#i have been accepting every possible iteration of them into my brain and its going to explode

[deathflare]

been plagued by the thought of this

[green5quirrel]

Ugh. I'm bored.

I'm just gonna write some shit.

It's like "Morning Pages" except circa late 90's early 2000's Livejournal/OpenDiary style. So bear with me.

I've just updated my Bullet Journal. Even typing that makes me cringe. What would 20-something year old me think of a bullet journal? What would 20-something year old I don't fit in any boxes so don't try to put me in one think of writing on grid paper? I mean...it's ALL boxes, isn't it?

But this is my life, now. I write in Bullet Journals. I wear cardigans. I claw my way through the Artist's Way carefully excising the presence of religion. I don't have boobs (or nipples). Let's just say a lot of things have changed in the past two decades.

I go to this amazing little queer coffee house. I use the word "queer" unironically and also use it for myself. I go to this amazing little queer coffee house with its fairies dangling from fishing wire on the ceiling (like, doll fairies not the slur). These plastic folks are mostly Barbie dolls made to look like fairies and sway in the breeze of people walking by amid the lines of faux Edison bulb string lights and pride flag garland.

I go there every Wednesday. I meet up with a bunch of folks (folx? I dunno the current accepted spelling these days) and we do an iteration of Stitch and Bitch. Today I worked on my fanfiction.

After I left the café I went to an Ace Hardware store. I went there because I am an adult and uncool and also because I am working to get into clock repair as a hobby and had been there last week to pick up some tools that were not clock specific.

I met a 61 year old man called Bill there last week. He excitedly chatted to me about the clocks he'd inherited and sold and those he had kept. He has a mantel clock and wanted me to take a look at it. I declined. And I declined again after he insisted. I've not even cracked open a clock and taken out a movement. There's no way I'm working on a family heirloom.

He'll show me the picture of the clock next week as he wasn't able to get over there to take it on account of it being someone's birthday (his business partner's?). Bill shares his life like a person shares Halloween candy in a big plastic bowl on the first of November.

He likes my name. But he still refers to me as a girl. But he also treats me like he's excited to see me even though we've only met twice.

Bill once got paid a few thousand dollars to do some landscaping for a rich person and a few hundred to put in a tree. So, yeah, I consider those two things like tootsie rolls. The chocolate bars are when he talks about his family and how he supports them and his childhood in a watch shop with his dad while a parade of circus animals passes by.

At any rate, after I talked to Bill I went to an antique's mall nearby and scoured the shelves for anything that would be beneficial to my clock repair goals. I didn't find anything today, but that's okay. I'll go back in a couple of weeks.

I am struggling a little right now. So lemme give you all some quality Halloween candy, if you don't mind.

In 2020 my mom died of liver cancer. I had moved back to my hometown to help her and when she started to decline I decided that as soon as she had passed and I had come to terms with it I would move on and explore my options of where to live next.

In 2020 there weren't any options. There continued to not be options for a while after that. Now, as time has finally started to even out and pass like it's supposed to pass, instead of the slow/fast/manic/depressive pace it went through during the pandemic, I am suddenly left with possibility. And that is scary.

I have a partner in Canada who works in Michigan. So there is a thought to move there. But I'm not sure how my mood will go with the rain and cold. Still, Michigan seems safer than here below the Mason Dixon line.

Currently, in this moment, I am struggling not only with motivation and courage but also with working retail when my brain wants anything but to work in the toxic environment of the needy and the entitled.

I have no energy to be creative and my clock repair hobby is also crawling because of that lack of energy. I don't know how I used to do it. How did I sustain myself while expending so much time and energy on a job like this? It wasn't drugs. I wasn't cool enough for that. It must've been joy to some degree. Youth, certainly. Perhaps hope. Perhaps ignorance/naivety. Whatever it was I definitely don't have it anymore.

Was this meant to be an entry to whine in? No. It wasn't meant to be anything. It wasn't meant to be pithy or amusing or witty or motivational. It was meant to be an entry for boredom and reflect. So there it is. I've done it. I've succeeded.

Now to sacrifice myself to the fatigue that has been insisting on attention for an hour now and draw myself a warm blanket to lie in and drown in my dreams.

[scottydog4-blog]

Okay.

It’s been a day.

There are now a LOT of gifs and Twitter-pinions about the premier, and I have some too.

When I finished ‘More Joy’, I quite literally thought “I want them to go back to how it was”…. and I felt like a complete Sharpwin traitor. I actually wanted to box it all back up and have the old Max and Helen back, corridor walks and longing stares, all happening safely inside the walls of New Amsterdam hospital. And at the same time I wanted to rewatch the whole episode to see new Max and Helen again because they were (mostly) adorable.

Then I spent the day reflecting and the more I thought about what I didn’t like, the more I realised one thing. I didn’t like that they weren’t at the hospital. It felt so weird to see them at Helen’s place, half dressed and TALKING, openly. It was a bit too much for my over analytical, ready-to-pick-up-on-all-and-any-subtext brain. It was a change seeing them like that, and I don’t seem to like change. Which is hard because it seems season 4 is not only about joy, but about change.

Yes yes, the first scene was 🔥🔥🔥 endless gifs. In hindsight, I wish I’d never seen any previews but alas, I’m a spoiler junkie. It was awesome though.

The second scene was slightly dramatic and achieved its goal of throwing a nice cold-bucket-of-water on the moment 🥶🥶🥶

The third scene did feel a little out of left field because in Helen’s season finale London movie her mum was not very likeable and for most of Season 3 Mina was a pain in the ass, so wanting us to root for her to go hang out with both of them instead of her very warm and loving NA fam and her new hot boyfriend is a hard sell! But go read someone else’s analysis of that because a lot has been said about her past and her healing journey etc. I can accept it, it’ll just sting a bit (see hatred of change above).

I’m going for the next three scenes.

Scene four. I loved it because they were up and they were walking about and talking normally and I think them walking and talking is as much part of both of their characters as their longing looks. He’s followed her down endless hospital corridors, now around her apartment, and maybe soon across an ocean. And yes you can complain about the I love yous, or you might love how they happened. Whatever. All I saw was Max react to her saying ‘I love you’ as if finally, even to him, this was completely obvious. I mean, his face is like ‘duh’. It’s why he’s ready to fight so hard for her. He’s not second guessing that she loves him anymore. And that felt good to see.

Scene five. I hated it. I still do. But I hate it because it makes me feel uneasy and uncomfortable, like it becomes painfully obvious that their long distance solution is not going to work and it’s awkward watching them realise it to. Which is the point. Because we all need to get that long distance is just not going to work. If they went down that route for an episode or two (or five) then that would mean Helen would be able to leave, and Max would stay, and that’s certainly not what we want. She’s one of our favourite doctors and she has amazing patient storylines and being Max’s long distance girlfriend is not just a down grade for Helen (and Freema), it’s insulting. What I think most viewers would have liked by the end of this scene is literally for Helen to give up on her London dream so everything goes back to being easy and we would get Max and Helen staying at New Amsterdam, same as they always have been, only now perfectly in love. Also an insult to woman everywhere. But you know who absolutely never tries to suggest that, who keeps making suggestion after suggestion, who literally declares different iterations of “it’s gunna work” every time she implies that it won’t. Max. He never asks her not to do this, only reassures her they’ll figure it all out. And that also felt good to see.

Lastly, scene six. My absolute favourite (yes, above scene one). It makes complete sense now why the last scene on the roof is the most comfortable one to watch. Because it’s them. Max and Helen. Back at New Amsterdam. On their roof. Just existing next to each other. Clothed (lol). “Oh hi” never sounded so good after all the ups and downs during the episode. Glancing at each other as they chat in front of the NYC skyline. That feeling that everything had changed evaporated instantly. Change MAY be coming, but for now they are still here.

And when they do start to talk about them, it doesn’t feel so weird. In fact, this scene is literally pure JOY. How can you argue otherwise? Max, who admitted on the very same roof to the very same woman how he’d let his wife down because he couldn’t turn down his chance to climb ‘Everest’, is now willing to do the exact opposite and GIVE UP his Everest so Helen can climb hers. Because he loves her. Plus, LOOK AT FREEMA’S FACE. How does she do all those emotions like that? And then there’s Max, who just looks back at her like ‘of course I’ll follow you, you’re my joy silly.’

SO MUCH JOY ON THAT ROOF!!!

People are only mad because they are freaking out about how the show creators are going to possibly make this work without them. And that in itself is just totally unnecessary.

New Amsterdam is a show about the Medical Director, Max Goodwin, and all his awesome staff. It’s about patients. It’s about shining a light on things and causes that matter. It’s about New York (see all those rooftop scenes, that skyline is the other character). People LOVE it just as it is. WE love it. Those things are the premise of the whole show. So can everyone CHILL. What they’ve done, is they’ve put that thing we love on the line and now we are all wanting to know how the hell they’re going to fix this mess. And they are going to say OVER and OVER that Max and Helen are DEFINITELY leaving because implying otherwise undermines the whole storyline. We need to feel they are leaving to be invested in whatever happens next. Time jump or mind changes or any number of things they might throw our way to get a back to the premise of the show. And we are going to tune in week after week to find out. And that my friends, is how television works. And thinking they were going to do otherwise was just setting yourself up for disappointment.

To the people demanding Max and Helen be happy for at least one episode… um, they looked very happy in episode 1 and they look very happy up against an ambulance in episode 2, and in the corridor smooching in episode 3, and wandering the streets of NYC some time in the future…

To the people who thought they were getting 5 full minutes of sexy times. I believe what we were told was we’d be ‘happy with the first 5 minutes’ (e.g. that glorious time before Helen said ‘I should never have…’)

To the people who read every single article and Q&A - Schulner LITERALLY said so many times that the season would be about discovering your joy and what happens after you get what you want. I think one time he even mentioned ‘chasing after’ it. We were basically warned and WE ARE LITERALLY LIVING THIS NOW TOO. We got Sharpwin, now we have to live with what happens next. Cause and effect in action.

To the people annoyed with all the drama this show has caused. It’s a… drama show. It was to be expected.

So let’s try to relax and enjoy the ride :)

[ahiddenpath]

Combating Writing Paralysis with Successive Drafts

Hey all!  It’s been a long time since I’ve written about writing, but a switch flipped in my brain while I was drafting this morning.  Suddenly, I had to share my thoughts on utilizing successive drafts to split the copious concepts writers juggle into manageable loads.  

This is a long, but practical post.  I hope you’ll read on below the cut!

It’s common for writers to feel overwhelmed, and no wonder.  There are so many narrative elements to consider, and there’s usually far more content to write before you have a complete work of fiction.

My advice is to never attempt to nail every aspect of your story in the first draft.  Instead, try approaching each draft with specific goals, lightening your expectations and mental load for each iteration.  The idea is to make writing less intimidating, and to polish every element by giving each one individual attention.

I’m not a professional writer, so I can only tell you how I approach the drafting process.  I encourage you to experiment with these ideas and find what works best for you; there’s no need to limit yourself to my template.

Annnnd here we go!

Draft 1:  Plot and Movement

The purpose of my first draft is to simply move the characters through the plot points/action of the chapter or scene.  

I’m not suggesting that you exclude dialogue and characterization, or that you write a plot outline.  Simply write a rough draft in its entirety, but don’t worry about the quality.  Your goal here is to iron out what happens.

Draft 2:  Herding the Plot Bunnies, Staging

In this draft, I focus on:

-Refining the plot:  At this stage, I consider concerns such as: do the plot points obey the work’s internal logic?  How does this scene contribute to the overall plot?  How does it lead to the next scene?  Am I properly setting up/providing info for future scenes?  

-Tracking plot details:  If timeline/dates/the current time are important to your story, double check them.  Make sure no important objects materialized from the ether.  Confirm that no plot points were dropped or forgotten; if a character lost her shoe last scene, then it should still be gone.

-Scene staging:  Did a character appear in the scene without explanation (ie, where did he come from)?  Where is everyone standing?  Where are any important objects?  If there’s an animal in the scene, where is it (it’s so easy to forget to mention a pet, who should be included in scenes set in the character’s living area)?  Are there important environmental features?

Draft 3:  Setting/Description, Characterization, and Pacing

Now that the basic details are handled, it’s time to dig deeper!  In this iteration, I focus on:

-Adding information about the setting.  In the previous drafts, you established where the characters are (for example, at a library).  Now, you can focus on the details and engage the senses.  What does the library look like?  Are patrons being quiet, or is someone obnoxiously talking?  Does it smell like old books?  Is the protagonist handling a mass produced book with thin pages that stain fingers with printing ink, or a hefty tome meant to last for generations?

-Enhancing dialogue and characterization and marrying them to the plot.  For example, in the library, perhaps the most bookish or research-oriented character should lead the scene.  Alternatively, maybe a less scholastic character is out of their element, and needs help or feels uncomfortable.  Choose the character best suited to move the plot along and generate the mood you desire.  

Ideally, you want the characters to lead the plot (ie, have agency), instead of the plot seizing the characters (ie, the characters have no choice but to flounder along with what is happening).  Plot-driven stories are absolutely a thing, so if that’s what you’re writing, then go for it.  Generally, though, audiences respond best to characters making their own decisions.

This is the perfect time to examine your previous drafts and play around with the characters, shuffling them among scenes or reassigning lines of dialogue as needed.  Which character has the skills or personality to handle this challenge?  Which character needs to be here to learn a pivotal piece of information, or to witness the scene and be changed by it?

-After you address the above points, take time to consider the chapter’s pacing.  Does anything feel bogged down and repetitive?  Rushed or unclear?

Draft 4:  Character Growth, Theme and Mood

Ah, now we’re getting to the juicy bits!  

You might have noticed that these drafts focus on increasingly difficult concepts.  Now, we’re striking at the heart of narratives: what the story aims to say, and how it aims to make readers feel.

Here’s what I consider at this stage:

-Character growth.  What did Character learn from this?  What new idea is churning in her head?  What pressures are building that might explode later?  How did I show Character displaying her growth or regression?

-How did I reinforce the thematic goals I have for this scene, and for the entire piece?  

It’s pivotal to identify your themes before you begin work on a story.  At this stage, I briefly identify how the chapter or scene supports the work’s themes.

Everyone has specific themes that matter to them.  I tend to write about: dealing with trauma, surviving and healing from abuse, the importance of seeking and giving support, found families, self-actualization, setting up and balancing your life according to your specific needs, feminist issues, establishing boundaries, acceptance, and independence vs dependence.  Even my works with lots of shenanigans and comedy, like Four Years, circle around these ideas.

I also “level” my themes in this draft.  I want to avoid being too heavy-handed or too oblique.  People tend to go too hard, rather than too soft, so I usually dial back.  You want to guide your reader to your point, not write it on your knuckles and deck them. 

-How does this scene make me feel?  

Influencing the emotions of your readers is... possibly a writer’s loftiest goal?  If readers experience an emotion as a result of your writing, then they’re invested, they’re absorbing it.  And, to some degree, they’re resonating with your words and message- and with you.

Consider what mood best suits your intentions, and play close attention to your execution.

Editing and Proofreading

I edit and proofread during every draft stage, except for draft 1 (here’s a resource on the difference between the two, if you’re interested).  

Stephen King’s On Writing is a must for folks who want to learn more about editing.  I’ve read many writing books, but his taught me to edit with a single sample, so it’s the one I recommend.  Basically, you must learn to excise words that aren’t adding anything (adverbs are frequent offenders), replace words with more direct/relevant/evocative ones, and replace hefty phrases with shorter ones.  Here’s a sample of that last concept from my Seeking Resonance draft:

“Koushiro moved out of the doorway” became “Koushiro moved aside.”  In the prose, I already established that Koushiro was in the doorway.  There was no need to specify where he was both coming and going, so I was able to express the idea with three words instead of six and avoid repeating the word “doorway/door.”

Once you see this logic in action, everything will click.  Give On Writing a read!  I guarantee that your library has copies, probably physical and digital.

Whew, I am out of steam, so I’ll wrap this up!  Remember, trying to hold the many aspects of narratives in your hands and carry them simultaneously is an enormous mental load.  It’s so much to carry that you might walk away instead of writing.  I hope this encourages you to pick up a few pieces at a time, in whatever order and combination makes sense to you.  

Additional Writing Posts

-Dishing with an artist

-Tips for Fanfic Authors

-More Tips for Fanfic Authors

-Tips for Winning Nanowrimo

-Resources/Advice for Digimon Adventure Fanfic Writers

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are... Disgusting “Disease”

Hope you all enjoy please feel free to message with ideas and prompts, I don’t want to run out of material for you to enjoy.

Warning: this one is also a bit gross.

Report ID 2241569

Author Krill

Disease

Can we talk for a moment about just how disgusting humans are? And I don’t mean psychologically this time….. I mean like physically. And physically disgusting in a terrifying sort of way. By now we know that humans are excessive in every way possible, and that includes their diseases; the way I see it, there are two types of disease: the kind that start on the inside based on an internal malfunction, or the stuff that comes in from the outside and causes an internal malfunction. Since I will mainly be focusing on these outside diseases, we will be looking at mainly viruses and bacteria.

1.       The common cold, this is the human trademark super virus. It is, in fact, so common, that most humans ignore it as a part of life. Most of the time, it won’t even stop them from going to work. ‘But Krill’ you may ask ‘what is so wrong about that? It doesn’t seem so bad’ well I’ll tell you why.

a.       Symptoms include dribbling from every orifice like some kind of slimy ooze creature from your worst nightmares.

b.      Coughing, a symptom caused by throat irritation that leads to the spread of the virus by spewing it into the air like a diseased aerosol canister.

c.       And if that wasn’t enough, sneezing irritates the nasal cavity turning the human body into a disease cannon shooting nasty into the air at around 80-200 mph.

d.      The most terrifying part about this? The humans consider it a normal occurrence, and in many places, they will walk into public like that to spread their germs to everyone, and no one cares. Accept maybe in Asian countries, where the humans will wear masks to protect others, or themselves from getting sick, but of course, being lucky me, we are in a western country where no one gives one shit about anyone else catching their nasty.

2.       Oh, can we also talk about the human’s yearly epidemic? Yes you heard me correctly, the humans have a yearly epidemic. In fact, it is so regular and so predictable, that the humans have dubbed this viral epidemic “flu season”. Because like fall, winter, and summer the humans have a time of year where they can just go right ahead and die. Who the F*** has a SEASON for epidemics!

a.       Symptoms include all previously mentioned ‘common cold” but like times 10

b.      Body aches, because nothing says F*** you like a disease that makes your entire body hurt for no damn reason.

c.       This pain notably includes the head.

d.      And like all infections, the human body has one sure fire way to get rid of it. How you ask? Well the human body makes the executive decision to make itself the most inhospitable enviornment possible. How? By turning up the natural body temperature of the human to BURN the virus away

                                                               i.      This would be fine and all if it weren’t for one little problem. The human natural body temperature is 98.6, but starting at about 105 degrees the human body stars burning its own brain and may potentially cause irreversible damage

e.      Other symptoms include gastrointestinal problems (see section 3)

f.        DEATH very probably death, in fact, some years the death toll rises to around 80,000.

g.       And does this stop the humans from going about their daily business? NO, NO IT DOES NOT!

3.       I know my last two inclusions on this list have been mostly respiratory in nature, but lucky for you, I have a fun little tidbit about gastrointestinal diseases. What is it called? You guessed it. The stomach flu or viral gastroenteritis, or an infection of the GI tract. I would honestly rather die of the respiratory flu that have to deal with this mess.

a.       Can cause a low-grade fever. Doesn’t seem so bad you say, well just wait…. Just wait.

b.      Headaches.

c.       Stomach pain, yes, the humans can feel pain in their viscera. And that fact in itself is the most horrifying thing I think I have ever heard. It turns out human digestion already hurts to begin with, and they just don’t notice, but try getting a human to digest when their insides are INFECTED. Can be so bad, it causes the human to curl up on the ground in agony.

d.      Nausea, or the extreme desire to eject all bodily contents out of the mouth.

e.      Can humans do that? You ask…… yes…. Yes they can. Oh…. I…. it’s making me sick just thinking about it. So you know how humans have a digestive cavity filled with acid at about a Ph. level of 1-3….. well if they feel sick enough, their body triggers a reaction that causes all contents of the stomach, acid included, to….. shoot back up the esophagus and out the mouth known as throwing up, vomiting, hurling, tossing ones cookies etc.

                                                               i.      This reaction can have enough pressure to send the stomach contents shooting out of the nose as well as the mouth. And yes, humans tell me that it does burn, its acid after all.

                                                             ii.      This reaction can actually cause other, completely healthy, humans to preform the exact same action upon sight, sound or smell.

                                                            iii.      Some humans have no ability to tell when it is coming, while other humans seem to have a magical 6th sense warning them of this approaching issue.

f.        If any measure of stomach contents manages to last through the stomach, or was, perhaps, already in the lower directional tract by the time the infection is in full swing, digestion goes haywire, and the only option the body has is to eject internal contents as fast as it can….. out the rectum.

                                                               i.      …

                                                             ii.      …

                                                            iii.      … I hate this species sometimes

g.       Both sections 3e and 3f can and will be performed at exactly the same time, and the human has absolutely no ability to control it. So they might just…. Explode, with disease, everywhere. On the floors, on the walls….. everywhere

h.      Humans consider this to be another common occurrence, like the common cold.

4.       And these are just the COMMON human diseases, I haven’t even gotten into the plagues or most specifically the Black Death.

a.       A 14th century human bacterial disease that killed an estimated 50 million people in Asia, Africa, and Europe the latter of which lost up to 60% of its population.

b.      Symptoms first appear flulike with the development of swollen lymph nodes and eventually develop into necrosis of the extremities, seizures, and the continuous vomiting of blood.

5.       Oh look where we are now BACK TO THE F***ing FLU and the 1981 influenza outbreak of the H1N1 strain, a massive pandemic that killed up to 100 million people roughly 5% of the world’s population, and GUESS WHAT some human scientists think it wasn’t ANY DIFFERENT from the current flu they have today.

a.       Granted the flu they have today mutates every year, so this is generally speaking.

6.       Ebola….. F***ing Ebola

a.       Causes you to bleed to death internally.

b.      Isn’t hemorrhagic fever so fun! J L

7.       There are generally too many human diseases for me to discuss right here, but I need you to know that there are hundreds if not thousands more that can cause brain damage, disfigurement, blindness, and cause humans not to be able to move…..

a.       I learn that most of these horrible diseases actually come from the fact that humans domesticated other species on their planet. Some of the more deadly iteration of these diseases aren’t even meant for the humans, but an interaction with animals passes diseases not meant for humans, onto humans.

8.       The good thing is, humans are very good at making vaccines against these diseases. Some of these were even eradicated in the richer countries…..

a.       But humans sometimes don’t understand a good thing

b.      SOME humans REFUSE to take A LIFE SAVING MEDICATION BECAUSE THEY THINK THE VACCINE WILL KILL OR DISFIGURE THEM! F***ING MORONS! Why the F*** do we talk to these people. SOME humans are unable to take these lifesaving medications cause of other underlying conditions and REQUIRE heard immunity to be safe BUT NO! IGNORAMUSES LIKE THESE HURT MY SOUL!

c.       Vaccinate yourselves, as an alien whose planet is about a few billion years older than earth, and of a species who has interactions with other intergalactic races, I know for a fact that the benefits far outweigh the costs.

