#stupidly nice spring weather

[the-fiction-will-knit-the-real]

when the universe conspires against you to make sure you actually get outside and enjoy the lovely spring weather, by finally killing your 7 year old laptop that you were trying to use to apply to jobs that will pay you a living wage

I think laptop is now tomorrow's problem, I'm going to be sitting out on a blanket and knitting

[viviseawrites]

steve harrington presents as an alpha a month into his senior year of high school, when the weather is just turning crisp for fall. his parents are thrilled—his father keeps talking about the clout it brings to the harrington name and partnerships it might encourage at the office.

steve harrington presents as an alpha, and he knows it’s wrong. he feels it in his bones. when his first rut hits, it's like running into a wall. everything stops. everything hurts. he’s angry about his rut, made angrier by the hormones rushing through him.

he locks himself in his room, tears apart the soft pillows on his bed with too-sharp teeth. he does not deserve soft things, does not deserve gentleness. his rage wanes as the rut comes to an end, and in its wake, he feels empty, like it burned him from the inside out.

nancy says he smells like a forest fire. he sees the way she winces at it, sees how she sometimes raises her upper lip like she means to snarl at him, to rise to a threat. steve never wanted to be a threat.

but when the Upside Down comes back for round two, he puts himself in front of the stupidly brave pups and turns his nail-studded bat against the four-legged demogorgon babies. he plants his feet and knows his scent is billowing around him, aggressive and uncontrolled. and he fights.

after, dustin keeps telling him how cool he was in the junkyard. steve wonders, now. maybe he doesn’t have to be a threat; maybe he can be a protector instead. maybe the rancid, acrid smell of destruction he wears could be a controlled burn. useful. good, even.

he uses it to distract the russians from robin, allows himself to be seen as a more dangerous target and goads them into focusing on him instead. later, in a grimy mall bathroom, robin tells him he reminds her of winter nights spent in front of the hearth with hot chocolate in hand.

it’s warm, she says, smoky but nice and comforting when he’s calm. she says even when he smelled like he wanted to burn the world down in that bunker, she knew she was safe from it, safe because of it. she settles in at his side, all sharp evergreen, and he leans against her.

fire doesn’t have to hurt. alphas don’t have to be violent, untamed, impossible creatures like society claims. and when he comes face to face with eddie munson in a dilapidated boat house, on the wrong end of a broken bottle, he knows he doesn’t have to let his scent flare.

eddie munson smells like rain, like lightning, crisp ozone and petrichor, a storm of an alpha. in appearance, in scent, in attitude, he makes himself larger. but up close, face to face, steve sees his need for shelter, for safety, for peace, and he wants to be that.

against the cold of that encroaching, panicked downpour, steve makes himself a warm light, offers eddie a place to rest. he gives him grace and lifts his chin, bares his throat. surrenders to the deluge.

and when everything is done, after vecna dies and hawkins recovers, eddie approaches him smelling like spring, like new beginnings, soft and gentle and all steve ever wanted.

[volturilovers]

How you meet your mate Demetri Volturi

This is my first demetri imagine. english isn't my first language so it might not be the best thing you have read but

Y/n POV

I was walking around the castle. The kings have been alerted that I was Demetris mate and human after he found me. They came to an agreement that I could remain human for a limited amount of time since it wasn’t the best time to change me. I can still remember the day we met quite clearly.

flashback

I was shivering in the cold, it had started snowing. I had stupidly forgot to check the weather app. It is a well known fact that Sweden had unpredictable weather especially this early in the spring. One day it can be snowing or be sunny with no clouds in the sky. This morning the weather was sunny so I stupidly assumed that the weather would be good for the rest of the day. I was wrong since the temperature dropped to just a few degrees celsius above zero.

I was walking fast, taking a shortcut this cloudy and snowy day hoping that I won't get hypothermia before I reached my apartment. I was so lost in my thoughts that I suddenly bumped into someone hard chest.

"I am so sorry that i bumped into you, I was di-."

When I looked into his eyes I suddenly couldn't speak. I was struck by his beauty and felt a sudden attraction and my heart started thumping faster, I couldn't look away from his eyes. I forgot entirely that my clothes were getting wet since I didn't move when after I fell to the ground. His face held a suprised expression but also a glimse of curiousity. It was like we both forgot our surroundings and we were the only people in this world.

He was the first to snap out of it. Seeing me on the ground he offered me his hand to help me up.

"I am sorry it was my fault, are you okay miss?" he said inquiring me about my name.

"Y/N, Y/N L/N is my name" I said as I took his hand, he helped me back on my feet.

"My name is Demetri Volturi. it's nice to meet you" he bowed as he introduced himself giving me a charming smile. before looking me up and down in concern. " You are shivering. are you okay miss Y/N"

Not wanting to worry him I said I was fine. I was on my way home. He offered me his coat.

"You don't have to. I am fine really"

"I insist. You need the coat more than me. trust me" he said with a genuine smile.

"thank you" I gave him a smile, taking the coat he offered, hesitantly.I felt much better wearing the coat.

" These streets are generally unsafe, I would be honored to accompany you on your way home to assure you making it home safely."

I thought about it looking at him to see if he looked suspicious. Normally I would say no but something told me I could trust him so I answered him with a nod. And then we were on our way to my house.

He walked with me the entire way to my house. We were having a delightful conversation, learning some things about one another. He was Italian and was on a business trip and visiting his cousins that lived in the city, but too soon for my liking we got to my house and it was time to say our goodbyes.

"Thank you for walking me home, see you around?" I told him with a smile, wishing the distance to my house was much longer so we didn't have to finish the conversation since the probability that we would meet again is slim.

"I will see you around. I have some business to attend to before going backn to Italy, I hope we can have more conversations like this sometime"

This was a start of a beautiful relationship

—————————————————————————————-

A/N

How was my portrayal of Demetri? Leave your thoughts in my inbox or in the comment section. Do you want a part 2 but with Demetri’s experience of the event or a similar imagine but with another character. My inbox is open to requests. It might take time to make these imagines since I am taking courses and are generally very busy. Another Demetri imagine is on its way.

Bye lovelies❤️

[queer-cosette]

Get To Know Me

Cheers for the tag @straighttxhell!!

🖌 - Do you have/want any tattoos?

No but I really want one of a Les Fleurs de Mal quote, "We are all born marked for evil."

💚 - What’s your favourite colour?

Bluebell purple!

🍕 - What’s the last thing you ate?

Two slices of toast, one buttered, one with raspberry jam

🕰 - What time is it where you are rn?

10:31am. Tea time at work

🌟 - What is your zodiac sign?

Aries sun, Leo moon, Libra rising

🌍 - What is your favourite accent?

My best friend has such a cute glaswegian accent, I have the same accent but hers is a lot thicker and it's honestly adorable how she pronounces some words as a result. Also whatever the hell Christian Slater has going on. That man's voice is 🥺

⚡️ - Do you have any scars?

Sure, one on the back of my head from a game of Hallway Rugby gone wrong, one on my left pinkie toe from running into a radiator, several on my shoulders from various things, and I have burn calluses on all my fingertips from when I worked at the deli counter.

🌺 - What’s your MBTI type?

ESFP!

🥀 - Favourite animated movie?

How To Train Your Dragon!! It's just the best 🖤

📺 - Favourite show?

Right now, probably Criminal Minds. Or Daria.

😂 - Are you ticklish?

Very, to the point of distress :(

💍 - Do you ever want to get married?

Nah. I'm aspec and arospec.

😳 - Do you like your name?

Yeah it's a pretty nice name. Although people will insist on shortening it to my initials which I absolutely LOATHE.

💙 - What colour is your bedroom?

Midnight blue with gold stars! 🌟

🤓 - How did you get your name?

My parents were between two names and the one I got is a shade of red because when I was born I had very red lips. Still do, actually. People are often really surprised to find out that I usually wear clear lipgloss.

🎓 - When did/do you graduate?

June 2019!

🍄 - Do you have/want any piercings?

Yeah, two in my left earlobe, one in my right earlobe, and a nosering. I really want a few more ear piercings though.

👀 - What colour are your eyes?

Blue. They're less remarkable for their colour and more remarkable for the fact that they're so big I look like a cartoon character, helped along by my weirdly elastic facial expressions.

👱🏻‍♀️ - What is your go to hairstyle?

When it was long it used to be a half-ponytail, but now I usually wear it loose or pin it half-up with a butterfly clasp. No matter how I wear it though, I like it to have a ton of volume, somewhere between 1988 Veronica Sawyer and 1994 Rachel Greene.

🥂 - Have you ever drank underage?

Yes lol I turned up to my first day of Fifth Year (Junior Year/11th grade for Americans) so hungover I was still technically drunk. Drinking underage is pretty common here.

🍾 - Have you ever gotten drunk?

Do brown bears shit in the woods? Plenty of times lol. Although I'm much better behaved while drunk since graduating college. People think I'm a lightweight because it only takes a few drinks to get me behaving stupidly, but I'm generally just that much closer to behaving stupid.

😱 - What’s your biggest fear?

my recurring nightmare is being swallowed by a whale, but that's pretty unlikely to happen, so probably dogs.

🥵 - Would you rather be too hot or too cold?

Hot. You know how old injuries hurt in the cold? My elbows (missing muscle tissue on the left and damaged nerves on the right) hurt so bad in the cold I can barely move my arms.

🌦 - What’s your favourite weather?

Warm and sunny but not sweaty. Like the first proper day of spring.

🍂 - What’s your favourite season?

Autumn probably

🐷 - What’s your favourite animal?

Tie between bunny rabbits and whales! 🐇🐳

🐶 - Do you have any pets?

None any more, although I used to have a Dutch rabbit by the name of Rebel Bowie. I miss that boy.

😴 - What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

22 hours I think. I like my kip.

🎨 - Any hobbies?

Writing, drawing, playing guitar and piano and ukulele, singing, dancing, going to the theatre... many lol.

🛩 - If travelling was free, where’s the first place you’d go?

Straight back to Gothenburg to visit the Malm Whale again!! Hopefully when it has its mouth open 🤩

🎇 - What’s your most searched thing on Google?

Right now, 1980s blue tiered skirt. I'm probably gonna wind up sewing one myself.

📱 - Favourite app on your phone?

Tumblr. Easily. Maybe Spotify or Google Docs as a close second.

🤠 - Are you more of a city person or a country person?

City. I like being within walking distance of the grocery store.

Tagging: @theladyfae @hanaasbananas @swxxtcidxr @private-bryan @multimousenette if y'all wanna 💕

[godnectar]

Happy timezone my dear goddess,

What is your favourite season?

My country doesn’t have seasons at all. We’re blessed with sunny cloudy days as well as rainy days only.

But I do wish to experience fall and winter. How the leaves turn maple brown and how the animals get ready for hibernation. I wish to fall into a pile of leaves and make a snowman during winter. Fall feels so romantic while winter gives me a soothing joyous season of Christmas.. though I do not celebrate it.

But I do get happy receiving presents from friends!

—

I feel drained from spending time with grandma. I thought her social battery is low, especially coming from her two weeks long trip abroad. But I’m satisfied to be able to accompany her. I couldn’t help but feel frightened from a weird dream I had. It made me question things, but at the end of the day, a dream is just a dream.

How are you today? Are you well?

Your Cupcake🌹

Good evening, my love! <3

I'd say that my favorite seasons are autumn and winter since I adore cold and rainy weather ─ even if I sometimes freeze like a dumbass and often get sick. This might also be related a bit to how much I hate the sun and hot temperatures, but that's just me being my dramatic self,,

Seasons here are pretty distinctive from each other: spring makes everything full of little flowers and the air is loaded with pollen that kills me everytime I sneeze; summer is hot as hell, causing the beach and local pools to get extremely crowded; autumn is pretty lovely because there are lots of leaves on the ground and the breezes and small storms are very common, though relaxing; and ultimately, winter gets most surfaces icy, which earns me lots of pathetic slips, but once every few years it snows so magically that I get soft and I'm finally able to stay warm and cuddle at home 😖

Anyways- as you can see I love ranting stupidly, and the information here is totally not biased by my opinion ♡

──

It's nice to hear you were able to spend some time with her, sunshine! ngl tho- I'm now a bit curious about that dream you're talking about 👀

I'm alright hun, the sickness is fading away as the days pass, so there's nothing to worry too much about <3 wbu babe? everything good?

[overthefjords]

character questionnaire

repost, don’t reblog!

1) WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

Freshly chopped wood, some expensive and understated cologne and something icy and cold that you can’t really put your finger on. He smells like a fancy new library with leather chairs that put you in debt just by looking at them, and a snowstorm-wrapped mountain peak.

2) HOW OFTEN DOES YOUR MUSE BATHE / SHOWER?  ANY HABITS?

On the daily, absolutely. Sometimes twice in the warmer seasons; Aleks is a busy man whether that be doing heavy work cutting wood, working in his shop, or doing something outdoorsy. However, if he IS in the woods, he’s taking a bath in some cold mountain stream if the weather permits. Time of day doesn’t matter to him.

3) DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY TATTOOS OR PIERCINGS?

So, so many. Starting at the crown of his head, there is a stylized depiction of Yggdrasil that wraps around the back of his head and extends down the back of his neck, the roots twining over his back done in a crisp, black ink. This is the oldest of his tattoos, given to him way back in the Viking era, touched up many times over since then. One really only sees it when he cuts his hair short in the spring. His ears are pierced, with multiple helix and lobe piercings as well as a tragus, and his ears are symmetrically pierced. Most of the time he keeps small, dark hoops in them or flat black studs. Understated but fitting for a man like him.  Moving down to his torso, he has a sleeve down his left arm from his shoulder to his wrist depicting Norse mythology, and Ragnarok in particular. It’s his favorite tattoo, because it does indeed mean a lot to him. On the inside of his other arm, he has a small watercolor piece done to look like the aurora borealis over the fjords. In terms of piercings, he’s got his nipples done because... why not. He has others but you’ll have to be really nice to him to see those.

4) ANY BODY MOVEMENT QUIRKS (EX: LEG SHAKING)?

Constantly fiddling with his any rings he’s wearing, or his watch band. He’s not a huge fidgeter, but he does it when he’s bored. He also likes to tap on the underside of tables.

5) WHAT DO THEY SLEEP IN?

Boxers or nothing. He’s a hot sleeper.

6) WHAT’S THEIR FAVORITE PIECE OF CLOTHING?

Outside of his traditional clothing which he keeps close to his heart, he has a handmade sweater made by his brother, Fannar ( @islandiis​ ). It’s honestly one of the kindest gifts he’s gotten from someone in a very long time, and he wears it often.

7) WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY WAKE UP?

Check the weather, check his phone, listen to see if the dogs had gotten up yet (Sjor loves to play with her squeaky toys after waking up, so it’s a good tell that she and Saga are awake), laze in bed for a few minutes too long before deciding on coffee over breakfast. Then it’s get dressed and run with the dogs in the woods, shower and breakfast for everyone when they return.

8) HOW DO THEY SLEEP?  POSITION?

Aleks is a side sleeper, usually hugging an extra pillow to his chest with a dog or two smushed against his back and the back of his legs. He’s a very light sleeper, almost to his detriment if he also was not able to fall asleep literally anywhere.

9) WHAT DO THEIR HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Big and work-roughened, but shockingly careful. Such big hands on such a big man would not denote the level of care or dexterity that Aleks possesses, but woodworking and carving calls for often times a light, careful touch that carries over to tending to more than planks of hardwood.

10) IF YOU KISSED THEM, WHAT WOULD THEY USUALLY TASTE LIKE?

The same stupidly fruity/minty gum that he keeps on his person at all times. While he does not fidget, he is always chewing on something and gum is that redirection. But, if you take him out on a date, he’ll taste like a dark honeyed mead that warms you from the inside out.

tagged by: @whiskyscots​ ty bby <3

tagging: y’all

[royal-canadian-air-force]

How do you find Canada? I'm from the UK,and even though I spent a week there once, I didn't get to know much about the place.

It’s almost midnight and I’m feeling talkative, so you’re getting a stupidly long response.

So it depends on where you are.

