#my baby brain cells were even rooting for their friendship in the back of my mind

[toxicxsugarxart]

She’s everything to me

Commissions open!

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, amazinglovers747!

Happy Birthday, @amazinglovers747​! We hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and you got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To keep your party going a little while longer, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

Happy Birthday! This fic is rated E for explicit sexual content and swearing. There are also mentions of Covid home-quarantine if anyone is trying to avoid that subject right now; it's not a big plot point, just a means to the end.

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Johanna slid onto the stool next to Katniss at the breakfast bar She casually grabbed her wrist, temporarily holding her prisoner.

“Hey!” Katniss cried as Johanna raised her trapped hand and took a bite of the toast dangling between her fingers. Once she was free, in disgust, she flung it away. Johanna, of course, deftly snatched the toast mid-air before it had a chance to land on the kitchen floor. 

“You do remember we’re in the middle of a pandemic, don’t you? We shouldn’t be eating after each other! Are you trying to get sick?”

Johanna rolled her eyes as she stood, her crunchy, perfectly browned spoils in hand as she moved to the sink. “And we live together, brainless. We’re around each other all the time, so it’s not like we’re not swimming around in each other’s germs already.” She took another bite of the toast, letting it dangle from her mouth as she poured herself some coffee. ”If one of us gets sick, we're all going to.”

“Speak for yourself,” Finnick said, rounding the corner next to the refrigerator. He had a towel slung low over his hips, barely in place, casually rubbing another one across his hair. “I keep myself in peak physical condition, just for such a reason. My body is a perfect, well-oiled machine. I don’t have time to get sick- I can’t deprive the world just because of something like COVID; after all, I’m already covering my face when I go out. That’s enough of a loss.”

Katniss ignored him- this was just typical Finnick Odair nonsense, same as the display of skin. Neither was anything new. When she first moved into this place a year ago, it’d been an adjustment, to say the least, getting used to all the nudity that went on within its walls. 

It wasn’t like Katniss was ashamed of her body or anything; she looked okay, she guessed. She’d just never met two less-shy people in her life than Finnick and Johanna. Neither had a problem walking around the apartment half-dressed or worse at any hour of the day. 

Katniss had lost count of the number of times she’d seen Finnick’s bare ass or watched Johanna casually stroll around naked in the girls’ shared bathroom while one of the other of them was getting ready in the morning.

At least it’s not Peeta walking around naked; Katniss thought as that squirmy, ticklish feeling reared its head the way it did every time she thought of her third roommate. That would be sensory overload. 

Not that she wouldn’t want to see Peeta in the buff (lord knew she did), she'd just prefer that happen in private.

It might seem strange while living with easily the most handsome man she’d ever met (Finnick was vain, but honestly, she didn’t blame him; if she were that attractive, Katniss would probably be the same), she couldn’t keep thoughts of her other roommate from sneaking in. 

She had the worst crush on Peeta. Shamefully, he was who she thought of when she, ahh, took care of her own needs. It was so disrespectful of their friendship, but Katniss couldn’t stop herself from fantasizing about him.

Speaking of which-

There was Peeta too, yawning against the back of his hand as he slumped down onto the stool beside her. 

“Morning,” Katniss told him softly, touching his elbow in greeting. 

He smiled at her, shifting on the stool to get comfortable before pushing an errant strand of wavy hair out of his face. 

Katniss wished she could do that herself- she had such an urge to touch Peeta’s hair. His blond waves were so fluffy-looking and soft, and he hadn’t had a haircut in ages; his barber shop was shut down for the pandemic. 

She could tell the length was starting to get on Peeta’s nerves, although he didn't say it. He typically kept his hair just long enough to be manageable, not those long, wavy bangs that were currently hanging in his eyes. Katniss would ask him if he wanted one of her ponytail holders to pull it back, but the idea of him with a douchey man-bun was revolting.

Finnick turned around, squinting disapprovingly around the protein drink he held up to his lips as he studied Peeta carefully. “You need a haircut,” he finally said, ”that mop looks terrible.”

”Thanks a lot, Captain Obvious,” Katniss grumbled, scowling at the side of Finnick’s ridiculously handsome face. He was so annoying with his fastidiousness sometimes: not everyone was that worried about their appearance.

Peeta took his teasing in stride, though. “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do? We're quarantining. Besides- I’m working from home. Who’s going to see me? Just the rest of my department at our Zoom meetings, and they look as shitty as I do. Seneca Crane has two inches of white hair coming in at his roots.”

“I bet that’s a look,” Johanna quipped. 

Peeta’s supervisor was an asshat of epic proportions. 

She picked up her travel mug. “I gotta go; I have to be in early today.”

“You don’t look shitty,” Katniss reassured Peeta once Johanna left. 

“No, he’s right,” he sighed, crossing his arms on the counter and burying his face there. 

Katniss shot a scowl at Finnick as he breezed by; he winked at her and she rolled her eyes. The back of Finnick’s towel was slipping off, giving her a view of spray-tanned ass cheek as he headed back to his room to get ready for work himself. 

“Covid certainly isn’t stopping Finnick from keeping up with his salon-services, is it?” she muttered once he was gone. “That’s ridiculous, even from him.”

“I think he’s got a thing going on with the tech,” Peeta told her, looking up again. “Annie, I think he said her name is? If they’re fucking the way he insinuates like they are-”

Katniss felt her whole body flame as that word slipped from his mouth. Peeta didn’t swear very often, so that made it a thousand times hotter when it happened. She could feel her body tensing from one pass of the word fuck from his lips. It didn’t hurt that they were alone, and Peeta was grinning conspiratorially at her. 

When he leaned closer, she could feel the warmth from his body and smell his soap-and-Peeta-scent. It was too distracting-

“Katniss?” He was staring at her questioningly. His lips turned up in a little smile, and his eyes crinkled in the corners the way they did when he was genuinely amused by something and not just being polite- something he thankfully never did to her. “Are you alright? Lost you there for a minute, I think.”

“Sorry. ” Katniss had been so distracted by his nearness she’d zoned out on the tail end of what he was saying. ”Finnick and Annie are fucking-” Her brain was absolutely not keeping up with her mouth. 

She had to get out of here before something stupid came out. 

“Yeah, just um; I’ve got to go use the bathroom,” Katniss said, sliding off the barstool like her seat was burning, making her escape.

“Are you going to be around today?” Peeta asked as she inched away from him. 

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started scrolling, as she held her breath. Finally, after what felt like tense silence to her but didn’t seem to phase him a bit, Peeta glanced up, waiting for her answer. 

“I’m not working today.”

“I might need your help with something later,” he said, glancing down at his phone screen again. “If you don’t mind.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding. “No, that’s okay. Just come find me when you need me.”

“Thanks.”

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A few hours later, a little rat-a-tat-tat sounded on her bedroom door. 

“Katniss?” Peeta called from the hallway, “are you busy now? I was wondering if I could get your help.”

Katniss sat up on her bed, tossing aside the book she’d spent the last hour or so trying to read after running to her room to hide. She stood up, straightening her clothes as she walked towards the door. Peeta was on the other side when she opened it, grinning at her, wearing boxer briefs and an undershirt. 

“Hey,” Katniss said, crossing her arms over her chest. She tried to sound casual and not at all like she had to force herself to keep her eyes on his face. 

But then, she couldn’t take her eyes off his face because something was different-

“I’m giving myself a haircut,” Peeta explained, running a hand through the blond waves on top of his head. The hair around his face was shorter and somewhat even, but the back still long- it didn’t look like he’d done anything to it at all. “Would you help me do the rest? I’m afraid I’ll screw it up if I try and finish it on my own.”

“I’ve never cut anyone’s hair-” that and the fact that she probably wouldn't be able to breathe standing that close to him.

“You’ll do a better job than I would, at least,” Peeta reassured her. “Besides, if it’s awful, I’ll just shave my head and start over.”

Katniss frowned at him. “Like that’s not putting any pressure on me!” The last thing she wanted him to do was shave his head- that would be a disgrace to such a nice head of hair.

“Maybe I’ll just shave it anyway. If you don’t help me, I will. I can’t walk around with a mullet.”

His hair was a baby mullet right now- she had to agree. At the least, it looked like that dark-haired guy from Hall & Oates. 

”It’s just hair. Besides, what harm can it do? It’ll grow back,” he went on.

Katniss frowned at him for a minute, to no avail. When he refused to give her an easy out, she sighed resignedly. “Fine. I’ll try it.”

“Atta-girl,” Peeta cheered her on as she followed him down the hall to the bathroom. “What harm can it do?”

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What harm can it do? Oh, a hell of a lot, to her nerves, at least.

When they reached the bathroom, Peeta sat down on the closed toilet lid and promptly reached behind his back, pulling his shirt off in that one-armed way guys have that made his biceps and shoulders and abs bunch before tugging the material over his head. 

Dear god, give her strength-

And then he just sat there smiling up at her like it was perfectly normal to be hanging out in his underwear, waiting for her to put her hands on him.

Not that she was putting her hands on Peeta per se, only his hair. 

Katniss let out a shaky breath. How was she going to do this? To cut his hair, she was going to have to stand just inches away from him like that. At least if she were doing the back, his eyes wouldn’t be on her, she told herself. That was some consolation.

“I don’t want to get any hair on my clothes,” Peeta explained with a shrug. “Maybe I should’ve got a trash bag or something to cover up with.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Katniss said, berating for getting so flustered. She reminded herself to breathe and, under no circumstances, let him see the way he was affecting her. They were friends- this wasn’t so outrageous. She was the one with hangups about semi-nudity. “Where are the scissors?” she asked, looking away from him.

“On the counter,” he said, indicating the sink with a tilt of his head.

She walked over to grab them.

“Do you have a bra on?” Peeta asked casually, just as her hands closed around the scissors. 

It was the worst timing; Katniss nearly stabbed herself, trying to correct her grip on them when she dropped them in surprise. “What?” 

“I can’t always tell- you’re not very big-”

Katniss frowned down at her hand. She briefly considered stabbing a particular roommate, who was currently lounging around in his underwear, in the side of his neck with the scissors. 

That was a shitty thing to say about her chest- it fucking hurt, actually, sending her confidence in an immediate nosedive down the staircase of self-respect. Okay, yeah, her breasts weren’t massive by any means, but she was petite; what kind of a jerk thought he had the right to say something like that? She was just fine, proportion-wise- 

Peeta laughed nervously. “I’m an idiot, Katniss. What I meant to say was you’re perky. I can’t always tell whether you’re wearing a bra or not.”

“Why exactly are we talking about my breasts?” She managed to get out, between frustration and, yes, uncertainty, because she could never un-know that Peeta had spent enough time thinking about her breasts to describe them as “perky,” and that meant he’d been thinking about her, right? 

Did that mean he was looking at her the same way she looked at him? Katniss doubted that- she’d think she’d notice, but still.

Either way, she told herself, this had to be a personal all-time-low for her. 

But then again, it was Peeta, and he was her friend. And friends could joke around with each other about breasts, right? It didn’t have to be a huge deal.

Right?

“If you are wearing a bra, you could take your shirt off. I figured you might not want to get hair all over your clothes either,” Peeta ran a hand through his hair again. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t like him. “I’m not trying to get you naked or anything-“

Katniss was sure her heart was going to explode out of her chest at any minute, a ticking time bomb waiting for one more word or action from Peeta. She was so confused.

But then she relaxed- she had on a sports bra; it was no less than what she would wear when they went running together, so she peeled her shirt over her head without thought. Why not- it was still more than Johanna or Finnick would wear on any given day, and it’d never bothered those two.

Katniss picked the scissors up off the counter again before stepping towards Peeta. “Any requests?” she asked, clicking them a little, trying to lighten the mood.

He turned around, presenting her with his back, and she didn’t think she’d imagined the way his eyes lingered on her chest before he moved. She watched the rise and fall of Peeta’s shoulders as he shrugged. “No, just try to get it a little shorter. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

A loaded sort of silence descended on them as she assessed the back of Peeta’s head. The only sounds in the room were slightly strangled breathing coming from him; she kind of reveled in the sound- it meant he had to be at least a little affected by her proximity, too.

Finally, Katniss began. She grasped a handful of his hair to get a feel for it. His blond strands were soft, curling around her fingers, and when she grazed her nails across his scalp accidentally, Peeta shuddered.

“That tickled a little,” his voice sounded strained. Katniss could make out the rough bobbing-up-and-down of Peeta’s Adam’s apple when he swallowed.

She continued cutting his hair in silence, little snips here and there. She trimmed it slowly, savoring the moment, trying to get it short around the edges, being extra careful around the back of his ears and the base of his neck. 

The air in the room grew more charged between them as the clock on the wall ticked the seconds by, still the only sound to be heard.

Katniss found that the ever-present awareness of him made it difficult to speak. There was a trace of yesterday’s cologne on his skin, and standing so close to him, looking at the arms and shoulders and back that she wanted nothing more than to run her hands over was driving her crazy. The temptation was so strong- what would he do if she buried her face in his hair or kissed that space between his shoulder blades that called to her?

“I think I’m all done,” she told Peeta after fighting off the temptation. She hardly recognized the sound of her voice, shaky and low as she forced her hands back, curling them tightly into fists to keep from touching him. 

Katniss stepped back, giving him some room to turn around. She crossed her arms over her stomach anxiously while Peeta got up and walked to the mirror. He brushed past her quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough to ignore the tingle at the place of contact. 

Katniss placed one hand over her throat. She was freaking out- her pulse was beating so rapidly she was sure it was visible beneath the thin skin at her neck.

When Peeta reached the mirror, he glanced at himself while she watched him in the mirror’s reflection. The color in his face was high, but he was so fair-skinned he couldn’t hide a blush to save his life. After the agonizing silence went on longer than she could stand, Katniss looked away and reached for her shirt. She needed to get away from him before she did something stupid like kiss him or cry.

“I think it might be a little uneven in the front.” Peeta stopped her, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror when she looked up. “Would you take a little more off the front for me?”

She nodded. She still didn’t trust herself to speak.

Peeta sat down on the toilet seat again- but this time, he faced her head-on without moving. She inched closer and closer, and when she got close enough that her legs were just grazing his knees, it sent a shiver through her body. 

He took her hand, and widening his legs, urged her to stand between them. 

Katniss moved closer, refusing to look below his shoulders; she was unsure what she would do if the outline of an erection were visible against the material of his grey boxer briefs. She had an almost-sickening (because the possibilities excited and scared her in equal measure) feeling that was precisely what she’d find. 

“You’re so little, I didn’t know if you could reach me standing over there,” he explained. His voice was husky. The sound was as sexy as hell.

Katniss wondered how Peeta was taking her silence as she moved closer to him. She was on edge and hot all over. With the first puff of his breath on her skin, though, she shivered. Staring down at the top of his head and trying to control her breathing, she debated where exactly she should start cutting this time. Eventually, she just started taking tiny snips out of the crown and sides of his hair.

Katniss had no idea where any of this tension was going to take them and no close what his hair would look like, either. 

It was almost impossible to focus on what she was doing with the way his warm breath fluttered against her body. 

It felt like his eyes were boring into her skin.

Torture: that’s what this would get labeled under, she decided. Shirtless time with Peeta spent giving him a haircut would be a prominent feature in her future spank bank. And unlike her other moments, at least this part of it was real. Her brain could fill in the fantasy portion long after it was over. 

Peeta sighed, and the sound was different, almost resigned. Before she had a chance to say something to him, though, his hands were at her waist, just above the band of her sleep shorts. She froze mid-snip, scissors dangling awkwardly between her fingers.

“Katniss?” 

“Hmm,” she said, because this felt so good it couldn’t be real, and if she said something, it might be over. Also, her brain pretty much felt like mashed potatoes: fluffy and warm, but not possessing any higher-reasoning ability.

“Is this okay?” he asked, fingers just pressing into her skin. 

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but look down at his familiar blue eyes. 

Peeta stared at her, and there was something there distinctly begging her not to reject him. He finally dropped his hands when the silence dragged on for too long- it was only then Katniss found her voice again.

“No, don’t stop. Please.”

It must’ve been just enough encouragement because he was pressing his lips against the space between her breasts before she could blink. “Oh god,” she whispered into the top of his head. His lips on her body had to be the best thing she’d ever felt, soft and warm.

Peeta pulled her closer, and she let him take the scissors out of her hand when he reached for them. It was probably a good thing- she’d forgotten she was still holding them. 

He dropped the scissors on the bathroom floor, and they made a clinking sound hitting the tile, barely audible over their heavy breathing. 

Peeta trailed his lips up her neck and across her jaw while his hands were at her hips and thighs, caressing her smooth skin, pushing up beneath the flimsy material of her sleep shorts.

Finally, their lips met, and Katniss wrapped her arms around Peeta’s neck, melting against him- at least as much as she could while he was sitting on a toilet, anyway. But who cared where they were? He was kissing her, she was kissing him, and it was all glorious. 

It wasn’t long before things grew heated between them; the flood of repressed longing came out in a rush of touches and words:

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long-”

“You have no idea-”

More kissing, more hands moving everywhere.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked, finally.

Katniss nodded, breathing against his mouth. Things were moving fast, and she didn’t want to stop, but they probably shouldn’t be doing this here. Maybe somewhere else that wasn’t too far away, though. “Shower?” she asked.

“Fuck, please. Yes,” he muttered, standing up quickly. He caught her off guard but was then walking her backward, taking her with him, stumbling towards the shower. When they made it there, still upright, Peeta reached around the curtain and turned the water on. Katniss pulled her bra off, and her shorts and underwear quickly followed behind as he shoved his underwear down his legs. 

And then they were both bare. How had this happened so fast? 

But she didn’t have much of a chance to dwell on things because Peeta’s naked body was pressed against hers, sending sensation through her every limb, every inch. Not to mention, his hands were everywhere. 

She loved his hands.

“Let’s get in,” Katniss mumbled against his mouth, just keeping herself from kissing him long enough that they wouldn’t end up horizontal on the bathroom floor.

After checking the temperature, Peeta yanked the curtain back and pulled Katniss inside the shower, beneath the warm spray with him. She expected something fast and hard to happen because they were both so worked up, but instead, the act of getting into the shower slowed them down. They were still kissing, wet and slow and deep, until Peeta backed away from kissing her long enough to lean his forehead against hers and stare down at her. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he finally said, his hand trailing up her thigh, his touch so inexplicably gentle, worshipful. Peeta slid up her belly, stopping to cup her breasts. He kissed her deeply before running his thumb across her nipple. “You’re sexy everywhere, but these are spectacular.”

Katniss gasped against his mouth when he pinched her lightly. “Not too small?” she asked, half-laughing at her question. With the way Peeta seemed enthralled with her, she wasn’t concerned. It was quite the opposite. She’d never felt so comfortable or confident with a guy before. 

“That was so stupid-” 

“It’s fine.” She let her hand skate down his hip, and he pressed his lower half against her thigh in response. 

“I’m just teasing you,” Katniss said, as she ran her lips down at his neck, sighing against his wet skin. His body was gorgeous- not hours spent working out at the gym perfect like Finnick’s, but because he was real and muscular, and it was Peeta, and she’d wanted him forever. 

She couldn’t believe he wanted her too. “You wouldn’t just do this with just any girl who cut your hair, would you- spectacular breasts or no?”

“Why do you think I asked you to take your shirt off?”

“So, you were trying to get me naked!”

They did laugh then, lips and teeth bumping together as he kissed her. It only lasted until his hand moved down between her thighs, cupping her sex. Katniss stood on her toes and kissed him deeply, and he took the cue to delve further when she widened her stance. He slid his fingers between her lips, touching her where she was swollen and achy for him. 

“You feel so good,” Peeta said, stroking lightly, “you’re so wet.” His fingers brushed against her clit, giving her a teasing little swipe around it that made Katniss bite her lip. “Feel good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the shower wall. 

Peeta kissed the side of her neck as he touched her, sliding his fingers through her folds and around her opening, dipping inside of her before pulling out to rub a little more firmly with each forward pass, until her hips were chasing after his fingers each time he moved them away. Finally, tired of his teasing, Katniss scrabbled at his hand, squeezing his wrist to let him know he needed to stay there until further notice.

Soon, with Peeta’s wrist still in a death grip between her thighs, his fingers rubbing quickly at her nerve bundle in an on-again, off-again motion, Katniss cried softly, dropping his wrist when she began to climax. She slumped against his body as he thrust two thick fingers deep inside of her, burying her nose against his chest as she pulsed around them. Peeta kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, fucking her with them.

Katniss was still catching her breath, mouth hanging open against his shoulder where beads of moisture left his skin slick to the touch when he pulled his fingers out of her. She looked up at him when she could focus again, her lids heavy, her body heavy and muscles relaxed from release. 

Peeta was staring down at her, his gaze intense.

“What do you like?” Katniss asked shyly. She straightened up the best she could, a little wobbly on her feet and wondering exactly how it was that people had shower sex.

Peeta cut her words off with a quick kiss, and while she was kissing him back, he took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. “Let’s just go with this, okay?” he said, his eyes searching hers. “I’m not in any big hurry, are you?”

This part felt like Peeta too (and she didn’t mean his very hard, very thick cock in her hand); the not pushing her, not being in any kind of a rush to move things fast. Katniss knew he was a methodical guy, and the thought of what that could mean sex-wise with him was kind of thrilling.

Absolutely nothing seemed wrong with just fooling around for now. It made Katniss’s core ache all over again, just running her hand up and down his shaft rubbing her thumb across the broad head of his cock. 

Her jaw went slack as she pumped Peeta to completion- it was better than any fantasy she’d ever had about him. His eyes were closed, one hand on her breast and one at her hip, when his face contorted in ecstasy. She watched his abdomen flutter and felt his cock tense. He throbbed in her hand as his cum came spurting out over the top of her fist like a fountain. Peeta moaned her name as he came apart, his hips rocking in time with the pulsing of his cock. It was easily the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

And the best part was Katniss knew they had the apartment to themselves all day. 

She had every intention of taking advantage of it. “Come on,” she said to Peeta, turning off the water and flinging the curtain back once he recovered, “my bedroom, now.”

[laisaxrem]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Yamato | Tenzou, Haruno Sakura & Yamato | Tenzou, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi Characters: Yamato | Tenzou, Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura, Senju Kaede (OC), Orochimaru (mentioned), Hatake Tomomi (OC) (mentioned), Hatake Momoko (OC) (mentioned), Tsunade (mentioned), Masumoto Yūki (OC) (mentioned), Hatake Kakashi's Ninken Additional Tags: child surprise, dad!Tenzo, Friendship, Poor Tenzō Summary:

Tenzō's day begins with an unexpected surprise: a woman, a civilian with whom he had an affair a few years earlier, knocks on his door, a child in her arms. The child, she says, is his son.