9.       Humans are insane, their diseases are insane, everything about earth is designed to kill you, even the stuff that you cannot see.

10.   Earth is a death planet

 Article 16 of The Pan-galactic Peace Agreement.

By order of the Galactic Assembly, any species either entering or having already entered into alliance with the Galactic Assembly are required, by law, that anyone leaving their home-world must provide full proof and documentation of a complete vaccination panel including all required off-world vaccinations if they are to interact, visit, or parlay with any out-species factions. Refusal to do so will bar a subject from exiting their own system.

If this law is to be broken, home world-rights are immediately foregone, and punishment will be quickly and thoroughly executed by the Pan-Galactic Penal System. These punishments include and are not limited to, fines, prison sentence, and extradition.

The Galactic Assembly has and enforces this law specifically for the safety of the species, with the knowledge that cross-species disease has the potential to cause planet-wide pandemic and annihilation. It is our desire to enforce this law most strictly, and with full purpose to protect the species under our care.  

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song Ch. 3: don’t need no reason or happy hour

Chapter 3 of my Country Singer!Emma AU is here. I added a tag on AO3 for alcohol abuse, because while I don’t think we have true alcoholism here... Emma’s coping mechanisms are shit and the heavy drinking isn’t the healthiest. I wanted to make sure that I added that warning here as well. Please don’t use alcohol like Emma does here. I know from experience it’s hella bad news. Find a therapist! This is actual advice, not a joke. For reals. Emma should have just gone to a counselor instead of making appointments with Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. If anyone has treated you the way this iteration of Neal treated Emma, talk to someone. If you can’t afford a therapist, talk to me. Seriously, no lie, no joke, I’m only alive today because I eventually adopted a dog and sought counseling to cope with life’s many traumas.

Mmmmkkay enough babbling. 

Also on AO3

Previous Chapters  1    |     2

Their next few gigs were some of the best in Emma’s (admittedly tequila-hazed) memory, and for once that glimmer of hope for that future of fame and fortune… well, it felt like a hell of a lot more than a glimmer.

The crowds had been rowdy, raucous, and ready to sing along to every song on their whole set. A few people even more some of the merch Killian had started selling at the door, nothing fancy of course, but it made her heart burst with pride nonetheless.

It had all gotten so real, so achievable, so close to everything she’s been dreaming about before she ever really knew that dreams were a thing that could come true.

So of course something was about to bring back the quasi-comfort of her life always reverting to being a waking nightmare.

That was a deeply melodramatic way of putting it – it’s not like she was being beaten or shamed or any of the daily torments her tiny town had ensured were burned into her brain. But that was the problem with the past, wasn’t it? It wasn’t over, even when it was. Those days were past but they would always somehow be present, replaying in her brain and aching in her heart no matter how far from Pennsylvania their little van puttered.

(Whoever said you can’t go home again neglected to mention how hard it was to leave it, even after you’d physically gone.)

It had been a Tuesday. In some chain grocery store outside Virginia Beach, the sun glowing through the big front windows and the icy chill of the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her bare arms. Emma had only echoes of a hangover, so Ruby’s constantly chatting wasn’t nearly as grating as it could be. They moved slowly through the aisles, tossing various food and supplies in their cart, more than fulfilling the list Graham and Mary Margaret had given them.

They were still struggling artists but some weeks the struggle was… less. This was one of them and if they decided to celebrate with Patron instead of Jose Cuervo and fresh, organic honeycrisp apples instead of Great Value brand dried apple chips, well, it’s because they damn well deserved it.

They couldn’t have been more than a few feet away from the checkout when the radio (a constant calming presence, most days, being the object of their ambition and all) caused her heart to drop to the deepest pits of her gut, twisting her insides until she was nearly dry-heaving to get the gross sensation of feelings out of her body and in the sewer system where it belonged.

They say scent is tied to memory, and it surely is, but there’s something, too, in sound. Music had a distinct way of tying itself to a moment, to a feeling. For some people that feeling was joy, was love, could be better than the best drug to intoxicate them with no risk of hangover. But for Emma, for this song in particular, it was all hangover, no high.

I’m set on cruise control

I’m slowly losing hold of everything I got

You’re looking so damn hot

The lyrics were innocuous enough. Sweet. Loving. There was certainly some couple out there – many, probably – who smiled fondly at each other when it came on. But for her, it was just a reminder of how pathetic she’d been, once upon a time, how deeply manipulated she’d been. And oh, the consequences she’d suffered for falling for a sweet voice and a pretty face and a moment that had felt like a country song.

And I don’t know what road we’re on

Or where we’ve been, from starin at you, girl

All I know is I don’t want this night to end

It had been a song she’d listened to in Neal’s truck, on a back road, the moon high and the stars bright and her heart hammering in her chest before he leaned over the center counsel parked in his daddy’s field and kissed her like she was precious, like she was, like he could love her through this life and the next.

And even today, half-hungover in a Piggly Wiggly or whatever the fuck this place was, she still felt the whisper of butterflies in her. She still remembered how much she’d believed the lies and even hoped the bad stuff wasn’t actually real, holding on to nights like that first one, her and Neal seemingly the only two people on Earth and all she’d ever need to feel whole again.

Emma Swan was a fighter, a survivor, a strong, badass woman that no man would ever hurt again.

But one Luke Bryan song on a clear Tuesday afternoon had her so torn up in shame, she almost forgot her best friend was standing beside her, her little “family” of a band and crew waiting for her back at the block of hotel rooms down the road.

She wasn’t in Pennsylvania. Neal wasn’t anywhere near her. But she could practically smell his cologne and the exhaust of his truck and the fact that there was a tiny part of her that truly still wished it had all worked out, that he’d been the happily ever after she’d wanted, and she wanted to slap herself silly for how stupid one smart girl could be.

“I think we can afford some Reese’s mix, right?” Ruby asked, already tossing two bags in the cart as they entered the self-checkout line.

“Yeah,” was all Emma could respond, her traitor brain still wavering between wishing for an alternate ending to her stupid, sad tale and coming totally clean to Ruby about what horrors she’d suffered and hitting the road with her on a revenge-fueled quest to keep that fucker from ever hurting another sweet, could-be-innocent girl ever again.

“Emma, you with me?” Ruby’s voice was hesitant, her eyes wide as she took in Emma’s likely ghost-pale complexion and battle-ready stance.

(She was always fighting those internal ghosts and damn could those things travel.)

But she didn’t want to think about Neal or the bruises long-healed or how she wishes she could time travel back and prevent the most painful part of what that monster had done to her, the part where for a pretty little minute she truly thought she’d loved him.

No. The past might be doing its damnedest to creep into today but she was not going to let it.

Fuck you, Luke Bryan, and all your pelvic sorcery.

“God, I hate this song,” Emma finally croaked out. “I think we should celebrate today.”

“Celebrate how much you hate a song that I’m fairly sure David would kill you for hating?”

“No, Rubes. Celebrate this,” Emma motioned all around them, somewhat erratically, only serving to further confuse Ruby. At least for a moment. “We’re really getting somewhere, aren’t we? I mean, three hotel rooms. That’s, like, a record. We’re getting somewhere. You and I, we came from some shit, right? And now we’re headed toward something good and I think we should celebrate.”

“And how exactly do you propose we celebrate this? Because if it’s by having a four-way with Graham and Killian I’m absolutely in, with just a couple ground rules – “

Emma cut off her teasing before her brain had enough time to make any visuals of that: “Ew. God, no. Why does your brain even go there? No. I just meant, you know, hitting some bars or the beach or something. Day drinking. It’s the ultimate in enjoyment and not giving a fuck.”

“So you’re suggesting we celebrate the good the same way we drown our sorrows in the bad?” Ruby mocked, tossing the groceries on the conveyor belt and a packet of mints at Emma’s head.

“No, you drink your sorrows in the dark. You drink your celebrations when the sun’s out,” Emma said like it was the most normal, accepted thing in the world, like she was reciting it from a code of conduct instead of having made it up on the spot to cover for the fact that she very much, one hundred percent was drowning her sorrows but just didn’t have the patience to wait for the sun to set.

“Sure, Ems. Let’s go with that.” Ruby clearly wasn’t buying her bullshit – she always did have an excellent bullshit detector – but she went along with it all the same.

Emma paid for the groceries and hefted as many bags to the car as she could possibly carry, the burn in her arms like the warmth of the sun as she flip-flopped her way to the awaiting van, a great day of drinking and forgettingahead of her.

The usual six of them turned into seven that day, Killian’s old buddy from the service having been stationed at the naval base in Norfolk and here for a visit. Will, that was his name, and he was a pain in the ass in the very best way. He had been matching her shot-for-shot in the hotel room before they hopped the Uber to The Cove, a beachside bar favored by locals and tourists alike. He would tease her and taunt her and buy her drinks, but with absolutely the energy of a brother and not a I’m looking to get into your pants kind of way.

David saw her as a sister, sure, but he tended toward the serious, the protective. He cared so much and knew too much, and it kept him from being totally lighthearted or even downright rude. And Graham, well he never paid Emma quite that much attention, always on his own quests and whatnot. She couldn’t blame the guy, and truly she didn’t usually want attention, but there was something about today, something about the casual nature of her exchanges with Will that allowed her to just be free.

Killian wasn’t quite on board, though. Ever since she and Ruby had floated the idea of some casual no-show-tonight fun, he’d been weirdly quiet. Mary Margaret and David were notably excited, seeming to view it as an opportunity for date night, even with the five other tagalongs. And Ruby was pretty much always up for a party.

But Killian seemed to be cranky at her and she couldn’t figure out why.

“Let loose, why don’t you, Jones!” Emma shouted across the bar, Killian nursing a rum and coke while Ruby, Will, and Emma had joined another group of probable-tourists in a limbo competition.

“Eh, let him sulk,” Will had suggested, stumbling a little after returning to the upright position. He was suspiciously good at the limbo. Maybe he’d been a gymnast in another life?

“I’ll get him, Em,” Ruby promised, having fallen flat on her ass after the last round (the responding ooooohhhhhhshaving more to do with her skirt riding up to her waist as she fell than it was about the fall itself).

Ruby had spent the next hour or so in the corner with Killian, both steadily drinking but never really coming to re-join the party. So Emma and Will kept socializing with strangers while Graham flirted hard with a pretty girl and Mary Margaret and David found another grossly into each other couple to apparently double date with, because of course they did.

After a few drinking games, a few messy dances, and definitely too much liquor for before 5pm, Emma finally took a break, she and Will sidling up to the bar and ordering some nachos.

“Y’know, you’re not nearly as pretty as Killian described you,” Will said after a few minutes of nacho-focused silence.

“Hey! I think you’re insulting me and I don’t appreciate it,” Emma responded, cheese dripping down the corner of her mouth.

“Way he talks, you’d think you were a bleeding fallen angel or something. I definitely didn’t expect a hot mess who talked with her mouth full.”

“Hah! You said hot. I still got it,” she joked, chomping down on another cheese and chili covered chip.

Emma had become pretty good at reading people – people tended to adapt after you suffering the consequences of falling for it – and Will definitely wasn’t flirting with her. At least not with actual intent. So why on earth had he brought up her looks?

She was happy to play along with whatever game he had going, was even feeling a little bolder and more confident than usual with his carefree attitude and his backward compliments.

But his next comment was the proverbial bucket of ice on any of those feelings.

“He’s a good man, Emma. I hope you don’t toy with him.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly was this fucker accusing her of? She hadn’t even talked to Killian since they’d been at the hotel and she certainly hadn’t been mean. No, even at her most prickly, she was never all-out mean to him. He was a good guy, the type to hold your hair when you puked and nearly the opposite of her initial assumptions about him. Of course she’d never ‘toy with him.’ The fucking nerve of this dude.

“I don’t think you know me enough to continue those thoughts, Scarlet,” she warned, shoving the nachos away and downing her fruity drink.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like you, Emma. You’d make a good mate. But I’m more like you than you realize, and I know how many people I hurt before I got myself straight. Just … keep that in mind, won’t ya?”

And then the bastard just… left.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone – not even to Killian – and left Emma pissed as all hell and sitting alone at a tourist trap in the worst city in all of Virginia.

So much for that attempt at celebration.

But before her thoughts (and actions) could turn to the dark side, Graham and David were approaching her for a friendly tournament of darts and after a couple bulls eyes and a little light taunting, her carefree spirit had returned, just in time to kick Mary Margaret’s ass and move onto the championship game between her and Killian.

“So, that friend of yours is something,” Emma observed, tossing her first set of darts and landing them with soft thunks into the felt.

“Will? Aye. He’s… he’s been a friend for quite a long time. There for me for some pain. So I choose to keep his pain-in-the-ass existence around.” His tone was light and his words sincere, but there was a weight to his expression that Emma didn’t quite understand.

He took his turn, little glints in his eye and mini-fist pumps when he hit his intended target. It was adorable, to be honest. But there was definitely something wrong and despite Will’s seeming accusations about her and her abilities to be a good friend, she wanted nothing more than to take away whatever pain he was reliving at the moment.

So she lost – yes, intentionally – and dragged him to the bar, ordering him some straight whiskey to loosen him up and hopefully to help him forget like she already was.

“Why, Swan, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” he practically purred, breaking the flirty tone with a gentle boop to her nose. “Which is usually my tactic.”

“Easy, Captain,” she joked with him, fiddling with the prosthetic ‘hook’ contraption he wore when they went out (it’s a perfect beer holder, he’d said, to which she’d responded yeah, right, you just want to play pirate).

Despite the fog of the liquor, a few facts clicked into place. He’d suffered some bad shit in his past, shit Will apparently witnessed. Killian had also lost his hand, probably in the Navy. And this town, it wasn’t far from a navy base. Could that have been his navy base? Had they inadvertently brought Killian to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

The way she never wanted to go back to her ‘hometown,’ the place she’d lived the longest and suffered the most… what if that’s how he felt here? What if she’d suggested they celebrate over the grave of whatever and whoever he lost?

God, she was a hot mess and she was dangerous, the way she sank into her pain without looking into anyone else’s.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wanted to apologize. Or something. “I’m sorry about this. Or, I guess, about whatever led to this. Or accompanied it. I’m just… I’m just sorry?”

“For the ungodly amount of liquor you’re pressuring me into drinking? Don’t worry, love, I’m a big boy.”

Ugh, the deflection. She knew that tactic well. “No, I mean this,” she said, gripping the elbow of his damaged arm. “I don’t know what happened and I’m not asking, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Not in the fault kind of way. Just the way where I wish it hadn’t happened and I know there’s pain and you didn’t deserve it. Or don’t. Currently. You know what I mean.”

“I think you’re drunk off your ass, darling.”

“Call me darling one more time and you’ll be the one on your ass.”

“So defensive, jeez,” he quipped, finishing another drink and slamming the glass back down on the table, his face melting into something a little more serious, if only for a moment. “Thank you, Swan,” he said finally, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

Her heart about stopped as his eyes bored into hers. It was much too much, the closeness, the feel of his hand, the heat of his body, the truth in his eyes, and all she wanted was to go back to teasing and laughing and strangers who didn’t have feelings or at least didn’t share them with her and why did she even bring it up, anyway? Just because Will had made her feel bad? Why shouldn’t they drink away their pain if it quieted the demons for one blessed day? Why should we have to suffer the same memories over and over when instead we could just fucking let go.

She should have just stuck to letting go.

But his intense sincerity washed away in a blink, his flirty near-pirate persona back with a vengeance. “Now, Swan, what game shall I best you at next?” His gentle caress on her cheek turned into a full grip, his fingers scrunching her face almost comically.

“Name it, Jones. You’re on.”

Turns out their little crew had signed them all up for a cornhole tournament out on the sand and Graham had called dibs on Emma as a partner, for which she was thankful. He was pretty boss at all bar games, and she had a competitive streak even without her BAC being higher than her high school GPA.

But get her drunk and she’d pretty much lie, cheat, and steal her way to bragging rights on whatever silly game they were playing.

So of course she and Graham had made it to the finals, their opponents two bikini-clad college girls who could trash talk like no other.

Which is why Emma was totally fine with the little plot she had brewing in her head.

“Graham, we need distractions here.”

“What do you mean, like have Mary Margaret set something on fire again?”

“Oh, come on. Pretty girls. Fun, happy, drunk, pretty girls. I saw them ogling you earlier so they’re probably straight. Take your shirt off. Now!”

“I always said I’d reject your advances when you inevitably tried to get me naked, Swan, but you drive a hard bargain.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but Graham did as instructed, stretching lazily and pantomiming sweat before pulling at the neck of his t-shirt and whisking it over his head.

The girls missed their next shots, and Graham had the chance to win it with this last toss and Emma was ready to bust out her victory dance just a tad prematurely.

Until the brunette untied her bikini top and let the fabric fall to her waist just as Graham was taking his shot.

He missed, of course.

Damn, these girls were good.

“Can I be of assistance?” a husky voice offered, his breath ticking her ear lobe.

Killian, of course.

“What exactly can you offer, Jones?” Graham swooped in to ask, clearly annoyed that his bare chest hadn’t yet won them the game.

“Well, Graham, Emma here assures me that you’re one ‘fine specimen of man’ but sadly to those girls you’re all talk and no action, across the beach from them, separated by this very game. I think they need something a little more… tactile.”

Killian was over-confident when he was drinking, but it’s not as if he were wrong. If she were one of those girls and Killian came up to her, with his sultry accent and his maddening smirk and the way he’d run his fingers through her long hair…

Yeah, it would work. Definitely. Yup.

“Go for it, Jones, but don’t come crying to us if they don’t take to your charms the way you want them to,” Emma warned, rolling her eyes and banishing all inappropriate thoughts of Killian Jones to the dark recesses of her mind with her knowledge of calculus and the memory of that time she walked in on Mary Margaret sucking David off in their shared kitchen back in Pittsburgh.

Killians voice alone proved distracting enough for the blonde girl to miss her shot and Graham, his ego now challenged, sank his with ease.

Emma cheered far too loud and leaped into Graham’s arms, her legs around his waist, Ruby rushing up to high five them and pass along a few more shots to keep the day rolling.

By the time the sun sank behind the bar, the ocean in front of them streaked with the deep blues and purples of twilight, Emma was well past drunk and definitely no longer thinking of any painful backstories or traumas or anything, really, but the cinnamon burn of the Fireball and the feel of Killian’s arm around her as they walked down a set of stairs to a fire pit so much like those that she’d built on the banks of the Allegheny and yet so different, the smell of the salt of the ocean and the leather of Killian’s jacket keeping her brain from connecting the present to the past.

“Jones, haven’t you ever heard you’re supposed to keep your hands to yourself in the presence of a lady?” she teased, wiggling her shoulders where he was grasping her.

“Aye, but I see no ladies here!” He chuckled and she elbowed him and he bowed his head to her ear as they stepped down the last stair. “Besides, love, what if you’d fallen and no one was there to save you?”

She rolled her eyes again, shrugging off his support now that there was no excuse for it, solid ground beneath their feet. “Oh, I’m a loud screamer. Someone would have come for me.”

“Oh, how I’d like to experience both of those things for myself…” Killian groaned, his mind of course solidly in the gutter.

Emma just laughed it off and stumbled toward the fire, joining Mary Margaret and David on a log clearly only meant for two.

Tomorrow was going to be hell, definitely more than just the echo of a hangover. But they had hotel rooms and each other and now and really those things alone made every minute of tomorrow’s inevitable headache more worth it than she could ever have fathomed in any stage of her life before this one.

[missfay49]

Sanders Sides Theory – July 3, 2019-August 16, 2019

The last side will be Aggression. Please enjoy this short essay explaining why.

 Looong post below the cut.

Premise:

Orange.  The mythical last Side needed to complete the rainbow that is C!Thomas.  According to color theory, orange signifies High Activity, Action, Impulse, and… Aggression.  But many of the sides don’t neatly fit into any of the traditional color theories. While it would complete the rainbow, their color is not going to define their trait.  So just toss that out right now.

I racked my brain to come up with another unspoken personality trait that could be considered shameful like Deceit and Remus, that C!Thomas could possibly have within him.  I actually sat on this post for more than a month because the pieces didn’t fit. But now that I’ve started to see other posts about the last Side being Anger, in the context of standing up for oneself, (Righteous Fury) I think it makes sense.  What is the literally opposite of how we view C!Thomas in these videos?  Kind, sympathetic, accepting C!Thomas?  Aggression and violence.  

Examples of Violence or Aggression in the show:

AoVD – Roman slays a dragon-witch to protect an imaginary Valerie.  Roman is considered to be acting par-for-the-course for killing the dragon-witch, and no one minds because he did it to defend someone.  

AA - Login throws a keyboard at Thomas to make a point.  

-Some kinds of violence are acceptable to society, like defeating ‘bad’ people.  Or for science.

LNTAO – Logan screams and throws a crumpled paper at Roman, hitting him in the eye.  This causes Patton and Roman to lead a full-on puppet-based theatrical production about why we need to express our feelings in healthy ways.  (Logan had to hit him in the eye, for the sake of the idiom, “an eye for an eye”.) (Also, Logan had a feeling for once, and it was anger.)

EP – Virgil throws a rock at C!Thomas and hits him in the face, but immediately feels bad about it.  

-Some kinds of violence are not acceptable.

(I’m leaving out the latest episode for a reason.)

The Sides have quietly been exploring and dealing with aggression the whole time.  This is also why Virgil, as someone trying to reform themselves, seems to actually be afraid of the yet-unknown ‘other’ Side.  He knows how bad something like that has the potential to be.  With the last episode’s reveal of Remus, he seems resigned to the fact that all the Sides will eventually come out, and he can’t control or prepare for it as much as he thought he could.  He’s scared.

Counter-Argument:

Let me stop you right there- if the other sides act out and are violent or aggressive sometimes, does that mean there needs to be a whole ‘nother side for it?  Why isn’t that just something they do?

One Side exhibiting a trait from another Side is par for the course, of course.  We were not officially introduced to Deceit until episode CLBG, but Virgil has been specifically reminding everyone not to lie since way back in AOVD, as well as several episodes that bring up instances of lying to ourselves, or denying reality: ANYOLTM, TDSOD, AOVD.  Patton, Roman, and Logan have all been caught lying since early episodes, despite us not knowing Deceit existed.  Therefore, the fact that many of them have acted aggressively in the past is a solid indicator that Aggression will be its own Side.

The Meat of the Argument – Suppression:

There are no light or dark sides, good or bad sides.  There are only those sides that C!Thomas has, or has not, already accepted are a part of him.

Being nurturing, logical, and creative (to an extent) are all sides that have been encouraged in him, and most of us, from early childhood.  Showing these traits is considered positive behavior, and conducive to functioning in society.  

There are no light or dark sides.

Meanwhile, being duplicitous or selfish, creating things that seem too dark, or having paranoid thoughts are all often dismissed or considered to be unacceptable by large swaths of people, particularly when we’re young.  As my own example, I went to a Christian pre-school in 1992-93 (I’m old, okay?).  One day while finger-painting, I drew a large green snake attacking an airplane.  Yeah, that’s right, I came up with “Snakes on a Plane”, and that’s why I included the date.  Suck it, Hollywood.  