I live in the prairies (Alberta, Manitoba, Saskatchewan), so my answer will be more specific to that. Politics, that’s a shit hole I won’t get into. Could be worse though, could be America. Geography, pretty flat for the most part where I am, but there are some really epic mountains. And I mean really epic. The lakes aren’t half bad either, and even the endless stretches of farmland are quite cozy during road trips. That’s one thing I like here, the average road trip is at least three hours at minimum. Anything else is basically just a drive. Lots of road trips here. Weather is unpredictable as fuck, but summer storms are amazing, and there’s pretty skies. The snow isn’t the worst either. Culturally, it’s pretty freaking cool. You have First Nations cultures, anglophones, and francophones as the main ones who have a big impact. Lots of festivals and events related to all those. Good food. Although First Nations people definitely still need better treatment, especially when it comes to environment, and how much things cost up in the territories. Our touristy places aren’t bad either, although some are overly hyped, you can easily drive to the next town over from the touristy ones for a proper experience. No one here can drive. Pretty sure nowhere in the world has good drivers, but still. The people from BC never follow speed limits, people from Ontario act like they own the road, and people from Alberta don’t know how to use a turning signal. Wildlife is alright. Polar bears are your biggest concern if you’re up north. “If it’s brown, lay down, if it’s black, fight back, if it’s white, goodnight.” Basically, we get bears almost everywhere, but Polar Bears are the ones you definitely don’t wanna see. Moose are big, menacing, and if you hit one with your car, the moose will walk away while you probably have a concussion. Canadian Geese are overly sensitive, way too aggressive, and absolute menaces . Sometimes you can walk right by one with nothing happening, other times one will randomly dive after at you from the sky (speaking from experience with that). We have housing issues, and inflation is a bitch, but I suppose that’s a bit of a world wide issue. We’re pretty LGBTQ friendly, although we could be a lot better *cough*danielsmith*cough*. We have decent hockey teams, in fact my team just had a win today. Our NFL teams suck ass. We only have I think one real baseball team now. We also have lacrosse (which is basically hockey, with how aggressive it is) and curling (which is boring to watch but surprisingly fun to play). We have lots, and I mean lots of fires during the summer. Our seasons are basically winter, fake spring, construction, fires. Not specifically in that order either. Lots of there stereotypes are fake (we are not nice, trust me) but I have noticed more and more people with a light, stereotypical Canadian accent. Ignoring Newfoundland and Labrador, they have their own thing going on with accents.

I could say more, but that’s probably already more of an answer than you were expecting. Overall it’s alright. Could use some improvement, but no country is perfect. I’m still debating maybe moving back to Ireland one day, but that’s a strong maybe.

Yeah, Canada is pretty chill

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Hi!! 🌸

I'm here to distract you from anxiety for a moment. April, Flowers, Past, Warning for the asks 👀

Hi!!! ♥ I actually appreciate you even going out of your way to send this so much ^-^

April - what's your favorite time of the year?

i think traditionally it has 100% been spring. but since moving to somewhere that gets stupidly hot in the summer, i think i get more excited in the fall because i can look forward to cooler weather. plus trees are pretty

Flowers - what's the nicest thing someone has surprised you with?

ok im actually having so much trouble with this one for some reason lmfao. i'm literally just sitting here staring at the ceiling in an attempt to generate a response

tbh the only thing i can think of in recent years is whenever i tell my partner that my depression is acting up and he shows up with a matcha latte bc he knows i like it a lot <3

oh i guess my best friend wrote me smut on my birthday once so that was a nice surprise as well

Past - what advice or wisdom would you bestow on your younger self?

OOF how do i answer this without trauma dumping

probably something along the lines of "quit basing your own values based off of the expectations of people who don't love you for you"

there, is that vague enough?

Warning - what would your warning label say?

WARNING: feels too many emotions and is the embodiment of chaos as a result

[watchmegetobsessed]

🔥 = smut   🌈 = readers’ favorite (with more than 1k notes)   🌷 = author’s favorite

hello there! to avoid having my masterlists getting crashed, i am now starting a new one for oneshots written in 2022! the previous posts will be available of course, only my new works will be found here!

Find my other masterlists HERE !

No Regrets — You’ve been trying your best to avoid hollywood’s biggest charmer, Harry Styles. However, your longtime friend, Gemma Chan is working harder than the devil and has other plans for NYE.

Nervous 🔥🌈--- After a series of unfortunate events, you're stuck at your boss' place for an indefinite time. And things take an unexpected turn...

Saturday Night Live 🌈--- You’re in a PR relationship with your long time friend, Pete Davidson. Hosting SNL along with Harry as the musical guest, you are hoping your fake relationship will spark some jealousy in the british singer you’ve been crushing on forever. (collab with @harrysfolklore)

My Best Girl 🔥🌈--- Sequel to Good Girl. It’s been a year since your arrangement with Harry turned into a love story. Now you’re living happily with the man of your dreams, but something causes some trouble in your little paradise. Or maybe someone…

Intruder --- Harry, being the heroic boyfriend that he is, saves you from a vicious spider in the bedroom.

Violet --- Harry calls out the name of a woman in his sleep. But it’s not yours…

Growing Old 🌷--- Harry reflects on the passing of time on the morning of his 28th birthday. Growing old doesn’t sound too scary with you by his side.

Puzzle Pieces --- Harry loves a good party. But he loves spending his evening at home with you.

The Naked Truth🔥 --- Harry is a broke med student and Niall talks him into modeling for an art class. Naked.

Next Door 🔥🌈--- Your neighbor keeps getting on your nerves and you hate him for that but you hate how good-looking he is even more.

Language Course --- Doing promo interviews is tiring, especially when an asshole makes fun of your accent. Luckily Harry, your costar is quick to defend you.

Teamwork 🔥🌈 --- You're rather quiet in bed, but Harry is desperate to make you scream and he is not afraid to use toys in the process.

Sunkissed --- The warm spring weather brings out your obsession with Harry's neck and shoulders.

As It Was 🌈 --- You’re on a break, but Harry calls you drunk one night and you don’t even think twice before going over to check on him.

Wasted Time 🔥🌈 --- An unusually nice looking man wanders into the bar where you work at and an unexpected friendship forms along with a deal, but how long can it last when you start to fall for the man that’s out of your league?

Three Birthdays --- A glimpse of three of your birthdays in the past 2 decades, all of them somehow connected to Harry.

Proof --- People think your relationship with Harry is just a PR stunt, but you have a wild idea how you could prove them wrong.

Power Couple --- You’re an independent and strong woman and Harry loves that about you. He won’t let anyone belittle you by dropping your doctoral title.

Wet Dreams 🔥🌈--- Harry misses you. A lot… and he shares with you the wet dreams he’s been having about you.

Infatuation 🔥🌈— You’re about to start your business as an interior designer. Thanks to your best friend, your first client turns out to be none other than Harry Styles, the insanely handsome and stupidly rich business man.

Everyday Things - Harry loves the everyday things, especially when they include you. Like going to the supermarket in the night because you want ice-cream and then shagging in the car, because he can’t keep his hands to himself.

Ice Cold --- Harry goes swimming in the Irish Sea and he wants you to go with him.

My Queen 🌈--- Harry would do anything for his pregnant girlfriend, just minutes before he is expected to be on the stage he is still seeking ways to comfort her.

Exception 🌈--- Harry had a long day and enough of everyone. Everyone, except you.

The Feeling Is Mutual --- Your little Italian getaway with Harry is something you’ll probably remember forever, since it’s where Harry has decided to get on one knee.

Intimate And Public 🌈--- Being on your honeymoon in Italy, you make some realizations about your marriage.

Princess 🌈--- Harry has been relentless to get you to date him. At a frat party you finally have a conversation that overturns everything.

Cover Up 🔥🌈--- Harry gets a little too possessive when he sees your nipples peeking through your shirt.

In The Middle --- You have different beliefs about marriage, but you end up meeting in the middle.

Overprotective --- Harry takes being protective a bit too far and you snap.

Blind Eye 🔥🌷🌈--- Harry thought everything was going well in his marriage. Right until one day his wife left with no explanation and not he is stuck in the dark, waiting to find out how he can fight for what matters the most to him.

Big Boss 🌈--- Your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his career. So you start dating his boss.

Cozy Sunday --- Spending the day in bed with your boyfriend.

Snacks And Sex 🌈--- You’re three months pregnant, but the world doesn’t know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

Parent Trap 🔥🌈--- Harry has been crushing on the mother of her daughter’s classmate and now that she has divorced, a bake sale finally brings them together.

Golden Ticket --- You change your mind about your halloween costume last minute because you fear Harry might find it too revealing, but he thinks otherwise.

Childish 🌈--- It was supposed to be a perfect, cozy fall weekend. Right until you doubt whether you’re the perfect fit for your older, successful boyfriend.

Hopelessly Devoted To You --- You’re hopelessly devoted to Harry’s Danny costume.

Like Fine Wine 🌈--- Harry needs glasses, but he refuses to put them on and there’s a deeper meaning behind it than you thought.

Date Night 🌈--- You’re supposed to go on a date night, but when Harry comes home he finds you, his pregnant wife asleep, so he changes your plans for the evening.

Delicious 🔥🌈--- There’s just something incredibly delicious about seeing Harry sunbathing.

Subtle 🌈--- Harry’s not so subtle way of hinting that he is in the mood.

Midnight Crush 🌈--- Harry has had a crush on Sarah’s sister for a long time and this year, at the NYE party he can finally shoot his shot, because she’s freshly single.

No Heartbreak 🌈--- You planned to spend the holidays alone, just like you always do. However, your boss had other ideas.

Sauna Session 🔥🌈--- All you wanted was some relaxing time alone in the nude sauna cabin, but that one mysterious and ridiculously handsome man had to be there at the same time as you. Things get hot, but not just because of the sauna.

Twenty-Nine --- It’s Harry’s birthday, he is surrounded by love, but there is one person missing from beside him. You.

And The Grammy Goes To 🌈--- The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

The BRITs 🔥--- You and Harry are getting drunk at the BRITs and you can’t control your desires for each other.

Early Morning --- Early morning snuggles in bed.

Sneaky --- Everyone is into the hot TA that substitutes for your professor. One sneaky picture leads you to what every girl dreamed of in class.

Fascination --- Part 2 to Infatuation. Making your first official appearance as Harry’s girlfriend brings some struggles, but you realize that nothing really matters as long as you have his love.

Bulletproof 🌷🌈--- Being Eroda’s first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who’s been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

Decode --- You’re up for the promotion you’ve always dreamt about, but right when you need to prove everything goes downhill. Lucky for you the cute, quiet IT guy, Harry, is there to help you out.

Night Out 🌈--- You’re getting ready for a girls’ night out and Harry joins you in the bathroom in the process, mesmerized with everything you do.

Too Far 🌈--- Harry has been extremely clingy since you’ve found out you were pregnant and this morning is no exception either.

Dessert 🌈--- Harry gets hit on at an event, but the woman fails terribly, because he only has eyes for his pregnant girlfriend who is busy by the buffet table.

Cheesy --- It's your annual trip to Italy with your boyfriend, but he is planning to make it special by asking you one important question.

My Hero --- Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

No More Games 🔥🌈--- Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it’s a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad’s barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father’s company.

Crush --- Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven’t given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy’s afterparty and you finally tell him why you’re so adamant about keeping your distance.

Puppy Love 🌷🌈--- Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he’s been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he’s been seeing on these walks.

Wardrobe Malfunction 🌈--- You’re dealing with a bit of a wardrobe malfunction upon arriving to a wedding. At first your boyfriend is no help, but then he saves the day as always.

My Husband 🌈---  It’s been days since your wedding, but it is just now sinking in. Harry is your husband.

On Repeat 🔥🌈--- As his personal assistant, you definitely shouldn’t be havin dirty thoughts of Harry, especially not about the way his tongue on his guitar. But it’s hard to resist and you need relief, but you never thought your boss would be more than willing to help you out.

Just Hands 🔥--- Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

Unspoken --- Your college roommate wants to get you out of your shell and brings you to your first frat party. It’s not quite your setting, but when you meet a nice boy in the bathroom it gets better. Right until he catches your roommate’s eyes as well.

The Final Show 🌈--- You made a promise in the beginning of Love On Tour and now it’s catching up with you and though your heart wants you to keep your word, you know it’s not that easy, because it’s about your boss, the person who matters the most to you.

Home --- You knew the emotions would catch up with Harry once more after the show. And you’re there to guide him through these overwhelming feelings.

Illicit Thoughts 🔥🌈--- Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

Illicit Temptation 🔥🌈--- Part II. to Illicit Thoughts. A business trip to Italy brings more than just professional success. One hot afternoon, deliciously cold water and a series of unfortunate events bring out the illicit temptation you both have been fighting.

Illicit Acts 🔥🌈--- Part III. to Illicit Thoughts and Illicit Temptation. The temptation is higher than ever, especially when Harry has to watch you dance with his possible future business partner.

Fruity --- Italy, Harry, pregnancy cravings and an ice-cream crisis solved by your wonderful husband.

Siren --- It was supposed to be a little lonely getaway in your dad’s Italian villa, but plans get a little messed up and you end up having to share the villa with your dad’s friend, Harry.

Trophy Wife 🌈--- You’re not what one would expect a CEO’s girlfriend to be like. You’re not like all those trophy wives. But does it bother Harry? That with you it’s not yachts and fancy drinks and modern luxury, just wildflowers, mismatched furniture and shared finances.

Unofficial --- You and Harry are in a temporary phase of bein unofficial, but you don’t mind it, especially the tiny moments you share when no one is looking.

Mistletoe --- Everyone knows Harry is crushing on Y/N, but he hasn’t made any major moves. Maybe tonight, when they find themselves under the mistletoe…

One Year --- On the day before Christmas you realize just how much has changed in one year.

Mistaken hatred --- Things don’t go as smooth as you planned with your bakery’s opening, but you’re doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred…

The Usual --- It’s a slow day at the diner, everyone is in a post-Christmas haze. However yours clears up when your favorite stranger shows up, smug as always but this time some nasty bruises are all over his handsome face.

Forever --- Bucky feels like the luckiest man alive to call you his and he is ready to call you by another name: his wife. But for that he needs to make you his fiancé first.

Hot And Nice --- Sebastian accidentally goes live.

Monster --- Frank shows up at your place again but this time you’ll not let him belittle your feelings for him.

Avenge You 🌈--- When Steve is pulled into the Upside Down through watergate, you do not hesitate before jumping after him.

Back Together 🌈--- You and Steve broke up not long ago, but watching over Max in the night brings the two of you back together.

[heliads]

Being Miss Misery

Based on this request: “a fic with newt based off mr perfectly fine by taylor swift”

masterlist

If you were going to describe the one thing you looked forward to each morning, the one person who made you want to fight your whole life to escape the Maze, you would say it was Newt. How could you not? You love him, after all. Or, you loved him. There are days when you wish you could go back in time and tell yourself that you had gotten it all wrong, that some dreams were just meant to stay dreams and never become real. Then again, if you had never let yourself jump this time you’d spend the rest of your life thinking about the fall you could have had.

In the end, you suppose there was no way you could have ever chosen differently. No matter what happened, no matter what words were said, you could never quite forget how happy you were before, even when you were stuck in the Maze. That was the best thing about Newt, after all- he made you smile like no one else ever could. There’s always a second side to every coin, though, and that means that he has hurt you in a way so unique to him that no one else could ever hope to mimic it. No matter how many times Janson or WICKED tried to hurt you, nothing would ever cut quite as deep as this.

With every story, there’s a start. A reason why things ended up the way they did. Yours begins with the Box, the same way every other Glader remembers their first day. There is no before, not in the Maze. Just the Box, and what comes after. Everything else has been wiped from your mind, cleared away like fog from a glass. Gone, never to be found again.

You had been pulled from the metal box and stood, squinting, letting your eyes adjust to the sudden bright sunlight. You had looked around, taking in the sight of the massive stone walls surrounding you and felt your pulse start to skyrocket. Before you could really start to panic, though, a voice sounded out from behind you. It was quiet, peaceful, and you knew from that second that you would be alright.