«He looks like your bonsai version», the kunoichi let out at one point, unable to hold back her wonder as she studied the sleeping face of the little one. «Sakura, please…»

.

.

.

Tenzō wandered around the Village like a zombie, the sleeping child wrapped in his arms.

How the fuck could this happened? What was he supposed to do? How… For a moment he felt the panic attack oppress his chest but he managed to dominate his body with the pure strength of his mind – the training of the Root finally did something good, at least.

But he needed to sort this out. He needed to speak to Kakashi and knew it was late but hoped to find him still in the office.

Eventually he managed to reach his destination, the Hokage palace, and entered the circular room through an open window.

Kakashi was there, sitting in the chair that had belonged to him until a few years ago, a pile of papers on the desk, a roll of a A-rank mission in his hands. On his arrival he did not turn around but raised an arm in greeting. It was evident that he expected him to speak. But Tenzō wasn't even sure he could think anymore. Finally, the former Hokage turned in his chair and when he saw the child held in his arms, he raised an eyebrow and abandoned the scroll.

«All out», he said, evidently to the ANBUs on guard. «What happened? Who is that child?» he asked after a few seconds, when he was sure that the two ninja teams were no longer within earshot.

«Kaede. He’s name is Kaede», Tenzō replied, swallowing hard as he tried to gather his thoughts.

«Sit down», Kakashi ordered, getting up and bringing the chair to him.

He widened his eyes at that offer.

«I can’t. That is –»

«It’s a chair and you need to sit down. So do it. Now».

Tenzō did. Because his senpai had used the tone of voice he used when he was the captain of the ANBU team and had to be obeyed quickly and without objection by his subordinates.

«And now tell me what happened», he ordered standing in front of him.

Tenzō had to think for a moment. How to explain what had happened? Where could he begin? His head was a mess and he had never felt this way in almost fifty years of life. Eventually he forced himself to open his mouth and the words began to come out spontaneously.

«This morning a woman showed up at my house, this child by the hand, saying she needed my help», Tenzō began, automatically obeying that tone of voice again. «I let her in because I recognized her face: she was a civilian with whom I had a relationship long ago. She told me this child is my son», he threw out, in one breath, ignoring the stunned expression on the ex Hokage’s face. «And she’s gone».

«Wait, she’s gone? Where? When will she come back?»

«Never», he replied, his tone flat.

«How…?»

«She drugged my tea», Tenzō explained, guessing Kakashi’s question. «When I woke up there was no trace of her. There was only a farewell letter for the child».

The other shinobi was silent for a moment and Tenzō knew he was gathering his thoughts, putting together the pieces of the puzzle. He hoped that at least he would succeed because personally the ANBU was groping in the dark.

«Forgive me a moment, Tenzō, but… you are a jōnin, and a tremendously skilled jōnin, too. How the hell did a civilian drug your tea without you noticing?»

«After her revelation I lost control and yelled at her for explanations», he explained, feeling vaguely embarrassed at the memory of his outburst. «The boy ran to the bathroom and I went to get him. Afterwards my state was too altered to recognize the presence of the sleeping drug».

«It’s not that I don’t understand, but what the fuck Tenzō».

«I know, senpai, I’m really sorry».

Kakashi shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

«It’s okay, there's no need to apologize. Hand me the letter», he ordered as he placed his hand on the ground to summon Pakkun and make him smell the object, ordering him to follow suit. When the pug had disappeared out the window, a little hesitant, he added, pointing to the baby: «Can I see him?»

Tenzō nodded and with extreme delicacy turned the child to expose his face. And Kakashi held his breath, just like he had done a few hours before, because the resemblance was truly incredible, almost surreal. And it froze his veins, a fixed thought that was beating in his brain and that threatened to make him scream.

«So, you have a son», Kakashi said after a moment, the neutral and controlled expression of someone who has seen a lot and knows that with a wrong move he could trigger the injured animal.

At least that was how Tenzō felt, who shook his head decisively.

«It is not possible…»

«Look at him, he’s identical to you as a child. He has your eyes, your features…» Kakashi pointed out… as if he hadn’t already noticed it, as if he didn’t think he had a mirror of the past in front of him, when he was in front of the child.

But although logic and common sense dictated that this had to be his son, Tenzō knew he couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t.

«Senpai, it can’t be. I have always been careful…» he tried to say, in the hope that his old friend, his old companion, would understand and would not ask for more, that he should not be forced to relive that humiliation and pain of many years before.

But of course it was Kakashi, the one in front of him, and he trusted the man so much also for his intelligence and his stubbornness.

«Apparently not enough».

«He can’t be my son», he finally resolved to say, now resigned to reveal even that secret of himself that only one person in the world knew.

«Listen Tenzō, maybe you reproduced with spores like mushrooms, I don’t know what to tell you», Kakashi blurted out, irritation starting to infiltrate his voice.

But the ANBU was in no mood for jokes or reproaches, not now, not with those thoughts crowding his mind. Not even from his senpai.

«It’s not funny», he replied, fighting the irritation with anger. It was the only thing left to him at that moment.

«Neither is the fact that you deny the evidence».

«I’m not denying it, I… Tsunade-sama said I am sterile», he finally admitted, his eyes cast down. He didn’t want to see the Rokudaime’s reaction to that news.

«What?»

«Orochimaru’s experiments with Shodai-sama cells apparently made me sterile», he explained, trying to keep a flat tone, intending to convey to him that that wasn’t a big deal… and that that child couldn’t have been his son.

Silence. A few seconds of pure and awful silence followed his confession. And he didn’t look up.

«Ah. I see. I’m sorry, Tenzō».

He shook his head at Kakashi’s soft voice. He didn’t want pity from him; he wanted help, he wanted answers, he wanted someone to tell him what the fuck to do now.

«It’s not like I wanted to have children, so it was never a problem». “Liar”. «But now…»

«I see. We can do a DNA test, but I have to talk to Sakura or another doctor…»

«Sakura», he interrupted him and finally ventured to leave that very interesting point of the floor to look Kakashi in the face. He took no pity on it and this helped him maintain eye contact. And it was perhaps the hardest thing he had done in recent years. «But only her. Please».

«Don’t worry. No one else will know anything from me until you decide the opposite yourself. You know you can trust me », he added, putting a hand on his shoulder. Tenzō knew it.

 ***

 Half an hour later they were both in the living room of the Hatake house, Sakura listening to her husband’s explanation as she continued to glance at the child curled up on her sofa next to Tenzō. He had woken up when they arrived and watched the three adults with wide, tearful eyes; then the twins came trotting around and, after observing the newcomer for a moment, they took him by the hand and dragged him away. After less than twenty minutes Momoko had arrived in the living room saying that the new baby had fallen asleep while they were playing and Tenzō had silently gone to retrieve him leaving the twins alone to play with Bisuke.

«He looks like your bonsai version», the kunoichi let out at one point, unable to hold back her wonder as she studied the sleeping face of the little one.

«Sakura, please…»

«Sorry», she said to Tenzō, who had a grim face. «So, are we going to do this DNA test?»

«Yes, please».

«Give me a second». And she left the three males to run to the kitchen where she grabbed a sterile swab that she knew had been left in the cutlery drawer since Aki had stopped using them to build towers, and a couple of plastic freezer bags, then went back to the living room and passed one to the ANBU, nodding. «I need some hair. With the root».

The latter nodded and carried out the order, dropping a lock of brown hair into the bag. Meanwhile, Sakura knelt in front of the child and gently let a little bit of chakra flow in a point of the jaw, making it open just enough to allow the kunoichi to slide the swab inside the baby’s cheek. When she was satisfied she threw the stick into the bag, sealing it carefully and gently closed the mouth of the probably-son of Tenzō.

Then he took both bags and wrote a few words on them as Kakashi called Shiba. She knelt beside the ninken and strapped the bag of samples to his back.

«Bring them to Yūki», she instructed him while scratching a spot behind his ears that made him melt every time. «Leave them to her, only her, understood? And tell her that they have absolute priority: I want the results as soon as possible».

Shiba nodded and took off like a rocket.

Sakura sat back down next to Kakashi and watched her old taichō.

«Tenzō, I would like to discuss with you how to behave if the paternity test is positive», she said quietly, carefully measuring her words because the man still seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. «I know what you’re thinking… that’s what I’m thinking too». And judging by the killing spark in Kakashi’s eyes, that was exactly what went through his head too.

«Really? I don’t think so», Tenzō replied in a lashing tone.

Sakura leaned forward and squeezed his hand slightly, ignoring the poison in his voice.

«Do you think that, being you sterile, the child… Kaede… is probably an experiment by Orochimaru. An unauthorized experiment», she began calmly, not letting go of his hand. «If so, we should step in and end Konoha’s collaboration with that sadistic bastard once and for all».

«Sakura…»

«You’ve known for years how I feel about him, Kakashi, so don’t make that face», she retorted, exasperated. She had nearly twenty-five years of grudge against that being, in her soul, and the fact that he had helped the Alliance during the war had not erased her memory of the fear and pain of the attack on Konoha during her first chūnin exam, as well as anger at what Sasuke had become in three years spent in Orochimaru’s hands. So no, Sakura couldn’t accept the Sannin as a companion and ally and Kakashi knew it well (he was present at his fight with Tsunade about the matter after all). «But before we jump to conclusions that would be devastating for everyone in the Village – and although I’m dying to smash that… man in the face – I’d like to ask your permission to undergo a couple of fertility tests», Sakura continued. ignoring her husband’s grunt at the restrained insult to Orochimaru. That was not the right time to deal with old grudges and disagreements with her lovely husband and her shishō: their friend needed help and at that moment he had priority over everything. «I imagine it has been several decades since Tsunade-sama visited you, and our medical skills have greatly improved in the meantime».

«Okay», Tenzō said immediately, his voice flat.

But the woman shook her head.

«Wait to accept. One of the tests, the most thorough, is also very invasive». And she began to explain the procedure, which among other things involved inserting a long needle into the patient’s urethra. At the end of the explanation both men were pale and nauseated.

«Okay, I agree», the ANBU captain finally repeated, his voice a little weaker than his first, fervent consent. «When do you want to start?»

«The DNA test will be ready in a couple of days but if you agree we could start with the first fertility tests as early as tomorrow. I would leave the procedure we talked about only as a last resort, in case the test is positive and the previous analyses inconclusive or negative».

Tenzō nodded. It was evident that he felt the need to act and, unable to speed up the paternity test, was forced to fall back on what he could check.

«Can we start this evening already?» he asked in fact, and with a look in his eyes that broke Sakura’s heart. All she wanted right now was to punch someone, and Orochimaru was the first name that came to her mind. But she had to hold back, for her friend.

«All right. If you’re sure…»

«I’m sure», Tenzō said, his voice as hard as the expression on his face.

«Okay, give me a minute». And she went back to the kitchen where, after a moment of searching, she found a couple of airtight plastic containers she had bought when Megumi started eating solid foods. In theory they should have been used to prepare baby food at home and store them correctly, but Sakura had never found the time or the desire to do so and had always bought ready-made baby food.

Back in the living room after having taken a look at her children who had collapsed on the mat with Bisuke on guard, she passed one to Tenzō who looked at it questioningly. Sakura, trying to remain as professional as possible, asked: «Have you had sex in the past three or four days?» Tenzō shook his head, the blush blooming on his cheeks. «Good. Then we can proceed. You need to fill up the container. Of sperm».

«Fill it up?!»

Had it not been such a delicate moment, Sakura would have laughed at the shocked expression on the face of her former taichō.

«A sample will do. But I need everything, from the first to the last drop», she specified with a reassuring smile.

«Ah. I understand», the man stammered a little, his cheeks even redder, his eyes avoiding those of the kunoichi… maybe she had to work better on her reassuring expression, after all. «Do I… do I have to do it now? Here?»

«Tenzō!» Kakashi roared indignantly, almost making the child crouched on the sofa wake up.

This time Sakura couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

«Our presence will not be necessary», she assured him, ignoring her husband’s menacing eyes. «You can use the bathroom. Or do you think you need… ah, video material to give you… a hand in the matter?»

«Sakura!»

«What? This is a question I ask all my patients. Masturbating in a cup is not at all easy».

«Kami-sama, I don't want to hear», Kakashi muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

«The bathroom will be fine», said the other shinobi and flew out of the living room.

For a moment there was silence between husband and wife, a silence that was broken by the Rokudaime.

«Thank you».

«For what?»

«For having a plan», he began, going to crouch on the tatami in front of Sakura and take her hand, the mask now lowered to show his wonderful features. «For acting as a doctor, for keeping me from rushing to Orochimaru and killing him with my own hands, for taking matters into your hands, for distracting my friend, for giving him something he can control».

«I wanted to do more, give him an answer immediately…»

Kakashi shook his head, grey eyes two pits of sadness.

«When he got to the office earlier… You should have seen him, Sakura, he was shocked. I didn’t see that expression on his face since we were just kids».

Sakura sighed. He had known Tenzō for more than twenty years now, and after the war the respect she had felt for the man had slowly turned into a strong friendship. Seeing him in that state, feeling his anxiety, seeing the fear in those dark eyes usually always calm, had broken her heart. And she dared not imagine how Kakashi, who had known the man for much longer, felt.

«You know, part of me would like an excuse to go to Orochimaru and tear him apart», Sakura confessed as she stroked Kakashi’s unruly hair.

«I know», he sighed and leaned forward, wedging between her knees so that he could put his arms around her waist and rest his head in her lap.

They remained like this for a while, Kakashi hugging her while Sakura played with his hair, a reassuring silence that enveloped them.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, light footsteps roused them from that semi-numbness.

«I’m done», Tenzō announced from the doorway, his cheeks still very red (from embarrassment or excitement Sakura didn’t know).

Kakashi sat back on the sofa, the mask miraculously returned to its place to cover his face, and Sakura stood up, stretching her sore shoulders a little.

«Okay, give it to me so we can get it over with», she asked, reaching out her hand.

But Tenzō hugged the container as if it were the most precious thing he had, the redness that spread from cheeks to ears.

«May I… I’d rather keep it myself», he muttered, taking a half step back.

«I have to take it to the hospital and get tested within an hour».

«I come with you».

Sakura raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated (and if the situation hadn’t been so delicate she probably would have flung herself to the man and stolen the container without too many ceremonies).

«You know that sooner or later I’ll have to take it anyway, right?»

«Better later than sooner», Tenzō muttered, his eyes fixed on the ground as if the tatami in the living room were the best piece of art ever created by human hands.

A grunt behind her told her that Kakashi was holding back laughter. Understandable.

«Okay than, let’s go», Sakura finally gave in and turn to give her husband a light kiss on the cheek and then walk towards the door. «Men», she muttered in exasperation as she slipped her sandals into the genkan, well aware that Tenzō could hear the insult.

He had the decency not to answer and followed her to the entrance, Kakashi at his heels.

Sakura raised an eyebrow in the direction of the man who shrugged with a simple «I’ll come with you», and called Bull and Urushi back, entrusting them with the three sleeping children.

 ***

 Tenzō, in a corner of the lab with Kakashi, watched Sakura work on his sample. And yes, it was awfully embarrassing. The whole situation had been embarrassing but on the one hand he was grateful because for a while it had distracted his mind from the thought of Orochimaru.

The thought that Kaede was an experiment terrified him as few other things had done in his life. He hadn’t even stopped to think about what it meant for him to have a son, taken as he was in terror of the prospect that that son was yet another experiment with human guinea pigs. And he knew he had to think about it, he had to decide what to do with the child… well, Tenzō had no idea how to raise a child. He wasn’t a father, and he didn’t have someone around to help him… No, he didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t think about it, not until he got the test results. He realized it was a stupid decision, that he was behaving like a coward, but now in his mind there was only Orochimaru and the memories of his early life in the laboratory, immersed in that cylinder of hot liquid. There was no room for anything else. The only thing that apparently managed to live with the terror was embarrassment, and that mix was making him nauseous.

Sakura finally stopped looking at the microscope and got up, the folder on which she had written in the last half hour clutched in her hand.

«Then?» Tenzō asked, his mouth dry, fear swelling in his chest like a balloon and making it more difficult for him to breathe.

«Macroscopic analysis is pretty good», Sakura began, her eyes rolling over the notes she had taken. «Viscosity, colour, smell, it’s all in the parameters. The pH is a bit low but nothing to worry about. And the volume of ejaculation is definitely above the norm».

Tenzō felt the redness go down from his cheeks to his neck. He had always thought he would die on a mission, or to protect the Hokage, and instead fate had decided to make him die of embarrassment in a laboratory in Konoha. Ironic.

«As for the microscopic analysis, however, the motility is actually a bit weak but you have more than sixty million spermatozoa per ml and the morphology is pretty good. So my diagnosis is asthenozoospermia».

Tenzō didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anxiety but he didn’t understand much of what Sakura was saying.

«Which translated for those who are not doctors means…?» Kakashi intervened.

«To give you a definitive answer, I would have to repeat the exam in three months», Sakura replied, her eyes still fixed on the test results, her brow furrowed a little, as if she were trying to grab something that was missing. Then she finally looked up and smiled at Tenzō. «But no, you are not sterile. You do not have a very high fertility but not too far from normal; indeed, considering your age it is rather good».

«How is it possible?» he asked, his voice a little trembling, relief and terror mixed together. «Tsunade…»

«How old where you when she took the test?»

Tenzō thought for a moment, trying to recall that day.

«Nineteen. And a half», he added thinking that it might be useful for Sakura to be as accurate as possible.

He earned another smile.

«Have you repeated it? About three months later?»

The man nodded.

«Strange. Very strange. Unless…» Sakura broke off, a different expression on her face, as if she had solved some riddle. «Let me guess, the other time you didn’t ejaculate completely in the container».

Tenzō nodded again, a part of his mind already busy deciding how to put an end to his sufferings because maybe not even in a million years would he be able to look Kakashi and Sakura in the face again after that day.

«A large part of the spermatozoa is emitted at the beginning of ejaculation and if that fraction is not collected, the results are staggered», explained the kunoichi, distracting him from his thoughts.

And finally the embarrassment gave way to understanding.

«So I’m not sterile?» Tenzō asked quietly.

«I would say no».

«And… isn’t he an experiment of Orochimaru?»

Sakura’s smile grew warmer and her green eyes took on a sweet note.

«I can’t say that, at least not yet. DNA analysis could help, though», she began, her voice reassuring. «The only thing I can say is that the odds that three years ago you were fertile are very high. So yes, Kaede could be your natural child».

Tenzō’s heart began to beat faster, almost deafening him, and that horrible weight that had oppressed his chest since that morning suddenly melted.

It was a hand resting on his shoulder that awakened him and a bubble of gratitude swelled in his throat.

«So there might be a lot of little Tenzōs out there», Kakashi said, the smile evident in his voice.

«Senpai!» Tenzō yelled, glancing at Sakura who was trying hard to hold back her laughter. The man felt his cheeks flush again: he didn’t think he could blush so much, he had to admit it, but that afternoon he had proved him wrong. «I… I… I have always been careful!»

«Not enough, evidently», the Rokudaime teased him, his hand, still resting on his shoulder, radiated serenity and Tenzō couldn’t really get angry with his old friend. «And yet I thought I gave you a good speech when we were kids».

Here, perhaps he had to re-evaluate his choices in terms of friendship.

«Senpai!»

Tenzō felt the embarrassment mount again but this time he welcomed it with open arms because it was no longer entwined with terror but with relief.

«Thank you», he whispered, and the grip on his shoulder tightened and Sakura smiled at him and even the last fraction of anxiety dissolved.

Now he had to figure out how to deal with Kaede, how to be a parent to that child who had just lost his mother. It was something that terrified him but in a completely different way than Orochimaru’s thought. And he was comforted by the idea of having Kakashi and Sakura and his other friends around. And for the first time since the doorbell had rang that morning, Tenzō smiled.

[artificialqueens]

as the stars align 8/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 3.3k - also on ao3

As the few weeks of movie promotion unfolded, Brooke and Vanessa still hadn’t restored their relationship to what it used to be, but on a professional level they were better than ever. In every interview they were bouncing off of each other, lighting up the camera, the fans and the press already pronouncing them a dynamic duo. A video of the two of them playing Co-stars for Cash had even made the top twitter moment a couple of days, a sight which had almost given Vanessa a heart attack when she saw it.

It was fun, but it made her miss their true friendship more than ever. Since the moment they shared over her coming out, there hadn’t been a single interaction between them that wasn’t on film, or on a stage, or witnessed by outsiders.

There was only the premiere left, and awards season should they be so lucky to be nominated, and after that they’d have no reason to see each other unless they actually got their shit together and made their friendship work. It was dumb as hell to let one night get in the way of how far they’d come.

So if Brooke wasn’t going to be the first to reach out then fuck it, Vanessa would do it herself. That hoe wasn’t about to get rid of her so easily. After a few minutes of internally debating with herself, she decided to call Brooke before she lost her nerve.

“Vanessa, oh my God, is everything okay?” Brooke greeted her worriedly, thankfully picking up after only two rings.

“Yes! Yes, everything’s fine, I’m just bored, my girls are out of town. Sorry to blindside you like that babe,” Vanessa replied, trying sound as cool and platonic as possible. The ‘babe’ probably didn’t help her case there, but she let it slip out anyway.

“Yeah, off-days are weird,” Brooke laughed.

“You wanna, uh, grab a coffee or something?”

Brooke confirmed that she was down, and Vanessa hurried to make herself as presentable as possible in the short time she had. She put her dark curls up into a messy bun, applied some light makeup and decided that her favourite oversized hoodie and some tights would do.

Half an hour later, she was sat in Starbucks opposite Brooke. It had been a while since she’d seen the other woman without the professionally applied makeup and her hair done, and she looked straight up adorable in her fluffy turtleneck and jeans.

“Damn, I needed this,” Brooke said, sipping on her black coffee.

“I know. Bitch, I slept like a baby last night, but I swear I’m still exhausted after this months crazy-ass schedule. I need a nap for like, a week.”

Brooke nodded agreeably.

“Same, but I’m so restless. It’s like I don’t even know what to do with my time off.” Vanessa knew the feeling — it was hard to escape the feeling that she should be doing something, especially right now with her career reaching new heights. Every day was supposed to be a hustle.

“Well you can always hit me up, girl,” Vanessa said offhandedly with a grin. Brooke swallowed and didn’t smile back — maybe she was also thinking about the last time they spent proper, one-on-one time together — and Vanessa felt her mouth going dry. No, this was bad, very bad, no one person should have this much of an effect on her. They needed to be better at being friends.

