#but also helped me sign up for a program that makes my birth control and things like paps free for a year

[sybbi]

As someone who had a recent pregnancy scare, I want to wholeheartedly tell the people who stand in front of Planned Parenthoods that they are NOT, in fact, helping women, and that they ARE, in fact, in dire need of a constructive hobby.

[flickeringart]

Thinking and Feeling -  What keeps you civilized?

In order to be able to live in a civilized manner, a person has to align with certain values and standards that enable behavior that doesn’t threaten, disturb or cause disruption in social interactions. The air signs in astrology represents the thinking function, the ability to formulate ideals and communicate with the environment. The air element is the function of deductive reasoning and it allows for a certain detachment from the emotional-physical reality. The thinking function allows us to interact with the world on an intangible level, through sublimating actual experience to conceptual reality. “Communication” is only possible when there’s separation present – where there’s a subject and an object present.

The air element is often referred to as the basis for “civilization”. It is uniquely human; it is what sets us apart from the animals. Without thinking, there are no ideas, no conceptual ideal to strive for. This is not to say that thinking on its own is productive – there needs to be a physical- emotional reality in order for thinking to have something to conceptualize of in the first place. As humans, we are only partly thinking creatures, and we can hardly be said be defined solely by our thoughts. Even though air dominant types might be more justified in basing their identity on their capacity to think and navigating conceptual reality, there is so much going on at a denser, subtler level, a feeling level that might or might not fit into pre-conceived conceptual framework, that might not be understood through concepts.

Thinking is undoubtedly powerful. In a “civilized” society the pen is mightier than the sword, if used skillfully. A lot can be done with a sharp intellect and a quick mind. However, thinking is not responsive, it is a conscious construction. Powerful emotion or overwhelming instinctual reactions are more organic and dynamic. People can hold values and ideals that are perfectly in line with civilized society, but it doesn’t mean that the instinct is ever “tamed” because it can’t be constructed. Thinking can’t hold emotion back and the thinking function can’t ever perfectly define or describe what is felt simply because emotion is subjective and not objective. No person can completely act and behave in accordance with ideas and ideals. Emotions prevent this from happening – they are immediate responses that are personal – not impersonal. This is why, on an intellectual level one can say, “it’s wrong to kill”, but it won’t prevent the person from affectively responding to a situation in a way that results in a killing. Reversely, on an intellectual level one can say, “I have to kill”, but it won’t prevent the emotions from moving in a different direction.

Does thinking really keep us civilized in a real sense then? It seems not; it only creates a façade of civilization, a light façade of connectivity and communion, a light façade of love that stems from detachment from actuality and idealization of potential. The intellectual ideal is impersonal, seemingly more pure than the ambiguous and powerfully primitive emotional response, but in a sense, also inhuman (superhuman?) and inorganic. The thinking function is indispensable, but it is shallow in its own way, less potent and less alive than emotion. Words only have true power in connection to emotion; on their own they are simply tools, empty and dead. Perhaps it is accurate to say that civilization cannot manifest without alignment of the soul and the mind. Thinking can’t control feeling and feeling can’t control thinking, inevitably one is operating separately from the other but they can align. Thinking and feeling are unable to reduce each other to nothing. Thinking doesn’t cancel out feeling and vice versa. Strong emotion might call for intellectual justification socially, yet, since thinking didn’t cause feeling in the first place (at least not consciously), one can only speculate as to what the emotion is or was in response to – why it was so intense and if it was reasonable and so on… In a sense, trying to conceptualize of emotion is like trying to conceptualize of life and it’s never productive because it won’t make the feeling nature be different than it is or prevent it from expressing itself.

Generally speaking, emotions don’t “fit in” socially and societally because they are strictly personal and untamed – often impossible to fit into a conceptual framework that everyone can understand and make sense of. There is no logic behind emotions because they are immediately experienced and are not part of some pre-conceived conceptual construct. In fact, many people find it insulting when others try to make sense of their reactions and responses, to make them fit into a neat intellectual-conceptual “box”. Emotions demands acceptance no matter what – they essentially reflects organic truth rather than conceptual truth. The feeling function is often devalued and deemed “less evolved”, but without it, we would lack deeper “personal truth”.

------

On a separate note, albeit connected to the text above,

Some claim that thought creates reality and emotional experience is a direct result of subconscious thought patterns and programming. I believe this is true in the sense that there’s a universal blueprint that is set up for us, however, I don’t think that thought creates reality in our own personal lives in the sense that we can separate ourselves from our personal blueprint (reflected by our birth chart) by “working on ourselves”. It is true that one can become more conscious of components and facets of the psyche, but it’s too presumptuous to believe that one could “change” the self for the better to fit a preferred mold. Some people seem to work well with the “law of attraction”, they are able to positively focus and manifest the personal reality they want. This ability is undoubtedly reflected in the birth chart of these people – optimism, a propensity to believe and receive effortlessly. Not everyone is set up that way, which is quite evident considering the struggles and hardships that people face, despite the effort to look on the bright side of life. Some charts are set up in order for the individual to experience pain and crises in order to discover something of value through the death and rebirth process. This is a valid path, although it might not seem blissful or peaceful in the least. For these types it is not realistic or rewarding to soar on the surface of life.

Take Esther Hicks for example, a famous channel, author and public speaker. She helps people to close the gap between their desires and the manifestation of them. She is channeling a “collective thought stream” (called Abraham) in her talks that is concerned with seeing humanity actualize its desires and dreams. Her chart, as shown below (from astrotheme.com) has a grand fire trine with Jupiter, Venus and Mars. This trine blesses her with a certain fundamental and natural faith in her own ability to receive what she wants from life. Her chart is not void of friction and trouble, but this grand trine has her back when the going gets tough. She would have a natural propensity for generosity and an “abundance mindset” as they call it.

The conjunction of Pluto-Saturn-Mars (all in retrograde which makes the energy experienced internally) in Leo points to a charged desire nature, a concentrated and powerful drive that is, for lack of a better word, ruthless and almost painful. As Mars is the fighter of the personality, this kind of configuration makes me think of an insatiable, prideful yet painfully contained fighter who can’t admit to any personal passions without feeling weakened, but at the same time can’t let go and has to have at all. It makes sense, that a person who helps people to get what they want through mental-emotional alignment would understand the pain and dissatisfaction caused by not being able to control life. The conjunction opposes Mercury, which is interesting since she writes and speaks for a living, or rather speaks for an autonomous “entity” of sorts. She lends her communicative ability to something other than herself. When she channels, she’s not in her Pluto-Saturn-Mars mode. Venus and Jupiter, the two benefics, and Uranus nicely support Mercury. She can convey ideas that are revolutionary and speak of happiness and abundance. It strikes me that when she speaks, she speaks to people with frustrated desires (Mercury opposite Pluto-Saturn-Mars) – it is as if she projects this cluster of energy and experiences it through her audience. I’m sure she avoids identifying with it and meets it through others that she encounters. The Pluto-Saturn-Mars conjunction is highly uncomfortable and the person would likely attempt to work around it in any way possible if the chart allows for it. In Esther’s case, she has a lot to lean on in order to avoid its harshness - the trine certainly helps and the Mercury opposition allows detachment. Nonetheless she meets it in her life because it’s part of her blueprint.

My point with all of this is to illustrate that certain “philosophies” and belief systems come easier to others because of the personal astrological setup and it being backed by experience in accordance with the planets. It always makes sense why a person thinks and feels a certain way from looking at the natal chart. Nobody’s wrong and nobody’s right, there’s only the chart and what it allows for and doesn’t allow for. I do believe that no one can act outside of his or her chart. All paths are ultimately valid from a universal perspective. Work with your own blueprint because that is the only way to live anyway.

[papermariosuggestion]

What are you hoping for from a new Paper Mario? What's your "golden ideal", I guess?

I could spend, like, years thinking of things I’d like to see in a Paper Mario game, but I’ll try to narrow it down. Here are some of the main things I’d really like to see:

☆ New partners (plural)

• Based on previously established Mario species, preferably “enemy” species, as “The circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”

• Unusual, but believable, and perhaps even poignant, backstories and fully realized character arcs. I want to care about these characters because I’m invested in this world, its inhabitants, and those inhabitants’ personal successes and failures, not just because their design is so kawaii and/or their dialogue is so funny, though those things are a plus.

• Distinct personalities and opportunities to show those personalities off (through design, body language, dialogue, etc).

☆ RPG mechanics

• Built on the solid foundation established in Paper Mario (N64)

• Turn-based combat

• A leveling system where you get to choose which stat to increase

• Badges (Including superficial badges like the L Emblem and Attack FX badges)

• Something new, like being able to use two partners to perform a Bros.-Attack-like move, or maybe even stats specifically pertaining to your partners.

☆ New locations

• It’s a delicate balance. Locations should both feel like they could realistically exist in Mario’s world and feel like something we’ve never seen before. TTYD has some great examples of this (Rogueport, Boggly Woods, Twilight Town, etc). Super Paper Mario has some creative locations as well, but because it takes place in another dimension, not in the typical world that Mario inhabits, none of them really feel particularly “Mario-esque” in nature. They’re all a bit off-brand, so to speak.

• On a technical level, graphics are improving all of the time, but that doesn’t automatically lead to more intriguing and/or more visually satisfying designs. At it’s core, Mario is a fantasy franchise, an escape from reality, and the Paper Mario series is one of the few series in the franchise that really builds out- or at least used to really build out- its world, and that world was interesting because it was new and mysterious, it practically begged to be explored. Paper Mario games should show me something I can’t see in reality; I know what paper and cardboard and lemons and steaks look like, show me underground cities and palaces, show me sprawling gardens with talking flowers, show me a floating tourist trap in the sky. The biggest limit is your imagination, so let it run wild, and show me that, show me that Alice in Wonderland-like controlled chaos.

☆ An interconnected world and motivated backtracking

• No stage-selection maps. Even if the game is fairly linear, I don’t need to have that shoved in my face. I don’t want to feel like I’m working my way down a to-do list, glued to a track, I want to journey through the world and explore somewhat freely.

• No fast travel by default (maybe you unlock fast travel after beating an optional challenge like the Pit of 100 Trials)

• No pipes that take you right from the hub world to the chapter area; I wanna walk…

…and I want it to be through a believable, expansive, intricate world that changes as I progress through the game, a world I could see hundreds of times and never get sick of because its details are constantly in flux, and because those details are the kind that make it feel realistic and lived-in. I don’t want to be teleported from A to B, or confined on a path from A to B to C, I want to explore, I want to discover, I want to experience this world and to form an attachment to it. This alone would make backtracking more worthwhile, but…

• …another way to make backtracking even more enjoyable would be to add events that make walking into a game in and of itself, like having to follow a creature up in the trees, or having to get through a cursed area in Mirror Mode, or having to dodge and weave through falling rocks because there’s a huge earthquake destroying- and altering the actual geometry of- the area. Walking doesn’t have to be a chore for you to complete in order to get on with the game, and it shouldn’t be, it should be part of the game, just as engaging as anything else you’re involved in.

☆ Non-linear elements

• The game should still be fairly linear overall, because Paper Mario games are chapter-based stories with beginnings, middles, and ends, but having some say  in which chapter comes next, or which partner you meet, or even just which puzzle you solve next would give the player a stronger sense of agency. Story-driven games are at high-risk of making the player feel like they’re just along for the ride, and this would help to counteract that.

☆ Spin dashing

• Gotta go fast! Getting rid of spin dashing always felt like an odd choice to me. Characters like the Yoshi kid, Carrie, and Dashell kind of replaced it, in the sense that they allow you to move quickly, but being able to speed up without switching partners, as well as being able to spin attack and just to witness the utter chaos of Mario flinging himself across the screen again, would make backtracking and walking around in general less of a slog. It would also give you more agency in the overworld and serve as a nice callback to the original game.

☆ Free-moving NPCs & situational dialogue

• In past games, NPCs have been confined to certain paths and locations. They might move from chapter to chapter, but they would always stay in the same general area until you triggered an event that placed them somewhere new. I’d like to see characters wandering around, going in and out of buildings, visiting other locations, having private conversations with one another, getting into fights, buying and selling items at the shop, putting on different clothes, and doing just about anything else they would typically do in-universe. Obviously this would be huge challenge to program, but we’re talking about an ideal here, and anything in this general direction would be an improvement in my eyes. We already see a bit of this in the series, but I’d like to see even more.

• When NPCs say things like “Where are your manners, Mario? You shouldn’t climb on the table” and “Don’t be so careless. There are too many enjoyable things in the world to gamble with your life!” it makes it feel like they actually see what you’re doing and care about what you’re doing. Having NPCs respond to you differently because of where you’re standing, or what partner you have out, or what badges you’re wearing, and so on, makes them into more than just set decoration or a sign to read, it makes them people, or at least more person-like. Nintendo’s been pretty good about this in recent years, probably because technical improvements have made it easier than ever before, and I think it would be fitting for a series known for its world-building.

☆ Dynamic lighting design & a day/night system

• This is all about aesthetics because, as it turns out, visuals are pretty important in a video game. Paper Mario (N64) had some really interesting lighting design, notably in darker areas like the secret passage in Peach’s castle, and we haven’t really seen a lot of that since, despite having more advanced technology that would allow for advanced lighting.

• I’d like to see things like swinging chandeliers that cast beams of light, and cracks in the ceiling that light pours through, and mirrors/reflections that Mario uses to solve puzzles, and shadows that hint at secrets. Lighting is a huge part of shaping a world, and using it in a variety of different and meaningful ways just makes your world seem that much more complex and grounded.

• As for the day/night system, I am picturing a game that visually changes based on the actual time of day, kind of like Animal Crossing games do, but not a game that requires it to be a certain time of day for any gameplay purposes, not for the main quest, not for side-quests, and not even for easter eggs. All I want is for it to be bright when I play in the morning, orange when I play at sunset, and starry when I play at night. This also would add to the game’s replayability, as different chapters would look and feel different depending on what time of day it was when you played through them.

☆ Easter eggs that reference other games in the franchise

• I want it to be clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Mario we see in Paper Mario games is the same Mario we see in other Mario games, not another person, and talking about the time he visited Isle Delfino or when Bowser fused with a sentient tennis racket would really drive that home.

• Make me really look for some, though. It’s cool to spot easter eggs in plain sight, but what’s really rewarding is having to dig for them. I don’t just wanna see Luigi standing in the background, I want to spot little inconsistencies and cracks in the walls and cryptograms spread throughout the world. Sure, the five-year-olds playing might not find them on their first playthrough, but when they’re fifteen and they remember that awesome Paper Mario game they played a decade ago, they won’t just be revisiting a world they’ve fully explored, they’ll be playing on a whole new level, figuratively speaking.

☆ amiibo Compatibility/functionality

• I’m not a big fan of DLC in general, as it’s often overpriced, but I do think amiibos are neat; using a real object to unlock something in a virtual world makes the virtual world feel just that much more alive to me, that much more like it’s a little world I can actually affect.

• The Paper Mario series never really got official merch, and while you do see a bit of your partners’ lives in the epilogue, it’s only a glimpse into their future, so getting little figurines of past partners that make them appear in the game, tell you about a recent adventure they had, and give you a unique badge based on their abilities/personalities/experiences, would be like a dream come true.

☆ Just be creative (I know it’s not that simple, but like, figure it out)

• Surprise me; throw in something inventive and revolutionary, like Wall Merging from A Link Between Worlds or The Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device from Portal.  There’s a whole universe of possibilities out there; please dream a little bigger than items disguised as a gameplay element and a hammer that fills in glaringly obvious gaps in paint. Nintendo’s always pushing the video game industry forward with their creative consoles. Use that, take whatever whacky control method they come up with next and integrate it like Super Paper Mario did- but hopefully even better than Super Paper Mario did- with the Wii remote.

• I see fans writing stories, and drawing characters, and making sprites, and working with all kinds of mediums to make art that knocks everything from recent “Paper Mario” games out of the park. Obviously Intelligent Systems can’t just steal those ideas, but I’d love to see them get on that wavelength and match that passion.

• Make a game that you’d never want to put down because you just can’t get enough of it, and don’t even bother with that “You’ve been playing for a while. You wanna take a break, grab a snack, chill out for a sec?” message; if I die playing your game because it’s truly that good, I see that as an absolute win. That’s legendary game design, my friend; aim to make a Paper Mario game so good it’s worth dying for, and if you fall short of that, hopefully you’ll still land on something pretty awesome.

[marvelmadam08]

Baby Blues 11/?

Summary: Ace goes to his first doctor’s visit, and Alex checks in with her doctor.

Warnings: First shots, crying, doctor visits, slight jealousy. Fluffy Dad!Chris content. Body insecurities, health concerns, and mentions of sex.

A/N: Rest in Power to Chadwick Boseman, our Black Panther and King. He gave us so much while battling cancer, not just Black Panther. The work he has done in the amount of time he had left a mark, and cannot be replicated. Chadwick Boseman has been such a force in Hollywood that no one could ever forget him. My heart goes out to all his close friends and family.