“That’s the Maze.” You had turned to face a blond boy, one with a limp and a slight accent that tinged his words the same stilted gold as a piece of bronze. “The Maze?” The boy had nodded sagely. “You’re in the Glade now, greenie. The Maze keeps us stuck in here.” You had nodded again, and the boy apparently took pity on you, softening his tone even more, folding it up into a more peaceable sound. “I’m Newt, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

You had started for the usual greeting, the fine, thank you, and I’m- but the problem was that you couldn’t remember your own name. No place, no history, no name. It’s like you were a blank canvas, but one that had once held the most brilliant of landscapes if you could only remember it. Newt had clicked his tongue softly. “You won’t remember it, love. It’ll take a while before your name comes back to you. Don’t worry, everyone forgets.” You had stared at him. “Where are we? I know it’s the Glade, but where is it?”

Newt had shrugged. “Nobody knows. We all just showed up here, one at a time, with no memory or anything except the shirt on our backs. You can ask all the questions you want, but we won’t have any answers.” He had looked at you sideways then. “Actually, don’t ask all the questions. We told that to Chuck-” he points to a young boy with a mop of curly brown hair, “-and he took us too literally. Don’t think we slept for a week. All we heard was questions.”

You bite back a laugh. “Sounds good, Newt. I’ll keep my questions in the single digits.” Newt flashes you a smile that seems as bright as the sun. “I like you already. I think we’re going to get along very well.” If only he had known how true that would be. If only you had known, so that you could stay away.

You’re not sure you can remember quite when you realized you loved him. In the end, the exact date doesn’t really matter. It happened, you couldn’t shake it, and it felt like the most beautiful mistake you might ever make. In the Glade, you couldn’t count on anything- not the weather, not the people, not even the Maze, which changed each night. When Newt had told you how he felt one night by the campfire, you were sure that it would haunt you for the rest of your life, that it was too good to be true or too good to last.

You had started to stand up, ready to hurry away and pretend like you hadn’t heard a word. Newt had stood up too, taking your hand and keeping you by his side. “I’m not going to break your heart, Y/N. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ve been waiting for you all my life, and I want to be here with you. Right by your side, until the end.” You had smiled at him then, finally letting the last of your walls down. When he kissed you, even the whoops of the other Gladers weren’t enough to dissuade you.

There was nobody like him, that much was true. He made the Glade better, made even the stormiest days feel like a cloudless blue. You came to trust him, to depend on him. You believed that he wouldn’t leave. It was like he said, right? He looked you in the eye and told you he would never go away. You two were practically inseparable, and it was the best feeling on the entire planet.

When Thomas arrived, bringing with him the destruction of the Glade and promises that he could get everyone out, you thought it was the best thing you’d heard in a while. You had held Newt’s hand while you ran through the Maze, dodging Grievers and doing everything in your power to keep the other alive. That was what you did best, after all- loving each other, staying together. You can still remember that one night before you left, when fires had been burning the homesteads down and the shrieks of dying Gladers echoed through the night. It drives you to run faster, to move farther away from everything that had happened and all the horrors you had seen.

Newt had taken your hand in his, pulling you close in the dark of the night. “We’re getting out of here, alright? Promise. I love you, Y/N, and we can finally have a life outside of all this.” You had smiled at him, letting him press a kiss to your cheek. It sounded perfect, that was the problem. Perfectly fine, and none of it was true, although you’d have no way of knowing it then.

That day seemed to pass in a blur, and the next day, and the next. You made it out of the Maze, out of the nest of Grievers, and into a pressed-clean WICKED facility. They promised you safety, shepherding you into groups of other boys and girls who’d managed to make it out of their respective Mazes. When Newt gestured for you to talk to him separately, away from the other boys from your Maze, you had assumed nothing of it. How wrong you had been.

His voice was quiet, eyes darting over to the other boys as if wanting to make sure that they didn’t hear. “I want to break up with you, Y/N.” You had stared at him, not able to understand. “What?” He swallowed, then repeated himself. “I want to break up with you. I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I don’t think this is going to work out. I just- I stayed with you for longer than I should have in the Maze, because I thought we were going to die, but-”

You cut him off, feeling your tone turn icy. “You’re done now because our lives aren’t at risk anymore? You don’t have to feel guilty about it?” Newt winces. “It’s not like that, Y/N. Honest. You’re a great girl and all that, I just don’t think it’s working out anymore. Sorry.” With one last insincere apology, he turns and walks towards the rest of the boys, his step considerably lighter as if a sudden burden has been relieved from his shoulders. You’re left to stand there, alone and mute and utterly heartbroken.

There’s nothing left to do except pick up your broken pieces and go back to the table with the others. Even this brief moment of weakness, this one last hesitation by the door, has drawn looks of confusion from the Gladers. You force a smile, a spring in your step, and sit down next to them. If you make sure not to sit next to the backstabbing blond boy, well, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

The days blend together, one into the next. You didn’t realize how much you depended on seeing Newt, talking to him, saying something clever and warranting a smile, until it was all gone. You were still a Glader, and that meant that when everyone escaped the WICKED compound he made sure you stayed alive like the others, but for once, there are no more strings attached. No promises to make it out, no lies told to make it through the night. This is what it was like in the beginning, you remind yourself, and you have to learn to deal with it once more. If only it was as easy to do it as it is to say it.

Now you sit alone at a campfire in the Scorch, watching white-hot sparks cascade into the open air. Your friends from the Glade have met up with the girls from Group B and some members of the Right Arm, meaning that you’re in a crowd for the first time in a while ever since entering the Scorch. All around you, people are taking advantage of the sudden numbers to mingle and chatter with the din of a flock of birds, but not you. No, you use the overwhelming mass of people to hide away, blending into another silhouette in the desert.

It appears you’re not to be alone forever, though. Someone slumps down into the seat next to you. You smile ruefully at the expression on her face- the same heartsick, stupidly trusting look that you have no doubt has been on your own. Brenda, it appears, is not doing well with the sight of Thomas parading back and forth with Teresa. 

“Having a good night, Brenda?” She gives you a look. “About as well as you, I think. How are you, by the way? I heard you were dating Newt in the Maze but if looks could kill I think he’d be worse off than the Cranks.” You sigh. “We were dating, that much is true. He broke up with me out of the blue, broke my heart for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t feel like he had to protect me anymore as we were out of the Maze.”

Brenda stares at you, all thoughts of Thomas banished. “He didn’t say that. Tell me he didn’t say that.” You nod, smiling bittersweetly. “He did indeed. Mr. Casually Cruel, that’s his new name from now on.” Brenda looks over at you. “If he’s Mr. Casually Cruel, what does that make you?” You prop your chin up on your hands, staring with unseeing eyes at the throngs of people around you. “Miss Misery, I guess. He’s perfectly fine, I’m falling apart.”

Your eyes find a familiar figure in the crowd, one you’ve been doing your best to avoid but always seeming to return to. “The worst part is that he moved on so quickly. You’d think he’d forgotten he’d ever heard my name. I mean, look at him.” You jerk your chin towards a pair of figures on the opposite side of the roaring campfire: a blond boy, arms wrapped around Harriet. He smiles at her, lingering traces of his face disappearing into a haze of heat from the flames in between you. 

“I’ve been picking up the pieces of my heart, he’s been picking up her. I’m starting to think that I never meant anything to him at all.” Brenda clicks her tongue indignantly. “That jerk. Hey, if you ever need someone to accidentally push him off a cliff-” You cut her off, laughing. “I’ll look to you first. Don’t think we’ll need that quite yet, though.” Brenda folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t need him, though. Honestly. He wants to promenade around here like he’s Mr. Always Wins, fine. He just walked out on the best thing in his life and he doesn’t even realize it.”

You smile at your friend, a true smile this time. “Thanks, Brenda. Now, if you could keep your same advice around Thomas-” Brenda holds up her hands, starting to laugh. “We’re not talking about that! I changed my mind, let’s go back to Newt.” If you’re so distracted by the conversation and laughter with your friend that you don’t notice a certain blond boy looking your way, eyes drawn to you again and again even if he does his best to pretend otherwise, maybe it’s for the best.

The night is late, stars hung in the sky as if by some absentminded hand. The fire has died away to ash and coals, tendrils of smoke starting to creep up to the horizon. The din of the gathering has proved a little too much for you, and you’ve chosen to fade away into the night, your feet carrying you further and further from the center of the group. You lean against a rough rock face, letting your eyes trace the curves and stars of the night sky. You’re distracted enough by the sights that you don’t hear the uneven footsteps coming up behind you, the telltale lurch of a boy with a limp.

“You always liked looking at the stars, didn’t you?” You startle at Newt’s voice, appearing out of nowhere. You shake yourself, forcing your shoulders to sink and relax once more. “They’re beautiful. Always have been.” Newt’s smile is as sure as a running river, always strategized, always well-placed. There’s a confidence there, too, an edge. Proof that he’s so far above you in every sense, above feeling anything at all. “Just like you.”

You raise an eyebrow. After everything he’s put you through, after everything that destroyed you but never fazed him, you’ve learned to doubt a careless compliment like this. That may be all you’ve learned, but it is enough. Newt takes your silence as an invitation to keep speaking. “I think I’ve made a mistake, Y/N. You’ve always been so good to me, you know? Always here to stay, always at the right place at the right time. I hate to speak too quickly, but would you consider giving me another chance?”

You’ve thought about this moment for a long time. Mr. Perfectly Fine, Mr. Casually Cruel, finally seeing you in new eyes and realizing that by leaving you he was giving up everything you might have had together. But you’ve seen this moment through a hundred times in your head, and for once your head is clear, eyes bright and looking forward instead of on what might have happened. You know your answer, once and for all.

[kar-krashew]

life could be a dream [AO3]

Alec navigates first dates, second dates, and general panic, while accidentally making a friend along the way. He's not sure how to feel about any of that, but it seems to be going okay.

Rated T for language and implied sexual content.

@arsenic-creator for you, my lovely ❤ This is an interlude, of sorts, between the Cars AU and the planned Cars 2 AU :D

Alec is ninety percent sure whoever came up with the concept of first dates was a sadist; who else would devise a concept so nerve-wracking and excruciating? Currently, he’s in a random hotel in Spiral Springs, aptly named as he’s spent the last hour spiraling into insanity as he tries to figure out what normal people wear on first dates with people like Magnus Bane. He can’t even call Izzy, because she’s off on some “important work trip” with Jace. (That basically means that they’re going to be mysterious and vague during phone calls the whole time— and that’s only if they answer. He knows better than to ask.)

Thus, Alec has two options: suffer, and show up to his first date with Magnus in his normal shitty worn-out jeans and shirt, or suffer more, and ask someone in town for help. Unfortunately, the only other people available to him are Raphael (Alec is pretty sure he’d be found dead the next morning if he asked Raphael about dating advice), Ragnor (the man dresses like a reclusive British hermit, Alec really doesn’t think asking him will help), and Simon.

Shit.

“Do I really need someone else’s help?” Alec asks his own reflection in the mirror, “I look fine, right? And it’s not like Simon’s got a better idea of how these dates work.”

He looks great, honestly! Probably. He’s fine, as long as he ignores the suspicious fraying of his collar and the faded white patches on his jeans, and okay, he lied, he does not look fine.

Also, Simon’s had like three pretty steady girlfriends already. The kid must be doing something right.

“Shit,” Alec groans again— out loud this time, for intended effect— before taking a deep breath and grabbing his phone.

Fine. If it takes talking to Simon, he’s going to talk to Simon. Besides, how bad could it be?

---

Really bad. Like, really fucking bad; Alec had forgotten how annoying Simon is, and he’s regretting this decision wholeheartedly now.

“No one’s really asked me for dating advice before, you know,” Simon says from where he’s rummaging through Alec’s suitcase, “And of the people I would expect to ask me, you’re, like, last on that list. Not in a bad way or anything, it’s just weird, you know?”

Alec does know. This is the third time Simon has said this.

“Sure, totally,” he grits out, watching Simon carelessly toss his neatly folded clothing onto the hotel bed. Alec is going to have to reorganize the whole case after this is over, because these sorts of things have systems and the kid is ruining it. This was definitely more trouble than it’s worth.

“Yep. Anyway, wow, I’m no expert, but you really don’t have a lot of options in here.” Simon whistles, pauses for a minute, then upends the entire suitcase onto the mattress before Alec can intercept. God, Alec’s going to strangle him. “That’s better! So, you seem to only have, like, one decent button-down, and those always look nice. Maybe pair it with a tighter pair of jeans? Your jacket would look nice with this, too, though I’d leave it out in this weather.” Simon tosses the articles of clothing towards Alec as he speaks, hitting Alec squarely in the face, but he’s already been distracted by something else before he can register the glare being sent his way.

“Okay,” he says after another moment, “Show me what you got.”

Alec’s skeptical, to be frank, but he decides to indulge Simon anyway, so he heads to the bathroom and tries on the outfit and—

Oh.

Simon’s really not bad at this thing. Izzy probably could’ve picked something a little more flattering, but this is way better than whatever Alec was wearing earlier; he didn’t even know he’d remembered to bring this shirt when he’d packed his bags.

“Hey, man, you look great!” Simon beams. “I wasn’t totally sure that would work out, but you look awesome! Magnus is going to love it.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” Alec replies, and he’s surprised to realize he means it. Simon’s grin stretches out wider, somehow, and Alec doesn’t even feel that annoyed.

(Oh no, does this mean he tolerates Simon now?)

“It’s gonna go great, Alec, don’t worry about it,” Simon responds, oblivious to Alec’s internal turmoil— Alec is seriously having a breakdown over the fact that Simon has somehow made it onto the short list of people Alec doesn’t want to punch on sight, because what the fuck does that say about Alec’s standards? His reputation is on the line. “Magnus has lived here for a while, which means I know him well enough to tell you that you make him really happy.” Alec stares at him blankly.

“I— That means a lot, actually,” he manages, then they both just kind of. . . stand there for a minute. Alec isn’t sure how to process the fact that they seem to be having a moment when he was preparing to initiate anti-Lewis measures just seconds ago, so it’s almost a relief when Simon ruins it with the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“I feel like a proud mother sending her kid to prom. Do I need to give you a sex talk? No one actually gave me that speech when I was younger, but I did improv in highschool, so I could probably work something out.”

Scratch whatever he said earlier; Alec hates him.

---

The trauma Simon inflicts on him is almost completely worth it when Alec sees the way Magnus checks him out for a moment. The other’s standing outside the entrance to some obscure Chinese restaurant, smiling warmly and turning Alec’s knees to jello with his low-cut blue tunic and shimmery eyeliner (not helped by the fact that he has managed to find pants that are even tighter than his usual leather ones— Alec’s going to die of a heart attack before they can even enter the establishment).

“Hey,” he says, trying not to look stupidly overwhelmed at Magnus’s answering smile, “You, uh, you look amazing.”

“I could say the same, Alexander. This shirt is definitely doing you favors,” Magnus replies, and Alec blushes.

“Would it be completely unattractive if I admitted Simon picked it out for me?” he asks, half-serious, but Magnus just laughs, taking Alec’s hand in his own.

“Of course not. Remind me to thank him next time we meet.”

The rest of the night goes by in a blur: Alec’s sure that the restaurant and everything was amazing, but it’s hard to notice things like ambiance and food when one has a front row seat to the wonder that is the gentle tilt of Magnus’s mouth. He spends the night being regaled with far-fetched anecdotes in between shameless bouts of flirting and giggling, and it’s nice, it’s really nice; alone, away from cameras and parents, just the two of them tucked away in a cozy little corner booth together.

It’s kind of the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

Maybe first dates, Alec thinks, lying in bed later that night, the taste of lip gloss still faint on his tongue, aren’t too bad after all.

---

“Oh my gosh, are you going on dates and making friends? I’m so proud, my baby brother is all grown up,” Izzy sniffs over the phone, “Do we need to talk about safe sex?”

“Why is that the conclusion everyone draws? Do I look that repressed?” Alec groans, thinking back to Simon’s earlier pursuit to educate him on the carnal pleasures of the world. He’d managed to cut the kid off after the first use of the word “penetrative,” but it had been enough to fuel his nightmares for a solid two days afterwards. “Also, I’m older than you.”

“Details,” Izzy dismisses. “Speaking of which, spill! How was it? I still can’t believe you ran off to Spiral Springs without telling anyone. Mom must be absolutely livid, I just wish I was there to see it.”

Alec rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see it over the phone— the sentiment is there, and that’s what matters. “You would be here to see it if you weren’t off doing lord-knows-what in god-knows-where every other week with Jace,” he replies.