“So, why’s the premiere happening in London anyway? Were all the LA theatres booked or somethin’?” Vanessa inquired, wanting to quell the nervous energy, even though she already knew why.

“Well, we only get one premiere. And Katya’s insisting that we all deserve a vacation away from LA.”

“Vacation is a weird word to describe five days in the UK shivering my pussy off,” Vanessa huffed. In reality, she was kind of looking forward to the trip — she had never been to Europe before, and she could see herself spending part of December living out her Love, Actually daydream.

“Don’t lie, you’re excited,” Brooke smiled. “Besides, you’ll have me there to keep you warm,” she winked.

Vanessa flushed at Brooke’s comment, perplexed as to why she was still going there after blatantly rejecting the idea of anything sexual between them only weeks ago.

Brooke kept up her flirty nature for the rest of their meeting together, and Vanessa felt like she was balancing two alter egos — the cheerful facade she was putting on for her company (which was surely unconvincing), and her spiralling inner monologue that was just trying to work Brooke out.

The mystery and iciness had been part of what had drawn Vanessa to Brooke Lynn, but right now she really wished she was more of an open book.

—

“I’ve ruined everything, Nina,” Brooke flopped onto her bed with a sigh, unable to care about the piles of clothes beneath her that were now being squashed. “I’m the dumbest person alive.”

“Trust me, I know. We share five brain cells between us, and I possess four of them,” Nina quipped unsympathetically as she attempted to organise Brooke’s packing for London.

“I’m serious you bitch. I literally can’t stop fucking up. I told myself that I’d done enough and that it’ll be a miracle if she even wants to be friends with me anymore, but then she said the sweetest words on how I shouldn’t feel pressured to come out and I swear to God…” Brooke trailed off, not wanting to divulge how she’d flirted with Vanessa in the cafe to no results. She felt like she’d promised herself, everyone she knew and their mom to keep things strictly friendship between the two of them, knowing that was all Vanessa was after, and yet —

it was as if there were small roots of hope growing inside her that just wouldn’t die, no matter how much she refused to water them, no longer allowing her mind to entertain the fantasy.

“Is this the part where you admit that you’re not over her?” Nina asked with a smirk. Brooke groaned in defeat — it wasn’t like lying to Nina or herself had gotten her anywhere thus far.

“Fine. I love her, is that what you wanna hear?” It came out like word vomit, and Brooke felt tears prick her eyes.

“My, my. The Ice Queen is thawed,” Nina pronounced ceremoniously, her faux shock exaggerated. Of course Nina would treat this as a goddamn improv exercise.

“Fuck you, Nina. I love her, I’m literally in love with her, what the fuck. Help me!”

“Aww, you can’t stop saying it. It’s pretty cute honey,” Nina giggled, plopping herself down next to Brooke on the bed. She started to rub comforting circles on Brooke’s back as Brooke’s tears began to fall.

“I’ve made such a mess.”

“Go from the start, B. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. You were always a pessimist.”

Brooke took a deep breath.

“On Halloween, when you forced us to talk, it was just… awkward. So I told her we didn’t have to discuss what happened between us, we should just leave it at that, and she agreed it was for the best, and then she looked so sad and I knew she regretted it ever happening because Lord knows what we used to have isn’t ever coming back…” Brooke burst out, feeling like a rambling, sobbing disaster of a human being. “Press was fun and we had that moment after Tatianna’s interview, and then we got coffee together and I thought things were going back to normal. And maybe they were, at least until I started flirting with her and made everything tense all over again. She’ll probably never act like that with me again, even in a friendly way, because it carries so much more weight now and she won’t want to give me the wrong idea…”

Nina handed her mug of tea, and Brooke didn’t think she’d ever been told to shut up in a more tactful way.

“Brooke, love. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason Vanessa was so upset on Halloween was because you essentially rejected her and shut her down before you guys could even properly discuss what happened and how you both feel?”

Brooke shook her head, frowning. There was no way that Vanessa actually wanted to be with her.

“Well, I think you should consider it. And you know I wouldn’t want you getting your hopes up for no reason. But it makes sense, Brooke. She was hurt by what you said but she was trying. But then you started flirting with her again, and now she’s confused.”

Brooke felt pathetic as her eyes sprung more waterfalls, competing with Niagara over which could be the most impressive tourist attraction. Both possibilities were bad — she’d either hurt Vanessa by ruining their friendship, or hurt her by breaking her heart.

“I know you find it hard to believe. But you deserve to be loved, Brooke. Vanessa would be lucky to have you.”

“I have to talk to her. For real,” Brooke said as she buried her face in tissues.

“Yes. But first, you have to pack.”

—

Brooke was going to talk to Vanessa.

But it had to be the right time. She didn’t want to contact her before London and risk everything going haywire before the premiere, so she would wait.

The days leading up to the trip were torture, and the flight to London was also a slog. Vanessa had looked strangely lonely as they’d waited in LAX, surrounded by her manager Ra’jah and the rest of their party, and Brooke wondered whether she missed Silky and A’keria. She assumed they wouldn’t be in London until later, if they were coming to the premiere at all. Perhaps Vanessa even missed Matt.

She’d sat by herself on the flight, a couple of rows in front of Brooke. Brooke had wanted to go and sit with her so badly, but with Asia to her left and Michelle to her right — locking her in conversation — it was hard to get away. When she finally slipped off to check on Vanessa, her co-star had fallen asleep, looking more soft and peaceful than Brooke had ever seen her, and Nina gave her a pitying passing glance on Brooke’s way back to her seat.

When they arrived at Heathrow airport, they were exhausted, though some of the group were still in good spirits, excited and delirious and somehow still finding things to laugh about as they whizzed through customs at a speed that Brooke had become used to after all her years of fame.

Brooke was too tired to socialise. She ushered Nina into one of the hired cars that was there to pick them up, and she definitely didn’t pick that specific one because she’d seen Vanessa get in it with Ra’jah already. And she certainly didn’t let her eyes flitter between the scenery outside her window and Vanessa, who was even prettier than the London skylines; a picture perfect view herself.

As they neared the centre of the city, Christmas lights became more and more abundant, and Brooke felt soothed as she noticed the creases and frowns in Vanessa’s face melt away.

It scared Brooke how much Vanessa’s happiness could make or break her own.

When they got to the luxury hotel they were staying in, it was gone midnight. Brooke checked her phone for the first time since landing and noticed few-hour old text from Yvie saying that her and Scarlet had made it to London— most of the cast and crew would be flying in individually, but Nina and Ra’jah had decided to work with Michelle, Asia and Katya’s plans in order to get a hotel discount. Or because they clearly thought Brooke and Vanessa’s idea of a relaxing vacation was spending five days with each other and their former bosses. Brooke didn’t particularly care to think about the reasoning right now, she just wanted to go to bed. Even though it was only four pm or so in LA, their flight had been in the early hours of the morning and she’d been unable to sleep on the plane, so she’d lost count of the hours she’d gone without rest.

“We have a slight situation,” Asia said as she walked over to the group with a grimace, the receptionist in tow.

“This is so embarrassing, and I am so sorry for any inconvenience, but it appears we have only reserved six rooms for your party instead of seven, and the rest of the hotel is fully booked for the next two nights,” the attendant said, young and clearly nervous. Brooke wondered how often he had to endure the repercussions mistakes likely made by others. She knew that the most practical option would be for two of the ‘single’ people — her, Vanessa, Nina, Ra’jah and Asia — to double up for the two nights they wouldn’t all be able to have their own rooms.

“Of course, you will be compensated for this error, and I can recommend other hotels within a walking distance if you should prefer…”

“Y’all couldn’t pay me nothin’ to go outside again tonight,” Vanessa piped up.

It was cold as hell and the more minutes they spent discussing this, the more minutes Brooke wasn’t in her bed.

“I agree, I really just wanna go to sleep,” Brooke chimed in.

“So will you two be okay to share?” Nina asked her, sounding perkier already, and Brooke would’ve sworn it was a set up if Nina hadn’t been as surprised as she was to learn of the mix-up.

“Uh, sure, if it’s okay with Vanessa,” Brooke said awkwardly. “Or you and I could room together.”

“I’m an old lady, Brooke, think of my back,” Nina spewed possibly the biggest load of bullshit Brooke had ever heard. Brooke rolled her eyes, knowing Nina was having the time of her life with this.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover,” Vanessa confirmed, Brooke smiling cautiously in response. The receptionist apologised profusely once again and began handing out their keys —

“Nina, what the hell,” Brooke said under her breath as she stood close to the other woman.

“This could be exactly what you need, Brooke. You know you need to talk things out, you said so yourself.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to trap her into a conversation in the middle of the night in a foreign country,” Brooke hissed.

“Let’s go, roomie,” Vanessa called. Brooke sighed, as she tried to rack her brain and pinpoint the exact moment her life became such a fucking cliché.

—

Vanessa could deal with sharing a room with Brooke. She wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but it was only for two nights, and who knew whether they’d even make it to bed tomorrow with all the partying that was bound to occur after the premiere.

They each filed into the elevator, and when half the group started wheeling their cases out a couple levels up, all Vanessa could think was of course they put Brooke and I on the highest floor. All that was left was for the two of them to get stuck in the lift, alone, and to not be rescued until hours later. Vanessa held her breath the entire ride up, only letting it out when the doors closed on the floor below theirs, and Asia and Nina were still hadn’t left them.

“Now, remember Nina and I are right around the corner, and I have the hearing of a bat. So no funny business, you two,” Asia grinned cheekily. Vanessa wanted the ground to swallow her.

Brooke gave Nina a goodnight hug, and then the two of them walked silently a few doors down to their room.

Vanessa fiddled with the key card, trying to get it to work, but it was stubborn and Vanessa was faltering under Brooke’s gaze.

“I hate these damn things,” she stressed. Brooke took it from her, accidentally brushing her fingers in the process, mumbling an apology. When the light went green and the lock clicked open on her first try, Vanessa rolled her eyes in the darkness.

The room was cute — fairly spacious and mostly white with mahogany and burnt orange accents, the decor matching the warmth of the festive lights which sparkled outside their window. Vanessa had been disappointed when they’d arrived in London to the bitter cold yet none of the snow, but the shimmering river view was even more special than any kind of winter wonderland she’d conjured up in her mind.

“Fancy bath we got in there,” Brooke stated a few minutes later as she stepped out of their en suite, probably just to break the ice.

She was in a matching tank top and shorts, and Vanessa forced her eyes to stay on her face as much as they wanted to drift over Brooke’s long legs and soft cleavage.

“You sayin’ I smell or are you offering?” Vanessa deadpanned. In her hazy state of mind, she decided two could play at the game Brooke had started.

Because that was all Vanessa was to Brooke. A game.

Brooke wanted to tease and flirt and play with her, but she didn’t want her.

“Ha, you wish,” Brooke replied coolly, her voice slightly stilted. Apparently the day’s travels and the night’s hotel shenanigans had left the both of them tense. “Just letting you know it’s there, if you’re interested —”

“Well, it should put that on it’s dating profile,” Vanessa joked, feeling victorious when Brooke chuckled softly in response. “But for real girl, I’m beat, so unless you wanna be dragging my drowned corpse out tomorrow morning…”

“And get the bed to myself tonight? I’ll take it,” Brooke smiled.

“Bitch. If this is the last time y’all see me alive, it’s on you,” Vanessa stuck out her tongue, heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When she returned, Brooke had already closed the curtains and snuggled herself under the covers, her face lit up only by the light of her phone screen and the dull glow of Vanessa’s lamp.

“Hey,” Vanessa said quietly.

“She lives.”

The bed was big, much bigger than Vanessa’s double in her own apartment, and she climbed in the opposite side to Brooke, her heart physically aching at how content she felt lying beside her.

How right it felt, despite the last time they were in a hotel room together being under such different circumstances.

Even the roars and sirens of the bustling outdoor streets were unusually comforting.

“Vanessa?”

Brooke’s tone was questioning, and so faint Vanessa almost missed it.

“Yeah?” Vanessa whispered.

Brooke took so long to reply, Vanessa wasn’t sure whether she’d heard her either, or if she was even still awake.

“I…”

“Are you okay?” — worry was growing in Vanessa’s stomach and she wanted so badly to reach her hand across the distance between them.

“I just… I miss you. I’m sorry, I’m being dumb, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Brooke spoke so sadly and Vanessa knew she was crying even without seeing her face.

She’d been rejected, flirted with and now missed by this woman all in the space of a few weeks and the rational part of her brain was telling her that Brooke was just tired, she was in an unfamiliar place away from home and she would break Vanessa’s heart even worse if she made promises tonight that she couldn’t keep tomorrow.

Still, her hand searched for Brooke’s anyway, intertwining their fingers as their bodies stayed separate, her other thumb feeling Brooke’s cheek out and wiping away her tears.

“Let’s not talk about this tonight, okay? But I swear we will. And you know I ain’t a liar,” Vanessa vowed. She felt Brooke nod into her hand.

“Goodnight, Vanessa,” Brooke sighed as Vanessa turned her back to her, but shuffled closer, letting Brooke’s arm drape over her body.

“Goodnight Brooke.”

[bartok-not-bartalk]

This Was Commissioned By the Vampire

On Modern Mythology

Just because paganism isn’t a largely accepted term anymore, humans have always, and will always continue to be polytheistic, it’s just that these tiny associations and devotions have become so normalized, so pushed down into monotony, that so many don’t even notice.  However, many a truth is spoken in jest, and some seem to realize more than others, even if they themselves believe their joking.  All fairytales and mythologies spring as trees grown around seeds of truth., though indeed I’ve changed the names in this particular one to lend it more to fiction.

The vampire is called Nona, and this piece is dedicated to her, as she started it with the idea of a curious but lazy vampire hanging around a group of fae in order to score free meals and because of friendships with members of the court.  Did you know that a group of fae is called a court? We generally prefer team, because that’s what we are, technically, in the eyes of the school.  But if the school was aware of the Geass, they weren’t telling, and we sure as hell weren’t asking.  

What we did know was that we practiced at the Ridge, the Ridge had rules, and we followed those rules. Because of that, or possibly relating to that, the rules that governed the rest of the high school didn’t apply the same way to the team.  We collectively referred to this as “the geass” because that’s what Cait called it— and as a captain, and one of the few actual fae on the team, she was more versed in the nuances of that type of magic than the rest of us.

As for the Ridge, as far as any of us could tell, it was Liminal, and possibly on a couple Ley lines, which was weird, because it wasn’t near anything important. Even the Kaspers, being descended from one of the old forest gods themselves, couldn’t tell much besides the fact that the Ridge was infused with old, old, magic, older than even their own lineage.  Hence, its informal rules were handed down runner to runner as the team initiated new members and lost seniors, the gospel to a strange religion of pain and camaraderie, positive vibes and negative splits.

If you didn’t realize, we’re runners, and the Ridge is our training grounds, although such a crude term is insufficient to describe what it is exactly.  

Anyways, The Rules:

Never run alone.  The familiar can become new again without a second pair of eyes

Always wear a watch, or run with someone who does.  Time keeps its own pace in the trails

Run warmup loop before starting any other circuits.  The Ridge likes it when you say hello

Don’t leave anyone behind, and don’t become separated from your group.  The forest throws voices back which are cast into it, especially near Cop Lake

The bent willow over the lake is the baptismal site under the three gods; Paceus, Speedeus, and Obeseus

There are apples to be found on Mother trail, but only if you aren’t looking

Runs aren’t complete until you slap the sign with the group you ran with.  Don’t walk before you hit the sign, you’re not done yet

(rest of the story is under the cut)

Our Gods, and the High Priest

It was one of those mornings that the sun had seemed to rise early and burn off the dew that it could reach.  Late June, but feeling like August.  By nine am, it was near eighty degrees, and we were all mostly done with our sprints, held at Palzikistan in the burning sun.  Twos and fours weren’t all that bad, just tedious in the suffocating heat.  The geass was buzzing with languor and breathlessness, thirst, and anticipation.  The push for those last fifty yards, the last twenty seconds.  The baseball diamond we did our sprints around was at full sun, and the short oaks and coach’s car provided little shade.

Finally, the last of us finished and stood in a loose cluster around the water bottles for coach to assign cool-down.  As he talked, [cool-down upper loop or any two miles in the trails  back down to the casino for stretch as long as we were back by……… 9:30] the geass shifted, the consensus being that we weren’t really going to do cool-down, but run off as a group and pretend to.  The geass wasn’t really good at specifics, but the likely destination was Cop Lake, being on upper loop and quite desirable being that it was summer and we just ran sprints.

The varsity guys took the lead of the pack, jogging up the path to Cop Lake to “run the loop”, and the rest of us followed, slowing at the trail head’s bottle neck to tiptoe our way up the reverse bank of the lake, gripping onto tree roots and watching our footing to ensure that none of us slid right back down.  Isaac, Chris, and Chris were up in a flash, their abilities allowing them to bushwhack straight up, while the rest of us stuck to the trail.  Must be nice to be part mountain goat.

Up the trail, we went left until we got to a gnarled willow, trunk bent and the primary branch out almost horizontal to the shallow water of the lake below.  Isaac climbed up the trunk and out the primary limb, standing up with confidence that was impressive, especially from someone with hooves climbing a tree.  As we watched, he announced that it was the time for the baptisms in the eyes of Paceus, Speedeus, and Obeseus for any second-years who hadn’t been baptized yet, and Cait explained that the ceremony entailed climbing up the tree, the High Priest (Isaac) saying the rites, and then jumping into the lake.

Stehlar was up first.  He climbed up the tree after Isaac and crouched over the lake on the twisted limb, which swayed with the addition of his weight.  Someone behind me whispered about one or both of them falling into the lake, and a few of us watched with a nervous eye, waiting for the inevitable.  Still others watched the trail for coach, as technically we were supposed to be on cool-down on the loop around the lake, not jumping in it.  But mostly we were watching Isaac stand on the limb with Chris, proclaiming him to be baptized in the eyes of Paceus, the provider of the intelligence and endurance to run a smart race; Speedeus, the giver of speed to pass competitors in the course; and Obeseus, protector from the fats.  He yelled this to the lake, claiming it his right as the current high priest.

Then, like an unsure baby bird trying to fly the nest, Chris tried to jump off the limb, which heaved heavily under his weight before he plummeted like a stone into the lake.  Several whooped, and soon Isaac and a few others joined him, pleading that we were all so sweaty anyways, coach wouldn’t notice the extra level of wet at stretch.  Anyways, if he did, he didn’t say.

It’s Rude to Geass a Vampire

“Did anyone feed Nona?” I asked at the end of practice, not seeing the bat in either of her forms anywhere in the casino.

“I did”, Chris (Bertola) snickered, grinning in a way that I knew I wasn’t going to like what he’d done.

“Chris… you didn’t give her your own, did you?” Vampires could handle the blood of the geass’d, but the more potent the effect of the geass on someone, the more… curious the effects of their blood would be on any bloodsucker unfortunate to prey on them.  It affected everyone differently, and some vampires even chose to drink fae or geass’d blood, but since the geass on the team involved the compulsion to run, and Nona wasn’t a fan of cardio, she generally steered clear, especially of the varsity runners.

“Nah,” Chris answered, “I told her to go ask Wert”

“Oh god,” I covered my face with my palm.  “What happened.”

“She went that way,” he said, pointing out over the warm up hill, “Faster than I’ve ever seen her fly.”

“CHRIS” I exclaimed, “How many times do i have to tell you, geassing a vampire is extremely rude, and Nona doesn’t like cardio! She’s probably a few miles into Canada by now!”

“Maybe she’ll make it all the way back to Romania.”

“Wrong direction, bird brain, I’ll see if I can get Marin to catch her before she gets too far.” It truly was lucky that we had a venti on the team at times like this.

The Cult Meetings Before First Period

The best part about secrets is if they're out in the open all the time, people care less.  It might be scandalous if someone’s cheating, but if the whole school knows and doesn’t care, then it’s old news.  This was the principle most of us applied to the school rules.  The whole school was cheating on the reality most people believed in, but since we all knew it, it wasn’t really that big of a deal.

Hence, technically the unwritten school rules required that students use glamours and refrain from taking advantage of any… supernatural abilities to excel in academics or other school activities, but like the cell phone rule, it was largely ignored as much as possible.  So what if a senior’s footsteps sounded more like the clomping of hooves as they loped down the hallway to gym, because he was clearly wearing sneakers.  Or that the selkies and sirens, and a few veela dominated the choral and dramatic arts, because no one could really prove anything without admitting that something might be amiss in the first place.

Such was observed with the clumping of the team before first period in the second floor main hallway around the lockers of the Kaspers and Noot.  We still let people through, and there weren’t any fights or misconduct involved with our gathering, so it was fine.  The rare human who had a locker in our clump was interesting to witness though.  Since the school was located on an old crossroads, mildly liminal itself, there weren’t really many true, pure-blooded humans, but then again it was hard to find a pure blood anything anymore, especially in america.  There were however a good many bloodlines that were extremely diluted, sometimes to the point where the family wasn’t even aware of their heritage, just moved to the town for some reason they couldn’t explain, drawn to it’s latent energy without even consciously knowing it.

In any case, on this particular day Maeve, a selkie removed several generations, was getting the percent error on the most recent chem lab from Liv and Noot.  I was sitting on the ground with Mason and Caleb, doing geometry homework and helping Mason with his bio, not that he needed it, really.  She must have realized something weird, like the fact that Sierra didn’t have a shadow (nephilim are beings of light therefore can’t create shadow), or that when Marin walked by there was a slight breeze even though we were indoors, because half joking, when Noot handed her lab back she asked “Jeez are any of you actually human?”

A bunch of us looked up, the upperclassmen smiling wryly.  A freshman raised his hand, unironic. Noot snorted without even looking up from her phone.

“Mason, put your hand down.”

Emma lowered it for him.

“Glucose is C6H12O6” I said, tapping his biology notes.  He paused and recorded the answer.  Maeve was back to laughing with Noot and Liv over chem, and Andrew had joined them next to Liv.  Elise and Angela were trying to see who could boil their water bottles faster, Elise using her breath and Angela relying on the tiny, green flames she held in her palm.  Mason watched this with a slightly vacant gaze.

“What did she mean, ‘are any of us human?’” he asked, confused, “I mean, I know Isaac and Stehlar are satyr, and Cait, Emily, and Oni are… something, and Elise, but the rest of the team is normal, right?”

I smirked. “Mason, very few people here are what you would consider fully human.  With this team in particular though, there is a geass involved.”  Intent magic was pretty strong, and it was a little weird he hadn’t noticed, or recognized it for what it was, especially because he himself was at least a quarter empath, whether he knew it or not.  They tended to be more sensitive to those kinds of magic than say, satyrs or venti.