Also, let’s not make this about Black Panther 2.

~~~~~~

6 Weeks Old

“I mean they can program a robot to perform surgery on a grape but they still have to jab a n-e-e-d-l-e into my baby’s skin for vaccinations.” Alex glared at a few of the other moms in the waiting room, eyeing Chris up and down with Ace. 

Chris fed him while Alex filled out the medical file. He was noisy drinking from the bottle, but he took to bottle feeding easier than Alex expected. She watched from the corner of her eye, Chris was a natural, jumping right into action whenever Ace needed something. Seeing him walk around the house with Ace never got old. He was always singing songs to him, some made up. Alex’s favorite so far was the one called ‘Doggies Are Friendly’, in attempts to get Ace to warm up to Dodger. No luck.

Overall seeing Chris Evans with a baby was enough to get any woman excited, and willing to give him more. So she could understand the gazes he got from the other moms, but that didn’t mean she had to just sit there and let them undress her husband with their eyes.

“Al, he can’t understand you.” He watched Ace, unaware of the extra eyes lusting after him

“He’s intuitive Chris, he knows what I mean." Alex frowned, thinking about the how upset Ace would be once he got his shots. She always thought her mother was being overprotective when she was younger but now she understood it completely. She could hear him crying now, and the thought made her eyes sting.

Chris finally looked up, after hearing the infliction in Alex’s voice ”What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say that, we’re not gonna bottle up our feelings.” 

She half shrugged “I guess it’s a mental thing. I mean I know he has to get the shots- I just feel like I’m a monster, purposefully putting him through pain.”

“Baby, it’s a required check up, the first of many shots down the road. You aren’t a monster, you’re a mother.” 

“Evans?” the nurse called out from behind the counter

“Are you gonna be okay?” Chris asked as they stood, shifting Ace against his shoulder to burp him

“If you’re asking me if I’m gonna cry, I’m making no promises.” she quickly admitted

Alex hovered over the nurse while she weighed and measured Ace, and checked his heartbeat. Ace’s face when the cold stethoscope touched his chest was adorably deadpan. However, Chris was the one with all the questions, discussing development stages with the nurse the entire time. Going over Ace’s feeding and sleeping routine, asking if the amount of sleep was too little or too much. Would changing the baby wipes would cause any rashes. How soon would it be before hiding out if he was actually allergic to food or animals. And he jotted it all down in his phone, Alex stopped the nurse short when she offered to give Chris her number for any future questions.

“Al, I can hold him.” Chris offered once it was time for the vaccine shots

“No, it’s fine. I can handle it.” She kept Ace’s head turned away facing Chris. The nurse took a step closer, syringe in hand, Alex moved away slightly. “Sorry.”

The nurse tried again, Alex turned the other way.

“Mrs. Evans, I need you to stop moving him.”

“Al-”

“Okay, you hold him.” she conceded, before handing Ace over to Chris

She chewed her nail and watched from her new spot. Ace cried the second the nurse stuck him, Chris felt tears rising to his eyes. He went to wipe them away before anyone could see but more spilled over hearing the cries getting louder. Ace fidgeted against Chris, a heartbreaking attempt for him to move away from whatever stuck him.

“It’s okay baby.” Alex did her best to soothe him while the nurse prepped for another shot. She looked up at Chris, his cheeks wet but he kept his face straight, Alex wiped the tears away from her husband’s face before repeating “It’s okay baby.”

Seeing Ace’s lip poke out while the nurse moved in to stick him again nearly made Chris go into full defense mode, but he bit the inside of his cheek when the crying started again. Ace’s, not his.

“It’s okay honey, we’re all done with the shots.” the nurse soothed, covering the puncture points with small smiley face band-aids

“Yay, all done!” Alex clapped while Chris kissed the top of his son’s head to calm him “You okay?” Alex gave her husband some comforting back rubs

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He sniffled

"Good because now we have to go to my appointment."

***

After chewing down the nails on her left hand, Alex was half through her right one when she was called into her doctor’s exam room. Chris offered to go in with her, but she quickly declined, knowing she would have to be undressed for part, if not most, of the check-up. She done her own self-examination last night, seeing how different she looked down there. 

She didn’t want to be vain about it, but the first thing that popped in her head once she looked was how much she needed to get a wax. The second was equally as vain as it was humbling when she thought about having sex with Chris again. Her husband, AKA, Captain freaking America, who could eat to his hearts content and still come out looking as cut as the day she met him. Alex wanted to kick him and kiss him at the same time.

“Well Alex,” her doctor spoke, going over her notes “my main concern for you right now, is your blood pressure. It’s a little higher than usual, what’s your diet like at home?”

“More red meat than before, loads of pasta.” Alex paused to think “I tried string peas, y’know just for research purposes, surprisingly good.”

She chuckled “I tended to lean towards the squash when my first kid was born, but peas were a close second. What about stress?”

Alex shrugged “Fine, I guess. I mean, I can deal with it.”

“Alex, you can’t take this lightly. Stress can be just as harmful as smoking, for both you and your son. You are still breast feeding right?”

“Yes, and I started pumping.”

She jotted down some more notes “Mhmm, and how’s that going? No issues? Low milk supply? Pain while nursing?”

“Aside from the nipple chaffing, not really.” Alex picked at her nails, her doctor noticed

“Alex, I can’t help if you’re not one hundred percent honest with me. It’s bad enough we have doctors that downplay our symptoms because of a bullshit theory that Black people, specifically Black women, have higher pain tolerance. Don’t put on a brave face, not when it comes to your health.”

“Well when you put it like that- I hate pumping, I hate feeding sometimes too. It’s like a bunch of pins and needles sticking me when I do it, just sucking the life out of me. I don’t recognize my body anymore, and I’m warning you now, it’s not pretty down there. As for the stress, my husband and I have been fighting over what’s best for Ace, and our marriage. Which makes me concerned for when I go back to working. My Dad damn near broke his back, my son won’t sleep for longer than an hour, and I think he hates our family dog.” Alex exhaled a sharp breath 

“You feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“If you don’t like the feel you have when pumping when why do it?”

“Chris wants to be included in feed Alexander, my son, which I get. He’s gonna be back and forth between working and home again, so he wants his chance to bond with him.”

“But breast feeding is also uncomfortable to you?”

“Only when he fights trying to latch, but once he does and he’s calm, it’s worth it.”

“Have you ever considered formula? Lots of new moms do it, even rotated between that and breast milk. It’s actually proven to help both the mom and the baby.”

“We’ve talked about it, I voted against it.”

“I’m not saying you should, ultimately it’s your choice, but I will recommend, giving it a shot considering the stress you might be going through.” she scribbled down a few more notes “Now physically, how do you feel?”

“In my vagina?”

“There too. Please scoot forward and lay back for me.”

Alex followed orders and put her legs in the stirrups “Mostly tired, out of everything I’m exhausted. I’ve been walking to try and slim down a bit, but the weight isn’t going anywhere.”

“That’s to be expected, a lot of new moms hope for the baby weight to drop right off.” Alex’s doctor explained while pulling on her gloves “However, a lot of it is your uterus trying to shrink back to it’s regular size after being stretched out for nine months. Perfectly normal to like your body isn’t the same anymore, because it’s not. It gets easier the more kids you have.”

Alex chuckled “I don’t plan on having another one for a while.”

“Are you taking birth control?”

“No, Ace’s spit up on my clothes is all the birth control I need right now.” Alex shifted slightly “Plus I don’t really get in the mood too often now a days. Not sure if it’s emotional or mental but I’m just not ready to bring intimacy back in just yet.”

“Well physically, you’re good to go. Stitches are all healed, no signs of infection or tears. I will recommend going easy though, as well as a birth control, in case your mood changes.”

“Thanks, what do you recommend for my marriage?” Alex asked jokingly

“I have an acquaintance who’s a marriage counselor. I can give you her contact information if you like.”

“Um- I think I’ll pass this time Doc.”

“Okay then, I’ll let you get dressed and just talk to Toni at the desk before you leave to set up your next appointment.”

Chris stood once he saw Alex reenter the waiting room, Ace was fast asleep in the carrier.

“What did your doctor say? How are you doing?”

Alex did her best not to hesitate “A little concerned about my diet, said my blood pressure was a bit high, but overall-”

“Are you okay?”

“Chris, let me finish.” she gave him a reassuring smile “I gotta fix my diet, limit my stress and my blood pressure will be fine.”

“What did she say about- other things?” he hinted, a light blush creeping to his cheeks

“Well- my insatiable husband- I should wait a little longer. Nothing is wrong it’s just what she recommends.”

Chris nodded “Okay, not a problem.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders “We’ll wait, doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

[adhbabey]

hi. im really sorry for bothering you. this is also a long ask so im really sorry. and im sorry if im ranting. i feel like i need to explain and give the entire story and everything. it ends up leaning to overexplaining. and im already doing it. ok. so sorry. so, for the last few months (six or seven) ive been questioning if i have adhd. i show many symptoms such as sensory overload, hyperfocus, emotional dysregulation, rsd, delayed sleep phase syndrome, inattention (1/6)

hyperfixation and emotional hyperarousal, some problems with memory and object permanence, a selective memory like i memorized an entire 369 page book but i forgot where my phone was when i put it out of my direct line of sight, 

i stim (drawing, moving, humming, etc) and i need stimulation or i die, I’m bad with remembering to shower/eat/brush my teeth and i will forget to change my outfit for days on end, 

I have trouble controlling my volume and all of this: ( Do you feel like you’ve ruined everything when someone tells you that you did something wrong? Do you think you’ve offended people when you haven't? Do you have a hard time judging reality correctly (like you think you’ve offended or hurt someone and you feel awful but it didn’t bother them that much)? ) But I still don't show the "normal" signs of ADHD. 

I’m not loud or disruptive in class. i get excellent grades. i took the act in 7th grade and got a 23 (good for a seventh grader).

i don’t struggle with getting things done, if they have a deadline. no deadline, never even going to start. but i’m known in school as the smart kid, with perfect grades and in the gifted program. when I’m at home i get all my homework done immediately. everything is turned in one time or before the deadline. 

I don’t have time blindness unless I’m hyperfocusing. otherwise I’m way too acutely aware of time. i can guess what time normally within two minutes without looking at a clock. 

I’m constantly stressed about making it to places on time and am never late. and ADHD is a disability, but I’m doing fine, it hasn't affected me really at all, so i don’t feel like I’m valid enough to talk to people about getting a diagnoses or even talk to people that i might have it. i don’t even think they'd believe me. they'd just brush it off that i was lying, i was trying to justify why i forget what I’ve just been told or why i disrespect the teachers by drawing instead of looking them in the eye.

I just don’t know what to do, and so I’m asking you, do you have any advice? should i talk to someone? 

It’s not affecting me really. I’m not struggling. i have friends, social skills and i do great in school, i turn things in on time and all that. i don’t have major issues that a lot of ADHD people face. You have to have at least six symptoms interfere with your school, home, social life before you’re 12. I’m 14. but i show so many now i don’t know what to do. sorry for the rant. any advice?

I’m so sorry I didn’t answer this sooner, by the way, I’ve not been able to get on my computer in the past couple of days, so I deeply apologize. But for first looks, by the fact that you made a wall of text, in which I edited down for an easier time reading, you absolutely have ADHD. 

I’m going to say this, one thing, it absolutely affects you. Just because you aren’t having bad days, doesn’t mean you never will. And it’s likely that you’re not struggling so much, because you are currently in a structured environment. I was in a similar position when I was still in public school. I didn’t realize that I had ADHD until I was 20 and entered an unstructured environment for college. It was then I began to struggle so much that I wasn’t able to clean my dorm room and had an ant infestation. 

And you don’t need to be disruptive to have hyperactivity symptoms, especially if you are assigned female at birth, afab people are taught to mask things, and tend to end up being called drama queens, chatty and daydreamers. So if you feel the need to brush off your symptoms, its because we are unfortunately taught that. 

With executive dysfunction, its literally about having a hard time starting tasks, thats what they mean. Also many neurodivergent people can relate to the “gifted kid syndrome”, you are not alone in that. 

For time blindness, being stressed about the time or hyperaware can be a sign of overcompensating for the fact that you may not have an internal clock. Time blindness is when you are doing something and next time you check its 2 hours later but it felt like 15 minutes. If you have anxiety about the time its a sign you experience time blindness. 

Also its a neurodivergent thing to hate eye contact, and with us who have ADHD, it helps to focus on something visually to listen to them. Stimulating certain senses can be important for not getting distracted, because its a controlled thing to keep you occupied, so your other senses can be used better. 

You should talk to your school counsellor and parents if you can, tell them that you relate to specific symptoms on this list. Say you think you deal with executive dysfunction and all this stuff. Because while you may not struggle as much right now, you may struggle worse later and its important to start managing it now for the future. 

I hope this helps. Sorry for taking so long!!!

[lonely-business]

So, I had a bit of an odd chronic illness that disrupted my life to extreme levels, but since it was related to my hormones, specifically my ovaries, almost no one took it seriously. Like, I started menstruating at 11 years old and it was all down hill from there.

My periods were always completely unpredictable, extremely painful, and messed with my mental health to the point were I was diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. I tried 11 different birth controls to help with my various symptoms, all of them fucked up my brain, causing extreme anxiety and depression symptoms, which I was already dealing with because my body was basically allergic to my estrogen.

I was able to make it through college before my my mental symptoms became too much for me to handle on my own. I had to move back home. I was able to do an online master’s program, but at the same time was helping my mom who was bed ridden for almost a year. My dad is also emotionally abusive and likes to make shitty comments about all my faults.

The symptoms from my illness became even worse. I eventually gave up on my dreams of being a counselor for LGBT youth. My illness made me too unreliable. I never knew what my mind would be like from day to day, much less hour to hour.

Throughout this processes I had been advocating for a hysterectomy since I was 14. I knew my hormones were the major source of my problems and if they were removed then my doctors and I could regulate it and know exactly the amount of hormones my body was getting. Totally reasonable. My GP was on board, but I needed an OBGYN and insurance to sign off on it.

I finally got my hysterectomy August 5th at the age of 33 after developing a 16cm (6in) cyst on my right ovary. Two months later I actually began to think about my future again. Something I gave up on 10 years ago. I had a mind again. When I mentioned my tentative plans to my parents, my dad said that I was still “too crazy” to think about going back to school.

[yikesharringrove]

Hello, I hope I’m submitting prompts correctly. It’s my first one :) I was reading your older works and just finished the “PTA Steve/Billy” ones and would love to see them in the mango AU. I just love all your AUs

Masterlist

Part 35

-

This is a little different, than PTA dads, but I was trying to find a way of working this into the story lmao

These are the letters I mention in the story, I had them in my bedroom all growing up and I LOVED them

-

“We just wanted to hold this meeting with you to discuss Mina’s progress.”

Billy and Steve had been called in to meet with Mina’s preschool teacher about something extremely important.

Billy had come straight from work, but Steve was running late, as he tended to do. He was sitting in a chair across from Mrs. Anna, Mina’s teacher.

“We’ve noticed some trends in her behavior and we just wanted to get them sorted out.” Billy couldn’t fucking believe this. He thought about the meetings his parents were called into, meetings for his aggressive actions, acting out in class. If Mina had gotten his rotten streak, he would never forgive himself.

Steve came scrambling in the door. He was wearing his big glasses, had a spit up on his shirt from Zara who was screeching in her carseat. He sat down next to Billy, pulling Zara out to place her on his shoulder, patting her back until she quieted down.

“I am so sorry for that, I was ready to leave, and well, it wasn’t pretty, and I missed my bus.” Billy just smiled at him, squeezing his knee. Anna stared at his hand.

“My apologies, are you the nanny?” Steve’s face crumpled.

“No, I’m Mina’s father.” She looked fucking shocked, turning to Billy.

“Then I’m sorry, who are you.”

“Mina’s father.” Billy was shifting his jaw. She looked confused before it finally dawned on her.

“Oh, okay. Well, um, okay. Let’s begin.” Her cheeks were red. “As I was saying to Mr. Hargrove, we’ve noticed some trends in Mina’s behavior.” Steve sat up a little straighter. Zara gurgled.

“What, what kind of trends?” Anna was rummaging for a file.

“She’s behind where she should be in terms of the alphabet and basic reading.” Steve’s face went dower. This was the exact meeting he’d been forced to sit through with his parents almost every year. He was determined to say the exact opposite of everything they did.

“She’s doing her best.” Billy squeezed his knee a little firmer.

“Do you read with her every day? Have an alphabet where she can see it?”

“Yes, we’ve been working on her spelling for a long time now, we read every day, and she has wooden letters around her bedroom.” Steve had found these cute little wooden clown people forming different letters, had hung them up near the ceiling all the way around her room.

“Well unfortunately, her best is not where she should be.” Steve was getting heated.

“She is trying. I mean, she’s three years old!” Billy chimed in.

“We’re not saying she’s not trying, but-”

“She works hard, we’re not going to make her miserable slaving over her readings.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Mr. Hargrove if you please.” Steve didn’t even realize he was standing.

Whenever his father was in one of these meetings, one about how behind Steve was, he would simply promise to make Steve work harder, would breathe down his neck and make him feel like shit. He worked hard, school was just difficult for him.

“Mina struggles with certain words. She gets confused with rhyming and often makes mistakes while speaking.

“Okay, but like, she’s three.” Billy shrugged.

“These are all early signs of dyslexia. We are going to watch her closely, and recommend you do the same at home. As she continues learning to read, if more signs present themselves, you should discuss with her doctor what the best course of action may be.” Billy relaxed in his chair.

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Steve is dyslexic.” Steve had only just found out himself. Mina hated when he read to her, would only have Billy do it. He stumbled through simple books and while he was studying to get his GED, he had opened up to Billy about how hard school was for him, and Billy had encouraged him to have some testing done.

Anna furrowed her brows.

“But are you, genetically related?” Steve just gave her a blank look.

“I mean, if growing her in my uterus from one of my eggs and giving birth to her makes us genetically related, then yes.” Her eyes went huge.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize you’re an omega.” Billy rolled his eyes. “I’ve never met a male one before.”

“Can we please stop talking about my husband’s presentation and discuss our daughter?” Anna looked flustered. She cleared her thought, trying to get herself together.

“Well, it is hereditary, so I supposed you may have passed it to her. That’s all I have to say. If she begins showing more signs, early intervention can help her to be wonderfully successful in school and work despite any dyslexia.” Billy stood up, smiling tightly at her.

“Thank you for your time, we’ll make sure to watch for more signs.

Steve was quiet as they picked up Mina from the extend day program, loading both girls into Billy’s car. His hand was clammy in Billy’s on the way home.

“Okay, Pretty Boy. Spill it.” Billy was standing next to Steve in the kitchen, making dinner together.

“I just feel like shit. You know how hard school is for me. I can’t believe Mango has to deal with all that crap now, too.” Billy knocked their shoulders together.

“You heard what that nosy teacher said; early intervention can help. You literally didn’t find out until you were twenty-one because your shitty parents refused to help you. Remember when you were first pregnant, and we promised we would do the opposite of what our parents did? Helping her is doing the opposite.” Steve nodded, but still looked glum.

“I was also thinking about, that teacher was so weird about us being together, and, and about my presentation, and I’m so scared that the girls could get shit for us, for, for me.” Billy put down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes, took Steve’s shoulders to make him face him.

“Baby, I know it sucks, but we can’t control that. We can defend ourselves, and defend our pups, but shitty people are always gonna be shitty, and we just have to hope we’ve raised some badass chicks who won’t take any shit.” Steve laughed.

“I already know Zara’s gonna be ready, willing, and able to fight at any given time.”

“She’s gonna be such a tough little bitch. I can’t wait.”

[mariaorsic]

The Importance, Role, And Power Of Our Subconscious Minds

We are all victims of some kind of bad programming. Some people were programmed to think they have God-given right to exploit, persecute, and dominate other people. Some were programmed to think they were born to be financially poor and serve “wealth”, by laboring from their young age to their caskets, and some were programmed to think they have genetic predispositions to be obese. In any case, we are all being powered by programs that are controlling our minds, which means informations and thoughts we adopt have absolute control over all areas of our lives (and bodies), from social life to financial incomes.

Since only one percent of the global population controls 97% of the money, it is not hard to realize most of us have grown up in poverty. Not just financial poverty, but all kinds of poverty that we can and usually are led to from the point of being or becoming financially poor.

Many marriages fell apart as a result of financial poverty. Many children stopped daring to dream or chase their dreams. In fact, since children have highly suggestible subconscious minds active for most of the time, they are easily influenced by their impoverished, overly-cautious, bitter, discouraged, fearful parents. The aftermath?

Those children grow up into younger mental & characteristic replicas of their parents, which means that all kinds of poverty are inheritable.

Yet, 1% which controls pretty much everything we can imagine, from radio, music, and movie industry to pharma and military industry is giving their best to extinguish even our last will to “fight” for the creation of better, and healthier living standards. We are being bombarded with destructive information, thoughts, pictures, sounds (frequencies) all the time.

However, a partial cause of your poverty may be found in you. After all, you can change yourself. Start a journey into prosperity by reprogramming your (subconscious) mind. From now-on, FORGET opinions and thoughts about money and fortune which you inherited or adopted.

FIRST of all, money is NOT evil. It surely can be used for evil deeds, but it can also be used for noble deeds. Therefore, materials are neutral. The reason you must stop seeing money as evil is the change (improvement) of vibration (frequency, energy) your mind is operating at for most of the time, because everything, and everyone works, lives, and exists on a certain frequency. Poverty and fortune are not exceptions.

The frequency of a cold cocoa-milk mix is much higher than of the hot cocoa-milk mix. White and black ceramic cups of the same size and shape have different frequencies. Don’t believe me? Fine, make a test! Take two identical ceramic cups, one white, and one black. Fill them with the exact amount of water, and take a small teaspoon. Make a sound test! The difference will shock you. By the way, never ever use dark-colored dishes, clothes, etc.

Anyway, back to the point about the money. Once you realize that money is not evil nor is poverty noble, you will automatically start attracting greater opportunities into your life, because the frequency your mind operates at will skyrocket. Like attracts like. You will suddenly start finding yourself being in a harmony with (frequencies of) greater incomes.