“Import-export business, Alec,” Izzy says, “I’ve told you this.”

“Right, the same way you’ve told me you can cook without poisoning everyone. We both know it’s a load of bullshit.”

“We’re getting off topic!” his sister exclaims, which is Izzy-speak for “We’re not talking about this for another year or so,” as she artfully changes the subject. “I believe I asked for specifics about your date with Magnus, hermano. You are not getting out of this.”

Luckily for her, Alec is easily distracted by even the vaguest thought or mention of Magnus, because he’s a total fucking sap and Izzy knows exactly how to use it to her advantage. He would say he hates her, but, well: he’s thinking about Magnus now. That’s infinitely more important, obviously.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he sighs. The exhale’s got this kind of pathetically lovesick quality to it, but he barrels on, praying Izzy won’t comment on it. “We ate, then he walked me back to the hotel and kissed me at the door before he left. It was amazing. God, Izzy, I like him so much.”

In a perfect, normal world, this would be an opportune time for Izzy to realize that Alec is kind of horribly vulnerable and honest when it comes to Magnus, and for her to be gentle and supportive about it. However, because normalcy is a pipe dream that Alec’s siblings are hellbent on crushing, he is treated instead to an inhumanly high-pitched squeal, followed by frantic shuffling before a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jace’s floods the phone speaker. Given that the most-definitely-Jace-voice is currently yelling something about condoms and endowment and the logistics of same-sex intercourse, Alec decides that hanging up is the appropriate course of action here.

(God, they’re the worst. He’s never going to talk to them again. Or at least, he’s not going to pick up their calls for the next week. Okay, maybe, like 3 days. Probably.)

Great, he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Now that that’s settled, he can get back to other matters, like fucking losing his mind because he had totally forgotten to ask Izzy how to plan a second date so he’s now screwed but he’s definitely not calling her back especially now that he knows Jace has her phone and that means he’s been left to his own resources to plan the perfect second date for Magnus and he’s going to have to do it all by himself and he’s going to fail spectacularly because he’s never had to do anything like this before and no one can help him unless—

Unless. . .

“Shit,” Alec says— out loud, for intended effect again, as a horrible flash of deja vu strikes him— which is how, minutes later, Simon ends up sprawled out on the hotel bed next to him at 4 pm on a Wednesday afternoon.

Alec should really start looking into better coping mechanisms before this becomes a problem.

“Okay, so the first thing about this is that you’re approaching it all wrong,” Simon says, sitting up to peer at Alec over his glasses. “Dates are about spending time together, not about being perfect, so don’t stress! What did you initially have in mind?”

That’s the issue: Alec didn’t have anything in mind, because when he had said that he’d organize the next date, he wasn’t exactly operating on full brain function. Impaired thought processes tend to be a common side effect around Magnus, now that Alec thinks about it— he should probably get that checked.

“I really have no clue,” Alec groans. “There’s so much that could go wrong! What if I take him somewhere that reminds him of his ex? Or I stumble and spill slushie all over his shoes and they’re brand new designer ones and he ends things with me on the spot? Or he hates the food there and realizes that my tastes are shit and he decides to cut his losses instead of being forced to eat shitty food everyday that he hangs out with me? Or—”

“Alec, jeez!” Simon interrupts. “Man, you’re kind of a mess about this, huh?”

Okay, rude. Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean it needs to be pointed out. Alec just groans louder, and lets his head fall heavily against the headboard. “I’m so fucked.”

Simon shakes his head, standing up to pose solemnly. “Don’t lose hope yet, young padawan! Come on, you gotta have something. What do you know he likes?” he says, and because Alec is a sucker when it comes to talking about Magnus (as established earlier), the tactic totally works.

“Okay, well,” he starts, “I know he likes expensive wines with names I can’t pronounce. He likes late nights and old classical music, but his ringtone changes every week to a different Britney Spears pop song. He’s kind of a horrible romantic, but I really like that about him. I. . . like a lot of things about him.”

Simon blinks for a moment, and Alec hurries to wipe the besotted smile that’s inevitably found its way onto his mouth. It’s too late, though— Simon’s already grinning back at him, looking too excited for his own good. “That’s so cheesy,” he coos, “But in, like, totally a good way, I promise.” He pats Alec’s shoulder, once, then stands up. “I think I have an idea of what would work. Any ideas in terms of the venue?”

“Oh,” Alec says after a moment. He’s still thinking about Magnus, which means he’s thinking about their previous meetings, which means he’s thinking about—

“Yeah,” he replies, “I have the perfect place in mind.”

---

“So, where are we headed?” Magnus asks. He’s beautiful like this, in the light of the passing streetlights, silver chains glinting like stars, silk tunic flowing like water, hair mussed from the wind. If Alec didn’t have a plan for this evening, he’d probably do something very dumb like slamming the breaks on the car and kissing him senseless. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, not by a long shot.

Maybe he can fit that part later into the evening.

“You’ll see,” Alec replies, beaming a little at the pout it brings on Magnus’s— stupidly kissable— mouth. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Magnus frowns, but he still leans forward as they pass by a familiar waterfall. Alec can see the moment he processes what that waterfall means, his face lighting up completely as he does so. “Are we going to the Dumont?”

Alec shrugs, trying to be mysterious, but he’s grinning too wide for it to mean anything but a yes. It’s fine; if ruining the surprise means that he gets to see Magnus’s bright smile an extra few moments earlier than planned, it’s totally worth it.

When they finally pull up next to the old sign, Magnus has already noticed the changes to the hotel. “Oh,” he gasps, stepping out of the car, “Alexander.”

Lights are strung up around the outdoor courtyard, with a singular table in the center, a candle and plates arranged across its surface. Simon’s standing there, dressed in a black dress shirt, grinning at the two of them as music plays softly from some unknown corner. It’s horribly cheesy and romantic, and, judging by the way Magnus is excitedly clutching Alec’s hand as they approach the table, it’s worked like a charm.

Alec could marry Simon after this; the kid’s a fucking genius.

“Good evening, sirs!” Simon grins, “Welcome to the Hotel Dumont. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” He bows, pulling out a chair from behind him, and Magnus laughs delightedly.

“This is absolutely lovely!” he exclaims, settling down. “Did you come up with all this?”

Alec blushes, sitting down right beside him. “Well, Simon did most of the work,” he replies, and Simon shakes his head.

“He’s totally lying; he did, like, all of the decorations and set up, and most of the plan, too. I’m just glad to be of help, man.” He hands them menus, then steps back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment while you decide. Don’t do anything too scandalous!”

Alec rolls his eyes— because really, what could they get up to sitting like this?— but then Magnus places his hand on Alec’s thigh as he leans closer and okay, maybe there’s a lot they could get up to, and maybe Alec is now thinking about all those things in a setting he really should not be, and maybe he should’ve let Izzy give him that talk after all.

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, leaning closer still, “All of this is amazing, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” He tilts his face up invitingly, and Alec’s helpless to the pull of it, pressing his lips against the other’s. It’s supposed to be just a light brush, but then Magnus shifts nearer and opens his mouth up a little further and fuck, Alec’s libido is suddenly making a desparate appearance in this very public locale. That’s an issue, probably. Whatever. He can’t really bring himself to care right now.

“Mm,” he hums between kisses, “we should really decide on what to eat— hm, before Simon comes back,” but then he chases after Magnus’s mouth right after saying it, so that undermines the message a little. Though no one can really say it’s his fault: kissing Magnus is temptation incarnate, and Alec is a weak, weak man.

They do, eventually, unfortunately, break apart, which is exactly when Simon finally shows up with some expensive drink that he’d sworn Magnus would like. It seems to fill the has-an-impossible-to-pronounce-name quota that Alec had mentioned earlier, so he’s rolling with it. He’s also rolling with the menu, because Alec had planned on pre-planned meals for this thing, so he has no clue where Simon had managed to get proper menus with a selection of food (though the Spanish-themed cuisine on the menu and the passive-aggressive text he receives the next day from Raphael might be able to explain that).

Simon’s left them and they’re finally finished with their courses when some even sappier song starts playing on the speakers, and Alec, being a total dork, stands up and invites Magnus to dance with him. Alec’s kind of shit at dancing, so he’s not sure why he does that, but they end up pressed against each other, swaying slowly, and he can’t even regret it, not even when Magnus laughs at him for stepping on his toes.

It’s perfect. Alec has no clue how he’s going to live up to this on future dates. He’s also, like, halfway to proposing on the spot.

“I reiterate my statement from earlier: this is absolutely lovely, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs after a while. His head’s pressed against Alec’s shoulder, so the words brush Alec’s ear softly as he speaks. “I have quite a bit of planning to do for our next date if this is the standard we’re setting already,” he teases.

“We could eat takeout on my couch while watching some boring regency-era movie and I’d still love it,” Alec replies bashfully, “I got a little nervous this time and went really big, but I promise you don’t have to go this hard to impress me.”

“And you thought you did?” Magnus asks. He pulls away slightly, looking Alec in the eyes. “Darling, the same goes for me. This is stunning, but I genuinely just like you and your company, and that takeout thing sounds more than enjoyable. Though we might have to revisit your opinion on regency-era movies.”

Alec grins. “Why, Mr. Bane, don’t tell me you enjoy watching such long-winded pieces of media, filled to the brim with such stuffy, superfluous dialogue?”

Magnus gasps, seemingly affronted. “How dare you!” he exclaims, “It’s about the drama, the yearning! I’m sure you just haven’t seen the right ones. Next time, I’m making you watch my entire collection.” Alec laughs in response, and it seems to soften something in Magnus’s eyes, because he pulls close again, tilting their foreheads together.

“You know, Mr. Lightwood,” he murmurs, “I’m not the sort of gentleman to invite someone into my home on only our second evening together, but I’m sure I could make an exception for someone of your stature, especially given the amount of time we’ve spent together outside of these official meetings.”

Oh fuck, this is really happening. “How scandalous, Mr. Bane,” Alec somehow manages, then Magnus is giggling and kissing him, and yeah, Alec is so on board with this plan. He’s even more on board with the plan when Magnus leads him to the car, and then leads him up the stairs to his loft.

He’s not even annoyed when he wakes up to Simon’s strangely supportive “Congrats on the sex!” text, because there’s a man lying against his chest who he thinks he could easily fall in love with, and literally nothing else matters right now. It’s him and Magnus against the world: everything else can wait.

(Alec replies to Simon with a single middle finger emoji. He likes the kid, but Simon doesn’t need to know that.)

(The Star Wars movie marathon the two of them end up doing a week later kind of gives it away anyway.)

[ridetherain]

Some Zelink parenting to make me feel better. Happy Mother's Day to the mothers.

Superpower

Words: 2094

"Link," Zelda said, "Can you hold the baby for Rhondson? She's agreed to fit me for that cold-weather gear we agreed on."

I gave her a swift nod and cautiously took the sleeping bundle. Rhondson spent a moment adjusting my arms and grip before she gave my head a pat and bustled behind a partition with Zelda.

I let the two women's discussion of what color and cut would be best for our adventures fade to the back of my mind as I wandered around the recently expanded shop. Rhondson had moved on from just Gerudo styles to add some Rito cloth (likely due to Fyson's enterprising) and even a few water-resistant options. None were as good as my Zora armor, but still quality fabric.

Zelda and I have spent the last several years touring Hyrule and stitching the disparate peoples into one community. Zelda steered any discussion of retaking the throne to a more democratic direction and, after we married, I understood her fear and supported democracy wholeheartedly. So instead, we found ourselves working as neutral parties and messengers throughout Hyrule.

The Rito outgrew their village a generation ago but resisted expansion into Hebra while the calamity ruled. Zelda and I were preparing for an extended survey of the mountains for a suitable location to build a new town.

I slowly circled the shop again and gave the baby a gentle bounce when Rhondson and Zelda's conversation turned into an argument.

"Rhondson! I'm going to be out in the wild for weeks! Roughing it! Sleeping in tents! Climbing mountains!"

"Just be careful! If you watch where you step then it shouldn't matter. You're the Princess! I won't have you leave this shop in anything but my best work! Besides, you said your jacket was white Before!"

"Hyrule is a democracy!"

I gave a little cough to remind them that other people exist. Zelda stepped out from behind the partition without a shirt on and glared at me. I smiled and covered the sleeping baby's eyes with one hand.

"Zelda!" I scolded, "Madison will see!"

She stuck her nose in the air and spoke to Rhondson without looking away or moving out of sight.

"Fine. Just do the pink then. Anything but white."

I smirked and tried to cover it by looking down and pretending to be fascinated by Madison's habit of sleeping while I'm holding her. Zelda hated pink. When I chanced a glance back up I saw immediately that I did not trick her and the thoughtful look on her face meant she was already planning her revenge.

---

Her revenge sucked. For me, anyway, I'm sure she enjoyed herself. My beautiful Rito set of winter gear was dyed. The jacket was a horrendous yellow and, predictably, the pants were pink. Every time she caught sight of me she started laughing. Worst of all, she clearly used some of our best ingredients to dye her pink jacket to a nice shade of dark blue so I'm the only one looking ridiculous.

The Rito children all loved my colorful appearance when we returned with our survey results. Kaneli was polite enough not to comment, but pretty much everyone else in the village did and by the time I got to the children I gave up and just let them hang on me and enjoy the mismatched clothes.

Zelda flashed me another smile at the sight of my clothes but stayed out of the fray with Amali.

"Mister Link? I'm tired."

"That's good," I said, "It's pretty late, so you're supposed to be tired."

Cree thought hard about what I said for a minute. Her little face scrunched up and I subtly glanced at my wife. She was glaring again. Cree gave a nod and wandered off to her bed with a sleepy "'night Mister Link" and the rest of the children followed her out. I gave Zelda my full attention.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

I sighed. She'd tell me eventually. Or maybe not. Sometimes she forgot. I suppressed a smile at the thought. She'd been ridiculous lately, but after the stress of this trip is out of her system I was certain she would get back to her usual self.

---

Zelda did eventually get back to her usual self. By the time we got back to Hateno, Zelda was on another project and writing furiously in her journal. For once she wasn't letting me in on the project and didn't think out loud other than complete incomprehensible gibberish. The notebook she was using had lists drawn up of completely random words under number headings with no context.

Whatever she was into this time was pretty big and was taking all her energy. She didn't consult books which probably meant she was working on ancient technology again. That's the only subject she knew better than any book written. Eventually, I decided I needed to say something. She wasn't taking proper care of herself. She was eating well, but she wasn't out walking as much and it showed a little. She would be angry with herself when she pulled out of her project and found herself unable to hike up to the tech lab with me.

"Zel? Want to come up to the pond with me? We can go swimming."

"No, sorry, I'm a little busy today."

"You've been busy a lot lately. What have you been working on?"

Zelda looked nervous when she flipped the pages back and turned them to face me. I looked curiously at the lists she's been working on.

"One... Significant people... Sleep... Sitting... What is this?"

"Developmental milestones."

I still didn't understand. She grimaced and pushed her hair back from where it had fallen in front of her eyes. It revealed the dark circles from lack of sleep.

"For children."

"Oh..." I looked at the list again, "Did Amali ask for help? Is something wrong with one of the girls?"

"No, it's not for her... It's for us."

I was going through each girl one at a time and considering the items on the list. None of them stuck out to me.

"I wanted a clear timeline. Amali said there wasn't a book on how to raise a child, but I'm so worried about forgetting something so I figured I would write everything I could think of down and ask as many people as possible."

It took a minute for her words to filter into my head. I decided that Kheel was a little behind her sisters, but that was fine because she was the youngest. And Madison was too little still for most everything on the list. My muscles seized up and my breath started coming quicker. I spent one terrifying moment tense without knowing why I was so afraid.

"For... us..."

The room was tilting. This must be what Zelda means when she says she doesn't like being on the Sheikah towers.

"Yes, Link. Who else would I do this for?"

Okay. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Zelda was still talking. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Make sure you understand.

"You're pregnant." I said, confirming.

"Yes."

"With a baby."

She scrunched her nose at me.

"Yes with a baby. What else would I be pregnant with?"

I finally looked up into her eyes and her whole face softened at me.

"Oh, Link, don't panic. Yes, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a little baby here next spring. You're going to be a wonderful father."