“Isn’t that like a wish?” He inquired, watching as Elise’s water bottle boiled over, landing on Angela’s shoes and quickly evaporating again on contact.

“Kind of,” I started, “A geass is fae magic.  Very old, very powerful, and very finicky.  The geass on this team particularly connects us and keeps us safe, and allows the team to draw power off of our own running and the liminality of the Ridge, the catch being that it only lasts as long as we continue running, and is only as strong as our drive and dedication to it.  Higher mileage, greater geass affect, tighter the team gets, and the easier we fit into the Ridge.”

He nodded, picking at a corner of his homework. “What do you mean, draw power?”

“For those of us that aren’t human, it enhances any latent abilities that may have been diluted by the generations, and it allows all of us to recover faster, run longer, and also gives us a slight emotional connection beyond what you would consider normal empathy. Like… if someone got injured, we’d know, and also how to find them.”

“What does it do to humans?”

“Well, first, while under it’s effect, you’re not human, you’re more like a fae/human hybrid of some sort, I’m not sure what it’s called…. ask Cait.”

He nodded again, jotting down the next answer to his assignment and looked over at Angela and Elise again.  Elise was teaching Angela how to toast bread without burning it with her flames, though it was more comical to watch Elise herself breath fire onto her toast than Angela’s green palm flames (the later were more effective at not burning the toast).

“Without the geass are you human?” Mason asked, half-serious.

“Nah”

“What are you?” He asked, looking again pointedly at Angela and Elise.

“I’m not a dragon or a hedge witch, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not an answer.” he said, smiling with a huff.

“Fine,” I said, giving in, “Without the geass, I’m part immortal on my mother’s side.”  On the other side it was pretty obvious as to what I was, the last name Morozkovna didn’t exactly lend itself to subtlety.  But Mason, and most everyone else in the student population, didn’t know the evolution of Rus’ surnames and so almost no one ever asked, and no one ever knew.  

A secret in plain site is much less exciting than one trying to hide.

“Without the geass am I human?”

“Nah,”

“WHAT?!”

The Eldritch Horror and the Cameraman

“Morozkovna” I heard from behind me, “Are the early frosts this year your doing?”

I turned around.

“Hi Messina,” I started, waving to him with my coffee, “Why would I have anything to do with it?”  

Messina smiled, and time hiccoughed, the same junior that had just walked past doing it again, the world seeming for a second like a rewound cassette tape.  Very distinctive time magic.  I rolled my eyes.  It was too early in the morning to exorcise my cousin out of Messina.

“Mephisto, why the fuck are you possessing Nathan?” I asked, incredulous.

“He’s not possessing me.” Messina deadpanned, falling back into his normal voice. “I was just messing with you.”

“He was just a second ago, but since you’re able to apparently thwart possession in less than a second, please explain.”

Mephistopheles was a very old deity, chaos based, the illegitimate child of mortal fear of damnation and a nice cocktail of chaos magic and satanism.  Not as old as my parents, though the chaos part of him came from my father’s brother, making him my cousin!  Messina did have a fair bit of warlock in him, but even a full warlock would have a hard time freeing themselves of chaos magic and my idiot cousin.

“I summoned him, but used the wrong binding circle, I thought he was something besides what he was, and he escaped and possessed me.” Messina deadpanned.

“What got you back to being un-possessed that allowed you to keep some of his magic?”

“Oh no,” Messina corrected, ‘He’s still possessing my physical body, but after he possessed me I decided to possess him back.  He wasn’t too happy about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” I responded absently, still processing the fact that my idiot cousin got summoned, possessed Messina, and then got possessed by Messina.

“Hey, is he seeing this now?” I asked

“Yes,” he said, laughing, “He’s furious you’re laughing at him,” he paused, as if listening, “something about you being a weakling who couldn’t even light a candle against the roaring, centuries old flame that is his power.”

I lost it at the candle.  Well no shit Mephisto I can’t light a candle, my dominion is  winter.  

“Make sure to watch plenty of hallmark movies,” I instructed Nathan, “He hates happy endings.”

Prerace

Fridays were interesting.  Especially later in the day.  The excitement of the students caused… curious occurrences and thin wearing glamours.  The chorus teacher wouldn’t hold any lessons after fifth period, because once a senior siren accidentally charmed a couple cellists in the next room over.  The halls were crowded, and the flow of time didn’t seem to follow the normal laws.  Even the teachers were affected, the english teacher’s horns and the smell of salt in one of the global teacher’s room not going unnoticed.  The team didn’t even bother with glamour on Fridays, or concealing the geass.  It was prerace, which meant a short workout and a pasta party.  Our honest excitement killed even the strongest of our glamours even before the geass magnified it a few times.  Glamours were concealment magic, and their price was restraint, making them simple to cast, but difficult to maintain when excited, or overly emotional in general.

Elise’s tail flickered in and out of existence, knocking backpacks at random.  Angela crackled with sage-green energy, and Chris didn’t even try to conceal his hooves has he came down the hall with Lily.  A pencil that Blake was holding sprouted a few leaves and tried to grow as he was doing trig, so someone gave him a mechanical. Even I let go a little, and frost creeped up the sides of the locker I was leaning against. Sierra was legitimately glowing, I’m pretty sure that Ruby’s feet weren’t touching the ground, and Nyah’s pants changed pattern with her movements, the bars of black and white that made up the lines in the geometric pattern folding over themselves and twisting like a kaleidoscope.

Finally, after eight long classes, school was over, and it was time for prerace.  At 3:30 at least, Mau was first.  Since we were banned from wall ball, Mau has taken the place for favorite pre practice game  [besides drawasaurus, that is].  Mau is a game that was originally spawned from the Germanic game Mau Mau, though it is played differently every time.  The only things that new players or outsiders to the game are told is as follows:

We’re playing Mau

We can’t tell you the rules, but it’s played similar to uno

While the game is in session we can’t talk

Generally, you lose until you figure out how the game is played.  Sitting and watching the game played works too, but you learn faster when your own neck i s on the line; figuratively, of course.  It’s taken as seriously as any practice, and as competitively as any race.  Communication through the geass and other means with other players was also forbidden during Mau.  Cait took care of that with a temporary contract agreed to verbally by all of the players by picking up the cards.  Fae magic prevents a breech in contract, and besides most of us were non-human enough to be unable to even before that measure.

I get my hand and it frosts over immediately, its so bad.  Messina smiles slowly at it from across the table, he being the only one partially exempt from the communication rule, as I’m not sure Cait knows about Mephisto.  Emily starts the round, at Cait’s command of “Meeting in session”.  

We all pick up our cards and Emily flips a 7.

[babiewonho]

can u write an essay on kihyun now please don't just saw beat root thanks QUEEN uwu

kihyun’s personality is so funny and contradictory to me lmao like he has such a big personality and um wow i just got distracted bc i put on drew barrymore by sza and it was playing at half speed bc i just played the COME GET YALL JUICE vine at half speed but anyways

first and foremost i think kihyun is very Capable like kihyun is like. so good at being an adult like he just knows how to do everything it’s so weird it’s like he was born just Knowin. like he’s just so confident and he’s good at speaking most of the time and like he said he would go to vocal lessons while working two jobs that weren’t even close to each other like he’d have to take the train and he’s so determined even going to school like he’s been doing while promoting as an idol like he just has a really type a personality and he wants to be good at everything and he has the drive to achieve that as much as any human can it’s very respectable and imo a very attractive quality like i feel like if i asked him how to do anything he’d know for some reason

he’s very charming and he knows it and sometimes it’s greasy LMAO like when they had to do the pick up lines in that video and mx were dying in the bg but it’s very effective i think that’s really good for networking etc and he’s so friendly to other ppl he acts like he already knows them but he isn’t like…overstepping boundaries which is imo the way to become friends with someone wh said one time that to get close with ppl you just have to act close i think and that’s what kihyun does he seems very sociable and friendly and easy to talk to like he makes an effort to keep the conversation going and get on the speaker’s level/help them understand the topic 

tying in with him being rly capable he’s so good at cleaning n cooking like why is he so damn responsible lmao share some of those skills w/ me…wtf…but like wow that’s rly a whole adult i bet he even does his taxes on time but he takes his work so seriously and like he’s not even a dancer but he puts so much focus n energy into dance and it shows he’s so impressive…i…i hate it

so! i think what makes ppl misunderstand kihyun is he has this weird like…sharp outside/soft inside thing going on…coughs tsundere   but by that i mean  he’s not Genuinely mean   but he plays along well with others esp 93 line they have a very cozy n roasty dynamic going on and he’s quick to tease others in a friendly way unfortunately ppl take that as ONE personality archetype the “savage” just like shakespeare invented and that ONE personality trait supercedes ALL OTHERS n suddenly kihyun hates everyone like false…hello he’s just bein a scorpio (he’s born n like the First day of saggitarius but he himself has said he’s a scorpio n the time he was born rly indicates that so im just going with scorpio these   are the Facts) he ALSO…isn’t very comfortable with “mushy” stuff he’s fine giving compliments but when they get into genuine emotional things it’s not that he gets weirded out  it’s more like   it’s okay until He has to get mushy abt his own feelings at least from what i noticed

i was actually surprised bc kihyun is somewhat easily embarrassed and i didn’t expect him to be so nurturing on an emotional level like hugging changkyun when he cried, he sympathy cries w/ wonho lmao, comforting wonho when he cried during that one v live. i thought he’d be more of a supportive but awkward type in that situation but he actually empathizes really well. that’s why i think kihyun’s personality is so like  contrary there’s all these traits that seem to be the opposite of each other but melt together just fine in his personality

but he actually has a very nourishing presence he just seems to have like a different rule for himself and he doesn’t like to get all deep or w/e that’s so scorpio of him…it embarrasses him lol he doesn’t like emotional vulnerability if he thinks it opens him up in a negative way but here he goes again with the contradictions- he’s emotionally open with children and pets. he’s amazing with children and animals n feels a lot of love n affection towards them as well as the members but honestly i’ve practically raised my little brother from infancy to like four years old and i have very high standards for child care but kihyun takes such pride in his work as always n he luvs the Babies so he is very mm meticulous abt it. i got stressed when the kid’s heads weren’t supports while getting sleepy in their chairs n then the moment i got stressed kihyun’s hand wld fly out to support their heads and he held them and esp the sick babie :(( even when he cried kihyun didn’t get panicked as many ppl too and hand him off to one of the more experienced ladies he comforted the babie n held it n also

during mxray season 2 when they met the kids again he got all worried abt i cant remember which kid it was…jongwon! i think he was worried shownu wld hurt him by accident in the bounce house thingie lmao which i was worried abt too so he was like be gentler and my heart…she soared he rly cares abt them :(( in a very genuine way n also! at the batting cages v live there were kitties and he, wonho, and ck were worried abt them getting hurt. he’s just a very caring n loving person and he does engage in a lot of skinship like they said on the psychology analysis part of mxray but i think rather than physical affection he shows love through actions like waking the members up and finding stuff for wonho etc ordering the other members around n leading them in the right direction he definitely has a BIG leadership quality n a desire to be in control but he doesn’t let himself like usurp shownu’s position lmao he just relishes the times when he gets power

i always say it’s more like shownu, minhyuk, and kihyun are three coleaders and i think they all compliment each other extremely well and kihyun is a rly good mc esp in things like mon happy radio he and minhyuk are rly entertaining and work together really well which is rly cool

he rly rly loves the members in a very fond way they make him smile a lot and what i think is so funny is i think kihyun originally has more of a tendency in situations like that there’s something historically in comedy called a “straight man” (i know) where someone else acts like an idiot and this person basically doesnt find it amusing n acts serious or upset kasjfsf and i thought kihyun wld be like that but i think mx just has such a goofy energy and kihyun often engages in the goofiness but that seems to me like something that probably changed when he met the boys i can’t seem him being like that arnd other ppl but i think he’s very fond of their dynamic and embraces it now like he laughs in this Specific way when the members all get Ridiculous like he’s in fond disbelief like when they kept singing the UFC song!!! in no exit like he’s lovingly saying “these idiots” in his head it’s really cute tbh he’s just very often Fondly Exasperated like when mh ate the whipped cream at the end of that one vid/when ck ate food of the plates from other ppl in mxray you can just tell he has so much love for his members 

as for his relationship with 93 line that’s just pure love n friendship to the point of comfortably making fun of each other n i really hate when ppl act like it’s genuine hatred bc you can’t make jokes like that with people if you genuinely dislike them they’re just all three very comfortable with and fond of each others and build off each other very well comedically and the teams switch up as to who is making fun of who and like?? if they rly hated each other things like mon happy radio with mh and kh and the times when mh was absent and hw was the replacement would be possible. they get along fine for that and it’s like an HOUR long of just them together and they make jokes and they compliment each other like anyone with more than 2 brain cells knows they don’t actually hate each other but :) had 2 say that

CAPABILITY ASIDE kihyun has these moments of hilarious like…airheadedness   as demonstrated in aleena’s amazing gifset of kihyun being dumb. he’s so smart but he just lapses on the most ridiculous things aksjfasf it’s so funny  kihyun, staring at a seatbelt: does this go around my neck   is this the Neck Belt  Oh..  just youthful naivete which the other members bring up sometimes n his face when they got their first win :(( cld it be…kihyun is a soft babie!! it Cld !! :D

also vocal wise i’m not a Professional or anything but he’s rly one of the best vocals in kpop like breath support and not singing with strained notes and vocal agility he’s just so good he and shownu are actually different imo than a lot of kpop vocals who just sing n half of it’s like  rhythmic yelling lmao like he and shownu can both sing BALLADS well and with CONTROL they’re so incredible and kihyun has a pretty wide range imo it’s very healthy singing with lots of support 

anyways i wrote WAY more than i thought i was gonna be able to abt him there’s deadass like 1.7k words right here lmao like yall readin this? eyes emoji anyways i hope this makes some sense it’s 4 am…anyways i think kihyun’s personality is fascinating and i feel like i have quite a few personality traits in common with him but also i wanna arm wrestle him so damn bad im not even reading back through this and checking it’s too much LMAO

[macphairlane]

connecting with profs or nething at this point is not unlike the velvets live at kansas city, its a melodic and more or less productive affair considering lou reed the lead singer had just had electro shock …with friends of old and icons of great value to share ideas with; the record litterally comes fourth as a paranormal entity, in human forms. …but simply; its vinyl.

Shiney shiney, shiney rolls of tape, girls only I could help escape. blue eyes i could never see them take. rollin 365 up the staires, a crackhouse dive dweeb squaires, why whine, rye, a wife in mind. La monde avoir its roots entwined, 1st word; thyme in ice in time greedy pigs and shocks a freak, day in day out don’t miss a beat i love you still white light white heat ill miss your mother’s little feat; you glowies; children of the wheat. telepathy jealousy bahing sheep

one last and first thing to comprehend; to thrust forth and defend, to lash out introspectively, war on our brains unjust effectively we cant depend for they are liars with no morals only wires.

those we are forced to trust however wrong and evil they are to sever. Know that in time the universe will punish their evil doing, karma will get you through the abuse. Let logic steer you away from the danger they have on display the sick drs who will pay fake degrees and up and ha all together to wreck the day.

god bless the youth with their troubled times against them and theyre healthy minds 365 its live now draw a line between the fake malpractice swine and your mind and tricks entwined freed by the knowledge that you’re fine. now 705 thisle and thyme this matters more, to our kind they laugh and make you compromise your life to better fit their knife there gay and you are a good wife to me. someday they’ll go back to pay, and fuck you up a different way,

For that I think ill stay and wait here for alternate ways around the castle i call home and site beside your empty throne.

“love”  and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophise with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the moment my phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche,  at this moment I can prove using circumstancial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indesisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and psysical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living thngs on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not neccesarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings cresendoes babies,, are when the energy isnt circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, an the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what  he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, emparts her secret harboured denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, wheather the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivitol form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense,  my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misenterperted until the last few seconds before the line went dead (FUCK), were interperated and acknowledged and the whole venus in furs philosophy of the one party giving the other what it wants so bad, but has been denied, and doing it with love, or what they BOTH KNOW is the kind of love that’s needed and given over finally with effortless,  voluntary participation from the dominant, resuling in satisfaction in bohe parties (in my case the girl and I were more harmonized cause it was love based. Sex based, and send in the sacred medium of sound, and the talisman, the artifact, the memory the high velocity evidence that the message was of high fidelity, was that she didn’t use descriptive words (language) I was unfortunately (my medium at the time) it was her specific instrumental natural sirens alerting me to the intentions that truly lied behind her actions towards me  even if it was for that day only, this medium I collected from the field is highly obvious and irreplaceable piece of art that is regarded by the mind of the homosapien on a natural level as evidence that it not just social interacton, its a higher form of interaction, sexual yes, the highest form, occurs only when the truly loving is truly loved, on a sexual level, which indicates physical involvement,  and it did, only on one side, the side of the desired, the starvd had revieved the intention, and it was love, something metaphysical that can only be cofimed as occurring for ne length of time is undeniable corporeal action, even if its just her, givin er to you reading literature over the phone, the gift of reassurance that you are loved in this memorable case was not through words, but audible expressions from the depths of physical and mental activity from her diaphragm through her vocal chords and into my eardrum, was evidence enough that our seemingly healthy and thriving friendship was being held in limbo while I struggled with life and suffered over the denial of the true real deal love you were harbouring and saving in yourself for the future, didn’t dim and go out like a candle that burned up all the wax. Without official acknowledgement celebration and because I was still fucked up, without the long lasting  relationship that we wished wold follow and planned for, the sound of her primal sirens, sent mono ideo-dnamically from her entire physical being emitting frequencies that resonate with the earth around her and correspond with the stimuli, me, the correspondence being the brief experience of hearing the broadcast of it, acknowledging the fact that no matter how flawed or un aware I was prior to precieving what was transpiring an how classicly themed to fit my experience it was, that the fucking phone died before I heard the end of it, I clued in to what was going on, (id been informed of this “drone”she makes by her ex boyfriend (the other guy) right before he drove his helpful and convenient car out of her life)  Even if it was “her being noisy” it was fundamental sensual body chemistry, stimulated physically by the best means she knew how mentally by the imperative consciousness of the presence of the instinctualy, reproductivly essential of (in her case) a genuine male emitting stimuli, in both of our cases the stimuli was audio. The rare and most modern evolutionary trait is the simultaneous(I say this empathetically because were using language the figure this out not a live experiment going on right now or some shit) Emotional involvemint by both parties “while during coitus” bein, to into words, (I know that you’ve been loveing me so im gunna love you back) tho words are sweet but it doesn’t compare to the same message sent in the biologically, exceptional quality thats essential to the balance of the bodies involved and there connection to one another, the planet and the unverse, sound and where it comes from and the intention or involuntary reason for its presence and amplitude, dissonant or harmonious, perhaps my reading, my being on the line was the drone, and the harmony was her dissonant siren song. Its our new found puprose as humans to when ready reproduce.  Love is highly evolved, and requires corporeal and linguistic and energetic action on both parties to be confirmed as true love. It works like a battery(the casing of the battery is the relationship here), one end needs what the other end has access to; the positive end has its own energy attached to it(the juice in the battery, posetve energy),(in this case this is our one, the girl)attractive body(+end)and a mind (the positive ends underside that’s harboring all the energy in the friendship/relationship (battery casing)the negative port on the other end of the battery on its outside (my mind in this case)is permanently attached through the casing of the battery to the mind of the desired, this girls memories thoughts etc. (the underside of the positive end) and not her body. Why because the casing is plastic,( the friendship) isnt enough to join the two to create a circuit, but the love(the battery juice made up of strange elemets) attracted by her negative mind(the underside of the positive end) and makes her body(the tip) fertile and ready to create electricity(communication) only the casing of battery acid(loving friendship)charged by my positive actions(the acid is positively charged by the underside of my mind(the negative ends underside) which represents my body, which behaves like the warm intentions of my actions, which positively go nowhere unless her mind (negative underside of the top of the battery)gets inspired by the love in the friendship (which is positively charged yearning, my positive actions played lovingly into her open mind(negative underside of the top) inspiring her to do something with her body(top of the battery positive) in response to my positive charge on her mind and all the love it can unleash,  for the sake of warm intentions she turns on a cell phone,, her phone(or wire casing) the copper thread in the wire(the signal) the positive charge in the wire, (her calling me) and her hooking up the wire touching it to the negative end of the battery(her bodies actions and warm intentions inspired by a recognisable charge I embody that she identifies with(my body and life being negatively charged with aa positive mind and her beautiful face and attractive personality.)  my phone rings and I see its her, the one, I immediately am inspired that its her charge the one im missing positively lovely, what is she up to? and i pick it up,

A simple circuit at this point, is her using a tool or wire to send all her positive energy through to her body by using her minds attraction to positive energy, by simply attaching the wire it sends the positive energy not just through her mind and body but back down on her body, when the extension (the wire) is put on my mind(the negative end of the battery in this case, my mind),deliberately by her, sending the energized current of the love in our friendship (juice in the battery) into my mind(the end of the battery with a bump) by way of the wire (cell phone signals connecting our phones and her voice and energy being the current) all the positive energy meets the negative charge of my mind and then that foreign female tone (positive electrical current) the positive energy stemming from the juice, the love, that’s made up of elements like lithium(in the case of the battery and in my case as well) this element and other alloys, the whole chemistry of the battery acid, holds the charge positive because energy flows, and love or acid can be charged by the bi polarity of conducters meaning they are opposing one anothers charge on the outside leaving potential for power over nature,  while on the inside, inside the battery the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, litteraly loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symetricaly and quite similarly to your perfect face and body  only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me,  from the beach into the city,  while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella,  drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I  stop, wait my energys charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and  the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged ablilitys that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit cant explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery,  the almost dead battery, poetic licence and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, Ive always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know theres more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours,  in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, theyd knock me out, blow to the head, ill miss away you time instead,  that lilliad inside your mind