SECOND, replace negative thoughts, opinions, and pictures with positive ones. Remember, subconscious minds accept all orders and opinions as “right”/”correct”, and “truthful”. Yes, you can remain focused on poverty that can be found in everyone and everything, and you can keep thinking about it forever, but that will not do you any good.

By embracing the same old thoughts you will find yourself repeating the same old actions (that are being called “habits”), and you will find yourself “manifesting” the same old results.

Therefore, build a new habit of being focused on building a positive, courageous, determined, and focused mindset, that will deliver you into a new spiritual realm/level, on which your character will be unrecognizable.

I suggest you avoid “negative” people because no matter how positive you are, after seven minutes of being in their presence, your mind will enter a harmonious state with their minds.

So, if you are an optimist who deals with a single pessimist at the time, your energy will decrease, his/her will increase.

If you are an alone optimist in a group of pessimists, you will become a pessimist, at least for a while, because their mental energy is dominant over yours.

If you are an optimist who is surrounded by negative family members, try to avoid them. Spend more time in nature (trees can lift our spirits up), or exercising. Build an iron mindset by constant repetition of positive affirmations, and try to concrete the following idea to your mind: “Other people cannot affect me. I am the captain of my mind.”. That idea really helped me, because, for a long period of years, I was able to be positive only when alone. Whenever a negative, drama-stricken mind would enter my presence, I would lose the ground and begin to sink into the old, negative, and destructive mindset. I highly suggest the teachings of Dr. Joseph Murphy who claimed it is insanity to let other people affect your mind.

THIRD: you must realize, you are not your mind. Stop searching for answers and solutions in your mind or the outer world. If your mind knew any better, rest assured it would not create any problems in the first place. Your mind is the creator of all “problems” in your life. In fact, there are no “problems”, just “things” your mind calls problems. Once you quit letting your mind have control over you, you will take the wheel.

Human beings live on three different plains of existence simultaneously:

A) Physical — Outer

B) Mental — Central/Middle

C) Spiritual — Inner

Instead of being subdued (dominated) by your mind, start paying attention to the inner voice. It is the voice of your soul. With a little practice, it could become immensely powerful. In fact, if you want to know yourself, you must start listening to your inner voice, instead of your mind (or the body). You are a spiritual being in a physical body.

Do not let the outer world control your inner world. Instead, create your outer world by following the orders of your Spirit (inner voice).

Therefore, each and every time your mind tries to stop you, discourage you, intimidate you, go back to affirmations and start reading them. The reprogramming process may last for a day, a year, or a decade. Do not hurry nor force the change to occur. After all, you’ve been programmed since your birth!

FOURTH: of immense importance is to stop listening to music/songs with negative lyrics that contain I-finite negative affirmations. For example, the song “Bitter Sweet Symphony”, by the band: “The Verve”.

“No change, I can’t change, I can’t change, I can’t change, but I’m here in my mold, I am here in my mold. But I’m a million different people from one day to the next. I can’t change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

You see, “the enemy” is sneaky and wise. Rest assured, he will not be direct and tell you to start repeating that you are poor, or brokenhearted. Instead, he will embed such destructive affirmations into a catchy and what seemed-to-be “positive” song.

When you begin to sing it, you are actually programming your subconscious mind, and therefore, creating/manifesting a negative reality. To think and speak negative, yet expect something positive to happen is insane. It is equal to jumping off a building and expecting to go up. The law never changes.

Therefore, start paying close attention to the lyrics of songs you like to listen to. Stop reading news, start avoiding pessimists, and ignore movies/videos that contain gore/explicit scenes, language, etc.

FIFTH: tune your music (preferably happy instrumentals) to 432 Hz.

Shortly; standard worldwide tuning 440 Hz, which is unnatural, and destructive. 432 Hz is natural. I strongly suggest listening to 432 Hz piano overnight (while sleeping). If you encounter bad dreams while listening to such melodies, start celebrating, because that is the first sign of mental cleanup. Your old, hidden, and consciously forgotten traumas are reaching the surface and dissolving.

[buildingcages]

Box Boy Enrollment, part 2

whew, this got long! part one is here. 

masterpost

(Warnings: dehumanization, objectification, financial coercion, forced nudity (mostly nonsexual), slavery, humans as pets, victim blaming, psychological manipulation, corporal punishment)

The lady behind the desk was plump, comfortably middle aged with little gold glasses on a chain around her neck. She smiled brilliantly at him as he came in, gesturing to the chair across from hers. 

"Come on in sweetie, you're here to sign up aren't you?"

"Oh uh. Yeah. Is it that obvious?" He dropped into the chair, feeling embarrassed and transparent. God, but he must look pathetic. "I'm here about the uh, the debt forgiveness program?"

She chuckled. The name plate on her desk read 'Miss Delilah'. "In my line of work you learn to read people, is all. It looks like you've got some paperwork for me hon?"

Nodding, he slid the folder across the desk. The very sympathetic bank manager had given it to him when he suggested he come here. She picked it up and thumbed through the contents with pursed lips. He slid his hands under his thighs to keep himself from fidgeting. 'It's not going to work. She's going to tell you it's too much and you're not worth that much and they can't help you, and you will have humiliated yourself for nothing-'

She snapped the folder shut and smiled at him again. "You're doing the right thing sweetie. I'll just get some forms for you and we'll get you all set up." 

He slumped with relief and she chuckled again, reaching across the desk to ruffle his hair. 

"Aw were you worried? You're a good boy aren't you? You're gonna do just fine." She set a small stack of forms in front of him and then tapped something on her computer screen. "You just fill those out and I'll let the intake boys know to get a space ready for you ok?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. This was the last moment where he could turn back. He picked up the pen. Name, date of birth, medical history, fingerprints. The questionnaire about his sexual history, identity, and attraction gave him pause, but he decided not to think about it and filled it out as fast as he could. He hesitated for a long moment before signing, then pushed the paper back across the desk. His mouth was as dry as the desert he'd driven through on a road trip once. It was done.

The recruitment lady- no, Miss Delilah- looked up from her computer and smiled at him again. She pulled something out of her desk drawer and came around behind him before he could catch a good look at whatever it was. When he tried to twist and look at her she put a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. 

"Easy now sweetie, I'm just putting your collar on you. You understand you're going to have to wear this from now on, right?"

Oh. 

"Oh. Of course. Um. Can I ask. What’s next?" The collar was stiff, high enough that it kept pinching him when he slouched.

"Well just this once, since you've been so good for me. Next, someone will come from intake to bring you up to your temporary quarters, then after a little while you'll be taken to the training facility. Once you're there, they'll start teaching you how to be a good little pet. Won't that be nice?" 

He kind of doubted it would be. 'It's worth it, whatever happens, if this saves everyone else then it's worth it. Be good and maybe they'll go easy on you. Then when they sell you as a companion to some little old rich lady you can run away if she's mean.' He took a deep shaky breath. 

"Ok. Thank you for telling me."

"You can call me Miss, dear. It's important for you to learn how to show respect for your betters, isn't it hon?"

Meek, he reminded himself, you are going to be meek. He made his voice as small as he could.

"Yes, Miss."

While he sat there trying to steady himself, Miss Delilah was bustling around pulling a stack of 3 nested plastic bins out of another drawer. She set them on the desk and smiled again.

"Ok sweetheart go ahead and strip. Clothes in this bin, shoes and belt in this one, personal effects in here." 

He looked around the little office, at the glass door with all the people typing away in their cubicles behind it, at the lack of any clothing visible to replace what he was wearing. 

"Don't pets get clothes, um. Miss?" The question came out a little choked, and he knew he must be as red as a boiled lobster.

"You're not a pet yet honey, you're a trainee. You've got to earn the ability to call yourself a pet, and you do that by being good and doing what you're told. Come on hon, you've been so good, don't make me punish you already!"  

He took another deep breath, the way he’d been taught when he was overwhelmed as a kid. 'Just start with your shoes. You can do this. One thing at a time.' 

He slipped off his worn but comfy boots, and put them in the tray. Then belt and socks. His heavy rings, the leather bands he wore around his wrist. His hands shook so badly taking off his shirt that a button came free and pinged off into the corner somewhere. Miss Delilah made a disapproving "tsk" sound but didn't say anything. Finally he stood there in a collar and boxers. Maybe it would be enough. Miss Delilah raised her eyebrows at him and he knew it wouldn't be. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid them down his hips, setting them in the plastic tub. 

When his shoulders tried to rise defensively the collar bit into him. Miserably, he wrapped his arms around his middle. 

"See? that wasn't so bad was it honey? You just keep doing what you're told like a good boy and you'll be just fine. Now come sit by me--NOT on the chair, good heavens, you can kneel right here, and I'll give you a little something to calm your nerves. I've got a couple other things to set you up with and then you'll be all ready for intake and training." 

He knelt. He felt detached and cold, and like some distant part of him might be screaming, but he fought the prickle of tears behind his eyes and accepted the pill and the little paper cup of water. When he looked up again, Miss Delilah was holding something that looked a lot like those piercing guns you saw at the mall. Something on her computer beeped, and she took a little chip out of its slot and plugged it into the thing in her hand. Then she grabbed his ear, hard, and he flinched back on instinct and fell right over on his back.

"Oh, honey, and you were doing so good too."

 Her voice was sad, and she was reaching for something on her desk. The next thing he knew, the world whited out with pain. He heard a scream he belatedly recognized as his own, tapering off into pained gasps. A shock collar, of course, he should have known he was so stupid-

"Now are you gonna be good for me? Or are you gonna make me do that again?" 

"No, please, I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to coax his limbs to cooperate, "I'll be good Miss I promise." 

"Good boy. Up on your knees now, and hold still." 

He pushed himself up with arms that felt like overcooked noodles. It was a piercing gun after all, and when he raised a hand furtively to touch his ear he found a flat plastic tag like they used to mark livestock. It hurt, but not as much as the shock collar. He thought maybe the little pill she gave him was starting to work, because he felt kind of soft and floaty.

"There, see how much nicer it is when you do what you're told?" She patted his cheek kindly, "Now remember, the money to pay your debts is coming directly from your sale. If you're really good and we don't have to keep paying for extra training we can pay that debt off free and clear, ok? Just keep reminding yourself that this was your choice. Everything that happens to you now is something you signed up for of your own free will."

It was true, and he thought maybe it would make it easier to deal with, if he reminded himself that he’d had some kind of control. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this would be humiliating. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the tears sticking in his eyelashes. 

Behind him, he heard the door open. Miss Delilah smiled down at him again, and clipped a lead to one of the rings on his collar. 

"Here's intake now, you're going to be a good boy for them and do everything they say, aren't you?"

He nodded miserably. When he looked over his shoulder he saw two men in white with long batons hanging off their belts. He suspected he didn't want to know what those were for, and he also suspected it wasn't going to matter. Delilah handed one of them the end of his leash. 

"Up, trainee." His voice was sharp, and there was no warmth in it. He got up. It was dawning on him that he was about to be paraded naked in front of a whole office full of people, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Sure enough, the man holding his leash turned and walked back out the open door without so much as a backward glance. He stumbled and walked quickly to keep up, sure that any delay would be punished. As they passed the cubicles he could see that most of the office workers were ignoring him completely, but one had been watching through the glass door intently. He was smiling slyly, one hand rubbing his trousers under the desk. 

"Eyes forward trainee," the intake man behind him punctuated this by tapping his baton against his captive's turned cheek. It buzzed against his skin, clearly a warning. He snapped his eyes forward and concentrated on walking, trying to ignore the flush he could feel creeping across his chest. 

~*~

Please let me know if I’ve forgotten any warnings! A big thanks to all the folks involved in building this lovely whumptastic sandbox <3

[theastrophilearchitect]

WandaVision series review part 2.

Last week, I posted part 1 of my WandaVision series review, containing my initial thoughts and breakdown of episodes 1-3 (part 1 can be found here). This post, part 2, will contain my breakdown of episodes 4-6, and part 3, to come next week, will contain episodes 7-9 and my final thoughts. 

So, let’s go.

Episode Four: ‘We Interrupt This Program’ This is the episode where everything comes together; where things start to make sense. This episode debuted on January 29th, finally giving us some answers after the first and second episodes were released on the 15th. It has a runtime of 34 minutes, which is fairly on par with the episodes up to here, though this episode doesn’t follow the sitcom format, but feels more like your classic MCU content.

The episode opens with a previously on WandaVision recap, which seems to very much focus on Geraldine, the meaning of which soon becomes clear. And we enter a black screen which slowly fades into the form of Geraldine, with voices from the movie Captain Marvel--the voices of Carol Danvers, Maria Rambeau and Maria’s daughter, Monica, which just confirms fan speculation that Geraldine is, in fact, a grown-up Monica Rambeau, and we must currently be seeing her after the Blip--after Bruce Banner’s snap in Avengers: Endgame returned all those Thanos killed at the end of Avengers: Infinity War.

Monica sits in a hospital room, but the bed beside her is empty, then she leaves the room to panic as people coalesce throughout the hospital. She asks about a patient in room 104, then one of the doctors recognises her, and tells her her mother--Maria Rambeau--who presumably was who she was in the hospital for, is dead, and about the Blip, because it seems to Monica it’s only been a few minutes. And we have the Marvel logo, after an introduction instead of right at the beginning as in the sitcom episodes.

Cut to the headquarters of SWORD, standing for Sentient Weapon Observation and Response Division, which is quite clearly just talking about Vision. Honestly, though, Marvel’s obsession with making their acronyms real words--I’m talking to you, SHIELD and HYDRA--is mildly irritating because of how unrealistic it is. Just a me-gripe.

Monica fails to access the building, her badge apparently outdated, and we’re introduced to Tyler Hayward, acting director of SWORD in Monica’s absence. Hayward brings her into the building and declares Monica grounded, able to only carry out terrestrial missions, on her mother’s order for if the personnel who disappeared in the Blip were to return. He then assigns her to an ‘FBI thing’. Cue the wonderful Jimmy Woo.

Monica is welcomed near the sign for Westview by Jimmy Woo, the FBI agent who dealt with Scott Lang’s house arrest in Ant-Man and the Wasp. Jimmy tells Monica a witness he had in Westview has gone off the radar; that everyone seems to have forgotten the man’s existence. And they approach two policemen stood by the sign, who claim Westview doesn’t exist. Ah, Wanda’s lovely magic. Jimmy also says he can’t contact anyone on the inside.

‘This isn’t a missing person’s case, Captain Rambeau, it’s a missing town. Population 3,892.’

And Jimmy claims the town itself won’t let him in to investigate, but though the town seems empty, it is visible, and there doesn’t appear to be any physical barrier. Monica sends in a helicopter-style drone, and the camera feed glitches like a television screen as it nears the town, then the drone disappears--the toy helicopter Wanda found in episode 2. Monica approaches the town, and a television-barrier becomes apparent. Monica touches it, and is pulled inside, hence becoming Geraldine within Westview in episodes 2 and 3.

Cut to a day later, the glorious Darcy Lewis from the first two Thor movies, Jane Foster’s (Thor’s love interest’s) intern, now graduated and with a PhD in astrophysics, sits in a van with several other scientists of different fields. Outside Westview, SWORD has set up a kind of military base. Darcy takes some readings and gets ‘a colossal amount of CMBR’ (Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation, which is one of the things used to prove the Big Bang Theory), and notices ‘longer wavelengths superimposed over the noise’, and has the idea to set up and link a vintage television to it.

Cut to night, we watch a man in some kind of protective suit crawl through sewers into Westview, the border of which transforms him into the beekeeper from the end of episode 2 which prompted Wanda to rewind and skip to the 1970s.

Darcy’s TV picks up the signal, and plays the previous episodes of WandaVision in their sitcom format, pointing out Vision is meant to be very, very, very dead. We see that the hands the camera zoomed out to reveal watching the show at the end of episode 1 belong to Darcy.

At this point, SWORD starts putting together a wall and whiteboard of their information, and it’s really fun to see them asking all the same questions we as an audience are. Why hexagonal shape? I take it this means the border is hexagonal, not that we’d know that as an audience. Why sitcoms? I know the answer, but only because I watched episode 8 already. Same time and space? and, of course, Is Vision alive?

It’s really fun knowing the answers.

Jimmy and Darcy watch Monica as Geraldine, and question whether she’s playing along or if she’s oblivious. With some science-y Darcy stuff, we also see that the voice in the radio in episode 2 was Jimmy, but we see the episode glitched itself out of that situation, like what SWORD is calling the ‘Westview anomaly’ is righting itself when they interfere.

As they watch Wanda give birth, they expect the anomaly to break, as all the other people are real people brainwashed, but then the babies are born, indicating Wanda has some kind of creational power (foreshadowing). Geraldine mentions Ultron, and as Wanda tells her to leave, the episode again glitches to the credits, not quite as we saw in the actual episode.

It then cuts back to that scene in episode 3, but not through the old TV as Jimmy and Darcy are watching. I didn’t notice whether or not it did this in episode 3, but the aspect ratio has increased, more to that typical of a modern show, in contrast to the smaller ones of the early sitcoms. And we watch Wanda threaten Geraldine with her magic, glowing red as it should--the event episode 3 emitted, instead giving us Vision’s perspective. Wanda tells Geraldine to leave, and blasts her through the walls of the house, and straight out of Westview, hence the end clip of episode 3. Wanda repairs the wall just before Vision returns home.

Something curious though--we know when SWORD sends things, including people, into it, they transform to fit the style, like the drone becoming a helicopter, the man becoming a beekeeper and Monica’s style changing to fit the decade, but when Monica comes out of Westview, she still looks like she did in the 70s episode.

Cut back to Wanda inside Westview, and she sees Vision walking, but apparently dead; skin-tissue-stuff pale, eyes blank and a hole in his head where Thanos took the mind stone, but he acts normal. Then Wanda sees him again looking normal. Vision tells her they don’t have to stay here if they don’t want to, and Wanda replies that they can’t; that this is their home--’Oh, don’t worry darling. I have everything under control.’ Which affirms Geraldine’s claim at the end of episode 3, that it’s all Wanda. (I’m going to refer to her as Geraldine when talking about episodes 1-3 and Monica when talking about 4-9, even though it’s the same character.)

Wanda and Vision sit down to watch TV and the credits begin, though Vision seems a little apprehensive.

And we finally have some answers about what the hell has been happening in Westview, and the vaguest idea how it fits into the MCU timeline as a whole.

Episode Five: ‘On a Very Special Episode...’ This episode was released on February 5th, with a runtime of 41 minutes, longer than any of its predecessors but still not exceptionally long. This is likely so it can follow the 1980s sitcom format with the inclusion of the SWORD parts. Note at this point, when the decade shifts, it occurs as something goes wrong: we shift to the 1960s when Mr and Mrs Hart question Wanda and Vision about how they came to Westview; we shift to the 1970s when they see the beekeeper, and we shift to the 1980s as Wanda forces Monica out of Westview.

So, we have the recap; nothing particularly noteworthy about it or its focus.

Shit, I just realised Tony’s snap at the end of Avengers: Endgame is now part of the Marvel logo sequence. Ouch.

Music plays, and we open to Tommy crying in a 1980s-style house. This episode is mostly formatted off Full House, in which Elizabeth Olsen’s elder sisters, identical twins Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen, played the youngest daughter, Michelle Tanner. Unrelated to the plot, but a fun aspect.

Billy and Tommy won’t stop crying, so Wanda tries to force them to sleep with her powers, but it doesn’t work, and we still don’t see the red sparks, but, again, that’s an 80s-style special effects thing. Also, aspect ratio in this episode: a little larger than in episodes 1-3, but not quite episode 4′s. Funny thing here is that episodes 1-3 were shot and edited in such a way the episodes registered on Disney+ as having a larger ratio, giving a black border around the frame on the screen, but it doesn’t have that in this episode. Just a technical thing I’m not sure of the cause of, though in retrospect may simply be to convey the size of TV screens in the eras.

Also, can we take a moment to appreciate Wanda’s curly hair and floral waistcoat in this episode?

Agnes shows up to help them with the babies, to which Vision is apprehensive, and after a moment, she says to Wanda: ‘Do you want me to take that again?’ as though they’re following a script. This continues, Agnes asks if they should take it from the top, which confuses Vision,  but Wanda just laughs it off. This is interesting, because the only other person we’ve yet seen break character is Geraldine, who entered the anomaly after its initial formation. Then Agnes shifts back into character, and the laugh track picks up again.

Vision questions Agnes’s comments aside with Wanda, but Wanda brushes it off, and acts as though nothing happened, and his suspicion only grows.

Then suddenly the twins are about... five? I’d say five. I don’t know. As Wanda and Vision realise this, Agnes says, ‘Kids. You can’t control ‘em. No matter how hard you try.’ There’s a running theme of children in this show--obviously the children themselves, ‘for the children’ in episode 2, and Mrs Hart’s questioning of when they were going to have children in episode 1. This semantic field fed theories that Wanda was literally doing this ‘for the children’, and this comment from Agnes could suggest the children will be the downfall of the anomaly--Wanda brainwashes the adults, but not the children.

The introduction to this episode is really cute. It has a mellow pop song playing over the top, and the 80s thing of using old photos of the characters; they’ve used actual photos of Elizabeth Olsen and the actors playing the twins, and mildly horrifying photoshopped versions of Paul Bettany as a child, but made into Vision. These photos of Vision were leaked before this episode came out, and it’s just hilarious to me because Vision was born an adult. And, assuming WandaVision takes place in 2024, after Avengers: Endgame and Spider-Man: Far From Home, Vision is literally nine years old as it takes place.

There generally isn’t much to pick apart in the theme songs themselves, but the general idea of this one is ‘we’re making it up as we go along,’ which could be an interesting insight into Wanda’s state of mind--we’ve somewhat villainised her up to this point, creating the anomaly and controlling people, but the stance should be taken that she just doesn’t know what she’s doing, and is trying her best, selfish as her goals may be.

Cut to Hayward questioning Monica about her memories, and she describes a hopeless feeling--grief--controlling her--Wanda’s grief at the loss of Vision in the fight against Thanos. They take some kind of scan of Monica’s body and draw blood, but have to redo them because the results came out blank--foreshadowing.

Hayward describes Wanda as ‘the principal victimiser’ instead of one of the victims of whatever was happening in Westview, jumping straight to villainous conclusions.