My heart stuttered in its rhythm at the word "father." My hyperventilating stopped. My breathing stopped. Something wet hit my cheeks and I realized I was crying. I looked through blurry eyes at Zelda and saw her smiling back at me.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just panicked. And I thought you'd stop our Hebra survey early if you knew."

The happiness I had started to recognize was immediately shoved out of the way for my terror.

"You were pregnant!" I fairly screeched in her face. I opened my mouth to shout at her some more, but nothing came out. I didn't have words that matched my fear so I closed my mouth and stared at her with wide eyes. The hyperventilating was back.

---

I was unbearable. I know I was because Zelda told me so repeatedly. I was mostly fine until it became obvious that she was pregnant. Something about the visual of a bump made the child more real than her words ever could.

We visited Kakariko, but I refused to take her further afield than that. Madison was almost a year old now and we hadn't seen her since before I knew of Zelda's pregnancy. Rhondson sent letters and I know Zelda wanted opinions from another woman who had recently given birth, but it was too far and too dangerous. I flat-out refused to let her teleport with the Slate. She was so angry with me that she kicked me out of the house and I had to spend the night at our cookpot. I told her I took a room at the inn. When I tried to convince her to let me move the bed downstairs she finally put her foot down and I was left to grumble.

She's due in a couple weeks and I've timed myself at running to the midwife. It takes seven minutes for me to get there and it will probably be more to bring her back.

Zelda had her feet up in front of the fire since the winter chill hadn't quite left Hateno yet despite the start of spring. Her hand was rubbing gentle circles into her stomach.

"Link, I need your superpowers."

I smiled at our little joke. My skill at putting children to sleep extended to settling an unborn child's kicking. I sat on the floor next to her and leaned my head cautiously against her just in case the baby decided to kick me in the face. Again.

"Come on, kid. Your mom needs some rest." I took over the circling with my hand and hummed the lullaby Zelda taught me.

Zelda sucked in a sharp breath. I hummed a little louder and used my free hand to take hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Link?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't panic..."

I immediately tensed at the words and looked up at her. Her eyes were tense and a grimace was frozen on her face.

"I need you to go get the midwife."

"You're not due yet," I said stupidly, "we have another two weeks."

Zelda gasped again. I shot to my feet and hovered over her.

"Okay, okay," I said, "Just... Stay here... I'll... Okay..."

I rushed to the door and wrenched it open. Seven minutes plus however much time it takes to get back. I glance back at Zelda. It goes against the grain to leave her in pain. Maybe this is why the other Hero's didn't marry their Zelda.

---

Purah heard my headlong flight through town for the midwife and came down to visit after a few hours. The midwife roped her into helping with the birth and kicked me out of the house. I ended up waiting at the cookpot again while Symin filled the silence.

I shook like a leaf at the sound of Zelda's shouts and gasps. The wooden door only muffled so much. But the moment my child cried nothing could keep me out. I slammed the door open and rushed to the midwife. The woman had no patience for my "hysteria." She made me wait while the baby was cleaned and swaddled.

Zelda was exhausted. She was damp with sweat and weak. I held her hand and pushed her wet hair from her face. I could only glance at her occasionally. My attention was caught by the screaming child at our kitchen table. My child. Our child. The midwife brought the bundle of cloth to us and placed it in Zelda's arms. I helped her keep ahold of the baby - her arms were about ready to give out. The child barely paused for breath between cries.

"Link?" Zelda said, "I need your superpowers."

My hands shook as I arranged my arms as Rhondson had taught me and Zelda carefully passed the bundle to me. I hummed the tune I had been using for months and my superpower held. The cries lessened, but wide blue eyes blinked at me instead of closing in sleep. After so much time worried about pregnant Zelda that I didn't think to worry about my child. I was going to be unbearable.

A daughter.

[frostsinth]

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 8

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7  - MasterList - 

 Guys...Guys I hate to spring this on you, usually I give you a heads up... but this is the last part. It just seemed right, the way the story flowed here. I am going to do a little epilogue, but otherwise this is where their story ends for now.

I hope you have enjoyed the slow, awkward, and bumpy ride. It has been a pleasure writing these two, and I’m going to miss them.

If you like this story, check out my others on my MasterList above. While you’re there, feel free to BuyMeACoffee. As always, comments and notes give me life. Shoot me a DM or an ask if you have any thoughts or questions, I love hearing from you all!

It was nearly midday by the time he made his way over towards the butcher shop. The big orc lumbered slowly, frustration lingering in the corners of his deep scowl. He couldn’t believe the woman had managed to slip through his grasp again! But he shook his head, removing the ax from his belt and leaning it in its usual hiding place in the crevice between the two buildings. He would catch up to her eventually. With his resources, it was only a matter of time. The last of those thoughts fell away as the wall of the yard finally came into sight, replaced with a sudden eagerness.

Hanste’kosh didn’t intend to bother with the gate; it was likely latched from the other side anyway. Or more, he hoped it was. As he moved to walk around the perimeter, as he always did, he couldn’t help reaching out to test it with a good yank. It stuck firmly in place, and he nodded in satisfaction. Though the low walls were hardly fortified. Perhaps he would get the boys to bring some mortar and stones. Build them up higher. Keep the place more secure.

The big orc chewed this over as he made his way around to the front. Bar’tok had been right. The place needed more security. And if the presence of the blacksmith’s boy the morning before yesterday was any evidence, just about anyone could get into the place.

He was surprised to find the shop door slightly ajar. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he gritted his teeth. He was being paranoid, he chided himself. Likely it was due to the cooler weather of the day; she was simply letting some air in.

With a grunt, he shouldered the door open the rest of the way, hunching up to slip through the tiny frame. His arms scraped the sides, but he was used to it, and rolled his shoulders back as soon as he was in the shop proper.

She wasn’t there. A quick glance around the small shop front confirmed the room was indeed empty. And oddly still; as if he had entered a crypt rather than a shop. Again, the tickle of hairs at the back of his neck set him on edge. But it wouldn’t be the first time he had come to find her in the back, he reminded himself. He nodded resolutely, glancing around once more and moving to the door to the yard.

Another scrunch and duck, and he was out in the open under the growing midday sun again. Slate blue eyes studied the yard. But it too was empty. Now his back grew stiffer, and his jaw tightened. He turned around in place, just to be sure. No fires burning. No meat cooking, no carcasses hanging. And everything looked as when he had last seen it. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach.

The house then. He made his way over, and his palms grew hot at the sight of the open door. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he would swear that was exactly how he had left it the other day. A muffled growl bubbled in his chest, and he knocked lightly on the frame. Popping his head in, his ears rang with the stillness. Empty.

Jerking back, he spun, glaring about with his brow heavily knotted. He gritted his teeth, and found his heart was racing in his chest. All his experience, all his level headed seasoning over the years, shot out of him like a bolt of lightning. Instead, an unfamiliar panic began to set in.

“Madara?” He called, his deep voice thinned by his emotions. It occurred to him he had never said her name out loud before. The sudden realization that he may never say it again hit him like a brick. “...Maddie?” He quickly said it again in denial of that thought.

There was no answer. He felt a foreign numbness wash over his body, dragging him down. He staggered, reaching out to place one hand on the wall of the house. His mind jolted, his blood rushed in his ears. The orc blinked stupidly a few times, and his hopes fell like an anchor tossed off a cliff face. Unable to deny the evidence piling before him.

She wasn’t here. She had abandoned the place. Probably gathered what she had been saving to buy the tavern over the past few days and run… from him. He had finally scared her off. Been too bold, too forward. Had pushed her too fast. Promising her palaces and treasures! It must have sounded crazy… But no crazier than her convincing him that he made her happy. That she wanted him and nothing else. It stung like a fresh burn, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. As if that could ever be true... 

Or, alternatively, perhaps he had waited too long… Perhaps she had realized she didn’t want to have a lover she only saw once a fortnight. Was tired of his secrets and his silence. Maybe she had realized who he was. What he did whenever he left her side. What life he led out of her sight.

The big orc gave an angry growl. He shoved the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a barrel. Watching it rock and fall to its side hardly appeased him, and his eyes flashed with fire. He grabbed it, easily hoisting it over his head and tossing it across the yard. The sound of it shattering echoed in the emptiness. He grabbed another, tossing it with a roar. Then upturned the trough. The water splashed about his boots before seeping across the ground. Next went the old cauldron, clattering and spinning across the yard with its contents pouring out like a trail of blood behind it. His big fist caused the wall of the house to shudder as it connected, and he growled and punched it again. And again. Until a crack formed in the mortar and the rafters groaned and rattled.

Hanste’kosh shuddered, suddenly finding his legs weak beneath him. Slowly, he let himself sink to the ground, bending his knees and propping his elbows on them. Leaning his back against the wall and dropping his chin to his chest. What a fool he had been! To let himself get so caught up in a trivial crush for a human. It bit sharp teeth into his heart to think of her; to think that after their night together maybe she had realized that he was, after all, an orc. And she a human. She was scared of him, that must be it. His sudden anger only proved that she was justified to be so, and he felt a throbbing guilt clutching his heart. For being too big. For being too gruff. For being rude, and brutish, and…

The sound of snorting and squealing hardly registered to him, sitting forlornly in the empty yard. The thundering of cloven hooves, the shouts. None of it mattered. He stared at the ground by his feet, numb to the world.

“Boss!” Came the shout again, closer this time.

Hanste’kosh tilted his head back slowly, looking up at his second. Bar’tok’s went wide as their eyes met, staring at him in shock. Usually, this disrespect would warrant a glare, or have his familiar heavy scowl set into place. Would have him growling in a way that made the smaller orc’s knees knock together. But now… he just looked...

“...Hey, Boss… are-are you ok?” He panted quietly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The large orc gave a soft grunt, looking past his second dully. He could hear the hog squealing and snorting on the other side of the crumbling wall Bar’tok had easily scaled. Usually they didn’t bring the boars into the village. Too much attention. But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered.

Bar’tok looked around, taking that moment to catch his breath. The silence that rang in his ears, despite his boisterous entrance, and that as well as the look on Hanste’kosh’s face had him drawing a quick conclusion. Not to mention the scene of destruction in the yard; broken barrels, upturned trough, burnt stew and dented pot. 

“Is she-” 

He drew in a sharp breath at the dark glower shot back at him in warning. He cleared his throat, disappointment sinking into his chest. One hand reached up, rubbing at his green neck dejectedly. But he shook himself, remembering why he was there. 

“... We’ve gotten word. We know where the Red Wren is now.”

Another grunt, louder this time. His thick brow was beginning to knot up into its familiar angry glower again. But it seemed more hollow. Less the battle scarred fearless warrior Bar’tok had come to know. More like a hollowed survivor, tired of fighting and looking forward to meeting his end on the field. The sight made him shift nervously. The larger orc straightened his big head, thick locks heavy around his shoulders. Slowly, he stood, growling quietly. Despite his old scowl returning, the life seemed drained out of him as he stomped back to the shorter wall.

Bar’tok lifted his hand, thinking to say something. But he couldn’t quite imagine what. Eyes darted about, considering the abandoned yard. A frown tickled at his face. It seemed strange to him. She had been so besotted! Had they gotten into a fight before the Boss had left last time? Had he threatened her, or scared her? It wasn’t out of his nature for his line of work, but even with the little he had seen, he could tell the older orc was a different person around her. Though honestly, he was surprised she had lasted as long as she had at all. Hanste’kosh was an absolutely terrifying presence on his quieter days! The younger orc couldn’t imagine he made good company for a tiny little human.

It had been nice, though. Seeing his Boss so happy. Not that anyone would know it to look at him; but Bar’tok had been working with him for a long time. He knew his quirks. Knew each grunt and scowl and twitch. He had seen the vigor she had brought to him. A previously overzealous workhorse had been replaced by an overgrown pup suddenly eager to finish the job so he could leave to spend time with her. And now…

He sighed heavily, a frown still set deeply into the corners of his mouth. It didn’t seem right. She had been too pure! Too good! Why would she just up and run all of a sudden? Had she said anything? Left a note? He had to imagine she would. She didn’t seem the type to just leave things hanging. Shaking his head, he followed after his boss. Not much to do for it now, right? There would be no talking to Hanste’kosh in a mood like this. The big orc looked like he was moving on instinct rather than conscious thought. Trying to stand in his way would mean being mowed over in his wake.

Both orcs scaled the wall easily, leaping over and landing heavily on the other side. Startling the crap out of a slender boy heading towards the shop entrance. He jumped with a yelp, but quickly straightened. Bar’tok would have ignored him entirely, save for the curious glance he shot Hanste’kosh. As if he had seen him before.

“H-hey!” The teenager stammered, “Y-you’re that orc-” The growl shot his way had the boy squeaking and shrinking back again. Bar’tok almost smirked in amusement. But the teenager fixed his jaw and squared his thin little shoulders. “H-have you seen Madara?”

Hanste’kosh may have winced at the name, but turned his back on the boy with an angry snarl to hide it if he did. Bar’tok shot the human a look that warned him into silence, giving a small shrug almost apologetically. He turned back to his Boss.

“An old sailor caught sight of a red-haired woman with a scar on the side of her nose down by the docks.” He explained, trying to distract the larger orc. “Yesterday evening, at the latest.”

“That sounds like the lady that was here!” Piped up the tiny human.

The adrk green-grey blur shot past Bar’tok before he had a chance to react, leaving the smaller orc dazed in his wake. Hanste’kosh had the human teenager by the scruff of his shirt and hoisted high into the air before the yelp had even finished petering from his mouth.

“What did you say??!” Demanded the huge orc, his voice a reverberating growl that echoed like thunder around them.

The boy put up his hands, quaking in absolute terror. “I-I.. I-I” He was stammering so much he couldn’t seem to find the words.

Bar’tok stepped over, sliding into the boy’s line of sight. “You saw someone like that here?” He pressed, trying to sound encouraging. His mission was not helped as Hanste’kosh shook the teenager like a ragdoll.

His feet kicked uselessly above the ground. “The day before last!” He squeaked, “S-she was looking for the person who cooked the roast pig she had sampled! I-I saw her go into the shop….” His eyes managed to go even wider as a sudden realization seemed to hit him. “I… I haven’t seen Madara since…”

Hanste’kosh dropped the boy, who fell in a heap on the ground with a shout and a whimper. The big orc was at the war hog’s side in two strides, moving faster than anyone would have ever thought a creature of his size could be capable of moving. Bar’tok’s mouth was still half open to speak as the larger orc had settled himself in his mount’s saddle.

“Which docks?!” He snarled at his second, eyes feral.

….

“Wakey wakey, love!” Came a sing-song voice.

I groaned, my head pounding. I moved to reach up one hand to cradle it, but found they would not obey my will. I struggled to comprehend the wash of sounds that hit me, the strange air filling my lungs. My throat felt dry and my eyes struggled to open. My head throbbed and pounded from a focused point at the back of my skull and radiating out.

“Here she comes! Atta girl.”

That voice again. I knew that voice. It brought to mind the memory of flashing red hair and the hint of a point to a pair of pale ears. In my shop, I remembered. The sing-song tone asking me questions. The same unease that had curled around the base of my spine then returned, and I fought the blinding light that edged my vision.

I came to slowly, rolling my head back and looking about. I was in a room, a large room, filled with crates and barrels and various other shipping containers. The rafters were so far overhead I couldn’t make them out, but shafts of sunlight caught drifting dust motes among the beams. Ropes and large canvasses were draped about, and the distant chatter of voices and boots on wood echoed around me. I blinked a few times, drawing in a steadying breath. It brought with it a briney scent. I frowned. I had never smelt anything quite like it! Almost like fish, but saltier, and wet.

Feral green eyes waited for me when my vision cleared, along with a sharp smirk on pristine white teeth. I took in the woman with flaming red hair before me, and stiffened sharply. It was then I realized my hands and ankles were bound to the hair I sat in. I swallowed the dryness in my throat, fear settling its claws into my chest.

“Well, well,” She purred, straightening with her hands tucked into the small of her back, “I must have hit you harder than I thought, though I’m sure the drugs were also an overkill. You were out for almost two whole days!”

I twisted my wrists in the binds experimentally, gritting my teeth. “Who are you? What do you want?”