DRONe3

.<0_O> — — µ — <_<)))) DRONe³ And other Poems and writings by James McFarlane Telepath/Necromancer James McFarlane·Friday, May 18, 2018 . Telepath may 2018 Pencil sharp, smoke a dart early morning engines start Crescent moon blue grass tunes frost on the window and my spoon. Dopamine and serotonin, pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life, on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. Train passing dread grasses, Sage burning sky lasting, electric currents flowing now, necromancer up and down, Dopamine and serotonin pain relief telepath droning, a walk of life on a limb buds froze until the dawn of spring. -Seumas Necromancer May 2018 Floating wearily but in some comfort overhead. Making sheets move on my bed. Conversations in and out, speaking without our mouths. Blue fires light up your darkness please don’t ever find me as heartless I love you always one two three here’s the bass now jam with me Exhale eternally into the mic, angel choirs out on strike. Necromancer up and down, rein / radius across town, soon I will return with thee to this town/life Ville/vie. –Seumas (New Revisions) James McFarlane +Seamus to thee, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code DRONe -Seumas (James) Monday, February 22, 2016 OK thisone’s right off the wall: this is a strangely written and personal poem It’scalled “Siren heart Drone” (meant for a mature audience) A’ hem…. I’m nervous, I don’t freestyle often I wish there was a way to put this near the bottom of my timeline, it’ll be my latest and greatest lyric though, + POSETIVE INDUCTION — The positive attraction to your conductive psyche, is a form in itself existing in me, subjective almost ironically, the circuitry, being both electricity and imaginary cranked up high by your fun chemistry by way of the cerebral. (Which is flattering me) The circuitry with chemistry minus proximity, (causing a reaction deliberately) the electrical frequencies that you received from me were; artsy descriptions in accents I read. Other elements of me manifesting masculinity through my dorky frequency, gave off feedback that, officially; for me heralded the dawn of freed energy. So… metaphysical seed, dropped and sewn that day, (I guess what I am trying to say is): My girl my girl, don’t lie to me, oceans away your eyes can see, my bending sending light like this, in response to; the drone from your white laced lips. For the of lack of your treble and charge of your base, my “methadone”, White Light/White Heat, can take its place, anti-acidic mantra chi, surrounding me, a black dot in space. Divided by the curve encased, the metaphysical takes place. The fact that we’re in touch today, makes sirens blare and drones play, I’ll send this over right away, and then appropriately play, ‘beautiful face’ a newer way, I could elaborate for 3 straight days. Now what follows is what’s next on the fret board of your hex. It’s between, us; a fish out of net. So this will be all they get. ok here goes, ya, this is for the ladies in town I know that sounds weak but I blame the moons energy for you cute young women never being around when I finally spit the rhyme on solid ground, neway this is about you, you and the town where I choose, and choose to settle down instead of just stop swimming and drown, no more worries, no frowns, I’m gunna work it on out, cause I’m bound for the tides, not the sound, yea, ok, you know what I mean, yea k here I go, you ready? You steady? I stole the crown from the underground, I thought it would look nice with your gown, I’m upward bound so, are you down with my verbs and nouns? I don’t freestyle rap but this might as well be,flowin literally right now cause i come down hard with a sound that this new town including your highness have minds to breakdown, so get down breakdown, my chic mystique-psychologique will make you turn around and blush while your current boyfriends drunk on the ground cause he substitutes love with down, he doesn’t have an ear, genetically, to hear your siren sound for which I was born to kinetically harmonize, desensitize and heal your weary eyes. This is the treatment we need now ill even show you how, like a bow that goes up and down, helping us resonate these bloody strings, while the clipper ship sinks…… Sinks with the low tide.c’mon lets head home. The moons making my fire rise. That means soon it will be high tide, the ocean spray it stings my eyes, so let’s go inside, its morning time, look at color in the sky the sun is just about to rise. MY clipper ship’s on seas of rye. Empty bottles of scotch catch her in the eye. I’m not afraid of all those guys, they’re lucky they even have a sty. I’ve seen farms that would make you cry. These pale blue eyes are all but mine. And yours are like that brand of dye, that in our last summer together, we ALL tried, permanent like the purple in my mind’s eye or the in the dimly lit sky the night I officially died, all from a med, instead of one I took 10, benzodiazepines, all I wanted to do was compound the prescribed effect at the right dose they make a nervous wreck feel and appear normal so I took them, now I’m in debt, but only tried this cause u have me in check, ready to knock the crown off my head, make it your golden cauldron instead. You know I’m good with shocking steel and know how to forge blend anneal so this golden crown is probably real, and I assure u from the other room that it’s safe to use took a meal. Only cause it’s my deal I leave out the part about removing toxic alloys by melting steel, adding chemicals from the field and as the method never revealed used those same chemicals, that we all feel, all the time in our head to make tiny slow moving particles to turn make gold out of lead. So neways with confidence I said GO AHEAD! But I couldn’t lie to her, so I yelled from the other room, “u should know, that thing is gold but it use to be lead. She laughed, hesitated, placed the pewter cauldron on the stove instead and put the golden crown on her head. She finally walked down the hall and into her room where I was using dust pan and broom, she didn’t say nething, just got up on her bed which was shrouded with purple threads forgetting her glasses, still she picked up my book and read, I said here ill read aloud for you instead, within a few minutes of reading she started to turn red, the stove was on low so she got herself fed THAN served us both breakfast in bed. SUDDENLY I awake and see that we are parked at the end of a pier in some town in Quebec, I yell out stupidly from my stuper, WERE ON A PIER! She had good laugh about that occurrence on several occasions. but ya I took too many pills and was all sleepy on our road trip, all in all, yet again, I fed my head then lost all my cred, it being an accident, it made me sleep like the dead, that’s when I lost you, or you lost me, literally you looked everywhere and couldn’t find me, conscious or not, id soon figure id been stung by the bee, the most painful thing however, and my only memory was later that night when you were beside me, or was it he that got there before me, ok now I must stop and back up, the cheap words pouring from me, telling the details of this pathetic story it’s pissing me off, like losing the love of your life to a drug, and then officially to drugs plural, like 5 years of fucking up pretty much following this one night, the moment you realized you had lost the one girl, the one you compare every girlfriend you get ultimately fucking that up too, the one. its caused ache in whets left of my drug affected love starved blackened heart and caused my excellent poem to go right off the rails, so I’ll get on topic and ill even do it in rhyme, what inspires me to try to try, it’s the ache in my heart that is its key function now when I think of this girl and am reminded of the moment I lost her. ok here goes, regardless, we were in bed together, and from your sleepy head where your soul lies and you can never die, I heard your memories cry, and as I realized all the days I tried so hard to try but wouldn’t, couldn’t try and now I can’t cry is because I was always too shy in your unfulfilled eyes despite being my inspiration for the last 4 or 5 years of drugs and art with your recent if u can even call it that separation the focus intensifies about u and other girls like the sweet PortugueseIrish girl from the only psych ward I recommend at hotel diu in Kingston where I was actually treated properly (maybe cause it’s a catholic hospital, maybe cause I was so fucked up I appeared catatonic for days till this fox brought me down and romanced me for a month) she’s your competition….who contributed to my psychological cardiomyopathy however, a number of “the ones” but evenbefore that I was fucked up, I was the youngest psychiatric patient in Ontario or something, I learned how to smoke inside a smoking room in the shithole Scarborough grace when I was fifteen, I think I checked myself in hen I was twelve just to get away, that may have been what that asshole head of psychiatry was talking about. I also hit the highest highs, and the most demonic abysses of suicidal advanced psychotic depression, and took more abuse for it from nurses drs and the police, not to mention my family, but I still unconditionally love and am loved by my parents and grandparents, Jesus, I sacrificed my life and goals to save my families souls literally offed myself when I was 16 years old to end the devils elaborate foothold on me the people around the household appliances and machines, the behavior of living things the weather and the temperature of the room depending on my tortured state the only common theme is that others hurt and share it with me and my empathy kind of bounces back like an echo, I express and receive the grief while later, I only know this because when I fall, which I don’t do nemore thanks to medical science, its all about them.. but now this, she cried in her sleep and the only difference about these tears the ones that dried before her, is that the tears were for the two of us,not for being hurt but for me getting hurt and that hurt her, and it came out of her in a subconscious later state, kind of like me, this happened something like five years ago and it never gets old, ok , so here’s how THIS sad story goes; back to you, we were basically sleeping on the ground, I was tied up and bound, mothers little helper’s cheque bounced, I stupidly blame the devil in benzos but as of last Chinese new year I now denounce him, clonazepam is free from sin,(the cure), which I am resistant to so even though in the name of a better life I took 1/16th of an ounce I was still wide awake laying beside you, thinking only to myself about how I fucked up, it wasn’t even my own script at the time like u even need to know this it was a gift from the big Mc the tragically crip former editor in chief of legal manuscript, this bug makes the dj tick, and he made me, (sick) so (to this day I thank god for the count and amount per pill per day,,, throw your troubles away and pray that it was ok to stray from your holy bible, “psychology today”) So I was now bound for the pound, complete and total disgrace all around, from the moment u made that sound I knew our plans were going down that I would leave town, shoot smack and somehow return because YOU specifically gave the instruction to COME BACK! But things got whack I dropped out of school after taking philosophy which I passed, took drugs then relaxed let the nothing drone blare and move towards and away from the past managed to stay out of the psycho shack and somehow followed the chemical and psychological path out of the woods, fuck that was one long sidetrack, but it’s over, now, it took a year of wandering to end it but I did so…back before I initially left town your eye lids were down. I’d spent our whole friendship collectively letting you down by being ur favorite one in town and not responding in a way that could let us…. Fuck I was a clown,ever since I pulled a sigmen froid and used white to get off opiates it’s been renown but like the psychologist before me once declared, down (heroin) so satisfying in the right dose, has basically fulfilled their open ended prediction for the drugs future, in one shot like vaccine, the queen of all drugs, administered in the highest healthy dosage intravenously is the cure all found in Montreal, and then a deliberate clean cut from all non prescribed recreational narcotics, that is until the dreaded lady in white shows up on ur doorstep, I say let her in, and move away never to see her again, with the experience and satisfaction of the act of consuming heroin as your catalyst to change your life and only take clonazepam. So before all that we had a healthy friendship, it was doomed but I loved you so u kept me around and there was all sorts of ways we got down without ever fooling around except this time I discreetly describe further down when my phone ran out of batteries while you went to town , I thought I was a fuckin martyr because all id make u do is dance, that’s the gods truth so baaaack to me not being a creep, I geometrically see the opposing symmetrical verticy of our rhombus reveal its true ego as FUCKING TRAPAZOID when I hear your inner pain, I’m no hypnotist (yet) but u were zonked after a day of mosh pitting ultimately falling for the other guy, while I slept in the grass like an ASS. you let out a whimper in your sleep and two out of three of us knew, this chick is deep, from then on I took the title of weak, I had let my biological ancestors down with swords in their hands and in my hand your crown, and still I let you down, AND YOU STILL even tried several sexy and awkward times to make it happen and I let you down, u can tell a social disease when the same set of words are used multiple times to rhyme with other words that have that sound i.e. : I let you down. In that strange little town. It’s been well over a year and to end on a harmonious note after all this purple melancholy. I’m gunna say two words to you and they are not” “I do” It’sI’m sorry. I’m sorry lately for this poem, but mostly I’m sorry for not maturing into the man you thought I could be. I’m recovered from my early episodes now, took 16 years but I used the gear to properly hear and respond without fear, if only I did this within the time frame we had, Now were both sad. And I don’t wanna upset u, ur glowie or ur boyfriend or neone else, soo I’m gunna play a song, it’s called : one thing that keeps this black heart beating””(referring to my heart: that “upturned bass drum” The thing that keeps it beating is the dissonant and strangely beautiful siren song that echoes in my mind as the inspiration, “love” and the knowledge that one can be loved and in my case always, I only philosophies with the partial use of solid evidence that I have been loved by the one I love therefore at and for that moment(pretty much after the momentmy phone died, after 30 seconds of reading trainpotting aloud, there was a subconscious subjective foggy notion that was there to be discovered by the psyche, at this moment I can prove using circumstantial evidence and truth know by both partied involved, the dependant factor being me loving her forever, and the independent factor her being a single indecisive woman looking for a man who will love her forever combining to make a positive chemical and physical reaction, that is the fundamental tradition that is the goal of all living things on this plant and its most evolutionary form of it is when it’s “Love based” one giving the other what its most in need of and deprived of, the others love, not the love of a friend, but physical experiments that are love based, expressing love on not necessarily a physical level (like if ur on the phone or sumthing)but specifically a sexual level. The compounding factors that result in reactions happenings crescendos babies,, are when the energy isn’t circular but moves in one direction, when the one party is starved, and the other has a wealth, and the act of giving not just what the yearning needs, but what he wants, when the desired with all her wealth, imparts her secret harbored denied expression love though tradional reproduction based activities, that friendship goes from “limbo” into action, even for a moment, through technology that alerts the senses, in this case hearing, whether the deprived is even present or physically participating, isn’t the point the point is that the foggy notion of true love was expressed transmitted in a traditional and pivotal form, even though I picked up the transmission through one sense, my ability to hear, the value of those vibrations, though lo-fi and misinterpreted until the last few seconds before the line went dead the compounding nature of the universe is seen between you and me, me and the chemicals and elements the acid the love that is positively charged by me and only me, in this battery regardless of proximity my charge is still the key, literally loving you moved energy directly making me alternately free but obviously reflects its imperfections symmetrically and quite similarly to your perfect face and body only introspectively and this thing I call negativity you existentially use to control and manipulate me by means of electrical currents like a shark in the sea, but the ocean currents in our world somehow moved me so far we couldn’t be but as the drone turns up the heat as chemists cure insanity, inevitably the duality of the friendship followed the trail right back to me, from the beach into the city, while metaphysical acid rain fell on her black umbrella, drops of synthetic nightshade provided a ground and a side effect equaled a perfectly balanced sound resembling a circuit around my neck and down to the nervous wreck, I stand and smoke out on the deck, and remember that was how we met I stop, wait my energies charge self provides, enough energy to survive, with my new social activity the acid, charge, size, speed and proximity and the voltage of the current and relativity. My positively charged abilities that betray the moon like your fertility, a simple circuit can’t explain the lovesick emotional pain still forming drops of acid rain only strengthening my brain, its time I have to get reactive, send this to her radically brilliant highly attractive yet negatively charged mind where chemicals of another kind will get inspired as she reads about batteries and his energy (that she secretly lovingly keeps rightfully under her locks and key with her sharp mind and memory should recall the flattery, the almost dead battery, poetic license and mad hattery finally gets me through the matter we, lost all sense of pattern, see, the point was electricity, and keyboards I would never see, played like a former prodigy, with drones that resonate with me just barely metaphysically, through my sleep deprived behavior induced heightened state, I’ve always been able to wait, epiphanies sometimes come too late, but revelations give me faith that your negative mind and my positive state, memories of how u altered fate, I know threes more to come but wait, don’t get offended by my state , my batteries dead so save the date, remember wiser things I’ve depictions finished in your head, an electrician would have briefly said, what took me hours, in ten minutes u will have read, I must finish without my meds, they knock me out, blow to the head, I’ll miss away you time instead, that lilliad inside your mind….it’s way too late you’re so unkind, but one important thing u need, to know I know u love to read, do not read too much to your seed, it makes a flower yer indeed, with pain killing power guaranteed, but this makes a subconscious need to find a source for output feed, destined to be completely freed ad finally have the urge to read, its therapy apparently, the experiment of reading aloud and they drift off on angels clouds, you think their gunna make you proud, well brace yourself, speakers are loud, they developed and were well endowed, language and its mystic power it not to be strewn on the flowers, this is my dependant variable, the words the use on me were terrible, a bird a seed knowledge unbearable, though every word is understandable, hypnotic methods subconscious dependable, lovely developmental psychology is the cause of my constant source of energy what I was born to do was reap, infinite knowledge in my sleep a steady drone of literature, I’m older now administer reality and life in place of shame rejection and disgrace, aside from my abilities that serve me independently, instinct survival evolution, speed all factors meant to help me breed, but would you read that to your seed, your surly growing potent weed, I’m not a normal human being I spend time speaking hearing seeing, proving while your disagreeing now the sheep are all fleeing, my purpose hear is slowly weaning I’m a negative source of positive energy, that means nothing drones glowies and friends that are enemies, all that I needs a path and an receiver, a sound to ride on, subwoofer and tweeters, it’s the music u shared with me that keeps me going The proof that our signal reached desired objectives, was clear to my ear which contained an elective, my minds using psychology to be less selective, behavioral science removes the block painlessly love, loss and malpractice grew my circuitry aimlessly, evolving survival instincts team with nature, my chemical background makes life like a phase, the instincts resulting are acute like a razor and amplified abilities through manipulating manipulative chemicals without wavers, resulting in behavior that can reach and amaze her… the extent of the damage is to be overlooked, by using knowledge and memory or reading a book design and time weren’t key features its transference of whines from student to teacher, let me out of detention you feminine creature ill read aloud it’s the right way to reach her, the demand and supply was shot at the sky and with lasers for eyes that reflect off her kind I was surprised to find that in no time I heard her wine, go out of her mind, and through her elective design I read junkie sublime and the fidelity was just fine for my desensitized mind. Literally proving her love up against my undying lazerlove therefore, proving that from that moment in time It was (now literally) one(the one) and another(me) falling “in love “officially identified by the subjective and objective forms that equal true love, for a time, which in rhyme and time I now feel it was divine, it’s began and ended in one harmonious line (in a Scottish accent no less) and buried in our minds getting weaker over time the signal is dying the whine and her trying has kept me flying farther away for lack of a sign that she was officially mine, but my nose it did grind on the stone learning life through the drone all on my own stealing crowns off of thrones, almost completely destroying my home, getting dipped in chrome, and then ground to the bone,, but that’s ok now because I how I know, I made her come through a phone, I’ve reaped what id sewn, now I am grown, with skills to hone no more wearing a cone, from the unknown to the known heralded by the morningdrone which is an inaudible tone interacting metaphysical rods and cones in my everlasting home among milestones made of greymatter behind bone in the form of the intangible moan that has royalties owned by the one xylophone a tone so foreign and feminine it may be that of a banshee or crone, the soil of my subconscious, is where I’ve been instructed and shown but my chance was blown there already something growin that knows the suns light is shown, now I’m alone, why did I buy that bus ticket when I could have flown. Another way of iterating this love story is an s follows introduction, obstruction instruction, induction, seduction production reduction destruction I’m trying to link two portions of this production, causing a reaction like a light turning on send notification from yin to yang (2 great friends of the opposite sex ultimately consummating their union in the way nature wanted it to be) but for us it was highly evolved in that even over the lo-fi filter of cell phones she was sending her love, whether she got off or not that id like ton know, but,, I got the drone of her during, (which if I’m not wrong is typically the main attraction for most women, their anatomy makes for a better “during” in her case conveniently, I’ll admit, without my flawed physical presence, I’m sure she didn’t just give up when my phone ran out of batteries, she was by the banks of her own lagoon, , the stimuli for me, the understanding an witnessing this correlative reaction, correlative because based on all the evidence, the great friendship which was WE were In Love,,,, that passes by my standard and I’m a philosophy grad, this Idea of me and this one girl being in love ISNT EVEN PRAGMATIC like most of my theories, the ONLY thing that get in the way of it being classified as nething between us other than, well I’m afraid to word it frankly because it makes y philosophy look dumb, the only factor threatening this TRUTH, this explainable objective form, is.. the time frame, the setting and the timing of the whole ordeal, my argument is that my reserved intense devotion that was pretty much spellbound, was appropriately (although delicately and let’s say modernly)relieved back to square one, literally and true even though it’s in the days ahead, metaphysic means dead.\\ I’m pretty lonely, so I make allot of art these days, like so; since she left me for dead and we both had left town, with thoughts of her crying asleep on the ground, my mind plays a drone, just to keep the pain down, it’s the girls very essence, oh to hear those pipes sound, if I was there this reel could have burned her house down, But our minds were both trying, Scottish lyrics I had, her bagpipes were sighing, and droning like mad, even though I was dying to get under her plaid, her fingers were flying and the lyrics were “rad the sound of her drones blared through the aero phones, I had broken a string and the bow had no rozen, but her body remembered what she had forgotten, string breaking caused her heat up and harden, this dissonant silence was her chance to depart from his flaws and his jigs and his odds and his rigs and ivy wrapped wand honey drippin upon this Venus in tartan who gushed forth the art of his masculine heart, the yin joins the yang and d string goes twang, The key that she played in was the string that I broke;I awoke in a doria mile off the coast. I swear by the sword of Ulysses and QueenMary’s crown you can’t quiet this siren when she fools around. Sending me to the moon and abyss on her sound It’s siren heart drone and that’s written in stone like I said, STELLAR, and you can TELLHER, most likely shell be a be a BETTER SPELLER, most likely ull say THE WORST THING EVER cause you’re a BULLSHIT SELLER, wave got mutual friends that FLOCK TOGETHER, social cannibals up shit creek FOREVER “sharp fanged teeth sheep” identified by Brethr in touch with friends of mine with FEATHERS, who govern karma AND THE WEATHER harmonizing OUR ENDEVOUR dissonance and TAKING PLEASURE in currents charged “+”, sea vessel PROPELLERS droning on for OH SWEET NEVER, nothing “like” inevitably BETTER the next “day, mon” frère, myself sharply dressed, a new pair of ‘GO GETTERS’ high, but fly, “the local YELLER” inscribes, as I dictate the true, (and prescribed), (in “”blood)-”LETER”! …BUY LETTER!”technique””’s psychology thesis of persuasion,-through love cure for; pain from shame stemming from taking the blame for the psychopaths that are perfectly sane who corporally, “embodying hells flames, wicked games to derange, the use of tools to cause pain, so the hands free to gain more control without shame ….and words that confuse and lead them in. vein cutting through lies and psychosomatic pain” making it rain your blood to put out the flames, an empty vessel that openly claims he righteously bears the right to OFFSET karma in his favorite time double negatives stuck on rewind with the fist or the tool of thing without mind, just current flowing into itself sustaining itself by shackling you with a voice that speaks truths that the vessel and devil greedily use to ultimately abduct you consume love your subconscious would refuse to give, to lose, so you wind kicking yourself while he rips on your soul defacing and displacing what’s left of you, what set you apart from a caved in shoe who’s uneven because the others got two, souls are unbreakable but if he breaks you, ill have the words the voice and the truth, the vessel in which to put soul into you, love and affection reflecting on you a new pair of shoes and so basically you feeling loved and in good mood no longer producing that parasite food, by walking and talking, souls in your shoes, while my bare feet support prescribed truth, a chemical network of mes and you ultimately held together with glue your love is the only way I can get through my psychological problems of which I have used to heat cook and serve us both food they drive me to supplementing love with miscues, attempts to draw a good picture of shoes, that drawn the attention of someone like you, or someone who offers a love I can’t refuse, because it me who also has many a bruise, the glue the chemical I trust and I use are prescribed and administered with bruit force and tools, leaving the chemically gifted unloved and unused and undone on the run with the songs you have sung, giving u satisfaction, and leaving u hung out to dry by the sick and the dumb, and the one, that u can give a gift to, is the only way we can say I love you and the fact that we are is what makes it true now I can scrape this shit right off your shoe, here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singing the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones too, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’mtired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code,I’ll let the field talke care I m old, its time to end thiflodi broke the mouldand me with my everything about the shoe, its maker your sou out your soul leaving with bound by psychosocial with day moon SETTERS. home made psychopath GET ER, and lose her to a knitted SWEATER meant to the and if shit hits the fan in my house you become a fuckin CAVE DWELLER you officially for me heralded the dawn of freed energy so metaphysical seed dropped and sewn that day I guess what I a tying to say is seroquel can kill the day and lithium when charged can phase can kill your kidney and your craze over sirens who’ve been underground their perfect face and al around static in the air and sound of talismans and something foud induction tells you write this down what she conducts may flood the town, and this guythatts on the other line isn’t he a project of mine, sais nurse so cute and fine that flirt with my bipolar mind could his stimuli be cut, (if my nurse heard that shed bust my nut the think I’m guna get more worse nuclear winters parallel universe but bipolar ppls irony ill crack the joke an ice your nuclear explosion twice a day while I’m away leading weak dicks astray but giving your negative drones away the moans that I’m familiar with the point is I’m sick, was born with antennae metaphic that can even change channels like sappic girl on girl to girl on me altering duality and that what I get for free cable metaphysically so u better charge your battery, start the car pray she needs a guy with speed, instead of the duality of loving and love being received define love for me because lm low on batteries, finally the irony iron like steel I’m not even funny she gave me a drone that carried me home plate metal armor still that suckers dethroned all because of the ironic poem guaranteed to call my home circuitry and sacred tones, hooked up to my broke dying alone charge that she hears in my voice instinct are what’s the driving force to be my Venus in furs of course striking my eardrums while art of a new form could cure my heart, when deprivation and avant-garde combine to make things into art the the thing that makes drones stop and start my wordsandfingers take a form that independently grows horns, what an art to harmonize your frequencies with, smart, you dirty little butter tart you were supposed to cure my heart at least u got it throughtome you rising storm makes my anteenae start to channel lo-fi forms a and v imnow starting to clearly see I got to hear pure femininity express its love physically, while the ironic truth is easy to see, that my talisman masxulinity had no hand in physically and so my strengths like mediocrity, thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculine frequency that was enough to ride that came through the airwaves only a dined, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjectively means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite ur reaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely ur still a part of me, like the wasted energy of a missing battery that from within bears a charge, that was meant to be, the high voltage current, of hot energy. wat a grT TRIP THIS IS, ALTHOUGH ONG AND UNCOMFORTABLE AT LES I STILL HAVE ROCK AND ROLL AND BY DIVINE TIMING WE TOO A STROLL ADNTALKED A LITTLE THATS MY GOAL AND NOTHING DRONES AND HEAVY STONES WERE LEVITATED WITH THE MOAN OF SIRENSS BUT YOUR NOT A PHONE AND NO SUPRIZE CANT LEAVE ALONE OW I THRIV OFF DIAL TONED CAUSE IM DEPENDANT ON YOU STONE THE TALISMAN YOU CALL MY HHOME AND THAT TIE YOU CALLED ME ON THE PHON YOU WERE IN MY HEAD SAFE IN YOUR HOME BAD TIMING AND A HEAVY TONE BATTERIES DEAD: NOW WERE NOTHING DRONES…………………………………………………………….. thisescwe took a short boat that sent out a masculin frequency that was enough toride that came through the airwaves only a denied, to start your engines, and the elements it’s the charge that ironically subjective by means of a whim of a, separating you from me and that despite urreaction objective by only induction by the ma lonely Seroquel can ‘kill. The day’, and lithium (when charged) can phase, can kill your kidneys and your ‘“crazy” laser ray’s perspective.’ Meant for sirens, waves, underground stalactites, space, and drops of acid rain onto your base. Meant to cauterize with time and phase the straight; your sex, the Vikings take, and that edge they use to reap and waste. ((their secret way through; to slice through the glazed over passageway, that freezes waves of blood they made. Turned to crimson ice seen by my red hot rays, melt into salty ocean sprays) Then not so far away at night I kill the day and reap twilight, my heat turns from red to white like scars that weep acid rain despite my efforts, however insane, you do this over and over again) Relief; from emotional THEN/BY physical pain. In that order, we’re both deranged. here goes, gimme my cloths my cigarettes prescribed glue, a roof over my head a bed and you, and then maybe I’ll start wearing shoes, here’s my complex singin the blues, from my effort unsatisfied underground nothingdrones, its letting go and walking away from it to choose to lose, this is therapy now I need to go, you know it and I got the show on the road I’m tired and now am holding a rose, I’m loosing my grip on the following code, It’s meant for: a couple; of different: ppl 1 knø james ((pérsunµli); ‘(urThInKn èù¹d “Like¹¹ i+ Th0µGh))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ) — ¹o-² øس=FOUR!!!!!!!!²O_O³⁴!! (0_0)T0o?O_o)❤µ¼FOR¼ldd.”( þ+¹na!’(LOL!)?,X&Y” =ø(þ iN þÉd àvèç¹<>³µ)/(µø+þ²)ùþ³@ — ¹²³¹²³¹²³¹²³ James McFarlane•

Ideas About mental Illness — James McFarlane Here’s my theory on paranoia. (Usually considered a negative symptom of psychosis) It can help gather information or misinform those who experience it. Even in wellness it is always potentially present in all of us. It’s a survival instinct. It makes us more attentive. My unique experience and understanding is when paranoia and other symptoms are present, heightened and amplified alertness to important information perceived by the senses is collected and whatever data is missing the brain either fills it in with logical thought or logical hallucination in some cases. I will further iterate this several ways for you to better grasp it. For most people there is so much excess data you wind up believing a falsity. Simple logic should let you know best which is most accurate among the extra data collected by suspicion, inner thoughts and hallucination ultimately fitting like Lego into the fractured “factual” data perceived. I believe mostly it is our internal sense of logic that is used to make hallucinations like dreams that appear similar to our regular reality. It is your sense of logic that determines how accurate the thought or hallucination might be compared to reality. It is hard to determine between reality and hallucination because hallucination adheres to reality. But if you can detect like in a lucid dream (aware of being in a dream) that it’s a hallucination you’re ok. It’s not that difficult to determine what thought or hallucination fits if you’re experiencing (or expecting) allot of symptoms having an automatic thought process that simplifies things by showing the most accurate possibility alone to the individual by involuntary thoughts and possibly hallucination. This can be a more accurate depiction of what’s not reachable by the actual senses. The point or idea is that hallucinations and involuntary thoughts mimic reality as best they can, so, they can be used to determine what is beyond our senses reach either corresponding with the senses themselves (hallucination) or through mind talk (which is the method that most mimics what we call telepathy and is much more controlled and has less effect on your behaviour and environment than hallucination). This mind talk or “intrusive thoughts” can be our sense of logic. It’s our sense of what’s real that makes up our involuntary thoughts and hallucinations so they’re may be an ounce or two of truth in them even though they aren’t real they can be identical ideas to what is really there. This is to be used for those who can’t see or hear what are out of reach of their senses like sonar or radar and further aid those who have and impairment or just want to experiment with extending their senses. This only applies to the unwell. Like I have said amphetamine could mimic the hypomanic state in regular people perhaps. This could be a tool for treating a range of mental disorders. Depression, lack of communication in certain critical mental conditions.(Alzheimer’s etc.) It’s not just guessing at involuntary thoughts and hallucinations, the tool combines accurate and distorted data collected by the senses. This extends the senses that help us try to understand. (Only some of us may have this as a mental pattern). You may be calling this a delusion well I call a delusion an idea. And remember, an idea can make the body including the brain do interesting things. Mono ideo dynamics Determining what’s real and what’s not isn’t a problem here, you know what’s a thought and an actual sound or hallucination when this is occurring so if they combine to make a more accurate awareness with good results than it doesn’t matter whether it’ telepathy or a mental tool isolated to the mind its generating data for the individual I assure you. Collecting data even from other people’s minds is definitely a factor in this theory (it’s a tangent but it’s important.) Involuntary thought is inner thought that appears to be info coming from an obvious source or other person. This is when the argument for delusion is most appropriate. Telepathy is a possible conclusion in the case of mind chatter or involuntary or external thoughts unlike ‘sense extension’ which is a potential tool involving similar aspects but also the actual environment. The mind to mind thing doesn’t involve physical reality like the sense extension theory which involves hearing and assuming all five senses if you were sick enough could improve the perception of our environment by way of hallucination corresponding with the senses, verses logical lingual additions to your line of thought (involuntary thoughts) which can be thought alone (mind talk) This opens a window to hybrid hearing combining involuntary thought with semi audible data, this was my first discovery and personal experience along the line of useful mental activity. So I would call it all external or involuntary mental data. The reason I included the telepathy as idea in this was because sense extension which may be provable is using the same material our thoughts are made of suggesting that the other ideas are worth experimenting with. I suggest mental information can be projected into the metaphysical reality affectively by a person just like shouting a person’s name. This is blatantly how it works from my perspective. What we imagine goes out into the air and some of us are there to hear it within our thoughts; mind chatter. Talking to yourself in your head as well as other transmissions or incoming additions. Not something we do all the time. Some people rarely do it or experience it. These are introspective expressions nevertheless they are the fabric of what sense extension involves. So if sense extension, (because it uses the senses, reality and hallucination/involuntary thought) can be tested and valuable info is collected from those tests, because of its use of involuntary thoughts which mimics telepathy, it could help prove or add merit to the idea of telepathy and its other explanations that are as follows. Proving telepathy involves seeing how things like sense extension is in the same weave as actual things we use or experience like thought, mental chatter, hallucination, dreams. This part of the universe is becoming objective when using a hybrid or functional form to better understand our surroundings. Just believing in these functions and experiencing them improves your regular perception and observational skills. These are hybrid metaphysical tools for perceiving your surroundings by use of hallucination and or thought and actual fractured data picked up by the senses. I tackle this mind chatter idea more so because it’s a solid symptom that doesn’t fail, like hallucination often does. Thoughts in the form of language coming from people around you or your multipersonalitied conscience is a good thing as long as it’s a good thing. When it no longer is in the range of being able to be used as a tool, these thoughts can be turned off or turned on by meds and belief or disbelief in the idea. But when it’s happening properly, like in hypomania, it does act as an aid in awareness of what’s most likely going on in other people’s thoughts. It informs you of the most likely thought usually in relation to you, aiding you every time by making you aware of something you didn’t know before. Word for word telepathy is a miracle, mental chatter that informs you of what’s most accurately going on in other people’s heads by way of involuntary lingual statements in the mind is not. It’s worth investigating, it’s a gift that has never led me to harm, only understanding. The fact that it’s in your head makes it a passive process where you have the option of responding or not, verbally or mentally if you’re a believer in telepathy. You can have communications, often in the form of mental lingual impressions from people around you, as long as their chattering in their heads. More often they respond verbally or through body language. (This could be also called a thought related delusion, and it probably is) Like sense extension it helps figure out without effort what’s most likely going on somewhere else but this involves getting a mental impression of what’s going on in someone else’s head and apparently only if It’s about you or directed to you, mostly. Telepathy and sense extension go hand in hand. What’s real and usable and what’s a symptom may need to be looked over and not just thrown in the isolation chamber. Mind chatter and thought insertion are two different things I think. Thought insertion means you think someone or something else is in your head and it is overwhelming. Mind chatter or “telepathy” follows a pattern of logic that is more precise than your own usually, it follows a rule, I am certain of it. That’s why it’s better to use cause it’s your intuition delivered lingualy. Thought insertion is like having someone else in control, whereas mind chatter is somewhat under control and mostly in your control as you are the experienced one. Involuntary thoughts (other people’s voices) could be telepathy and if it follows such a dynamic and structured law it should not be called thought insertion. Sense extension is something more practical and objective than telepathy type thinking, but it is untested and like I said, I deal with mind talk even when I am well and it is always accurate and helpful. The idea of partly using data from the peripheries of our trusted senses shows that these elements are not to be underrated or mislabelled. The fact that we can only see farther stars in the sky by looking off to the side is a great example of use of the peripheries of our senses. Similar is my experience of seeing peoples more true emotions on their faces when using peripheral vision. Is esp or just one example of a passive and informative hallucination? Let us not throw aside my interpretation of the experience of useful and unique mental activity by giving it the unattractive label of thought insertion when the fundamentals of these ideas may be useful for inventing evolution like tools to reach out into parts of the universe we have not yet studied. Distorted senses combined with an inherent logical thought process that is accurate if not pragmatic I my experience in every case. This could be an opportunity to reopen the study of parapsychology. (The fact that these are just an accurate perception mechanism is good enough). To reveal this delusion, we’ll assume all this is still only going on in one’s active imagination. However using a pattern of brain activity that mimics telepathy as a tool to read his/her environment better is cool; the only difference this has to sense extension is that there is no real life data involved. This in my opinion makes it the most commonly used and confronted with, solid, and most effective tool I deal with. (even when well) There are practices like muscle reading which is getting data through seeing a person’s movement that are examples of a semi proven method that mimic things like telepathy. I propose mental activities that are involuntary and positive like some of the symptoms of a mental illness, could be used as a link between what we see as dysfunctional mental activity and a breakthrough into the endeavour to prove that thoughts are part of our dynamic world as a form and can be used as a medical or social tool. This mental activity in serious cases of unwellness can alter the way we operate, not just the way we think. Paranoia could take over and it could be false data, and the repercussions could crescendo. In their reality and in reality itself. I say listening to your thoughts (whatever form they take) and interpreting them, it’s safer than experimenting with hallucination because mind chatter can be a factor in hypomania and in wellness. Only in the case of hallucination being used in a controlled environment with positive energy being present, for instance with a schizophrenic, they can be very well while hallucinations are still present. If in that state the hallucination tends follow what the senses are trying to perceive and use a situation like the sense extension experiment involving hallucination and obstructed hearing it may prove to be a good tool/idea possibly for aiding the hearing impaired in this situation or a similar situation that works. It could work because it could fill in more data where it was lacking and it may inherently be attempting to be accurate. This attempt is evident in other mental processes mentioned here. In the case of experimenting with this type of thing never should you be depressed manic, psychotic or over whelmed with psychological issues. If you are in an unwell state seek help, but be open to the new ideas that may present themselves to you. Know that the brain is elastic and does heal. The hippocampus and you are always growing. If it’s suggesting that its telepathy aiding us and guiding us that makes you sceptical I’m not going to just drop it. Be pragmatic and get a bit more insight into how it worked for me. First off, all that makes it telepathy as I’ve said is that it only involves thought. One thing that suggests that it is a thought from another source is the amount of unusable but accurate information that comes along with these seemingly incoming transmissions. It behaves like a mental environment that doesn’t involve just you; the metaphysical plain. You mostly hear in your thoughts what applies to you from those around you but there is other mental exclamations at times coming from different sources for different destinations, or in most cases mental exclamations just for themselves. Also getting an involuntary thought of apparently what is being said somewhere completely out of reach of the senses is a factor here. This is bigger than the structure of telepathy. If you are being talked about in the other room the brain informs you of it and who is saying it, this is clearly a survival instinct to gain intelligence of what may be out there and what most likely is, this type of sense may be evidently seen and utilized more by animals than humans. Probably because of the invention of language, putting the sense in recession. These ideas suggest that the metephysical plain is not just in my head but is there for everybody (and that privacy may be an issue.) The experienced and well user of the mental functions could actually receive and send out positive and effective transmissions with a ripple effect, real or not. (for what it’s worth, even to gain confidence and boost chemicals, respond and react accordingly to these transmissions and you’ll find it fits and improves your presence and role in the situation, that’s my experience) while the sick are just spiralling and not even communicating because their usually using negative or confusing behaviour or energy. What’s also evident of its existence is the obviousness the transmissions go both ways. I’m not just getting your impression of me in my thoughts; it’s obvious you’re getting mine. Its conjoint mental activity. It involves everyone but I think it requires a guide. If these are just symptoms, they rarely intensify and do dissipate more or less with wellness. I say if it’s not the metaphysical plain it’s at least explained by two minds appearing to correspond by (often coincidentally) one playing out the others activity as accurately as it can within the mind. This as a law would be evident enough to prove telepathy. I see a constant pattern in when the transmitters communicate, that they are thinking that thought and responding to one another (seen though body language and verbal responses. That’s telepathy like activity rationalised. It’s not always word for word because often I ask and they say no I did not think those words. Apparently it’s a mental impression of yourself delivered in the form of verbal thoughts or inaudible expressions from other people in the vicinity or elsewhere. Finally the hybrid hearing idea.The most effective and safe of the ideas here. (Thought and hearing mixed) It would be hard to disprove because of a lack of qualified candidates and the scenarios required. The hybrid hearing idea like I’ve said is not activity isolated only to thought, but the idea that involves using factual data and the imaginary simultaneously. Sense extension without hallucination. Deciphering between actual sense and involuntary thought is easy, you know what you hear and what you think, they become conjoint in some mental states indicating that the possibility of an extension “fill in the blacks” scenario. Know that this involves either an overactive imagination. The logical involuntary lingual thought mental activity combined with the brains attempt to hear the less audible is a marriage that could create the extension of the impaired or out of reach sense (hearing in this case) What I propose is happening here may be hearing the bass of a conversation because bass carries farther, and your mind places the other frequencies (treble) in the form of an involuntary imaginary sound. I suggest this is too intricate and accurate to be delusion. To actually be aware of the volume according to the distance or nature of the info that comes from not the unknown but an obvious source is evident of that intricacy. The psychotic skills talked about here are among the skills we’re all born with. All humans are capable of psychosis. Which is the foundation of these things. I just find mania to be safe, similar and more of an advantage. Our brains and beings all have an inner need and desire to figure out what is reality. Even when that reality is obstructed, it uses other means to get around to perceiving the world correctly. This line of thought has the potential to be a step forward in changing others view of these symptoms. To suggest that they are meant to be enhance to our advantage, not abolished; this is the stuff of change at an evolutionary level because as I said earlier it does involve everybody and anybody. The Chemically Endowed / THE HEALTH SYSTEM James McFarlane June 1st, 2016 Mania is the increasing of one’s “reward” chemicals in the brain chronically (a symptom of Bipolar). A fact about mania is that it is not so often as out of control as we are tempted to assume. We don’t know the limits it can push positive wise. A negative aspect is surely something that we have seen occasionally. An example could be a world leader like Alexander the great. On the positive side of it are people like Van Gough and many other artists, teachers and authors. Making tireless efforts at just causes inspired by epiphany is just one of the activities a bipolar individual has the option of pursuing. (Sometimes with phenomenal results) This can be a positive activity of the broad ranged individual. Mania is an abundant source of potential positive energy. The mythical Greek god Dionysus has been called the god of mania. He partied allot and was the estranged son of Zeus. There were cults formed in his honor and the remanence of them still exist today as a common and highly manipulated, manipulative tradition known as the entertainment industry. Antianxietys, antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers; drugs that (have attributes that researchers have neglected to even identify) help and plague the bipolar individual as the most commonly used tool to ward off symptoms. In some cases, recreational drugs like amphetamine ((that seem to force up the mood of an individual) among drugs that are normally oriented with unwellness)) I suggest, could be a surprising aid in speeding up the recovery process of depression (the opposing symptom in bipolar to mania which have psychosis as a common theme at the peripheries of both poles of experience) through cognitive stimulation. This is important because antidepressants take several weeks to take effect and suicide could be prevented by the induction of a more open approach to medical uses of recreational drugs. This activity should be combined with social interaction in the case of recovery because it surrounds the recovery of the social aspects of the self (I do not recommend this as the first option for a recovery process). Like most drugs this behavior may take years off the recovery process but could wind up taking years off your life. If closely watched and tested the medicinal benefits of illegal or unreaserched drugs as well as further data released on drugs in general and their common circumstances may be a great stride in the remedy of mental, psychological conditions and social misconceptions which solutions are still being put off by ignorance of the populous and adverse political agendas. Other treatment options not listed above include electroshock therapy and psychical exercises like cognitive behavioural therapy. These alternatives are used less most likely because pharmaceuticals are a huge part of controlling the populous and funding corporations and government. However, a regimented combination of any of these factors could be a breakthrough for some. Called “consumers” by people that work in the pharmaceutical industry, these human beings endowed with seemingly new chemicular behaviors have a heavy cross to bear. I believe that it is obviously possible that over half the population (just to be fair) are born chemically inclined, but forced under the heel of the majority of the others who are from my perspective, psychologically twisted by ignorance, power over the sick, and unjustified behaviour based (((most likely (just to be fair) for some, subconsciously))) on either inherent or just blatant jealousy. I say this because the majority of people in a position of dominance in our society, (security guards, nurses, the police, doctors what have you) are brutally unfair, unprofessional, and ignorant in most cases. This attitude fuels the biggest and oldest and crudest intolerance ever committed by one group against its own people. The mentally endowed verses the psychologically twisted and everyone in between or strung along is the latest and oldest injustice I can see other than the genocide of the shamanistic cultures of north and south America. The most obviously funded sick lack of justice and care for their own counterpart (ever challenged till present day) by a government is currently at hand. It’s a matter of time and interest among corporations. Their need for money will guarantee that the proper drugs will be the end of this problem. Their survival as a business is the only co-dependent factor for the cause. Once the sick become well, ((the inevitable outcome (already achieved)) the drugs will be reinvented a few times ultimately plateauing as a renewable idea by these scientific salesman and their evil subordinates running the place like some kind of sick joke to themselves. Those who wield tools and permission to inflict pain, bondage and any form of abuse they find delectable simply to put off paperwork (and sooth their own often nocturnal boredom) only assigned to be used in the inevitable malpractice suits soon to be ensued by the just with the just against the corrupt. With blunt force and jealousy against their only threat and reliable witness to the sick twisted 24 hour a day fetish of legally and illegally taking the rights and freedoms and everything that makes life desirable from the ill to make way for a prolonged treatment of abuse and betrayal from the psychologically bent nurses and security guards, doctors, police not to forget your everyday sociopath / psychopath walking the streets and perverting the direction and attention of the staff and patients of mental health wings across the country (Canada). Folks like these who lack the basic right and wrong skills, used obviously and openly by the sick and the meek to inevitably over throw the ranks of sociopaths and psychopaths governing, misusing and perverting the writing of history. All of their efforts put into this “note taking” endeavour to be rewarded with indulgence into the sick pleasures of a dysfunctional beauracracy and political disgrace to be. As for the sick, (and well) the neglect of one’s health and deterioration of relationships is often inevitable during episodes and when being forced against such characters mentioned above. These new victims often leaving the institution with their own newly afflicted psychological scars. This is understandable considering how different and under informed the external world and the unbalanced individual usually are. The unwell individual tends to get overwhelmed with heightened and distorted perception, and the outside worlds clashes with their reality. Inevitably against their will, (usually after lots of experience) and sadly, many forms of legalized abuse from the system that seems to be above all law, they become accustomed to the system and more knowledgeable about medication. This is the only way I’ve seen someone become well, for longer. It’s important to channel the knowledge from their experience into productive endeavours. This is the exceptional goal. Chemicals are a big part of the inclined individual’s life (Pharmaceutical, natural and usually recreational). Often enough a well-balanced person emerges but the fight against unwellness and addiction is ongoing for many. Even once well, the psychological challenges of adjusting to life can set in. Thankfully this is also treatable either with anxiety medicine or therapy (or in the case of the Canadian health system, prolonged and tormenting hospital stays crudely striped with prolonged bondage and isolation chambers. Psychology being the completely unfunded and rightful alternative. Wellness comes with time and knowledge as well as trial and error. The potential experience for these individuals is more than the average prescription. Logically and philosophically looking at these problems is key to understanding them. Stigma; it’s a thing like racism that is rampant in every culture today but especially in western culture apparently. A mild example of stigma is using a negative label or misconception such as “split personality” or “psycho”. These are words attached to now folklore, lies and misunderstanding so this ignorance is apparently the first thing to go. In the case of bipolars, it is often amplified social ability versus depression or other emotional states that is confused with complete loss of judgement. Schizophrenics seem to have an even keel in terms of personality in most cases. I know there is no mood disorder but full on hallucinations. This could be due to an unexplained increased constant source of dopamine in their system I suggest gets used to produce complex distractions that could be used to their own advantage, like poetry etc.. (Unproven connection) The biggest problem is the assumption our government and citizens have; that the mentally ill are violent. This ultimately subjects us to being treated like escaped zoo animals by every authority figure you can think of. This is how they legally get us into straps; the word violent. This word can be used in ways it shouldn’t which is often the case. Once declared violent and mentally ill you’re bound for a living hell most likely for quite some time. All the ugly side effects of the system itself leave you psychologically damaged. You get a fate worse than prison by far, especially if you’re rebellious. I have rarely if ever have seen an act of violence towards another from a person that lives in a society that has them already sedated, and threatened by fearful ignorant authority figures with shackles, tasers, injections and cruelty in general at the ready. I’ve mostly seen vigilance or peaceful protest in those in an unwell state, simply because they have the logic to see what they’re up against. We’ve seen this all our lives. Even those who fight back really never had a chance to show that they meant no harm. I say this because our common goal as this type of person is to be understood. While up against a mass of smug sociopath liars who are constantly projecting joyously in groups that we’re mentally incompetent and incapable. This whole thing makes me want to kick an isolation room wall in and pull out the insulation over and over again. That type of treatment on that scale and for that length of time inspires anger in the most emotionally controlled of individuals. This type of passive brutality cannot be easily understood by people who are on a regular level of unchanging dopamine and serotonin. Basically, it is those who are in control and uninformed that are inevitably inflicted with the stigma for mental illness otherwise these are used as tools by the PhDs that as of late have the audacity to wield side effects deceptively like better acting medication (as well as transference upon their staff). Mania is a powerful source of energy. Success of any kind is a possibility with people that have the genetic makeup of the bipolar individual and quite possibly the schizophrenic and schizoaffective system casualties. Most who blindly submit are in a sedated or in a financially constricted reality for most of their lives. However massive bodies of work that gain quality over time with practice are usually seen with all types of mentally ill individuals. Productivity is a given with excess energy and hopefully with excess dopamine. This is something the bipolar individual has at their disposal. (The excess dopamine, like I stated earlier, being the undiscovered advantage for schizophrenic and hybrid diagnosis individuals). If psychological ailment is part of ones developmental makeup, seek help through private practices in your nearest large city center, like psychologist offices, astrological predictions or the cheaper alternative; fortune cookies. ((all systems more trustable than the political money grab being masqueraded by the Canadian government and god knows where)). Hobbies will get lots of attention and skills like writing will be improved for most. Phenomenal ideas and activities must be given attention. It must come from a desire to be appreciated in a world that sees them as useless and treated as such as well as resentment for the genetic advantage and the mitochondrial patterns I will stipulate below. First off I am compelled to write; things like physical agility are improved as well when new energy comes along. Now, the organelle mitochondria in animal cells produces energy for the cell. Like the patterns of the near solar system and probably menstrual cycles and similar monthly patterns recorded to date, all of these cells (differing by their design) work as groups. Most likely shifting by the behavior and the pressures of the environment and or the environments one is involved with as well as (chiefly) the positive verses negative intentions or energy put forth. The positive being more strong and more apt to gaining velocity compared to negative endeavours while the ignorant become subjected to rapid, (fuelled by culture and social upheaval) evolutionary de-emphasis. Tradition will save many who are open minded. It has been theorized that a person who inherits the bipolar gene may have abnormal mitochondrial activity. I reiterate that this would cause fluctuating energy production for the whole body and possibly more so for the brain, ultimately spiking or dropping essential consciousness related chemicals like serotonin and dopamine. Mainly above the baseline of level as far as positive living goes indicating that it’s an innovative evolutionary trait. (These chemicals and the proper medicine are prime factors for the bipolars however independent) the natural chemicals)) These are known simply as chemicals that affect our mood. Or sometimes referred to as (and in everyone’s experience) reward chemicals (endorphins) and oxytocin (the love chemical). The mitochondrial theories as well as more psychological rather than biological theories (i.e. “mono-ideo dynamics”) are unproven. (most called into question more than 100 years ago left unelaborated but proposing a hypothesis unfinished on purpose, ie. Mono-ideo dynamics meaning that an idea can make the body do anything the body is capable of to the peripheries, any part of the body. The “any” part of course cautiously suggesting the brain) The future of mental health I would say is the extensive categorizing of the dosage and drug or treatment in relation to different types of people or circumstances. (i.e. more than 10 conditions, more like a dictionary of conditions to be) Also, once the medical scam plateaus (due to actual research and political attention) psychology as a treatment method will be implemented beyond nurses attempting some form of cognitive behavioral therapy. It is those employed to work with the mentally ill and the graduates of psychology or related studies who must insist on more data collection and way more research into the possibilities the mind itself can offer in medical treatment of all illness. It occurs to me now obviously that psych has been previously placed on the priority list as secondary to the drug trade and religion so to gain funding for an renewable priceless trade like deduction of illogical pursuits and outcomes. (A basic form of psychology that should aid dangerous things like delusion and the laws of attraction). Psychology research mut be put on the forefront so we can get meds chosen, dosages corrected and diagnoses discovered and made faster and more accurately. (And produce more jobs in all levels of the field of medicine) It’s a century old marriage and divorce between medicine, and free will. Psychology should be treated as equally as important as medicine as it is half the battle against corruption of our society, ecosystem and those who inhabit it. Back to the original induction and pragmatic endeavour of self controlling mental chemicals that have their own agenda, or the agenda of the moon and the weather; the social activities of a manic person can be difficult to put up with for others because it’s constant and overbearing at times. This factor most likely is being brought up because of my experience with passive aggressive tendencies. What is interesting is that it can stimulate chemicals in people around the source (more importantly I say between couples). Basic emotional chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin (excitement, survival and `love` related chemicals in any order) can be increased in other people at higher than normal rates and levels (not to mention the freed individual themselves). These chemicals can be a blissful and natural human experience when people are close to one another. This can be achieved through stylized communication between persons. In cases of manic people with other manic people; it’s a vibrant social atmosphere. It’s manifesting the inner emotion or thought into reality or more commonly manifesting it into iteration. In any case one can activate the other pretty easily without consumption of any substance. Any communication and body language is the stimulation factor here when differing types of people get together. This is what psychology is; ‘Behaviour changing chemicals, changing environment’. Boring and seemingly opposing efforts is also a common occurrence because it’s hard to stay positive for most and for those around them because, it’s been a long battle and opposites attract. Phrases like that as well as phrasing like “everybody’s different” is an indication that intellect and work ethic are also independent factors essential to the coexisting of partners in general. The state best to experiment in as far as is hypomania (medium mania) or even just wellness. Ways to activate a slow rise in your serotonin level if you’re not bipolar would be using a mild stimulant like amphetamine (Dexedrine). This is not something to try on your own. I’m suggesting this to be a carefully overseen test involving chemicals that are dangerous to be used in excess and for prolonged periods of time. If you become manic, know that once your manic states have passed and you’re well you still possess the ability to partake in and test different psychological and parapsychological activities (it does stay with you and up to date). One thing to discover while well is that a person can up their brain’s chemicals at will without the use of drugs, rather, behaviour or behavioural exercises. Once you’ve done that and or submitted to the opposing factors of the weaker you are both freed. This has been going on for billions of years in many forms. Dancing, sex, geometry, sensory deprivation (like vision quests or modern culture traditions) gaining knowledge about the earth from the stars, cultural and group oriented endeavours like art or chemical revolution (i.e. drugs rock and roll all stimulate the body chakras as well as the earth’s). Other theories basically thrown around by the wiser of the eastern west in the form of literature or poetry comes to mind, like; “electricity comes from other planets”, in relation to mono-ideo dynamics in relation to bipolars and nature; “The Gift” etc. (The Velvet Underground, 1969). All of these “foggy notions” are there for usually the reason they’re being inspired, meaning put art intentions and science together and you’ve got something good. Unless you succumb to the marketplace. Only drugs inspire chemicals on command without the need for circumstance (this is a modern cultural tradition). The nature of mania is that you become ‘antennae’ of sorts that more easily gathers information. It’s up to you what you do with your energy or your manic that turns the tides in your favour. Your perception may be higher in this state, but there (as always) is; a down side of it as there is duality in all things in nature. Psychosis depression and psychological problems plague the inexperienced young bipolar individual’s lives until an effective treatment plan is accepted or forced on them. Other ways to cushion this (and to avoid too many episodes) is complying with treatment plans to your liking and staying away from recreational drugs for the most part. Or rather, opposing and cheating the laws of the flawed marketplace. The process as a whole is always a learning experience for most. For sure, unbalanced brains are the next step in biological evolution. The union of the mind and body, the relationship between the physical and metaphysical, and how human culture is merged with the ethereal will occur along with the reopening of the practices originating from primitive psychology like the agenda of the heavenly bodies of fire above. Victim Psychology One thing I have realized over the past many years is that there are two kinds of people in the world; the aggressors and the passive. Like the chimps and the bonobos, the psychopaths and the victimized, the sociopath and the weary guardian, the farmer and the farm animal, the nurse and the sickly the dominant prey upon the weak. I have found the sociopath to be friendly and the psychopath to be gentlemanly and wise at times. This does not condone they’re compulsive destructive social and physical abuse that they inflict upon they’re victims. A psychopath is someone who enjoys committing violence upon another. A sociopath is one who has no care for the wellbeing of others. This is rampant in modern Canadian livelihood. One other thing I’ve noticed about aggressors is that they go in and out of remission. (Which is cooperative behavior) A volatile destruction of one’s trust of others and distorting of one’s actions that is prevalent in victims is sexual abuse of the young and old alike. Next to physical assault it’s the most reactive and high profile to this day of violations of another person therefore it falls in the category of psychopathy from what I can see because of its physical and emotional impact. Victims carry on in public, say profoundly erratic and shocking statements, take up malevolence for those who stand by them and seek a vengeance that has no sympathy in any circumstance against theirs and other persons abusers. Their paranoia fuelles the problem of wrongful accusation cases ongoingly across the board. Usually a current abuser is in the background with these cases fuelling the fire while the victim holds out for some kind of mercy or justice. Wife beating and general abuse of children and animals are the most haness and hated by the public and the spectrum of victims in this country. (Canada) Sexual abuse is the most widely discussed and concerning of abusive behaviors towards humanity, (to the point that it’s an ongoing obsession and topic in the daily conversation in a conflictive situation between persons and within groups of all sizes) breeds decay within the psychological health of the groups themselves(like paranoia to a schitsophrenic) and they revel in it, abusers and all. All the power to the victims for their enthusiasm, but to reiterate what I wrote above, these actions are somewhat on occasion either false puppetry put on by the victim’s close and currently occupied as; violator, or by bystanders who just want a show or to gossip. The falsity and sadly sociopathic act of ‘fish netting’ just about every oddball as a possible suspect of these lowly behaviors is very common in today’s society. However, I have realized that their paranoia is justified by the number of women beating and sexual abuse cases showing up as a reality today and that there is a correlation with the amount of homosexuals that are violently “in the closet” who turn up in our courts and also who don’t (mainly due to victims trying to hold their lives together). Can this be explained by ethnicity clashes? Gangs?Terrorism?Languages? Why this correlation? Is it obviously connected to what was formerly seen as perversion, homosexuality, as a factor in these broken homes. Just because by my census in northern Ontario found that heterosexuality was a minority here and that the abuse rate changed for the worse shows that it is possibly a correlation. How long has this been going on? I find that these men need to use women as a shield, a sexual punching bag that’s worth no more than a cheap roast beef. This is a new social disease. Not homosexuality, but the act of taking a mate of the sex you aren’t interested in for personal gain. The action of these men is typical abuse and the women go on destroying their psychological health through these empty relationships. This one (me) who is looking for a healthy relationship feels ripped off however the sociopathic women choose their life like dolls instead. While the jails hold the psychopaths. The police jail and court workers go on with their corrupt behavior in our region. It’s that that continues to choke our young women into a compromise. They are a social disease, we are under siege from sick nations and countries and our men are allowing our women and children to fall by the wayside to make room for more homosexual dominance. It’s time to liberate the inflicted to avoid more people crossing over to psychological toxicity. As these victims start to depreciate into self destructing and outwardly destructive tendencies. Psychologists must prescribe and teach like never before in this age of lies, abuse and corruption