A point here: in a recap of the ‘subjects’, Jimmy Woo states Wanda was born in 1989, which is actually a change to canon, because in the events of Avengers: Age of Ultron, set in 2015, she was 16, born in 1999. Questionable. Still not sure why they did this, but this makes her 29 in WandaVision, excluding the years of the Blip, where she would otherwise be only 19.

Hayward asks Jimmy if Wanda has an alias--in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Scarlet Witch, but this alias has not yet been stated in the MCU--foreshadowing. Hayward focuses on her failures, such as working against the Avengers upon her introduction and the destruction she caused in Nigeria at the beginning of Captain America: Civil War. He then calls Wanda a terrorist based on how Monica described her experience in Westview.

Hayward then reveals to us footage of Wanda entering the SWORD headquarters where Vision’s body was kept, and shattering glass to access it, broken into pieces, as though to steal it, which Jimmy doesn’t believe because it’s a violation of the Sokovia Accords, and Darcy wonders what will happen when Vision learns the truth.

Wanda comes into the kitchen to find Tommy and Billy with a dog they found and want to keep. Wanda is apprehensive about letting them keep him, Agnes shows up with a dog house, and Wanda decides to create a dog collar, right in front of Agnes. Vision calls her out on this, and she says she’s ‘tired of hiding’. They name the dog Sparky, then Wanda sides with Vision that the twins aren’t old enough to care for him until they’re ten years old, to which they just age themselves up again. Agnes jokes that the dog should stay the same size, but still doesn’t question the magic.

A note here: Wanda skips decades when things don’t go her way, and the twins skip ages--Wanda is in control of the things around her, but not herself, as they are in control of themselves.

Meanwhile, Monica tries to figure out how she could re-enter Westview, and Darcy starts to call the anomaly the Hex because of its hexagonal shape. And they discuss that Wanda must be wielding ‘an insane amount of power’ to maintain the Hex and the twins, beyond anything she’s ever displayed before. Monica mentions she could’ve taken down Thanos on her own if he hadn’t used the infinity stones, and Jimmy mentions he thinks Captain Marvel came close, to which Monica stiffens, and dismisses the conversation about her--something has clearly happened between Monica and Carol since the events of Captain Marvel.

They go a lab to run an analysis on the 70s clothes Monica wore when she came out of the Hex, and discover they’re bulletproof, like the vest she wore when she entered, and they establish Wanda isn’t creating anything, but is rewriting reality.

Vision goes to work, where he helps his co-worker Norm with his computer, and they get an email from SWORD about Westview, mentioning Darcy and radiation. Everyone in the office reads it out with Norm, but they laugh at it, while Vision is suspicious. He turns off the computer with his powers, then does the same zap-thing to Norm, who suddenly comes back to his regular consciousness, outside of Wanda’s control, and begs for help. He tells Vision he has to stop ‘her’, that ‘she’s in [his] head’. Vision zaps him again, and he goes back into sitcom-brain.

Wanda tells the twins Vision went to work, which they question because it’s Saturday. Wanda tells them he just needed a distraction because they weren’t ‘on the same page’. She talks about family, and tells them that her on brother is far away.

Sparky the dog barks at something outside, and we cut to a drone’s view. Monica has sent in an 80s drone, something the Hex wouldn’t need to rewrite, and we see that’s what Sparky barked at. Monica tries to speak to Wanda, and through the drone’s view, but not the broadcast’s, her eyes turn red, and Hayward orders an operator to ‘take the shot’, though Monica didn’t know it was armed. They take the shot and the drone’s camera cuts out. Alarms blare, and a worker claims ‘there’s a breach.’

We go outside to the border, and Wanda exits the Hex, wearing what she wore in the climax of the Infinity Saga, dragging the drone behind her. This is confusing to watch back, because I know in retrospect she wore civilian clothes when the Hex was created, and was left in them when it was destroyed. Shooters aim their guns at her, and she throws the drone to Hayward’s feet. As she talks, what she had elft of her accent in Avengers: Infinity War has returned. She tells them to ‘stay out of [her] home,’ that ‘if [they] don’t bother [her], [she], won’t bother [them].’ Monica talks to her, and she prepares her magic. Monica asks what she wants, and she replies ‘[she has] what [she wants]. And no-one will ever take it from [her] again.’

And ‘for the children’ clicks--Wanda clearly created the Hex to have a life and a family with Vision. Wanda uses her magic to turn the guns onto Hayward, but they don’t shoot as she returns to the Hex.

This scene is important, because it shows us for certain that Wanda is aware of what she is doing, and shows for certain that she is in control, where before we had substantial evidence, but nothing this undeniable.

And cue this episode’s advert, for Lagos Brand paper towels--’For when you make a mess you didn’t mean to.’ This is a reference to an event at the beginning of Captain America: Civil War, in which Wanda accidentally killed twenty-six civilians in Lagos, Nigeria.

We cut back to the Hex, where Sparky has disappeared. They cross paths with a mailman, who says ‘Your Mom won’t let him get far,’ another subconscious reference of one of Wanda’s cast to her control. They find the dog dead in Agnes’s yard, who says he ate her azaleas, which poisoned him. The twins are upset, but Wanda stops them aging up, and gives them a lecture about grief. One of the twins tells her she can ‘fix the dead,’ which Agnes does question. This is a reference to her apparent resurrection of Vision, but Wanda tells them death is inevitable and forever; blatant hypocrisy. 

Later, Vision asks Wanda how the boys are, and Wanda says ‘life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs’, a reference to the show’s time-jumping. Vision tells Wanda of his conversation with Norm, and tells her he was in pain. Vision says ‘You can’t control me the way you do them,’ to which Wanda replies, ‘Can’t I?’ and the credits roll, but sitcom-style credits, not the WandaVision credits.

Wanda tries to leave, and Vision asks about the ‘Maximoff Anomaly’, but she feigns ignorance. He accuses her of controlling the town, the credits stop, and they rise into the air with their powers. Wanda says she did it for both of them, Vision asks what’s outside of Westview, but she doesn’t answer. Vision says he can’t remember his life before Westview, but Wanda reassures him that he is her husband and a father; he asks why there are no other children in Westview, which she again dismisses. Wanda exaggerates the insanity of what he thinks--gaslighting--and says she doesn’t know how it started in the first place.

The doorbell rings, which she says she didn’t do, and Wanda opens the door to Pietro Maximoff, the brother who she claimed was ‘far away’, but we know to be dead. Except it isn’t Aaron Taylor Johnson’s Pietro, from Avengers: Age of Ultron, and it’s not just a recast. He’s played by Evan Peters, who plays the version of Quicksilver in the X-Men movies, which is clearly intentional.

This led to speculation about the opening of the multiverse, and even though WandaVision doesn’t directly go that route, Wanda’s next appearance is going to be in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.

This episode was an excellent one, and we’ve truly begun to build towards the climax.

Episode Six: ‘All-New Halloween Spooktacular!’ Released February 12th, this episode has a still-leaving-a-lot-to-be-desired 37 minute runtime, and is one of the ones primarily featured in the trailers, which showed Wanda and Vision dressed in mock-up costumes of their character design in the comic books, which is especially exciting for Wanda, because, not only has she not yet been officially called ‘Scarlet Witch’, she also hasn’t had an official costume, with most of her other outfits in a darker red, but not the comic Scarlet Witch.

Recap of the relevant information, roll the Marvel logo, and this episode opens with a fast-paced theme song, which shows Wanda for the first time with the red effects of her magic in the Hex through the sitcom camera. This song mentions ‘illusion’ again and again, then moves into a rather elongated verse of repeating ‘let’s keep it going’, implying Wanda is now simply trying to extend the time she has with her family.

The twins introduce the episode in that 1990s break-the-fourth-wall style, they play with Pietro, and Wanda comes downstairs in her costume, claiming to be a Sokovian fortune teller. Pietro says it’s ‘worse than the costumes Mom made us the year we got typhus,’ and we cut to a really brief flashback of Wanda and Pietro trick-or-treating; Wanda has her hair in a braid and Pietro has an eyepatch, which some thought might just be an Easter egg of the two dressing as Black Widow and Nick Fury, but looking at it now, it seems more incidental.

Vision then comes downstairs in his costume, and says he’s only wearing it because Wanda took all his other clothes out of his closet, and that it’s a Mexican wrestler. He tries to leave for the neighbourhood watch, to which Wanda starts, ‘No, that’s not what you’re supposed to--’ as though she’s beginning to lose control over the Hex. Pietro dresses in a mock-Quicksilver costume, and dresses Tommy in something similar, referencing that Tommy, in the comics, also has superspeed. 

Wanda tries to test Pietro on a memory of their childhood, which he calls her out on, and she asks why he looks different, but he says ‘you tell me’, again implying this is her doing. Wanda talks to Herb, one of the neighbours and a member of the watch, who tells her Vision isn’t on duty.

Cut to Vision near the edge of town, and he sees people in their yard repeating the same motions over and over, as if Wanda has less control over the outskirts of town.

Cut to this episode’s commercial: this one is animated, of a boy of a deserted island, and a shark jumps out of the water, and gives him a ‘Yo-Magic’ yoghurt to eat, which the boy takes, but is too weak to open. Time passes, and we watch him starve--’Yo-Magic! The snack for survivors!’ This could be referring to Wanda’s inability to save the people around her with her magic--she couldn’t save HYDRA’s other test subjects, then she couldn’t save Pietro, then Vision.

Wanda asks Pietro what happened to his accent, and he asks her the same question, then tells her his memories are fuzzy. Tommy then goes to get candy, and reveals his superspeed powers. He and Billy then go off with a promise not to ‘go past Ellis Avenue.’

Darcy, Jimmy and Monica hack into Hayward’s data, and discover he figured out a way through the boundary, and that he’s tracking Vision and the people in his vicinity. They notice the people at the edge of town are hardly moving. Cut to Vision, who realises the people even further out are completely stagnant. He then morphs from his human costume to his typical Vision-self, flies upward and observes the town, noticing a car at the edge, which he flies down to.

We see Agnes in the car, dressed as a witch and still, but not unresponsive like the others. She tells him she got lost--’In the town you grew up in?--and he zaps her the way he did Norm in the last episode. She recognises him as Vision, an Avenger, but he doesn’t know what an Avenger is. She tells him he’s dead, and explains Wanda’s control, then laughs manically until Vision zaps her again, and she once again becomes the Nosy Neighbour, then turns the car and drives away. We zoom out to the street sign: Ellis Avenue.

Darcy sees Monica’s bloodwork in Hayward’s files, and tells Monica she can’t go back into the Hex as she wishes, because she’s already been through the boundary twice, and had her cells rewritten molecularly--Ms Marvel!! But Monica dismisses it, and tells Darcy she won’t stop until she helps Wanda.

Pietro accuses Wanda laughingly of only avoiding traumatising the town’s children by only bringing them out for a holiday cameo, but praises her, because ‘Families and couples stay together, most personalities aren’t far off from what’s underneath, people got better jobs, better haircuts, for sure,’ and tells her he’s impressed, but asks how she did it, which she doesn’t answer, then tells him she doesn’t know how she did it. She just remembers loneliness, and numbness.

She then looks back to Pietro, and sees him with bullet wounds in his chest; dead the way she saw Vision in episode 4, but she blinks it away.

Darcy watches Hayward’s tracking of Vision, and he approaches the barrier, sees it in all its television glory. Then he pushes through. He strains to make it through, and SWORD agents pull up on the other side. He nearly makes it, cape all that’s left, but it clearly painful, and he falls to the ground. Chunks of him tear off and fly back through the barrier. Meanwhile, Billy realises something is wrong with an echo of Wanda’s power, hearing Vision’s yells, and runs to Wanda.

Hayward handcuffs Darcy to stop her trying to get him to help Vision as he comes apart. Wanda asks Billy where Vision is, to which Pietro says, ‘Hey, don’t sweat it, sis. It’s not like your dead husband can die twice.’ Her eyes turn red and she sends him flying into a haystack. Billy focuses, and sees the SWORD soldiers, says he thinks Vision’s dying, and Wanda freezes everything around her, then sends out a blast of power.

Outside, the boundary of the Hex moves, expanding, and the SWORD agents panic to get away as Vision is re-encapsulated, but Darcy is handcuffed, and t passes over her. The SWORD camp turns into a circus, but Hayward, Monica and Jimmy get away--slightly wondering why Monica tried to when she was trying to get back in.

And the episode ends there. I don’t really have much of a conclusion to this episode--in truth, not too much actually happened aside from Pietro and the twins, but we are so building to the climax. This is also actually furthered by the absence of a laugh track in this episode, though this is also due to the fact they became less common.

And that summarises my breakdown of episodes 4-6. Part 3, with episodes 7-9, will come next week!

[mi-ma-mo]

Eye-shiteru

Character(s): Date Kaname, Aiba, Amanoma Futa (Pewter) and Kuranushi Shizue (Boss). 

Ratings: T for Teen and up audiences

Summary: Date meets Aiba for the first time. It’s weird.

Author’s Note: The events described in this fic may differ from their actual meeting in-game. I just LOVE Aiba and AI in general, so I wanted to explore this part of the game a bit more. There are spoilers if you squint. 

Read it here or on AO3. Enjoy! 

“The official title is "AI-Ball". You may call her Aiba.”

Date stared at the round device in the palm of Pewter’s hand. He didn’t have the best view on it from where he was standing but it sure looked to be an eyeball. 

“The artificial intelligence contained within this sphere is nothing short of miraculous,” Pewter continued. The scientist was always excited to talk, but today he seemed to be in even higher spirits as he presented his proudest creation yet. “An autonomous artificial intelligence, birthed from collective nanotechnology. Its ability to "think" is controlled by a program we call the Wadjet System.”

Date was listening. Of course he was! But as Pewter rambled on about the device in his hand, Date couldn’t help but have some concerns about it going from Pewter’s hand straight into his eye socket. Would that be sanitary? 

“Special Agent Date, from today forward, this is your partner. She will be your personal computer and your personal companion.”

Nodding, Date carefully picked up the device between his thumb and forefinger. He studied it for a moment. The “iris” was yellow, different from his green right eye. That… was kind of hot, right? He thought he remembered reading somewhere that women find heterochromia extremely attractive. His sources for these kinds of things were reliable of course. The trivia pages of porno magazines hadn’t let him down before, except maybe that one time–

Date immediately lost his train of thought and almost dropped the eye when it suddenly moved up to look at him. The “pupil” adjusted in size to focus on him and it was then that Date actual felt the weight of the device he was holding in his hand. If he had wanted to be more attractive to women any prosthetic eye in a different colour than his biological one would have sufficed, but now he was signing up for so much more. 

He had butterflies in his stomach, but they were from nerves or excitement he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both? He spared a glance at Pewter who was smiling at him as if to be saying ‘Go on’. 

“Not to be rude, but is this–” “Sanitary? Yes, of course. You see–” 

Date zoned out for the long and winded explanation that followed. Something about some kind of gel being bacterial- and virus-resistant, pH-neutral, and giving the device freedom of movement as well. Date was unsure about what Pewter meant with that last part, but he decided against asking any follow-up questions about it. He was more focused on the eye itself and how it seemed to study him as much as he was studying it. 

“Well, upsy-daisy,” Date said as he finally lifted the device and attempted to pop it into his eye socket. 

The eye went in surprisingly easy despite him not having any experience with prosthetic eyes. Once the eye seemed to be settled in place a few things happened in quick succession.

A small shock wave was sent through his nervous system without warning. It wasn’t painful, but it did make his hair stand on end. Then, immediately after, something alien to him happened. 

The AI-Ball adjusted its “pupil” and for the very first time Date experienced depth perception. He had taught himself to live around his inability to correctly estimate distance, but this… He had no idea just how much he had been missing out on. 

Looking at Pewter now Date was reminded of pop-up picture books. There was no other way for him to describe just how much of a difference his newfound depth perception made. Of course, his overall vision had improved too. He felt a slight headache coming up just from the information overload. 

And then, suddenly, a clear female voice spoke in his mind.  

[ Hello. My name is Aiba. What is your name? ] 

Admittedly, it took Date an embarrassingly long time to form a simple reply. “My name is Kaname Date. Nice to meet you, Aiba.”

[ It’s nice to meet you too, Date. There is much I have to discuss with you, but for now, I will have Pewter do the talking for me. ]

Aiba had barely finished her sentence before Pewter began yet another spiel, this time about how Date wouldn’t have to speak out loud to be heard by Aiba. These were all things Date had heard before, Pewter had given him a rundown with every new feature he developed, but this time he did do his best to listen. Being able to speak with each other without actually needing to exchange words was perhaps the most convenient perk of his new eye. 

Pewter also gave Date a rundown on how to take care of Aiba. For some reason, it came as a surprise to him that she would have to be charged just like any other electronic device. Everything else Pewter had told him about her sounded so high-tech that he had assumed Aiba could recharge just by getting a few hours of sunlight or something. He sure hoped he would never get in a situation in which Aiba’s battery would die at the most crucial moment.

Then came the paperwork. There was so much of it. Pewter sat him down and made him read and agree to all of it. The ink pad for his Hanko seal was going to be dried up by the time he had stamped every page that asked for his signature. It was a boring yet necessary task that left him with enough time to think and ask some questions. 

[ I’m sorry for exposing you to all this boring paperwork right of the bet. My life is more exciting than this usually, ] Date thought to Aiba. [ Can you hear all my thoughts or just the ones I want you to hear? ] 

[ Unknown. You do not appear to be thinking much, if at all. ] The clear female voice he had heard before replied.  

“Excuse me?!” Date said out loud, startling Pewter who was sitting right beside him and had been reading along. 

[ You are excused. ]

“Is something the matter?” Pewter asked. “If you would like me to explain something that is written here I can.”

Date shook his head and continued reading. Who did Aiba think she was?

[ I’m me. ]

Well… that at least answered his question from earlier. 

“Say Pewter, it seems Aiba can hear my thoughts regardless if they are targeted to her or not. Would you say that is a feature or a bug?” 

No sooner had Date asked that question or Pewter and Aiba shouted ‘It’s not a bug!’ in unison, something which was no small feat as they currently couldn’t hear each other. Despite the ringing in his ears (and brain?), Date let out a hearty laugh. 

“I’m only kidding. It is of no concern to me if that is one of Aiba’s…” Date paused for dramatic effect, “features. I trust you and this technology, so I don’t consider this an invasion of my privacy. That’s what all this paperwork is about, right?” 

Date gestured at all the papers that still needed his seal of approval. He was aware you needed to be a certain kind of person to be able to agree to essentially having a person (be it an artificial one) share your brain space with you. If he were to believe Pewter and all the legal stuff in these papers than his thoughts and memories would be stored safely in the cloud connected to the Wadjet System. 

While this would freak almost anyone out, Date found a sort of comfort in it. Having his eyesight back was nice and of course having an AI partner would come in handy for his job, but the knowledge that he could have his memories stored away safety had unknowingly played the biggest part in him agreeing to do this. If he were to lose his memory again, then at the very least not all of him would be lost this time.  

“Well, yes. It would be a lie if I didn’t say most of these papers concern your privacy, but there’s a bit more nuance to it than just that. I don’t think you can put a price tag on life-changing technology like this. That being said, this is a rather large business expense for just one individual. That’s why I was gone to speak with the higher-ups that often, to explain to them that this would be for everyone’s benefit.” 

Pewter sounded tired as he said that. He looked tired as he said that. Date had asked him many times before if he should come with for these dreaded discussions, but every time Pewter had waved him off and said something along the lines of him lacking the knowledge on the technologies in question to turn the conversation around. 

It felt only right then to place a hand on Pewter’s shoulder. Surely Pewter could feel Date’s manly gratitude from that manly shoulder touch alone. Pewter’s tired expression softened into a slight smile. 

[ I suggest expressing your gratitude in words as well. We live in a society in which men being open and expressing their feelings is looked down upon. This needs to change. ] 

Date nodded as he considered Aiba’s point. Pewter was still smiling at him, but his eyebrows started to furrow as the awkward silence between them dragged on. 

“Pewter…” Date finally began, struggling to find the right words. “There’s something on my mind I’ve been meaning to say. All this time I have been thinking…” 

Date tilted his head with a sly smile. He let go of Pewter’s shoulder and pointed at his new eye in one smooth motion. “This is totally hot, right?” 

Never before had Pewter looked more puzzled, which said a lot considering he was one of the leading detectives and scientist of ABIS. The abnormal was their normal. 

“You mean Aiba? She should be matching the temperature of your body. It’s no good if she’s too hot, please take her out immediately.”

[ It is as Pewter says. I am matching your temperature to the dot. What seems to be the problem? ]

Date waved his hand before crossing his arms; what a tough crowd. “No, not that. The heterochromia! Women find it extremely attractive. I would say my charm has increased by 25– no, 50%!”

[ Affirmative. Heterochromia is an eye condition that is quite rare in the human species but is desired by many. ]

[ What? Really?! Maybe with this Reika from the cabaret club and I can– ] 

“I can’t speak for all women or any woman for that matter, but I do see the appeal,” Petwer admitted, rolling his desk chair back to its usual spot behind his PC as he spoke. “Regardless, if you can make jokes like that then you must be feeling fine. After you’ve worked through that paperwork we’ll do a few scans and tests to make sure everything is as it should be. If you will excuse me, I have some work to do.”

Date watched as Pewter rapidly entered a seemingly random string of characters to unlock his PC. How the scientist got his insanely long password right first try each time was without a doubt the biggest secret between ABIS’ walls. Date returned to his paperwork for a few moments before interrupting Pewter’s work just once. 

“Hey Pewter, thank you. Really.”

After all the paperwork from Date’s side had been dealt with and the scans and tests Pewter had put Date and Aiba through had turned up no complications, they had been told to take the rest of the day off. Boss had been very clear that they had to acclimate to each other, and although Date wasn’t one to ever go a day without working overtime, he thought it wouldn’t be bad to go home early today. 

The walk from headquarters to the spot he had parked his car had felt strangely alien to Date. All his surroundings had a new layer of depth to them, both literally and figuratively. He had been staring at the blossom tree he had parked his car under for quite some time when the clear female voice he was gradually getting used to spoke up in his mind. 

[ It’s beautiful. ] 

“…I agree, but I must say,” Date spoke as he moved his gaze from the tree to his car. “I could do without all the flower petals on my windshield.”

He began sweeping away the flower petals with his gloved hand, but not all of them felt like cooperating. The ones with a little moister on them stuck to the glass as if hanging on for dear life and got ripped in half as he passed over them. He used a gentler touch to remove those. 

Pinching one of the last of the petals between his dumb and forefinger, Date was reminded of how he had held Aiba in much the same way earlier today. Her inner parts were probably just as delicate as this blossom, but he hadn’t considered that while handling her. 

[ Not to fret, I am not as delicate as you think. I’ve been put through many pressure tests to guarantee your safety. ] 

“What about your safety? What if I dropped you and stepped on you by accident?” 