She laughed, slowly pacing around me. “Consider me an old colleague of a dear friend of yours.” She stopped at my shoulder, bending low to speak straight into my ear. “Absolutely astounding job on the pig, by the way! As far as last meals go, it was quite the hit.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice was high with my fear, and I wriggled against the bindings again. “Why am I here?”

She continued her circle, chuckling again. “Oh, you’re here to ensure my safety, sweet girl.” Now standing back before me, she put her hands on her hips. “I seem to have found myself on your mate’s bad side.” She reached out and tweaked my nose sharply. “And you’re going to help me off.”

“My mate?” I echoed, dumbstruck.

Again, her laugh rang out. “My, but aren’t you the pretty, ignorant little duckling. Do you have any idea who you invited into your bed?” Her grin grew malicious, “Or do you just go crazy for any big orc who will have you?”

It suddenly clicked in my head whom she meant, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine. She smiled, seeing the realization creeping into my face. She glanced over her shoulder at the guard posted by the door, then turned back to me.

“A dangerous creature, that lover of yours. Tell me,” She crouched down to be face to face, “Does the beastie have a heart? Or just a really good cock?”

My face burned hot, and my mouth opened in surprise. She gave another vicious laugh. She straightened, turned and strode back towards the door. I wriggled again, then tried my ankles next, tugging and rolling them. I even craned my head to look as far over my shoulder as I could, as if perhaps there was some opportunity to escape just out of my sight. 

The woman nodded to the guard, finishing whatever she had been saying, and turned back to return to my side. 

“I hope you’re valuable to him. Or you’re really no good to me at all.” She kicked my chair lightly. “Just dead weight.” I glared up at her as angrily as I could manage despite my racing pulse in my ears. She merely smirked again. “You think he’s missing you by now? Don’t fret, I won’t keep him worrying long. I’ve just sent word to let him know you are safe and sound with me.” She tapped the point of my nose with one finger, and I shook my head in frustration. “No reason for this to get messy, don’t you agree?”

She jerked up quickly as a loud commotion suddenly filled the air. The sound of shouting, and splintering wood. Crashing bodies and breaking glass. The clang of metal against metal and shrieks of pain. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. A blade appeared in her hand so fast, I didn’t even see her move. With a swift slice, she freed my wrists and ankles and yanked me to my feet.

Just in time, it seemed. The massive doors of the old building seemed like they exploded before us, with a huge boom that sent splinters flying. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the cloud of dust that flew in our faces. I felt her arm wrap about my shoulders, felt her tug me closer. The sharp edge of the blade was pressed to my throat.

I blinked, gasping as the dust began to settle and a huge, familiar frame filled the new hole in the wall. I almost melted with relief at the sight.

“Hans!” I shouted.

His responding snarl was more vicious than I had ever heard it and made my breath catch in my throat. So loud the rafters shook over us. Slate blue eyes fixed with a burning ferocity at the woman behind me. Her arm tightened around my body, and she jerked us both back a step. Brandishing her knife so that it’s sharp edge caught a glimmer of light. I reached up, tugging at her arm weakly with both my hands. My movements still sluggish and clumsy.

“Hans?” Echoed the woman, then laughed boldly, “My, but that is so sweet. Ah!” She exclaimed as he took an aggravated stride forward, “Not another step. I assume you want your precious little butcher girl back in one piece, yes?” I could feel her hot breath in my ear, “She’s not the only one who knows how to cook a pig.” Hans froze, and his big eyes narrowed. “Quite clever, by the way. I must commend you. Sending such a delicious roast to my barracks laced with belladonna. Must have been like lambs to a slaughter for you.”

“It’s over, Wren,” Growled Bar’tok, appearing from the settling dust to stand at Hans’ shoulder with a big ax brandished, “The warehouse is surrounded. There’s no way you leave here in one piece.”

She chuckled behind me, but I could feel her nervousness as her arm gripped me a little tighter. “No, I don’t think that’s quite true. See, you’re gonna let me walk right out of here. That is, if you ever want to see your little friend here again.” She pulled me back as she moved a step. The orcs matched her, and she pressed her knife against me hard enough to make me gasp. “Don’t test me! Call off your man, Hanste’kosh Blackheart. This is between you and me. Well, you, me, and your sweet little human plaything here.”

Hans raised his hand, signalling Bar’tok to stand down. The smaller orc growled softly, but did as he was told. Lowering his big double sided ax slightly. I heard the stamping march of boots from the outside, and more growls and grunts. Wren twitched behind me. I wriggled in her grasp, but she jerked me off balance, still keeping the blade pressed to my throat.

I had never seen Hans like this. His face was contorted into a feral rage, so foreign to me it made his features seem twisted and dark. His tusks looked larger than I remembered them, and his hair fell about him like a wild mane. He looked like a wild animal. I barely recognized him; his huge, muscular arms flexing, a trail of spittle forming in the corners of his mouth. I glanced at Bar’tok, who looked equally outraged, then back to Hans. My mind raced and my breath was shallow. I swallowed hard, feeling the knife press deeper into my flesh and making me wince. Somehow, Hans’ face managed to become more twisted at the sight.

“...You’re going to let me get on that ship,” The woman was saying, and I blinked, realizing she had been talking for a while now, “You’re going to let me sail away. And then you’re going to forget about me.” 

She was dragging me now, and my feet slid on the damp floors as I tried to keep them under me. I struggled against her again, and felt the blade knick my skin as she tightened her grip. I heard Hans’ growl as I gasped at the slight stinging pain that came along with it. Felt a single pearl of blood drip down my neck.

“You’re going to regret that…” He snarled, his voice a deep, booming thunder in the old building.

“Get back!” She shouted at them, but her voice shook a little. “Let me pass! NOW!”

The orcs exchanged a quick look, but then reluctantly did as they were told, slowly stepping to the side. Creating a passage between them. Neither seemed pleased about it, their fists wringing, their snarling visages deepening. But slowly, she advanced, her gaze darting back and forth between the two. Daring them to try something. Hans’ growled again, a deep, monstrous sound that sent a shiver down my own spine.

I felt her wince behind me, and heard her swallow loudly. Her hand on the knife loosened, I could feel the pressure lightening. I glanced at Bar’tok, then at Hans, whose eyes seemed fixed on the blade at my throat. We were nearly to them now, edging towards the one exit I could see. I waited, my breath trapped in my lungs, my heart like a drum thrumming in my ears. My hands shook, but I watched the gap between us slowly shrink with each tiny step forward that she dragged me.

She shifted, her stance not as tight. She was distracted, maybe by a loud sound. Maybe in the process of switching her wary gaze from one orc to the other. But I felt my opportunity. And I took it.

In a flash, I grabbed my own balled fist and slammed my opposite elbow back with as much force as I could muster. She cried out, buckling over in surprise and pain. Her knife hand going wide, her arm loosening. I twisted free, doubled over, and then I ran. I ran as fast as I could, sprinting. Straight to Hans.

I slammed into his chest at full speed, and felt the wind knock from my lungs. He didn’t even flinch from the force of my charge. My mouth gaped uselessly, but I felt his arm drop down. Encasing me. Lifting me and spinning with me. I could hardly process our movement as he spirited me away. The last thing I heard was a deafening scream.

By the time the air had returned to my lungs, the sounds of the warehouse had faded behind us. I tried to turn my head, but was buried so deeply in his rough armor that I could barely breathe let alone move. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that whatever was happening, Hans would know what to do.

I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, but eventually, I felt my feet slowly being lowered back to the ground. Felt the corded, muscular arm around me slowly loosen, and I leaned back carefully. Craning my head back to look for his face.

Gone was the snarling visage and feral beast. Gone was the dark shadows and angry glower. His big blue eyes were soft and searching, his thick hair a black frame around his square features. His jaw was slack and his tusks seemed less pronounced than minutes before. The familiar face I dreamed about each night.

My Hans. My big, gentle Hans. I let out my breath in a rush.

His big hand came up, hesitantly running his fingertips over my jaw. I saw his gaze flicker down to my throat, and his thumb moved to trace the thin cut there. A soft growl reverberated in his chest. I brought my own hand to cup his, and realized I was smiling. Despite it all. Despite the fear pounding my chest still and the fact that my knees quivered beneath my skirts. Just seeing him again was enough to make me smile.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, my voice breathy and thin.

He growled softly again, and his big lip seemed to quiver slightly. I curled my fingers around his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. There was a snort behind him, and I managed to glance around him to see a large red boar saddled and waiting. Its big nose twitched, and it snuffed at my scent. I heard the caw of birds, and looked up to see white gulls circling overhead. Now that my pulse was calming, I could hear not the rush of blood in my ears, but the crash of water. I took in another deep breath of the salty air.

Some cleared their throat quietly behind me, and I jumped a little. Hans’ face hardened slightly as I turned to see Bar’tok standing there. He rubbed at the back of his neck, shuffling his feet and spinning his big ax in his free hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, Boss,” He began, and cleared his throat again, “But the... clean up crew is here.”

I felt his hand clench around my fingers, and turned back to see him stiffening. He looked down at me, then back over towards the warehouse a few yards away. I could see various men, mostly orcs, milling about. They seemed to be searching for something, and clearing crates and debris.

“Go.” I told him, squeezing his hand again. “I’ll wait here.”

His slate blues came back to me, and I saw his face soften again. He reached up our clasped hands, running his thumb along the tip of my chin gently. But he nodded, slight scowl returning as he turned to address Bar’tok.

“Stay with her.” He ordered the smaller orc, who nodded respectfully.

Hans gave my fingers one last gentle squeeze, then reluctantly released them to turn and head back to the warehouse. Bar’tok stepped aside as the hulking orc stormed past him. When the smaller orc turned back to me, he offered me a sheepish grin, hoisting his ax up to rest over his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, ma’am.”

I almost laughed, but offered him a shy smile instead. “Glad to see you too, Bar’tok.” I glanced back over at the boar, shifting my weight. “I definitely owe you a huge breakfast now.”

He did laugh, and moved over to slap the boar on the side. The beast gave a hearty grunt, and I wandered over to it curiously. I had never seen one up close before. It was huge! Its head alone was nearly the size of my whole body. I reached out one hand towards it, offering it my palm to sniff.

“I’ll take you up on that sometime, ma’am.” He replied, half leaning against the beast as it gently wuffed at my hand.

As it seemed content, I reached up and ran my hand over its big face. The hairs were coarse and thin everywhere except for where it ran down the spine at its neck, and underneath its fur the thick hide of the pig was almost scaly. It seemed to enjoy my attention, snorting and jerking its head up into my hand.

“You are most welcome anytime you’d like,” I told him, and let out a shaky sigh, “Any meal, anything you want. It’s on the house.”

“... You alright ma’am?” He asked, and when I glanced at him, he smiled kindly.

I returned the smile, looking back at the boar as I ran my nails over its forehead. It snorted happily. “... I-I… I’m not sure…” The back of my neck itched, longing to turn to let me look back at the scene behind me. “I don’t know what to think right now…”

Bar’tok considered me quietly, wringing his hand along the handle of his ax. I scratched the boar’s head, still quivering a little, my heart skipping every few beats. I couldn’t help but recall what the lady had said, about Hans. About who he was. And something about roast pig. My roast pig, I had to assume. I swallowed nervously, trying to piece it all together. Not entirely sure I wanted to. What had she called him? Blackheart? That wasn’t an orcish name. That sounded like the kind of name one was given… The kind earned by reputation…

“You really don’t know who he is, do you?” Bar’tok asked, and I started slightly out of my contemplations at the sound of his voice, “You have never heard of him before?”

I stiffened, my hands slowing. Quietly, I shook my head. When I finally managed to look up at the orc, my eyes held the question my lips couldn’t seem to form. Did I want to know? Did I need to?

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Look, it’s not my place really,” He grumbled, staring down at his feet, “But… For what it’s worth… The Boss is absolutely crazy about you. When he went to your place, and saw you missing? I thought he might burn the whole village to the ground.” I winced, and he quickly added, “Metaphorically speaking, of course… mostly.”

I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. I ran one hand up the snout of the beast before me. Tracing my fingers as far up as I could reach. It brought its head lower so I could scratch by its ears.

“Part of me thinks that maybe he’s happy you don’t know…” Bar’tok continued after a few moments, “Because you like him for who he really is… And you do like him, right?”

I couldn’t help the smile that split my lips, and instantly felt my cheeks warm afterwards. I glanced up at the orc through my lashes, and saw a tiny smile at the corners of his own mouth. He let out a hefty sigh, patting the side of the boar and adjusting his grip on the ax.

“Just… be gentle with him, yeah? I know it sounds stupid, but…”

We were interrupted by the heavy stomp of boots, and turned to see Hans making his way back over. He squared his broad shoulders, shooting Bar’tok a dark, suspicious look. The smaller orc cleared his throat and straightened quickly. When his eyes fell on me though, everything softened and his face seemed to brighten. I dropped my gaze shyly, but couldn’t ignore the pitter-patter of my heart in my chest.

Hans jerked his head over his shoulder at Bar’tok, moving over to the boar’s side. The smaller orc quickly shuffled out of the way, nodding his understanding. He glanced at me as he passed, hesitating a step.

“Get home safe, ma’am,” He told me, “I hope to see you again real soon.”

I gave him a polite smile, tilting my head. “Join us for that meal I owe you sometime.” He grinned his large, goofy grin, and returned another nod. “... And Bar’tok?” I called as he started to turn away. He glanced back at me, and I fumbled with the words for a moment. “... Thank you.”

I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder briefly, and could only imagine the expression that he saw there. His face paled slightly, but he managed a slight smile, and a final nod. I turned back to Hans as he spun back towards the warehouse. Hans glanced after him, then settled his big blue eyes on me. After a moment’s hesitation, he gestured to the hog, and I slowly moved over to him.

I couldn’t even reach the top of the boar’s back, but as soon as I stood at his side Hans wrapped his big hands around my waist and hoisted me up. Settling me into the front of the saddle just behind the horn. I clutched it nervously as the big orc vaulted up behind me. His huge arms encircled me, and he took up a chunk of the beast’s thick mane in his hands. With just his thighs, Hans turned the boar and spurred it forward. It gave an eager squeal, and we were off.

The heat of Hans behind me felt like a dream. As if none of this had happened at all, and I was still at home safe in my new bed. Despite the lurching gate of the hog beneath me, I closed my eyes and leaned back against Hans’ chest. I felt him adjust to my shape after a moment, and one hand came free from the thick mane to wrap lightly around me. Cradling me in place. I rested my cheek against his warm bicep, placed my own arm over his. Hugging it to me. My head still throbbed a little, and the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky. We didn’t speak, though I couldn’t even begin to imagine what to say. The craziness of the day overwhelmed me, and I felt myself sinking into a restless daze.

The next thing I remembered was the sensation of his arms scooping me up. My eyes fluttered back open, and I looked around. The salty smell in the air was gone, as was the cawing of gulls. It was very late, but I recognized the silhouette of my house in the dark, and nearly sighed with relief. I started to wriggle, to try and slip my feet back down to the ground. The deep rumble of his growl vibrated against my ear, and he tightened his grip gently. I relented without complaint, and let him carry me all the way to the tiny doorframe. He scrunched up and bent in half to fit us both through, but managed, and walked quietly over to the big bed.

Gingerly, he laid me down in it. I looked up at him, but he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. His hands reluctantly retracted, leaving me to shiver slightly at the sudden loss of their heat. I sat up slowly, pulling my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them.

“You’re safe now,” He said quietly, his deep voice like the distant rumble of a storm, “Sleep.”

“...Where are you going?” I asked, equally quiet.

He hesitated, and I heard him give a soft grunt. Saw him shift his weight and rub at the back of his neck with one big hand. I was certain if there had been more light, I would have seen the flush rising to his face. I swallowed nervously, and felt the heat creeping up to my own cheeks.

“... You’re staying?”

I thought I saw him wince, and he glanced over his shoulder. “... To keep watch.”

As he started to move away, I rolled to my knees and caught his arm lightly. He froze at my touch, and I dropped my hand shyly. Wringing my hands together in front of me.

“... Can you stay with me? ... H-here in bed?”