That finger-painting was, and still is, the best depiction of an airplane I have ever produced.  I can still picture it.  I was so proud, I excitedly told my teacher exactly what was going on in the scene when she asked.  She promptly took it away and threw it in the trash, because, “Violence is wrong.”

I cried.  I hadn’t actually attacked a plane full of people, or created a real life violent snake.  I’d only thought about it and drawn a picture.  It was a compelling story for a five year old!

Suppressing ‘negative’ thoughts doesn’t help us.  Every Side only wants what’s best for C!Thomas.  Virgil wants to protect him.  Deceit wants him to be successful.  Remus wants C!Thomas to be free to express himself, without being limited by what society (or even his own wholesome viewers) might find acceptable.  

Yet, we are taught to suppress these kinds of thoughts and ideas, to deny they even exist.  But we know, because the series shows us, that even these ‘darker’ sides can be useful.  How?  

All things in moderation.

Moderation is the key.  Focusing too much on any one facet hurts us, while working towards a balance helps us.  Even our acceptable traits can hurt us when they’re taken to the extreme: Being too logical can lead to disregarding feelings and producing lower quality work, just for the sake of meeting a deadline.  Being too fanciful can cause us to get lost in a daydream when we need to take care of our responsibilities.  Being too protective of an ideal can make us blind to the way someone is trying to express themselves.  

One by one, C!Thomas has shown how each Side can be helpful to him.  And anxiety is the key, the linchpin.  Feeling stress can be a way to alert us of possible dangers, societal faux-pas, and cause us to change course to ensure a positive outcome.  This is the base human emotion, that for centuries has allowed us to conform, just a little, to stay in a group, and keep us from getting eaten by freakin’ wolves!  Anxiety is accepted as useful.

Acceptance.

Heck, Remus was introduced and (more or less) accepted in a single (long) episode!  I left out the examples of violence in his episode until now, because each and every one of them was ultimately accepted as just being a creative part of our brains that happens sometimes, unworthy of lingering on.  They do not matter.  It was immediately resolved that Remus simply can’t control or predict his imaginative outbursts, but would like to be accepted all the same because he doesn’t want C!Thomas to miss out on what could be a huge portion of his creative ability.  He’s hurt by the fact he was rejected in the first place.

So, although Deceit has not yet been accepted per se, we can fully anticipate it, and the acceptance of any remaining unknown Sides, given enough time.  And this pattern of acceptance will be their downfall.

Progression:

Why has it taken so long to get to this Side?  

When the series first started, C!Thomas’s anxiety was high.  He was just coming to accept it existed, let alone how to deal with it and turn it to his advantage.  When you feel anxious all the time, it’s incredibly difficult to ever really feel confident in yourself or what you’re doing.  We can’t stick up for ourselves if we don’t feel confident about ourselves in the first place.  

Anxiety directly inhibits Confidence.

Exactly through the act of resolving his various Sides, the Sides become more and more confident, more valid. C!Thomas grows as a person and feels more comfortable with who he is and his path.  His anxiety evolves and balances out, allowing him to feel more confident in his decision making.

The point is always to achieve balance, and accept what each Side brings to the table.  And now we’re finally at the most recent video, in which we literally come to terms with the ability to have dark thoughts without them necessarily changing our behavior in real life.  Confidence becomes okay.  He believes in his ability to make choices that are just, like in the literal courtroom conclusion.  C!Thomas MUST reach the point where he can accept that premise, because otherwise Aggression would never be palatable.  Standing up for yourself would never be possible.  He could never be confident if he was still worried about randomly committing violent acts against his will.  

In this episode, we see the result of a Virgil that has slowly been growing more confident in his role and purpose, because he and Patton demand the group just “trust us”.  But a confident Virgil is like a feedback loop into the speaker: the noise becomes stronger, more distorted, and more painful with each iteration.  When he finds himself aligned with Remus unexpectedly, his feelings of confidence sink and his doubt skyrockets.

Prediction:

Not in the next episode, but definitely coming up, C!Thomas will experience an injustice from outside forces. There will be an increased level of anxiety, in which Virgil reaches an unbearable level, and C!Thomas wonders if aggressively pursuing his goals will cause him to lose his sense of self.  He was wronged, but how far is he willing to go to right it?  Can he handle that kind of social conflict?

C!Thomas doesn’t believe in violence, sure, but he can’t let this one go, not after everything else he’s given up so far.  Roman deserves this.  He will ultimately be manipulated into tabling his Anxiety, because he feels he deserves to be successful, and he can’t afford to let fear stop him now.  

The Set Up:

With Anxiety out of the way, something changes in the others.  They feel free, more confident.  This time the choice was knowingly made to reject Virgil, instead of leaving everyone confused like it did in AA.  And at least some of them can feel justified about it, because he was getting out of control.  They’ll bring him back when it’s all over, they tell themselves.  But with Patton’s help, C!Thomas still feels one last pang of doubt.  Was it right to remove Virgil?  At this, Logan will turn on him, reasoning that the entire point of EVERYTHING was to be successful, and “now that we’re here, you’re just going to throw it all away?  For what?!  To save face with someone who doesn’t even deserve it?  To let some jerk decide what you’re capable of, for you?  This could be- IS everything we’ve been working towards!”  The set-up of him being the savior in DWIT, and feeling more confident in his status as “cool” and capable, will be his driving force.  Even Roman is on-board with this, he wants the spotlight so badly! Logan’s voice will change.  He’ll become unreasonable, emotional.  And at that point it will become clear he’s not himself.  He will hit the floor like the battery just died in his little robot puppet.  And what rises up in his place?  Well...

Aggression will appear without any fancy dress.  He will be wearing a t-shirt, possibly with some orange, or some small, hard-to-see detail indicating his trait, but will otherwise look exactly like C!Thomas does in everyday life.  This is the insidiousness of anger and violent thoughts; You can never tell, just by looking, who might act on them.

He will be an energetic, twitching mess of barely controlled excitement, looking for any outlet.  He might display potential traits for an addictive personality.  He will give clear instructions and expect to be listened to.  “Do it.  Do it, now- STOP TALKING AND D-!“

All of the increasingly extravagant costumes for each new side have just been a misdirect leading up to this exact moment; A face-to-face confrontation with the part of C!Thomas that he feels most ashamed of: actual pride in himself.  

Why?

Why would it be hard for someone to be proud of themselves?  

Already addressed in DWIT, pride is a ‘sin’.  We convince ourselves not to feel it, because the ‘right’ thing to do is accept our lot in life, to believe we don’t even deserve what we have, let alone dare to reach for more. One of the greatest struggles we face in a world where we have access to a relentless stream of information, is reconciling our position compared to others.  Every time we get a role in the play, are we taking from someone else?  Maybe we didn’t really earn that opportunity.  The act of pursuing anything non-critical to survival is juxtaposed by our sense of justice.  We struggled, so we deserve something for our efforts.  

People who have struggled hard to make something of themselves, only to find their path blocked by someone else, something outside of their control… they snap.  They reach an invisible marker in their timeline where they can choose to either be someone that always gives in, gives to others, never chooses themselves… or they can choose to stand up.  And who helps us stand up?  Deceit.  Because if we aren’t willing to stand up to that roadblock for ourselves, we rationalize that it will benefit others.  How many more people will this roadblock prevent from creating something?  From succeeding?  This isn’t just about us anymore, it’s about justice for all who come after!  It is righteous!  It is good! It’s US versus THEM!

That’s why, when we need to reject civility, anxiety has to go…

Conclusion:

Accepting Deceit is the first step. None of this works if he’s still an outlier.  With the help of Deceit, Aggression will forcibly coerce and overpower each Side in turn as they try to defend C!Thomas, insisting that he is the last, and greatest, piece of the puzzle needed to ensure C!Thomas’s success and well-being. He is self-serving and unabashedly honest about it.  The contrast will even make Deceit look more appealing:  “See?”  He mocks the Sides as they’re defeated.  “I just wanted to give you a calm, civil version of all…” waving a gloved hand, “-this.  But you wouldn’t listen and, now, here we are...”

But you wouldn’t listen.

C!Thomas will continue the pattern of acceptance, because every Side has to have some good in them, right?  If Deceit can be good, so can Aggression.  He doesn’t understand why the other Sides are being so stubborn.  They don’t know what it feels like to be rejected just for being themselves, not like Deceit and Virgil.  Like him.

Leaving us with one last, unanswered question: Who will C!Thomas be once all the Sides are revealed?

But that’s just a theory- a Game Theo- ha, just kidding.  If this turns out to be all wrong, well, it was a good mental exercise.  Hope you enjoyed. 

[gdelgiproducer]

What’s been your favorite staged version of JCS? (Non-concert)

First, a list of the staged (non-concert) versions of JCS I’ve seen: two high school productions (about which you’ll hear nothing in this post; it’s unfair to judge them in competition with pros), the closing performance of the 2000 Broadway revival, two performances of the national tour that followed said revival (one of which featured Carl Anderson as Judas and Barry Dennen – Pilate on the original album, Broadway, and in the 1973 film – as Herod), and four performances of a national tour initially billed as Ted Neeley’s “farewell” engagement in the role of Jesus. In total, discounting the number of performances of each, five productions, only three of which we will consider here.

The 2000 Broadway revival had basically all the problems of the video of the same production: I’m sure Gale Edwards is a fine director of other shows, but she missed the boat with this particular iteration of JCS. (Not having seen her original production at the Lyceum Theatre in 1996, which unfortunately never left that venue and was reportedly far better than the one that went wide, I can only comment on this version.) Her direction and the production design that accompanied it were full of the kinds of blatant, offensively obvious attempts at symbolism and subtlety that appeal only to pseudo-intellectual theater kids. In real life, there’s no such thing as obvious good vs. obvious evil (things just ain’t black and white, people), and any attempt to portray this concept on stage or in a film usually results in a hokey “comic book” product, which is kind of what the 2000 production was. 

The first thing Edwards did was draw her line in the sand. “These are the good guys, and these are the bad guys.” The overall production design played into this ‘line in the sand’ feel as well, being so plain in its intentions as to almost beat you over the head with them. There may have been some good concepts mixed in, but for a show that runs on moral ambiguity, they were very poorly executed and did damage to the piece. Some examples:

Annas and Caiaphas were devoutly “evil,” seemingly designed to inspire fear.  It’s easy to see good as so very good, and bad as so very bad; to want to have the evil in a nice little box. But it’s not that simple. As Captain Jean-Luc Picard (and now you know where my Star Trek loyalties lie, curse you!) once said, “…villains who twirl their mustaches are easy to spot. Those that clothe themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged.”  Evil isn’t always a clear and recognizable stereotype. Evil could be lurking inside anyone, maybe even in you, and you would never know. People aren’t inherently evil. Like good, it’s a role they grow and live into. And since history is basically a story of the developments and actions of humans over the ages, maybe it’s a mistake to view the characters who’ve played their parts in it so one-dimensionally. It doesn’t dismiss the evil they did, but it does allow one to understand that this potential to be good or to be evil is in everyone, and that it’s not always as simple as just doing the right thing.

Judas was an almost thoroughly unlikable prick (though Tony Vincent played him a tiny bit more sympathetically than Jerome Pradon in the video); in beating Jesus over the head with his cynicism and curt remarks, any sense of a fully three dimensional person was lost, leaving us with a total, utter dickhead. If the audience is to truly feel for Judas, and appreciate his fall, it’s imperative for them to see his positive relationship with Jesus. More importantly, it has to be readily apparent. It shouldn’t be the audience’s responsibility to assume as much. I never once saw any love, or even a hint of friendship, between Jesus and Judas in the 2000 production. Judas’ interactions with Jesus were a constant barrage of either completely in-your-face aggression, or more restrained (but still fully palpable) aggression. No hint of a conflict in him, or at least none the audience could see, and what use is a conflict or emotion if the audience isn’t privy to it?

And when not telegraphing an ultra-specific view of the story’s events, everything else about the design would’ve left a first-time viewer befogged. Young me liked the industrial, post-apocalyptic, pseudo-Gotham City atmosphere of the set. Older me still likes it (though I am firm in my opinion it works best on stage), but realizes what a mess the rest of it was. We’ve got Jesus and the apostles straight out of Rent, Roman guards that looked (with the choice of riot gear) like an army of Darth Vader clones with nightsticks substituting for light sabers, priests that practically stepped off the screen from The Matrix, a Pilate in generic neo-Nazi regalia, a Herod with showgirls and chorus boys that seemed to have visited from a flash-and-trash third-rate Vegas spectacular, a Temple full of ethnic stereotypes and a mish-mosh of dime-store criminals, and a creepy mob with a striking resemblance to The Addams Family that only popped up in the show’s darker moments. Lots of interesting ideas which might work (operative word being “might”) decently in productions of their own, all tossed in to spice up a rather bland soup. The solution to having a bunch of conflicting ideas is not to throw all of them at the wall at once; you look for a pattern to present itself, and follow it. If no pattern emerges from the ideas you have, it’s a sign you should start over.

You can see what my basic issue was: where other productions at least explored motivation, examining possibilities and presenting conflicting viewpoints for consideration, the 2000 production (when not utterly confused in its storytelling thanks to conflicting design) blatantly stated what it thought the motivation was without any room for interpretation – this is who they are, what they did, why they did it, so switch off your brain and accept what we put in front of you. Which, to me, is the total opposite of what JCS is about; it didn’t get famous for espousing that view, but for going totally against the grain of that.

The national tour at least had Carl and Barry to recommend for it the first time around, but for all the mistakes it corrected about the 2000 revival (swapping out the shady market in the Temple for a scene where stockbrokers worshiped the almighty dollar, with an electronic ticker broadcasting then-topical references to Enron, ImClone, and Viagra, among others, was a fun twist, and, for me, Barry Dennen gave the definitive performance of Herod), it introduced some confusing new ones as well:

For one, Carl – and, later, his replacement, Lawrence Clayton – looked twice the age of the other actors onstage. Granted, Christ was only 33 when this happened, but next to both Carl and Clayton, Eric Kunze (I thankfully never caught his predecessor) looked almost like a teenager. When Ted and Carl did the show in the Nineties and both were in their fifties, they were past the correct ages for their characters, but it worked – in addition to their being terrific performers and friends in real life whose chemistry was reflected onstage – because they were around the same age, so it wasn’t so glaring. Without that dynamic, the way Jesus and Judas looked together just seemed weird, and it didn’t help anyone accept their relationship.

Speaking of looking weird together, the performer playing Caiaphas – who was bald, and so unfortunately resembled a member of the Blue Man Group thanks to the color of lighting frequently focused on the priests – was enormously big and tall, while the actor in the role of Annas was extremely short. Basically, Big Guy, Little Guy in action. Every time I saw them onstage, I had to stifle the urge to laugh out loud. I’ve written a great deal about how Caiaphas and Annas are not (supposed to be) the show’s villains, but that’s still not the reaction I should have to them.

The relentlessness of pace was ridiculous. It was so fast that the show, which started at 1:40 PM, was down by 3:30 PM – and that included a 20-minute intermission. What time does that leave for any moments to be taken at all? A scene barely even ended before the next began. At the end of the Temple scene, Jesus threw all the lepers out, rolled over, and there was Mary singing the “Everything’s Alright” reprise already. How about a second to breathe for Mary to get there? Nope. How about giving Judas and Jesus two seconds’ break in the betrayal scene at Gethsemane? The guards were already grabbing Christ the minute he was kissed. I was so absolutely exhausted towards the end of the show that I was tempted to holler at the stage to please slow down for a minute. The pace didn’t allow for any moment in the show to be completed, if it was ever begun; it was just too fast to really take advantage of subtle touches and moments the actors could’ve had, and as a result, I think they were unable to build even a general emotional connection, because one certainly didn’t come across.

The cast was uniformly talented singing-wise, with excellent ranges and very accomplished voices. (In fact, the second time around, the woman understudying Mary, Darlesia Cearcy, walked away with the whole show in my opinion, and I am incredibly glad to have seen her career take off since then.) But, in addition to some being more concerned with singing the notes on the page just because they were there than imbuing them with emotion and motivation, the cast was undercut by the choices that production made with the music. For one, there’s a huge difference between singing “words and notes” and singing “lyrics and phrases.” When you have a phrase like “Ah, gentlemen, you know why we are here / We’ve not much time, and quite a problem here…” you sing the sentence, and if sometimes a word needs to be spoken, you do that. You don’t make sure you hit every single note by treating each like a “money note” (which you hit and hold as long as you can to make sure everyone hears it), dragging out the tempo to hang on to each note as long as you can. Generally, the actors were so busy making sure every note was sung – and worse, sung like a money note – that they missed the point of singing a phrase, and how to use one to their advantage. Caiaphas and Pilate were particularly egregious offenders. (I’ve never understood some of these conductors who are so concerned that every note written has to be sung. The result suffers from it.) 

And then there’s Ted’s production. Of the three, it’s the one I liked the most, but that’s not saying much when it was better by default. 

The production design was stripped-down, the set basically limited to a bridge, some steps, a stage deck with some levels, and a couple of drops (and a noose) that were “flown in.” The costumes were simple, the sound was very well-balanced, and the lighting was the icing on the cake. Combined, the story they told was clear.

The music sounded very full, considering the pit consisted of a five-piece band relying in part on orchestral samples.

Ted, for being of advanced age, was in terrific form vocally, if his acting fell back a little much on huge, obvious, emotive gestures and choices. (I love him and all, but his attempts at acting were kind of like a “Mr. Jesus” pageant, striking all the appropriate Renaissance poses. The film, through editing and close-ups, allows him a subtlety he just ain’t got onstage.)

And there were some beautiful stage pictures; for example, there was a drop with an image of a coin with Caesar’s head on it in the Temple scene, and it fell on the crowd when Jesus cleared out the riff-raff. In the leper sequence that followed, the chorus’ heads popped out of holes in the cloth, under which they undulated, pulsing to the beat, and rather than being treated as a literal mob scene, the sequence had a very dream-like effect, a mass of lost souls reaching out to Christ. It was rather like a Blake painting, with a creepy vibe in a different manner from the typical “physically overwhelm him” approach. He didn’t interact with them, didn’t even turn to look at them, until finally he whipped around with a banishing thrust of his arm, hollering “Heal yourselves!” Sometimes it was over-acted with annoying character voices (remember, I saw this four times), but when it wasn’t, the effect was chilling.

My main beef with the show was, oddly enough, on a similar line to my beef with Gale Edwards’ production: it drew lines in the sand. But in this case, it drew them with respect to Jesus’ divinity. 

As written, JCS deals with Jesus as if he were only a man, and not the Son of God. The show never suggests that Jesus isn’t divine, but neither does it reinforce the view that he is. Portrayed in detail in JCS is the mostly-unexplored human side: ecstasy and depression, trial and error, success and regret. He agonizes over his fate, is often unsure of his divinity, and rails at God. Not so in this production. Aside from “The Temple” and “Gethsemane,” there was never any room for doubt that Jesus was the mystical, magic man portrayed in the Gospels.

At the top of the show, after a fight between his followers and the Romans during the overture (a popular staging choice I’m not a real fan of, but you’ve got to do something during that moment in a fully staged version, and I understand why it’s an easy choice to make for exposition purposes), Jesus made his majestic entrance, spotlit in robes that looked whiter than Clorox bleach could produce, and raised a man from the dead. Well, where’s the room for Judas to doubt? Clearly “this talk of God is true,” we just saw it! If this guy is actually capable of performing miracles, and more than that specializes in necromancy, good luck telling him that fame has gone to his head at the expense of the message and he’s losing sight of the consequences! Try explaining to anyone that that person is “just a man”!

If that weren’t enough, Jesus went on to have a constant connection with God throughout the show, speaking to a spotlight that focused only on him and often served to distract him from anything else happening onstage, and at the end, during “John 19:41,” his body separated from the cross, which fell back into the stage, and he ascended to heaven. 

Now, though the former was admittedly played to excess (some reviewers unkindly compared Neeley to a homeless man with Bluetooth), there are arguments to be made in favor of both of these choices: a Jesus who constantly seeks a connection with God that isn’t reciprocated, searching for guidance or at least a friggin’ clue, is great foreshadowing for his eruption – and acceptance – in “Gethsemane.” As for the ascension, depending on how it’s staged, there’s room for argument that it could be interpreted more metaphorically than literally, as the moment when Jesus’ spirit is born, as Carl Anderson once put it (meaning, to me, that his message is given life and strength when his body fails him). But this production didn’t have that level of shading and layers to it, and coupled with the resurrection at the start, it defeated the rest of the story.

None of ‘em’s perfect, and I don’t think I could create the perfect one. Thus, concert.

[donnnoir]

Dallas, TX                                                                          June 30, 2019

Well Friend’s, although currently I suspect there are no readers of my crude blog.  Other than those that may have an interest from the Shadow Government’s perspective.  They always keep tabs and monitor my actions and interactions at large or singular.  An annoying fact of Life as me.  So hopefully at some point and time in the future an interested party will have numerous pages to sort through.  I am trying to get all my material under one or two roofs / forums which can and are accessible to everyone.  At least that is my hope and the intention of all this.  Granted it also allows me an outlet to vent some of my frustrations and the various events, occurrences and histories with this and more that I have Lived and experienced throughout my Life.  Now in such a spirit I am posting a electronic log entries after I arrived back in Austin TX, following the events I experienced in Southern California.  Which events culminated in my being shot twice in my left leg and subsequently ran over by an F-350 dually pick-up, running me over from toes to my head being dragged under the dual tires on the driver’s side of the vehicle.  Needless to say it was an interesting evening.  I was run over on East Anaheim St. about one hundred feet from the intersection with North Henry Ford Ave., on the south bound side of East Anaheim heading back toward Long Beach, I believe the location is still in Wilmington. With the location of my being shot some distance from there and that being approximately 325 North Lecouvreur Ave., Wilmington.  These events happened on or around the 5th of March 2018.  I was transported to St Mary’s Hospital at 1050 Linden Ave. Long Beach, CA..

The following are a series of electronic entries to an ad hoc journal at the time.  I Post this ad hoc journal in its raw form, the only editing being for the most part that of correcting some of the major spelling mistakes.  Hopefully I  have retained the jagged nature of my mind set at the time.  I freely admit that upon my return from California for the first time in my life I was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   I still have on occasions bouts associated to this PTSD.  I trust as coming events unfold and I have New Obstacles and Challenges to focus my attention and thereby forestall the elements of the Disorder.  Thus I Post this warts and all.  Without regard to its chronological or content of order. Because of this I will no doubt be covering much of the data, information and stories at a later Posting.  I will also be Posting the images of my hand written journal, as the loose leaf entries that I have adopted as my handwritten format.  Since every log or journal I have started has been stolen repeatedly.  So I now write on whatever loose leaf papers I have before me in the moment.  I hope to Post those as packaged folders Postings in their chronological order.  There is a degree of overlapping entries between this Posting and those of my handwritten entries.  Bear that in mind should you actually elect to read all of these.  Most of the entries some date and location headers.   I hope that in doing this that no seeming contradictions arise, especially since I am the source.  I welcome any inquires from any reader of my material.  Thus I submit the following:

Welcome, seems it has come to this. I am going to attempt to compose my thoughts and histories via electronic medium. My reservations must give way to practical realities. Not to mention the fact that each and every one of my previous logs / journals has been stolen from me. A immensely annoying recurring theme.

Thus I am going to try and make a virtual journal. Presumably I will augment this with the additional paper journal. Which will then be uploaded into a file of images. The hope being the combination will effectively accomplish the task. Towit that of providing a record of my life including events in the extreme. Additionally I wish to leave behind in some convoluted fashion my diverse understanding of things. By far I would consider the latter to be a far greater contribution to the brain wealth of humanity. I would like to think that should any of this writing come to light. It does so some time in the future . When the more fantastic elements can be seen in historical context. Such that what would otherwise be seen as speculative ventures into science fiction writing, will be known as simply fact. Because believe me when I say I truly wish and hope to be / will be wrong, regarding that which is to come. For a change!

Sigh… I must take a break, now. Necessity requires I consider many issues, not the least of which is where to start, and how best to proceed. Besides the fact I have not developed the requisite manual dexterity to type with my thumbs.

Monday July 2, 2018 … Killeen Texas

Sigh… damnit all to hell! I am having one of those rare days when I feel anxious, overwhelmed to the point of feeling trapped. I do not know if it is possibly PTSD related. I suppose I have to accept that as a issue with in me from now till the day I die. Regrettable not to mention humiliating for me. Granted, I suspect that the the cannabis Jade bought had a little something extra in it. So she could anesthesias more effectively giving her a reprieve from the increased infra-sound, ultrasound, microwave along with the entirety of the electromagnetic emissions I am at present enduring. I am concerned for her and her son Joey's well being. Despite her being one of the girls / operatives / victims of our government’s illegal covert initiatives know as MK Ultra. She is a bundle of contradictory issues and personalities. Your typical Golem. Her biological father is Warren Causey. He was George Bush Sr. right hand even prior to Sr becoming head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Causey was Sr's go to man for wet works and deep black bag operations. Especially if the back side had a tail which could be exploited for control of any or all parties involved. Causey is a true satanist and worse. He recently developed a rapid onset of Alzheimer’s. Not quite as sever as my own father and name sake Donald Paul Williams. But the timing of both though separate is suggestively coincidentally to events associated to me and those involved in FOXing me. I suspect brother Magnus of being petty. Grinding and hammering on old grudges. Along with becomingly increasingly punitive in operational objectives concerning breaking me to the point of my “losing” it. At which point and time my only anticipated options would be to appeal to their overview and / or full capitulation to their agendas. Thus far I have successfully thwarted their attempts. Yet it has come at an immense cost to me, across the board. Okay in anticipation that I may never acquire the journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach, California. A long walk beginning by The Queen Mary and which ultimately landed me in Salt Lake City, Utah. It is becoming increasingly incumbent that I reiterate elements I previously wrote down back then. You would think it would be a simple straightforward process. Naturally such is not the case, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which are context and my desire to avoid sounding narcissistic, or worse disillusion. Yet failing to do so will ultimately end in me portraying myself as such, even more so. Besides I really hate repeating myself, sorta a pet peeve of mine.

To the uninitiated this is going to sound ludicrous and insane. However, any comprehensive primer would require volumes of esoteric information, along with accompanying commentary and should include appropriate citations. All from tomes that are closely guarded. That I am denied access to permanently and utterly. Thus it is best to proceed directly into the matter wading through the initial convolution, realizing by degrees it will work out becoming about as clear as mudd. The luciferains according to their Canon refer to me as “The Dark One”. It is an appellation pulled directly from their actual scripture as initially iterated  to Cain from lucifer, himself.

Obviously atheist may take exception to these concepts, especially the language used. There is not much I can say in response to their misgivings. Because their beliefs lack the framework from which to attach this model. Hell most individuals beliefs also in like fashion lack similar mental framework. Yet most have allowances or the tools where with the modular architecture of their minds are able to “build out” an additional wing to the mansion in their minds which houses their understanding of “reality”. At the very least they can entertain the blueprints to an “add-on” to their mansions. Similar to the operations of our minds “cognitive consistency”. Dr Richard Alan Miller is fond of noting “I would never have seen it if I hadn’t believed it”. Or by extended reference the belief that if you have enough information to postulate a coherent question, you already have enough to know the answer. You just have to convince yourself of it. The implications are profound. Stretching into metaphysics and the issues of faith preceding the miracle(s), and even magick! All topics I have and will continue to touch upon in my ramblings. But I go too far afield of my primary focus. Simply, I am The Dark One. This is both metaphoric and literal. For the few people whose sight allows them to to clearly see into the underlying spiritual realm of our world. Because all things that “are” where first created in spirit. Elsewise they would not exist or remain lifeless sterile elemental at best. There are also at worst case possibilities, but we will forego any such dialogue for the moment. Everything we see and interact with has a corresponding spiritual aspect providing impetus to the whole. Usually the spiritual aspect even resembles the physical expression, although at times the proportions differ. A fact that I know I will touch upon in other areas as topically necessitated. Nonetheless if one was to see our spirits they much resemble the physical form of our bodies, though a bit taller (note this is a foreshadowing hint, to a vastly different topic I Will Be Addressing. At times I may interject future foreshadowing hints, though sans the extensive explanations). Depending on the scope of vision applied a person may / can see many other things. For my current model I am going to stick to issues of direct correlation to what we perceive as the physical world.

Okay, yes I do know I tend to take a long round about, seemingly loquacious manner, almost tediously so in my explanations. This is due to the fact that words are nebulous, our ability to effectively communicate was fractured becoming compromised long ago. As a consequence, for clarity's sake I find this too wordy manner necessary to minimize confusion later in the discussion. By degrees we lose our way, or perpetuate our lost condition. Therefore it is by incremental degrees I am trying to more properly realign the various skewed beliefs we all hold. It is simple geometry, trigonometry or if you prefer vector math. If your initial bearing line is off by a few degrees, as you proceed further down its vector, or direction of travel where you end up will be considerably different than you meant to be. I wish to be aptly clear as to this fact early in my shared discourses.

Back to the proximate relationship of the spirit to our physical nature / condition. Also know that our spirits are gender specific. The entirety of humanity in this expressed Creation, the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Have migrated to this plane and place from Our Heavenly Home. That being a higher plane of existence, a organized realm of Love and Light. We, being all of us from Adam, Lilithe, and Eve till the last child of Eve is born, we are they that kept our first estate. Thereby earning both our right and place to be born here in this that by our common assent / consent / agreement we agreed would be real, thus we call it reality, simple. Wherefore, this being real by our mutual assent, means by extension that our actions here shall have real consequence to our station thereby effecting our progression. Those within Our Divine Family that rebelled and failing to reconcile back into the Family are denied participation in the progression of this estate and the subsequent assignments as to which paths we are to be assigned to in our individual journeys to progress back home.  Meaning, i.e. lucifer and the one third that fell (more properly “that were cast down”) with him. At times I will refer to lucifer as lucy or louie a small affectation I have over the years grown fond of as pet names for he who would seek dominion through his lies. Know that for my part I have always viewed our existence as an ongoing extension of the war in Heaven. Even as a toddler this was simply the nature of the world, in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Lucy is playing an end game gambit. As to our day to day offenses he for the most part cares little, seldom choosing to involve himself.  As I try to tell people; we can do bad all on our own, we don’t need the devil or louie's help. Matter of fact regrettably this particular Creation is an aberration. Most Creation’s do not have a Lucifer, who refuses to repent and reconcile, and worse yet becomes Satanish.  In so doing thereby becomes completely nonredeemable. Fit only to be cast out beyond the dark realms / dimensions. So far that not even a god could ever hope to make it back to Our Heavenly Home. Heady fanciful stuff, with a touch of discordance due to conflicting superlatives, I already know. From the presumed position of our understanding as a whole it is the best I can do with our shared mythos. The presumed contradictions fade as our understanding increases. Please accept I know little, next to nothing. What little I may grasp, has been fought hard to obtain over a tumultuous lifetime.

One of the hopeful eventualities concerning our collective situation in this Creation which I try to communicate to those that appear to show potential for understanding the following idea. Is that, Once we “eventually” progress through this Creation. As our then on going progression continues through multiple future Creations we will in all probability never encounter another such circumstance / Creation wherein any of those will again be with the added burden of a Satan / Lucifer persona to add complications to our individual, group, and familial progress. Who would threaten to usurp Creation from G-d and all of us. We can do bad all on our own. We really don’t require an objective excuse or archetype on which to pin our failings. If you are acquainted with the Book of Revelations, in its pages are the clues to understanding Lucy’s actual focus / agenda for our Creation. For we are eternal beings, Children of Divine Parentage. We live through infinite eternities, progressing and striving to Perfect Ourselves unto the Image of Our Heavenly Mother and Father. Now I sound like a some traveling revivalist preacher. Might as roll out the tent and tambourines, hahaha.

Wednesday July 4, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Well happy 4th of July, U S of fucking A. Not to be cynical, but here we are celebrating another Independence Day in the Land of the Free. The irony is inescapable. Sadly too many individuals become distracted and lost in the perpetually shifting landscape of dysinformation. Yes the horrors these people revile against are very real and indefensible. Except in the losing of perspective, failing to see that these innumerable struggles are purposely being generated to engage the population to distraction. Usually these horrid distractions are set cross ways of social and cultural lines. This formulaic tactic is meant to ferment hostilities, hate and conflicts across the associated strata. This has been repeated throughout history to create wars, fracture our social structure, warp our values, and indoctrinate the population en mass with beliefs such as to reshape our view of reality shackling all of us to a diminished image and sense of self along with the entire human race. Once we accept this warped view as the archetypal potentiality of us all. We are guaranteed to sell ourselves and our brethren into slavery. In due course I will be discussing at length the geopolitical history within the framework of our limited knowledge of what we recorded since the flood. Rather what we have been permitted to know of said records. The fact that much as been redacted from the common brain trust passed on to us via academia. Those alabaster halls occupied by self appointed guardians of the approved versions of knowledge and information released to us vulgar unfortunate masses. So burdened, I shall pass this Holiday celebrating the antithesis of its traditions.

Continuing in the same vain as previously began prior to the day’s celebrations, in much the similarly convoluted fashion as before… I, The Dark One of Occultic Lore. I have been told; that I have done things no one in the history of the world has ever done previously. Personally I can only cite one quality as being demonstrative of such high praise. Though in all honesty I am more often than not being chastised for lacking focus, being lazy, acting the fool in the face of my enemies, or being cavalier in my affections, or placing myself at undue risk of life and limb, and the list goes on and on ad nauseaium.  This from the select few who know and understand who and what I am.  Those who may actually care about me, and would see me fulfill that which I have been foreordained to do whilst sojourning here. The totality of our circumstance here, now at this moment, we soon shall enter perhaps the most critical and precarious point of our history and that of this Creation.  I am all too well aware of this along with that which shall soon come to pass shortly.  This awareness, I experience across multiple vectors while being cognizant of a sea of permeations which ultimately stream toward a specific Crux in Our Familial Aggregation (I am trying to develop appropriate nomenclature – wherein I avoid certain more readily common labels or descriptors and/or appellations. Whose usage has been subverted into the double speak practiced by the various satanic and blood occultic families which run the world. Who have ritually (via trauma) conditioned and indoctrinated their acolytes, golems / victims to hear and respond to accordingly, never in a positive manner. Wherefore it is incumbent upon me whenever possible to avoid affirming these, even to the point of reinventing the ascribed nomenclature.) within this Creation. As a consequence I must stumble through idiomatic constructs, ungainly though they be. Believe me if you knew and understood the actualities ascribed to words and the double or multiple meanings applied to them within the Families. The evils, the pain, the denigration of the individuals / victims usually by those nearest them; ultimately by extension it eventually infects and corrupts societies unto the world at large.  You would weep an endless river of tears unto filling the seas, if you could see this in your minds eye properly.  As long as this perniciously malicious spiritual / familial / multi-generational / social / cultural pathogenic practice continues, our struggles will end in naught. Hence into this morass I must seek to keep my appointed task. How best to explain this? I have spent the majority of my life in the haze of denial.  Avoiding my differences.  Putting off my preparations for that which is to come.

Since approximately twenty four plus months prior to Operation Jade Helm our covert Intelligence apparati, including elements of the ruling shadow government began a concerted effort at Foxing me. The on set of Operation Jade Helm and its scope marked an exponential increase in expanded efforts against me.  Now, let me make clear Operation Jade Helm’s purpose was not solely to target me, there where many targets across the greater portion of the United States of America.  Death dealers and various squads of assassins executed / murdered an increasing number of American Citizens, most had been identified for some time to be exterminated.  Impunity seems to have become the operational by word.  The extremes demonstrated continuously since that time defy all reason. Defining the architects of this action as being criminals is almost quaint.  This level of criminal insanity goes beyond the point of being treasonous. With the majority of resource allocation comes from “military Intelligence” which then utilizes other military resources and supplies.  Thus it is that we have been duped into financing our own demise.

For purposes pursuant to their agendas, they have labeled me a domestic terrorist.  Thereby presumably justifying illegal exercises and persecution of my person.  Rationalizing by extension similar acts against my family and anyone I may care about and or Love. Death for them would be preferable to the horrors their personages have been and are being subjected. I know I sound ludicrously paranoid with delusions of grandeur in the extreme. Hahaha….  gosh how I wish, hope and pray such were the case. I make this record in defense of myself and my actions. Naturally I fear all my good intentions with their accompanying actions are for naught. I realize that upon my death as allotted to the sons of man, as to the first part, my character will be maligned in the worst manner possible.  A issue I will address at length later in this on going exposition of myself and my misadventures as they may be.

Thursday July 5, 2018.  Killeen Texas

Despite my misgivings it seems I survived all the pops and bangs of our nosiest of American Holidays. A joyous circumstance to be certain. From now till my last day of my allotted life as unto the children of men, my life hangs in the balance. The ante to live my life as it were.

My current accommodation over the past almost six weeks has been with an old flame and friend Jade Causey – Chamlee, and her 18 year old son Joey, whose given name was Freddie. Bless their souls for extending to my worn out arse a place to stay and recover. Regrettably my physical recovery is taking much longer than I anticipated. I am fully aware my expectations regarding the time necessary for a complete recovery was / were unreasonable. But I need to set the bar high to keep from being complacent. Now had my situation been inclusive of adequate financial resources I would be at least relatively close to my timetable. I would have had access to better medical, dietary, living and therapies. Hell my injuries would have been properly tended to at the hospital in my initial admittance. Instead I continued to be the object of curiosity and experimentation. With little consideration to trying to give me appropriate medical care. I have come to know what to expect, due largely to my younger brother's general attitude. Wherein he rationalizing what him and others do to me, as simply a matter of effect associated to the who and what I am. It is rationalized that if  I, Donn am this special chosen person than he/I should be able to survive everything, whatever it may be.  Because if he/I don’t than obviously he/I am not that special and thus not protected from on High.  Horrific logic used to rationalizing a growing list of atrocities committed against my person. A ugly fact of my reality, one I anticipated. What issues make this whole fucked up process unacceptable, malicious, acutely painful and unforgivingly egress is the manner by which they have targeted and used others. Especially my younger brother, father, son, Tiffany, Revaka, Heather, Angie and numerous others. They have been tortured, abused and treated as disposable commodities. All are scared and precious, some are very unique with abilities reaching into arenas not generally accepted or understood in today’s world view. Yet these individuals are denigrated, abused in some of the most deviantly sordid manners. Most are ultimately destroyed, first robbing them of their minds, bodies and in some final insult of their very souls. As it appears that they are being harvested for physical vehicles to have demons placed in their bodies. Yeah, I suppose I could say it in some sort of more politically correct parlance as “aliens” from a lower resonating dimensional reality / realm. Somehow I find that by doing so it fails to communicate the malicious evil inherent in the process. I find the old nomenclature to communicate the Truer meaning. Though some eras of our past carry their own obvious failings magnified exponentially by ignorance while fueled by misguided zealotry. They were not called the Dark Ages for nothing. Similarly different cultures, societies, periods, places and times have fallen to various abysses of Darkness. We have this false mental image of life on Our Earth proceeding in some linar fashion from primitive man (including Adam, for those of a theological inclination) struggling out of caves. Fighting against their own primitive brain / mind which was trapped in a diminished brain pan capacity from questing for fire against ignorance and superstitions. With us being the cumulative beneficiaries of this on going process. Peoples of those ancient times could not have been as intelligent as those today. Therefore they could not have grasped the concepts we do. Some of the most ridiculous fallacies of logic ever presumed to rationalizing and justify conduct or beliefs. Matter of fact the inverse is actually True. But what the fuck could I possibly know!

Sadly my frustrations are rearing their collective heads as it were in my writing. I wish I had been more diligent in securing my journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach towards Utah. I was more focused recording relavent issues in a contemporaneous fashion. Not to mention a considerable investment in explanations dealing with a variety of associated topics. Grrrrr… all I did then was walk and write. I may soon be in a recurrence of such, shortly. I can no longer abide where I am. All the more so under these conditions. Deep in my mind I am aware of happenings which require my attention. Not to mention my friend’s household is not psychologically conducive to my state of being. At least not in a healthy way, good intentions not with standing. My largest obstacle to my leaving believe it or not, is my need for acceptable footwear. Flip-flops aren’t going to cut it. Hell they are wholly inadequate to even walk just up the street a block or two. I must admit the sidewalks and streets of California were well suited for walking.

Monday July 9, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

As Pooh would be apt to say, “Oh bother”. I feel for the most part Tigger. Bouncing all about spinning, twisting, flipping… as well on my head as my tail. I am most acutely wanting to find my focus once again. My communication skills seem heavily compromised. Not that I was ever able to write as effectively as the great Nobel Laureates. Generally speaking I could at least maintain some linear cohesion in my writing.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally I am shaken.  Much as if my being was trapped in the tremors of advance Parkinson’s. In similar fashion my expressed thoughts and experiences lack focus, my abilities at lucidly articulating my larger life occurrences is choppy at best. Failure is NOT an option! No matter how I feel or how events are or may effect me, I must regain my composure and find my center. While reacquiring my skills of teaching and sharing what I have learned.  Please excuse me if I don’t edit the foregoing entries. As convoluted and murky as they may be, their relevance contemporaneously can not be diminished. Hopefully they will in due course provide a benchmark to juxtaposition future writings and notes thereby effecting a glimpse into my state of being at the time of writing.  Grrrrr…….

They have done a very good job of isolating me. All the more so, as I try to come to terms with the potential cost to those I would seek commerce with across all levels of our socioeconomic strata.  If what I endured while being the object of a Foxing protocol by our shadow government’s covert intelligence community are any indication. Anyone who associates with me, either at mine or their initiation is subject to become targeted for retribution as punishment to me. Too high a cost to blindly impart with out consideration to finding possible means of mitigation. Or at the very least terms whereby I am ultra selective with whom I interact. Along with the rationale for said interactions. Soon enough our social dependency will require I abandon all such pretext or attempts at shielding anyone from consequence. I fear that time shall be upon us/me far too soon. Perhaps I am again being exceedingly naive. My efforts are most probably for naught. An on the at large canvas of the bigger picture my presumption at damage control will only result in a larger area and impact of effect upon our society as a whole. Not that I am some savior or prophet, far from it actually. In the grander scale of things, I might best be referred to as a “wild card”.  Meaning that in any analysis of the interaction of variables, one may with a degree of certainty predict the outcome of any issue, contest, conflict even war. However should certain individuals or a very small dynamic group of individuals enter the forum. Suddenly the landscape of the matter shifts radically to the point that the original outcome no longer applies or is meaningful. We have numerous examples of such occurrences throughout our histories. Of salient import to us here in America is The Battle of Thermopylae, and the 300 Spartans. We all learned about continents in school. Did you ever notice that Europe and Asia were counted as separate despite being one land mass. The reason is that Western Culture and Asian (Oriental) Cultures being vastly different it was traditionally ascribed to them being two separate continents. We may naively presume to ridicule such a blatant indulgence as arrogance. Yet there are fundamental reasons for this error being valid. We as the heirs of Western Culture, need to understand the mythical / legendary impact of these distinctions upon our mameic memory, especially those of us of the West. From Greece to Rome, then following our Angelo – Dutch (Iberian) roots it is transmitted to us. The importance and permanent impact of the actions and sacrifice of Leonidas and 300 Free Spartans against over a 1,000,000 servile basically slaves to a potentate deemed quasi divine, carved out a legacy of Freedom which stands even today. An Epic “wild card”. There are many others, most are lost to us today. With the occasional exception that survives in our Epics, our Mythologies, our Legends. Most such stories are the blending of factual events with older religious or semi religious traditions. Which aliteration was a common and accepted means of teaching the lessons of both convanents in a factual and metaphoric means. Much the way Jesus Christ taught using parables, allegories composed to have layers of meaning dependent upon the degree of understanding had by the student. So a natural continuation of this is to be inclusive of many historical events, along with the trans literal substitution of the individuals to those of prophecy or the the Divine or Angelic intercession of some ancient history. These depending on circumstance would be iterated and reiterated in verbal traditions to be celebrated in the retelling, usually in association to particular annual festivals. Such as the case with the Saga of the Norse Kings. A subject I hope to have the opportunity to entertain at length later in my writings, scribblings. The vast majority of my ideas, concepts, models and histories can generally be attributed to greater minds than mine. As has been said before, the reason I / we can see so far is that we stand on the shoulders of giants, those that have come before us. Yes I paraphrase taking a degree of liberty. More particularly to hopefully retain its original meaning.

Funny I have been much as I am, the entirety of my life. Before I commence an in-depth sharing of many of the somewhat unique occurrences and events that have brought me to this proposition in time. I wish to clarify and reiterate some postulates. Elsewise a portion of my own records and logs may well be used against me. Principally by interests who would wish to call my lucidity and grasp of reality into question, in the hopes of indicting or coloring my character via my words. No doubt they shall do so nonetheless. I only wish that my original is sufficiently vetted in the sane understanding of reality has to be a defense to my honor and mental facilities. Thus, again – I am No prophet! Nor am I an Alien. Hahaha… Nor am I some savior! As far as religion – I will say as was told to me by what would be termed alien contactees, or more specifically those that I felt and believed we’re genuine. Of the many I personally met back in the 1970s. According to these individuals as to the subject of religion and the Bible when broached to the various aliens these contactees interacted. All the aliens responded that yes the Bible was more or less correct and that it was wholly applicable to us, our Creation, and Our G-d. I know not at all what they say on the popular shows in the media today. Hmmm,…. As to my personal religious beliefs and inclinations, I am Mormon by conversation and have been excommunicated for many more years than I care to mention. By the way my excommunication was due wholly to personal moral matters not issues of doctrine or beliefs of Faith. So if somewhere in my upfront acknowledgements, you find me wanting of naïve. Fine, do or do Not as is in you, or as is your want. I make no apologies, nor seek to compromise in some misguided attempt to achieve an accord or consensus. Rather quite to the contrary, I share, present, seeking dialogue broader than an account of the happenings surrounding my life. Simply because I am appalled by the amount of lies and disinformation being used to indoctrinate the populace. Add to this the lack of corrected and broader views from the dreadfully homogenous perspective droning from damn near every sector. The present modalities disgust me, breaking my heart such that I would to weep day and night for Our collective Family. Yet better spent are my efforts in defense of the Truth and an improved accounting of our histories and circumstances. In pursuit of same I find I must submit my private life and experiences to general scrutiny. The majority of which I have never shared with anyone prior to the last six to eight years. I have desired to live a rather conventional life, for the most part. Realizing that soon enough I will forever be denied the Joy of such.

To this end and the accompanying process I submit some of the earliest memories and events of my life and childhood. One of my earliest, if not the earliest is being in my crib prior to the age of two. My father was working for numerous government and governmental contractors at the time. Naturally I don’t recall those details. Our family had just moved to Southern California. We were living with my mother’s sister somewhere in East Los Angeles. Their home was the typical Spanish Colonial. Anyone familiar with the style and form of such. Know that hallways usually converge into a common room, you cross to the hallway leading to the room you have as your destination. In this pass through common room is where my crib was stationed. Probably the best location for it and me. So the various women could occupy my attention should I become fussy. An many times this common room was an area where the women would congregate as my recollection is. Well across this room was a pantry closet, with selves and full of the sundry items found in such for the time. In the coming and goings of my family and relatives there were numerous occasions that would find me unattended, alone in my crib. It was during one such interlude that the commencement of a reoccurring vision / dream began. I having been left alone to my own devices (parenting back in the day). When the door to the aforementioned pantry slowly opened wide. A beautiful female Golem, her physique had the appearance of red bricks. Yet the contours of her form were singularly female. Rather she had distinct curves with aquiline sculptured features. Most hauntingly she had these striking blue eyes. She never spoke a word, her eyes spoke volumes to my initially shocked mind. As the sounds of returning relatives approached, she gracefully returned from whence she came. On the first couple of occasions I witnessed this I raised a bit of a commotion. I was not yet verbal, and in all honesty I was a late talker. Well the relatives thought I might have seen a rat. So they dutifully opened the pantry to inspection. The pantry was then as it always was, with neither a rat or exquisite Lady Golem. This parade continued off and on for the majority of the our short time residing at my aunt’s house. Usually the Lady Golem had those blue blue eyes, though green and grey versions are among the visits. Each and every time she would come to the side of my crib, moving her head, or tilting (cocking) it just so. Always her eyes full of questions and disbelief. Her eyes seemed to express; You? You are the one sent? Hmmm… You don’t look like much! Look more like a little wet rodent, but who knows?. This was more or less the sentiment expressed in her eyes. Following my first encounters I became accustomed to her visits and would actually miss her on the rare occasions of absence. Needless to say from early childhood I saw the “world” differently than others around me. I also learned to accept this altered perception without fear, understanding its validity within the accepted context of what is “actual” or the “concrete” reality of our existence.

If you may recall back in the haze of school days. During various lectures the teacher's would sometimes use what is commonly referred to as an over head projector. Depending on what was being taught, it was also common practice to layer over lays. These would either complete the image or at times super impose other images as needed. Sometimes even as multiple layers of over laid transparencies. Some of you more contemporaneously educated individuals may never have seen such primitive presentations, having known only power point. For those so blessed what I describe next may be Greek to you. For the dinosaur amongst us most should have some recollection. This model is the closest I can use to illustrate how the world appeared to me growing up as a child. Usually I would see what could best be described as up to two transparencies overlapping the “real world” in general. I could even lift these overlays to get a clearer view of what was being presented before me. At times these would both be at in the foreground of “reality”, other times both would be in the background, while at other times it would be split one in front and one in back. Yet there were numerous other configurations, sometimes completely unrelated to the happenings around me (foreshadowing alert). Gradually this ocular affect of the world began to diminish till it no longer was within my field of vision. By the time I was around sixteen to seventeen years of age this effect was effectively gone. Since then I have experienced this only a handful of times. I usually take a different approach, I will address momentarily. One of the proximate results almost immediately of perceiving my world in this manner is that I usually know the scope and degree that anyone is lying. As an adult it is not quite as prominent as in my childhood. Though there have been exceptions. As a direct consequence my earliest life lesson was in due course the hypocrisy of the adults around me. Everyone would profess such devotion to “the necessity” or importance of always “speaking the Truth”. Yet I would be punished to no end for pointing out the hypocrisy of the fact the adults more often than not lied as suited them. I learned to keep such to myself. Something I still do to this day. I tend to filter or make allowances far too much now as an adult. Invariably leading to greater complications. Besides transparencies certain images or objects would “float” across my field of vision in similar transparency manner. Some of which I could not decipher any context or meaning at the time or since. To begin to place elements of this visual experience I need to explain tangent events of recent.

The advent of the Internet and the information highway is as with most such paradigms, both a blessing and a curse. Dependent largely upon the nature and supposed inclination of man. We are all no doubt familiar with the media platforms of Facebook and YouTube. Like everyone else to some degree I have had occasion to surf around doing research or simply for mindless pleasure. Back prior to Jade Helm, when my Old Lady (though she was substantially younger) Tiffany and I were keeping house in Austin, Texas. I noticed a YouTube video regarding the Apollo 20 mission. Oh by the way according to my histories the Apollo lunar missions went up to 20. I wanted to see what was been discussed along with what twists and turns the disinformation specialist spin their distractions. Which if you can determine it sometimes conclude what they are trying to hide or if their direction of spin is a “z” vector you can sight 180 degrees opposite to determine the landscape they don’t wish you to see. You may consider all this a large investment of mental energies, it is just how my mind works at times automatically. Back to the Apollo 20 video. In the video there was some general discussion of aliens, their nature and origins. During this open dialogue, there was a series of various old clips. I presume were some how removed from the archives of NASA. Many of the older non-defined clips I was quite familiar with the images. Not because I have ever seen them as photos, images, clips or video. At the time I was floored, since previous to that moment I was unacquainted with their context or related meaning. These objects I use to see in the exact same configuration and involved in the exact motions approximately forty years earlier as I was growing up. Matter of fact judging from the age of the imagery I would have to conclude I was witnessing them contemporaneously as a child. Without the context of outer space or NASA I had presumed I was watching some complex interactions of some sort of strange protozoal life from. I even remotely as concerned they had some how become infected to my cornea, so prevalent we’re the objects across my vision. So striking was their imposition upon my sight that more than four decades later their association was immediate and most assuredly certain. One less mystery to worry about. Yet the implications are troubling profoundly. Both of myself and the world at large, considering how maliciously the world's population has been lied to and manipulated. The ends of which are too shocking and horrible to ever discuss. Although in previous conversations at moments of weakness I have divulged a greater portion than may have been prudent.

Wednesday July 11, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

You may right so wish to ascribe or diagnosis me as having a form of delusions inclusive of all types of hysteria, grandeur, psychosis with severe religious obsessions. For what passes for psychiatry today within the public ledger domain, you may be correct. I would offer in defense a extensive lifetime containing a ongoing accounts of a similar or even greater note. Although I am not a Moses, peoples of another time would recognize me as being touched by The All Mighty, as it were. I will at least own any such appellation. Am I some righteous man deserving of beautification unto sainthood, I would argue Not. At best I have tried to be a descent man, who speaks the Truth as much as possible. I am burdened by an additional commitment.

Back in my youth, being around nine years old. I had a singularly profound series of visions / dreams. I repeatedly dreamt my death, accompanied by the various permeations associated to reaching same. The process took several days (nights) between three to five. Being so young I didn’t think to take particular note of the days my dreams were thus occupied. They obviously had a unique feel with a equally sensational intensity, they still abide with me today. I distinctly recall a voice of sorts coming to me following the last night of witnessing this panorama of my life's end (as are the days accorded to the sons of man). Now this voice which came unto me, I presume it was within the precincts of my mind. Not that it would have mattered greatly since I was alone when it came unto me. Nor did I think to ask from whence or whom spoke. I knew and could feel the light of our Divine Home as I heard the intent along with the presumed words. It was a simple dialogue, stating; “this is how it ends, this is what you have come to do. You need not do it. You have the right to choose. However if you are to complete this task. You must choose to do so now.”. Being a precocious and arrogant child, I immediately presumed that if I had been sent to do such, than the obvious was that I was the best candidate to accomplish the prescribed task. Armed with such infallible logic, I whole heartedly accepted my calling understanding it would come at great cost. Now granted, an understanding of the true scope or magnitude or the enormity of the cost or suffering I fully lacked. I have spent my life preparing. I have come to know that even at the prescribed time I will lack of my own what is necessary. I shall present to the task my all, trusting in Our G-d to shore me up to complete that which I would do. Subsequent to acceptance of this appointment I am to keep in the near future, my sight / vision increased. The frequency and quantity began increasing dreams, visions, revelations, transparencies along with my general perceptions increased. I now openly own the fact that I see the world through the eyes of the mystic. Only recently was my sight dampened. A heart breaking topic the occasion of which surrounds losing my Love Tiffany. The subject of which shall also be laid upon the alter for examination by the modern day augers. Find what fault if you will, I care little. Only know that matter and its accompanying are for later. I must at present attempt to continue in this established vain of thought recounting events long past in my short life. Besides the notations contemporaneous to me and my circumstances or any of the other tripe I have need to spew forth. Believe this, if I could accomplish my foreordained task without sharing, discussing or placing ultimately for public review any of this – such would be my desire. Painfully I have had to come to terms with the ugly reality I must prostrate myself to assure I am able to do what needs be done. Onward thru the fog, as it were.

Without going into specifics too much, early on I displayed another aptitude. Sometime around first to second grade. My Dear sweet mother recognized I somehow had a hand in the going ons of the other children that back then composed the group of children who had commenced to being around. Now my mother was blessed with a keen intellect. Which included the wisdom to not over think somethings. Instead wherever possible if there was a direct and simple solution to apply one's efforts to the solution. Thereby allowing life to continue on as meant. Almost elegant in its simplicity, usually quite effective in solving any problem, a quaint provincial version of Occum's Razor. Consequently the solution was simple, as she noted; “son, I don’t know what you are doing. But it is wrong. Apparently you need my help understanding that.”. There after I regularly got my hide tanned. Until sometime around the age of seven plus the realization that just because you could do something; does not mean you should. And that everyone is entitled to make their own choices. Afterwards the occasion necessitating my tanning ceased as a consequence to those particular actions. By no means did I fail to earn other occasions of corporal punishment as befits a young boy trying to find his wings, so to speak.

Growing up making my way through our education system of public schooling. I never cracked a book. Now one should not presume schools and childhood were smooth sailing. Quite to the contrary, in second grade my school in southern California labeled me “retarded”. Lacking a separate facilities or classes you were simply shoved to the back of the class with similarly challenged children. Nor did they have to test the child or give notice to the parents. Following a few weeks at the back of the class I began to demonstrate “odd” behavior. Which my always observant mother was quick to question. She went to the school and raised holy hell. In actuality it was more of a racially motivated issue. My parents being divorced, the school only saw my Hispanic mother. Being profoundly dyslexic, their initial assessment was that I was a Mexican, and you know you can not teach their kind. I was going to a all white school at time. Not to mention kindergarten in Watts. During the riots in 1965. I had to have police escorts to school. While I still have very distinct memories of the entire family sleeping in the living room with all the doors and windows blocked and barricaded against the rioting blacks. A sort of difficult time growing up. Believe me I know what racism is like. I am not going to hold my tin cup up on that lame ass subject. The fact that there are those in this country that hold onto this issues as the reasons for all their troubles. Or that there are groups and individuals who exploit this history for their enrichment. All this does is allows an ever expanding rifts in our society. The age old axiom of divide and conquer. Yet we all seem oblivious to this, instead we rush to our own deaths.

Thursday July 12, 2018,. – Killeen, Texas

Aaagh, fuck, damnit…. I fucking swear. Why do I even try to help anyone. Generally they hold to their own practices of appeasing the least common denominators by which they live. What can I say. As gracious as my hostess and her son may be. I doubt if I can tolerate much more of their dysfunctionality sans any self realization or objectivity. And they wonder about Joey meeting someone (female). I can’t imagine the woman who would find any of this manner or lack of is appealing. I try to maintain perspective because I do recognize the roots of most of the antisocial behavior. Even if it expresses its self differently than one may anticipate. I just don’t have the tolerance I usually do. In my current condition of convalescing from my injuries, makes me subject to the vagaries that define the lives of normal people. Due to the obvious singular quality of my life I have had to come to terms with the fact that I do not process anything in like manner as my peers. An before everyone thinks I am trying to sound all superior or some such, please note that I am continually making stupid mistakes principally due to my own naivety. We all have this aspect wherein we judge our circumstance and that of others from the pigeonhole perspective. Everyone else's view though differing from each other falls within a given area, or a few degrees of each other. Mine falls a extreme distance outside of what could be considered the norm. Nonetheless being very human I continue in the belief I perceive “reality” much as the other person from a similar understanding and values system. Invariably this attitude finds opportunity to smack me in my face by its differences. Each and every time I am recalled that, oh I knew better because I am fully aware of the differences and should have factored accordingly. Even now at this more venerable point in my life I find one of my biggest failings is naive belief in the character of my fellow man. Yet if my assertions as to my last day as are allotted to the sons of man be True. For the greater part I will be doing so for the entirety of Our Familial Aggregation. Even for those who seek only to cause me and those I Love and care about, harm or maliciousness. Because that is the way of things in our Creation. Soon enough the vile evil shall reveal itself, the kid gloves shall come off and life will never be this peaceful again. If it be the will of he who sent me I will seek to balance many scales of injustice. Till then I must endure and prepare as best I can.

Well enough complaining about friends who do their best given the circumstances. I appreciate all they have done on my behalf. Especially since to a large degree they grasp what potentially may be the cost. Even if in some small ways they may have been influenced by the same malicious or “Bees”, that seek to be the cause of my failure. For such is the nature of things in the abyss. Especially considering the length of time I have elected to spend wrapped in the confines of twisting throughout what we commonly refer to as “reality”. I generally feel more comfortable surrounded by its miasma and ickor than anywhere else. As much as it may appear to be a contradiction it ultimately is fact. Sigh!!!

For the time being I guess I will change the temporal focus of my entries. I can seldom stay focused on any particular time frame for an extended period. Doing so usually causes me to shift to the associated memories which become very visceral in nature. Soon it begins to become a tad overwhelming. All the more so once framed in relation to the present context. I sincerely hope that suffices and is remotely coherent. I am usually deconstructing my conceptual models and ideas into a form more acceptable to being understood. Sometimes I become lost in the process to the point I know what I mean despite the fact that the words and or syntax are nonsense. In conversation I sometimes have to stop and ask if what I have postulated or presented in the dialogue makes sense. I know it all made sense and sounded good in my head. Aaah but I can’t always presume to have effectively communicated the same.

Saturday July 14, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Well here it is the weekend, somewhere in Who-ville are working stiffs cheering at the arrival of the ritual with its time off. It has been interminably long since I have have lived a life so constrained as to include the simple Joy of a defined weekend of days off. Hell I am usually engrossed in my vocation daily. With my ever prevalent purpose always driving me. For the most part I have become unfit to be amongst civil company. Yes I am conversant. I am genial enough when in mixed groups. I tend to empathic of those around me. I genuinely give a damn as to the well being of others. Even so, the inescapable Truth is that the darkness is too imbued into my being. Because of the darkness of my spirit, I have become rolled into the ubiquitous abyss of our “reality”. Though it does not effect me quite the same as others its taint has woven into my fibers. Not being much of a liar I lack the necessary tools to hide it from general view.

Wednesday July 18, 2018  - Killeen, Texas

Well damn, I sometimes really get fucking frustrated.  At one level I am perpetually detached from the day to day focus and obsessions of everyone around me. I can’t bring my mind to focus on the general ideological concepts propagated by the geopolitical theater. Which resembles an episode of the moppet show as far as I what it appears. Are the offenses and injuries less or non-existent to my sympathies or moral indignation; not in the least. They still represent injustices and crimes which need to be effectively dealt with and hopefully the scales will balance. Even so, I just can not seem to get all worked up over these slight daily travesties. All the more so since I tend to view all these for what they are within the larger perspectives and plans of globalist / occultic families. Typical divide and conquer, or simple distractions from their primary objectives. I can appreciate everyone’s sentiments and attitudes that the scenarios of what is to come are not perceived as real or likely. Hell even I given enough distance and time begin to feel as though none of it is possibly factual. Except for the fact that I have lived a life associated to these eventualities. Even when I was in the thick of things all those involved would tell me bold faced lies as to what was occurring. As if to make me question the obvious, because the obvious Truth of the matter was outside any social norms. I guess there are those for a convenient lie is preferred to Truth too extreme to accept. I have been at this life, spending the majority of my existence living in the abyss. Which is everywhere, it co-exists with whatever social or cultural conventions occupying our realities of the moment.  It is ubiquitous yet invisible to all but those who have had the misfortune to have grown up in its mists, or the uninitiated. Due to my unique occular abilities I am sort of self initiated. It took me a little while to come to understand the meaning of this subset of our world. I have always seemed to rub against this sub culture, even as a child. A odd fact which has taken me many years to come to terms with it. Even then it was a process of educating myself to be able to grasp the entirety of the concepts. Though outrageous beyond belief, it is nonetheless part of a larger pool of knowledge I have fought long and hard to achieve. We are a phenomenal expression of life, even across the multiverse. For all our uniqueness, we are seemingly determined to trivialize who and what we are. More importantly the processes and manner whereby we are to accomplish our purpose “here”.  Truly phenomenal!!!

Yet I digress. I am simply getting on my soapbox, whipping the horse, so to speak. Grrrrr…

How best to convey some of the basics back into the discussions and open forums in our sea of opinions. A perplexing problem one that has vexed my soul for almost three decades. I suppose the real source of my reservations has principally revolved around my own reluctance to be centrist to any reintroduction in a general dialogue. Much to my consternation it is plain that to accomplish this and thereby facilitate me being able to keep my appointment in the future, I must find the where with all and means to personally become directly a part of our social dialogues. I can freely admit to my own megalomania. I try not to buy into it myself. I shan’t feed such feelings or Mali-adpted inclinations. What ever a person's tendencies, we fail our own interests in doing so. To the point of it becoming a all consuming psychosis. Our histories are replete with the villains who are consumed by base desires at the cost of all else. Not that such is my fear. Rather I prefer to do what I can from a position far from the limelight. We don’t always get to choose how best to accomplish our goals. My non-object oriented way of thinking I suppose. Aaagh, this is an area I would deeply desire some assistance. Not to mention the realities of presently being impoverished. I had best get used to my condition, I fear I shan’t know any other for some time to come. I guess I need to find the way and means to broadcast my ugly mug on to the internet. I guess I will start some YouTube type of series. I need to really get my act together!

Amazingly as we and our solar-system has traversed the apogee of its elliptical orbit with its sister star. This having occurred back in December 2012. We are now accelerating towards our sister star on the side closest to our Galactic Center. We will soon be re-entering the flows of Magick. They are part of the natural order of things. Think of it as a higher order of physics. We conveniently suppose a posture of superiority over some earlier more organic beliefs or systems of interactions within our realities. Although witchcraft, paganism, shamanism, and various other practices have been collectively maligned for associated practices related to satanistic practices (which Are very evil). In many such cases we have throughen the baby out with the bathwater. I am not trying to condemn nor make excuses, only to ask for a broader open review of these strangely different beliefs and practices.  Many times they are simply corrupted versions of our Judaeo-christian thought, beliefs and practices. Sometimes I even find missing pages of our religious histories amongst these. An to borrow a quote;  “We are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft.” - C. Lamb.

Friday July 19, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Now as to my disjointed quaint manner of writing, I am recalled of yet another quote from Webster’s,  “Prolix, Diffuse. A prolix writer delights in circumlocution, extended detail, and trifling particulars. A diffuse writer is fond of amplifying, and abounds in epithets, figures, illustrations. Diffuseness often arises from an exuberance of imagination; prolixity is generally connected with a want of it.” [1913 Webster].  As to which, my confused manner may be likened, I leave such determination to those who due to some pathological compulsions decide to continue on through the disjointed tediousness of my log.  Excuse my quoting, it but appears the best and most eloquent descriptive means external to my own critiques. Wherein Webster provides what I believe is a more accurate description of my loquacious manner and style of communication. Bleck, ugh…

On to more relevant matters. As I continue to play my game of catching up to the current state of affairs in my existence. Jumping back to around August last year, at the time I elected to take my leave of the Long Beach / Wilmington area of the LA Basin. The majority of occurrences I previously wrote down in a contemporaneous log as I walked out of LA ultimately reaching Salt Lake City, Utah. With a brief momentary stay in Las Vegas, Nevada. My mind aches at the memories from that time. Regardless, there may in the retelling be wisdom or beneficial information for myself or others. Sorry if some of this has a choppy feel to it. There are mountains of unresolved emotional context and histories, which continue to elicit extremes within me. I hate sounding apologetic from the get go. Not that any of the vacillating diminishes the importance of the material or what I endured.

In July of last year, my younger brother was arrested and placed in presumably Twin Towers downtown Los Angeles. It was involving drugs and a handgun. I saw him and the P.O.S. , earlier that night. I already knew there were going to be problems. Additionally I had been indirectly informed my situation was about to become difficult. No more niceness regarding my treatment, operational dictums were changed. Initially I was was acutely aware my younger brother was not in police custody. I figured he was being held some where on or around the federal facilities of Terminal Island in the Port of Long Beach. Later parts of my sight of his circumstances were confirmed to me, though the exact location never has been (foreshadowing). Sometime during the second week of his presumed incarceration. He digitally appeared in the system with the appropriate arrest date, and information. To this day I am not convinced of the terms and conditions accompanying this purely “staged” event. No doubt there were days he was in the Twin Towers facility. Anything else is highly suspect at best if not solely manipulated data for the purposes of the Op. Nonetheless, I was sorely put upon. Due to the determinate fact that whatever had previously as well as on going to date are the proximate results of his being “my brother”. I was aware my brother was not my brother. I later would describe the fact as, “my brother was murdered on the mesas of New Mexico 4 (5) years prior”. I freely declared the fact, even with my younger brother present. At the time of his arrest I had invested two years trying to awaken and heal his soul. During this ordeal, he was on goingly conditioned (subject to various satanic trauma assisted by ultra high technologies deployed by our Shadow Government for the purposes of mind control). I can not escape a degree of culpability. Many may seek succor in the belief that I was not responsible, nor the individual inflicting these horrors to my younger brother. I acknowledge the physical reality as being so. However the moral reality is that, We are our Brother's keeper. An for myself it has a immense literal quality. We are all part of Our Larger Familial Aggregation, what we do, say or do not effects all. While in my particular case, he is my younger brother – same Mother and Father. I have known what to expect from the future all my life. I have even attempted to convey this knowledge in abstract to my brothers. Granted I did Not know that in recent times the evil practitioners of these vile satanistic rites had made a huge technical breakthrough. It use to be, if an individual attained adulthood free of these practices or influences, then they would die free of its chains. Obviously a person could freely elect to cultivate any base desires or perverse inclinations. By “choice” being the operative mandate, those chained to the MPD / DID minds of victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) are forever robbed of any choice in the matter. Not even I can “set” them free or the chains forged in their infancy and childhoods. I can only unlock the gates and offer them the means to heal. The process is long and painful, requiring more years than anyone can live to hopefully heal. Sadly as each victim is considered chattel to the perspective heads of each “family”, who is in turn property of another. Hence there are functionally twelve Satanic Patriarchs seated at the heads of their “family”. Under Satanic Dogma they consider themselves “gods” of their worlds. According to their beliefs you exist as titled property, if not than you are of no consequence thereby you do Not exist. The worth of you and yours is less than the trash sent to the dump.

Sunday July 22, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Continuing with similar point of fact as discussed, it may all sound or would be considered linear, a straightforward affair. Appearing almost orderly, locked in some strange perverse dance. When it is anything but. Take into consideration the matter of succession. You might be inclined to infer that being Patriarchal, it is a matter of patrialinacal father to son. The reality is far from such Familial Sensibilities. Simply put, upon the death of the head of any household. He, who inherits is the male gains control of his clan by right of arms, or force. Basically if you are not yet feared enough to demand your seat as the heir to the estate. The one who rules does so because he has murdered and killed all the opposition by blood rite according to Antediluvian Law. Meaning you not only kill your opposition, the action is inclusive of all males of immediate consanguinal association. The wholesale murder also removes any potential blood retribution by those who possess an immediate claim to do so. Secondly it demonstrates to clan members at large the vicious response dissent will meet. Terror then substitutes conditioned context within their trauma-based mindset vicariously confirming that male's natural right to head that Family’s Branch of the Larger Familial Group. If you can remotely rationale order from such chaotic slaughter. You more than likely were raised under such paradigms, or your values are perversely twisted and I recommend you seek professional help from any school of thought practicing a highly structured value system, preferably based on some well established benevolent religion. Notice I qualify said using the word benevolent. Cause if you use the most liberal definition to the concepts of religion you could quietly slip satanism or luciferinism in as established religions. The distinctions are sufficient as to invite debate. One I feel is much a waste of time for all parties. Generally I ascribe it principally to a matter of semantics shackled to vastly differing modalities of operations defining values. Our time can be better spent educating ourselves up and out of overly cerebral arguments designed to trap us in artificial concepts posing as reality. A overwrought process favored by Academia in defense of entrenched theories dressed in the ideology we refer to as the “Scientific Model”.  Yes, I have great disdain for what passes for education and schools of higher learning. They have long since been co-oped into the problems they were meant to free us from being slaves. I will tuck that soapbox away now, thank you for your indulgence.

What is even more incredible is the fact that this insanity is governed by their own set laws and rules. They even have a court system with defined jurisprudence. Not any sort you or I could consider properly legal. Rather it is more a system to maintain the “status quo” based on traditions, precedence, along with a strange quasi religious tones from Antediluvian Laws. Even known lies are acceptable if left uncontested but those who have standing and recognized Familial context. Elsewise the stated lie will stand as fact, enforceable to the fullest extent to which the system can accommodate.

Now if you followed that loose explanation, allow me to attempt to give an overview of some of the semi-societal interactive relationship between myself and these psychopaths. Especially above the standing rank and file victims constituting the entirety of the Families. I have a singularly unique interactive connection to them, their Families, their politics, traditions, religious dogma, technologies of the Shadow Government, including possible contingencies for what is to come. It is a chaotic and confusing dynamic paradox. Perpetually in a state of change, in recent times there has been much difference of opinion concerning how to acknowledge or interact with me. Technically I am a nonentity, because I exist outside the direct consanguineous relationship, nor am I amenable to joining their point of view. I remain in opposition to them, their practices, beliefs to the extent of being fundamentally adversarial to “them”. It is worth noting I have been at this so long that everyone I know or deal with daily belongs to this subset of our society. Almost all my friends, associates, girlfriends or anyone else comes from some blood occultic families. Some even to what capacity they are able seek to support me in my efforts. I am alive today because some evil bastards simply decided not to do as they were instructed. Knowing full well the consequences for siding with me. Try to understand these individuals have lived corrupt malignant lives, they hate themselves but are forbidden to take their own lives. There is virtual nothing they can do to truly cause those over them to flip out or take offense. Yet they do recognize that my stumbling about is upsetting. Having run around everywhere doing what I do. I have always done so without a net, so to speak. It is a source of boarder line amazement, more particularly they think I am “bat-shit” crazy! Nonetheless I am still here. You may know people who collect body art, fashionably tattoos these days. I sometimes joke of my own collection of scars and injuries to my body. Thankfully I heal exceptionally well. Most of my scars heal to the point of being almost unnoticeable, if you did not know my histories. It is an exhausting hobby, painful too! A frequent refrain I hear while being admitted to the ER or ICU has been, “Mr Williams, you are very lucky to be alive”.  “Yeah Doc I hear that allot. Do the best you can.”.  It has become somewhat of a ongoing joke, amongst friends and family. These days those groups have become ultra thin. Another reason I make this record of events in my life including improved contemporaneous writings. We can all hope for such. Believe me if it was up to me, no one would know much if anything about me, or my life. I have been, or more correctly I have allowed myself to be forced into a dreadfully unpleasant set of circumstances, as I have whined concerning previously.

Okay Sherman set the way-back machine to the 80’s and 90’ of the last century. Seeing patterns across the country in the minds of crazy ass bitches, now I do Not mean that in a bad way. I have a immense affinity for beautiful crazy ladies. Now as I was saying, the imagery within their minds was too consistent to be coincidence. The language of our sub- conscience is imagery, archetypal, motifs, iconography, mythical, dreams, visions, will of the wisps and whimsy. I believe we all “see” much more of one another than we choose to accept. The largest hurdle to understanding is this compulsion to read or understand what we “see” before the picture is finished assembling in our minds. This tendency has been increasingly pushed into smaller and smaller bits. Which as a negative exponential inverse function has become more and more confusing as to be nigh meaningless with each subsequent reduction. Hence at a time when we should be more connected to everyone. We find increased feelings of isolation and alienation. No matter how much we communicate with our neighbors next door or abroad we have less consensus or feelings of commonality. We sequester these feeling with their accompanying anxieties, less we inadvertently offend anyone. Like what the Fuck! It is part and parcel of the Adult World. Being offended or offending others is how things get done. Usually for the best interests of everyone. Granted we should strive to be engaging to achieve our goals, short of violence or intimidation. Yet as any honest government would gladly concede. Once negotiations by normal means come to an impasse then comes negotiations by “other means”. The debased conduct of sordid persons is best met with our best foot forward, right up their ass! Like most animals, immediacy tends to be the most effective in correcting Mali-adpted conduct. Back to the horse I rode up on, hahaha.

At any rate, over the years I began to solve the underlying issues. I actually came to my own work arounds prior to fully grasping the centralized source or the impact of its implications. Years later I did begin to hear limited bits of information over the internet. Although it did take me a while before I started to correlate the “conspiracy theory” data with what I was “seeing” in women throughout the country.  Largely because few had any real coherent information. Eventually, information concerning Project MK Ultra and our government's Psy-Ops programs sufficiently surfaced to flesh out the details. As a child, young teenager I was familiar with the government’s LSD experiments for a variety of reasons, mind control being one aspect. Frankly I can not believe there are people today who do not know or refuse to believe that our government conducted such experimentation on the populace. It was just common knowledge in the circles I travel. If you read the Program Outline for MK Ultra it has an extensive list of lines of “study” information was to be explored, accumulated with a focus of deriving paradigms of control on individuals, groups, countries, cultures, and from that to the world at Large. The Globalist, New World Order, G-7, Trilateral Commission, Illuminati the individuals and their constantly shifting panorama of institutions and foundations are continually sifting beliefs and cultures in an multi-generational game of Three Card Molly. Degree by degree all the world’s various societies and Cultures have been manipulated via global misdirection with large quantities of restructuring of values and beliefs. Till everyone on Earth thinks good is bad; and bad is good. I should think we have all heard these arguments before, usually framed as the delusions of conspiracy theorist. All rather convenient as a means explaining away any descent or even an open fair discussion. Our social structure has drifted far from where we should be. Starting in 2020, everything is going to change and never be this pleasant or nice again. Well at least not till after the Second Coming. Hahaha, despite sounding …...

[astarnaut22]

Reflective journaling for summative

In the short space of 8 weeks, the path to becoming a creative technologist is indeed a long road that will always be under construction. One BCT studio project that stands out and I have applied the Kolb reflective cycle for me is the “Data Objects”. There was a lot that we had to do for this assessment and there was quiet a few hurdles that we as a group faced and I also personally faced. The whole CT experience for this is continuing and we are yet to be assessed, and there have a been a bunch of experiences that have shaped and captured the nature of a creative technologist experience to me.

The group I’m currently working with came together because we were all interested in the topic of mental health. We have been through a lot of the iteration cycle, where we have had to change the idea, see how that works, change it again or change  our object and data, the biggest experiences I’ve had with this is the constant question I usually always hear from people, “but why?” and the process of pushing my own limits as a creative technologist and as a person.

The definition of why in the Merriam Webster dictionary is “for what cause, reason, or purpose”, (“Why”, 2019). Why is this object shaped in a ball? Why is it that colour? For every why question I received, I always need to find a purpose to why this experience has occurred. With such, the objects we presented to the lecturers or the audience always hit us with the “why” question, why did we pick this, why is this coloured and so forth, to which, members in my team happily answered but they would respond with why again. I would try and piece my understanding of it and try and answer it myself.

I personally learn to just go with the flow, or just go with the things people agree on. So even if it made sense to them and didn’t make sense to me, I would eventually find my own understanding of it and learn from that. It is also quiet demoralizing personally not to have an answer to the question being asked. You sit there blank, not knowing what to say to a question you don’t have an answer for. And not asking for help, doesn’t help my situation either.

The topic we are working with, I didn’t realize would have an impact on me emotionally and mentally. Knowing quiet a few people who suffer mental health issues and each of them dealing with it in different ways, had a real emotional impact on me, making feel empathy for them and I try to understand how they feel. Knowing this many people my age can experience these is quite heavy on my heart and there is only so much I can achieve to make people aware of this. The why also had me thinking back to the roots of why I took this course to start off with. The purpose of me taking the course.

And that was to bring some creative industry back to my homeland, the Cook Islands.

But why?

Because I feel there is a need for more creative people in the Cook Islands, I want to be just one of the branches people can go into for pursuing a career in this area that will benefit them and benefit our homeland. To continue to expand and grow from anything. To be able to channel their emotions and feelings and experiences into something that benefits not only them but others as well.

Through the short period of the course so far, I have learnt that being quiet is something you can’t to just to get by, your voice as a person needs to be heard. I don’t think highly of myself personally but in this course not believing in something, especially when it’s your own idea, is an opportunity missed. In an article I was reading online, (“Mayo Clinic”, 2019) they quote:

“our own thoughts have perhaps the biggest impact on self-esteem — and these thoughts are within your control”.

I find it hard to try and not let my thoughts get the best of me and have been recently breaking out of my comfort zone, doing things I don’t normally do and I believe that the nature of this course is going beyond what you are used to and exploring new experiences. And throughout this thought process, I think of what the audience would want to experience.

Whether that’s an idea or an object, what is it the audience will feel when interacting with this object or this set of data? What will they experience? And why? For me personally, it doesn’t matter what I want them to feel, I simply give a suggestion as to how they can feel towards whatever I put out there. It’s entirely up to the audience whether they want to feel that way.

By giving the suggestion, its simply a nudge into a possible direction they could go into and many people do go in the direction a person suggest, but their will be others that go in a different direction and experience and feel something completely different. Whether that’s good or bad, its can be unexpected but it shows how certain things are perceived and is something to not be afraid of in a project.

With the data objects, we have been constantly changing the object but what we wanted as a team for the audience to feel and have an impact on hasn’t changed. This has shown me what you create as a person will have an impact on people In different ways, you cant please everyone but that is what you aim for, you aim for the project to be at its best and have the same overall effect on everyone.

Overall, I want me as a future creative technologist to expand outside of my shell. I want my voice heard more often. But why you ask? I want to benefit not only myself but by offering ideas that may not seem great as first, can be expanded on and “upgraded” even more so it can be an idea overall that will influence the audience or society even of today. You as a person are always expanding and learning new things every day, so to be forever under repair is okay. I want to be able to answer every why question with a reason or a purpose, whatever I believe as person will help me benefit for the future. The data objects have indeed been a challenge however, I simply take this as a learning experience and will grow from it.

I want people to hear what I have to say about things and agree to disagree on subjects, I am willingly open to being constantly challenged now as an individual and will ask for help when I need it the most. What I believe the nature of a creative technologist to me is always growing and always finding a reason to grow.

In an online book I was reading recently about learning, (Educational Learning, 2007) it quotes;

“When we learn, we change. We do something new or better, or we may stop doing something. Learning makes a difference”.

Although small and insignificant to you, it makes an impact and you learn from your mistakes or your success. I want to apply what I have learned and what I want to challenge myself into future projects and possibly learn to accept that every day isn’t a bad one. By speaking my ideas it allows this barrier to be overcome.

REFERENCES:

Why. (n.d.). https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/why

Does your self-esteem need a boost? (2017, July 12). https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/adult-health/in-depth/self-esteem/art-20047976

 Zull, J . E . (2007). Educational Leadership: The Art of Changing the Brain, 62 (1), 68- 72.

[neutralonketchup]

all of them. every single one

sweet and pure asks

🐰- do you believe in soul mates?

not really. I believe that people can be very similar and naturally complimentary to one another but I believe too much in people’s ability to change and not enough in fate to believe in soul mates. also I think its restricting to think that there’s one perfect person out there for you and that each person you meet could be them so you Better Not Lose Them. so yeah tl;dr No

💌- diary or journal?

Journal

✨- which fictional character (book, show, or movie) do you relate to most?

Most recently Llewyn Davis which isn’t a good thing but more generally probably any iteration of Peter Parker

💕- are you crushing on someone?

Nope, and i haven’t been for an Almost Concerning amount of time

💋- kissing in the dark or kissing in the rain?

The rain, simply because you can feasibly see whats goin on

🐝- describe your aesthetic in emojis

😴👻🍂☔️🧙🏼‍♂️

🍼- what is your favorite memory?

Not a specific memory but more a Genre of memory: summers as a like 10-13 year old, having absolutely no responsibilities or obligations, waking up to a cool breeze blowing through the window and knowing that the day is entirely truly yours. It was the most relaxing state of being and I doubt I’ll ever feel that again. More recently a few days ago me n a buncha my friends sat down and played Minecraft on a LAN server for like 7 straight hours and it’s honestly the most fun I can remember having in a long time

🌸- what is your favorite flower?

I really like lavender, but also white roses are beautiful in how delicate and pure they are, and cherry blossoms will never not take my breath away

💖- have you ever been in love?

I honestly don’t know. Possibly? The trouble with love is I don’t know if you ever know you’re in it until you’re in it.

🍰- strawberry or vanilla?

Vanilla

🍯- describe your favorite smell

The smell carried by the wind on a grey, blustery, intermittently stormy fall day. The kind of day where the only sunshine you see comes down in rays through distant breaks in the clouds and when you step outside the smell of wet leaves and winter on the way fills you with a Sense Of Power.

🎂- if you had 3 wishes, what would they be?

1. To constantly have enough money for whatever I wanted to spend it on

2. To make everyone in the world respect the Human Rights Of eachother

3. Shape-shifting

🍪- cookie dough or cookies?

Cookie dough

☕- coffee or tea?

Tea, black with cream and 3 sugars

🍃- would you rather live in a sea with mermaids or a forest with fairies?

The sea. I’ve always thought since I was a little kid that if I could live underwater I’d be the most comfortable I’d Ever Be

🍂- what’s your middle name?

Robert

💫- what is your sun, moon, and rising sign?

Libra (which is why these are all paragraphs explaining my indecisiveness), Capricorn, and Leo

🌧️- favorite thing to do on rainy days?

Curl up next to a window and read or play video games or watch a movie or do something to recharge in proximity to the storm

🍭- how tall are you?

6’ 2”

💒- which show would you want to live in?

Oh gosh most of the shows I watch take place in worlds that’d Kill Me, and that includes Galavant but imma still say Galavant cuz Swords + Singing + Dumb Comedy is an ideal way to live. Runner up is the X-files cuz I’d die but I’d die in an atmospherically pleasing way and that’s all I need.

🎄- what is your favorite holiday?

Halloween. No contest. There’s candy, a fun spooky atmosphere, good weather, and absolutely no obligation to travel home and see family

🍦- what scented candle is your favorite?

I’ve got one right now that’s called Waterfall I think that is perfect in a way I think scented candles should be which is that it makes the room smell imperceptibly good. You don’t consciously notice when it’s lit but the room smells subtly Better

🎶- favorite song right now?

Movement by Hozier

💘- 3 ways to win your heart?

The number one way is humor but I don’t mean that in a Tell Jokes kinda way I mean like you gotta be able to pick up on and run with bits with me and be able to have a back and forth so I guess it’s more creativity in general than just humor but like if you take a joke I make and run with it and send it right back my heart melts, like all my friends are So Funny I love them so much. Other than that kindness and a gentle nature because that means you’re a person I can easily be around and on top of that passion. For whatever. I know people who are super into Silent Film and Flags and Irish Poetry and all sorts of other stuff that I’m not particularly into myself but I love hearing about it because they’re all so passionate about it and they make it interesting with their own interests and Yeah

🍩- current mood?

Weirdly Alive which is strange because I’ve been sleepwalking through life for almost 6 months now

❄️- what is your favorite season?

Fall and nothing else comes close. It’s magical.

💍- your current relationship status?

Single and Staying That Way

📷- a photo of yourself

Here’s one from tonight

💅🏻- do you like being spoiled?

I mean on the level that everyone does cuz doing things for yourself sucks but tbh I can’t stand it because I can’t accept people going out of their way for me

🕊️- 3 habits you have?

1) Pacing. I do it constantly, to the point where it makes others uncomfortable

2) Whistling. It’s my brains autopilot function and probably really annoying for those around me

3) Drumming on things with my fingers

🦄- how do you perceive yourself?

Honestly Not Well. I don’t think a lot of myself. Like I think I’m smart and decently funny and like kinda attractive but I have no motivation and no marketable skills and no confidence. So basically as someone who is kinda Lost currently

🦋- how do you think others perceive you?

From what I’ve gathered, better than I do myself. People seem to think I’m funny and like a good dude to be around. But at the same time I think I’m pulled in so many different directions in my life that I’m not Overly Close with too many people so I don’t think a lot of people think they can come to me with stuff which is sad but something I’m trying to change. Also people come onto me a lot so potentially I’m Hot? Needs more research

🌈- things I find attractive in girls/guys

Well things I find attractive universally are humor, a nice smile, contagious laughter, intelligence, confidence, passion, and sorta grunge-y, indie clothes. I really like glasses. And I’m a big fan of tall lanky scruffy dudes, which I think calls for some introspection on my part as to my Image but that’s a whole different issue

🍓- one secret about yourself

I cried for 2 hours straight after watching Honey I Shrunk The Kids at age 7

🍒- how do you act when you have a crush?

Prolly really dumb. I haven’t had one (that I’ve been consciously aware of at least) for a while but I like go outta my way to talk to them and talk about them and do shit specifically to impress them and all that kinda fun stuff

💔- the reason behind your last breakup?

I’m not Emotionally Prepared to be in a relationship at this stage in my life, I’m not happy when I’m committed like that, so my last couple have been because of my own unhappiness and uncertainty

💬- what your last text message says?

My last message sent to someone was over Snapchat and was just “it’s a concern” but my latest actual Text Message was “That is understandable and I will now be turning myself in to campus police”

🎥- what show are you currently binging on?

I’m currently avoiding TV shows because if I start one I’ll HAVE to finish it asap and I can’t handle that kinda restriction on what I can watch (I’ll get around to it) but the most recent one I binged was The Haunting Of Hill House which is phenomenal please watch it

⛅- what is your morning routine?

Wake up, turn off my alarm, wake up again approximately 3-5 minutes before the start of my first class, sit up slowly cursing heavily, pull on the same pants from last night cuz my belt and wallet are still in them, throw on a sweater, brush my teeth/deodorize, put on walking music, walk to class and prepare an excuse

💗- who do you miss?

Currently not any one person specifically but most of my Theatre Friends have been Super Busy with a show for the past like 2 months straight so I haven’t seen any of them outside of class and I really miss them but the show has Ended so I’ll be seeing them more now

🥀- last time you cried?

Last week my friend asked me if I’d removed a box of old dumplings from my car that’d been there since mid January (I had not) and I burst into tears

🎁- when is your birthday?

September 29 1998

🔪- scariest/creepiest experience?

Probably the time me n my friends drove out to a Haunted Bridge in the middle of the night to “find a ghost” and we didn’t find anything but i was terrified the whole time anyways. Also the time I thought someone had broken into my home over the summer and had to Sweep and Clear with a meat cleaver

💤- date someone younger, older, or same age as you?

Close to my age, which might change as I get older and age starts to matter less but right now it’s a big deciding factor in Shared Life Experience

[seriouslyhooked]

Scoring Your Love (Part 10/?)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight. Story also on FF here and AO3 here. Banner by the wonderful @timetravelandfairytales

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days, and eventually rated M.

A/N: Hello again, friends! So as promised we finally get to the M rating in this chapter, but we also get another important check in before then. I mean come on, you didn’t think I was just going to forget about Liam, did you? Well he’ll make an appearance of sorts in this chapter, and though we’ll end in my usual fluffy place, we’re sowing some seeds of intrigue for later. Hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

In all his years playing in the professional leagues, Killian had managed the intensity and the strange schedules of a sportsman’s life better than most of his fellow teammates.

To be sure there were some more destructive habits he had formed, drinking a bit too much, surrounding himself with the kind of people who were interested just in the fame and the fortune, but on the whole he hadn’t fallen victim to the same bad moods that most other men did. Leaving home for so long and being apart from family took a toll on anybody, but Killian had never felt he was leaving too much behind. Since it was only ever Liam who he had as a given in his life, and since his brother was also his manager and as such was on the road with him more often than not, Killian didn’t feel the weight of separation.

Now, however, things were changing. One might argue it was because he was on the American circuit and his new games weren’t in enthralling places like Paris or Milan, but in small suburbs outside cities he’d never thought to see. Yet Killian knew that the real reason for the change was simpler than that. The problem was home – or rather Los Angeles – had a certain person in residence who did not get to come on these trips with him, and the more he got to know Emma Swan, the harder it was to take these jaunts out on the road for the sake of a game. It was likely crazy to feel this way, but Killian wouldn’t lie to himself. He missed Emma when he was gone, and finally he understood all that regret other more settled teammates had been feeling all these years.

It was of great comfort to him then that tonight he was back at his place in LA once more. Minutes ago he’d said goodbye to Tiny down stairs and now Killian was filled with anticipation and a need to get things going. He could do with a shower straight away, and food would probably be a good thing this time of night when he’d had none so far, but any unpacking could wait until morning. Right now Killian was hoping to speed things up as much as he could to get to Emma. He pulled out his phone and started to craft a text seeing if she was still up. It wasn’t too late yet, and he knew from their conversations this morning that she didn’t have any early morning commitments tomorrow, but he’d hate to call and disturb her if her plans had changed. Unfortunately just as he was about to press send on the text, a call came in disrupting him. A picture of his brother and Liam’s name appeared on the screen and Killian groaned at the interruption, but decided to answer in the hopes of conducting a speedy conversation.

“Liam, I’m sorry I haven’t checked in the past few days, but I’m actually just -,”

“You’re not seriously blowing me off are you, Killian?” his brother asked from where he was half a world away, and though to others it might sound a bit standoffish, Killian could sense his brother was actually in good humor. He could envision the smirk Liam had going there across the pond, and he was glad things had started to calm between them since Killian was first shipped off to the states. “It’s been a whole week at this point.”

“Aye, it’s bad form to be dodging my manager, I know,” Killian agreed.

“Ha! Your manager – I’m your brother first Killian, as you well know. Question is, what’s got you so busy. You’re ‘on a roll’ as they say over there. Stats are looking good and there’s still a buzz about you over here. But are the States so entirely exhausting that you can’t call your family?”

“Not quite,” Killian said with a smile of his own as he looked about his apartment figuring he could kill two birds with one stone. He could straighten up a bit on the off chance Emma could come here later and also touch base with his brother.

“So what is it then?” Liam asked and Killian hesitated, not because he had any shame over his relationship with Emma. On the contrary, he was thrilled that the two of them were progressing as they were. Instead his worry came from Liam’s potential reaction, and that worry was proved of merit when Liam spoke again. “Oh for fuck’s sake, tell me it’s not some woman.”

“Liam -,” Killian wanted to immediately correct his brother’s resentfulness and assure him Emma was different and unlike anyone he’d known before, but he didn’t have the chance with Liam fully blowing up at the realization.

“God, I knew this ‘new leaf’ was too good to be true! Here I am campaigning for you, working my arse off to get your image back where it needs to be for a proper team return, and you’re shagging some random American woman and throwing it all away!”

“I’m not throwing anything away. And she’s not just some woman,” Killian growled back, his hand balling into a fist and his body tightening in anger at his brother’s harsh iterations.

“Oh I bet. If you’ve glommed on to her she’s bound to be a total disaster,” Liam said haughtily. “Let me guess: she’s a great lay right? But with her sexual abilities there’s always some kind of rubbish. My bet its either a fully-stunted personality or some sort of fucked up gold-digging ambitions. Am I right?”

“No you aren’t bloody right, and I’m telling you Liam if you don’t stop talking about Emma that way you will regret it.”

“Oh Emma is it?”

“Aye, Emma,” Killian said, releasing a breath and trying to be the bigger person here. He could admit that he had made bad choices in the past, and the fall out of those choices had made Liam’s life and job no doubt more complicated. Rationally Killian knew that he was the one the burden fell on to be the bigger person, but it was difficult when his elder brother was giving in to such theatrics. They both knew Killian hadn’t been in the habit of sleeping with every eligible lady in the whole United Kingdom, that was all a part of his unearned reputation, but hashing that point out in this moment would do nothing. What needed to be said was of an entirely different nature. “I hadn’t planned to get into this just now, I was hoping to introduce the two of you when you came in a few months so you could see that she’s different. She’s everything.”

“Everything? Christ, Killian, she’s just a woman!”

“No, she’s the woman, brother,” Killian said aggressively, and then it dawned on him – this wasn’t worth his time. If Liam was coming at this with such combative, head-strong energy he was never going to listen. As such they were just moving towards a larger fight, a bigger blow out with more hurt along the way. It would be better to shut it down now and deal with the fall out later, at least that way the whole night might not be ruined and he might yet get to see Emma. “You know what, let’s just call and end to this. It’s been a long day, and I’m not interested in whatever judgment you’ve got rattling around in your brain right now. You don’t know Emma, Liam. You don’t know us together. Hell you don’t even really know me anymore. So let’s just say I’ll call you in a week, or better yet you can email me any business particulars and I’ll see you when I see you.”

Killian ended the call before Liam could respond and turned his phone on the ‘do not disturb’ setting. Was it rude? Yes, but it felt warranted under the circumstances. He didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life, and when his brother felt a little more compassionate and a little more interested in trusting Killian’s judgment they’d speak again. For now, Killian returned once more to the text he was about to send Emma only to hear a knock at the door. Now who could that be this time of night?

“Can I help you?” Killian asked as he opened the door to his apartment. A young man with a bike stood before him and the kid nodded, handing Killian a package and a tablet for a signature.

“Delivery for Jones.”

“Right. Thanks, mate,” Killian said as he accepted. He shut the door behind him and examined the parcel. He knew he hadn’t ordered anything but when he saw the return address he grinned. It was from Emma. But what could it be?

Opening it up Killian discovered it was of all things a cassette tape and an accompanying player. Thank God she’d thought to include that last part because he certainly didn’t have one, but before he could listen he had to search for a note. He found a short one attached and read it as quick as he could.

‘This song wouldn’t exist without us.’

Killian felt his pulse quickening as he maneuvered the tape out of its holder and into the player, his conversation with his brother all but forgotten. It was a Walkman style set up, something straight out of the 90s but the fun of the nostalgia was undeniable. He was already in the best mood possible by the time he had the headphones on, but then he pressed play on the tape and he was awed into something else. 

The music that came through the device and into his ears was unexpected but brilliant. It moved him in a way he truly hadn’t seen coming. This was no mixtape of throwback songs, this was something new, something bold, and something truly remarkable. Killian was certain it was one of Emma’s own compositions, and he stood there surrounded by the essence of her music trying to fathom how one person could have such talent. Too soon the song came to an end, but just as Killian was about to hit rewind to play it again Emma’s voice flittered through the air giving the name of the song, ‘Ready for You,’ and the intended scene it should go with on the series she was working on with Tiana.

Another realization dawned at that part, not just from the title, but from the purpose of the song as well. He’d been speaking with Emma on and off all week about the orchestrations she needed to work on, and one of them was the theme for one of the show’s heroines and her love interest. According to Emma the two characters (neither of which were played by Ruby) were ‘endgame,’ and he was now sworn to secrecy because no one knew of that except for Emma and Tiana. So to have Emma saying that it was their relationship that sparked this kind of music with this intended meaning… well it was just about the clearest way he could think for Emma to show him that she was in fact ready for the next step between them.

Understanding now what Emma’s intention must have been Killian moved swiftly, abandoning his original plans and throwing on his leather jacket once more. He grabbed his phone, debating as he walked to the doorway whether or not he should call Emma on the way. Such debate was not actually needed, however, because when he opened the door again he very nearly ran into the woman he was trying to get to in such a haste.

“Emma,” he declared, shocked that she would be here but so bloody grateful he couldn’t find the words.

“Hey. I was hoping you were back by now, and I got the delivery receipt for the package, but I didn’t think you would have plans already,” Emma said as she took in his appearance that was ready for departure. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll just -,”

Not wanting Emma to doubt even for a moment that he was thrilled she had come, Killian pulled her to him and kissed her out there in the hallway. He felt her wariness slip away the instant their lips met and through some sort of coordination he couldn’t actively control he maneuvered them both inside of his apartment. Words weren’t needed as he got them inside and pushed Emma against the now closed door, his body fueled by the feel of hers beneath him and the way she held on to him like she loathed the very thought of being parted. There was no space between them, no end to the passion in sight, but Killian wanted one last affirmation before they took this final plunge.

“Stay with me tonight, love,” he whispered as his mouth remained just inches from hers. He watched her eyes open, the jade color now darkened from the exchange they’d just had but they lit with the smile she shared at his request.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With her approval Killian locked the door and now the decision wasn’t one of how far to go but just exactly how to play it. He’d fantasized about this almost since their first meeting, concocted at least a hundred scenarios in his head and imagined each corner of this apartment as having some kind of potential, but the first time he was truly with Emma, Killian knew it had to be in bed. That wasn’t to say they were in any kind of rush though, and the build up, of which he was planning quite a lot, could happen anywhere she damn well pleased.

Emma, meanwhile, had no problem indicating what she wanted. She was unwilling to break away from him, kissing him surely as she had been, both of their hands roaming, leaving trails that inspired more hunger along the way. It was as if they were famished for the connection and too long denied the promise of this part of their chemistry. In no time at all Emma had managed to rid Killian of his jacket and most of the buttons on his shirt while also leading them to the living room. She was making good time, trying to tear away the layers that separated them until they were all gone, but it seemed it wasn’t fast enough, as Emma looked at him and let out a frustrated sigh of air.

“Something wrong, Swan?” Killian asked with a grin, knowing full well there was nothing the world over that could possibly be calculated as amiss when he and Emma were like this. No, her frustration was all of a sexual nature, and he watched as his words, rough from the need he had for her, washed over her skin and sent a shiver through her.

“This is taking too long,” she said with what might have been considered a pout and Killian chuckled as they moved in through the kitchen and come up against the counter. Then he surprised her by spinning her in his embrace and coming right up behind her, his hands clasped on her waist to pull her back. 

Killian pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder, his lips trailing down from her ear lobe and lower, finding a spot at her neck he’d noticed that she was sensitive at before. He took slow, torturous care of riling her up in a way that had her wanting all the more, his hands moving across the delicate dress that clung to her figure. He knew in his heart she’d worn this for him, in the hopes of pushing things further tonight, and he had no more ability to resist. This scrap of red silk was beautiful, but it couldn’t compare to the woman underneath and Killian was ready to reveal his prize. He unzipped it with just enough patience to tease them both and then he let the garment fall as he pushed the straps off her bared shoulders.

“We have all night, Emma,” he assured her as his fingertips traced her now mostly naked flesh. “And far longer too, as you well know.”

Killian watched the harsh swallow that came at his words, but Emma wasn’t running from his actions or his words. Instead she turned back around in his arms and took control back once more, pulling him in for another needy kiss that he caved into immediately. So much for slowing this down, Killian thought to himself. Now Emma was even more set on finding release, and he was right there with her. 

“I know we have time,” Emma said when they came up for air again and her eyes locked on his, her hand trailing down to the button of his slacks, grazing down his bare chest and abs in the process and making his already undeniable ache to have her grow. “And trust me, I’m happy for it. But we’ve already waited so long… I don’t think I can stand to wait anymore. I need you, Killian. I need you now.”

What more was there to say? When the woman he loved made her wants and wishes known it was Killian’s job to see to it that he did everything he could to procure them for her. It was in no way a hardship given how much he wanted her as well, and besides, they could have the slow and steady seduction he’d anticipated later. Far, far later after he’d wrung out every last drop of passion from her tonight.

They hurried back to his room, both of them of the same mind this time and now words weren’t needed any more. Their remaining clothes were stripped away, and by the time they’d hit the bed they were both beyond rational planning or design. This was pure instinct, and all Killian could think was that he had to make her come, had to satisfy every last desire his Swan could have. He knew he was on his way to accomplishing that as he moved above her, his lips tracing down her body past the tender peaks of her breasts, over the gentle swell of her stomach, and down to the space between her thighs that had been driving him mad for weeks.

“Killian.”

Emma said his name not in warning or in censure but as a sigh of need. His eyes flicked back up to hers and he saw the nearly wild appearance that had settled in them. Lust had consumed her, and Killian had known as much without even looking. Every sound, every movement that came from Emma told him exactly what she wanted, and he was nothing if not persistent when it came to reading the signs. Because of this he knew that even as she pleaded for him to sate her desire immediately, she actually wanted just a touch more anticipation. He bit lightly at her inner thigh, feeling her jump and then shake underneath the soothing of his tongue after. He did the same thing to the other side, moving closer to her sex, and only after a few more heartbeats did he give in, tasting her on his tongue as she let herself go to the sensations.

It was an out of body experience to know he was giving Emma so much all at once. Nothing could compare to it, and he didn’t even think to try and draw connections. This was already so much more than a simple shag; it was intimacy designed with meaning and with purpose. Every flick of his tongue, every suck, every kiss, was all done in the name of seeing Emma reach heaven itself, but when she finally fell into the ecstasy she was seeking it was Killian who was flush with fulfillment. It became clear that this was rapidly becoming an addiction, and as he kissed his way back up her body and came above her, looking at the pink that had crept into her cheeks and the satisfaction that swam about her gaze, Killian realized there would be no coming back from Emma Swan. This woman had run away with his heart completely and he was fundamentally changed from knowing and loving her.

Their tender moment was short lived however, for Emma had sacrificed none of her energy in finding her enjoyment. Indeed she surprised him, switching their positions and undertaking a perusal of her own that left him reeling. Damn she was a siren, a bloody minx who was hell bent on riling him to a state that would be unforgiveable, but how could he blamed when she had her mouth on him? It was sublime and indescribable, but when he was just at the edge of falling apart himself he stopped her and took back the reins once more. The time for waiting was over. All he could think about was filling her, sheathing himself inside her and never turning back.

“Fuck,” he grunted to himself as he paused just before taking what they both wanted.

“That’s kind of the idea,” Emma said with a laugh that turned into a slight moan from her still lingering desire. “What’s the hold up here, Jones?”

“I left the condoms on the counter. Just a minute, love.” He moved to get them but Emma held tighter and shook her head.

“You don’t have to. I’m on the pill.”

Holy shit, he didn’t know what to say to that and his hard length jerked at the words. The thought of being with Emma without a barrier was enough to drive him mad. If things were already blindingly glorious between them, what indescribable ecstasy would be procured from taking her bare?

“Are you sure, Emma? I’m clean of course. Just had my physicals with the new team doctors, and I’ve never actually gone without…”

“Me either,” Emma replied softly as her hand came to brush some of his hair from his forehead. “But I want to. With you.”

Since that want was of a fully mutual variety Killian offered no rebuttal, only giving in and taking what they both were craving so desperately. The moment he filled her was too fantastic to put to words, and he could have stayed there forever if Emma hadn’t begged him to move. The rhythm they set was perfection itself, crafted from a bond needed between two people that couldn’t ever be contrived. It made the claims of stories and fairytales, the ones about soul mates and perfect matches seem a little more realistic, for surely this could never be this way with another. This love he felt for Emma was cosmic, causing a shift Killian swore he could feel down to his bones, but when it came to an end and they both cried out in relief, it was the aftermath that truly took his breath away.

Holding onto Emma and having her in his arms cuddled beside him was a luxury he knew she rarely bestowed on others. Emma was guarded, cautious, and careful with her heart. She had been wary at the start, and with good reason, but as weeks went on Emma admitted that getting close to people always scared her. Truth be told Killian had often felt the same way. Love was a means of getting hurt, a fanciful notion that distracted from the game and never worked out in the end, but his old cynical notions of love no longer held water. For in this moment there was no way to deny what was between them. Tonight both Emma and Killian had shed the last pieces of doubt and of caution, and now they were truly in this together.

“So that was…” Emma paused as her fingers traced over his chest and a smile bloomed upon her lips. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

“On that we most certainly agree, love,” Killian said happily, seeing the call of sleep washing over Emma and feeling a similar tug into slumber himself.

“And I’m waking you up in a few hours for more,” she joked with a yawn. “You promised, no more waiting.”

“Aye, Swan. No more waiting. Not any more.”

He pressed a final kiss to the crown of her head, and a few moments later, as sleep finally claimed them both, Killian fell asleep smiling, knowing that life held so much promise now that he had Emma. And no matter what came next, and no matter where their paths might lead, Killian would do whatever it took to keep them like this – happy, connected, and together – for now and for always.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Another chapter come and gone and we find our couple just about in the happiest spot they can be. Rest assured this story, like all my stories so far, intends to give CS truly happy situations, and while there will be some bumps in the road ahead, it’s smooth sailing for the time being. Anyway I thank you all so much for reading, commenting, and messaging me! Your enthusiasm has been wonderful and I love hearing your thoughts. Hope you have a great rest of your weekend and thanks for being fabulous!

[geneticandunattainable]

We’ve finally come to the top ten songs of 2017, and it’s been quite a ride.  My apologies for the delay in getting these published, but I remain convinced these next ten songs are well worth the wait.  Surprising no one, women dominate the top of this year’s list, with seven of the top ten songs featuring or led by female artists.  A surprise to many, including myself, is that four of the ten songs also come from artists with ties to North Carolina.  It would not have been possible for me to survive 2017 without these songs, and I’ve listened to all of them hundreds of times. You may have different reactions to this batch, but I have a hunch you’re going to be blown away.

10. Now, Now – “SGL” Minnesota is underrated as an incubator for music, but Now, Now is an exciting duo coming out of Minneapolis.  Cacie Dalager handles the vocals, guitar, and keyboard, while Bradley Hale focuses on the drums and backing vocals, but this is just the latest iteration of a band that’s been around for fifteen years.  Dalager and Hale famously met as classmates in high school marching band, but the sound on this record is light years beyond the work of teenagers.  They hadn’t released any new material in five years before last May, so music blogs were excited to have this slice of musical brilliance come out of nowhere.  “SGL” was a burst of fresh air right in time for summer last year, and it’s pop music at its absolute purest.  This is the kind of music that gets your heart pumping, music that’s meant for summers at the lake or bonfires on the beach.  The acronym from the title refers to “Shotgun Lover,” and has nothing do with marriage or firearms; Dalager is looking to put some heat on a relationship that started off as a simple fling.  Many of the elements on display here likely come across as familiar, like the clipped acoustic guitar progression, the slowly-building layers of atmospheric effects, and the subtle vocal manipulations. But when the drums kick in and she hits the chorus, you can’t help but find yourself swept along for the ride - perhaps sitting shotgun?  

9. K. Flay – “Blood in the Cut” Talk about the unlikeliest path to music - rapper/artist K. Flay started life as Kristine Meredith Flaherty in Wilmette, Illinois, a wealthy commuter suburb of Chicago before heading off to Stanford for undergrad.  While she was there, Flaherty cracked a joke to a classmate about how the hip hop songs she heard on the radio were all "simplistic, misogynistic and formulaic,” and that she could easily write similar songs without any issue.  Once she got on stage, she realized that she really enjoyed performing, and started shifting toward a full-time focus on music.  She’s been releasing music for years, but my favorite track by far has to be “Blood in the Cut” from last year’s Every Where Is Some Where.  Featured prominently during the end titles of a season four Bojack Horseman episode, the menacing lyrics practically growl at the audience, and there’s an incredibly cinematic tone to the entire song.  This track doesn’t sound it was crafted for television, but there’s a drama inherent in Flay’s lyrics - “Say a word, do it soon/It’s too quiet in this room” - show the boiling tension inherent in her vocals.  Every chorus is such a release, but she builds that tension to a raucous ending that captures you, heart and soul.  This is an angst anthem, a textbook entry for your workout playlist, and one of the best damn songs in years.

8. Sylvan Esso – “Die Young” When you grow up in North Carolina, you have a special place in your heart for artists from the home of Cook Out and Cheerwine.  This duo from Durham consists of Amelia Meath and Nick Sanborn, and they took over my phone, my car, and my brain this year with “Die Young,” an epically lush tribute to unexpected love.  As Meath coos in the lyrics, she had “it all planned/You ruined it completely;”  you see, she was going to die young in a blaze of glory so people would remember her forever.  Now that she’s fallen in love, her next chapter has been replaced and she wants more time with her partner rather than become a member of the 27 Club.  Make no mistake, Meath has written a love song, but there’s a funereal quality to the proceedings that syncs up flawlessly with the detached, synth-heavy production from Sanbord.  The looped samples work so well with the moody keyboards over the chorus, and you know I’m a sucker for a song that builds to a truly cathartic bridge.  At no point does “Die Young” disappoint; it’s the kind of instant classic that feels familiar the first time you hear it.  If Kesha hadn’t placed higher on my list, I’d make a snide comment about her own song “Die Young” being left in the dust.  If you’ve known me long enough, you know the thought remains regardless.  Ten years from now, we’ll still be listening to this haunting Southern banger.

7. Sampha – “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” If you’re going to make a long-awaited debut, you might as well lead with a hauntingly gorgeous song like this. London-based musician Sampha built his career for years behind the scenes as a producer, songwriter, and backing vocalist for artists like Kanye and Jessie Ware.  As he shifted toward fronting his own music, he sat down to craft an ode to the power of music itself, and knocked it out of the goddamn park.  There’s an entire narrative at work here, as Sampha spills his heart out about using music - and his mother’s piano specifically - to navigate through tough times.  As the song progresses, beyond the austere keys and euphonious vocals, a low key beat emerges, and he shifts into subtle electronic tinges, eventually closing out the song with the sounds of birds chirping in the forest.  Clearly he’s using the song to step into the spotlight, so to speak, but I think it’s more than that; this song brings peace, serenity, and a calming nature unlike anything I’m used to hearing.  What an amazing accomplishment.

6. Kesha – “Praying” I’m not exactly one to drop names, but I was living in Nashville around the same time as Kesha, as she grew up in the suburbs of Music City.  I’d heard some not so pleasant rumors about her behavior and the way she treated other people in the local scene, so when her debut single “Tik Tok” took over the world, I made a decision to sit her career out. I simply couldn’t understand why such a strong and intelligent woman - she was accepted to Barnard, people - was singing about getting black out at a club with the truly misogynist 3OH!3.  My heart went out to her when she sued Dr. Luke, though, and I quickly became riveted with the story.  As a fellow survivor of sexual assault, I found myself rooting for Kesha and eagerly anticipating new music.  While her latest album Rainbow was scattered, it could brag some absolute jams with “Woman” and “Learn to Let Go.”  That said, few songs in 2017 had the emotional impact for me of “Praying.”  This Grammy-nominated lesson in forgiveness is blistering, still bringing me to tears after hundreds of listens.  Kesha knows how to write her own songs, and it’s a thoroughly documented fact she’s been doing it for other artists for more than a decade.  That killer lyrical mind is on display here, too, but the background leading up to the song and the vulnerability on display here is nearly too much to handle.  I’ve heard mixed reviews of that whistle note, but you’re a total robot if you don’t respond when those drums kick in about two thirds of the way through “Praying.”  2017 was a year we’re all desperate to forget, but I’ll leave you with this: consider listening to “Praying” again, but imagine it’s Hillary Rodham Clinton delivering those lyrics instead.  I dare you not to weep.

5. Rhiannon Giddens – “At the Purchaser’s Option” Who knew that a guest star from Nashville was going to release one of the best songs from last year?  Even more surprising?  It’s a heart-wrenching tale of a slave woman’s refusal to fall apart in the face of some truly traumatic experiences.  For Giddens, an alumna of Oberlin’s Conservatory of Music, the Carolina Chocolate Drops, and the New Basement Tapes, it’s never really been a question of whether she has the talent.  At the ripe young age of 41, she’s already been inducted into the North Carolina Hall of Fame.  Some of us have been following her career for years, and were just waiting for that one break out song.  In a more ideal world, this exquisite nod to slave songs would have resulted in massive recognition for Giddens.  According to Giddens herself, the song comes from reading an advertisement for a 22-year-old slave woman, whose 9 month old baby comes with her “at the purchaser’s option.”  Her reaction to something so ghastly inspired her to write the song.  She recounts the life of a woman abused by the world of slavery who refuses to lose her soul in the process.  Again, for those of us who listen to the lyrics, she takes you through some heavy shit, including the rape of a young child.  If you’re one of those people who doesn’t really notice lyrics, though, there’s still plenty to love.  Guitar, banjo, percussion, vocals - everything is at the top of the game here.  In a song that could have easily been a theme for Lupita N’Yongo’s Patsy from 12 Years a Slave, Giddens proves she’s an artist that wants her career to mean something.  She’s already earned such an incredible legacy, and “At the Purchaser’s Option” shows she’s just getting started.

4. Rostam – “Gwan” It’s no secret to anyone who read these lists in years past that I have a massive crush on Rostam Batmanglij.  You may not agree that he’s a handsome fella, but I don’t really care, because so much of my crush originates in his musical genius.  Rostam’s career - starting as a core member of Vampire Weekend and moving on to producing artists like Carly Rae Jepsen or collaborating with Hamilton Leithauser - has been nothing short of phenomenal.  It almost seems like the man cannot stumble.  “Gwan” feels like a song that cannot be classified; some people hear Irish influences in the second half’s string breakdown, while others swear he’s alluding to more Eastern sources.  The Iranian-American artist, born in the D.C. area, has intentionally alluded to various cultures throughout his career.  As long as his music sounds this gorgeous, I have no horse in the race when it comes to the cultures he’s referencing.  Rostam’s lyrics reference an unspeakable connection, a relationship that defies explanation.  Ever since I first heard this song, it’s made me think of my best friend.  It certainly doesn’t hurt that said friend lives in New York, given the obvious Manhattan references in Rostam’s lyrics.  “Gwan” could be the soundtrack to a cinematic montage, it could be the first dance at a wedding, or it could accompany you for a walk downtown.  Regardless of how it infiltrates someone’s life, there’s little argument to be had here that Rostam remains at the absolute top of his game.

3. Kate Rhudy – “I Don’t Think You’re An Angel (Anymore)” Just because the top ten has a third act from North Carolina doesn’t mean I’m playing favorites here.  Kate Rhudy is only starting her career with the album Rock N’ Roll Ain’t For Me, but you wouldn’t be able to tell when you listen to this stunning track off of her debut.  She’s a recent graduate of Appalachian State University in Boone, a town known for its particularly crunchy hippie scene.  Despite the psychedelic tinges that signal the local sound, Kate stayed true to her roots, describing her own music as “sad river folk.”  People seem awed by the fact that Taylor Swift writes some of her own songs, but I prefer an artist who can write her own songs, sing them well, and even accompany herself on an instrument or two.  Rhudy puts Swift to shame with a slowed down Southern ballad about losing trust in your partner.  Do you want crystal clear vocals? Check.  How about a truly beautiful showcase for guitars and mandolin? She’s got that, too.  The entire album is jaw dropping as a debut, but “Angel” buries itself within you, it burrows deep into your soul in a way that few songs do.  As Rhudy herself has said about folk music, “It’s music that’s meant to be felt, not heard.”  She’s clearly accomplished that goal with this achingly bewitching song; in a weaker year, it easily could have been the best song overall.  For now, though, it will have to settle for years of inclusion on my favorite playlists.

2. Rose Cousins – “Freedom” Canada strikes again.  I have a deep-seated love for Canada that stretches back for eons, but I never really expected to find the Great White North’s answer to Patty Griffin.  Rose Cousins, who calls Halifax, Nova Scotia home, has a more soothing voice than Griffin, if not quite as distinctive. Her songwriting skills, though, are evidently on par with the folk/Americana legend, and I find myself blown away by the sheer scope of what Cousins has achieved with “Freedom.”  Every moment that you think you have your head wrapped around this song, it shifts from beneath you, transforming in real time.  It shifts from a slow tempo acoustic jam to a raucous breakdown, from Cousins’ lower register to true vocal fireworks.  She’s always been known for her clear-eyed melodies and the poetry of her lyrics, but I find “Freedom” to be a new height in her achievements.  It’s about the double-edged sword called choice that we navigate all too often, as she realized in a relationship, we often must give something up to achieve what we truly want.  Whether that means compromise, or leaving something behind entirely, the lyrics here are enthralling: “Well I pride myself in letting go/I'm better off and stronger alone/I've got my freedom from choices made/And freedom from being brave/Freedom.”  Yet her tone throughout is bittersweet.  I can acknowledge with far too much experience of my own that being on your own can vacillate between crushing loneliness and exhilarating levels of autonomy.  What Cousins has achieved here is a song that speaks to both sides of that coin at the same time.  There is acceptance here; acceptance that your choices have consequences, and that you’ll likely be fine in the long run anyway.

1. Ryan Adams – “To Be Without You” There are few memories from last year that I cherish more than the 14 hours or so I spent in Nashville on my cross-country move from Houston to Boston.  I was so excited to catch up with my good friend Maggie over sweet tea and queso at SATCo, and felt right at home in the town of my graduate school alma mater.  It had been far too long, and one of the most vivid parts I remember is pulling away from Maggie’s house the next morning. Facing down a stretch of winding mountain roads and another ten or eleven hours on the way to Richmond, I thought about my soundtrack.  With a cool, foggy November morning soaking my bones, I put on the one man I knew could keep me company over the next several hours of driving through autumnal Tennessee: Ryan Adams.  There’s something truly incredible about his consistency; the man’s released over a dozen albums, whether it’s solo work or paired with groups like the Cardinals or Whiskeytown.  His latest album follows quickly on the heels of 2015’s full-album cover of 1989 and his eponymous album in 2014, completing an arc of sorts with Prisoner’s clear 80s inspiration.  It was easily one of the year’s best LPs, and Adams’s first album of original material to follow his publicly painful divorce with actress Mandy Moore.  Without a doubt, “To Be Without You” jumped out of the speakers on my first listen back in February.  The song is deceptively uptempo since the lyrics are heartbreaking, leaning into the despair Adams felt after the dissolution of his marriage.  His arrangement is relatively subdued and radio friendly, utilizing guitar, percussion, and little else to focus on the true heart of the song: his pain.  “I feel empty/I feel tired/I feel worn/And nothing really matters anymore” are not the lyrics you’d expect from a song so melodious, but Adams is an expert at crafting songs and subverting expectations at this point in his career.  “I think the theme of this record is that we’re all prisoners of some desires, in that the very things we love are the things that hold us hostage and keep us trapped,” he told NME. “Either we are the cage or we’re in the cage and it’s trying to figure out in every situation which of those things is real.”  The themes work perfectly for life, love, and surviving 2017, and he created another instant classic with “To Be Without You.”  Hundreds of listens later, I still get completely sucked into it; clearly, that’s the true mark of the best song of the year.

[hidetothink]

holy shit, how can this person not realize how incredibly bullshit this entire argument is? it's literally the green eggs and ham story, but with rape. you can say the story is cute because in the end they like it, but that's food. to continually badger someone over what circumstance they'd change their no to a yes in regards to sex is definition rape culture. they're hoping to wear you down enough that you'll eventually say yes and try what you're uncomfortable with, exactly like rapists.

And the fact it's my longtime friend makes it even more frustrating and hurtfulBest quotes include:"hormones are also able to alter preferences, and as such sexuality will forever be fluid. There are further contexts to that, such as nurture, brain chemistry, and the like, and it certainly cant be changed willingly due to the complexity of an individual, but many folks find their identity alter as they go forward."So I guess reparative therapy doesn't work because you FORCE it, but if you just keep an open mind it'll maybe happen on its own ;)"Sometimes alterations are so small or infrequent that statistically they are irrelevant, and for those folks we classify them as "monosexual". largely because as humans we love categories, and they facilitate understanding. But it is imperative to not perfectly remove possibility on a technical scale, but only on a semantic scale."A lot of his argument through the whole exchange was that: you can't technically say something couldn't ever happen to your attractions. Monosexuals don't exist because they say they could never be attracted to a certain group and that's just not technically correct."Sure, sexual compatibility is important, but that is interpersonal, not categorical. Not all transguys have femme features at all. Some even might have been born with butch genetalia."Wtf is butch genitalia my guy. There are words for organs. Why are you being like this. Oh and attraction can't be categorical...I guess?"But attraction to a person has been shown to allow for variance in what we deem "what we want"...."Emotions fuck with us my guy. But to re-iterate the point of this: accepting the possibility is not accepting responsibility to pursue it."What if you found a female you REALLY LIKED!? Emotions will make you stop being gay, you silly monosexuals. "Finally, you seem to equate criticism of your stance as equal to criticism of your identity, and that needs to be removed."I like to say that homosexuals are silly for saying they can't like the opposite sex too, but I don't like that you get offended =["Consent is the right in question, and consent is based off of individual evaluation, the trend of which is documented as orientation. Past patterns predict, but do not rule, future engagements."Sure, something MAY have been true and proven yesterday, but it's quite silly to assume it will ALWAYS be true. Silly monosexuals. ;)"You lose the right (to deny access to myself to any and all females) when broad categories are used, akin to racial preference. On an individual basis, you have every right."You can say individual women just aren't your type, but it's rude to say NO woman couldn't make you hot and bothered silly gay man ;) I would know as a pansexual ;)(Responding to the claim that homophobia is based on a hatred of same sex attraction and intimacy) "In a general sense, to the uninformed"He has yet to explain what he things homophobia IS based in if not on the hate of homosexuality =\"Literally just adjust your meaning of exclusive to the semantic meaning. Because on a technical level i could develop an attraction to ping-pong paddles, were the brain adjusted. It's the scary reality of neural connections. This refusal of the literal science is concerning, when this is a social problem that should be addressed on social terms. Biology is fucked man. Humans are bethesda codes. Semantically im not, and never expect to wanna fuck paddles. But I wont rule out that it could happen, like anything else."Look, right NOW I don't want to fuck a horse, but I really shouldn't be so silly as to say I'd NEVER fuck a horse. How closed minded you silly non-open-to-the-possibility-of-horse-fuking-persons ;)"My role as a multisexual is set aside for this, i'm approaching this as a scientist and anthropologist."I have no idea what it's like to be a gay man, but I can put aside that ignorance and understand objectively anyway without listening to anything a gay friend actually tells me =DI honestly don't know how someone gets...this homophobic while being same-sex attracted on some level. I'm just rethinking whether I want to even be friends with this guy if he won't widen up and just stfu for a second and listen...

[mlynar-nearl]

UK32-187

What did ALT need with a dog, anyway? Why there? Why alone? Who is Blue?

The answer- as with most things- is with Dr. Sibellius.

@vitadams ‘ Lifeline week day 5: favorite side character! Blue! (And maybe some other side characters! All of them actually! Because this went a different direction halfway in!)

Don't be fooled, the intent of this piece was to write about Blue. And my fan theory that Blue was created by ALT and used as a test for the Adams series.

It just ended up following Sibellius, because I will never be as good at writing about dogs as Jack London.

CWs for mentioned animal abuse, and uh, canon typical Sibellius. But Adams is there too, so it's fine.

“This was a god indeed, a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang's nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun.”  ― Jack London, White Fang

[on ao3!]

They make the dog early on.

He’s stronger than the average husky, hardier, too, an experiment in whether or not it’s possible to recreate life. A field test, if you will.

The Doctor is not sure what to do with the dog once he’s done testing its neural networks and wires and responses.

He considers killing it, but it’s so beautifully made- he made it himself, after all. So he keeps it around as he works on the first series and thinks- thinks very hard- about what to do.

The dog proves smarter than any average canine. He lets it follow him around the compound as he makes inspections, and after a few rounds it can remember where it’s been.

That’s when he starts to think about things he can do with the dog.

The dog is clever. He thinks that he can use that.

He doesn’t feel like naming the dog, really, so he gives it a proper designation rather than just killing it as he originally intended.

UK32-187.

He starts building the first series of humanoid ones. It watches.

He takes the consciousness of Unit Four out of the mainframe and puts it inside the first body. It thanks him. Calls him father again.

An odd complex Unit Four developed. He doesn’t mind the implied respect, but it is quite odd.

Possibly a good sign for developing Unit Four’s consciousness.

Unit Four is ambivalent towards the dog. The dog follows at Unit Four’s heels at first, confused and fascinated with the half-complete metal form. He works on Unit Four’s body for a long time before deciding that it’s non-functional. The reflexes are too slow. Movements too jerky. Not human enough.

Unit Four, to his credit, has never disobeyed an order. It returns to the mainframe as he works on the next version.

He lets unit four test the next. The dog still seems fascinated with it, sniffing it constantly.

To his credit, Unit Four is mostly gentle to the dog. He tries not to step on it when it’s underfoot and occasionally tosses it scraps from the doctor’s lunch.

The doctor never corrects Unit Four’s behavior. Instead, he takes note of it. It’s a sign of development for Unit Four, who has never scored high on the doctor’s tests of empathy or compassion.

Once Unit Four reaches the third series the technical kinks are sorted. They move like humans now, act like humans, appear almost perfectly human.

This is when the programming kinks go wrong.

The doctor is starting to run low on time. He has multiple bodies now, patching issue after issue that he notes in the behavior of the Adams series.

He notes a particular issue. Empathy and compassion. It’s not just something that Unit Four fails in, it’s something that units One and Three also lack.

Halfway through construction of unit Five, he puts the dog out at one of the smaller stations and leaves. As he does, he hears it start to howl. He’ll know they’re ready when he sees that dog again.

He puts units One, Two, and Three out in the snow. He wants to activate Five differently. He has bigger plans for this one.

Every issue should be patched. Every error, corrected

Fifth time’s the charm.

-

He’s running out of time. He sits in his laboratory, listening to the communicator crackle.

“He’s even letting me pet him! He’s really soft.”

The doctor hums softly. Unit Five released the dog. That’s a good sign, he thinks.

Unit Five talks for a few minutes more. Irrelevant stuff. The doctor needs to know about the dog. What will Unit Five do with the dog?

One would assume that he sent it to spy. One left it in there.

Two would have ignored it. Two was too caught up in his own problems. Faulty neural network.

Three would have killed it. So he could.

Four...at this point, the doctor isn’t sure what Unit Four would have done.

But Unit Five. What is Unit Five going to do.

“...the rest looks like an ID number: UK32-187. Not exactly a name, is it, buddy? I think this big guy deserves a better one. Hmm...let me think…”

There’s static silence. The doctor listens, intrigued.

“I’ll call him Blue, because of his piercing blue eyes...they’re sky blue, brimming with intelligence!”

> Why didn’t he bark at the visitor?

An obvious answer, the doctor thinks. The dog has seen most of the series, and each unit is virtually indistinguishable, even for the dog.

He can only tell them apart because he spent so long building them.

He makes a note, though.

Unit Five- takes dog from stat. beta-3

Names dog. “Blue”

Empathy + compassion unprecedented in series, disregarding loyalty subroutines.

-

The next time the doctor sees the dog, it’s growling at him as Unit Five faces him down.

“-but can you tell your dog to stop growling at me?”

UK32-187’s lips curl over its teeth.

It seems the dog hasn’t forgiven him for leaving it at the station.

A necessary sacrifice.

“Blue, sit. I know you don’t like him, but I’m trying to talk to him right now.”

Unit Five faces him. He almost wants to write something down.

Polite to a fault. Kind. Compassion unprecedented in series. What to expect from the perfected artificial intelligence.

“Sorry about that.”

The doctor eyes the body he built. Sturdy. Toned, from the consistent few days of exercise. Perfect. It’s like looking into the past, as he said.

He’s going to love having that.

Unit Five shifts in place under his gaze, disquieted.

Unit can read tension in social situations. Advanced social skills incomparable to previous iterations of. Far outstrips units One through Three, possibly competing with the social experience of Unit Four. Interactions, however, certainly faked based on encrypted brain patterns.

The doctor thinks he’s built the most perfect robot imaginable.

It’s too bad that that beautifully developed artificial intelligence is going to be deleted within minutes.

A tragedy, but an acceptable one.

He can get rid of the dog, after. It’s not like anyone will be around to notice. He won’t need this series anymore.

He doesn’t need anything to do with these Units after this.

He might as well tell Unit Five what to do.

How to be a good son, as Unit Four believed.

Unfortunate, he thinks, that Unit Four did not make it this far. Unit Four didn’t need this talk. Unit Four would have unquestioningly returned to the ALT mainframe and let the doctor take the perfected body.

But Unit Five…? Unit Five will surprise him, he thinks. Unit Five always has.

“It’s no trouble. Your purpose is one of preservation.”

[casualarsonist]

ArmA 3 review

NB: This is a review of the base game only – it doesn’t include anything regarding multiplayer or Apex, so take that as you will.

Arma 3’s single-player campaign is one of the most terrifying of any game I’ve ever played. It makes me wish that I’d trained in the military, because perhaps then I’d spend less time getting my ass handed to me. Perhaps I’d have a better eye for noticing details on the battlefield that alert me to danger. Perhaps I’d spend less time in loading screens waiting for my last save to boot up again, or clutching my fists in frustrated rage at how close I’d been to defeating the enemy before taking a bullet to the skull.

Now I skulk around corners. I dread urban combat and all the possible hiding places for enemies. I hit the deck or scramble for cover the second I hear the crack of a rifle, and if I don’t, I’m usually dead soon after. Arma 3 is good at making you dead, and if I played the game accepting the consequences of my poor decisions, I’d be having a much worse time - the enemy AI is whip smart at times, almost too smart, and most of my problems occur when I assume that they won’t act like a human, such as the time I was driving a pickup up a hill and a sniper started taking potshots at me from across the valley; there was little chance that I was going to find him before he wounded or killed me, so I kept driving and ignored him, assuming that he wouldn’t be able to hit us. I lost a man that day. However, a lot of problems also occur when I assume that my AI companions will act like humans, for not all AI is made equal, and this is but one of the unbalanced, unintuitive aspects of Arma 3 that still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The game is at its best when it’s allowing the story of the player to unfold as a dynamic result of the player’s unpredictable interactions with the pieces the developers have put on the playing field -  stumbling across a patrol while on foot can spark a desperate life-or-death skirmish, clearing out an urban environment is a terrifying game of cat-and-mouse, and there’s always the choice to fight or flee that allows for spontaneous, varied, and tense interactions. Emergent gameplay is where Arma excels, and in the spirit of a good military sim, it plays best if you to plan ahead, adapt to the changing battlefield, and suffer with the wounds you sustain; that is, unless it kills you outright, which is so often does, which then prompts either sober reflection on your mistakes, or bitter frustration at the janky design choices that left you floundering.

Yes, janky design – a term synonymous with any Arma release, and present here as always, for one of the main issues with the game is that so much of the end result of any confrontation in Arma 3 can come down to a number of factors that could be perceived as clunky design, or simple unfairness, particularly: how well you understand the many, many unexplained mechanics, how preternaturally accurate the enemy are at any given time, and often, simple random luck. At its best the game teaches you how to play by punishing you for failing to abide by its laws, but sadly, at its worst it punishes you for not knowing what the laws are.

For example,  I didn’t know that my character could sustain damage in a car crash until I crashed my car into a tree and got out with a limp about 5 minutes after the fact – there was no feedback when I hit the tree, and the game didn’t tell me up-front that I’d be injured, so how was I to know the rule before I made the mistake? Sure, I knew about it once I had done it, and I could’ve reloaded, but setting players back 5-10 minutes every time they discover a new inconvenience built into your system because you’ve simply failed to tell them how your game works is not good design. Similarly, AI teammates often won’t tell you when they’re injured, and you’ll only realise they’re hurt when your character melds minds with them telepathically and asks for a SITREP seconds before they die. The fact that this moment of automation comes with far too little warning to heal them only incites frustration – if a squad-mate needs help, I shouldn’t have to wait for them to keel over after minutes of silent bleeding in order to know that they needed to be fixed. This ‘trial and error’ vibe that requires you to fall into a trap before you know that the traps can even exist seems at odds with the game’s desire to encourage you to ‘adapt and survive’.

And of course, in every war there’s the poor grunt that sets off the tripwire and, in becoming mincemeat, informs his companions that they need to be careful, but in Arma 3 you’re that poor grunt - if you die, it’s game over, too bad, try again. It’d be mitigated slightly if you could take control of a companion after your death – in that case, your team would continue on and you’d truly be forced to adapt as circumstances unfold, but you can’t adapt if you’re dead, and re-entering the area knowing where the dangers are takes away some of the feeling of spontaneity and realism. So, as is the norm with Arma, there are many frustrating design aspects that still apply to the game, even in its third major iteration.

I’ve vented my frustration, but it’s true that Arma 3 is like no other FPS out there. I must reiterate the visceral thrill the game gives you – there’s a mission in the single-player campaign in which you’re dumped on a beach with a pistol, and must make your way to a squad of men about a kilometre away. How you get there is up to you, but between you and the squad lies a village crawling with smart enemy soldiers. It’s possible to sneak by the enemies patrolling the area, but there are quite a few to avoid, and just as you get by one group, you’re likely to run into another. You can scavenge dead bodies for weapons and ammo, but shooting attracts other soldiers. I had to restart at least a dozen times if not more as it was so easy to die, but once I got over the rage-quit-inducing frustration of the mission, I found myself crouched at the corner of a building, my heart racing in my chest as I prepared to cross a road blind. I knew that if I was attacked and killed, I’d have to replay 5-10 minutes again, and I was almost paralysed with anxiety – I feared my death in the game in a real, tangible way, in a way that made me mentally prepare for the task I was about to undertake. This kind of deep emotional impact is so rare, and whilst some games can instil fear in a player through stress, I found the thrill that Arma 3 gives you is one of adrenaline. Killing the last enemy in an encounter, reaching your waypoint, fleeing the helicopters that are scanning the landscape, all these accomplishments are met with a sigh of genuine relief and a feeling of real achievement.

It’s also worth noting that the best time I had as a player was when I was given the chance to stray from the narrative missions and take a team into the open world and complete small scouting tasks. Perhaps the joy I took from the freedom to create my own story is an indication that multiplayer is where the most fun will be had? In any case, being injured and stumbling across a township in which there were entrenched soldiers that need to be removed, skulking around the streets, getting brained once, twice, stepping on a mine, checking every single doorway from then on out…it’s an exhilarating experience. Again, marred a little by the fact that it felt like trial and error (I didn’t know the enemies used mines until I stepped on one), but exhilarating none-the-less.

If the goal of the Arma 3 single-player campaign is to teach you the skills and caution required to be a real-life soldier, it succeeds admirably. If the goal is to make you feel like the leader of a unit of capable human beings, it fails miserably. It’s true that you can order and position your men wisely, and pull off an attack flawlessly, but this is undermined by the far more frequent occasions in which the enemy spots you or a teammate first and kills someone before you can navigate the fiddly command menu and order your puppets to do anything other than soak up bullets. Overall, the single-player content of the game is a very mixed bag; the best memories I have of the game lie at opposite ends of the spectrum - either elation following a rare engagement that’s successful on the first try, or fear-soaked nightmares of bullets cracking, whipping by my head, and pelting the ground around me. If it sounds like I’m in two minds about the game - torn between wonderful moments of realism and frustrating moments of design - I am. Ultimately though, I know that the former trumps the latter because sometimes I stop running and rest in the shade of trees because it feels hot out. Sitting down and trying to objectively rate the game, I find myself wanting to give it a lower score than it probably deserves. I’m not blind to the face that I give almost everything here a ‘7′ or more, because I review a lot of games that I would say are good-to-great, and honestly, some aspects of Arma 3′s design feel like ‘5′. But I think that, as a single-player game, it’s better than the sum of its awkward parts. It puts you through the grinder, and forces you to become the best possible player in order to succeed, and despite the frustration, most of the time it’s worth it for the glory and the one-of-a-kind thrill.

7/10  

Good