LO-FI Music Explained JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 LO-FI MUSIC EXPLAINED The additional distorted data collected from the peripheries of our senses deliberately recreated and reproduced by means of adverse, outdated and unintentionally altered technology and style. Recorded or preformed ideally in the form of what we know as music and or film. broken record? More like audible snowflake. The geometry of nature get betrayed and expands when recording art under predetermined and active circumstances at the whim of the conditions of the environment and it’s setbacks. LO-FI Music/Media is the effect that the decay of our technology has on the pristine conditions in which we perform and record our visual and audible experience and the deliberate recreation and reproduction of these anomalies. Atonally thrusting forth with a foggy notion that these new audio and visual recordings of patterns that emerge from the more primitive forms of technology over time vaguely and remarkably respond to and compliment the setting of the reality intentionally being recorded on an almost conscious level. The question of how to activate them and where hey come from arises when artists of our own age with a knowledge of the recent technological and cultural past attempt the avantgard. Using predominantly analogue and traditional technology affected by time itself that we can alter ourselves in combined with natural (random) rate, voltage, velocity selection what have you to reproduce art AND what the ultimate effect of the recording process has on these works of avantgard art is the idea behind and the method LO-FI Music/Media. -James McFarlane (Seamus) I blew up Einsteins theory on insanity — James McFarlane (Seumas) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016 Einstein said that the definition of insanity was repeating ones actions over and over again, expecting different results. I say that this behavior is far from insane. It is the fundamental law of how our development, bodies, daily lives, cultural traditions, reproduction, evolution and solar systems function. When looked at closely we see that even the most repetitious behavior is constantly changing at various rates. This is a law in all things in our universe therefore nothing ever really repeats itself. Rotations beautifully exist in nature and follow an imperfect geometry that we mimic in our cultures according the the schedules of the massive bodies above. Rock and roll, like opium or the moon have differing effects on the geometric patterns of our lives and evolution. Some rock an roll music by use of musical instruments (science) has combined the harmony of natures repetitious behavior (the drone) with the ever changing distortion factors like; time, mass, pitch and amplitude that are essential and fundamental to the evolutionary principle of repetitious behavior. Its the repetition that is the foundation we stand on, as long as your standing on it, expect something new to come about. Simply our presence in a scenario changes the physical and metaphysical environment at some rate, its our behavior and descisions that change that rate what manifests as the artwork or reality. — James McFarlane (Seumas) lyrics — James McFarlane (Seamus(Substreet Drones)) JAMES MCFARLANE·SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2016

NEW — weird song (2016) the reaper, put the beat on hold, bones dug up just like the sunflowers in the snow, now deeper into the river of sight, if you go in that cave dont turn out the light, white light shines bright, no stars tonight, behind the vox stack, their singin heart is black, subwayswhislting over my head, thank god i climbed aboard instead, reap what you sew 4x (coda) Heart is black ive been had (ive been had) ive gone mad (ive gone mad) ths is war, (this is war) i told you all this before i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, heart is black face the facts, art is black, oohicant stay, (ooh icant stay) cant go your way, (cant go your way) i felt you sweet smack, Your smoke is black (smoke is black) i beg you, i want you too, write me back heart is black face the facts, art is black, Beautiful face she thinks shes alright, butshes out of sight, swim in for a bite, underneath the white light, thining of fashons, and still looking smashing appealing to fools, out of all kinds of schools, lo frequency base, mixed with the acid taste, no it couldnt compare, to your beautiful face. you left a hole in my chest, a better shot than the rest, do you have five minutes, for a warhol screen test, at dawn i see a star burning not lie the rest, cant help but sit and wonder where its going next 4x cant help but sit and wonder where shes going next 4x Blue Haired BelleBlue Haired Belle, hangs around the gates of hellMorning stars get lost, in the flow of your blue sky locksDon’t despair, you’ve been on a track please take care, Come fly with me, its your blue sky that’s pure dont you see. Its alright You, me , everybody,we, see, only moonbeams,comets not so high,eathquakes in the sky,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright,lalalight n short in hight and , nananight and it’s alright, You light the way, through tunnels, try not the scrape, the gunnels,on the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timeon the right a cave in sight, it’s alright not this timelalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalaooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaooooooooooaaaaooooaaaaaoooooo Main Street When you called me up hereIdidnt feel like walkin, Now your sayin to me,youdidnt feel like talkinwhy are we so clumsy,so clumsy with our breadnow you tell me honey, how you keep your stomach fed, always lending yourself out, to the freaks that dot our lives,honey when you gunna shout, at those drones in out beehive,take a walk uptown, to the bucket where they drown,gunna tell them when they get out,to get theiur handouts downtown MorningAt the dawn of a new age,Sun comes up, smell the burning sage,take a step foreward, turn the pagesay goodbye to all those dark dark days, MAking a brew I stare a the fire,stir the pot, and then connect the wires,turn on the amp, the music inspires,got to free my mind from all the cheats and all the liars. Morningdrone You, you know what I mean, when isay,that nothings gunna happen today,and you, you know what imean,wheni tell you it’s just not my scene, you, yeees you, what the hell are we gunnado?and you, the only one you listen to, is a man, by the name of, Lou. We, yeees us three, could make it at a defferentpace,I, know that, it’s a discrace, Lord, take us to another place, So grab your stuff, your record albums,you take the wine, and ill take the guns, and into the ocean, we will go, cause you know, were headed, for the coast,so raise up your glasses, for a toast,ha, which one of us can drink the most,the father, theson, or the holy ghost,and you say that this car can race,but can it take us to that other place, a different side of mother natures face. take me to another place. Nothing drones honey comes from lots of work, sticky feet moving berserkpatterns form in crude beauty, drones fulfill a pointless duty, honey drips, from the hive, golden jkelly feeds their wife, pretty flowers messy home, nothing drones on like the cone, back and forth, in and out, dancing like we use our mouths,the pay is small and so are you, results of that sweetens my tooth, the task is never ending, constantly descending, dripping in the mouths of those not worth defending. Oppenheimer park Rolling down the open road, to the end of the line,end of the world, end of the illusion of time,I go down to the water, and feel the cool surf,hear music in the air and take it for what it’s worth, cant understand why people, could live on so little,when so much goes through them, and through the needle, so hasty, with the selling of their saved souls,the western downtown is bright, blunt, and bold. Walk up and down throughout the day, out of your mind,think of your home nevermore, till the end of timethe loop drones on and on like a broken clock,don’t need to climb the montain, cause your at the top Hastngs is not coming for you, your coming for it,like hell it bewccons like the incline of a pit,the east side, sits a nd people come from near and far,to sit, and sink, into the grass, in oppenheimer park oracle so your torched,your hanging by a thread,don’t scorch, your pretty little head,wishing through your lips that it worntpass,feels like your turning from a liquid to a gas, take a trip right to the edge of your mind, consciousness poured out and left behind,take a break from all the flats and all the sharpd,ride a cloud of nothing, and numb your broken heart To thew edge of your mind, distortion blurrs the line bettweenwhats out there and whats inside, deep in the cave, breath in the cold air,see shadows on the wall,… stare bring news just like homing pigeon,come down, and start a new religion, leave now, and speak out, littereally or metephorical,the knowledge you posess will make you the oracle. Pipe Dream A science experiment gone totally wronga weather balloon with some kind of evil about it,all the kids at school could see it above the horizon,my friends and i knew we’d be better off without it, king kong, walked along high street, where the freaks and thugs call home,if he could reach this floating disaster on time,he knew he would never have to die alone,hethough about it and realised the people wouldntunderstandhe knew their alien nation would turn this ape into a man, darkened minds turn on a dime, revolve in time along thin white linesyin and yang drip from a wolfs fang, one pulls the trigger the other goes band why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Darkened fool has lots of toolsd, dead at the deep end of the pool, boring times and pouring rhyme, the question, is this really mine? why can we get to the meaningof this philosophy of feeling, how do we break the silence of the checkerboard of violence. Psych em out Psychem out like rabid vermin, make em shout a phony sermon,see right through their simple game,right to their core their thoughts of shame, watchem blow upon the fire, rocks explode right on the liar, social change brings end to war, housewife trembles on the floor,backwardsforewards, up and downvoisc encircle all aorund, observeprecieve hear see know learn mirror be, identify possible flaws, of the menace with no causethe time is now, so try to learn how to bend the rules they use to keep you down. Rabbit hole Salvage you mind while it is illuminated, a fire out of control,a cabbage in ttime, right now it is fumigated, wired and housing a soul,badhabbits in line, schedualed to be terminated, inspire you out of your hole, A rabbit , redefined and underrated but higher than ever before, drink up while the tea is hot and bright blue, the flesh of the gods makes it so,3 caps and some stems is all i can do, to see shooting stars upon the snow, think sweetly of me, with emotions so true as yu stand and look through the window,think of thinkgs to do when im gone for good now, waving at the bus watching it go, Im down in the southland, with deep curving valleys and bridges all rusty and crumbling, with grasses all dying and rivers of green and subways whistling under me. a spot on the corner , a 30 dollar gutar, a case and a cigarette too, is all that i need to get usedd to my home and bring my mind closer to you. The last of this song, is all out of place, but the pace rings true to the rule, of the verses before i shut tight the door on the patterns lost and misconstrewen,becauseits all backwards and forewards like this, its in shambles but its not a ruin,the end of this 4 verse song has arrived, to the point you might not clue in. Sea of lights Rockj and rave, through the night,on speed in a sea of lights,jump spin contort thrust,black white pain lust,spent a week there last might, maybe more,steal yourself a holy death crouching by the door cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Standing there all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the whilestanding all in black behind the vox stack, from behind sunglasses, we inspire the masses, cause we all live in sin but it makes music sound new, go out on a limb, and let the world surround you, we rave through the atonal thrusts and the booms,tonight the flowers of evil are in full bloom, Walk and talk it through the park,whiplashgirlchild in the darkrun run run, take a drag shoot your speed while you brag i’ve been orchestrating behind sunglasses,immitatingprodogy, and writer, man, tomboy and a throusand fans zeppelin spotlights on my brain exploding plastic in my veinhypnotyic tones as the propellers drone,mind bending sounds, resonate undreground, dak circles never weed, new york 1963, Chcmysic, velvet freak desensitize alter tweak, no money car moon or sun, sell your blood for heroin,if she ever comes now now, moe beat on that drum now now,pink perfume, mantra neumes silk screen factory tunes superstar test only the best wine coffee speed heroin rest,darkcircl;es never weep, new yourk 1963,theyve been up for weeks, in the white light the tweak, in 63 Skeleton Here we are again, moneys all been spent, you don’t know where hesbeen,hes trying to fend off things that dwell within, hes a skeleton. at the end of days hes been here before he says, narrow in mannyways,hes a skeleton,andidont know where hesgoin, or why he thinks itssnowin, he can see the wind thatsblowin, hes a skeleton, Spotlight Reap what you sew,snakes and poppys in her hair,sun flowers in the snow,make you look like your not so old,it had been so long i could not recall her face,she came outside to meet me though iwas’t her case,nowi sit and wonder if I’m out of place,the memories i had of her, are in outer space Standing all in white, she sings in the spotlight, in darkness and style, we strum all the while,on the odd days I could talk to her,harmony and dissonence, a modern venus in furs,up and down that hallway, rotating the earth,waiting there for hours and hours, for her the quench my thirst. Sweet grass summertime,see the star shine, and i don’t mind revisiting those times,although my mind is blown, i play the drone,saying goodbye while you’re getting stoned. Vicious lips oooooo what to do,iwanna see you too,i think imgoin mad, ooooim not that sad noooi wonder sometimes where you are,what moon what planet under what star,id like to think your not that far, but we both know that trip was hard your vicious lips, eard on the airwaves, waking the dead, from their graves,your sweet, but your toxic, been three weeks since you dropped itI found it in my pocket, your trains comin I cant stop it You Made Me the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me,the reaper, put the beat on hold, turns to dust when they turn to dope,promises, he couldntkeep,to save a life, only three feet deep,you’re my catalyst, myonliness, decemberbaby,im the creep you made me, Come Back Around JAMES MCFARLANE·FRIDAY, MAY 13, 201610 Reads The process as a whole is always a learning experience like no other. Ultimately, like the brain has a recognition and physical atribute that corresponds with most chemicals in nature (possibly even synthetic chemicals) the psychological functions that a person can aquire are almostordaned and recieved in a timely fashion by the organ and im assuming the subconscious effortlessly and for evolutionary purpose. So I will assume everyones own, (however existential), growth experience is interesting. Having the atribute of spiking and deminishing of at least two of the brains most important chemicals related to experience, and behavior… and the awareness of the (most obvious to you) potential for not only chemical related occurances and their ripple effect, but the behavioral methods that the acute brain, manic brain, almost has a natural function to excercise and use usually either for a better survival or further expansion into astonishing existential and soon to be investigated parapsychological, social behaviors that tend to stick as long as they serve in a new type evolutionary (ie “Counter intuative”, productive and humanistic beavior that the mind eagerly draws in like an antennae recieving and storing up valueable energy. Setting this agenda and also surviving the early episodes, of bipolar, (which are usually the most drastic) are two hurdles to get over, let alone the crude, almost sickening archetectural features in our community hospitals, thats purpose cannot be desguised as heathcare to the human eye. A grossly overused assortment of bondage equipment and isolation chambers (not to mention your absence of any dignifying articles of clothing( also to be moved and set in place on occasion) nowadays plate glass walls, a whole dungeon setup designed by those people involved no less, who really probably care wheather the colour they chose or how their design would function better than the decaying sweat soaked ultimately in our home towns case, my favorite case, dried blood stained, apparenty approved for use by some dr, a single hallway, to alk up and down seemingly endlessly, untill not suprisedby the inevitable dread code white, that is the delight for the predominantly, …listen t me… dominated, by your average practicing as ferociously as they can with as little effort as possible, sociopath and more importantly to re ognise, violent violators psychopaths, who pretymch have the real pl working there stressin over what could possibly be these ppls capabilities, and are alienated inside by this evil thay cannot risk their ,,, virtully anything valuable, like a job or who knows, omg… thats why she left,,,,, so, yaa, these ppl rise like cream, annnnnd they have a really good time eeeehm, .. now nurse practitioners or legends, thir former dominator look like theyve aged, well lets say i was convinced they had beeen using prolongued use on heavy stimulents, like crack. iloldrewaout a blueprint with symboldsfr the patient advocate, neaysi mostly wantd to write and its alot of shit thats gone no doubt as home with ,,,lets say u know like fat cat. what, i was 15, and he was fat then, now hes the last one standing up there that i know of. oh yea… so i would say if u want out, and as of late i thing the design is perfect for the right ppl, socios included, fuckers, but, the dr, they are jst as careless as the security guards who cant hide haw stupid the really are and the odd couple who are revealing that their ok, still, idicovered, ,, maybe not in north bay, but in a proper community, like the city, ………..lost my train,,,, i think that i was getting at how just to be fair and …eyea 50 percent of the staff endowd with the ability to weildstrapps, and are encouraged by their no doubt under educated superiors, to always have the wrist ready to be broken if, now this brings me back,,,, they chokeyou, than comes the bondage that betty page would think is very unatractive, idk,,, the thing is,,, ya the drs, oh waut,, ok…. 1/3 of all of them are,,,, exculding the drs, and the janitors, who if ihaventdiscosedya are always there to pile up on a code white, and i know,, listen to me, no janitor ive met would grab my ass so hard on such a numerous a pile up, i have eyes in theback f my head,,,,,,, italalot,,,,,,, ppl that work so hard tp climb so not that far up the ladder in society, yes, sum of them are costume rocking witchcrftprodiges, who, will, 1 take the whole bunch of guys .. it may have been the forensic unit,,, this little thing is known by ,ppl, ive talked to about the psych who are inderectyl told by their others who work it, and ave stories about the oddity of us. iduno,, alot went down, but,, boring s yea she walks me throught e bysantine conduit iup to the floor, and the police have to walk somewhere behind to uncuff me and ta da, , y o iwanna bring up corporeal action when the best times,,, due to the conditios of bondage uuuuuuuuuuh were strictly through plate glass,,,,, ie. rare appearenced that are pretty much the only way. i really was bloody fucking thirsty 8percent and i mea ya,, when i was younngti chewed up braaaaan and drank my watttaaeer, and drew peace sighnsandd 7 days laterrrrr, after she sumhow managed to get an earbud into my head screaming for any colour you like by pink floyd, and playd the fungsonhggg, badassss. straight jacket. prolly day 4,,,,, i still think cough syrop is good for teenagerswhatver,,m took me to the top. ok… to get offf, the ward do as such; by Ultimately drawin on to no apparent end in crayons complete with nicotine gum (smokes,, the only freedom, not yet a right, that is so hard to get,,,,, and i learned to smoke in side the scarborough general hospitol,,, that room soon became the chamber, i would be locked in, for manny weeks, at different times,, thats where alot also hapened, is where the nude bondage asianfemaldr, ..whati mean i s theatwwhatwuldlou reed say… they never forgave us for nagasaki.,,, newaysive never spent more time in a i also a what appears to be and have bben told by assdocter of the north bay pstychwhi took to court at the hospitol and he got yelled at by a panel while my dad defended him and i ate cookies cus ii was really manic,,,, i also was 15 1/2… he later let me try and commit suicide,, thats a story of a different colour,, sounds like sprockets, idk,, idontwafe war with very real religiossympomatic shat, iuuuuuhm , so,,,, hereswahat krb8tujvcklwelbutrin.,,, ya, it istaken orally it shoul get right to work in three ad a half weeks, if suicidal,,,,, pray, oooir if u cant get dxedrine,, or sum speed beane drink a bottle of childrensgeapecoughsyrup once a day,,,, this acts as a seritonin reuptake inhibitor of a differrentcolour. 2 to 4 hours,,,iu get the mental stimulation,, it reall is a mellow buzz butttttyupppidecare fuck cough syrop…… dexedrineisnt out there and i know it couould really bbe used and they aslso do,, ie. jfk, addisons disease, dexedrine/anphetamine. so,, it will make y0ur 90 year old great aunt we all frogot about over in blind river get up from the abyss of alzheimers and dementia and sing thins is the day that the lord hath made,, ,but with real and concious interaction,,, without memory of course. however,,, she does that,,, did that anyway , but,,, im sure every month not every day,, at least one trial of … iuffingadhd adults can take it,,, why cant she. smeared into the grate of every window and the classy bubble rooom which actually was made with enough pride according to the regionnsid say, to have an even more, almost funny, and certainly battered scratched and spat on bubble for the head psychiatrist t poke his head into every few days. Lets not froget how that scene ended. like my father and grandfather before me who conditioned and alterred the correctiona institutions for fifty fife years now a conmfortablevacatin for psychopaths and whoever, not even the hole could stand up to point blank restraints naked, with your flimsy gown around your chest. at least in the bubble room there was lots of privacy, u know, to each institution their own, glass , bubble blood stained, probably 60 years of ppl that somehow said something that attracted the attention of their nurse, who no doubt vollynteered after printing your file which is most likely epic thick, there is no room for any of their creative stylings in that no, i did just smash the wall into pieces and ya all the insulatin is everywhere, high five and respect from my cute transference mistress, (and a couple others.)

Perverts Dictionary (O_o))))))))))))) Trilateral — jinx No doubt — yes, super Doble- adorable, dobles, adobles Straight up — forthrightly, correct, right, or goof Throwing babies makes them gay Avant garde — protect the old (art) stay the same Downtown, — quiet not ratting Technology — rewind/splice mp3 interchangable Right up — shooting up Not up — free (not in trouble) Word — “my promise” new word, yes Naw — ya goof / no Buzz out — use vibrator / get high Drone- parapsychological anomalie Phe — speed (methanphetamenes) Stellar — awsum / the sun / single thing Figure — shape (claivoiance) One — god / goof Out-gay or leaving No doubt — ur gay / im gay. (For sure (im a whore)) straight up In — a goof out “my thing ‘ — claivoiant animation (repeated) Pentagon/circuit — terrific Duality — love or contrast in nature Straight — not gay or no drugs Up-in torouble/retarded/fucked Goof — crazy p/pedophile / molester/rapist/asshole Pervert-whore/hooker Asshole-incessant talker(mean) Solid-honest reliable Ethereal — heavely, sticky, Bird- girl pervert , moron Badass-pervert/violent, missile Idiot –saying nething Toad- smaker (heavy) old vagina A hard — a stiffy Eh eh- turning vol down and then up to trick parents in the 70s in quebec Bonhome — dildo, goof, good man Ein — get in /out (here) goof (French) ass hole/vagina Institution/church shouting= good Tabernacle-chest Coalis-chalise Zeut-fuck Fuck- rape/damnet or sex Stomping — raping Bang out- beat on Beat up — gay kids trying to get their frieing off violently Rank out — make someone stink by working them or hurting them / cast someone out canadian military style (gay) , gang up on someone till they freak out (psychopaths do it all over Canada)’ Trast- drunk /party/water Dai-morning, cool, fun, ausum, hello! Good-goof Story along-paranormal happening involving ancestral memory Psychic-all in one, prophet telepath Telepathic — mind to mind talker, thinker Telekinetic- moving things/ ppl Claivoiance- seeing colour from other ppls minds Rod-skyfish/fast moving anomaly animal Vaj-old or young vagina Oss — dog or baby vagina Grandma- bag in tree Candy — transsexual My honey — sexy (on the wind(throwing laughter(female))) Beating off — complex Wacking off-pervert Jerking off — solid (female) Move-walk / go Mullet-militia Freak –goof (black word) Ca — crap — crow call Germ freak-someone who forces germs on ppl Quay-(beautiful woman (cunt) — woman) latin Mead-morphene Rin — heroin (dust / cookie crumble) Beans — speed pills Rids — Ritalin No shit- of course Jib-meth Hellfire — run off meth (bad) Food — crack Molly-mdma /e Bombs — ecstacy cid — Acid (lsd) shrooms-magic mushrooms sterl — brother (little) afgan weed — brown pot kife — bad weed (shake) leaves) shibby — cool/goof cool-gay/awsum fade white — see white on od (heroin/mescelin(go to heaven/hell)) road — freedom — out of institution the suck — mescalin myth ast — perversion telekinetic- asty sortof meta/physical movement from the brain outwardly god — goof — one or christ lady stink — female deodorant leave it — shirt on chest (gay /bi) stop it hiboit gland — make you fat cured with amricain medicine merican — goof citizen of America Canadian- a sovereign citizen of Canada (incestewous clown) Were done — end releationship British — gay mongerers Nono –nig mistake Famished — thirsty / starved Sent — innocent Pervert — to change something and make it last nothing — absence, bipolar universai — multiple universes psykinetics — telepathy / telekinetics/claivoiance geniupsy — psykinetic offspring genius — generating new thought (brilliant) bipolar- up and down serotonin and dopamine, psychopath — violent person sociopath — not caring about neone oppositional defiant — opposing help borderline personality — victim misbehaving schitzophrenic — high fixed dopamine, fixed seretonin (normal)\ drone — unpiloted airplane, good worker, artist , schitzophrenic dick — enlarged clitoris get out of here — come here little child aced — gay men trying to get pregnant, daughter , sqaired away k — ketamine ass — dad/grandfather hun — little stut( skank) brecky — greek (breakfast) supper — jewish (Dinner) brecko — Italian (breakfast) avatar — ethereal image of oneself asshole — girl or boy or rapist (north bay / Chicago)\ goof — sad or sexy ethereal image from shame can be cured with desensitization (knumbaning) (telepathic) ya — pedophile dude — black pedophile Italian cowboy, fake doctor (candadian) huffin — pretending to be someone else while using telekinteicks in a sexual fashion. sadomasochist — paingiver/enjoyer earphoning — hearing ppl in ypur speaker — hold speaker up to ear and hand over other ear, psychopaths recommendation pur — rapist/pervert uggz — ug;y phile — pedophile ace — gays — rape — sister — grandma-brother path — telepath or a psychopath/sociopath, can — male whore cop- fake police (pedophile) musac — music laid — losing virginity glowie — acid victims (creep) ente old stupid goof dex — cough syrup bed down — tie to bed (north bay) fuck right off — screw my girlfriend\ fuck off — go cop the u- universe no shit — definitely mangina — friend spect-respect right up — repect straight up — disguise Italian — scot Adisguzi — disgusting excuse me No shit- really? Love — goodbye

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[beyondforks]

Book Reviews! Plus One & Noma Girl by Elizabeth Fama

Plus One (Plus One #1) by Elizabeth Fama 

Genre: Young Adult (Dystopian Romance) Date Published: April 8, 2014 Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

A dying wish. A family divided. A love that defies the law.

Sol Le Coeur is a Smudge--a night dweller in an America rigidly divided between people who wake, live, and work during the hours of darkness and those known as Rays, who live and work during daylight. Impulsive, passionate, and brave, Sol concocts a plan to kidnap her newborn niece--a Ray--in order to bring the baby to visit her dying grandfather. Sol's violation of the day/night curfew is already a serious crime, but when her kidnap attempt goes awry, she stumbles on a government conspiracy to manipulate the Smudge population. Sol escapes the authorities with an unexpected ally: a Ray who gets in her way, a boy she might have hated if fate hadn't forced them on the run together--a boy the world now tells her she can't love.

Set in a vivid alternate reality and peopled with complex, deeply human characters on both sides of the day/night divide, Elizabeth Fama's Plus One is a brilliantly imagined drama of individual liberty and civil rights, and a fast-paced romantic adventure story. 

Plus One is the first book in the Plus One series by Elizabeth Fama. This is an alternate reality that goes in a very different direction from ours after the Flu Pandemic of 1918. The population is divided by those who are only allowed out during the day and those who are only allowed out at night, and of course they have prejudices against each other because people have to hate even when they don't know why they hate or who or what they are hating. So, you can really relate this world to our own history. There was action, romance, humor, and even a little suspense at times. I thought the characters and the world around them were well built and well thought out. The characters felt real. You got to know them as they got to know each other. They had strengths and weaknesses. They definitely weren't perfect. I enjoyed them quite a bit, and I loved watching what was a strong dislike between D'arcy and Sol grow into friendship and strengthen to more. They are characters worth rooting for. 

Note: I know I already used that quote in my Teaser Tuesday post, but I can't help it. It makes my belly flip.

Wednesday 4:30 a.m. It takes guts to deliberately mutilate your hand while operating a blister-pack sealing machine, but all I had going for me was guts. It seemed like a fair trade: lose maybe a week’s wages and possibly the tip of my right middle finger, and in exchange Poppu would get to hold his great-granddaughter before he died. I wasn’t into babies, but Poppu’s unseeing eyes filled to spilling when he spoke of Ciel’s daughter, and that was more than I could bear. It was absurd to me that the dying should grieve the living when the living in this case was only ten kilometers away. Poppu needed to hold that baby, and I was going to bring her to him, even if Ciel wouldn’t. The machine was programmed to drop daily doses of CircaDiem and vitamin D into the thirty slots of a blister tray. My job was mind-numbingly boring, and I’d done it maybe a hundred thousand times before without messing up: align a perforated prescription card on the conveyor, slip the PVC blister tray into the card, slide the conveyor to the right under the pill dispenser, inspect the pills after the tray has been filled, fold the foil half of the card over, and slide the conveyor to the left under the heat-sealing plate. Over and over I’d gone through these motions for hours after school, with the rhythmic swooshing, whirring, and stamping of the factory’s powder compresses, laser inscribers, and motors penetrating my wax earplugs no matter how well I molded them to my ear canal. I should have had a concrete plan for stealing my brother’s baby, with backups and contingencies, but that’s not how my brain works. I only knew for sure how I was going to get into the hospital. There were possible complications that I pushed to the periphery of my mind because they were too overwhelming to think about: I didn’t know how I’d return my niece when I was done with her; I’d be navigating the city during the day with only a Smudge ID; if I was detained by an Hour Guard, there was a chance I’d never see Poppu again. I thought Poppu was asleep as I kissed him goodbye that night. His skin was cool crepe paper draped over sharp cheekbones. I whispered, “Je t’aime,” and he surprised me by croaking, “Je t’adore, Soleil,” as if he sensed the weight of this departure over all the others. I slogged through school; I dragged myself to work. An hour before my shift ended, I allowed a prescription card to go askew in the tray, and I poked my right middle finger in to straighten it before the hot plate lowered to seal the foil backing to the card. I closed my eyes as the press came down. Even though I had only mangled one centimeter of a single finger, my whole body felt like it had been turned inside out and I’d been punched in the heart for good measure. My fingernail had split in two, blood was pooling through the crack, and I smelled burned flesh. It turns out the nerves in your fingertip are ridiculously sensitive, and all at once I realized mine might be screaming for days. Had I thought through this step at all? Would I even be able to hold a baby? I collapsed, and I might have fainted if the new girl at the machine next to mine hadn’t run to the first-aid station for a blanket, a gauze tourniquet strip, and an ice pack. She used the gauze to wrap the bleeding fingertip tightly—I think I may have punched her with my left fist—eased me onto my back, and covered me with a blanket. I stopped hyperventilating. I let tears stream down the sides of my cheeks onto the cement floor. But I did not cry out loud. “I’m not calling an ambulance,” the jerk supervisor said, when my finger was numb from the cold and I was able to sit up again. “That would make it a Code Three on the accident report, and this is a Code One at best. We’re seven and a half blocks from the hospital, and you’ve got an hour before curfew. You could crawl and you’d make it before sunrise.” So I walked to the emergency room. I held my right arm above my head the whole way, to keep the pounding heartbeat in my finger from making my entire hand feel like it would explode. And I thought about how before he turned his back on us, Ciel used to brag that I could think on my feet better than anyone he knew. Screw you, Ciel.

Noma Girl (Plus One #.5) by Elizabeth Fama 

Genre: Young Adult (Dystopian Romance) Date Published: March 25, 2014 Publisher: Tor Because of a quirk of history during the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918, present-day America is rigidly divided between people who live and work during the hours of darkness—Smudges—and those known as Rays, who populate the day. A group of Smudges called the Noma live on the fringes of society in loose tribes, preying on Smudges and Rays alike. Gigi is a ruthless Noma, but in this prequel companion story to Plus One, she is ordered to abduct a cell phone hacker named Ciel Le Coeur and reveals a surprisingly tender heart.

Noma Girl is a prequel to Plus One told from Gigi's perspective. Gigi is probably my favorite character from Plus One. She's got spunk and guts, talks like a sailor, will punch you as easily as look at you, and yet, she's got a little bit of a softy in there too. She's complicated. Getting her story and the whole background between her and Ciel was something we needed to know. This was a very short story, but added a lot more depth to her character. And... now we know. 

Elizabeth Fama is the author of three young-adult novels: Plus One (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014), a RITA Award finalist; Monstrous Beauty (FSG, 2012), included on the 2013 YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults list, and winner of the 2013 Odyssey Honor Award; and Overboard (Cricket Books, 2002), an ALA 2003 Best Book for Young Adults. Elizabeth is vastly overeducated, with a BA in Biology, an MBA, and a PhD in Economics from the University of Chicago. She enjoys running obsessively while downloading audiobooks into her brain, swimming, tennis, and cooking Sunday Dinners for her extended Italian-American family. She and her husband raised four creative children in Chicago before moving to the San Francisco Bay Area, where Elizabeth successfully pretends that she's living in Tuscany while she works on a manuscript set in sixteenth-century Florence. To learn more about Elizabeth Fama and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads and Twitter.