He seemed surprised, and I felt him hesitate again. I sat back on my ankles, rubbing at my arm with one hand. Waiting. After a long moment, he turned, heading over to the door. At first, my heart sank, disappointment spreading numbly through me. But then his big hand slowly pushed the door closed and slid the latch into place with a thunk. I saw his head turn, glancing over at me, hesitating. Then I heard the soft click of his buckles coming undone.

He stacked his armor on the table, then carefully took off his boots and stockings. His bare feet made hardly a whisper of sound as he quietly stalked over to the bed. Again, he paused, looking down at me. I scooched over, making space for him. After another moment of considering me, he slowly eased himself onto the mattress. Laying on his side, so we were face to face.

I searched for his eyes in the dark, barely able to make them out. I wondered if he could see me better; the darkness had never seemed to bother him much. It seemed like he was watching me. I smiled timidly, in case he was. I could feel his heat, and longed to roll closer. But feared scaring him off.

He shifted quietly, and I saw the shadow of his big hand move. Felt the backs of his fingers ever so hesitantly brush against the side of my face. I reached up my own hand, catching his as it passed. Bringing it to press more firmly against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, and I felt him slowly relax. Felt his hand turn until his palm cupped my face delicately. I closed my eyes, sighing softly.

“... I thought I’d lost you,” He confided in me, his deep voice almost thin with his words.

I opened my eyes again. He ran his thumb over my cheekbone, his fingers tracing back and forth along my jaw. I turned into his hand, brushing my lips lightly against his palm. Uncertain what to say but hoping the sentiment was clear enough. I felt his hand tighten slightly against me, and turned to plant another kiss on his big, meaty palm. I smiled shyly up at him through my lashes. His brow was scrunched, and I thought I saw his thick lips twitch.

“... She should never have found you. I should never have left you alone.”

I ran my thumb back and forth over his knuckles, not saying anything for a moment. I nuzzled my nose against his wrist, breathing in his musky scent. Relishing the thought that my bed would be thick with it after tonight. I was surprised to be thinking about such a thing. After everything that had happened today. But the feeling of his touch still sent me reeling. The sight of him had my heart racing. It made everything else seem so trivial.

“It doesn’t matter.” I murmured softly. And it didn’t.

He growled softly, and rolled closer. “It does matter. I should have kept you safe.”

I shook my head. “You’re here now.” I pressed my cheek deeper into his palm. “I’m safe with you.”

He grumbled, and I felt it rumbling through the mattress and air between us. I scooched closer myself, until my knees scraped against him. His free hand slowly came out, and I felt his fingertips smooth lightly over my hip. I rolled even closer, trying to encourage him. Longing for his touch, his warmth. To bury myself back against his chest. After a moment, he rested his big hand on my side, and I let my eyes close again, running my own hand across the bridge his arm made between us. Gently, he flexed his big muscles, and slid me closer.

“... I keep thinking I will scare you off.” He breathed, hardly above a whisper. His mouth was so close to me, he didn’t need to speak loudly to be heard.

I smiled again, kissing his wrist. “I keep thinking the same thing about you.”

He snorted, half in disbelief, half in amusement, and it made my grin grow by a few inches. His thumb rolled up and down my hip. I heard him shift, felt the bed creak. I didn’t jump as his lips brushed my forehead. I thought back over the day. Over everything that had happened, and everything I had learned. About his name. His reputation. What was it the red haired woman had said? ... A dangerous creature, that lover of yours... Was he really such a scary person to the rest of the world that he couldn’t believe I wouldn’t be scared as well? I remembered the way he had looked, when he had first barged into that warehouse. He had been terrifying… It hadn’t even seemed like him. Tell me, does the beastie have a heart?

I opened my eyes, looking at him. Studying the soft way his thick lips curled, the relaxed shape of his pronounced brow and thick eyebrows. The gentle depths of his deep blue eyes. This was Hans. Not that other orc everyone seemed to be scared of. Whatever else he was, this was how I knew him. This was who he was to me. Big. Soft. Kind and thoughtful. Tender and passionate. Does the beastie have a heart? How was that even a question? How could anyone who saw what I saw not simply know? Bar’tok’s words filtered to my consciousness next. For what it’s worth… The Boss is absolutely crazy about you. I traced my hand up his arm, over his shoulder. Cupping my tiny palm against his cheek. I felt my eyes glance down to his lips, before darting back up to meet his gaze. Be gentle with him…

He leaned down to meet me halfway as I stretched up to kiss him, curling his arm into the small of my back. Folding me against him tenderly. His mouth was hot against mine, but he was careful and delicate as he traced my lips with his. I melted into him, my heart fluttering in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. This was my Hans.

When we finally broke the kiss, we lay close, our noses almost touching. Breathing in the air the other breathed out. I studied him, watching those big blue eyes as they watched me. I ran my hand along the scruff on his jaw and buried it into the thick mane of hair at the base of his neck.

“... You won’t scare me away.” I murmured.

The soft rumbling chuff vibrated against me, and I smiled again. He titled his head, resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, giving a final, deep sigh. Letting the exhaustion of the day finally drag me down.

...

“It’s for the best, Boss…”

The familiar voice filtered through my sleep, and I rolled to my other side. I heard the rumbling grunt in answer, and felt the smile forming on my lips at the sound. I yawned, blinking blearily and shifting again. I reached out, but it was only me laying amid the mass of blankets and furs. I sat up slowly with another yawn, rubbing at my eyes. My headache and soreness had lessened, and I felt clearer headed as I stretched out my arms.

“I think you’re right, she needs to hear it. For her own safety.”

Bar’tok, I realized, and frowned at his words. A deep sigh was the next answer, and it tugged at my heartstrings to hear it. I rolled to the edge of the bed, easing my feet to the ground carefully.

The door was agape, and I could see the edge of Hans’ shoulder through the opening. He must be sitting on the stumps by the wall. I couldn’t see Bar’tok, but he must be nearby for me to hear his voice so clearly despite its low volume. I wondered for a moment what they were conversing about. It seemed early still, there was still a slight haze to the air in the yard and I could almost taste the dew. Would it be wrong of me to eavesdrop like this?

There was silence then, and I wondered if they were talking too softly for me to hear, or if there was just a natural lull in the conversation. I stood, tip toeing a little closer. It was my house, after all. If they didn’t want me to overhear something, they really shouldn’t be talking right outside my door. After another few moments, Hans gave a deep, affirmative grunt. As if he had made some decision.

“She deserves to know why Red Wren came after her.” Bar’tok agreed, and I could almost see him nodding.

I stiffened slightly, realizing the subject of their conversation. But it was too late to back out now. I could see Hans shifting, as if he had sensed me. I squared my shoulders, moving over to stand in the doorframe. His big head craned to the side to look up at me, his huge blue eyes seeming a bit forlorn, even set as they were into his customary deep scowl. As they lit on me, I saw his brow soften slightly, though his lips tightened. I looked over to Bar’tok, who straightened at the sight of me and offered me a bashful smile.

“G-Good morning, ma’am!” He stammered, looking sheepish as usual.

I glanced back at Hans, then at Bar’tok, then back again. Based upon the look they were both giving me, I knew exactly what they had been talking about. Exactly why the larger orc looked so reluctant.

Part of me thinks that maybe he’s happy you don’t know… Because you like him for who he really is… And you do like him, right?

Hans sighed again, and started to open his mouth. I raised my hand, cutting him off.

“You don’t have to tell me. I already know.” I said.

Both orcs’ eyes widened, and they exchanged a look. Bar’tok’s mouth even dropped open slightly.

“You… You know?”

I nodded at the younger orc. “Of course!” I turned back to Hans, crossing my arms over my chest. “...I would never have thought how competitive contract laborer work can be. It’s absolutely cutthroat!” The pair exchanged another look, eyes still wide. I waved one hand in the air. “It explains everything though; the way you’re busy for days at a time, the fact that you have to travel for work, the constant threat of your competitors…” I shrugged, “Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.” I gave him a small smile. “Yours must be very successful, for that Red Wren lady to be willing to go to such extremes to knock you down. And why you were worried it might scare me.”

The orcs turned to each other, their faces blank, then back to me. Bar’tok opened his mouth, but at a growl from Hans, quickly closed it. He shuffled his feet, glancing over at his boss. Hans stared at me, looking me up and down slowly from head to toe. I smiled at him, unwrapping my arms to place my hands on my hips. After a long, extended moment, he gave a loud affirmative grunt. My smile grew, and I reached out and brushed my hand over his big shoulder fondly. His lips curled back into that soft shape I liked, and his eyes became a little doe-like.

“Excellent! Since that’s out of the way,” I turned to Bar’tok, “Are you here for breakfast?” The smaller orc looked surprised, then glanced over his shoulder. His sheepish grin returned as my gaze moved around the yard. My eyes widened at the sight of the destruction there. “By the gods!”

“... Wren.” Hans quickly grumbled by way of explanation, dropping his eyes as I turned back to him.

“Ah… Yeah, we think she was looking for something…” Bar’tok explained, clearing his throat. “The Boss called me in to help with the clean up.”

I put my hands back on my hips, considering the mess. “That’s very sweet of you to help! Definitely earns you an extra helping of eggs, I’d say. How about I get everything started, then I’ll come out to help you two?”

Hans grunted, slowly standing and shaking his head. He jerked his chin to the house as he stretched, and Bar’tok nodded his agreement.

“We can handle this, ma’am. No need to bother yourself with it.”

I sighed, shaking my head. Knowing better than to try and argue. “Well, I’ll put in an extra flourish for breakfast then, since I’ll have more time on my hands.”

I saw both orcs’ noses twitch in delight at the thought, and Bar’tok’s grin grew. “That sounds great, ma’am. Thank you much.”

The two quickly set about picking up the yard, and I went back into the house. A few short logs into the oven and I had it up to temperature to begin baking bread. I dug into the larder, fishing out cheese, butter, eggs, bacon, and even some apples from a bushel one of the customers had traded with me. I grabbed the small sack of flour, and quickly had some smooth batter whipped up.

A little while later, as the bacon sizzled, I moved over to the door. Popping my head out and looking around. Bar’tok was the closest, pouring several large buckets of fresh water into the righted trough. I smiled at him.

“I think we’ll have more space setting up the table outside.” I told him as he emptied the last bucket. “Could you carry it out for me?”

“Of course, ma’am. No sweat.”

He ducked to follow me into the house. He grabbed the benches first, taking one out under each arm. I didn’t mind that he accidentally whacked one into the frame of the door as we went. When he returned, I quickly scuttled over to the table and plucked up the pitcher.

“This is special.” I explained to him, cradling it with a smile in the nook of my arm.

Bar’tok hesitated, shuffling in place. “... Ma’am… now, it’s not my place…” Again he paused, taking a step closer to the table. Bending as if to pick it up. But he paused with his palms on the wood. “But… You know he’s not-”

“Breakfast will be ready soon,” I interrupted, turning back to the stove. “I hope the yard is almost set? If not, I think you’ve both more than earned a break.”

There was silence behind me, and I flipped the bacon out of the pan and replaced it with some more. It sizzled, filling the air with its juicy aroma. I felt his eyes on me, and eventually snuck a peek at him out of the corner of one. The younger orc seemed absolutely torn, chewing on the edge of his lip around his broken tusk. I sighed.

“I’ve decided I don’t need to know, Bar’tok.” I told him, pushing the bacon around with the fork. “And it makes him happy to pretend I don’t….” I smiled to myself, my face going soft. “And he makes me happy… so this will just be the secret we keep.”

When I turned back, the orc’s smile had split his face in two from ear to ear. He nodded, satisfied, and hoisted up the table as easily as if it were a sack of feathers. He shot me one more pleased, knowing look. I blushed, quickly busying myself with the final breakfast preparation.

Not long after, I brought plate after plate after plate of delicious goodies out to the table Bar’tok had set up in the cleared center. The pair had finished filling the pit for me, and the yard looked quite neat and tidy. As they washed up, I brought out the pancakes, fresh bread, bacon, apple crisp, eggs, cheese, and even some hot coffee. For the final piece, I carefully brought out the white and blue pitcher Hans had brought me. The flowers in it were wilted, but I didn’t mind, placing it in the center of the food like a crown jewel. I happily settled myself beside Hans on the bench, making sure our thighs touched, and watched the pair of orcs dig into the prepared food eagerly.

Under the table, Hans reached out, resting his big hand gently on my leg, and turned I smiled up at him. Watching his slate blue eyes soften as they fell on my face….

...

The End.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Young Sirius Black

Author note: I may Or may not make a second part- depending if anyone wants it lol 😂 And personally Young Sirius and young Remus are HOT! If only they acturally played them..

Did I Proof read: 😂 i love how you all think I might one day do that... Today is not that day!

Rating: PG 13

Fandom: Harry Potter

Twisting your hair Thur your fingers you were freezing. The small motion didn’t make your fingers warm up. You were unprepared for the cold you weren’t expecting the warm spring day too turn so bitter. Leaving your gloves in your Room. However you weren’t prepared for the cold. You weren’t expecting for Severus too Be late.. and over an hour late. You were fingers were turning red from the last bit of Jack frosts Bitter wind blowing. You wore a pink warm tuke, and your Gryffindor scarf with your plaid shirt and jeans. Not exactly warm winter gear. It was Warm when you left Hogwarts too GO to Hogmead too shop- Sev said he would be ten minutes behind you and would meet you at your spot. Right outside the bookshop. Where you were gong too spend way too much money on a book about muggle odd objects Thur history. And Newt Scandanders new Book on wondrous Creatures across Great Britain you were hoping Nessie was in the book.

There hasn’t been a confirmed Sighting Yet. But a magical creature that even the muggles see and tourist flaunt to see. It was a mystery and So far.. No confirmed cases proving it’s real or Not you were hopping Newt Scamander had a take on it. You wrote him last year asking about he’ import he is you’re favourite author and wizard in All of the magical world. Everyone was a Dumbledore fan you were a Newt. Fan. What he did alone in New york was worthy of your devotion.

What held you back from Getting your copy that you found thru the window was your promise too Severus that you wouldn’t go into the bookstore without him. But that was Before the weather turned cold And you were turning into a popsicles.

“What the Hell are you doing out here?” Turning your head seeing Sirius, Remus and peter walking back towards school but Sirius caught sight of you freezing hear the bookstore. He dashed over too you as you spoke, ‘oh Hey guys..”

They were fellow Gryffindor with you. You known them since year one. You and Remus have spent hours debuting on different’ creatures and Sirius who was Far too cool too geek out over creatures or anything fun. Always ignored you. But he quickly pulled his coat off wrapping it around you, ‘where the hell is your coat?”

“In my room it wasn’t suppose too get so cold! I wasn’t expecting too be in Hogmead that long..”

“Why are you out here freezing?” Remus questioned. He’s hair was floppy as he stared at you curiously. He always stunned you. You shook your head at his question answering honestly.

“I was suppose too meet up with Sev- we were going too too book shopping he said he was only ten minutes behind me..”

“How long was that? You left before us!’ Sirius snapped as you wrapped yourself in his leather jacket. Rubbing you’re arms. ‘“An hour- and a bit ago..”

“Jesus Y/N! Why didn’t you go inside and wait?” Sirius Snapped as you snapped back, “I promised i would meet right here! I didn’t- I should of left sooner- but i was- where’s James?”

It. Blurted out. It. was rare too see the four friends far from each other. Peter said he was at Honeydukes. With Lily.”

If James and Lily were in Honeydukes you knew. Sev couldn’t be far away.. and probably was in Honeydukes spying on the bubbling couple. Your freezing body was overflown with Anger and you chest got Hot. You turned going Into the bookstore. Ou cannot believe you stupidly and foolishly decided too wait outside too freeze while that Foul. Twisted Git!

you reached over too the book you came for when Sirius spoke up, “you really need too give up on Snivellus” looking up at Sirius you were surprised he followed you inside the bookstore. Books and Sirius. Don’t match sometimes you wonder If he can read. 99% of the time he copy’s he’s homework off Remus.

“Severus-“ you corrected him before grabbing the last copy of Newt scandmanders book when Sirius quickly grabbed It looking at you. “your freezing! You Are far better off without him.”

Rolling your eyes. Ignoring his soft brown eyes staring at you worried. You’re anger disappeared and you were once again cold.

“Don’t worry- he’s Far too deeply In love with Lily too Notice me-“

Sirius Rolled his eyes as you grabbed the book from. Him turning too too the till too pay. He followed you as he spoke, “Let’s go back- and get you a nice warm butterbeer your making me cold just by looking at you.”