[ I would probably not suffer any damages in a scenario as such, but even if I would your safety and that of other humans would take priority over mine. You must be familiar with the Three Laws of Robotics, yes? ] 

“Remind me?”

[ One: a robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Two: a robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. Three: a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. I am an artificial intelligence and not a robot, but these rules also apply to me. ] 

“Hmm…” Date hummed, quickly disposing of the last petals that would get in the way while driving. “If possible I will try to avoid putting you in situations in which you have to prioritize my safety above your own. This line of work comes with its fair amount of dangers, though, so no promises.”

[ …The thought is appreciated. ]

The car ride home itself was pretty uneventful safe from the fact that Date had a far easier time keeping the correct distance from cars before him. He rhythmically tapped the fingers of his right hand on the steering wheel while remaining concentrated on the road. 

If Aiba had any questions for him, then she wasn’t speaking up to ask them. That was fine, Date was tired after today away. It would take him some time to get used to all the new stimuli Aiba was giving him. He wondered if he should take her out later, much like how people with glasses would take these off after work in the evening hours. 

Coming home rather early, Date was able to find a nice parking spot near his studio. It was just something small, but he didn’t take it for granted. Usually, when he was coming home late there would be almost no parking spots left in his block, meaning he would almost always go for an unintended evening walk. 

[ That’s where I live. You’ll see it’s not much, just a place to sleep and eat, but I do like it, ] Date thought to Aiba as he looked up at the building. 

[ Home address saved to my database. Tomorrow morning I can calibrate the fastest route to Tokyo MPD. ]

[ You can do that? Neat. ]

After unlocking the front door Date opened his mailbox to find a bunch of unopened mail. He might have forgotten to take his mail out for a few days. One envelop fell out of the mailbox, but he was able to catch it in mid-air with surprising precision. Odd, he didn’t remember being able to do that before. 

Date gathered the mail and quickly looked through it as he made his way up the stairs. To his relieve it was mostly junk mail. It all went straight into the trash after he had unlocked the door to his studio, but he did hold onto one thing. 

He was smiling from ear to ear as he studied the flyer for a special event at Sunfish Pocket. The (mer)maids would be doing a special show involving dance and song, probably to attract more new costumers. The pink-haired maid was prominently on the flyer, striking a quirky pose. She seemed to be the most popular maid at Sunfish Pocket, but Date hadn’t caught her name yet. 

“Maybe if I have the time,” Date mumbled to himself as he pinned the flyer in an empty corner on his pinboard. The colourful flyer with its bold text stuck out like a sore thumb next to pictures of crime scenes and snippets of statements from victims, but he had to put it somewhere where he could see it so he wouldn’t forget to go. 

[ I can arrange a date and time for you to pay a visit to this Sunfish Pocket if you please. You gave me access to your work agenda. ]

“Thanks, but no thanks. That won’t be necessary. I will just visit them if it’s around my lunchtime and I happen to nearby for a job.”

[ As you wish. ]

Date had been so consumed by the flyer that he had forgotten to show Aiba around. Not that there was much to show, this was but a small studio after all. 

“The bathroom is over there,” he said as he looked at the only other door in the room. “I do all of my other business here. Sleep, eat, solve crimes, you name it.”

He nonchalantly pushed the porno magazines on the floor under his bed with his foot as he walked passed. The silence that followed felt heavy with judgement. 

[ You live by yourself here then? ] Aiba finally broke the silence. 

“I do. We’ll be living here together from here on forward, I suppose.”

[ In that case, I will ask you to do something about the state of this room. I have no sense of smell, but the place looks like it would stink. ] 

“Hey, I will have you know I cleaned up,” Date tried to defend himself. There indeed was a musty smell in the air, but Aiba didn’t have to know that. Date gestured at the full trash bags stashed in one of the corners of the room. “I just haven't been able to take the trash out yet, that’s all.” 

[ I suggest you take them out first thing in the morning. I will not be cooperating with you otherwise. ]

“You…” Aiba was right of course, but Date was a proud man. He wasn’t about to let an eyeball tell him what to do, especially not one with attitude. He would throw the trash bags out tomorrow, though. Not because Aiba had told him, but because he had been planning on throwing them out anyway! No other reason. 

[ Ugh, men. ] Was the last thing Date heard Aiba say before something unexpected happened. 

She fell(?) out of his eye socket. Just as she was about to hit the coffee table she got encased in some kind of transparent gel and stuck a landing. She had taken the shape of a hamster or some other kind of rodent, but where the face would be was just one big eye. 

“Wouldn’t you say my charm has increased by 25– no, 50% now that I am no longer in your eye socket?” Aiba asked, putting one of her little paws on her hip and the other one her head as if to be striking a sexy pose. 

Date frowned as he moved to sit on the floor next to the coffee table. He squinted his one eye as he looked at Aiba up close. 

“I’m going to ask Pewter to do something about that personality of yours. There shouldn’t be this much sass in just one eyeball.”

“I am simply matching yours, so if you don’t like it then do some self-reflection.”

“Excuse you.”

“I am excused.”

It was hard to tell seeing as Aiba had few to no facial features, but she seemed to be in a good mood from the way her tiny gel body was hopping around on the table as she looked around. 

“Can you tell me about those?” Aiba asked after a few moments of hopping around and observing her surroundings. 

Date followed her gaze to find the porno magazines he had unskilfully pushed under his bed. “…I would prefer not to.”

“You collect them as a hobby?” Aiba pressed on as she sat down, allowing her adorable little feet to stick up. “What else do you like? Our teamwork will improve if we get to know each other better.”

Date thought about the latter question for a moment (he refused to think on the first) before he carefully scooped Aiba up in his hands. He walked up to the windows of his studio and opened the blinds. They were a few stores off the ground and this apartment complex was one of the higher buildings in the area, so they had a bit of a view from here.

“You can’t see it from here, but there is a shrine I like to visit in that direction,” Date replied as he pointed in the direction the shrine would be. “I don’t believe in that stuff, but it’s a nice quiet place in the middle of the city. I go there often when I’m stuck on a case and I need to think.”

 “I see.”

“How about you? What do you like?”

“Insects!” Aiba proclaimed happily, almost as if she had been waiting to be asked that question. 

“Insects? What do you like about them?”

“I simply think they are cute.”

“Cute?” That was one of the last words Date would use to describe insects. “You’re weird.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a man in his thirties living by himself with a huge porno magazine collection.”

“That’s perfectly normal as far as I’m concerned!”

Aiba and Date quickly acclimated to each other in the months that followed. They made a pretty good team, their constant bickering aside. About a year later Mizuki Okiura, the daughter of Date’s friend Renju Okiura, came to live with them. She was a troublemaker for sure. Date didn’t think he was well suited to being Mizuki’s guardian, but he did try to make a home for her. Aiba always pushed Date to be the best parental figure he could be.

Around that same time, Boss had given him a call and asked him to come to her office. When he arrived she was already sitting legs crossed on top of her desk. She gestured for him to sit down in his usual spot, which he did. 

“As I said on the phone, I would like to discuss how your partnership with Aiba is going,” Boss said, indeed iterating what she had told them before on the line. “Could Aiba come out? I would like to discuss this with both of you.”

Aiba popped out of Date’s eye socket and he handed her over to Boss so she could sit comfortably next to her on the desk. Date waved at himself in Aiba’s vision and she rolled her one eye. Boss giggled at that before continuing. 

“You two seem to be getting along just fine. Date, could you start by telling me how your partnership has been treating you?”

“Yes, of course. It has been… how do I say this?” Date saw himself fidgeting in Aiba’s vision as he tried to come up with the right words. Summarizing how this past year had treated in was hard to do in just a few sentences. “It’s been eye-opening? Pun intended.”

“Absolutely hated that, but go on.”

“Well… In short, I would say it has been good? We have our differences, but it’s never something we can’t work out together. There are plenty of cases I don’t think I would have been able to crack without her and she also makes sure Mizuki and I are eating well by forcing me to go out and go grocery shopping.”

“But more importantly than that, she… I don’t know how to explain this very well. I don’t know, I guess you could say… The world has more colour now? Everything was so bleak before. I had nothing after I lost all of my memories. Even after you, Boss, had taken me under your wing I was just going through the motions. Now I look forward to every new day.”

Boss switched her legs’ positions as she pounder on what Date had said. After deliberating her own words for a few moments she replied. 

“So you would say you’re happy now?” she asked, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile.

“…Yes, I would say I’m happy now.”

Boss sent a knowing glance at Aiba, one that Date missed completely because he quickly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye when the opportunity to not be seen doing so presented itself.

“How about you, Aiba?” Boss continued. “Has this absolute disaster of a man been treating your well?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Date bit back, but the words didn’t come out as harshly as he had hoped.

Aiba laughed, her tiny gel body shaking slightly. “I don’t have much to add. I’m happy too, Date.”

“Great!” Boss interrupted their whole moment. She scooped up Aiba and threw her at Date. He managed to catch her, but only barely. “That’s another to do crossed off my list. Get out there and solve some crimes you two.”

“Yes, Boss!” Date and Aiba replied in unison. 

Aiba was back in Date’s eye socket before they were out of Boss’ office. After about a year of practice putting her back in was as simple as putting in a contact lens. 

[ She’s crazy, ] Date thought to Aiba. [ I’m not sure how I ever managed to befriend someone like that. ]

[ You and Boss are more alike than you might think. ]

[ Are you calling me crazy? ]

[ Affirmative. But I’m glad. My purpose is to serve you. I’m happy to hear I’m serving you well. ] 

Date reached for Aiba and carefully petted her with one finger. [ This is unlike you. Want me to have Pewter check up on you? ]

[ It takes one to know one. I saw you crying back there. ]

[ Shush. There was something in my eye, that was all. ]

[ Uh-huh. ]

A gust of wind gave them a dramatic exit as they stepped out of the Tokyo MPD building. Date didn’t know which life-changing events would be waiting for him, but he was sure of one thing. Aiba would always be there to have his back. 

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

Descending into Madness An Anarchist-Nihilist Diary of Anti-Psychiatry

Just sayin’... The opinions expressed in this text represent no other than my own. My position against psychiatry is based on my own personal experience and should not be taken as an authority on the subject. Psychiatry, medications, and or psychiatric incarceration is considered helpful by some, and I wish them the very best experience with it.

But also... To the ‘freaks’, the ‘weirdos’, the ‘delinquents’, and the unruly... To those who embrace these words like daggers drawn against civility, To the insubordinate youth who refuse to tranquilize their play with meds, To those who riot in the asylums, and those who dare to escape from them...

Let the moonlight illuminate our iconoclasm, witches and savage animals spellbinding fire in the night, for the destruction of society, with the courage of unmedicated confrontation.

Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside the limits of any society, unruly and heroic tramps will wander with their wild and virgin thought — those who cannot live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of rebellion! I shall be among them!” — Renzo Novatore

I’m sittin’ at a big round table with about three nurses and two doctors. My eyes are sensitive to the light cus I haven’t slept in days. A nurse directly beside me has been gently nodding at me with the same look of concern for about an hour. My vision keeps blurring and then re-focusing. My hands are slightly trembling. I’ve been fighting the urge to lay my head down since I sat down. It appears this awkward meeting is almost over, and I have some papers to sign. The doctor who has been talkin’ since I got here is still talkin’ and I admit, I haven’t really been paying much attention. Finally the talking stops and everyone stands up. The nurse beside me helps me up by my arm. I start to feel dizzy. We begin walking down a long hallway and eventually enter a room. Another nurse in the room greets me with a pillow, a blanket, and a pill to “help with rest”. Before sittin’ down on the bed I’ve been assigned, a nurse calmly requests my belt and shoe laces. I comply and decide while I’m up I might as well take a shit before I go to sleep. About five seconds after my ass hits the toilet seat I hear a commotion - frantic pounding and demands to unlock the bathroom door. Confused and startled, I jump up, trip over my pants, and unlock the door. Apparently I’m not allowed to lock the bathroom door - or have it totally closed while I’m in there. I quickly finish shitting in plain view of a nurse and walk back to bed. I notice a different nurse has pulled up a chair right beside it and sits down with a clipboard and pen. I lay down and try to get comfortable while accepting the awkward close watch by this nurse beside me. As I start drifting off to sleep I reflect on everything that’s goin’ on. Oh that’s right. Earlier today I tried to hang myself in my apartment and this is my first night in a psych ward.

**** INDIANAPOLIS, March 18 th 2018 — Resource Treatment Center Riot Nearly a dozen Indianapolis police officers were called to respond Wednesday night to a riot at a juvenile psychiatric treatment and addiction facility on the city’s east side.

Eleven officers were dispatched to 1404 S. State Avenue just before 11 p.m. Wednesday on a report of a disturbance at the facility. The location is home to the Resource Treatment Center juvenile psychiatric facility, as well as Options Transitional Living, which provides sober housing for homeless or at-risk youth.

Police arrived to find that a group of juvenile residents had done more than $50,000-worth of damage to the facility and assaulted four staff members. Officers took nine juveniles ranging in age from 13-17 into custody on preliminary charges of vandalism, rioting, battery and disorderly conduct.

****

During my time at this psychiatric prison I was subjected to what’s called ‘one on ones’ which basically means I’m at risk to myself and therefore require 24 hour observation by staff. Two different nurses watched me shit, sleep, cry in my sleep, and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was required to take meds and a sleep aid everyday. I had face-to-face therapy once a day. I was only allowed one 15 minute phone call per day. I wasn’t allowed outside at all. I was told to “set anchor” because the faculty had no intentions on releasing me “anytime soon”.

All the reasons I was originally depressed took a backseat to this new horror show I found myself in. Everyone in my ward talked about one day gettin’ out, despite being told they would “never make it on the outside”. I couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities to incarceration at a prison for criminals. This was a prison. The more I heard stories of attempted escape, violent physical repression, and hopeless isolation, the more I realized this was not a place to ‘get well’, nor any hospital I ever been to. These prison guards wore scrubs, enforced order with chemical warfare and physical restraint jackets. “The hole” was the padded room. Those who resisted were tackled to the hard floor causing cuts and bruises. And to the nurses and doctors, we were all just “case files” or “subjects” to be talked down to and humiliated. We were in their world now and it was their rules.

“We need a program of psychosurgery and political control of our society. The purpose is physical control of the mind. Everyone who deviates from the given norm can be surgically mutilated. The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does not have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great appeal. We must electrically control the brain. Some day armies and generalswill be controlled by electrical stimulation of the brain.” - Dr. Jose Delgado, a Spanish professor of neurophysiology and author of the book ‘Physical Control of the Mind: Toward a Psychocivilized Society’

The era of institutionalized ‘care’ for those with ‘mental illnesses’ began somewhere around the 19th century with heavy support from the state. Public asylums were built in Britain after the passing of the 1808 County Asylums Act. This created an upsurge of asylums being built everywhere. These asylums were known for inmates havin’ to live in filthy conditions with bars, chains, and handcuffs.

The Lunacy Act 1845 was known to have changed the status of ‘mentally ill’ people to ‘patients’ who required treatment. This led to the eventual chemical treatment of people as ‘medical patients’ – despite the fact that lab tests, X-rays, and brain scans have never verified psychiatric disorders as medical diseases or brain damage. Over time, this inspired the emergence of psychiatric medical experiments on ‘patients’ in order to chemically ‘cure’ their ‘disorders’. The 20th century saw an explosion of psychiatric drugs. The first anti-psychotic drug, Chlorpromazine (brand names: Thorazine, Largactil, Hivernal, and Megaphen) was first synthesized in France in 1950.

Psychiatry, asylums, and prescribed drugs contributed heavily to reinforcing social order and individual submission through fear. As the years went on psychiatry and asylums expanded, re-defining and strengthening the power of state repression and civilized control.

Along with this came an ever-expanding culture of publicly calling out those who were considered ‘disturbed’ or ‘mentally ill’. The first to be targeted were those who didn’t fit the narrowly defined behavioral expectations of society. In the 18th to early 20th century, individuals assigned female at birth were often institutionalized for damn near everything including unpopular opinions, social unruliness or a politicized refusal to be controlled by patriarchal society. Other individuals of various assigned identities who sexually deviated from hetero-normativity were institutionalized and considered “confused” and in need of being converted.

One major marketing scheme deployed by the pharmacology industry was the social construction of an ideal emotional state that every ‘normal’ individual was expected to experience. Today this same ideal can be found everywhere – from televised entertainment to billboard advertisements and so on. The ‘happy’ and ‘depressed’ binary was used to create social pressure leading people to feel isolated or out of place for not happily accepting the conditions of society on a daily basis. Being “sad all the time” was, and still is frowned upon and ridiculed – regardless of its complex nature and the reasons behind it.

Despite being emotionally fluid by nature, the individual human (animal) is expected to fulfill the civilized role of positivist supremacy. This normalized obsession with positivity plays a key role in suppressing emotional responses of outrage to the multitude of oppressive experiences. The obsession with - and normalization of - positivist performance also encourages people to overlook the deep-seated trauma caused by civilization on a daily basis. Everything from the fear of flying, car wrecks, workplace injuries, to being late on bill payments – all examples of fears attributed to trauma. But because civilized life requires wage-slavery and commitment to continue, these forms of trauma are trivialized and written off - usually followed by something like “that’s life” or “it is what it is”.

As techno-industrial society advances, new laws are constructed to create new definitions of ‘criminality’. This means there is an ever-narrowing idea of legalism. The same can be said for psychiatry. As more labels and identities for ‘disorders’ are created, the pharmacology industry expands. And as the conditions of capitalist, industrial society continue to worsen, more misery becomes available for exploitation with the sale of “feel good” prescriptions.

Under capitalism, where there are ‘correctional’ facilities, there is a profit motive to keep them filled. Where there are ‘inmates’ to fill those institutions, there is financial gain or cheap labor. And where there is any potential for social unrest, there is an ideology and identity to categorically define an unruly individual as ‘anti-social’. Society turns ‘disorders’ into categorical identities assigned to those it considers ‘undesirable’ in order to reinforce the social conditions that pressure people into behavioral uniformity.

Today, within the realm of identity politics, psychiatric-assigned identities garner social capital where ever victimhood is glorified for social benefit. As with any form of identity politics, I have seen many individuals exploit psychiatric identities by brandishing them as reasons to rid themselves of responsibility for their actions. And as this plays out in the all-too-familiar social cannibalism of identity politics, individuals personalize these psychiatric- assigned identities and create inverted hierarchies of social entitlement.

Ultimately, a new identity-based movement is formed, gaining media recognition and becomes assimilated into the broader prison of society.

****

Thursday, September 4, 2014 Riot at Central New York Psychiatric Center A dozen staff members were injured when several inmates started rioting in a kitchen area at the Central New York Psychiatric Center on Wednesday.

Four people were hospitalized for their injuries, authorities stated. The fight broke out at about 11:45 a.m., when five to six inmates started attacking staff in one of the kitchen areas using kitchen utensils as weapons, according to the state Correctional Officers & Police Benevolent Association. The inmates tried to fight their way into the mess hall.

At the same time, another fight broke out between inmates and staff on the floor above the kitchen, officials said. The emergency alarms were raised, and security personnel inside the facility were able to break up the two fights, with help from the state police.

****

After careful planning, I was released from psychiatric incarceration much sooner than originally set. The walls were closing in on me and the monotony of daily under-stimulation, medicated numbness, and confinement started breaking me down. Witnessing the prison cannibalism of infighting between incarcerated individuals, I began spiralling worse than I had prior to being there. On top of that, my two attempts to secretly organize a rebellion had failed miserably; the wards or ‘bunks’ were so small that an artificially constructed bond was easily created between most staff and patients. Snitching was heavily rewarded.

Nobody wanted “any problems”. So instead I turned to another method of emancipation; using my own high school knowledge of psychology to convince my therapist I was merely suffering from “a broken heart” due to a “recent romantic breakup”.

Despite the full spectrum of my hatred for society, the life I was living at the time, and the complex emotional storm that raged in my head on a daily basis, I was able to convince my therapist and the other nurses I was just upset over a breakup. The humiliation of having to role-play such a lie paled in comparison to my desire for freedom from that place. Released into my mom’s custody, I was required to continue taking my medications three times a day and seeing a counsellor once a week.

Against the wards request, I went back to living in my apartment. I could see where the police had went through all my notebooks as well as a pocket book of phone numbers. The noose I worked so hard to construct and attach to a wooden beam along my ceiling was gone. To this day I don’t know if my landlord took it or if the police did. My rent was overdue indicated by the notes in my mailbox. Luckily I was working a self-managed painting job at the time so I couldn’t get fired. I could start back up the next week.

That night I masturbated for the first time in what felt like years. But I couldn’t orgasm. The next day I called the doctor who dealt my meds. According to him, my impossible orgasm was common with people on psychiatric medication. A week went by and I continued to feel numb. Nothing was interesting to me. I often found myself watching the hands on clocks move or staring out my window at passing cars. I didn’t feel sad. But I didn’t feel good either. I just existed.

After about a month of being out of the psych ward, I decided to stop taking my meds. The hassle of getting them filled as well as keepin’ up with taking them everyday just wasn’t worth it. And neither was feeling numb. I didn’t know what would happen. Would they find out and send the police to take me back? A couple weeks went by without meds and I started to feel slight changes. I was scared but prepared for the hellish withdrawals I had heard all about. I got dizzy a bit, and some headaches but nothing more. Soon I stopped gettin’ calls from my counsellor. I expected her to be upset and leave me angry voicemails. It never happened. Eventually I felt my appetite change and I could experience emotional reactions to things easier and more frequently. And I finally had an orgasm!

For the next couple years, I reflected on those experiences and began exploring the origins of my suicidal thoughts, the origins of the morbid depression that caused them, as well as the consumerist life I lived as a wage-slave law-abiding citizen.

****

A Riot on Thanksgiving Morning 2016 at Springfield Hospital Center (a regional psychiatric hospital and former slave plantation located in Sykesville, Maryland) In the early-morning hours of Thanksgiving Day, Catherine Starkes and April Savage huddled in an office with several other employees at the Springfield Hospital Center in Carroll County as patients rioted around them.

Starkes and Savage said patients threw chairs, knocked over file cabinets and tried to break into the staff's Plexiglas-enclosed refuge. The patients poured cooking oil over the floors, making them slippery. One patient tried to crawl into the office through the suspended ceiling, Starkes recalled.

It was like no other night she could remember in 22 years of working with dangerously mentally ill patients at Maryland state hospitals.

"They wanted to take over the unit. They seized the unit," she said.

****

“What we say is the truth is what everybody accepts. ...I mean, psychiatry: it's the latest religion. We decide what's right and wrong. We decide who's crazy or not. I'm in trouble here. I'm losing my faith.” -Dr. Railly from the movie “12 Monkeys”

Similar to religion, psychiatry assumes a powerful role in defining “right” or “wrong” in terms of “normal” vs “abnormal” behavior. The standardization of a particular, socially expected behavior is essential for creating categories of people defined in terms of their contribution to the collective success of society. With psychology as a basis for analytically outlining ‘problems’ and suggesting “potential cures”, mass society becomes dependent on its authority for deciding who is “normal” and who isn’t. Certain behavioral characteristics unique to an individual become outlawed in order to maintain this social conformity.

Speaking from my own experience, psychiatry and all its theories, roles, and chemical prescriptions at best aims to merely manage ‘symptoms’ of ‘disorders’ - not eliminate the sources of their creation.

By ‘symptoms’ I am referring to any set of behaviors or emotional responses that indicate an individual’s struggle to conform to societal expectations or ‘normal’ behavior.

By ‘disorders’ I am referring to the set of behaviors or emotional responses that have been selected and condemned by society, and therefore declared a ‘mental illness’ by the authority of psychiatry.

By ‘sources’ I am referring to any and all prisons, societal forms of coercion, and civilized society – all of which pressure individual subservience and ideological conformity.

The conflict of interest in ‘curing’ the ‘mentally ill’ becomes apparent when acknowledging that successful cures to particular behaviors and emotional responses would require the abolition of civilized society all together - the same civilized society that creates trauma, followed by the concept of mental illness and subsequently a ‘solution’ via many forms of emotional anaesthesia.

Another factor of social control built into psychiatry is its ability to distort and control dissenting information. Social systems that require the subordination of individuals are always sharpening their ability to suppress or demonize information – especially information derived from rebellious experience. When it is individuals themselves who are considered living examples of this information, those seeking total control will portray them in such a way that renders the nature of their rebellion a mere product of mental illness. For example, the Soviet Union responded to rebels with psychiatric wards called “Psikhushkas”. One of the first Psikhushkas was a psychiatric prison in the city of Kazan. In 1939 it was transferred to the secret police. Psychiatric incarceration was used in response to political demonstrations and attacks. It was common practice for soviet psychiatrists in Psikhushka hospitals to diagnose those who rebelled against soviet authority with schizophrenia.

Just as religious authority figures speak of purging people of their sins and demons, psychiatry seeks to purge people of their ‘sickness’ and ‘bad’ habits. In the church of psychiatry, only those most committed to social conformity (or emotional suppression) can enter the heavens of being socially recognized as ‘sane’ or ‘normal’. Normal or civilized behavior is rewarded with social capital and easier access to survival resources. And in the eyes of those who fear unbridled freedom, without the church of mental psychiatric authority, ‘the masses’ just might descend into madness...

****

Sept 5 2016 John George Psychiatric Hospital Riot Nurses at Alameda County’s embattled mental hospital say three patients tried to incite a riot overnight and escape the facility. Staff members are blaming chronic overcrowding at John George Psychiatric Hospital’s emergency room. It’s the latest in a string of troubling incidents at the hospital uncovered by 2 Investigates.

Nurses – who didn’t want to be identified for fear of jeopardizing their jobs – tell 2 Investigates that two male patients and one woman demanded to be discharged from John George’s Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES) department Sunday night. But when they were refused, they turned violent, according to staff.

The patients allegedly tried to encourage others to help them push the facility doors open to escape.

****

“The Law, social expectation, and psychiatric tradition and practice point to coercion as the profession’s paradigmatic characteristic. Accordingly, I define psychiatry as the theory and practice of coercion, rationalized as the diagnosis of mental illness and justified as medical treatment aimed at protecting the patient from himself and society from the patient.” - Psychiatrist turned anti-psychiatry, Thomas S Szasz, M. D.

While reflecting on my experience with psychiatry, including being on three different medications and my stay in the ward, I started asking myself questions I had never thought to ask before: what are the social conditions contributing to my feelings of misery? What type of behavior is characteristic of ‘mental illness’ and ‘normal’ functioning? Who enforces these definitions as universal truths to begin with? Is it the same psychiatric authority that at one point considered homosexuality a mental illness – then changed their minds in 1973?

I couldn’t help but notice that despite all the therapy, meds, and psychiatric hospitality the world outside my head was still the same. Poverty still dominated my hood, rich billionaires were still playin’ golf while the government continued bombing other countries. Millions of non-human animals were still bein’ mutilated in slaughterhouses on a daily basis, and the environment was still bein’ devastated by industrial expansion. I still needed to wage-slave away to pay my rent. And like everyone else, I needed to do this until I got too old and eventually live out my days in a nursing home. But somehow I was supposed to be ‘happy’ - or at least apathetically accepting of it all without a fuss. Obedience without incident. Without question. Or as the others in the ward had said to me “no problems”.

Currently in my life, I am still angry, still depressed, and still sometimes suicidal. But rather than seeing these things as what’s broken about me, I see them as a reflection of how fucked up the world is around me. I find little things to help me channel the anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I exercise, practice mixed martial arts, enjoy a walk in the woods at night. I star-gaze from park benches, rooftops, and moving freight trains. I indulge in stolen food and cherish the excitement of criminal activity. Managing my emotions is a daily activity coupled with observation and growth. I listen to the stories of others and learn from their experiences. I listen to my emotions and source their origins, making it easier to understand my needs and desires. My emotions – my madness - manifesting as anger, depression, and so on remain sharp and act as the best tools for understanding the effects of this imprisoning society on my well-being.

My disposition lacks evidence of being broken or brain damaged – if anything, it would suggest the contrary. My emotional state is a complex response to the anxiety that occurs when recognizing society for what it is – a prison propagating itself as ‘normal’ life. And integrated within this prison is a web of altered realities that materialize the logic of control and domination: Wage-slavery masquerading as productivity and personal responsibility. Coerced submission and obedience to law and order in “the land of the free”. Pictures of happy cows on packages of mutilated body parts. Borders, bio-technology, cyberspace communities of friends interacting with the emotional vacancy of digital communication.

And it is here, in this same social prison society, that the word insanity is used to describe an individual person rather than industrial civilization - the epitome of mechanized social control.

“The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon” ― Ken Kesey, from the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

I believe deep down all people are ‘insane’ - not in terms of mental illness - but in terms of individual, unique differences that remain defiantly incompatible to behavioral order. In society, some people hide these differences better than others. And many people I have come across express frustration with having to keep themselves locked up inside, aching to break out. The fear of being socially labelled insane or crazy keeps people passive and submissive. But some people experience difficulty assimilating themselves. And while society attempts to frantically control and eliminate certain undesirable people and behaviors, natural responses to environmental conditions continue to produce both.

If one were to really examine the social interactions between individuals, one can see the subtle tip-toeing of animals peeking from within the wardrobe of humanism. It is the fear of being too loud, too angry, too sad, too imaginative – the fear of allowing oneself to exist at full bloom – that incarcerates the animal individual. It is the fear of exhibiting any personal qualities or characteristics that would violate the boundaries of socially expected behavior. Breaking the laws of psychiatry could be punishable by chemical injection, imprisonment, or even death.

This fear also plays a vital role in creating an obsession with relying on institutional specialization rather than peer to peer support. This obsession is normalized when, in response to someone reaching out for emotional support, friends suggest ‘professional help’ as if to surrender themselves ineffective by default. It says something about the nature of one’s confidence, ability, and will to support another when that support is often outsourced to an elite group of ‘professionals’. I’m not tryin’ to say that every individual has the capacity to support others at all times: I am suggesting an examination of the inferiority complex internalized by people in the face of institutions, and how individuals often find themselves too busy obeying the demands of capitalism, or too distracted by consumerism to make time for supporting their loved ones – let alone themselves.

If one were to examine society as a whole, one can see how over-simplified, quick-fix solutions to complex problems is built into it. If one were to examine this even on a personal level, one can see how everything about industrial society reduces personal time to the point where one often neglects their own emotional health. Against the demands of technological addiction and wage-slavery, making time for supporting one’s self and or those they care about is, however under-rated, nothing less than an act of personal revolt. “You need professional help” is often the quick response to an individual simply looking for support from close friends. Not all people (including myself) enjoy being pathologized or assigned a diagnosis like a broken machine. It is this ‘professional help’ that replaces intimate support with capitalism where someone struggling is treated as a profitable ‘case file’ and dealt a bottle of pills.

From a vibrant friend struggling with a unique history of complex emotional experiences, to a patient branded with an over-simplistic set of psychiatric identities – the individual becomes merely a unit of diagnostic measurement.

Diagnoses act as identity configurations defined in terms of symptom-based sameness. These identity assignments are constructed by the specialists of psychiatric authority, and are enforced socially by those who uphold its power. The same way that leftists are quick to use statist terminology to publicly label and shame “undesirables” or those unwanted by The Movement (for example, using the word “terrorist” to describe proponents of anarchist attack), they are equally quick to call people ‘mentally ill’, or ‘toxic’- demanding they seek ‘professional’ help. Perhaps without realizing it, leftists socially reinforce the validity of the state and psychiatric authority by reducing the complexity of individual behavior to mere psychiatric constructs and moral condemnation.

Psychiatry provides a comforting sense of order in the refusal to accept the chaotic nature of behavior. By asserting psychiatric terminology and morality many leftists seek control over social interactions with the intent to sterilize and homogenize them. This attempt at behavioral uniformity goes hand in hand with the treatment of individuals as members of monolithic, identity-based groupings. Behavioral uniqueness and variety are often discouraged or condemned when they don’t fit neatly constructed scripts. One’s behavior or emotional expression could be trivialized by being socially called out as ‘problematic’ - a label which itself requires the conformity of a generalized consensus to define and enforce.

Society and all its defenders require the dam of psychiatry to subordinate and control the tidal waves of individualist variety and social unrest. I can only imagine what would happen if the mechanisms of control failed on an individual level - if freedom of emotional expression took aim at the crystal castles of psychiatric authority, shattering the illusion of sterilized permanence. One after another an individual cannonball weakens the continuity of the structure, an ungovernable individual compromises the strength of collectivized subservience.

****

Jan 31, 2006 Riot at the Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth Five male patients at a state-run psychiatric hospital for children face rioting charges after they ripped out a phone line and tried to steal a worker's car keys before barricading themselves in a room over the weekend, a state official and other sources said Monday.

The incident at Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth occurred less than a week after employees protested over conditions in the facility, contending that the hospital is increasingly unsafe because of the volatile mix of patients.

Sources said that between 11 p.m. and midnight Sunday, a group of boys in the hospital's 11-bed Lakota Unit came out of their rooms and started confronting and arguing with staff. A male clinician and two female employees were assigned to the unit at the time.

Sources said the boys surrounded the man and tried to get him to turn over his keys but he refused. When one of the female workers tried to use the phone to call for help, the boys pulled the phone line out of the wall, sources said. The youths then barricaded themselves in a room and tried to smash a large exterior window, which broke off its hinge.

Sources said the boys intended to escape through the window but were stopped by a Connecticut Valley Hospital police officer who was called to the scene and was outside near the window .

Authorities would not release the names or ages of the boys involved. All face charges of inciting to riot, disorderly conduct, criminal mischief, unlawful restraint and threatening.

****

When, in expressing themselves, individuals let their emotions rupture the confines of psychiatric authority, and fan the flames of their contempt for social control, psychiatry begins to resemble the shell of a burnt out police car. If psychiatry is the agent enforcer of mental law and order - let it die along with every cop and agent of the state. As with identity politics, I refuse to participate in the use of psychiatric terminology when describing other individuals. As with all other socially constructed assignments, I reject psychiatric labels as they seek to limit the horizon of emotional complexity.

When, in expressing themselves, individuals become wild with nihilist hostility toward all ideological roles and identities, what is left of a society without individual conformity? What is ‘male’ or ‘female’ without being fixed to an aesthetic or performative role? What is ‘black’ or ‘white’ without the social construction of race? What is the sane/insane binary without the commanding authority of psychiatry? What is social law and order without anyone willing to obey?

My anarchy is found in the obliteration of these social constructs and the rejection of their ‘social contract’ that universalizes their false existence. I use the phrase social contract because that is precisely what accepting these identity assignments is. It surprises me to see such little prisoner solidarity with those incarcerated at psychiatric facilities. I imagine total anarchy looking like all prisons - including every manifestation of the educational-industrial complex, every zoo, and every asylum – being burned to the ground.

****

On New Year’s Day, 2018, 10 Children as Young as Age 12 Riot and Escape from Strategic Behavioral Health Center in South Carolina During the New Year’s Day incident, patients broke furniture to make weapons. The state report suggest Strategic staff missed warning signs that patients had planned to escape. They did not question residents who were wearing multiple layers of clothing that would allow them to change what they were wearing when they left the hospital.

In a less than five-hour span beginning in the late afternoon, there were seven “Code Purple” incidents in which workers are alerted to trouble. A state investigator reviewed video showing patients going from room to room, throwing a trash can, tearing up paper and tearing schedules off the walls. When one employee arrived, according to the report, he heard loud noises and cussing and saw trash all over the floor in the hallway. Patients had barricaded themselves in a room and had weapons he described as boards with six-inch screws.

“There was no staff trying to get into the room and he was told by staff, ‘They have weapons. Don’t go in,’” records say. “The nurse described the situation as a ‘riot, complete breakdown.’”

By the time police arrived, the south Charlotte psychiatric hospital had descended into chaos. Patients at Strategic Behavioral Center — some wielding wooden boards — attacked one worker, barricaded themselves in a room and escaped through a broken window.

**** For many years I paraded psychiatry as a valuable scientific instrument for understanding the inner workings of human behavior. I no longer find it useful after learning to recognize people as complex beings with unique emotional responses to this civilized nightmare. I have come to recognize psychiatry as, at best, another form of identity politics that ultimately attempts to force the infinite complexity of emotional expression into rigid categorical boxes.

Individual people are far more than ‘bipolar’, ‘psychotic’, etc could accurately express. While a person may experience combinations of emotions socially identified by a psychiatric category, their emotional state can not be summarized or represented by any list of fixed terminology.

My refusal to define a person by the emotional struggles they experience is similar to the reasons I refuse to identity people struggling with intoxication as ‘addicts’. An individual's struggle in coping with society is complex and unique. Psychiatric labels and identities are tools of the state – an entity which I reject. As a tool of civilization, psychiatry creates alienation and violence by treating people found to be emotionally unfit for society as ‘broken’, and therefore socially inferior. I personally refuse to disregard an individual’s struggle for survival by assigning them a psychiatric identity that puts blame on them as ‘mentally ill’ - rather than focusing attention on industrial society itself. Like prisons for ‘criminals’, the ‘correctional’ facility of the psychiatric ward seeks to condition submission through coercion and confinement. Solving or curing ‘mental illness’ in the societal sense often ends up becoming a re-defined ability to condemn, suppress, or sterilize emotions.

Like all governments, presidents, and authority, psychiatry never gave me freedom. Assigned psychiatric labels didn’t help me – they only filled me with an internalized sense of victimhood and inferiority. Medication didn’t ‘cure’ or ‘fix’ me – only damaged me, numbing me to my own senses in order to create an emotional void between me and the fuckery of civilized life. So instead, with nihilist celebration I descend into madness, taking aim at social order and civilization. With armed animalism I realize now that there was nothing to fix - my natural contempt for domestication and social control reminds me that I was never ‘broken’ to begin with.

With maniacal laughter I mock the conventional standardization of human behavior. I reject the authorities of psychiatry, their holy book (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM–5)), and their prisons. I refuse to continue being a test subject for their ever-expanding pharmacotherapeutics. I am an individualist against the collectivized consensus used to materialize institutions of psychiatry. I am a nihilist - hostile to the ideological sane/insane binary and all social constructs that, with pathology, attempt to categorically subjugate individuality. I desire nothing less than a feral revolt against civilization. If civilization and psychiatry marry at the church of morality, then let my anarchy be a fiery black smoke that chokes their gospel of social control.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Soulmate

Werewolf Erik Imprints on OC.

I don’t know what to do with this but I decided to post because it’s been sitting in my google drive for about a month now and I know Halloween is in two days so if you want you can read what I have written thus far. I may or may not finish with all the other things I have to complete.

Warnings: Fluff, slight humor, mentions of smut.

Theme: Halloween, supernatural, College

It was the middle of the Fall Semester at Florida A&M. The weather wasn’t too bad, around 80 degrees during the afternoon and dropping to as low as 72 in the evening. Currently, Erik was studying for his upcoming Advanced Physics midterm. The Kappa Alpha Psi house was relatively quiet and this gave him the perfect opportunity to study before his brothers came in to disturb him. Erik took his blue highlighter, highlighting a passage before recapping it. He flipped to the next page, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses to read. As much as he loved physics and engineering his mind just wasn’t there. It was the middle of October now and his focus on knowledge wasn’t as interesting as he’d hoped for. This time of the year wasn’t always the best for him ever since he was twenty years old. That’s when his life changed. 

“Thermodynamics and heat transfer.”

He read the topic while rubbing his sleepy eyes, AirMax covered feet tapping the floor to help him stay alert. 

“Fuck, I can’t read this shit right now.” 

Erik angrily closes his book, sliding it away from him, causing his calculus materials to fall over onto his desk. He leans back in his reclining desk chair, eyes to the swirling ceiling fan within his room. It wasn’t like he didn’t get the information, he knew it like the back of his hand. He just needed a distraction from her. 

People on campus called her Poison Ivy; she was a lot to handle and Erik hadn’t noticed that until yesterday when something that he didn’t expect to happen, happened.

Ivy Crow. She was a journalism major. Ivy wrote for the school news column and she was also an activist on campus. Sometimes her protests didn’t go so well and other times her podcasts could piss people off but that’s who she was. You couldn’t miss her on campus with her goth aesthetic and camcorder in hand. Ivy was now Erik’s weakness. He needed to talk to someone about this, and the only person he could think of was his friend Trevor. Erik rises from his seat, grabbing his cross-body bag, shooting Trevor a quick text before exiting his bedroom.

He instructed for Trevor to meet him at the library in the ancient literature section since no one went there anyway. Erik made it there before Trevor, looking about him with sharp eyes to be sure that no one was around. He paced, impatient and antsy. He hadn’t seen Ivy all day. His body couldn’t stand it. This overpowering desire for her made him hungry as well. If he was hungry for regular food now he was afraid of what he would be hungry for at midnight…

“Erik? What’s going on I had to skip out of class.”

Trevor was a programming major, tall, skin like midnight, one eye blue and the other brown. Girls swooned over him. 

“My bad man, I got a problem.” 

Trevor grabs Erik by the shoulder, pulling him further into the aisle of books. It was dustier back against the window.

Trevor lowers his voice, “Is it a Lycanthrope thing?”

Erik hated when Trevor refers to it as that. He kisses his teeth, letting out a sigh of frustration.

“Why can’t you just say Werewolf?!” Erik argues.

“Whatever, is this what I’m here for?”

“Yeah.” 

“Did you shift and get lost somewhere you weren’t supposed to be? Remember I saved your ass from nearly dying when you landed in a trap with silver near fucking New Orleans.”

Erik could still feel the scars from that on his back. If it wasn’t for Trevor, Erik would probably be dead. His back was scarred badly from that, deep gashes diagonally across his back.

“No, I haven’t shifted in two days.”

“Two days? Why?” 

Erik looks down at his sneakers, “Some weird shit happened to me…”

Trevor waited for Erik to speak. He figured Trevor would know more since he’d been a werewolf since birth. It was a family curse.

“So, I was on my way to my calculus class when a rally was going on. You know, that rally about making sure ‘blackface’ doesn’t happen for Halloween this year.”

Two Days Ago: 

“Catch you later, bro. You know we got that party before the hazing process.”

Erik shoulders his backpack, flashing his sexy dimples, “Y’all niggas partying before the hazing? That’s some new shit.”

His fellow Kappa brother shrugs before wrapping his arm around a random chicks shoulder, “Gotta warm them, boys, up first before the fun begins.”

He shared the Kappa hand sign with his brothers before walking away towards his class. He already missed a few for his own selfish reasons so he couldn’t afford to miss another. As Erik walked he noticed a large group of students- mostly black students crowd around a gothic chick and her protest friends, holding up signs reading “BAND BLACKFACE” Erik never really invested his time into these protests because he felt like they wouldn’t change anything but the sound of her loud voice brought his eyes to her.

And that’s what did it.

He felt as if he was gravitationally pulled towards her while glowing heat filled his veins. The class suddenly became secondary. On second thought, everything became secondary to him at that moment. He couldn’t explain it but the overpowering feeling made him want to stand there and watch her. Erik had a deep need and desire to support this girl and even protect her if someone went against what she had to say. His knees buckled, Erik stumbling a little and catching strange looks from some of the students. A few white students at Florida A&M looked frustrated with her words and that made Erik’s inner wolf growl. His eyes even turned golden without his control. He blinked, afraid that someone would notice.

“NO BLACK FACE FOR HALLOWEEN!!! It’s just as disrespectful as dressing up as an Indian!”

“She needs to shut up. She’s such a freak.”

Erik caught that and the person was on the other side of the crowd. He growls, his mind confused but his actions uncontrollable.

“She just needs some dick. She’s embarrassing us, black girls. I mean, none of these white people care about that. They wouldn’t even be dumb enough to try that.”

He felt deep disgust and rage from those words. He didn’t even know the girl and he hated the way those girls talked about her. He decided to look at her again, just focus on her to make him feel better. She talked with a sense of power, her movements confident and no care in the world that people saw her being a goth or that they thought she was a “freak of nature.” 

Without being able to explain it himself, Erik walked through the crowd and towards her direction, standing at her feet while she stood on the top steps in front of the main student services building. Erik looked at her like she was a goddess. Before he could stop himself, he climbed those stairs, taking his place next to her, clapping his hands loudly and cheering her on. 

Ivy pauses mid-speech with the megaphone pressed to her lips, eyeing Erik bizarrely. 

“Aye! Don’t tell her to calm down she preaching the truth right now!” Erik yells down at a group of snickering students who clearly still lived like they were high schoolers. They had a long way to go.

“If you are not angry, you are not paying attention!” At this point, he was yelling out anything to support Ivy. What he thought he was doing the right way he was only pissing her off. Erik didn’t know a thing about Ivy and how she hated when people disrupted her protests, especially when it was a guy who didn’t even know she existed. 

Erik snatches a sign from one of Ivy’s friends, holding it up proudly. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ivy finally speaks, not realizing the megaphone was still pressed to her mouth.

Erik lowers the sign, flashing a charming smile at her. He looked her over with an impressive eye before putting his hand out for her to shake.

“I’m Erik.”

Ivy looks from his hand to his face, “Ivy.” 

Erik awkwardly lowers his hand, “You’re a fucking badass, Ivy.” 

She blinks with sass, “really?” 

She didn’t by that. This entire situation was strange. 

“Yeah…”Erik felt that same heat in his blood. This girl, Ivy, was driving him crazy.

“Fuck these people, you can tell me about it I’ll listen.” 

She laughs, pretty smile with lips colored blood red. The spiked choker around her neck along with the spikes in her ears made her look dangerous. Little did she know, Erik was even more dangerous.

“The less I care, the happier I am.” 

She looked down at the steps, a frappe tossed at her feet with the liquid staining her platform doc martens. Erik looked down as well, eyebrows creasing with anger.

“It’s okay, Erik. I look at people sometimes and think...really? That’s the sperm that won.” Ivy simply shakes her head, lowering her megaphone. The crowd began to scatter and Ivy turns away from Erik, talking to her friends and instructing them to pack up and meet her for podcast talk.

Erik was compelled to help as well, grabbing posters and stacking them neatly. Not only did Ivy give him a strange look but her friends did as well. 

“Are you feeling well, frat boy?” She placed the back of her hand to his forehead, Erik almost losing his control if it wasn’t for his impressive already controlled nature. He was a beast of the night, he had to keep it together. 

“Maybe we should reintroduce ourselves,” she held out her hand covered in silver rings. Luckily, Erik was in his human form. 

“I’m Ivy Crow, I run on caffeine, sarcasm, and inappropriate thoughts.”

Erik smiles, shaking her hand and enjoying the warmth. Since when did a chick make him delirious?

“I’m Erik Stevens. Kappa, science wiz, irresistibly handsome.” 

“That you are,” Ivy had eyes she could see Erik was clearly a looker.

“So you like what you see then?”

Ivy shrugs, looking away, “Don’t get your hopes up, Erik.”

“Why? I mean, a girl like you can use a guy like me in your life.” 

Ivy raises a single brow, “I see, you’re one of those niggas who think by flashing a smile and flirting with me you’ll get some pussy?”

“Nah, I mean…” 

“No need. I know what this is about,” Ivy turns away with a pained expression, grabbing her bag to leave. Erik was bothered by that rejection, following her down the steps.

“Aye? What the hell did I do?”

Ivy turns to him, a glare on her face, “My middle finger salutes you right now.”

Erik felt like his world was crashing down around him. Ivy being upset with him couldn’t happen. 

“Why are you mad right now? We were starting off cool.”

“I may not be the girl that everyone wants but at least I’m not the girl that everyone’s had.”

Erik understood then. She thought that he was implying that she needed him in her life to feel accepted because of who she was. 

“Look,” Erik lets out a calming breath, “can we start over? I’m not the type of guy you think I am. I’m not tryna get to know you for the wrong reasons, Ivy.” 

Ivy looked distant for a second until her shoulders relaxed. She folded her arms across her chest, eyeing Erik cautiously.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy pinches the bridge of her nose, “I just have a history of fuck-ups with guys.”

Ivy starts walking, motioning for Erik to follow along. He does, the pain in his chest subsiding.

“It’s just...you come out of fucking nowhere and you help me at my rally? It’s so fucking confusing.”

Erik was still confused. 

“I’m confused too believe it or not.” 

He needed to figure out what was going on, maybe it’s a werewolf thing. It is getting closer and closer to Halloween. Maybe he’s just having a strong sexual craving and he could see that in Ivy as well. It could be that Erik needed to fuck Ivy before a shift to sedate him. 

“I don’t know you well, Erik, and I’m not good with people.” 

Erik wasn’t either, he preferred to be a loner.

“I guess that makes two of us, Ivy Crow.”

“Ew, people,” Ivy cringes, causing Erik to laugh.

“Uh, is it cool if I have your number?”

Erik needed to communicate with her when she wasn’t around. In under twenty minutes he felt like he needed to hear from her. 

“Sure, frat boy, I feel like you’ve earned it.”

Ivy pulls out her cell, followed by Erik, both of them exchanging numbers. 

“Cool. I can hit you up later, right?”

Ivy simply shrugs, “that’s if my fingers aren’t preoccupied, frat boy.” 

That sexual innuendo made the burning desire within him growl. His inner wolf wanted badly to spring free. What was it about this girl that had him weak in the knees and ten times more aware? Her scent was unique, very sweet smelling like berries. It made his mouth water. 

“Listen, I'd love to chat but I have a podcast later that will more than likely stir shit up on campus.” 

Ivy backs away, Erik’s eyes scanning from her white crop top with the word “Salem” down to her tight black jeans that hugged her generous curves down to her Doc Martens. 

“I’ll make sure to tune in, Baby girl, what time?”

Ivy looks at him strangely, “1:00”

Erik gives her a farewell smile, never turning to leave as he watched her disappear. He stood there until her smell was gone, a heavyweight lifted from him only to be filled with emptiness. He missed her a lot for some reason. 

That night in bed, Erik was in a cold sweat, growling like his other half and tossing. What was happening to him? He needed answers and quick. The next couple of days were going to be challenging.

Present:

“You’ve imprinted on Ivy Crow.”

Trevor didn’t hold back information. He laid it out for Erik.

“Imprinted? I thought that shit only happened in Twilight.” 

Trevor gave Erik an annoyed look, “You’ve been a Werewolf for about seven years and you don’t know what imprinting is?”

Erik shrugs, “that’s what I have you for Trevor. You’re my Werewolf brother and my teacher.” 

“Erik,” Trevor gave Erik a pointed look, “This is some serious shit, bro. You have to know everything about your Lycanthrope self or the enemies out there will hold that against you. You don’t want the enemies to know more about you than you, correct?”

Trevor did have a point, and Erik knew that. He was still trying to get over the fact that he was turned into a Lycan/ Werewolf when he was twenty years of age. 

“Aight, I’ll take it more seriously. All that other shit like silver, Mercury, angel blades to the heart…”

Erik lets out a deep sigh, “I already know about that shit.”

“Well, do you know about our origin? Why New Orleans is generally not safe for our kind? How there are vampire and witch covens there and we all equally hate each other? How imprinting can be a good and bad thing?”

Erik didn’t know everything, and it pissed him off that Trevor rubbed that shit in his face.

“You want your ass beat now or later?”

Trevor laughs, “nigga, you keep forgetting I’m stronger than you?” 

Erik bumps shoulder with him as he walks past, finally done with this conversation.

“We can meet up later tonight to discuss this imprinting situation. For the time being, try not to hound the girl, Erik. You don’t want to scare her away when you’re bound to her.”

That word, bound, wasn’t something he was prepared for. He was already bound to being a werewolf for the rest of his life. What if Ivy despises him to the point where she doesn’t want anything to do with him? What if she falls in love with someone else? All of those things scared him. 

Ivy’s POV: 

“What are you going to be for Halloween this year, Ivy?”

Ivy slips into a pair of dark turquoise high waist jeans, turning sideways to admire her outfit as a whole. She had on a black corset top with a layered silver necklace around her neck with multiple crosses on it. Her head was covered in a wig that would remind you of Uma Thurman’s hair in Pulp fiction, lips painted a glittery black and eyes Smokey. 

“Probably something DIY, maybe a corpse bride.”

Her friend, Treasure; the complete opposite of her, sat on her bed, painting her toes white. She dressed like Cher from Clueless, long curly hair in two space buns. She was ginger with freckles on her face. 

“I’m gonna be a Powerpuff Girl.” 

Ivy chuckles, “Which one?”

“Bubbles.”

“I knew it.”

Ivy grabs her coffin-shaped crossbody bag along with her Creative Writing books before her phone goes off for the fifth time. She knew exactly who it was, he was getting on her last nerve.

Erik: Why aren’t you answering my texts, beautiful?

She locks her phone, putting it away.

“Ready?” 

Treasure gives her a strange look. 

“What’s up with you?” 

Ivy shakes her head, “Just trying to prepare myself for yet another day of biting my tongue whenever Miss Petty Ass Bitch decides to piss me off. It’s not my fault I know more about your own class than you do. They just hire anyone these days.”

“You know she just does that Ivy because of your reputation around here,” Treasure reminds her, “Everyone is intimidated. Remember, they call you Poison Ivy.”

Ivy’s face lit up, a pretty smile on her glittery black lips.

“You know what, I just might have my Halloween costume in mind.” 

Erik’s POV

He waited outside of Creative Writing.

How did he find out about her class? He practically threatened one of her guy friends and supposedly her fellow band member to give him the information. The second he did that, Erik did a late enrollment for the course. Luckily, it could look good for his master's degree. Looking from one end of the hall to the other, his nostrils flared, her smell growing closer and closer. He closed his eyes, the veins in his neck protruding from holding on control. His backpack went down to cover his crotch, dick hard for the first time in two days. The more she drew closer the more his heartbeat increased and his skin reddened from heat. 

“Erik?” Ivy spoke with agitation.

His eyes snapped open from her sing-song voice, “Wassup, Baby girl?”

“It’s Ivy.” 

“Well, I like calling you Baby girl,” he teases, earning a strange look from her.

“Stop calling me that or I will pour all of this hot ass coffee down your pants.” 

He snapped his mouth shut, choosing to simply admire her. She tried looking at her phone but the scorching hot gaze he gave her made her look at him with annoyance.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Erik smirks at her, walking over to be face to face with his gothic princess.

“What you wanna know?” He shoulders his bag, giving her his sexiest stare but it clearly didn’t change anything.

“Why do you insist on texting me ten times a fucking day?”

“Why do you insist on ignoring me? Forreal, you got a whole ass attitude, Miss Ivy. A nigga tryna get to know you and you ignoring me? Ima tell you this now, I don’t like being ignored.”

“I do a thing called what I want.” She reminded him. 

“You don’t like a nigga to be all sweet with you, huh?” 

Ivy picks at her nails, “I’m not built for a soft ass needy man, I talk back and I do not listen.” 

Erik’s dark eyes burned into hers. She didn’t fight it, looking at him with an equal amount of strength.

“I don’t like your type. You walk around here like you own the place and then you think you can have any girl you want? I’m not just any girl.” 

Ivy picks a piece of imaginary cotton from Erik’s letterman jacket.

“You are a mean girl,” he smiles down at her, “Don't get your hopes up though I’m not going anywhere. I like em fiery, you like em dominant. That’s cool, I’m that.” 

“I’m not mean, just brutally honest. It’s not my fault truth hurts. Want a bandaid?”

“As long as it’s from you I’ll take all that shit, Baby girl.” 

Ivy regrets giving him her number. She didn’t actually think he would try anything with her since she definitely wasn’t going to open her legs for him. 

“Ivy? Did you hear me?” 

She wasn’t paying him any mind, the class was filling up and she needed to take her seat.

“There is no need to repeat yourself, I ignored you just fine the first time.” 

He stood rooted to the spot, watching her disappear into that classroom. Her words literally slapped him. This is what he feared honestly. Erik couldn’t wait to meet up with Trevor so he could figure out how to work around this imprinting thing. Ivy was a lot to handle. Erik wasn’t going to back down by any means but damn, he didn’t expect a real challenge. 

Erik finally walks into the class, finding a seat just behind Ivy a row above hers. She had all her things neatly stacked in front of her, eyes focused ahead. Erik whispered “excuse me” to a girl on his right as he took his seat. He decided to just bring his Macbook instead of things to write with. This was an easy course for him, he’d already taken a similar one during his undergraduate education.

“Good morning, Everyone,” a woman who looked to be in her late thirties spoke, fuchsia and purple polka-dotted blouse with a black pencil skirt. Her thin blonde hair was pulled into a tight French roll, old stocking with tears in them and a pair of heels that looked like something his grandmother would wear. God rest her soul.

“Can I help you, sir?” She yells to the back row. Erik knew she was referring to him.

“I’m a late enrollee.” His husky voice caught the eyes of nearly all the women in that room except for Ivy who chewed on the end of her pen.

“Name?” She asked with an authoritative tone.

“Erik Stevens.” 

“I’m Professor Pettee, Why creative writing so late in the semester?”

Erik strokes his goatee, “Miss Ivy here gave me some inspiration since she’s a Journalism major and all.”

He could hear her clicking and unclicking her pen angrily. 

“Ivy Crow?” She looked at Ivy with a sarcastic smirk, “she’s your inspiration? Well,” Miss Pettee turns on her heel,  “She’s inspirational alright.” 

Tiny snickers scattered the class.

“What is this fucking high school?!” Erik blurts out with rage. Ivy turns to him then with wide eyes. 

“Excuse me?” Miss Pettee hadn’t expected that. 

“I’m referring to the snickering. What y’all fifth graders or some shit?” 

The entire lecture hall was silent, all eyes on Erik.

“What a ruckus,” Miss Pettee laughs nervously, “Are you finished, Mr. Stevens? I do have a class to teach.”

Erik sat back in his chair, motioning for her to continue. As soon as Miss Pettee’s back turned, Erik noticed Ivy staring up at him with a smoldering rage. The smile on his face turned into a blank expression. He was really getting under her skin. 

“Fuck You.” She mouthed to him before turning back in her seat to pay attention. This was going to be interesting. 

[fernwehbookworm]

Haunted- Chapter 5

This is where Alex finds them, well she finds Kara. Alex uses her spare key to unlock the door and bursts in to find Kara sitting at the table with a soft smile on her lips. Kara looks like she is about to laugh when she registers Alex’s presence at the door.

“Alex!” Kara shoots to her feet as if she has just been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Kara! What are you doing? Kelly called me. She said you ran off!”

“I… Nothing. Just trying to finish this article. I think I got it now.”

“And you came to your apartment that is compromised in some sort of way?”

“Yeah, about that. Look it’s nothing. Just… A friend pulling a prank. It’s all taken care of.”

Alex watches closely, she knows her sister is lying. Kara was never good at lying. Kara also keeps turning her head a bit to the side, as if she was hearing someone calling her name but she was refusing to turn her head to acknowledge them.

“Just a prank, huh?”

“Y-yup. Everything is fine. Completely normal.”

“Really? Then why did Kelly call me, worried, because you had run off yelling something about Lena being there and you not being crazy.” Alex makes her way closer to Kara, shutting the door behind herself.

“I was just disorientated from the glitch in the program. As soon as I cleared my head I was fine. Then I had an inspiration for my article and decided to write. It’s done now. I just have to submit it.” Kara sits back behind her computer and picks up her pen, playing with it between her fingers. Fidgeting, a classic sign.

“Well, that’s great!” Alex says, “Then we can have a movie night tonight. I’ll tell Kelly to come and we can get takeout.”

“No!” Kara shouts then immediately regrets it when Alex raises an eyebrow. “I mean, no, it's fine. I need to catch up on sleep and I’m sure you and Kelly have to work early.”

“We have hardly spent any time together. It will be fun.” Alex pulls out her phone and is already dialing Kara’s favorite Chinese place.

“Seriously Alex—” Kara is cut off by her sister ordering some of her favorite foods.

“We can’t talk about everything you need to know if your sister is here,” Lena says in Kara’s ear.

“I know.” Kara says under her breath, trying to move her lips as little as possible. “But I don’t have much choice right now.”

“Just keep the pen close. It’s helping me focus on staying together.”

Kara nods just barely then pockets the pen to keep it in reach. While Alex finishes the order, Kara submits her final draft and hopes that Snapper will like it. Then she logs off and powers down her computer to face an evening of trying to act normal around her sister.

“Okay, food will be here in an hour, so will Kelly. What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. You can pick.” Kara Grabs drinks from the fridge for the two of them and joins Alex, who has already settled on the couch and is scrolling through the menu. Kara settles next to Alex and feels Lena settle next to her also, as much as Lena can settle.

Kelly arrives and Alex let’s her in. Kara can hear hissed words as they work through an argument before returning. Kelly has her own plate of leftovers and Kara watches Lena eye the food longingly. At some point, Kara fell asleep, she was still semi-conscious of her sister and Kelly talking softly and laughing at the movie. At some point, a blanket is draped over Kara and the television turns off. Soft sounds of Alex and Kelly cleaning up pull at Kara’s consciousness.

“I’m worried, Alex. The reading I had from the program is troubling. I really think something is wrong. I… I think she may need more help. This could be stress-induced.”

Kara stiffens and is alert almost instantly. She can see Lena looking into the kitchen area intently, the pen was still clutched in Kara’s hand.

“I know. She’s lying to me and I don’t know why.”

“I've seen it a couple of times before. Patients lie because they know what is happening isn’t normal. Seeing things, hearing voices, or maybe paranoia. It’s not a good sign.”

“What do we do?”

“Maybe if we can get her to my office again then I can get a colleague of mine to evaluate her for… more extreme care.”

“Like what? Getting her committed?” Alex hisses at her girlfriend.

“If it's necessary. Alex, you know I love her like my own sister. I am terrified of what might happen if she doesn’t get the help that she needs. She could be suffering a mental break. We can’t ignore that.”

The silence is tense. Kara stares at Lena as Lena looks back with fear. This could ruin everything. Lena would never make it back to the physical world. Kara could not get trapped in a facility because she is not crazy. An audible sigh comes from Alex.

“Yeah, okay. We can get her there tomorrow. Come on, once she’s out from a movie she won’t wake up. We can take her bed, it's too late to go home.”

Sounds fade to the bedroom but Kara stays unmoving on the couch. Kara weighs her options before sitting up slowly. Lena sits next to Kara and Kara feels the cold presence of Lena’s hand on her’s.

“We have to go. Now. It’s getting harder to hold myself together. We can’t wait until the weekend. And if your sister somehow commits you against your will, then I might as well be dead.”

The lamp clicks off in the bedroom and Kara remains silent for several more minutes. Then she stands as quietly as possible and grabs her shoes by the couch. She pads to the door in her stocking feet and eases the lock open as quietly as possible. With a small squeak, the door opens and closes and Kara puts on her shoes in the hall.

“Okay, time to go,” Kara says half to herself and half to Lena.

It’s late, almost 3 am, and the world is quiet. As quiet as a city can be. The walk to L-corp is nerve-wracking, every little sound had Kara looking over her shoulder. Street lights glow yellow and it throws the world into a surreal alternate reality as Kara makes her way between the light and shadows. When Kara approaches the looming shadow of the L-corp building, Lena directs Kara towards an underground garage where Lena’s own personal entrance will be.

“It has a handprint scan, how is that supposed to work?” Kara asks when she approaches the shiny plate next to the door.

“There is an override code. Just don’t mess it up. There are no retries before security is alerted. Ready?”

Kara swallows hard and nods.

“Okay. It’s long. 31415926535897932384” Lena says the numbers just slow enough for Kara to input each one of them. When the last number is imputed, the light turns green and the door slides open for Kara to step through. She makes her way down the short hallway towards the elevator doors.

“How in the world do you have that number memorized?” Kara asks in amazement.

Lena gives her a surprised look. “It's the first twenty digits of pi.”

“You have the first twenty digits of pi memorized?” Kara asks with disbelief.

“I have the first 100 digits memorized,” Lena says smugly.

“Wow, your brain is so attractive,” Kara says.

Lena blushes. “That is not normally a compliment I get about attractiveness.”

“Well, it should be. Okay, next code?”

“8822672”

The elevator dings open almost immediately and Kara steps in. “Floor 33” Lena reminds Kara of the lab floor.

“What does that code mean then?” Kara asks as the elevator ascends.

“Radium. The element that Madam Curie helped discover. It’s the atomic number, weight, period number, and group.”

“So really are a geek under all that genius.” Kara smiles at Lena.

“You really have no idea. Are you sure you still want to have dinner with me?” Lena smiles back.

“More than ever,” Kara says seriously. The door dings open on an empty hallway.

They continue like that through four more doors until Kara and Lena are standing in the still broken lab. The papers and glass on the floor had been cleaned up, but the window was still cracked and the work stations were disrupted. Lena quickly makes her way towards the machine, passing right through a table turned on its side.

“Shit, they took my laptop. It’s probably up in the CEO’s office, knowing Jess. There is another elevator directly up at the other side of the room. Come on.” Lena is on a mission now. Moving quickly, Kara follows. Worry knaws at Kara as she notices Lena not looking as solid as she had before. Lena is running out of time.

“12101815, it’s the birth date of Ada Lovelace. She was considered the first computer programmer, before computers were invented.” Lena tells Kara, unprompted, as Kara inputs the code into the elevator.

“Wait, before computers were invented? How?” Kara asks while getting in the elevator.

“She made an algorithm for Charles Babbage’s proposed analytical engine. Way ahead of their times and current technology.”

“Wow. Like how do you even think like that? It’s like trying to describe a color that no one else can see.”

“It is. But that’s how we advance in technology. People pushing the boundaries of imagination.”

The elevator doors ding softly open. Kara steps into Lena’s large and spacious office. It’s dark, the only lights far below in the streets of the city. The buildings out the massive windows are mostly dark. Soft white carpet pads Kara’s footfalls. The moonlight reflects off the white surfaces that fill the office. A large desk with an even larger chair sits in front of the windows.

“Quick, we need to turn off the alarm. There, by the door. 10241993”

“What’s that number?” Kara asks as she quickly steps towards the control panel. The digital screen counting down to the alarm going off.

“It’s actually, well, my birthday.” Lena lets out a small, uncertain laugh, “I know you are not supposed to do that, but really, if people get this far I don’t know if the last password will stop them.”

“It’s good to know you are human enough to use your own birthday.” Kara smiles over her shoulder at her phantom before inputting the code.

A loud buzz sounds and the screen flashes red as the code is denied. The timer hits zero. Nothing happens in the office. “Shit.” Lena has behind Kara, “Jess must have changed this passcode. Quick, find the laptop. Security has been alerted and we have about three minutes. It’s probably in the wall safe. 08241995. Jess’s birthday. I doubt she would have changed that.”

Kara does as she is told and it works. The paper light laptop is there and Kara grabs it, bolting for the elevator. Once inside it starts to descend, then it jets to a halt.

“You have been detained. Security is on its way. Do not resist.” comes a deep voice through the speaker.

“Override it with that keypad. 06262015” Lena shouts.

“Legalized marriage?” Kara asks as she inputs it.

“Yes, but I can’t explain them all to you.”

Kara sees stress etched into Lena’s face and it seems to be making it harder for Lena to stay present. She flickers in and out of focus. Her voice sounds muffled and far away. Kara watches her until the door opens and rushes to turn on the lights and set up the laptop and inputs another code that Lena gives her.

It’s a frantic rush of connecting cables and turning dials. Kara’s hands are shaking from nervousness. The computer seems to take forever to call up the program that Lena had been using to run the machine. Kara can hear shouting out in the hall. Quickly she begins to push overturned work tables to the door, even pilling chairs on top of them, anything to keep the security out. Kara Rushed back to Lena to start setting dials on the machine to where they should be.

“Good, That should do it. Now just hit ‘run’ on the program. It will take a mi—” Lena’s voice was getting softer and softer and then suddenly Kara can’t hear her anymore. Kara could see through Lena now. Time was running out.

In the silence, a phone rings. Kara jumps and stares at the phone mounted to the wall. It rings into the stillness and Kara finds herself walking towards it to answer.

“Kara! Kara! What are you doing? How are you doing this?” Somehow, it’s Alex. Alex is calling Kara on the L-corp lab phone. Which means, Alex is in the building. There is a loud thumping at the lab door and angry shouts.

“I have to do this, Alex. I have to save her. I knew I wasn’t crazy. How are you here?”

“They called the FBI and my director called me! What are you talking about? Kara? How did you get so far past security?”

“Lena. She's helping me to bring her back. Now, I have to finish this.”

“Do not turn that machine on! It will kill you too!”

“It won’t. It will bring her back.”

“ No it won’t! Kar—”

Kara hangs up the phone on her sister.

“Kara.” It's a whisper now, Lena’s voice. Barely louder than a breath.

It moves Kara forward. Lena is almost gone and only Kara can save her. Kara starts the program and waits. It’s just like her dream. The machine starts up, light begins to build until it is so bright that Kara has to turn away.  The noise becomes deafening. Then, with the shattering of the window, silence falls. Kara thinks she might have blacked out for a moment because she is on the floor. The lights are out again which means there was probably another power outage. When Kara sits up, she sees Lena. For real. Slumped over in front of the machine, the dark head begins to move and sit up. A pale hand presses against a temple and Lena groans.

“Lena!” Kara cries and scrambles to the scientist's side.

“Kara?” Lena responds horseley.

“I’m here,” Kara reaches out and places a hand on Lena’s arm. It’s solid and warm. Kara smiles. “And you are here too.”

“I’m… here. Really here?” Lena is still processing.

“Yes.”

Loud bangs resound from the door to the room. It happens again as Kara helps Lena to her feet. With a loud groan and the splintering of wood, the door is broken down and big burly men rush into the room and pause as they find Kara with Lena’s arm thrown over her shoulder.

“Kara!” Alex cries as she rushes in after the men, Kelly right on her heels, followed by Jess.

Jess gasps as she takes in the sight of her employer and friend. “Lena!” Jess bursts into tears as she pushes a man aside to get to the CEO.

“Hey Jess,” Lena says softly, and is nearly knocked off her feet as Jess wraps her in a tight embrace. Kara steps away to let them have a moment. Jess is crying into Lena’s shoulder and Kara thinks Lena might be too but she can't tell as she is squeezed into her own hug with her sister.

“Don’t you ever do something that stupid again!” Alex practically yells in Kara’s ear. Kara feels another pair of arms as Kelly joins them.

“Sorry, but I am not planning on being haunted by a scientist again.”

“So you weren't going crazy?” Alex asks

“No, but I don’t blame you for thinking that.”

“But how…”

“It’s a long story that I don’t really understand myself.” Kara cuts off her sister's question.

There is shuffling on the far side of the room as security seems uncertain what to do. They were coming in to detain a criminal but now that criminal has somehow brought their employer back from the dead and there were now a lot of tears. A throat clears and Lena seems to pull herself together instantly.

“You may all return to your posts. I will fill out a report and submit it to the chief of security. As you can see, there is no break in here. Just the CEO accessing the office after hours with her friend.”

There are some protests and grumbling but a look from Lena silences the men and they file out of the room, one by one. Finally the women are alone and everyone looks to Lena.

“How is this possible?” Jess asks Lena.

“I don’t know everything, but something happened when I started up the machine and the field of transportation was expanded and I was affected as well. Then I was stuck in this between state and somehow anchored to the pen that Kara here stole,” Lena pauses to raise a pointed eyebrow at Kara, “I could communicate with her, then, and she was able to come here and reset the machine to bring me back to this plane of existence. But it took a bit to figure all that out and Kara here thought she was being haunted.”

“Well, wouldn’t you when someone writes ‘Help Me’ on your bathroom mirror and creepily starts music playing and knocks things over?” Kara defends herself.

“Of course you did that.” Jess rolls her eyes at her friend's antics.

“When there are a few times you can solidly touch things, you have to take advantage.”

“But, my program?” Kelly asks.

“That I can’t really explain, except it put Kara’s mind into a more open state so it was easier to contact her. I think it just appeared as a glitch in the system. Look, this is all science that is even beyond me and I’m going to have to study it. I don’t have answers right now except that I don’t think it was an accident. The settings I had Kara replicate weren’t the ones I originally set.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Kara says softly, yet surely.

All four women’s heads turn to her. “How do you know?” Lena asks.

“A dream. I was watching you. You were setting up your test. While your back was turned and the experiment was running, I saw a shadow come in through the door. I couldn’t make much out, but then I saw a hand turn that dial,” Kara points towards the black knob, “then everything went to shit and the light got so bright I couldn’t see and woke up.”

Lena nods slowly, “That’s the one that was off. But I used the program to replicate the last settings.”

“Who could have known you were here and running tests?” Jess asks.

“I don’t know. I had even told you I had gone home.”

“I know.” Jess deadpans. “And I will never believe that lie again.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “And after I told you that, I… canceled my flight to meet with... shit…”

“Meet with who?” Kara asks.

“Max Lord.” Jess finishes.

“He knew the premise of the project because he tried to beat me to copyrights. I won, though. We were meeting about another project but when I canceled he must have figured I was close to a breakthrough. That would be bad for him.”

“How so?” Kara asks.

“Because he runs very shady import and export businesses in third world countries and this machine would bypass a lot of that. It would allow me to send medicine and food directly to those in need.”

“Cutting down on his profits,” Alex says, deep in thought.

“Exactly.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” the FBI agent asks.

“Oh, yes. I have been compiling it for a while. It's not airtight, but it may be enough for an arrest.”

“Perfect. Let me make some calls.” Alex grins.

[needthread2]

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To make it worth taking SARMS, it is needed incorporate its use with your very own training and also nourishment as you can not expect to construct muscular tissue without placing in the job; this item just aids the job you do in the fitness center as well as in other places. We have actually included "Selective Androgen Receptor Modulators" and SARM-like items into this group.

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At UK SARMs we focus on marketing the purest SARMs study chemicals for expert study. By purchasing from this site you accept use any kind of items supplied exclusively for usage in vitro study only. We offer FREE distribution throughout the UK and also delivering to globally destinations. All our top quality SARMs undergo high pressure fluid chromatography as well as nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy lab tests, with laboratory records available for all our products to provide you the peace of mind you deserve. We supply excellent quality SARMs developed utilizing the best active ingredients in our laboratory in the UK.

Ligand Chem is a laboratory supply company established by scientists based in the UK. We supply our products for pharmaceutical and clinical research objectives to countries around the world.

Can peptides be absorbed through skin?

Specifically, peptides incorporated into skincare products mimic the same peptides that you'd find when collagen is broken down. Thus, if large peptides are used in topical anti-aging products, it's possible for them to be broken down into smaller peptides, allowing them to be absorbed into the skin and become active.

We have actually made a team where sarms customers can share their progress, experiences and also to speak with each various other regarding their cycles and development. Cardarine is a pharmaceutical grade PPAR agonist which has some extremely helpful results for professional athletes. Your healing time will be significantly decreased which means you can increase the strength as well as duration of your exercises. CS is the pace-making enzyme of the citric acid cycle that is thought about as the main metabolic pathway under cardiovascular conditions. It is a pen for the mitochondrial web content as well as the oxidative capability of muscles and also is boosted by workout training (60-- 62). LDH catalyzes the conversion of lactate to pyruvate as well as back through the oxidation procedure (NAD+ ⇄ NADH).

Where To Purchase Sarms Online?

" On paper it's nine months, however they've been excellent to me really. They stated that although their providing me 9 months, the company as well as its site had actually been warning, and I ought to have googled the items. I just bought a bog-standard BCAA as well as I did examine the ingredients. " I recognize there were six UFC fighters who checked positive for ostarine in 2015, and each and every single one stated their virtue", claims Wallhead. If you know you are going to obtain drug checked 24/7, surely if you were going to cheat, you wouldn't choose ostarine.

A dramatically greater intramuscular fat content of the quadriceps femoris muscle mass was observed in the OVX+LG 4 team compared to the Non-OVX group. In OVX rats, the fat material of the muscle mass did not differ from that in the other groups. All four OVX groups revealed a considerably higher GM weight than in the Non-OVX group. Treatment with a high dosage of LG resulted in a considerably greater GM weight than in the OVX and also OVX+LG 0.04 groups.

We offer prominent products such as LGD-4033, RAD-140, SR9009, MK-2866, RU58841 and a lot more SARMs in liquid kind at very affordable prices. At Ligand Chem we provide the best items for the most affordable feasible price to the research study neighborhood. Belgium bpc157 how does it work know our clients demand pureness and safety and security most importantly else, which's what we attain with whatever we offer. At Ligand Chem we just make use of the finest components to offer you a seriously exceptional SARM to fulfill all your study needs. Buy SARMs from a dependable research study product distributor in the understanding that they come from a resource that you can trust. Dietary supplements consisting of Ostarine usually claim to advertise muscle building. Ostarine is a Careful Androgen Receptor Modulator which is a medication created to have comparable effects to testosterone.

The treatments with OS led to a considerably greater weight of the GM than in the Non-OVX, irrespective of does applied. The BW of the rats throughout all therapy groups was similar at the beginning of the research (244 ± 7.8 g). Ovariectomy led to a significant enhancement of BW in all 4 OVX teams compared to the Non-OVX group from week 2 message ovariectomy. OS and LG are still being investigated in medical trials, and also neither have actually been accepted as therapies to this factor.

UKAD provided no aid to Webster, despite the fact that its very own expert suggested that contamination may have been an issue. https://peptides-uk.com/bpc157/spain/ was required to spend his life savings in trying to uncover the resource of the ostarine, as well as was approved with the full four year restriction for not right away admitting an ADRV he said was not his fault. USADA provided to examine the items made use of by Wallhead, in spite of him being based overseas in the UK, and even sourced its own supplement tub to confirm his insurance claims. It sustained his effort to reduce his assent for an ADRV he suggested was not his mistake.

It manages the glycolysis as well as is consequently important for the cell metabolic rate of all neighboring cells under anaerobic conditions. Complicated I is the initial enzyme in the breathing chain in the mitochondrial membrane and essential for the typical cell performance. https://peptides-uk.com/bpc157/italy/ revealed that the intermediate dose of LG led to a higher task of CS than in the OVX team in the GM and also a higher activity of LDH than in the Non-OVX as well as OVX+LG 4 in the LM. OS had less result on muscle mass enzyme task, showing a higher CS task in OVX+OS 4 team than in the OVX group in the LM. Whereas, an elevated CS task is a pen for a boosted cardiovascular ability, a boosted task of both enzymes, LDH and CS, appears to be needed for a rapid muscle healing. Elevation of these enzyme activities complying with administration of SARMs could indicate an improved muscle mass feature. Additionally, the present research revealed that product CK as an indication of muscle mass damage was not impacted by either OS or LG.

These experiments allow Crick scientists to examine carefully just how healthy proteins engage with each various other.

All items noted "keep cool and completely dry" ought to be stored icy, preferably at -20 ° C. The majority of peptides, when stored listed below -10 ° C, will continue to be steady for several years.

This provides insight into exactly how little particle medications which connect with repair work healthy proteins can be used to deal with condition such as cancer.

If the peptide has lots of acidic amino acids, make use of an aqueous ammonia (1 to 10 %) service, or an unstable standard buffer such as N-ethylmorpholine acetate or bicarbonate, with or without sonication.

As an example, scientists make use of peptides to work out which healthy proteins repair damaged DNA.

Activotec gives a total variety of peptide synthesizers as well as services for peptide as well as healthy protein synthesis.

I used another supplier for caps formerly but this fluid item is without a doubt premium IMHO. Every one of our items are manufactured under excellent production methods in an ISO 7 medical-grade laboratory. Andarine S-4 was created to minimising muscular tissue wasting, promote stamina, as well as gain lean muscle. Ostarine was developed as a treatment for muscle mass squandering syndromes by boosting toughness and also promoting muscle development. Cardarine was developed to improve endurance, as well as boost weight loss. Ligandrol was established to raising lean muscular tissue, improve stamina, as well as protect against muscle waste. Get in touch today for more details concerning SARMs body building supplements and also we will certainly enjoy to aid with any kind of concerns you might have for us.

There are no researches reporting in vivo results of OS as well as LG on postmenopausal muscle framework as well as metabolism. The aim of the here and now research was to check out the impact of OS and LG on the muscle cells of ovariectomized rats as the conventional design for postmenopausal conditions. The OS effect on bone tissue and animal design as a component of Experiment I has been recently released. Hormone replacement therapy in postmenopausal females is connected with extreme adverse effects, such as an enhanced threat of coronary heart problem, breast cancer, stroke, as well as venous thromboembolism. Nonetheless, it is still one of the most reliable treatment for postmenopausal signs and symptoms and for meticulously chosen ladies, benefits could exceed dangers. Careful estrogen receptor modulators have beneficial effects on the musculoskeletal system like estrogen, they have fewer unfavorable events on busts and also the womb. Nonetheless, they are still associated with venous thromboembolism and also stroke.

[szivtalan]

8, 9, 16, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 40, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 53, 55, 57, 58, 59, 62, 64, 65, 70 (aside from Kagami 😂), 71, 72, 79, 82, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99 for the "Asks, why not" thing please? (Omg that's soo much, I'm sorry I got carried away ^^')

8) Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself)

Average height, bordering on short. Broad shoulders, thick arms and thighs, square face, slightly projecting ears (one pierced, one with a stretched lobe), bushy arched brows, thick square glasses, faded dark red hair, dark brown eyes, butt chin. I look pale and perpetually sleep deprived.

9) What do you/did you study?

I was in a teacher’s training program for English and Hungarian language and literature, and I’m planning to go back to school to study sociology!

16) What do you look for in a SO?

Consciously: understanding, fun, sweet, kind and accepting. Unconsciously: somewhat broken and in dire need of emotional help which I’m desperate to provide lmao.

19) Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?

Eh, u know, it depends? I don’t think I’m fit for a serious relationship right now, so I’d prefer casual stuff atm, but on the long run I do want a partner to share my life with.

20) What are your deal breakers?

Really obnoxious people, ignorance and bigotry I guess. And I’m not keen on someone pushing or disrespecting my boundaries, either.

21) How was your day?

It was good!! My bro, his girlfriend and my friend tagged along to get our (me and my soon-to-be sis-in-law’s) ears pierced, and then my friend and I got a loot of food. I didn’t exactly feel good enough abt myself to be comfortable outside, but I got a lot of random kindness and that was Nice.

22) Favourite food & drink

Food: teriyaki chicken and seafood pasta, drink: ginger ale and iced coffee

23) What position do you sleep in?

I sleep half-curled up on my side, but I need to toss and turn a little until I find The Best Position.

25) Your fears

The dark, needles, rabbits (I don’t even know, dude), the fact that I’ll die without having made an impact on the world, being spoken about behind my back, being a bad influence on my friends.

28) Any pets?

Not right now! I used to have two rottweilers around the house growing up, but they both passed away sadly.

29) What are your hobbies?

Writing, sketching, basketball, getting on people’s nerves, researching typology, watchin movies idk?

31) What was your last awkward situation?

Asjhdh the ticket control guy told me to “Have a safe trip” and I said “You too!”. This rarely happens to me tho

32) What is your last regret?

Not holding my friend’s hand on public transport. It was…right…there….and she already told me she’s more than comfortable with physical touch! I’m a fool! Everyone thinks I hate touching but I don’t! I’m just shy!

34) Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.)

Ehh. Kind of? As for believing, I believe more in ghosts, but I do see some patterns in different signs. I just try not to let it affect the way I see/interact with a person, because no one deserves to be prejudiced for whatever reason, especially not their date of birth. Tarot is just fun, and the cards r cool

35) Have any quirks?

I bite the skin on my fingers, scratch my acne, make my knees jump… most of it is just regular anxiety stuff tho so idk?? I do think I’m quirky, but there’s just too much weird stuff to list ‘em.

36) Your pet peeves

Cig/booze stink on a person, customers being rude, bigotry, interrupting other people… There’s quite some things that annoy me asjdgd

40) Last 5 things from your search history

Boku No Hero Academia, Hawks, duck emoji, Grumman fma, How To Train Your Dragon

41) What’s your device backgrounds?

My phone lockscreen rn is a beautiful KagaKuro fanart of them standing in the rain in yukatas, Kagami looming over Kuroko and shielding him from the rain and Kuroko reaching up to stroke his face; my phone background is an art of they/them pronouns tattooed on someone’s knuckles, their posture unsure; my laptop background is a screenshot from the movie Déva, of blue skies and a street lamp.

42) What do you daydream about?

…cu..cuddling,,my…crush……..

44) What's your religion/Your thought about religion

Short version: barf

Long version: I was raised catholic (even tho I was never baptized), and attended catholic school for 8 years which gave me a really warped idea of Christianity, Which made me a cynic & an agnostic or atheist by proxy. I harshly criticize the catholic church and faith but sometimes… when I do feel hopeless I get down on my knees and pray, so I guess if I let myself find my own faith I’d be a believer. But right now, I’m good just existing in my nihilistic bubble

45) Your personality type

Needy imeanwhat. In a typological sense, I’m an INFP in Myers-Briggs, 4 core 5 wing in Enneagram, melancholic or sanguine in the temperaments, et cetera. Basically I’m a sad daydreamer with unresolved issues and a need to do Art

47) Are you happy with your current life?

Nah bro. I like my friends and my workplace but I’d like to move out of home ASAP. I’d also… like to get therapy before I go and put myself out there.

48) Some things you've tried in your life

Playing the guitar, hostess work, weed, cigarettes, being blackout drunk, smoking from a hookah, cooking, football, handball, basketball, volleyball, cycling, sailing, driving, hitchhiking long distances, folk dancing, one-night stands, long-distance relationships, helping people in need…

50) Favourite colour to wear?

Olive green, midnight/navy blue, white, grey and black.

53) If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?

I’d… like to know how it would feel if I had a flat chest and a penis? I also want bigger Guns, and Abs, some more tattoos and maybe an eyebrow piercing.

55) Do you get complimented often?

I think so? I usually brush off compliments uhhh but yeah maybe! Maybe idk

58) Songs you're currently obsessed with?

My friend’s playlist reminded me that ‘Phenomenon’ by Thousand Foot Krutch exists. I’m also really into ‘San Francisco’ by The Mowgli’s atm and ‘Golden Time Lover’ by Sukima Switch!

59) Song you normally wouldn't admit you like.

I mean, it’s not like it’s cringe or anything, I hate cringe culture BUT. I do have Ariana Grande’s ‘Side to Side’ stuck in my head rn

64) Can you sing or play any instruments?

I can sing pretty badly, play a bad tune on my guitar, drum on the edge of my table, so- Nah not really asdh

65) Do you like karaoke?

YES VERY MUCH I live and die for karaoke, last time I did it in front of an audience we sung the Shaman King opening at an anime con with friends, it was Rad

70) Your fictional crush/es

AH NO FUN Kagami’s my number one,,, let’s see then: Aomine, Roy Mustang, Kise, Mikoto Suoh, Hotch & Reid from Criminal Minds, Yagami Light, Jaime Lannister and Brienne from GoT, Rustin Cohle from True Detective, Shizuo Heiwajima from Durarara!!!, why is this list full of men I didn’t think I liked men this much

71) Which fictional character is you?

Eddie Brock from Venom I mean? He’s a whole ass mess.

79) How much time do you spend on the internet?

Yike. More than I’d be proud of.

86) Would you use death note, if you had one?

No way dude. I don’t fuck with that shit, karma would fuck me right back.

87) What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?

I’d eliminate money and power and just make it a huge peaceful hippie community or something idk

90) What would you want to happen to you after your death?

Donate me to a medical school I don’t care. Make use of me! I’m gonna be dead, I won’t have any more feelings left to be hurt or anything asdghdsg

91) If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?

I’ve had a name in mind that I tried out once, but it didn’t really work out for me after all. I’m fine with Vee and Vic rn. Anything that isn’t my given name. I do want to change my surname to my mother’s, but if I do that I also want to give myself a different first name, and since That isn’t figured out yet, I’m just?? Call me whatever dude

94) Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true

Ugh, I’m bad at these. 1) I have plenty of moles. 2) My eyesight is pretty good. 3) I’ve broken some bones before.

95) Cold or hot?

Cold in beverage, hot in weather.

96) Be a hero or be a villain?

Being a villain is way too much fun, but I have too strong of a conscience to pull that off, so… hero, I guess.

97) Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?

Asjhdf singing is funnier and more annoying, since I Cannot Sing

98) Shapeshifting or controlling time?

Dude I’m non-binary. Shapeshifting for Sure

99) Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?

Aight I’ll give in – I agree to immortality Just This Once.