That was one of Sirius Blacks Many charms he can easily. Switch the conversation and make you forget moments ago he made you want too hit his head.

“Yea- that be nice actually.”

Returning too Hogwarts you got into the great hall with Sirius as you both got a warm drink as he stared at you. Having Sirius Black stare at you with those deep intense eyes. Even made the smartest. Girls like yourself turn into putty.

“what?” You asked flustered at him. Solid four minutes of just staring at you. While you tried too pay attention too your book. “ Coming up with a list of guys better then Snivellus for you.” That made you chock on Air.

“excuse me?”

“Don’t worry Remus is top five.”

You closed your book hearing that leaning forward towards SIrius hitting his arm, “Stop it! I don’t need your help in my love life! Those.. Please tell me you are on the lower end of that list.” He grinned as he leaned forward, “Top three.”

groaning you shuffled too your feet. Sirius always got under your skin in one way or another. It was his joy and happiness too torment you. In any way possible. always in good fun. And you never had a problem with tormenting him back. you have countless times ruined his dates with a random Ravenclaw girl. It was just your friendship with Sirius.

Getting too our feet too leave. you couldn’t help but turn too look at him as you spoke, “Top three.”

he chuckled as he spoke, “Remus first , Me second, James third.. Arthur Wesley Fourth.”

“But- James is with Lily.”

“hence why he’s third.” Rolling your eyes. he’s logical caused headaches. You went too leave until you caught sight of Sirius tense up. He stared behind you as you turned seeing why. Severus.

“you weren’t at our spot.’- you bought the book already?’

Grabbing your book you Hit Severus hard in the arm. Snapping” you left me freezing outside In the cold for an hour! GRR!” It came out. as you stormed off. You got several feet before turning back grabbing your drink and Severus noticed you were wearing Sirius jacket. As you stormed off again.

‘“Tough luck mate.”

Sirius spoke up crossing his arms at ease seeing the large nose Severus standing there turning too face him, “ “leave Y/N alone. She doesn’t need too get Involved in someone like you.”

he started too leave too chase after you till Sirius Spoke up, “i don’t suggest you Run off after Y/N. She’s feisty and is freezing, perhaps Instead of Running around trying too catch Lily’s attention you look at the Only girl who could love you.”

with that statement Sirius walked off.

[jmcfarlane]

DRONE3

DRONe3

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

[killervibe]

Hate to See Your Heart Break

Summary: Barry notices Caitlin's quiet suffering. He's been there before.

Note: The title and lyrics come from this song !! Strongly suggest taking a listen! Also, minor spoiler for Love Is Blind. 

For: @manjehaal

Tag: @staroflightning

~.~ 

Love, happens all the time,

to people who aren't kind

And heroes who are blind

~.~

“Hey Caitlin.” Barry sped into the Med Bay with the evidence he snatched from CCPD not even six seconds ago. “I need you to run tests on these before officer Voogavitch notices I stole them off his desk.” He slapped the hat left from the crime scene in the plastic bag on her table and frowned at her hiss.

Caitlin’s chair swivelled so slowly, Barry had to double check he wasn’t in flash time. “Uh,” he said when he got a proper look at her face. “You’re wearing your hungover sunglasses.”

“I don’t have...hungover sunglasses.”

Barry stared at her. The acetaminophen tablet bottle was right next to her elbow.

“Fine,” she grumbled. Barry backtracked to the light switches and turned them all off. Caitlin let out a little sigh of relief and removed the accessory. “I’m a little...hungover.”

Barry grabbed one of her stools to sit. “Why?”

Caitlin shrugged as she took the forensic sample he had left her and slowly put on her gloves to start the analysis in the dark. “I guess I was a little too indulgent at my pity party.”

“Pity party?” He frowned as he watched her boot up one of her machines. “Why would…” He trailed off at her glare. It wasn’t that it was cold but...weary. He remembered that look. He’d worn it often and would notice as he passed by the mirror at the precinct back when Iris was dating Eddie.

...Oh.

“Caitlin,” he said empathetically. “They broke up.”

“I know,” she snapped. Caitlin folded her arms as she sniffed back her tears. “I know they broke up. I knew they weren’t working. I knew he kept coming to me to talk. And I let him.” Her processor pinged. Caitlin took it out and walked over to her monitor to read the results. “We talked so much. All night, sometimes. Just me and him over the phone. When he was away—After he came back. I just stupidly let myself think that…”

“He’d come back to you,” Barry filled in when she went silent again. “You thought he loved you, didn’t you?”

Caitlin bristled. “Well he doesn’t. Your meta has abnormalities that suggest a similar polymer composition to Ralph’s.”

She turned curtly and returned the evidence. “You need to bring this back before officer Voogavitch notices.”

“Caitlin.”

“Voogavitch. He’s old and grumpy and already hates you.”

“Caitlin.”

“I’ll be fine.”

And Caitlin never says she’ll be fine. Usually she won’t say anything at all. Usually Barry would get the cliff notes version from Cisco when she was finally ready to open up about what was bothering her because as close Barry and Caitlin were, they could never in a million years resemble the delicate intimacy that rested in the quiet conversations those two could have with their eyes. “Caitlin,” Barry said again, touching her arm. “He does. He does love you.”

“Yeah,” she responded faintly, sliding the sunglasses back on over her eyes. “And so do you, right?” She collected her purse and wobbled a bit in her heels. “If he asks, I went to visit my mother. He knows not to bother me for a full day then.”

“What are you going to do?”

Caitlin pushed past him lightly. “ What I was doing before you interrupted me. Sleep.”

~.~

Barry’s conversation with Caitlin left him rattled for the rest of the day. At dinner, he picked at his third plate, which made Iris raise an eyebrow.

“Did you eat those calorie granola bars Cisco made for you after work? You’ve hardly touched your food.” She sipped her drink. “I didn’t make it you know,” she teased.

Barry let his fork scrape against the rice and peas listlessly. “I know you told me not to stick my nose in others relationships again—” “Uh oh—”

“—But don’t you think we should try to fix the rift between Cisco and Caitlin?” “What rift?” Iris picked up her plate to put in their dishwasher, kissing his cheek as she passed him by. “They’re the same as always.”

“I know!” he complained. “That’s what’s so weird!”

“You’ve lost me, Barry.”

He sighed and picked up his own plate, wrapping it in a container to store in their fridge. “Caitlin is in love with Cisco, she has been since like, I don’t know, Iris...Since before we were engaged.”

“Wasn’t she with Julian then?” Barry rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. Julian was her distraction from Killer Frost and Cisco.”

Iris put a hand on her hip. “Barry. Are you sure this is all factual or just how you’ve been seeing it the last couple of years?”

He scoffed as he closed the fridge door, leaning against the tacked up drawings Jenna had made for them that they had put up with magnets. “Caitlin is in love with Cisco. Cisco has been half in love with Caitlin since day one, too. They just sucked at timing and now that Kamilla is no longer around...I think they just need a push.” “We don’t push our best friends into romances they don’t want, Barry!”

“Oh my god, but they do want it, though!” He ran his hand through his hair with a stressed out laugh. “Both of them!”  

Iris took his hands in hers, dragging him to their couch. She folded herself against the cushions, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles. “I get that these are your two best friends and you really want to see them be happy, but Barry—for the love of god. Let them work it out on their own. Please.”

He pouted a little, falling backwards onto the sofa and covered his eyes with a groan. Iris laughed.

“What am I supposed to do?” he whined through the muffling of his sleeve. She snuggled up against him until Barry couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her waist. She queued up Netflix. “How about getting you hooked onto the latest season of Love Is Blind?”  

Barry perked up immediately. “Do you think there’ll be another Messica?”

“There’s always another Messica.”

~.~

Barry watched Cisco and Caitlin be themselves for a whole other week with little to no development. He still stole her fries when she wasn’t looking and she nagged at him when he’d do something stupid only to get a fond eye roll and an arm slung over her shoulder. She’d tease his meta name of the week and for that, would earn a new nickname rolling off his tongue of her own. She’d let him hug her and she wouldn’t say anything different. And if her eyes darted over to Barry every once in a while after he’d be obliviously, painfully affectionate, well Barry seemed the only one to notice.

My friend, Cisco would always say when talking about her. My friend. My friend.

It made Barry cringe.

Another week turned into a month and then it was Spring. Iris began inviting Caitlin over to go shopping as a distraction. Cisco would turn down Ralph’s offers to hit the town.

Halfway into April, Barry got too distracted to keep score of Cisco and Caitlin’s stalling by a new crop of moderately dangerous alien attacks targeted around Central City. After a call and elaborate takedown with the help of Superman, they managed to put an end to it, content to send some alien children back to their homes.

Team Flash watched the news segment that relayed on Central City News Network in the Cortex as they fixed up the last of the technical difficulties in corresponding with the DEO to send the last aircrafts out to the alien planets, all wiped out and exhausted.

The news reel caught a quiet moment between Clark and Lois in the aftermath, Superman nowhere near in sight. The news headline captioned the footage of them grabbing onto each other in relief as 

“Couple Reunited After Alien Scare—Saved by Superman & Team Flash!”  

“Damn,” said Cisco around a Twizzler. “I want something like that.”

Caitlin clenched her clipboard tighter and forced a smile. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Duuuude!” blurted out Barry, slapping his hand against the whiteboard he’d been cleaning off from their language decodes and translations. Cisco might as well have been the one from another planet.  “Dude! Come on!”

Cisco startled in his seat at Barry’s volume. “What?”

“Stop it with the utter bullshit! You do have that! You’ve always had that!” He gestured wildly at their best friend. “Hello!?”

“Barry,” Caitlin warned.

Maybe it wasn’t his place. Iris had told Barry not to pry, but this was pushing all of them too far. He couldn’t stand to see the look on Caitlin’s face. It’s been weeks. Hell, it’s been months. This had to end.

It was too late to salvage what he’d done, anyway. Cisco turned to look at her. “What is he talking about?”

Caitlin’s cheeks flared up as she muttered something incomprehensible, setting the clipboard down.

Ralph took a long sip of coffee, watching the scene above the rim of his mug.

“It’s just a crush,” she said at last, as if she were commenting on the weather. “A silly little crush, Cisco. It’ll pass.” She ignored Barry as she briskly walked across the room, her eyes flickering for a moment as her hands shook.

“Stop,” she said to nobody in the room, in a hushed, direct tone. It must’ve been for Frost. “Stop it. I’m fine on my own.”

They all watched as she left.

“Okaaaay,” said Cisco. “I’m very confused. What the hell just happened?”

Barry kept his mouth shut already knowing Iris would kill him.

Cisco sat up on the monitor desk and dropped his candy. “Barry, I mean no offence, but how is it that—again, no offence—”

“—Little taken.”

“ How the hell does Caitlin have feelings for someone suddenly and she decided that you’re the first to know?”

“Does that bother you?” Barry countered.

“That she told you first!? I just said that!”

“No, it bothers you that she likes someone.”

That took Cisco by surprise. “What—No?”

“You hesitated.”

“No.”

Barry shared a glance with Ralph, who merely rolled his eyes. “Yes, you did.”

“So what does it bother me?” he lamented. “Why wouldn’t it? I don’t even know who this person is!?” Cisco frowned deeply, brushing a hand over his hair. “Do we know him? When did this happen?”

“Buddy,” said Ralph with feeling as he stretched his limbs, deciding to follow Caitlin in case Frost turned up after all. “Listen to yourself.”  

“I’m listening to myself just fine!”

“Uh.” Barry squinted at him. “Are you, really?”

Fine!” Cisco yelled, jumping down. Barry blinked. That was easy. “Maybe I’m concerned that Caitlin is falling in love again!”

“Why would that be a problem? You love Caitlin and want her to be happy.”

“I know!” Cisco shouted. “I love her and I want her to be happy but god for once, why can’t she just be happy with me?”

His words roared in Barry’s ears. Cisco himself blinked at his own outburst, shocked.

Finally. Finally!!!!!!

A ridiculous grin threatened to split Barry’s face, tremendously relieved that he didn’t have to suffer through this anymore. He reached for his pocket to text Iris about this new development with about a thousand exclamation points and a fireworks screen for emphasis.

“Cisco.”

The men turned on their heels, horrified to find Caitlin back in the entryway of the Cortex.

Cisco’s face went ashy. Barry nearly dropped his phone.

“Caitlin—“

She shook her head, cutting Cisco off, a dangerous look in her eye. “Do you know how selfish you sound? You don’t want me with other people but you don’t want me either!?!”

“What!?”

“How many times have I heard you talk about wanting someone normal? How many times did I have to spell it out for you? How much you mean to me—How many more ways am I supposed to!?”

“The clearest way, Caitlin,” Barry cut in quietly. “It’s not that he’s not interested. He doesn’t know.”

Cisco was now in front of her, imploring. “I don’t know what?”

Caitlin swallowed, tearing her eyes from Barry back to Cisco. “I want to be with you,” she confessed. “It’s not just a crush. It’s not going to pass. I’m so in love with you I'm sick with it.”

It seemed as though Cisco’s mind churned and churned until any coherence jumbled into alphabet soup. “You—? Me?”

Barry smiled.

Caitlin nodded and tugged on Cisco’s shirt hem as he stumbled closer. Barry remembered the weary look in Caitlin’s eyes when he’d caught her hungover weeks ago. It was making its reappearance.

“I’m not normal—“

“—Caitlin.” That was all it took to  snap Cisco’s brain cells back into formation.

“—I’m not wife material anymore, I get that.”

“Caitlin!”

“—But I’m happy with you. I’m so happy with you, Cisco—We don’t need anything else. We don’t have to change or be any different—You’re enough for me and that’s all I’ve ever really cared for—

“Caitlin.”

“—And I understand that you see me like a sister and how this is a total shock but I really thought—You were calling me Cait and sometimes you’d look at me and I’d let myself think—“

“Caitlin!” Cisco held her face in his hands to get her to stop talking. She seized, her words stolen away at their proximity, at his touch on her skin. Her eyes caught in his gaze.

“Cait,” he said much more softly, reverenced. He thumbed her cheek and leaned forward until their  foreheads were pressed together. Caitlin closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping as he slid his hands down her face, her neck, the curve of her shoulders. Arms wrapped around her entirely as they stilled in the hallway.

Barry couldn’t dare move if he tried. He was mistaken, what he thought he saw before. The lines of pain etched into her face, the guarded stiffness in her posture when she finally told him what she wanted. There was something different in the way she held herself and looked at Cisco now. It was not weary and miserable, but yearning and delicate. A heartsickness that despite all the fatigue he’d seen it carry over Caitlin now rested in the same place that signalled newfound strength.

“I don’t expect you to suddenly develop feelings for me overnight—“ she whispered.

“Well that’s impossible,” Cisco murmured into her hair. She stiffened in his arms but he simply held her tighter, continuing. “I already love you more than anything in my life.”

Caitlin startled backwards, covering her mouth with her hand. She made a noise like a yelp. “I thought I was imagining it. I felt like I was going crazy!”

Barry sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he took a seat by the monitors. “I told you!”

They both turned to glare at him, but only for a second. Cisco was immediately drawn back to Caitlin, walking backwards to lead her into the Cortex from their spot in the hallway. “No. No, no, no.” He promised. ”This is my fault, I’m sorry. Every time I was hurt or worried or upset when I was with Kamilla—I just wanted to speak to you. And when I finally admitted to myself it wasn’t working...I was too scared to admit to myself I just wanted to run directly to you, then too.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I didn’t know,” he said. “That it was the same way for you. You told me in Antarctica that you didn’t want to get in the way of me starting a family—I assumed…” Cisco paused abruptly. “You were in the way,” he realized breathlessly. “You were always in the way—Mmph!”

Barry’s heart flipped for the both of them, a dumb smile lighting up his face when Caitlin kissed the hell out of Cisco.

The meta alert dinged on Barry’s phone. He slammed down on the space bar to silence the building alarms before they could jolt them apart. He leaned his chin against his palms as his elbows relaxed against the keyboard with a happy sigh.

Lois and Clark were in town. Superman could get this one.

~.~

For all the air that's in your lungs

For all the joy that is to come

For all the things that you're alive to feel

Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal