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mathmusicred · 4 years

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Recovery Part 2 of 2

Inspiration for Timballisto’s part comes from this post by the great @theredwallrecorder.

~2.6k words

Part 1

Read on AO3

Martin leaned heavily on Gonff’s paw as they shuffled slowly to the dining hall. Most of the bandages had finally been removed a few days earlier, but the muscles in Martin’s limbs had wasted away after nearly a season of disuse. Each day he grew a little stronger, though there were still some days he was too sore to move. Luckily, today was a good day, physically and mentally. Still, Gonff was running through their usual memory checklist they had come up with, just to be sure.

“Where’d we go after we escaped Kotir?” Gonff asked.

“Skipper took us to Camp Willow,” Martin answered easily. “I’d thought you’d drowned for a second, but you were fine, as always.”

Not only was the checklist good for his memory, it helped Martin get his mind off how slow and weak he felt—they were often passed by some creature or other on an errand, and Martin watched their fluid movements with no small degree of envy.

Thankfully, Gonff quickly distracted him. “Who found the first clue to Salamandastron?”

“I did,” Martin recalled. “That hidden drawer knocked the breath out of me right quick.”

“Better you than me!” Gonff snickered.

Martin shook his head and patted Gonff’s belly. “But you’d hardly have felt it, you great gluttonous lardbarrel.”

Gonff sniffed and twitched his whiskers in indignation “Lardbarrel? Gluttonous? Me? You’ve got this all wrong-side-out and sideways, matey! Last I checked, yore the one who’s enjoyed his breakfast in bed for the past season, spoon-fed half the time, too, when you couldn’t be bothered to lift yore own paw!”

“Aye, and who was is that ate two spoonfuls for every bite he fed me?”

“Surely you mean she, Martin ol fellow. Abbess Germaine is a sneak and a thief, an’ that’s what I’ve always said!”

Martin’s stoic demeanor cracked, and soon he was laughing so hard, he had to sit down right there in the hallway.

Gonff, however, was prepared to drag the joke on a bit further. He eased Martin down and then crouched at his side, feigning confusion. “Aww, c’mon, matey, what’re you sittin’ on the floor for? The chairs in the dining hall ain’t good ‘nuff for you anymore?”

“Gonff, please, I—hahahaha! Oh, heeheehee, I can’t, I can’t!” Martin gasped out. At least it didn’t hurt to laugh anymore, even if it did take his strength away when he couldn’t breathe.

With a chuckle, Gonff shook his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop—at least ‘til we get you in a proper seat. Up you come, hup! Steady now, Martin, lean up against the wall a moment ‘til your legs catch up with you. There we are! Now, what can you tell me about our first day on the trail to Salamandastron, eh?”

Resuming their slow shuffle, Martin finally caught hold of his giggles and reigned them in. Casting his mind back on that first day of their journey, he smiled wistfully. “That was the day we rescued Chugger, wasn’t it?”

Gonff looked at him strangely. “Who?”

Martin gave him a longsuffering look. “Chugger, the young squirrel we saved from being eaten from the Flitchaye?”

“The what?”

“Runty weasels with knockout smoking herbs? Ring any bells?” Martin prompted, smiling, sure that Gonff was just teasing him again.

There was a beat of silence, however, and Martin noticed an uncharacteristic droop in Gonff’s whiskers. The little mousethief took in a deep breath. “Martin, I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only thing that happened our first day was when we saw those three vermin following us. I suppose one of them was a weasel—was his name Flitchaye? I don’t remember myself.”

Martin shook his head, confused and dispirited. “No. I don’t think I would remember his name, either. Perhaps my mind is making up memories to fill in the gaps. Isn’t that something Abbess Germaine said could happen?”

Gonff didn’t like the new dour mood, so he poked Martin in the ribs. “Aye, ‘s a good thing y’have me as yore matey, matey, or I’d be giving those flying pink toadstools another run!”

Martin offered a brief smile, and Gonff wasn’t satisfied.

“Hey now, once I get you settled to lunch, I’ll go find the Abbess and we’ll figure this out. Now c’mon, give me a big whopper of a smile, or I’ll pull out all yore whiskers and use ‘em for shoelaces!”

That did it. Martin was smiling again, and Gonff talked quickly to keep it that way, breaking into song a moment later, and they managed to arrive at the table without any more memory issues. True to his word, after he got Martin set up with a cheese and leek pasty, October ale, and blackberry flan, Gonff slipped away to find Abbess Germaine.

She was easy enough to find, dozing in the midafternoon autumn sunlight just outside Brockhall, watching over the children who were playing nearby. Gonff took off his hat and wrung it fretfully as he cleared his throat. Germaine came awake and took in his worried hovering with a small frown. “Gonff? Is something wrong?” she asked, pulling herself to her feet.

Gonff popped his hat back on his head and stooped to assist her, naturally allowing her to lean on his paw the same way he had with Martin. “It’s nothing terribly urgent, marm, just a concernin’ conversation I just had with Martin.”

Germaine grasped his paw and pulled him to a stop in the quiet entryway of Brockhall. “Concerning in what way?” she prompted.

Taking his hat in his claws once more, Gonff shuffled his footpaws anxiously. “We were running through our memory check, as usual, but then he started spoutin’ off names of creatures I’ve never heard of, marm. He was downright convinced of ‘em, too. Thought y’might want to speak with him.”

Germaine patted Gonff’s paw. “Indeed I do. Thank you for fetching me. Where is Martin now?”

“In the dining hall,” Gonff said, offering his paw once more.

“Hm, no, that won’t do,” Germaine decided, leaving Gonff’s side and shuffling down the opposite direction from the dining hall. “Ask Bella to carry him to her study. I’d like to talk with our warrior in private. And you, Gonff, will go to the kitchen and eat until we are finished. I’ll wager a pine nut to an acorn that you’ve not had a decent meal yet today, given the hour you arrived this morning. Shame on you, leaving your pretty wife before breakfast! You go eat now, or she’ll come wailing that we’re working the fat right off your bones keeping our dear warrior alive. And I can walk myself down a hallway, thank you! Go on, now, shoo!”

Gonff grinned ruefully. She may be old, but Germaine’s wits were still as quick as a whip. “Yes, marm.”

Germaine had not been sitting at Bela’s desk for very long before she heard the telltale sounds of an undignified warrior mouse being carried by a badger to the study.

“At least let me walk in myself, Bella, please—”

“And wait five seasons for you to crawl across the study? I think not. Gonff said Germaine would like to see you now, so I will deliver you to your destination.”

“This is so humiliating—”

“Martin, you weren’t able to hold a spoon a few weeks ago. You have come a long way, yes, but it’s going to take a great deal of time until you regain your so-called dignity, young mouse.”

Whatever argument Martin might’ve come back with was left unspoken as Bella walked into the study with him cradled in her arms. He set his jaw firmly and didn’t say a word while she set him in her own overstuffed chair.

Once Martin was settled, Bella dusted her paws off and turned to her old friend. “There. Now then, is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you kindly for delivering my patient,” Germaine said with that bright, smirky smile of hers. “I will call for you when we’re finished.”

“Very good,” Bella nodded, and she took her leave.

Germaine looked Martin over, smiling at his stiff upright posture. “I do apologize for any discomfort you may have felt, Martin, but I was eager to speak to you.”

Martin nodded and relaxed a touch. “Gonff told you what happened?”

The old Abbess folded her paws on the desk and leaned forward. “He said you spoke of creatures he did not know, but I would like you to give me the details, please.”

With a nod, Martin explained the scene he saw in full—he was travelling with Gonff and Dinny, but they heard the telltale sounds of Flitchaye drums, and upon investigation, they found a male squirrelbabe tied to a post in their camp. Martin described the scene and the rescue effort in great detail, clear up to their own rescue by an otter clan, and Germaine listened. At some point she began asking pointed questions, and it soon became clear that there was a fourth member of their party, even before they’d found the squirrel—a hedgehog maid named Trimp.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Martin said, clenching his paws into fists anxiously. “There was only Gonff, Dinny, and myself who went to Salamandastron.”

“That’s right,” Germaine agreed. “That’s because you were not going to Salamandastron when you found the squirrel.”

Martin’s ears twitched. “What?”

Germaine sat back in her seat and folded her paws into her habit sleeves. “You are not remembering what has happened. No, you are Seeing what will happen, in a future season.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Martin reeled back in his seat for a moment. “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Germaine shrugged. “But it is. You may not remember this vision tomorrow, or it may haunt you until it comes to fruition. I do not understand how or why these visions come to somebeasts, but I know that they do.”

Blinking rapidly, Martin shook his head. “I don’t understand. ‘Tis impossible to . . . to see the future! You said before that the mind can make up memories in place of old ones!”

“Yes. But that is not what this is.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as it fully sank in for the young warrior. He sat just as stiffly as before, resting his paws on his knees, but now his head bowed and he shook with silent tears. It was rare that Germaine considered Martin a youngbeast, but here, in this moment, she suddenly remembered that he was scarcely a few seasons into maturity. He had an old head on young shoulders, and he seemed to fully understand the weight of what Germaine had told him.

When Martin spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “I don’t want this.”

Germaine sighed, “It may not be for you to decide.”

In a surge of energy, Martin shot to his feet. “I am not some magic fox, Germaine! I am a mouse! A silly, injured little mouse who can barely remember his own friends’ names! Stop making me out to be some—some mystic and let me live my life in peace!”

He turned to the door and made it two steps before his knees buckled and dropped him to the floor. Abbess Germaine rushed to his side, calling, “Martin, Martin you listen to me! You are still weak, and it would be very unwise to strain yourself right now!”

Germaine knelt in front of Martin and helped him sit up, and then she took his face in her paws and lectured him sternly. “I know it’s a shock, I know you don’t want this, but if you suffer from the warrior’s bloodwrath—and you have every symptom indicating that you do—then cultivating this gift of sight may be your best hope of living a peaceful life. Do you understand?”

“No,” Martin breathed, eyes misting with tears. “I don’t understand at all, Mother Abbess. I don’t understand why I’m still living. What more must I do before I may rest?”

Germaine wiped the tears from his face with the gentleness of a true mother. “Because, Martin, someday there will be a squirrelbabe named Chugger, and he will die if you are not there to save him. There may be countless others counting on you, but the fates have decided to show you this one child whose life hangs in the balance with your own. Live, Martin. Live and grow strong again. Save him.”

Martin grasped her wrists and closed his eyes. Then, taking in a deep breath, looked up at her. “I will, Mother Abbess. I will save him.”

“Thank you, Martin. I know you will.” Germaine pulled herself to her feet and dragged Martin up with her, shouldering his arm, and helping him back to Bella’s chair. One she had deposited him there, she gathered up a nearby blanket and tucked it around the young warrior. “Now, you may rest.”

Too physically and emotionally exhausted to protest, Martin snuggled into the chair and closed his eyes.

Germaine shuffled back to Bella’s desk, where she located some ink and parchment which she hoped Bella would not miss, and she began to write the scene from the future that Martin had described.

Poor Martin. He just wanted to be done with all the attention and the idolizing, to live a quiet, peaceful life. Although Germaine herself foresaw this very wish fulfilled in the distant future, there was much yet to do.

After Martin calmed down a bit over the next few days, he and Germaine spoke again and agreed to keep it all quiet. His foresight of the squirrelbabe faded from his memory shortly thereafter. Most of his visions only stayed with him a few days, they came to find out in time, and Germaine quietly kept a record of everything he told her. It became quite useful when construction on the new abbey began in earnest, since Martin had seen it many times by then, and his visions provided details that helped speed the work along quite quickly.

The warrior’s memory of the past, however, remained a quagmire. Speaking with Timballisto helped, but within a few days Martin would forget the entire conversation. Germaine urged Martin to write it all down while he could remember it, but the warrior flatly refused. He always kept his conversations with TB very private, and never spoke a word of his past to his friends. Germaine didn’t understand it.

After TB passed that winter, there was none to help him—by spring, Marin had no recollection of his childhood whatsoever. At times, particularly after he had regained his full strength, Martin forgot he had memory problems at all.

Gonff was his rock during this time. The little thief always seemed to know when to work the memory back up or when to let it slide, and a full year after Martin’s brush with death, his memories became more stable and lasting. His foresight began to diminish at this point, but Germaine thought that was perhaps a great mercy. The sheer amount of wars, bloodshed, and intrigue that would come to their abbey in future seasons was astounding, and it weighed heavily on Martin when he saw it. Thus it was that when Martin inevitably forgot each vision, Germaine decided not to show him her record if it. She alone shouldered the burden of knowing their future, but it was a small price to pay to allow him to live a few seasons of peace.

#mathmusicred writes #fic #martin #gonff #germaine #bella #timballisto #this took a completely unexpected angsty turn #post Mossflower

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fortheheavenssake · 5 years

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PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 14

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

91: Oct. 19

MM ANON …… “ O no , not another f%#ing beautiful Sunday “…… All together, a ROYAL reunion 🦄🦎👸🤴… “ she’s not invited, again🧣“……” O Philip, do lets watch this documentary 🤣🤣“ …… “Really, old thing, really ?”…… “ bloody hell , Charlottes a better actress “……… “ Mummy!! I’ve lost my 🦎” ……” What next LG , the Caribbean and North America with the children?”…… “ Mmmm , Marm that would work ,next year’ someone will be jealous!!” …… “ “what’s that ol’ thing , I’m reading skippy Philip”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, I DO HOPE YOU’RE WELL🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 19/2019 1245 hrs CST

“ O no , not another f%#ing beautiful Sunday “…

Sunday is historically day to attend worship and spend time with family. It’s also, in more urban areas the day when the biggest newspapers come out. Another beautiful but blanked up day because this curse still hangs in the air, no justice yet but it’s coming! Justice is coming! Sunday’s will soon be as they once were, different, through life experiences but they will family days again!

All together, a ROYAL reunion 🦄🦎👸🤴…

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge just returned back to London last night after a five day tour of Pakistan 🇵🇰. The Royal tour was successful far and above expectations. They had promised the children a family weekend. I am certain there were lots of tears along the way despite FaceTime and talking, lots of hugs upon return home. Princess Charlotte has developed a passion for unicorns. Over the summer, as boys do, will all of the garden time that the Duchess did with her family he must have seen salamanders and lizards or just fell for them via books perhaps. So the whole family happily back together along with boss baby , Prince Louis. He acquired that title from his facial expression, priceless ones, during the flyover on Buckingham Palace balcony.

“ she’s not invited, again🧣“…

The Christmas church service last year, upon exiting, madam tried to engage Prince William in conversation, he was wise to her moves and made himself very busy fiddling with his scarf. She then tried Prince Charles who in turn ignored her. The term scarfing has truly taken on a life of its own online🤣🤣��😂😂. I think this is clearly Prince William putting his foot down clearly expressing his opinion.The line she’s not invited, also has a bit of a cite reference, the day of Prince Louis’ christening, as they left the chapel to walk back into the entrance, Princess Charlotte said to the amassed media, “you’re not coming”, was tremendously funny and sweet. Her personality was already showing!

” O Philip, do lets watch this documentary 🤣🤣““Really, old thing, really ?”…… “ bloody hell , Charlottes a better actress “…

HMTQ and PP, likely over the evening cocktail chatting, she jokingly states the above, his replies are the latter two quotes. I am glad they are able to talk and find some humour in this situation! Oh how l would love to be a fly on the wall, meaning love to hear some of their discussions!

“ Mummy!! I’ve lost my 🦎” …

Well trauma, upset, tears of sadness and shrieks of OH NO!! Prince George has lost his lizard, l hope not inside or shrieks of horror, outside, just a very sad little boy. I am certain a replacement lizard could be sourced post haste!

” What next LG , the Caribbean and North America with the children?”

Prince William and HMTQ, and Duchess Catherine likely reviewed/debriefed the events of the tour with LG in attendance. I can hear ideas thrown about on how to continue this success to build on the success of the monarchy. I think half jokingly William said, what next, do you propose such a trip with all three children? I know rumours out there of madam being pregnant but not confirmed, besides another a Royal tour doesn’t happen with her, because SHE IS NOT ROYAL!!! I know the Cambridges took their own private medic along to Pakistan 🇵🇰. I have a feeling she may already be or will shorten announced that she is expecting another child.

“ Mmmm , Marm that would work ,next year’ someone will be jealous!!” …This is definitely LG responding to the notion of an entire a Cambridge family Royal tour! Can you just imagine the coverage? There would have never been anything like it before, and madam would be climbing the walls of her cell or padded room when she learned of that. She will be forever jealous and hateful.

“ “what’s that ol’ thing , I’m reading skippy Philip”

HMTQ reading when PP says something to her, she replies with the above quote! See 💜🐼💜, l have told youn🐼, THEY DO READ YOUR BLOG,!! This is an absolute confirmation of a suspicion l have had and have talked about! So feel free to express yourself!! WE LOVE AND BELIEVE IN HARRY, WE WANT HIM BACK!!!💜💜💜💜GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 19/2019 1315 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG….what a fun happy riddle today. I love the tidbits about the children…..I want you know we greatly appreciate the time and effort you put into deciphering these riddles for us. Well…I hope if HM does read here….she will let us know she is ok…😉.💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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92: oct 20

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻This riddle was extremely difficult 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜🤣

MM Anon

MM ANON … A disruption in the FORCE… … give a lot , take a little …… sighted for perpetuity …… 🎼matter of fact, it’s all dark 🎼……… multiple numbers …… his backhander slush fund …… silent outrage in Carshalton …… “ But O, how bitter a thing”………” bending of the heart flings” ……… a comfortable exorcism …… “ sunshine is the best…” …… “ sunshine is the best…”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 20/2019 1405 hrs CST

A disruption in the FORCE

In all the a Star Wars movies the FORCE is the power of the energy for good to fight evil. The force be with you has become common usage when you wish some good luck or best wishes in all kinds of situations. Here we are now, dear MM ANON has the word force , in all capitals , meaning extreme, pay attention, some people say all caps means you’re yelling. I personally do not, many of you know when o type in all caps l am expressing my emotions or concerned topic. MM ANON is in deadly seriously telling us that evil, and we all know the evil, it has a name and backers and ultimately the biggest backer who takes souls and laughs at God! There is an extremely concerted effort, especially today to take down HMTQ and the Monarchy, this is as serious a things get folks. There is a disruption, Harry was the access point, evil got in, has been using him everyday. I do not know what will happen today, tonight , tomorrow or the day after. But vigilance is needed, pray if you’re so inclined. This is the most serious battle and attack HMTQ has ever faced!

give a lot , take a little

That’s the phrase, climate change, leave less carbon footprints , charity give your time, etc. HMTQ and many royals give so much time, yes they get to live in mansions etc, but how many of us could keep HMTQ schedule for 93 years, still smile as if everything was fine. I think no future generations will have those skills. The world has changed, everybody is famous with their Instagram etc etc.

We have madam who has taken and taken , taken, taken, taken,taken, taken, was well with open arms publicly, despite manipulating her way in. She has taken very perk there is. NO GRATITUDE, give an inch, she takes 100 miles, so to speak. What does HMTQ get for this? Fingered up, every way, every day, now the poor card will be played after using and exhausting all her other cards. Few have asked me how l am, wah wah wah. She screams privacy, privacy, don’t take my picture, how can anyone ask you anything? She has treated the British people so vile lay, why would they even WANT TO ASK? They want her gone, pick a country, leave!! Just stop,your whinging , word salad, environmental preaching while taking six private jet flights. On and on and on….

sighted for perpetuity ……

Perpetuity is an interesting word, it’s used in financial terms but does have another usage. Let’s let our friend google help us understand it. One meaning is a bond or other security with no fixed maturity date. The second meaning is used as a legal meaning. It is

a restriction making an estate inalienable perpetually or for a period beyond certain limits fixed by law. Now let’s be clear on what inalienable means that something or someone is unable to be taken away from or given away by the possessor. Basically this is meaning , Harry’s inheritance from his mother, his great grandmother, the Queen mum, any other such funds, homes, jets etc etc CANNOT be taken away from him FOREVER. So should there be a divorce or annulment, she has no legal grounds or recourse to go after any of these items. A payout yes, so the royal family has sound legal and financial admin setting up their assets. Thank God!!!

🎼matter of fact, it’s all dark 🎼………

My dear MM ANON, l must say , l was absolutely expecting a return to this gem today! Pink Floyd’s Eclipse. The lyrics of this song about basically everything in life, l can’t put them in here due to copyright but you can easily find them The song ends with the eclipse. The thought is during a lunar/eclipse of the moon, the moon goes dark and the side we can’t see is still lit up. The song ends by this phrase that MM ANON gave us , it’s all dark. Extrapolating that to the situation at hand, it’s all dark. There is no sliver of a silver lining, bit of light or hope that madam will have an a-ha moment, fall on her knees, acknowledging her sins and beg forgiveness. No no no no, it’s all dark, no redemption will be sought. This is very dire friends, very dire indeed, the prognosis is dark. Hence my feelings of anxiety.

multiple numbers ……

Well what is this? We know madam has had multiple number partners, marriages, sex videos, tax issues, merching, basically everything. What is MM ANON referencing here? Discrepancy in items on her taxes? There are so many possibilities.here

his backhander slush fund

This has an informal British meaning of a secret payment, typically one made illegally; a bribe. So, a slush fund is extra cash , hidden, in case of emergency etc. Who is ‘his’ here? Is it PH? Did he think he could at first, just pay her for the booty call and she would go away, vastly unaware of the plot. Is this PP or PC who have such a fund, if needed. Is this PA, who also may have a fund of this nature, if needed. I have no idea which one but this confirms that such fund exists and the purpose for it, but l don’t know who or why it may have been started or if/when/how often it has been used. Yet another piece of this ever-growing larger puzzle.

silent outrage in Carshalton

Carshalton s a town, with an historic village in the London Borough of Sutton, South London. Historically Carshalton is part of Surrey. The Earl and Countess of Wessex live in Bagshot Park, Surrey. Sophie does so much in her duties. She is exceptionally close to HMTQ. I saw an interview with her and Prince Edward. They said basically every weekend they spend together, doing outdoorsy things, horses etc. She said also, since so close she often goes for tea with HMTQ. Prince Edward has been reportedly been called her favourite son. Edward will inherit his fathers title, the a Duke of a Edinburgh when that time comes. I think the both of them must be terribly concerned for HMTQ and PP, their health, this stress etc etc.

“ But O, how bitter a thing”………” bending of the heart flings”

From Shakespeare’s As You Like It. First quote referencing seeing another’s happiness through their eyes. Harry saw/sees in William and Catherine’s relationship, then marriage, the three beautiful children, their complete and utter love and devotion. These are all things he longs to have, achingly so. I ache for Harry. I cannot seem to locate the second quote, that’s very odd/unusual. I shall figure it out. Longing for something, sometimes one bends or does something they would never nor do, if they think it can get them what they desire. Flings can be a very casual relationship vacation fling, holiday flings etc, now maybe a booty call. So here we have a young man , struggling with his emotional state, severe anxiety, depression and PTSD, has every tangible thing in the world, except he longs for , desires the intangible, love, utter devotion and children of his own, they become tangible or real. This describes the situation exactly when the attack was made on the BRF via Harry. This steams my tea kettle!!

a comfortable exorcism

Exorcism, in its truest meaning, is a person possessed by a demon, or demons/Satan and a Priest or pastor uses Scripture and other things to set the victim free releasing them. This word, demon,is often used now to describe addiction or other really difficult things that have a hold on someone, therapy, AA, exercise etc etc etc can be used to exorcise oneself. So here we have a comfortable getting rid of the thing that has a hold of some. God l plead this means that Harry will be released from the grasp he is under, if l read this correctly, comfortable means exactly that. How this will be done, LG and HMTQ know. Please let me be correct🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

“ sunshine is the best…”

Sunshine is the best disinfectant there is, you hang sheets, quilts laundry and the UV, ultra-violet rays kill anything. Just look at what it does to our skin! MM ANON is being cheeky with a double entendre here, Sunshine Sachs, the supposed master PR firm that ‘uses the dark arts for clients’. Since they have come on board, the boat has tilted and started quickly the process of sinking. So they have done nothing to help, on,y made this worse. However, we can count on God’s glorious creation, the sun, to sterilize the filth that’s made public so far and will be made public in the future!!! So come on, pullback the curtain, let the filth out!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 29/2019

1520 hrs CST

You missed the last hint….

a very lumpy bed nutmeg

“A very lumpy bed nutmeg “

I think this in anticipation of a nice bed in an expensive building with lots of hired staff and she will get to wear designer orange jumpsuit! MM ANON hinting at either hospitalization or incarceration. I have an extensive 20 plus years working in the mental health field, inpatient treatment for any personality is in effective, they quickly adapt, learn staff weaknesses etc etc.

Preparing to hope the orange jumpsuit time comes!

Sorry love forgot this one guys, when l cut and pasted the riddle this didn’t appear.

Thank you PG…again looks interesting! Thank you for all that you do. Much appreciated!😁💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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93: oct 21

MM ANON …… rejected ‘ now reflect!!…… A colonial decision …… Cain un-Abel………… he’s not heavy …… “re-tune your bloody violin”…… “ change the channel 🤣 old thing”…… a broken mendacity …… Calipornia scheming …… “f***that cottage,I wanted the house”…… “ the family I never asked for” …… “all to plan ma’am”……🎼”Paperback Writer? “🎼…… cry-Sis,What cry-Sis.

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 21/2019 1340 hrs CST

rejected ‘ now reflect!!

We have had a clue very similar wording, l cannot recall exactly. Madam feels very rejected by the big bad U.K. l have been there a number of times, trust me, l was treated like royalty by my friends there!! The people are feeling very angry by her poor me poor me, the final straw l think the camels back is nearly completely fractured. That’s a phrase when something in life has been building and building and then some happens, the last straw and the person collapses mentally, or becomes violent or leaves a marriage. I hope l am explaining that so it makes sense! Harry will have six weeks to reflect, on everything he has done at HMTQ and LG behest. He has given his all for HMTQ.

Cain un-Abel

In Scripture, Cain and Abel they are the first two sons of Adam and Eve. God was given sacrifices for worship, he found favour in Abel’s sacrifice. Cain murdered Abel , jealousy? Here we have un-Abel. This is clearly Prince William and Prince Harry, not ever the murdering part. I think MM ANON is meaning one brother married and has lovely family and will be King. However Prince Harry’s marriage is bogus as is amw. Prince Harry is obviously struggling in every way. One brother just unable to find the love and family, life partner as the other has. I pray for them both!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

A colonial decision ……

The colonies is what America was called before they separated taxation without representation! So madam has decided to return to the colonies, live her filthy life, write a book and continue to cause carnage, SO SHE THINKS!! She has absolutely no idea what will hit her when reality comes. No more delusional lies, the long list of alleged things done wrong and the laws alleged involved. Oh God, let justice be meted out SOON!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 P.S. madam, most people in the colonies have no idea who you are and more so they don’t care! She will be seen as a whiner etc etc.

he’s not heavy ……

Phrase, and song, he’s not heavy, he’s my brother. In the garbage last night, Harry did not confirm any falling out, he said they’re both on different paths, busy life. But he’s my brother, they will always be brothers and always be there for each other. TO ME THAT SAYS IT ALL!!

“re-tune your bloody violin”……

Old saying when someone is whinging or feeling sorry for thematic, being a drama queen etc another person puts their hand up and rubs their thumb and index finger together. They then asker the whinging person, do you know what this is? It’s the worlds smallest violin playing just for you!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂 PP wants a change in the tune, make it louder so madam cannot be heard!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

“ change the channel 🤣 old thing”…

PP and HMTQ started watching the garbage last night, PP chuckling says to her to change the tv channel! I picture them in their evening close, lovely fireplace, comfy elegant room and furniture, having a cocktail and just enjoying each other’s company. As they have done their entire marriage, they are at each other’s side, just beautiful, brings tears actually how horrible this massive attack has been!

a broken mendacity

Mendacity is untruthfulness, lies. Broken lies, well how many times have we seen this with madam. Dozens, she tells so many lies as does her PR, things get twisted and nothing gets amended, they lie their way out of it when questioned. If it weren’t so deadly serious it would be funny. Like a kid with chocolate all over his face and mum asks if he ate chocolate and he says no. She really is stunted about age 14 , lies like some teenagers do!

Calipornia scheming ……

Well she scheming what else she can do to blow the Monarchy apart and completely destroy it Prince Harry. This six weeks away, home in L.A.?Doing porn, or finding wealthy person to be used by for money.perhaps meeting with her backers. I hear rumours of an interview with OW. The whole group of ba let’s will rally around and continue their unrelenting plot to destroy destroy destroy.

“f***that cottage,I wanted the house”…

Well no surprise there, Frogmore Cottage blech , she wanted FROGMORE HOUSE THE MANSION! What unmitigated gall this stupid, egocentric, narcissistic, evil possessed bint! She probably thinks since their offices are at BP she should be given BP!

“ the family I never asked for” ……

Initially, she was saying the Royal family, was family that she had never had. She knew nothing of them, LIE! In the engagement interview she said everything she knew about the Royal family she leaned from Prince Harry and from actually meeting them. Now she has figuratively slapped them all across the face. Talking about how mentally damaging it is to live using a stiff upper lip. I won’t go into detail of how successful, having this life ethos has helped them get through wars, etc etc, you all know this and what a complete disrespect she has shown to them. To say Tutu was historic leader glad amw could meet, UNBELIEVABLE! HMTQ has reigned for nearly 70 years seen it all. Absolutely no respect for her and the Monarchy itself. I am so angered that this stupid, perverted, sold herself in every possible DARE DARE DARE!!! This degree of vulgarity and disrespect my blood is boiling, l am so angry!

“all to plan ma’am”…

LG giving HMTQ an update on how their work is progressing. He seems very pleased with last nights tv garbage. He has been patiently working with his team to deal with this. He has been playing the ultimate game of chess with someone who cannot play checkers. He has given her many opportunities to show her true self. Last night she was all laid bare, pun intended, videos or photos l am certain will be public at some point. She has walked confidently into every single trap that was laid out for her. Now all captured in living colour, in her own words!! Treason! She was not pregnant, fauxmegnancy! , if there is some surrogate child, it’s not Prince Harry’s child.

🎼”Paperback Writer? “🎼…

This is a great song by the TRUE Fab Four, The Beatles! It actually mentions the Daily Mail and the gossipy things that appear in tabloids. This is telling us that madam is or will be writing a book. She has no limits in her grand focuses and cause maximum carnage with our a Royal family. Her backers probably will pull some strings and make sure it gets maximum coverage. The big bad Brits and the Royal famine didn’t ask her if she was ok. Give me strength Lord🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

cry-Sis,What cry-Sis.

Cry-sis is an actual UK charity to assist new parents when their babies have problematic sleep patterns. However, MM ANON, always clever, this is Crisis, what crisis? Someone is in denial. There are several real things happening in the U.K. that fit the word crisis. Brexit, politics, BOJO misleading HMTQ, madam and her backers plan to cause the Royal family to break and crumble. In last night garbage, in an area where life and death issues are occurring, she is 110% self focused. SHE HAS FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS! Yammering on about her tough life standing on African soil where there are many third world problems. She is selfish to a degree l have never seen, it’s evil, Satan working through her! She has completely sold her soul.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 21/2019 1455 hrs CST

Fascinating read dear PG! Looking good, all going as planned! Thank you so much, again…much appreciated! 🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜

—————-

94: Oct 22

MM ANON …… dodging the Boo-lets…… November is a wicked month ……… Banksgiving … … “He’s untouchable” …… Dispatches Dispatched…… “ l stand by my husband “s,millions …… “ you’ve lost your mojo mate” …… 🎼” when I was 21,it was a very good year”🎼…… Marry and Hagon …… “meanwhile, back at BP”…… “mummy,mummy a Halloween unicorn 🦄 “…… “ I’m going as a 🦎”…… “well we’re going as M&H”…… “yeah, it’s a pity I listened to my d***”. …… “ nothings impossible mate”…… “look’ here’s your out!!”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 22/2019 1345 hrs CST

… dodging the Boo-lets

Today, now as we speak, madam is wearing her purple maternity dress which magically fits her, whilst attending the One World Youth Symposium at Royal Victoria and Albert Hall. Oh how l would love to see it, l so wish l were well enough to, alas, l am already digressing. This 💜💜”The annual One Young World Summit convenes the brightest young talent from every country and sector, working to accelerate social impact. Delegates from 190+ countries are counselled by influential political, business and humanitarian leaders such as Justin Trudeau, Paul Polman and Meghan Markle, amongst many other global figures.

Delegates participate in four transformative days of speeches, panels, networking and workshops. All delegates have the opportunity to apply to give keynote speeches, sharing a platform with world leaders with the world’s media in attendance. As well as listening to keynote speakers, delegates have the opportunity to challenge world leaders, interact and be mentored by influencers. Delegates make lasting connections throughout the Summit, celebrating their participation at social events and the unforgettable Opening and Closing Ceremonies.

The One Young World Summit 2019 sees the global forum for young leaders return ‘home’ for the first time since the inaugural Summit in 2010. With over 300 languages to be heard on its streets, London is one of the most diverse places in the world. The city is home to nearly 9 million people, one of the world’s biggest financial centres and countless historic sites such as Buckingham Palace and Big Ben. A city where the past and future merge, London provides the ideal backdrop for young leaders from more than 190 countries to work together to accelerate positive change.” 💜💜 Information taken from one young world.com

It’s important because young people are vulnerable. This woman has no shame, After all the fireworks she has set off, she strolls in there, wearing someone else’s hair, in her maternity dress! An enigma wrapped in a riddle, quite literally is she.

Since the audience is composed of young people the addition of let’s after boo, refers to that. The hope of many is that she would be in direct line of receiving public anger. The brief bit l saw was Higgs kiss you etc, no boos nothing. Now l am never one to wish ill will on anyone but consequences for behaviours? ABSOLUTELY!! Consequences will at some point catch up with her!

November is a wicked month …

MM ANON you do enjoy the book don’t you, this is the second time you have referenced it but changed the month. My memory is still intact🤣🤣😂.l shall help others catch up. The book is entitled August is a Wicked Month by Edna O’Brien. The plot revolves around a woman who has moved to a foreign city, separated from her husband, dreadfully unhappy and moves south to find a new life in the sunshine. Well, we are in October, rumours abound about madam moving to Africa or Canada. On behalf of Canada, sorry we are closed for business, if you leave a message NOBODY WILL RESPOND!😂😂🤣🤣 l know l have used that line BRF but it’s so funny😂😂🤣🤣. What November, six weeks off, off to the sunshine in L.A. Oh God please let her lose her passport or have the IRS or FBI awaiting her arrival.

I must say, l have been pleading for Harry, PTSD, combat fatigue, that he be assessed medically for that pain, and psychologically regarding the off the charts stress of this role he has been playing. Thank you HMTQ and LG for giving him six weeks leave, he is so badly in need of it.

Banksgiving

Madam returning home for American Thanksgiving which occurs much later than ours(Canadian)does. There is no bank holiday for Thanksgiving in the U.K. so what’s the meaning here? Is madam going to earn some money during the sex, l meant six weeks off?? I know she’s resourceful, has no shame, long history of letting every bit of her, body heart soul used. So l won’t think further, you can all imagine ways she might find a ‘bank’ in America.

“ l stand by my husband “s,millions

Old country music song Stand by Your Man, l think Tammy Wynette? Yes, madam has stood by her H , so many times, loving, supportive, so concerned when he was in pain, always let’s him go first, never interrupts him, praises HMTQ, treats people respectfully, especially during Royal tours, follows protocol in every way, oh oh oh, wait, l am thinking of Catherine! Yes the Duchess of Cambridge stands by her man! Madam stands by Prince Harry for his money and his fathers money, heck, anyone s money just as long as they give it too her. I may be jovial today is some comments, l have been awake since 0300 hrs bad night, but you all know by know how seriously l take to do justice to dear MM ANON in interpreting her riddles! Humour is a coping mechanism, l have honed that skill well!

“ you’ve lost your mojo mate” …

Prince Harry likely spending time with friends he has not seen for awhile. Likely he can share only certain things. Everyone who has eyes can see HES lost weight, depressed etc etc. The word mojo, when l was little, mojos were little fruit chewy candies, 5 for two cents. Mojo, means ones drive for life, zest to do new things or go back to doing things you used to enjoy. This is a very loving and honest person telling Harry this. I am so glad he’s got so many who love him. Harry, there are lots like me, who believe in you 100% , pray for you and want the octopus tentacles untethered from around you!

… 🎼” when I was 21,it was a very good year”🎼…

What MM ANON., no Pink Floyd. Now this is my jam, ‘ol blue eyes himself, Mr. Frank Sinatra, when music was music. This is a sentimental song. The lyrics take us through four phases in a mans life, ages 17,21,35 and autumn , the older years. It describes relationships with women, no let me take that back, it’s about how males see females at different ages. Seventeen is all teeny bopper love. Twenty one, things get far more intimate. Thirty five is interest, because Harry is due to turn 35. That part of the song, the lyrics speak of relationship with blue blooded woman, limousines, chauffeurs. I am interpreting this as an annulment or divorce before he turns 35. Hope and a future to look forward to real love, a real family of his very own. I wish that with all my heart for our Harry!

… Marry and Hagon

Marry and Hagon? Harry and Magon……..She will be gone. Harry will be Harry but she will be gone!!!!!

“meanwhile, back at BP”……

Old saying meanwhile back at the ranch, means change the topic or in tv shows change of scene. So with all that has gone on, HMTQ remains doing her duty each and every day. How l love her in purple!! She follows her routine, to the letter, giving each appearance her all. One would never ever know of all the things that have happened and are continuing to happen behind the scenes. The stiff upper lip, that’s how one gets things done, it’s not mentally damaging. HOBBIES , sniff sniff, snort snort, the like madam loves, and PERVERSION are mentally damaging. There is a saying, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. One doesn’t whimper and moan. With my current life, since my spinal lesion and constant pain, my life changed fir sure. Stiff upper lip and humour have got me through. I think pretty much anyone who has read my words, or messaged me, can attest to the fact that l have a serious side along with a silly side! Stiff upper lip!!

“mummy,mummy a Halloween unicorn 🦄 “…… “ I’m going as a 🦎”… “well we’re going as M&H”…

Well, how much would l LOVE to see these beautiful children in their Halloween costumes!! Princess Charlotte, a unicorn, Prince George as a lizard, William and Catherine’s joking as who they will be. MM ANON, can you please find out what boss baby Prince Louis’ costume will be!! Thank God for the beautiful Cambridge family,they are so beloved.

“yeah, it’s a pity I listened to my d***”.

Prince Harry, again in conversation, l would say definitely with a male due to usage of the d word, starts with d rhymes with pick. Talking together with how he got into this mess. It was a booty call, just a booty call. To have that lead where it has, is terrifying. Pay attention kids! No casual sex! It eats away at your soul.

“ nothings impossible mate”……

Continuing in the conversation, his friend is reassuring Prince Harry that he has fulfilled his duty. This relationship will end in annulment or divorce and the future is bright. He has learned so much about himself, about life, about what’s truly important and there is definitely possibility for him to find love and have his own family. All thank a God he has supportive friends and family who live him!

“look’ here’s your out!!”

Madam, wah wah wah, nobody asks me if l am ok, and saying in vague terms that she maybe cannot continue, it’s near the end of the interview, l cannot recall the exact words. She will go to America , hit the ground running there🤣🤣😂😂😂🤣🤣. The only way she will hit the ground running is if she parachutes off the plane! Her doing this, his friend is saying that Harry’s out, it’s a short way to say, you can get out of a situation. This means get out of the marriage. I am still not 100% there is a legal marriage, Harry held up the register as he signed, plus non-consumation, (no intimacy after vows)annulment. I think the fact that this alleged baby is NOT his, that is critical point as well. Treason, madam trying to pass off baby as being of the body, fauxmegnancy, and no DNA matching Harry.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 22/2019 1500 hrs CST💜💜💜💜💜

Thank you dear PG! This is great….things are happening in the background….I too would love to know what PL will be! Much appreciated as usual…😊💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

********

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG APOLOGISES🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜💜I have to apologize, l after the submission, noted two clues were missed by me.

l have changed how l work on the riddles, in terms of where on my iPad. It has happened several times that l miss clues since that time.

MM ANON, l mostly apologize to you, l know you work so hard on your riddles.

Am l forgiven!???🥺

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦

PG, no need to apologize…we appreciate you and all the time and effort you put in…😊💜💜💜💜

*********

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻FOR MM ANON FROM PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon💜💜💜💜💜

MM ANON …… pg … no apologies never!!! You’re input as with others who give such a wealth of interpretations. Time for me to thank everyone for their esteemed efforts , my sincere and humble thanks. One last riddle ……… “ The pain in gain stays mainly on the wane.” (( difficult)) … but fun.

Eliza Doolittle

the rain in Spain stats mainly in the plains

MY FAIR LADY awe come on that was easy! Rex Harrison always my idea of an Englishman!

Seriously thank you for your kind words!

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦

Thank you PG😊❤️❤️❤️

—————

95: oct 24

MM Anon I DONT KNOW WHY IT WAS ALL JUMBLED UP I HAVE REDONE IT

MM ANON …… 22 years,sex lies drugs and video tapes …… little boy lost (and found) …… LGs long rope …… 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼……… DVDelivery …… LGs records. …… 🎼”cold comfort for change”🎼MA……… “ No darling, 42 and counting “……… “ since 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼 before the gathering of unhappy people old thing”……… inadmissible but relevant …… “ a brilliant QC”……… “ a very thick brief📇⚖️“…… “as tight as a ducks@$$ under water’ ma’am”…… “one is reluctant you understand!

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 24/2019 0500 hrs CST

Sorry it’s submitted so late!

22 years,sex lies drugs and video tapes

Madam has a long, sordid past and present, her future is unknown, one can always pray for redemption. This clue is telling us of several decades of vulgarity, substance(s) use and abuse, pornographic videos etc etc etc. Some people somewhere have the videos. There has to be many many witnesses or people out there who have first hand knowledge either participating in or observing these behaviours. Thus far there has been no whistle blowers so to speak. That tells us a lot of money has been paid or threats made to silence people.

little boy lost (and found)

This has been the title of numerous tings, sculpture, film, novel and a poem by poem by William Blake in the 1700’s. I will focus on that. It is written by a Christian, he uses the metaphor of a young boy walking behind his father but loses his way, endings up all wet and muddy. Here we have little boy lost and found. This is of course our Harry. He was lost emotionally decades after he lost his mum. Lifestyle choices were not the best, shall leave it at that. He met madam on a booty call, here we are today. Harry has, l still believe! been working covertly for all the reasons l have stated reported in my interpretations. Hence the little boy, now a man has been giving his all to make up for his mistake(s) to his own physical peril. Weight loss, depression etc etc. He now has six weeks leave!

LGs long rope

LG has made a long game plan, every step of the way madam, thinking she’s getting her way, has fallen into every trap, the ultimate being the video interview with Tom Brady, Harry’s friend going way back! The old saying give a guy a rope and he will hang himself , metaphorically, like give an inch , she will take a mile. Give her bit of freedom and she ends up looking like an idiot. Well she truly has incriminated herself, the video was brilliant in capturing everything in HER OWN WORDS!

🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼

Fantastic musical entitled Evita! Based on the life of Evita Peron . She was born Maria Eva Duarte’s in a small village in Argentina, in a very poor family. At young age she moved to Buenos Aires with big dreams of being famous actress. A year there she met her future husband at a charity event. Juan Peron became president in 1946 and she was First Lady until 1952, year she died. The Musial became very successful even became a film with Madonna. Anyhow we know madam spent time in Argentina as arranged by one of her uncles, working in some job at the embassy/ consulate. Those years are murky but she didn’t last long , she allegedly left suddenly with some guy. The irony of both women’s lives cannot be lost!

DVDelivery

DVD, we know recordings of sex exist. Who sent them and who received them? Who has copies. There are videos onlin, l won’t watch but some say yes, some say no regarding whose in them. I would think, LG has long long had possession of that and worse. We know the DM has a million dossier ready to go , ready BEFORE the day of unhappy people!

LGs records.

LG has the most distinguished record of service to HMTQ and country. I am certain he has kept a volume of data, in all forms of all the information he and his team and other agencies have collected. I am as certain of that as l am certain of anything.

🎼”cold comfort for change”🎼MA

MM ANON takes us again to Pink Floyd. I used to love! this song, Wish You Were Here, can be used with any loss, or at least l found it to be thus. Madam and MA have been an illicit pair for years and years. Just imagine what the two of them got up to together! Using SoHo, MA knows EVERYBODY,, He probably has dirt of EVERYBODY as well! These two, longing for each other’s company and their plans to outwit the backers or make that go rogue, marry baby etc etc. Their continued secret communications, thinking LG had no idea😂😂😂😂🤣. Oh they’re both in a world of hurt, missing their partner in crime, a common phrase but here think a literal meaning!!!

“ No darling, 42 and counting “…

There has long long long been speculation that madam is not and has never been truthful about her real age. MM ANON is telling us 42 and counting so what is her real exact age??? Old as her tongue and a little older than her teeth😂😂😂🤣🤣.

“ since 🎼don’t cry for me …… 🎼 before the gathering of unhappy people old thing”

I put these two clues together because MM ANON started and ended the quotation marks. The song Don’t Cry for Me Argentina is from the musical Evita. It was a film in 1996. Evita the stage version started as a rock musical in 1976, came to the West End in 1978, Andrew Lloyd Webber, the brilliant creator. Let’s do some math 2019 - 1976 mmmm what’s that give us 43! Madam is 43!!!! She was 42 at the gathering of unhappy people!!LIAR CRY FOUL, LEST BE A LIAR!!!

inadmissible but relevant

Evidence, has to be obtained legally or given voluntarily in order for it to be used in court. So what evidence exists that is relevant but inadmissible? Anything subjective, gut feeling, something told under duress, that sort of thing.

“ a brilliant QC”…

To those unfamiliar, in the U.K. and Canada the “Queen’s Counsel”, an honour given to a senior and distinguished barrister in recognition of an outstanding career during Queen Victoria’s reign. K.C. means King’s Counsel. K.C.

In Canada, the honourary title of Queen’s Counsel, or QC, is used to recognize Canadian lawyers for exceptional merit and contribution to the legal profession. These barristers or attorneys/lawyers are responsible for bringing legal cases to court for prosecution. They must need a brilliant one to process the litany of alleged crimes to be charged. I have absolutely no doubt there are many capable and they have alright had decisions made in this regard.

“ a very thick brief📇⚖️“…

A brief is a written legal document used in various legal adversarial systems that is presented to a court arguing why one party to a particular case should prevail. Upon a barrister devolves the duty of taking charge of a case when it comes into court, but all the preliminary work, such as the drawing up of the case, serving papers, marshalling evidence, etc., is performed by a solicitor. The delivery of a brief to counsel gives him authority to act for his client in all matters which the litigation involves.The brief was probably so called from its first being only a copy of the original writ. From wiki. So given the number and brevity of likely charges, one can only begin to imagine the amount of paperwork, evidence , briefs etc etc etc

“as tight as a ducks@$$ under water’ ma’am”

LG and HMTQ in conversation, he is reassuring her, the evidence with corresponding charges is wrapped up solid.Her reply follows below.

“one is reluctant you understand!

She is reluctant to give the official go ahead, with all the unknown reverberations that could occur across the country, the U.K. , the Commonwealth and the globe, especially in light of Brexit. She has so much on her shoulders. Let’s do remember HMTQ in our prayers.🙏🏻🙏🏻

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 24/2019 0605 C

This worked PG….thank you😊❤️❤️❤️

——————

96: Oct 24

💜RESUBMITTING THE RIGHT RIDDLE NOW💜

MM Anon

MM ANON …… six weeks in rehab🤫……… Invictus recovery …… loyally remembered …… unhook the Tender…… burned boats……political ambition …… nutmegs WH moment … sugar queen…… 🎼” When I was young it seemed that life …“🎼 …… The casting of the Runes……” EU-bloody-REKA old thing “…… safe inside WC…… “a strategic move to Winchester 📵”

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 24/2019

1130 hrs CST

six weeks in rehab🤫

Rehab on the dl as the kids used to say. Down low, secretly. The emoji is the shhhh emoji, so it’s information to be kept quiet. So is that what visits to L.A. are now? Rehab? Is it compelled rehab?? She truly does need help, l also think a full medical and psychiatric work-up/assessment would be prudent. A long history of paranoia, people medicate themselves when experiencing psychotic symptoms. Unsure when this will happen. Harry needs family rehab, medical care, therapist but most of all time away from madam, of any appearances with her. Time to recharge his personal batteries, get his mojo back, as MM ANON used the word mojo, the other day!😊

Invictus recovery

Invictus, Harry’s blood sweat and l am certain many tears were the impetus for him creating Invictus. Invictus from the Latin means undefeated or unconquered. It is the perfect word for describing the individuals who are veterans with visible or not visible post war trauma. The next a Invictus Games are you be held at The Hague, The Netherlands in May, 2020. Harry did a quick visit there while madam was having her fauxmegnancy. This organization has helped uncounted veterans and their families, through the games, the camaraderie etc. He has done extremely well and he should be very very proud of helping sooo many including himself!

… loyally remembered November 11/2019, the eleventh hour, the eleventh day of the eleventh month we all or should stop to remain those veterans and those fallen in battle for our freedoms. It is always a day that many attend services, the Royal family always do, they spread out and cover various places. Harry is Colonel-in-Chief of the Army Air Corps (AAC), and as HMTQ Personal Aide-de-Camp. He will be dressed in his dress uniform and likely attend several places. I think it might be especially poignant and painful this year due to the suicide of his close friend, who helped train him for the South Pole adventure, Jules Roberts.

unhook the Tender…

Unhook means to open or take/out down like curtain pins, or bra. Tender can mean gentle, Tender is also money, called legal tender. So who is taking down money and from where for what reason? Tender l just read can also be a battery or electrical charger. As l think now, this may be a right metaphor MM ANON has given. Unhook the tender, at any point you want a spark or a charge it’s ready and waiting! Voila, LG has all the evidence collected, case tight, all i‘S dotted and t’s crossed. Everything ship shape, nothing remotely left to chance, right down to MI6 watching over a Grandpa Tom in Mexico. Kids , it’s as close as it gets, hang on!

burned boats

Burned bridges can be literal actually burning a bridge but it can also mean damage or break your future options, connections,reputation, opportunities, by some act, particularly intentionally. Even if you fired from a job take care not to burn your bridges with unseemly comments on the way out, since you never know who you will meet again. Here we have burned boats, has madam lost any and all contacts in her yachting world, source of money. She very likely has, no one would be interested now, especially wealthy men, they don’t want the obvious scandal that would come if they were seen and perchance she be recognized. The obvious reason is her age, she , as my cousin who has a horse ranch would say, she been ridden hard and put away wet! You must rubdown a horse after riding. She’s aged and not well, her hobbies have really taken their toll.

political ambition

It has been rumoured for quite sometime that madam has political aspirations and even rumoured of her taking a run for the White House where the president of America has his office and home. All l can do is 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣

nutmegs WH moment

Madam met BO when he was President, she was the plus one guest of Ron Burkle , of SoHo. I wonder what on earth she had to do, to get that plus one invite!!!!🤢🤢🤢 Likely nothing she has not done numerous times before!

sugar queen…

Madams cult-like brainwashed ‘fans’ mostly younger and a certain demographic. They, l don’t know why, are called sugars. They worship her she is their queen, they fully believe she should be the next Queen. Since doing these riddles l have, sadly, learned of the ‘urban dictionary’, here is their definition,💜💜” A bisexual male that is stylish and easy to talk to to usually attractive and full of talent and advice 💜💜 A person who supports any and all activities (past, present, and future) done by the former z-list actress and current failure-as-a-royal and by several puns involving the name “Sussex.” Sugars owe their unfortunate allegiance to a number of factors, including (but not limited to) congenitally-low IQ, complete ignorance of etiquette and royal protocol, an excess of entitlement, self-esteem at a level warranted by godhood (with nothing to back it up), and the feeble defenses of “Jealousy!” and “Racist!” when challenged.💜💜 Actually, they are pretty much lower-rent clones of their low-rent diva goddess. I just can’t believe this sorry folks l am as shocked as you will be reading this!! The items between the Purple Hearts are from the urban dictionary!!They have actually MADE UP A WORD JUST FOR MADAM!

🎼” When I was young it seemed that life …“🎼

Life was just for fun… This song, All By Myself, has been covered/performed by many, my favourite being Celine Dion. The song talk about being young, casual sex, flings, and getting older. The entire premise of the song is someone who desperately does not want to be alone and grow old alone. This is our Harry. I won’t repeat his history, relationships, we all know all of it. Once madam is no longer in the picture, incarceration, moved whatever, he will begin the process of figuring out who he is after this experience. He will need a lot of time talking with a professional to help him, his pre-existing depression, PTSD compounded with the trauma of the last two years. He is young, healthy, has a big family who live him dearly. I have hope for him to find his love and have a real family of his own. Now l am going to hav this song in my head all day!

The casting of the Runes

Let’s educate ourselves on what Runes means. Wiki tells me it has several meanings, l am only familiar with it as stones. a letter of an ancient Germanic alphabet, related to the Roman alphabet. Wiki

a mark or letter of mysterious or magic significance.

small stones, pieces of bone, etc., bearing runes, and used as divinatory symbols Casting the Runes“ is a short story written by the English writer M.R. James The story briefly wiki Mr. Edward Dunning is a researcher for the British Museum. At the beginning of the story he has recently reviewed The Truth of Alchemy by a Mr. Karswell, an alchemist and occultist. Afterwards he begins seeing the name John Harrington displayed wherever he goes. He learns that Harrington also reviewed Karswell’s work and died in a freak accident not long after.

Harrington’s brother helps Dunning to discover that Karswell cursed both men by slipping them a piece of paper with some runes on it. They deduce that the curse, once cast, will cause the bearer to die in three months. They track down Karswell a day before the curse is set to kill Dunning and manage to return the runes to him. Karswell dies the next day, killed by a stone that fell from scaffolding around St. Wulfram’s Church in Abbeville.

I couldn’t shorten it and do it justice. So basically madam has cast the runes, a horrible spell on Harry, he has suffered under it through it and his family has been exerting every possible intervention to help him, gather intel and evidence of alleged crimes. There will be justice, it is coming. JUSTICE IS COMING RACHEL!! TICK TOCK 🕰

” EU-bloody-REKA old thing “…

Eureka is what the miners used to shout when they struck gold, oil, diamonds etc. Here MM ANON has written EU-bloody-REKA old thing. They are talking about Brexit and what the nation has been going through ever since the votes came in. Lots is still unknown and everyone is on edge, to put it mildly.

safe inside WC

Safe has at least two meaning, one is to be kept from harm, contented or a metal device or strong box that holds valuables, jewels cash, papers, wills, bonds etc etc. I am certain there is a safe in Windsor Castle ie WC. HMTQ is also safe at WC, there are plenty of RPO’S to protect her from anything and everything. I am very interested in what is the topic MM ANON is sharing with us. What’s in the safe?? Photos, dvd(s), recordings, on and on! Something of importance that’s for certain!

“a strategic move to Winchester 📵”

The emoji indicates blockage of cell phone/mobile device usage. Two places l know of for certain hospitals and prisons. The city of Winchester has both, and they are right across the street from each other. Clever eh? Rehab in one, no outside communication, alone with her thoughts, no hobbies no cope, it’s going to be a personal hell to detox. I’ve seen it many times, it’s horrible. Strategic in terms of containing for personal safety, not harm self, no contact with others, no news or what’s happening in the world etc etc. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦 October 24/2019 1315 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG😊💜💜💜

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ineffably-good · 5 years

Text

Good Omens Fic: Because I missed you (and I like it when you bite)

Summary:

It's never a good idea to let an angel get lonely.

——

This is part one of what is either a two or three part story - more coming very soon I hope! Subscribe here to see chapter two later this week!

Chapter One

It all began because Aziraphale got lonely. It’s never a good idea to let an angel get lonely, but particularly when the angel is Aziraphale. When Aziraphale was lonely, he was prone to making poor decisions, seeking company in the most unsuitable of places, and on one memorable occasion, getting downright dejected.

On the day in question, Aziraphale was startled to receive a rather unusual piece of post – somehow a copy of the periodical Reptiles Enthusiast appeared in his letter box, clearly gone astray from its intended recipient. He would normally have blamed Crowley for somehow fending this missive his way, but he was well aware that Crowley was taking one of his longer-than-usual, once-a-century naps right now, so it couldn’t have been his doing.

But, being at loose ends, the angel sat down to flip through it, ended up getting pulled in to an article about myths and misconceptions about snakes, and was surprised to discover all kinds of things he had not previously known.

Two hours later, having read the entire thing cover to cover two times, Aziraphale headed out on a whim to visit the local pet shop.

Two months prior

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale, I’m just so exhausted,” Crowley moaned one evening as he lounged on the sofa in the shop. “I think I’m going to need to take a nap.”

Aziraphale turned to look closely at his friend. “Well, that’s no problem, my dear – nap away, you don’t have to let me know whenever you want to sleep!”

“No, I don’t mean a nap, I mean a NAP. Like, a been-building-up-for-the-last-few-decades kind of a nap. it might take a while.” Crowley said, looking unsure of himself. “I didn’t want to not let you know this time.”

Ah, that explained things. The last time Crowley had napped for an extended period, he’d slept away most of the 19th century, and Aziraphale, with no forewarning, had been at first worried senseless about what had happened to his friend and then utterly irate with him when the demon returned. Crowley still had to suppress a flinch when thinking about the chilly, angry reaction he got from the angel when he returned. It was months before Aziraphale stopped glaring balefully at him whenever they met.

“Yes, I appreciate that,” Aziraphale said rather shortly, obviously having a flashback of his own to the same experience. He tried to shake off his irritation, but his voice retained a bit of that irritated school marm tone. “How long will you be gone? And – will it be safe? Where will you be? What if Hell comes looking for you again? Have you actually considered any of these things?”

Crowley sat up and tried not to react to the obvious baiting. “I have, actually,” he said. “Not a century, for sure. Might be a – “ he looked down, feeling a little unsure of his reception. “Might be a year.”

“A year!!” Aziraphale exclaimed, wringing his hands. “Oh dear! Must it be so long?”

“Better than the last time,” Crowley said, which the angel had to admit was true. “As for safety, I was thinking – well I thought – you see –”

Aziraphale frowned, concerned. It wasn’t like Crowley to not just spit out his thoughts. “What is it, Crowley? Please just speak your mind.”

“I was wondering if -- well, that is – I thought maybe I could sleep here.”

Aziraphale’s mind went blank, then went in a hundred different directions at once, with three major thoughts arising to the top of the fray. One, he was absurdly touched that the demon wanted to hibernate in his home, that this was his safe place. Two, it was hardly like he used his own bed. As a rule, Aziraphale didn’t sleep, and if he did it was a short nap bent over a book in an arm chair once every few months. He'd never really miss the use of his bedroom, even if it was tied up for a year.

Three, he was surprised by the vulnerability of the request, and by the warm rush it created in him in response. It wasn’t like Crowley to admit that he needed anyone for anything.

He must have been lost in his thoughts for too long, because suddenly Crowley was on his feet and heading for the door. “Nevermind, angel, stupid idea,” he called as he swung out onto the street.

Aziraphale shook his head clear and hurried after him, just in time to catch him by the sleeve as he reached the Bentley.

“My dear,” he said, “I’m sorry! You just took me by surprise.” Crowley turned around to look at him, a raw and miserable look in his eyes. “Truth is – well, I’d be delighted to be your guardian while you sleep!”

Crowley scoffed. “It’s not that I need a guardian, angel,” he said sharply, fooling absolutely no one. “It’s just that you have a softer bed, and it’s warmer here, and - and then you wouldn’t have to come all the way over to the apartment if you wanted to check up on me.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “That’s very thoughtful of you, my friend. Thank you. You’re very welcome to stay.”

And thus it was that a day or two later, Crowley appeared with a pile of thick blankets, mumbled his greetings to Aziraphale, and went upstairs. When the angel checked on him later, he was curled under what must be at least five pounds of blankets, sunglasses on the nightstand, fast asleep.

Aziraphale mentally increased the heat in the bedroom by ten degrees, shut the door quietly, and got on with his day.

It didn’t bother him at first, missing Crowley, because he got such a little buzz of happiness whenever he peeked in on him. Crowley, to his credit, was good at sleep. He napped like the Olympic champion of napping; unaware of anything and everything around him. Aziraphale watched him sleeping more than he probably should, at first, then slowly backed away and tried to bury himself in his books.

He first began to notice that the absence was affecting him when he started talking even more than usual to his books. Aziraphale was always a putterer, always talking to inanimate objects and whispering little loving little comments and endearments to his favorite books and objects, but after a month or two, he noticed he was beginning to have whole, one-sided conversations with his shelves, and sometimes pausing as if expecting them to comment back. He began to frequent his favorite bakeries a little more often, not just stopping in for a quick hello and a bag of goodies to take away, but sitting down at a table to spend an hour or two and chatting with the proprietors in ways he hadn't in many years. As a result, he came to know a truly amazing amount of information about each and every employee's families, friends, academic careers, hobbies, foibles, and dreams. It began to be a bit hard to keep it all straight. Wherever he sought company, he was welcomed with opened arms. But in the end, it was really just not the same.

He had just begun to realize this when the Reptile magazine arrived. And that was when everything went just ever-so-slightly off the rails.

(More soon here)

#good omens fan fiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #idiots in love #never let an angel get too lonely #they just can’t handle it

59 notes · View notes

turuses-blog · 5 years

Text

Space Suede

Space~Suede

}}}}

UUUNNNN

taste

Without spectacle or speculation To disprove either, why this contrite act Of order - wrought twice over now - with patience Is an obedience foreign to lapse… Within perfect solitude and solace that To rend an addict’s said, dictatorship… Oh! in bellows, battling always, lapsed Steering clear of crystals from any hip… Oh! trapped for good in ambient control A wave formation, phalanx, to peruse Notwithstanding ministry! to unfurl Freedom, from nothing in essence. Peruse A’ some chapters’ few, and connect To an indeterminable static.

sallow / pallor

it must be the burnt lemon tree fall upon us solid-crysallids of almondine kiss and please, never let go of this almond fists’ criss-cross lisp to hold boiling fugue it is that the dusky forever’s took a tan gentle shrub enough of a lover’s hug wild at first yet plunging into cupid’s burning lungs o, that sweet passion, to be thy mouth of windless notion… promontory, flora where to end thy’s pursed-when, or begin, what fond of recoil and jettison-nonplus we’ve bout begged to dine at its smouldering tartine plagued with ragged snakes and flame to please for the sakes of this lonely burnt lemon tree I’ll assail all with what the burnt lemon takes to consume

breakneck

the ivy has pigment on the crux of the arch. the sagging arch of ivy’s pass. it used to be a pasture for silent matters and setting an eye-on and detach. i fear yet the ivy grows me down to this domicile. in the atrium for tea. oh i hate making flavored drinks for such a characteristic ship, sewn together by and by leaves. dare i yank it dare i pull, double-dare i uproot it; and tassle with it’s finland barbs… wait does it flower? does it own this home? where does it retreat at night when the lamp post posits chrome * no this ivy has a freedom. almost sent from thy heaven’s aftermath… calculating cold evenings alone, and sunny days for scaffolding craft… *it has the right to my door I guess, yet, I must depart tonight… I wish it wasn’t that easy to spot the lamplight’s goneth out tight a splaying, praying, hinge!, yet amorous as pups, that gild by day, and sleep by night… ’just where to go, least infected, so and so, I had for breakfast… as yet, to, I follow the light trodden path out of this dwarve’s town quite, all the while pretty sure - with baggage, light - I may endure a night made up for sleep, not just the itch of playful ivy. and which it’s poison is though soft, maest expedia is complicated as if gazing on twilling willows, accord perpindicular armed these pillows made by man, i completely can’t understand how it got there, or if it’s coming down, whether or not storm of protest, or friendly nether… I’ve tide us together… with a silent jag… the keystone pocketed by horse… to ride out until yet

serious settlement issue

“oh its just an odd-knocker, this storm.” Praytell forsooth not for teeth clenching prone to roarish brethren. the typeset that abhors onlookers and grave shade yet, whet for grass movements in an erroneous of swivel-floods and tourist. oh and Percival protecting the glass sass root, cellar with ornament and scone (already on hand) “oh it is quite an odd-knocker, this storm.” grassroots do tell of its aberration, the middle of fall. When and where a witch could scold up a cauldron of cabbage and sugar… to melt your eyes, she switches the lever on… yet no flying, nor sabbotage, in the old bottom-smith, glass loot, cellar for pause. “oh its dying down. this storm, what an odd knock.” as I was in teem, miserable-mind-sleeping… the middle of this seeping womb - the steady creaking of antiquated quaking - without cause. and till the water breaks I shall whisper twas an odd-knocking, as if nothing at all. nothing devoid of a forecast for glasses to toss shadows on the floor which soon shall bind all my fastest convex as storm!

peti teach

if it weren’t as bad as it was the shelter would have taken scorned crops to this hearth but snowfall brawn on the spruce young guns - find the children-chimerical toast points everywhere… green pea pods appear! everywhere, just for a few seconds from way up here…looks toyish, wonda’ if it id be a boy’s-wish!I

‘lest ye revolve around a stick! (once again) a kernel of hope! a bravish…with wits, rope and vhs tapes as these oils, and balsamic vinegarette! my choose, you,

the scalding hot crouton, bouillin outside like noodle… the exposures almost ready….! ‘spooky’-A.R. battle for the prestige of having a show to perform, the second night… the sun is a baffling cradle, lullaby magnets to master for when rapheal posee’s

tittilage

a truck stop south of the horizon… three perfect miles tilled in tile and daily tallied, the lapse being ticket to a calm shout-out…I’m ’talkin max shout out

too many at the table...

shelter… pass it around, At least floridian-meritous, pass the dish… thanksgiving gobbs, out his final mouth. “what is this? a poet convention? I’ve heard the cooking from the fridge. “strange postulate…mmm” Jason takes a sweet friccasi… pass the dish… the moon lost its directions, sitting clock-wise, to floridian-merit boasts! lucky guise… pass that dish… and someone reignite this/that candle, oh yet…” the braille-felt ham tasted too-full, aux musing at last “is that ham from the fridge Jason? is already cooked? shelter, why, I will get it…

oh, it has to… bottom of the jar stuck in pretzal’s sobriety… it has to so it can reach the others! the end of the bag, I do say! inquisitive little grasshopper… oh, it has to last… past the two twilights we caught… develop sobriety like a hawk’s bitten chalk… screeching out the taffy just to feel how hops oh, it has to last shorter? why are we backwards like arks? why do we persevere on this quest for the arts? sobriety teams with the green, forensics will catch sight… of a drunkard, with wallabees stationed peruvial at night…. but, might, this door, be friendly? be friendly this door? how can i call my licensure insured? sobriety oh it has to last longer, take a look at this fjord, theres room for candy, Now, I wonder, it’s make! high fortutious exhibition that three some odd twilights i see on television… all requited and paid trick fore, “i keep mine in elastic bands twirling orange fashioned melt-corn-caramel-candy…’ ‘where did i put my sword…’ ‘in fact next year I’ll get the hang of this and cut the corn out’ “bags of melt-caramel-candy” which is what i would frau, to peaceable elements of the nightgown i see crown…” “oh, the door,” “can this last any longer?” the fastest way to sink a tooth into something, valued like sales!, when the aliens embody us, do they where costumes… pouring ale? ‘i sent a message to an alien once, now in closest procedure, it said, nothing like servicing the eccentric and the outfit’s they where, colloquial as procedure!…’ that’s enough flapping your lonely gums, man, the candles are out…yours?

jump

the snowy peat piques under our feet a week to bend around the corner till cumbersome cleets - may! - be whittlin the trees and run, ran, tepid in a gauzy defeat all along the terrace, yet not where whet marks’ from… oh the dance of fall, trance-like snow and inward expansion, that is, from a handsome dole of ears on farmer’s land some mottled and took shape to swindle ransomed territorial foot jerks, root/root-marm type glances - a lot of this would happen the peckish birds in order the final cloud stops to talk the defunkt plough hits its rhythm when they crash into Noah’s Arc

block-q

liquid frozen cherry hearts

“used to plunder, here, pitch” “nitrogen in the gun, a black shark” appointed toward with the pistol ridge. sequential ultra-violet lights hearken

now, aiming at perfect concentric circles a miracle to miss, a martyr scorned at every outer or other disc a lively ancestral adagio of bank clutching triggers affronting notions of hands with gifts on cigarettes, alleviating the end of this type of pistols’ training measure, arriving behind, now, through doors, a field of ace-cards, to score, Since, as all alive, they arrive via assault rifles brought by forklift to the mire

january in code

although they do know hospitality, and efficiency among the dreary… well, since the nurse left, it was sweltering inside the cabin. which forsook the season came early, Good Heavens and when we couldn’t take it at all, we issued out into the ramps of snow as blockade and like beforehand spotted the of tufts tobacco far off, gunfire outlets and discoed merrily gauging, yet gouging our gait…

we still had the ridge around this necropolis half-faced, and as we spread, like butter on a skillet, we lost contact, our breathe no longer visible, plodding on into the flurries laying in graves

possibly still warm, we had moved out earlier than as expected… the extra flattering isometric movements we made were cantankerous. at mortar - we lay along the ridges - a fresh footsteps’ walkway past the trekked banks, still with us. , digging now back, surrounded by snow, towards the cabin, which this bearing clod and snow curtain imposes in testimony to a feverish loan, …before we start freezing, submachine guns on our postuler comprisals’ with whoady-demons hiding in the banks… whoa… I had strong, black coffee in a flask, which acted fast, yet put me at a loss with the frostbite of that cabin drought…

etc

As he gaze past the blinds, blinded by sun and shade, he pulls the chord aperture, at an angle and walks away to the study… Now as some say he makes beautiful sonnets… he to turn on the light to dawn it - these unbelievable inexplicably structured poems, which, in delight - glaze as he flips through; and raise the top right hand corner at the dancing wick to see the roman numeral to expedient light… Waiting to shop for milk and cheese, just to go ‘home… …and count [his] poems.’ again - replete, with pen names and invisible device, catalouge and camoflauge - jagged jarring shadow mare, bleached-Marrakesh, displaying their centre of weight. - just to eventually feed the perishable… Yet so - conceited, fashion to vague response and acquisitions, sometimes wrought - not just with his abundance of makes and modellas - conceited to the even very first time he ridiculously took time to stray from couplets and into: haikus, tankas, couplets, stanzas, coupons, colored leaves, radio jazz limericks, sonnets and shoes, just you-bet that until you read his work, that’s all you hear about, etc…

spot spice

i trot alien to the moon, passive and plausible to make the rise soon… its still early - while she ties her frown in thoughts, laying down - for her. mirth married to tarrier, wincing fairy-gilded to answer the wrought specs ‘in step with the window - the next possible contact swoon so certain and so far away the curtains of fall and May destined to be some other day - the dry champagne - co-ordinates slow - and the clamor, cauterized by locks of snow… until, ray upon ray of thy whetted smile - the merry festoon parlay as he gestures in a hard place… ‘I shall climb this tower, and rescue thee, not since Aesop, hath I believed, that there, a way to contest in speech, win and render this read heir besmirched your fate-meet, to a tender of every mention of my search… to seek. if I don’t climb to Luna, I may not resolve A pageantry for my waking ours’ and roses, in which to impeach.’

sandy welts

I went through there a while ago… it was fun crouching and dodging the trees… pressed to be, at war with the cite pleading-seething, not early enough to sneeze, yet being and in the beating pulse fleer of a rich,slow, (atomized) culture… in a way it felt untouched, I author… yet as i went on it seemed the way was receding towards an uncomfortable nature. First: the crickets’; sharp territorial lacerations, and the grass; against my calves, the smells of raw dirt; sobbing & the static-firecracker chlorophyll, all dashing ample pressure without building moisture, nonplus- with a bark of tree-like controlled temperature, ready as the rain and sun… it was cool, like an artic-submarine, as i wilted my holder’s keep then yet the thinning sun through the vertices’ expenditures clearly dipped to keep what expedience eye to eye… - I had trekked in a straight line so I took an about-face and marched back through…

‘talk about a red forest; passchendale spread dirt worked crescendo in quiet anticipation… scene from fantasies with a clumsy flourist…(stocked to the teeth) possibly enroute to explore the extra toxic mycological experiential plummets of the sport, known around here as half-plums - down-the-road, flash-back driven to protect snails…that’s all to say about it… yet I know they left trails… all waiting beside, an unevenly undulating mossy-short-fringed-shore…

The forrest sweat with me. It was on fire, the sun reached the luminescence cast from mark… on this relief of a march (more a thoroughfare) I couldn’t remember sites or paths or anything except the cyphered boughs… I dare say the leaves (in control) had me trapped, or lesser-oblong, blinded a gigantic swirling record of historians…! twas, more a terrestrian color brigade’s way of choosing way; and off to the sides: hay and what have you on one side, and a hedge high as high buildings envisioned from the fence ‘far off feudal. ‘all it needs is a fashionable mortuary on this plot to clear the woods I say… ‘next to congregational fences therefore, for they say the woods ain’t no normal woods…could be… I don’t frequent forrests too much, but maybe

the cedar incarcerated graveyard to last past wroughten fig draws

the screech of an antique drawer… the ‘screams at night to be extra visible, in the swift wind. almanac worthy, sale-item, pearl-obelisks of miniature mince through acumen fro-whistling. thats it with the fields, yet a myriad of several more super-imposed ghastly victims float through the dying leaves, kicking up dusts and leaf-coupons… I hear the roof belongs to the moon, and the smallest matters’ seek the light…

partridge

a twisted piece of grass in his responsible thumbs. he takes in, and lets out and some crickets jump in. had he known, grass-gowns for licorice, he’d had not blown his cover, oh so covetted as a tomb ground nearby, so surly, metamorphic reprise done under. what with a sandal stepping on top of small hills. ants and moth and flower and soil… best if he heads home the sun seems to be toiling

may weather

the bulbous’ businesses bias is of this hyacinth park - next to a frequency-trip rhododendron mention -parched my upper and hidden tensions of sinuses on a timeprint trip toward the sun. blocking the way a few feverish violets graying on the task ‘afront. ‘ i uncontrollably thought of sneezing, i know just the one… with a muddy print flurring off into the grassiest patches of hatchwork passes… chastised with practices of cold mashed potatoes and born of bread in sandwhiches…just to get past this…

she wore along with a song of the ancients - some climactic recession - that of butterflies and their swift tangential progressions; more than half - by a bit - past suspension… yet hammer’s smith smith moat, floating - to say - and blinking infinitely on a saucer of dismay… what several willows’ pillows at thought to bade, arrays of colorific centrepieces no more than just a bit clay… yet cloisters holsters sprays and sprays… while indeed the worthiest longlash fashions the gray. running away takes more time… i guess

rest

it was like destiny’s letters… cheavauh brawten… myriadical faucet (on) break-up patents, loose jean, palindromatic headdress on the lap of conclave…

‘just building, destroying miracles.. sorry worry-issue, razing glass tubes with the fictitious friction, how so~ felicitous at mention… rented a co-op back to baccyus (too) painted leisurical

praytell

an oriented cat figured its way across my lap and sat ‘correction, with articulation… and that, these

witchy-cat’s-eyes did stare at my frozen-folded slacks of worrisome pseudo turmoil - contingent on witches-cats’ body prompting hyphenetic enfolding upon, yet may not capture, the riding - crumpled - as i got up. and, yet let the yarn of her fretful sorcery fold mercurially into a snow man’s legs…which happened backwards…accidente’ ‘thought i might snatch my in-hand-done papers; plucked like a c string…out and on this same diaspora singular-editions… of which might defribulate a countenance leaving hooks cards’ on door knobs…quo now and forever, and with thinning trim as, whispering spurs dropped that witchy cat into the time-signature of my noumenal greeting prepositions to date, and all anti-slack band fashion - to temper to hands off and on… for instance I grasped the gnomon that i construed out of wrought natural materials, including but not limited to mangoes, caramel and magnesium… shaving the time…~ it wears like glue I had forth created the sheathing effect of its width set, scent, and scoal that is that time and time again cat’s are proven to exist forever… the scary-witch-cat caught up with me at the door harboring a big, black, bubbly cauldron-stir… with a peacemeal glance back at the forth chapter and muttered, just a bit, whetted. the air quickly jetted to phenomenal… what time was it, was it? i left my apothecary, things were looking up! soon to spread the time ah the settlling slug, the maniacal ant reserves the bald men selling rugs and the pills that people deserve… - always awake yet - and feverishly asleep; sleeping all the time away my undulations and motion-derivatives tart in series and sets complexed the fluish tenders of the herrendous heat tarp to act art contradictory veritas minutely and breathe hearty of the daze chalk if thats what is entailed - the job was simple yet met with some combattant like.

- perhaps outside where the cigarettes burn; platonic mnemonic, reindeer begged for antlers cash spent enroute to the spot, most of it traditional cat’s telephone machine… who knows?

a semi-efficient compromise of plexiglass scratch flat - the vivid pock marks of the projector, which’s capacity was quite muddled. and the cat had it (either way) yet the cat call worked the cat, santa claus, some other big names… kicked a freestyle session, pretty dope stuff. for instance… “i bring you presence” that guy has way too much time on his hands.

Houndstooth is soundproof

1. quay

1.tell everyone, the basement’s done flooding…

1.my house, a crumb within a flute sharps of embankments

1.patients testing lesser things for flooding or dried fish

1.“you’ll have yours”

1.“its windy outside”

1.the basement is whetted while i rinse through blades and shower my facial

1.while spirits sink from the comforter - morse code balancing, with this art

1.blinking, blinking, blinking…

1.stridents

1.0

1.kneedeep

1.‘back in the day, when i was young, i’m not a kid anymore’

1.bliss crystals sift through stealth, miss you ‘xoxox’

1.plagarize dexterity for another half-surmised

1.blur of the edges insofar fit for a fistful of life, twitch, came short and sought wife-

1.Those, curious pledges to deltoids, the -esiuz of the ledger

1.blasting surfeit in two lasting past the forth, fortnight eclipse…

1.you get to fight; aside a private glass of modern man’s ant-hill

1.some tvo granted chain of command through the grass blades,

1.sit, fantasy, break, elven toxicology…speak worldly through a spasm i once had…

1.no doubt it would wash away in mineral deposits, so accursedly shallow…

1.pressur

1.patches, on delt’s quay -

1.milk and chips…

1.chocolate on the mint press procedural stress

1.need so many…

1.tell me about it,

1.abdicate

deltoid

i fell into a double-pronged - gift - marriot of song. play flacons fillial fish bladed oblong…merro sketched on sever audacity (semblance) with a crew-dillitant - as if fading hair to a nightmare of irrevocable capacity, to grow there…

poppin off, lots of toss, to the clouds though, the floss (ignoring bliss?) which topped my chart, on my single hit-or-miss mark… flakes of gentle seabass, of which it wash… bark bark!

seriously took a reel in to exist…

chalk melted and bladed the number’s drawn on a pheonix,

of which was sent to bring her flowers? can you believe that, ‘girls in the shower’

metabolizing her voice, rainy day style opaque sky? cast me a derivative - oh ‘that.

coy, built, fahrenheit height, instant passion

the bastings

it truly is beautiful,

which does not

for some instance, at insinuating loss

most of all, the givance-

of tectonic call & calf

which tends to break ocean’s in full yet in half…

mildly tending an impish flame,

the fire texture, fixed-ie-feeling pane

and a flame, for all - yet the forth!

a myriad of haggus or something borne

blurring ant mimic in god’s resin - like an earthworm

a notable fishhook… scraggled into my salmon… my salmon; port.

in don quiote’s fashion he swam on land, like a sailor; port.

a wednesday never came faster in the history’s of monday; though I don’t calm thence…

and an umbrella-spider taut, taught me spider-lingo: i was like, one cheese order…

a peacable reason to deal with whilst vacant… perhaps a book caught the fish, caught the grip, caught the sights, hit the port

2. waltz

2.oh willow, play me crazy, breeze by my censorship on your trip up to a bird’s eye-spicate-spies-especially-willow in my eyes…

2.with each farther and ruse planted to ferment the lurch of dues, of perfect clot and tie, why don’t you turn to the appeasement of the highest skies in you

2.they say

2.be forth written and climactic, aimed at with telephones, tilled derision, still precision, still precision and make marks sifting shifting sniffling, to , to mother, to bride bring down your own centre and break the sky… ive been there, many times

2.what will open the dice face, for miser, in fact, ive never seen a bead of it’s echo the perpetration of a perpindicular tie.

2.start first and end where you began in fact, delineate between a restitution that each petal will latch; yet closest, the fountain needs tract, spritz and follow ornate heaven’s grasp…

2.blasphemy bounded and gave you a match!

2.… pluck a further moment with the lass, who brought sew… she writes, willow, oh you breezy, easy going, so-so.

2.response edition 2

2.s’matter o’dillitant to the number 2

2.catoring brevity points for instant revery’ dilute with two thirds hair and rose…

2.i spose i could check the bars again,

2.mine would be “diaspora co-lect’ my favorite make to model, yet i have one lingering rose point, stemming off and finding water in …well

2.i just walked from here to tim hortons three times in 3 hours, thats prosaic dystolic for a fortress made of forgotten lure…

2.tho’ yo’ spoiler, which stands accrued such as more luke warm cadmium.

2.playin safe here, the number, the winter, you forgot about me… iced percentages, that may melt

2.no edit

2.‘past the point of g hosts’, a dendria lantern for my soul *i press the tip of clasp-broken oration to extend my thumb like a chapter, in the book of yet to put down (robert frost, selected poems) it moved my lighter into a rolled lighter, and right now i was ignorant of the place, where I watched, and what i’ve got. blink

2.20 fast minutes clocked a wall of brick to assail my placard heart, hearing art - and arabic insinuendoes… mesmerized by chalk…when? my knee placed my whole shoe, yet built with the shock, destitute rhythms i misused… i did not want to die, fore my word, lifts strong, then or now a peacable remission into what i thought cool lingo for was ‘friction’… and i stuffed my pecan dish with egyptian ecstacy bliss crystals’ remarks… plark, quarked down and through the nicest police car parlor with talk of being stopped. and there i was for 3minutes i was responsible for, divining my belief in stop…so awake… so awake… the ghosts sought a magistrate… i told my sister of mummy-eating practises in Egypt.. what saved me was television’s widest spectrumx2 tv… on TVO…. i i, and today, more subtle it was Ron Burgundy 2…

2.for the record, i prefer articulation to humour 4 times out of 5

2.double minks

2.the pharoah decreed: we shall not stop, till, there is a top… and with lightening fast reflexes Albert Camus later recites loop and/or ladder building as a mechanism distributed by mountains and rocks… that lead to an uphill battle, all around - yet more importantly - he with the thalidomide predominantly scare out the bliss that’s inside of us, mark, he felt the only logically question is…

2.the pharoah walkled up to the ledge of his honour and a hissing snake caught his attention - waltzing primarily in its unyarned crinkle, and shushed it with great calamity… oh what a great calamity it was. and so, he, was, rejoiced~

2.the outsider l’etranger, excites a little snake into the forces of egyptian solitude, at a reasonable price…

a list of treason

a single wrinkle on the rose petal, arose such suspicion, roses’ thorn’d build failed to permeate…

a paschendale of artifact magic cards crinkled in the pack age… in jumps a soldat- of basketball-talent!

left remission for the hard-wood floors,

a list of treason

—-bleek bloom

watching the 9:10pm its darker than most, clouded thou drought. thought-catching

a misty 9:30pm, conceptualized way far for enough backings baccus flow like foam,

a wooded section of way back.

attaching to too petals, square like a orchid-skin-electric game-docket…

3. russians

3.braille she dots furtive longeurs parting…

3.into a frosted flute

3.braking and entering into the fury of a jazzman’s jazzhand

3.which came with a breathe of fury…. wasn’t, chapped-so

3.quite why i had a myriad of worry

3.so surly to surely moresal-piece wear and tear the lury,

3.whilst penury from pencil tip equitable myriads of lury… into

3.questing for a stop-end bureau or bearer… to bust open the dirty, six-piece cylinder making shift shift shift shaft and lury…

3.and spin

3.a sizeable gap of educative dually provocative slurry, of a book!

3.and rampart the ignitable fruition of a head(strong) blasphemy out of order..

3.departed… roman,

3.arrived… prosaic,

3.middleman… Proxy,

3.-to the cause,

3.and manage the intern, pattern-stripped clasp of a low-riding pair of jeans’ilk

3.bludgeoned to malady, (my lady, my silk) myriad….

3.rare wilting sun of the sun… run with me, ‘till i see the pageantry, build… let alone a quill, that does

stacked mind

i battled minutely and broke the index chapter-area-rearish and pristene in itself; that is an arrangment cloaked within a book’s barriers thinner than the thick letter-plaque, laced and unthinned; it didn’t get me down so much as to renew it, in fact, it seems like its gaining worth, like precious candy, i don’t know, obviously there is a worthier cause to incur growth, yet, none as sweet.

oh the smell - elemi - delicatesans’ sanitation with food… green, mini blade thickets…. ie. take some brick laying liasons… how meddlesome…and obstruct passage in libraries - and those the thought.

turuses

oh its like we are entitled

to every fabric across from this foliage, even the varying fabrige undergrowth wrought of this, a mason's fable, nightmare or shovel

catch us

tracking a whirlwind of pollen as dust onto available petals

and i wonder, if any cross-pollinated beeless…

and that bugle’s horn is to die for

submissive in pledges to and fro, discerning incoming autos

________

turuses

wrags

many…pennies-weight, within the jurisdiction of an edicette known to falter, pre-empts, plausible postulates of which, from all but one can hitherto alter. and yes you or you may have pennies for all the angles of a pressed coin, yet, emblazoning idols with them spastically hurdled through the air in one show of robust emblazoning, does not yield it’s capacity to promote growth against time. and against time is supremacy I guess forthwidth the renegade that it is… whatever bevels it connects eventually in surplus determines the surface of the moment a wrecking ball broke through; entrepreneurial, sadistic. Neitzsche’s “atavism” clocking in….

a direct line of command somehow got contraband…

r.i.p.

4. herbs.

4.a well, felt next to the smooth-shop, and rainwater doused it from time to time.

4.it fell upon the worthiest of the town, to stop and take some time.

4.at once one day,

4.a coin did break,

4.the surface of the water…

4.and just on time - or the clock that authored - it was surfeit with tea and proper.

super

cajolery

blazon, directory from the mashed out

maison, perfunctory list watchers, flout…

grazin’ perfunctory wist latchers, gout…

break the beak or break bread? i mean, what is the dire mutation doing now?

safety

on a samosa of a backwards warpath, petty - perhaps pedestrian - recall from the HQ led Preston into the net structure and pronds of the opposite of oblivion, ‘eh sos goes for us all… by that mark…. engagement where, in the microscopic-frothing-tangiblity experiment-ecosystem, the variety of decedent in ‘sublimated level 3″ unknown section to requisition note biene , ‘a new verse of well-crystalized piety was tinging for recall as those Mills marbled the petrie-centre. some powder, of, magnesium, later; the very small, yet informed hallo-wentrepreneur took just under full form…element 7.5 tacked to his right wrist band with insignia from some government chap, beside~ it

before much, and before long, the thing surprisedly formed around one side of the dish and taut predictable effervescence… again, more much, same long. as it stands, a hatching period known to the subdivision failed to mention or document that this was subservience of the…device!? willing to form - and that it was taking shaped around the slight, circular concave that- thinning?-turning to water? which was growing in uniform metabolism… like the focal prism scratch on the refracted index… element 7.5, has been recalled, ad diminue’ pro quo, and as deciduous’ are pronounced, tangled - appropriately - into the vacuumed perforations of the topiary inert proficiency of shell-like…larger than usual octopus vessels…

str

beyond progress within the computer mainframe and it’s strictly-digital capacity to preface backing up several attempts to testify - these as experienced coherent hackers - sent a rumikab of articles (known as an infinitely singular testament) wheeled light… gyro-cryptic, ‘shells, had a light disco sliding through the avenue fresh with baking soda and drink… blotches of small resisters; which accounted for the eerie glow, tilt-pink. i pieced together the sata and its particle party-favour cable… instant spring…

stand tall

placid it sits; a remonstrance, in the midst… of what-is-it? that of where the best cherry blossom hath splits… cider says hard: its the pits, the fits, the ritz russet-dark cherry molasses tis’ it for a list of super nintendo-binding dualisms to exist,, so jinxed…ummm it would take minxs to douse themselves - and we’ve two shots at this… quick, as a back up, before a tail up, yet ipso-facto… elastic like that of dopamine to endorphins perhaps yet the cherries ferry chariots and arrive in focal piety…the pits, again! we sit with the cherries across the fence. to climb, to the condensation-swine-rhetoric, sits… uhh, blimp? clenched like a rinsed hand, i grab the retrograding-officiated root, and route my right foot for the first elbow of a live one… pinching 2 bundles of hoodlum-ante and jump down and then to eat them… the cabbage-like puncture, to just graze the centre, piece, tincture of light vinegar…. and He’s cleaning the eavestrough for another… on second chomp, a brandish of sheer pheromone, thigh… spots a ladder to the shed and fro… before i brandish another, i’ll throw the rest in my pockets to rest - professed to cherish! yes, they’re unbreakable… —————hey you, where’d you get those… like he didn’t know?

eucalyptus

I”ve gots a shallow for-aloe, wound, wound from malpractise already,

my atlas stabbed my marble backward ‘back gammon theism, with warding capabilities crestfallen to thee tree, and it’s galvanized antissory film decay’a’wedding with the moisture involved in distraught dust and underage car… my first wishes was to dish wash the woven bovine roving of a uut disorganizing pallete entrepreneur in sevens… yet when i arrived tango, it was obviously a “jericho” moment, and i clicked the six six six… my emblem was duty; payed.

(mind on plinko, straight shooter on the hip) -turuses which has x2 paved the way for an astral projection that’ll guide me into the centre of the known solistice - forever just a teem - to deserve uut zero inert… inertia to a rotisserie clocked, rocketflag tango. Bounced that check ‘thralled, in specs. flekked one gold - the army stock in check, slivered to the dentist cuz i swallowed a praying mantis- at best and was the width of elastic band with working man’s best specs… perhaps>>> might need to run through a bit more radial arguments in the past; to, durst, deposit seriousness in my clay-abiding ipso-nouns, pro-abiding, to send in my resume of duality when it comes to rooting out clowns! thanks for the lovely slug you set loose on my concrete slab… x

Set’till

contralto vivified in plurality reign to indict the heart ache of such departure sparks in-dissent the friction of smart boxing, in three fold. a diorama

from

the pandering window, maybe the soda water crystals aside at my desk. Sometimes its good to hear about perfect leisure, when the legions are brass-steel self-alleged

i use to be quite a pro with pencil-spinning, and its strictly from my heart, the art that begins with pencil-rinsing… oh, i gave mechanical pencils something to believe in. doesn’t matter, twas a glorious match up of mechanical pencils, and spinning them, that i partook in. clad in an unsharpened… no question…

bark

a larger than normal tarantula poised to eat a small tree outside the restrictive park area came to the conclusion that, if he had studied medicine, he might have enjoyed eating sooner.

who knows?

title wave

darling loss, providing hosts with mothballs, independent of cause… the objection of walls corrects its paucity - dash costs… and in betrothal of sauces, paints - if thats what you call them - a dish, is left… cold fish… best viewed with a hook

its all wrong, maudlin fathoms, deep brilliant eyes of squid… the watch of witches in the crow’s nest, explode, then make fire for fish

the ice has originally melted - that, thin straw stout route to two too nihilist dire platforms of the underaffected that are down for precedence, that be: ignorance, either side of the fence with indescribable turmoil already, or even just because of the actions which seem impossible; and a strict mouthpiece, within limited to authority, via sanctioning and the underfunded promises therein… yet… as Mephistopheles has it, logic lasts till the last sentence… and the USA is in jeopardy

order some CATs to skulk around and sit and dig

tunnels to offshore…? trenches from spawn fly some jets in there if it helps with aerial footage perhaps isolates of pressure. ie. lots of liquid nitrogen! & even some type of bomb….. i know, bomb a hurricane w/ convoys of concrete trucks and/or logs

yet my venture permits both lines of caring to be merry, i was ready to say fish may need to swim onland for some reason and no that doesn’t help anybody, studying where fish are during so might be beneficial…same thing with people…helicopters!

makeshift trailer bridges? leaving taps on? gtfo of there? the final clue is: where would you like to live? and, the answer: florida

bitter stasis

why is it the sand gold? speakth before’n to see the moulds: grazing iguanas claim, climb, clad the folds, where ‘ and all the little pharoah scald with drolery- it must be the summer-line, crossing into the spill, long-horn, to horn, to horn exploding instruments turn to soil and nefarious- deltoids rest in summer-line wrest,

and as I am for ease of etching…sorry, possibly just saw a necklace-peice of a pendent permeate itself into an anubis coat- of- strictly fashionable-that-some-green, which as the light accustom brown-pouting was incandescent at best, maximized i, its deliverance as a frosted-scarab… motionless, iceberg of fabric from the mathematical subscriptions limited upon brick face, to seize armiture as one and one, yet but not captured… either purpose or meaning… tbc

pick me up twice

that and a night drought came in with a robust, roving massive darkness; across spanning over the minute divits of thunder clods, over this land gratefully, without its gander of low pressure; finally welcomed where the lakefront promenade - municipality to mine own - met the lake. i heightened up and spritzed the window to a cramp. like i say its not everyday one can live among confused feathers and disco lamps. i sped to my notebook and sketched the nuthatch i saw dabbling the air - like my vision was relegated to all and/or most of the movement in the bands - of sleevefilled horizon lines and the figurines. the hedges here to there, the short paved escape, the trees; flanked so-on forever, and the firmament. yet it moved fast, twas twice as vast, iconoclast clear skies bank where aroused was a shaky 5pm red sun- only visible now and so-where, a wind picked up and doused the downed whiskey rinsing through some impossibly pretentious banter, along the shore.

diagonally

it hasn’t even been a lock since my prized synced sundial ammended even blacksmith’s blind… the twilight hour… a still rather elliptical - outfit of my lot’s labor had I could sense turning a final austerity and gently top-heavy field gamon alotting that which continues moderate growth without locusts. at first its like watching a fire, then they settle down around 4:00am. but thats neither here nor there. unless you count the visits I get from Samson I get at all hours. and here we shall share him odd on envoy particular. reticent, self-evident.. my weather vane was drowsy so and so… wishing it could give me a clear patch as a black horse stamped with rider and pulled up… at the hour of 10:00pm Thelma made him a scarlet blend of herbal tea, I the same. Upon courtesy I seated him in my study and we both had at some fresh lemon tobacco. “how are the yellow and red water?” “fresh coal, have you another blend?” “why yes.” I fetched a Drumson Wood and asked Samson, “how long will you stay?” “Oh, just on my way back from town.” Samson took out a newsprint partially twisted in his back over-all pocket. “I’m gonna lay it straight for those aliens.” “…The crop circle people?… they seem vengeful and organized…” “More Drumson Wood, and I’ll just finish this tea here. I say, a price on their heads…” Samson pulled out the page, “seems a group of people do the circles too in order to show the ‘aliens’ we are intelligent too, near the back, smaller part of the publisher, called locustfocus.” “Why that’s as clever as it sounds.” “it says here we’ve seen the last of them this season, or they’re spreading, ready to ground.” “so what am I to do? What are we to do?” “stay vigilant. drink tea. in the extra fine print it says they are a judgement call, a reflection tranmorgified, a mirror as transition through life can only manage, all run by those who use livestock, those who value life.

onew one

its so noiseless that i ask you nobody knows this if i left without a trace to let loose my face,

existence, would start with thee last left bashful eyelash by alibi that to leech around a winding hill of coal at rest and, yet when abreast two fifths fine grass, and a wine glass, broke at home

finishing with an invisible penny for twisting, an oasis reminding me that im out one seashells finding colored beigh with patina of five sevenths temple displacement that striking up on mine own binds of

where my eye is a filament for the engrossment of ‘those’ others - skeptically close- but don’t you know you were never one to run away, from the salted roads

hey cold warm 2

I was on the brink of falling asleep, late and complacent on the couch in the front - for once one floor above the basement. My eyes slightly jumped open now and then, revealing - honestly - the life that played with myself and the scene… Decorations abounding around the walls and shadows from all that was seen. On one extended viewing of the partially lit walls covertly at the door - the indigo ceiling melting into normal orders - did buckle and remotely douse me with ubiquity and order of operations to discretion in architecture, the culpability of movement arrayed. my blanket in disarray - knit and white - became a sleeper’s foyle as it reigned on me as ordinary occurence; yet this, I was deeper.

why yes, the blocks of ceiling, my ballast; window and furniture, shifted, all to make something, something I either slept through or woke up suddenly into subriety - and had come about from all my condescension, with an expedient opt to reassign the ceiling to whatever it was. That know I knotted locales and a opaque ceiling.

My eyes began doubting the stillness, several times. My best guess was a moving candle operative, of fairy or pixie dissent, ushering me into the basement through the vent… the comfort from the blanket growing exponentially, I jarred my eyes, feigning fright. at which the ceiling came bearing down on me and started a lament for the rug in front of the door… I swear I wanted to move; somehow I just knew I was not in the malady of a malevolent being, perhaps just proverbially and most likely - an impish flame rekindling from closed eyes’ near blind, and sallow angles reshaping…

I had been in this purgatory gearbox, for an hour or two… I waited for the birds to chirp. when the candle went out… it was now well-past midnight hour and I lay in the darkness, comfortable, yet partial to wakefulness. I lit another candle… the indigo folds, the impish flame, the blanket, all the same

There it was… the first bird chriping like a lovely siren.f

hey cold warm

a brazen on the barometric deep in the throat of recognition, plumes in loose flute position, angled a slolom solemn, so-seam - so-so - slotting into my lower chest, such as do dotted candy strips and just as memorable as the swindle mentioned specifically its the purple opal octagonal-pointed and the brunt cindrous dazzling cinammon my eyes yet its dark

arising phase I flew on land, a kite that racked from a bird’s nest in the clouds… angels… swiftly upon me eleven albatrosses came down I"m like, “where’s the waitress?” once as was thought, I throttled the full-armor-car-aft-facade on quickwork-flat blatant dune backing up to pull the chord down “all this from from the former backseat the lower order keeping distracted with menial attempts at diction drifting through the world, there she was, she cast a thoroughfare glistening aura, beside - on the board walk

Guage of an arrow, splinted roughhousing nothing more to climb, cherries full and waiting - and flagstone, drops in x. waiting for labels

razings’ dreams drifting through the world… heralding minutely, and casually on a mini skateboard, albatross full foyle ~ about. most - some pure coasting,.., buoyantly why I mean Cinderella had some natural artifice actually restricting limitation the wake of sheer wind, her able lateral shark of compute, which limiting more but hair it just comes to some things thats shes just into and really, across, where onto the window my reflection plucked my core,

the flagstone remorse. searching distance.

"check them, check them.” the limits that attest to, ward, all those feesible mentions… in both edges of a carrion dispositions of regret now, now… I’ve pent the stencils to be filled in and over with ink, the nets can’t even capture prize still frames to sync can’t even think in the now its so quick - the odd neglect cubism tares cares to fasten - yet? so - so finish quick

~moon cycle had i

it gets predictable the miserable the madness talent and those who wrap the falcon’s beak around and break the brow from beaten artists, (going )far'n finite for marbles quark, florid fauna, fond of a final fantasies for real, just how those are where those naught (reached…) phantoms lanterns saturn asprin a symposium where shadows’ riot for platony, create a credenza of its spectrum, a two-something measure of disparity insofar as he who was brought pox inequal pressed-to silhouettes of rockness frets, yes, sir, thats rounded-edges-talk of fast-misery wave-technology all-so spaced out like emaciated chocolate or space cadets… spying loch ness even the uneven

!54 104

as will lace’d rivulets of feathers felt into italic line, become barbarous against a feverish fire where no friction echoes of finite time perhaps already forgotten there own make marking burning - like this very poke - spokes of wind super-tropical winnding and,

nothing but glorious ignition as soon as bent backwards…to the ground, from the grind, as iconic rivulets of home break apart the hands… and posit… pheonix seeds, brought to term in ff7 to plant and plead with reality sometimes…

130

to sew the wounds up… my hand to play the part of spoon, hook, ransacking tolerance. I, with swoon in hand and maudelin talent even if i make a pamphlet on benelovent rancor, someone’s prediliction might ignore the horseshoe plants still stiff as to lay on my to-do list as one thing to hand out once its… in print and then wander into the abyss. till vastness becomes iconoclastic and I last this matress out till its endoplasmic reticulum becomes a magnet, and then on until it fractures, and polarity shifts, do it all backwards, with stronger magnets

farther into the w

breaking broke stuff that’ that satellites back-up flashes that sound as diamond scratches on doctor’s recommendations I vaccine some dollar bills for entertainment crystals - thats non-nickel-cadmium adjacent the cinema with her

just flashin’ against the line

I broke through the borrowed past, presented myself - bounced on calves… neck nexus to the side panorama first strident, an attack secondly merely contender ballast dear hearts with the task of fast or faster.

assured,

entry 3

Journal Entries in Blood Part three I went out to the market at midnight tonight, just to look around. A howling the other day made me think there might be a stray dog or wolf or something. I could probably train a wolf couldn’t I? The shop was dim though the neon open sign still cycled, coupled with metal bars and the lock, I somehow found my way home, and then it was… a howling, not of wolf, but of upset life or wind. It grew closer with another, then it stopped. My eyes were out like a dog, not a wolf, surveying the area for something other than leaves twisting attached to branches. I started my way home, a different way this time, I ate my trailmix and made safely to this attachment. It is nearly waking hour, and there it is again.

new new 1

i reckon there was a coast about 20 seconds ago, the earth drops’ moon cycle

i left without a trace to let loose my face, by alibi that to leech around a wind of fine grass, a wine glass, broke at home reminds that im out one seashells find that striking up on mine own binds of my suitcase working my shovel into an ovendouble shift one for mistakes, one for muscle… and one for miscellanious my find was called a jarhead and was for strictly pure profit in the warbly march sand and soil at this time of night

yes, yes here, where fleeting doesn’t cost - anything - except the loss of a waist here and there, below the flaying gargoyles which embed one’s soul lies some treble conspiracy quo and today in cue stone, turnt to evening fire cutters, even welcomed evening grace, and i don’t see it happening any other way

little foggy, like always probably won’t rain, but i’ll jog if it gets on me… twenty past a single digit, and drunk mates had made a religion to stop me… not on my map, they don’t even know where i live systems down, this was hardly… what you would get out of me.. like always i shutter and i see a zombie, it’’s me

new new 2

i reckon there was a coast about out and abrupt up about 20 seconds ago, the earth drops’ moon cycle had it different

on land. oh how! docking reminds that im out one seashell - my first boat - and up around $1000 each toss of the new one. for that striking up on mine own binds - of my bane suitcase - working my shovel into an ovendouble shift one for mistakes, one for muscle… and one for miscellanious a net growth my find was called a jarhead and was for strictly pure profit in the warbly march sand and soil at this time of night ‘that in treasures found scintillating matches, sparks, and clods

little foggy, like always probably won’t rain, but i’ll jog if it gets on me… twenty past a single digit, and drunk mates had made a religion to stop me… not on my map… they don’t even know where i live systems down, this was hardly his heart, always bound… what you would get out of me.. like always i shutter and i see a zombie, it’’s me

one one

its so noiseless that i ask you nobody knows this if i left without a trace to let loose my face,

existence, would start with thee last left bashful eyelash by alibi that to leech around a winding hill of coal at rest and, yet when abreast two fifths fine grass, and a wine glass, broke at home

where my eye is a filament for the engrossment of ‘those’ others - skeptically close- but don’t you know you were never one to run away, from the salted roads

zrunning

just flashin’ against the line

I lick my pen against the flower to appear chic yet damage nothing… How subject - of abstraction - forms torque on normally debatable craft ending, mending within art’s perametre; thus stated reverence, may exceed instead of submit to vision - though limited - image which is contrary in most cases, hitherto where this percent of contraction may hold true in reverse for cubism garullously settling upon it’s true form…

sober slurry

a puzzling equivalent - unto which i know of at very least twofold - habilitated itself with my side order of large onion rings…to go was and will be, cheddar jalapeno dip, oh, and a bottle of soda, a small pricey one… it seems these were on side as i gazed at the game sippin on my gazzeiu, that of the way over yonder to the other half of the staggering petition to heresay glee club mods who say no and who’d attribute new age convention with extremely age’d tradition… bless them. and their future seeds

nor zeus, nor he be the king of wizards, and poseidon - damned to eat plankton, that i relish eating wagon wheel cookies

—

turuses

curiously appetizing

I passed the telephone company’s brick building on the way back (like always) and like always it caught my glance (and probably, properly stored my electrolytes’ dot product in it’s heaving face)

I couldn’t fit inside the telephone machine building. for some reason, the telephone, had it in for me! yet, after 3 hours i sit by it’s ‘therefore’, wondering… why i must get inside this telephone.

soma

a riddle what starts with a middle four fretting that is, not ice cream, yet just as meddlesome when together between them specimens vary very robust, that is when not brushed… you can pick it up some say you can master it, some do as a clutch rapport, and clash together, with so much but sport. some think silence can take hold of the being… calming astronauts and marrying marigold flocks all abandoning the forge of earthly locks… consuming this tug of war with this rebel heart

destined for back pane, yet strained resonating with two thumbs on next whatever that may mean its suspect to a violence sometimes only ascribed to in old folks home, where the bloods been beaten hot and that

outer space

fare long freight to dim dimensions rate penchants whilst trenches, in… a way.. never saw them coming yet hospitals frost the tips fitness and fair stipulation lips conjugation of list - equivalent - while separation wiles, stat-wiley over intact, nothing - like platitudes dilution of concrete blocks add attitude yet painful memories by diminished blocks are subdued?

wool

Oh, it’s certain… hundred-thousand militant measures of a broken yard by metre (estranged for the reader) a meteor shower amends the broken pleasures of such a Neapolitan attack on the criticism for the cynicism had me open! Yes, oh my… plenty coin-like credit-card-scam-brilliance, sign the marks on my frail, weathered effacement into a blithering commensurate, yet forever emblematic union of staccato! The moon, was following me yet, and As I had sprained my ankle, I were had to, run over roots, scurry past pledges, that with a fluid limp-jump… mildly hopping over tracks, which my upper-back, caught on to splayed roots on the ground… as to be seen, wildly kicking up the scarce twig and twixt, ‘and anon: oxygen millennials - when and where necessary my powers of narration became anaesthetised and somehow configured itself somewhat, that into an old VHS tape conception format. After a little tracking the odour of odium prices on wolf masks with that plastic diffraction slips And the moon by the window, cocked it’s wonder-gun at me, Pleasure of unthinkable amounts, resting in negative, all conceived

v.1 “lemon tree”, postaged bout 10 days, (lemon-earth days)

sallow / pallor

dendrose

1 this is for that usury,

used to be awake, censorship encumbered-package, usually~ Asleep, clad in yesterday’s haze, beep, beep, beep first to rise, which just happens to be a phase… 6, clock, spearmint 6:15, cries. 2 identical clock cavities, brustlin’ busts of oven-cannot, trallop suites… I’ve officially dye-cast silver from coin to sweat, wheat and parametres, of which i’ve never spoke! 3 down by the second leap of day’s scales, the moon’s lymph tickle, play trick on the sicler… ‘say Death creeps out like how it does North Farther… ‘say don’t be scared of the ion, curtain, cascades… they say they break soon enough, that is as the iris tissue combusts!

4 and the parliament in laymens, rise like spite, muscly, and whelk; totally combobulated enough to qualify for thalidomide and seeing wealth. documents privvy to a living type of surrepititious musical scale.

5 around noon, the shops are broken into, the salad’s tossed, the forks, mashed in the gravy… without the sauce… stocktips holdfast like plateaus - how pleasant - bout the size of a yogurt… rain flares out of specifics… and barbers, leave there parlors… cars park - forward and backwards! 6 round about now the static combs diagonals, slate and tie, like an Egyptian wedding order for two, who killed you, and how you survived… 7 soon enough one must become one, and it always may… if i had to I would pat your heart a lullaby in your mummified chestplate just to be certain that I could breathe ~somehow.

8 its safe now for the mystriant, or the leader clad in torn bloody clothes in plain deniable site… to march upon the moons tumultuous creators, now maybe high noon all night.

just x 3

(bystand…)s are outnumbered by and yet while the juri is in… weather the atmosphere is tight enough, expediant and gruesome for the sudden fog! !oh what a sudden fog! plus, the lust for cummulative lush and hush, of, flesh, rut rooted room for relish, oh, im out of legalities to logician’s flexfit fever, ferver-fluish… “rabbitfoot-talisman” and, that they are

at least for now and sheesh I couldn’t count all these…

maudlin, vaudvillian pleats and hill battling in fleets, bleeding the tattle, in thieving the leaves, as this somehow presents itself, in a waltz within the season -

whilst, some reassuring sequence that thy betwixt bane and bosom, slaying, and slalom straight, out the demonic cellar of Helen Keller, ~looking for a piece of plastic - bendy, black - whilst sweating through tissues as would molasses !oh quite reluctant~

just to envelop the feasting concept in enamel-persona, that, “looks”, could be a snug fit as slang for glasses!oh

well, no match for shelves or sleeves in it among mashed-out color additives, “Madvillain” - trapped like tylenol packages… just too, pry that thing off my sling, slang sugar rifle, .35s to just need to carry this for triflin’ broken-oxen+wrought-trophy, a token for the inert.

marching through the swampy mud

balm

~a drag with bisquick, mistaken. a martyr broken, out spoken a pledge ‘though,’ mystics saw - in blind pageant - that it had been coming, the change in self / perpetual melting (maybe even wealth and static (theduality ))(- of practise expedient…) patient momentum quite like: eddies now, that tend to slop up off with the the prophets.’ toxicity and all textures on hand! mesmerism-synthesizing-metabolic, clox “A tall tail of uncommon fixtures to abed the solstice!” Ail uncommon Oxbridge- flyers…

who! ~ never saw this it coming - it, being. antithesizing avec beau shashay - passing by -round noon -,a slash a dash of anti-septic aid from the atmospheric changes )oh what a terrible 1 haiku ) 2 cacoon cannot forget the forfeit with a timurus attendant addendum of excess lemonade, -the patchy landing on cobblestones as a final order of direct ability to access sweet lemon merange pie! so cold! slay the dragon Oh, how moylent whoa, whoa, whoa dragon wings circled, moving more tweaked than lofty, that the shady concentric, crown-ambulent missletoe fleers stocatto flamed resisting arrest, sat down to rest on the ashy rooty charred bark deposit, chalk outline and all. And he seemed to pout, resting in his petulance, all on final penguin-feat exhuming the fallen lemon tree + roots Why? The sky - a death sentence, yet the crestfallen three-dimensional tilt of matter integrity beaming so honest from the sky’ now just past noon, sliding through like a dull lens (ingenuity), christened expedia! as and sent through the bloody-rack of fossilized hub temperature, gaily enjoying and blasting & mashing hulls lithosphere to the dragon, for now. the size of one third day, tending in an ache, forced tired like ambulances, and breaking off chips of lemon rinds like toothpaste…. oh! perambulating fonder chest cavitity status by chasing marche,’ strips, off commonly dragon mouth chaste stasis places, ready to eat pate’ and break blades off a graceless fairy ring, situated for bleak outlooks with its correct gargoyle smile missletoe at every sharp corner and as it was granted that this crystallizing dead tantrum of claws, wings, thighs, to be scaled for consumption

boe-loose

it crumbled like cartlidge, brisky-brisk then nonchalant at its content - ever so rich, in, conch shell whistleblowing labella, labelled able in its lapel to cache and cast a spell, upon which the worthiest pearl-whirring, cat-nip tail made for cats, some effect… for people, zizing - and whizing the cats backwards-bats… out of hell, surprisingly distasteful… cruella deville

perhaps atrocities, within the minds of these pilfered oddities by the hundreds, take malnurish me, on second thought its usually redundant asunder opposition to Gravity that spots of wine cause catastrophe

flying, like snails at a clean stop operation ~loosed from the grave

topsicology

the scarecrow glided past as apostacy towards err. perhaps more than air. the long corn crops gilded the found floundering stare-off. perhaps more wispy than fair… the greatest movement jackal, basically all impaired… just waiting in its frothy, slow-growth to find a child or conjugate terror why, ‘see that, I am a child of burden, sent from ion ridges and whisked past ice-sturgeons with respect to facilitate the growth - that in tandem - sent into the proximate atmosphere for a slow-burning ‘till its torn apart, and till its worn to wrought all a vision a scarecrow, which rends his smarts, filled totally gut of surroundings, and one day imparts a version of itself, which had lorn to lock, but had to step down from the part.

bark

a larger than normal tarantula poised to eat a small tree outside the restrictive park area came to the conclusion that, if he had studied medicine, he might have enjoyed eating sooner.

who knows?

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lindaeastman · 6 years

Text

🌷 rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better!

tagged by @souralmondmilksea eight BILLION years ago! thank you ♥ love u

gender: une femme

star sign: the biggest cancer you’ve ever met. and yes i know how that sounds.

time: 21:44

favorite bands: wings, fleetwood mac, the smashing pumpkins, the grateful dead. those have to be the tops.

favorite solo artists: edith piaf, judy garland, joni mitchell, laura nyro, cat stevens, jim croce, st vincent

song stuck in my head: oddly nothing today???

last tv show i watched: i rewatched the keepers because i love being angry and upset at the injustices in the world

when did i create my blog: 2012 UGH

what do i post: a bunch of shit

last thing i googled: hmmm oh carrie fisher cause i was looking for a certain photo to show a friend!!

do i have other blogs: i have 7 in total kill me

do i get asks: very rarely but they’re usually great :) i used to get a lot more when i was in a bunch of mainstream fandoms

following: 554 wow, i’m scared to see this collection over the past 6 years

followers: 1606 i lost over 500 followers in under a year fhgjkdfkh i love it

favorite colors: yellow, rusty orange, seafoam and white

average hours of sleep: 0-12

lucky numbers: 99 is good innit?

instruments: i can play dulcimer and guitar but i use the terms play loosely

what am i wearing: a shirt my dad got me today from his work. he donated to a fundraiser for one of his fellow employees sons who recently committed suicide. the shirt says break the stigma, mental health begins with me. and on the back in neon green is a massive list of mental illnesses. i’m just sharing this because i feel my dad has always been ashamed of having a hippie lesbian mentally ill underachiever of a daughter. also he never speaks about illness other than physical because he doesn’t understand them whatsoever so i’m actually kinda touched he got me a shirt about it. and uhh also red sweatpants fkhglj MESS

how many blankets i sleep with: 1-3

dream job: non religious nun, therapy witch, wildlife conservationist, a gal who plays with dogs, yodeler, tallulah bankhead’s cigarette lighting girl, classical pianist, tudor era historian, muse

dream trip: northern france, northern ireland, scotland, hong kong, japan

favorite food: chickpeas and anything full of starch

nationality: canadian idiot

favorite song right now: lady by exid. check it!

tag: i don’t know 20 people uhh i’ll just tag a few people it’s great to see on my dash! please please feel free to ignore this!

@school-marm-charm / @ballion / @jeffreyrhyman / @ladynoblesong / @msariadneoliver / @ilikemyfaithandilikemygirls / @isabellehuppertvevo / @marymcmagic-hair / @etherealbowie / @clit0ris

#@ everyone who follows me im so sorry... im so sorry that an ugly ass bit-#also if i tagged you i'm even sorrier i just think you're cool

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uwmspeccoll · 6 years

Photo

Sunday, Sunday

Startling news? Well, what is it, Sims? "Well . . . it's about Sunday, Sunday, marm." Sunday, Sunday? Well, what about it? "Well . . . it's . . . you see . . ." Spit it out, man! Just spit it out!! "It's . . . it's coming to an end, marm!!!"

No. NO!! Say it isn't so, Sims! Say it isn't so!! "I'm afraid it's true, marm." But . . . why, Sims? What happened? "Well, it seems that after two years we've posted almost every image from the Victorian-era periodical Sunday, and now there are only about a couple of episodes left to go." Only a couple of episodes left . . . . Well. That is startling news, now, isn't it? But, what now, Sims? What do we do next? "Well, I'm not entirely sure, marm. I suppose we'll just have to enjoy what's left, and look forward with a glad heart to whatever comes after." Yes, yes. I suppose that's the sensible thing to do. Still . . . . 1881 was a wonderful year, though. Wasn't it, Sims? "Indeed it was, marm. Indeed it was." I wonder . . . . "Wonder what, marm?" I wonder . . . if in 140 years or so, anyone will remember us, know what we were about. "Oh . . . I think they will, marm, I think they will." Ha! A strike at immortality, eh Sims? I'll take that. That's very comforting, Sims. Very comforting, indeed.

We wish all our Sunday, Sunday readers a comforting, if somewhat bittersweet, Sunday.

View more Sunday, Sunday posts.

Sunday. 1881. Pictures and Places for Young and Old. With upwards of two hundred illustrations by eminent artists. New York, E.P. Dutton and Co.,1882.

#Sunday #startling news #all things must pass #victoriana #children's books #wood engravings #Historical Curriculum Collection

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almaasi · 7 years

Photo

on the subject of gishwhes (i just posted the 2016 item list for future reference)

this was item #126.

PHOTO. 126 POINTS. On a desolate, dusty prairie, a ranch hand rescues the local school marm from a runaway horse. Create a drawing of Misha & the Queen of England in the Wild West. (You pick who plays the school marm and who plays the ranch hand.)

it’s been nearly a year since i drew this, but i’ve been meaning to talk about the experience ever since, because this drawing damn near nearly killed me.

okay, actually, let me rephrase that: i nearly killed myself, but this drawing saved me.

story under the cut (warning: suicidal ideation)

here’s some backstory. i’ve been essentially bedbound for the best part of the last decade, doing nothing but mastering the art of Destiel fanfic and trying not to die. i’ve had on-off bouts of depression, but none as bad as during winter. (personally, the first gishwhes was my favourite as it occurred in summer for me, so i could actually appreciate it. this year i’ve been taking vitamin d tablets, it seems to help A LOT??? 10/10 do recommend.)

so, at the end of 2015, i crashed, horribly, dramatically. i was non-functional for pretty much a full year afterwards. i couldn’t write, i couldn’t read, i couldn’t hold a conversation without screaming at an eardrum-bursting frequency. i just lay in bed and watched youtube videos end-to-end (enter dan and phil into my life, but that’s another story).

after 9 years of ~mystery illness~ (i.e. “are you sure you’re not making it up for attention?”) i was finally diagnosed with celiac disease in january 2016. i changed my diet immediately, but it took a full year before i saw even the slightest bit of improvement.

gishwhes 2016 occurred at the end of july, at the peak (gulley?) of my depression and seasonal affective disorder. i signed up on a team with @bakasara, not knowing anyone else there, and unable to contact them properly since they were communicating using an app that required a cellphone number, and living in the middle of nowhere without cellphone signal, that wasn’t something i had.

so i was a shell of a creature, isolated, and wildly depressed. i picked one item from the list and dedicated every waking, breathing moment to making it good. all i wanted was for this thing to make it to the gishwhes hall of fame. it didn’t, but frankly i got something far more valuable.

around this time, i often got into this sort of... panic mode, whenever i heard my own voice. i’d separate from myself, internally, and get so frustrated that i was speaking, how dare i, what the fuck is wrong with you, shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up

and i’d wrap my hands around my neck and try and strangle myself, shut myself up, go away, stop existing

my family was always nearby (they were the ones talking to me when i flipped out) and they’d always rescue me from my own hands. i could feel bruises on my windpipe, i’d cough for ages after

but... i had melatonin tablets so i could sleep. i knew they were there, in a white bottle in my room, i wrote it in a fic once, i’d just sleep and not have to wake up, like that melanie martinez song i had on repeat

but i didn’t because of my family, because i didn’t want to upset them. i asked them a lot, questions about whether it would actually be easier if i wasn’t here, because they dedicate so much time and effort to keeping me alive, and i don’t give anything back. i’m a drain on resources and time and money, i’m keeping my mother from achieving any of her own goals because she constantly has to look after me

of course my mother and sister reassured me i was needed for some reason or another, though my dad didn’t get my underlying point and continued to remind me how useless i am

about 6 days in to the hunt, i left my room - probably to get food, i don’t remember - and i chanced upon my family watching tv without me. i just started pacing, ranting about something, i don’t know what, probably my anxiety about this drawing not being good enough, not being perfect, being the one thing i thought i could do and i still can’t do it.

but without interruption i just started screaming. like, banshee/woman-dying-in-a-horror-movie/cat-getting-run-over kind of scream. i fell to my knees and kept screaming for a full hour, my sister’s arms around me.

my dad went to bed, my mother watched something on her portable dvd player, and my sister kept holding me gently while i screamed, writhing on the floor in my pyjamas.

then she got me some food, got me to wash my face, and took me back to bed.

the next day was the final day i had to work on this drawing before the hunt ended. if i went to sleep, i’d miss the deadline to submit it. so i was like... you know what, it’s not perfect. the figures are stiff, there’s no life in their eyes, and the colours are all wrong. but god dammit, i’m not wasting what i’ve done.

so i spent 3 more hours on finishing touches, staying up well beyond a sensible hour for someone so exhausted. i added the birds, some depth to the sky, changed the colours up a bit, signed it - then sat back and realised it wasn’t as shitty as i thought.

no, it wasn’t what i had in mind. yes, i’d spent a full week on one item. it wasn’t as good as @euclase but who am i kidding, i’m not @euclase. i did good for me.

i submitted it to the gishwhes site having learned one thing, which i typed into that little box on the site that prompts a quote:

“I’ve been extremely sick for a very long time, and I poured the very last of my emotional, mental, and physical strength into this art piece. Through my own force of will, I learned that perfection should come secondary to Not Giving Up.”

those words weren’t just about the drawing. they were also about my life.

and dear god, i am so glad i chose to live through that week. two months later i recovered enough to start writing regularly again, and within the remaining two months of 2016, i posted The Moonlighter and the Magician, Raising Hell in a Hotel, Fight and Fool Around, and last but not least, Welcome All Winchesters - which i count as one of my strongest pieces.

of course, by january 2017 i was depressed again, but Mostly in Silence was written from that dark place. the fic, as well as the team free will self-care checklist i made to go with it, helped drag me out of the dark place. (combined with the fact i finally started to see minor improvements to my health after a full year eating a gluten-free, maize-free diet.)

it seems i’m one of those people who is best saved by creating things. expressing feelings in some abstract, outward form. if you ever find yourself in a position like mine, i have one piece of advice:

make something. make anything.

it doesn’t have to be good. it doesn’t have to be perfect. you don’t need to be @euclase. you just need to be.

and continue to be.

always keep fighting.

you are not alone.

~ Elmie ♥

p.s. i’m on patreon!! $1 would help me support myself financially!!

patreon.com/almaasi

#gishwhes #Misha Collins #gishwhes 2016 #Elmie makes things #Elmie draws things #post of postiness #suicide cw #health stuff

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symbianosgames · 7 years

Link

The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.

Hello, I’m Antonio Uribe, better known as Fáyer. I’m the Co-founder and Director of HyperBeard Games, an indie game studio based in Mexico City. The following text is a combination of an analysis and the story about the development of KleptoCats.

HyperBeard before KleptoCats

At the start of the development we weren’t in the best position. We were sad. The office had lost half of its people because the game we made before wasn’t the success we needed financially speaking, and we were a couple months away of losing the other half. All the people involved in the project thought that this was going to be the last game we made together as a team. But well, if you follow us on Twitter you know that we actually made it and we are still making games.

Where did the idea come from?

While working on the game before KleptoCats, we noticed there was a feeling of discontent towards the players of mobile games- that they only wanted free games and didn’t want to pay for quality content. With this in mind Joe and JP made a prototype as social criticism. The idea was the user would send a cat out and it would return with a random object, and the time the user had to wait would increase more and more from seconds to minutes, hours, days, weeks… The only way to make the cat come back quickly was by paying or watching an ad. I liked the concept a lot, because the objects they chose were really interesting and they caught my attention quickly. Unfortunately, The Balloons (the prior project mentioned above which failed financially) was still under development during our exploration and our boss thought the prototype was kind of silly. So, before we got to explore these ideas further we archived the prototype in our “to do” folder.

After The Balloons wasn’t the success we expected, we immediately started to work on other games. Half of the team worked on a shoot ’em up and the other half worked on a pet game with cookie clicker and world building mechanics. The whole future of the studio depended on these games. By January of 2016, only Joe, JP and me were working for the company. The boss visited us to check the progress on the pet game, which we decided had the most chance of success. The game wasn’t close to playable, the ideas were all over the place and nothing was clear. Disappointed with the state of the development he asked us if we had something that could be done before March, the official closing date of the branch. We remembered the cat idea and with a frown on his face he let us make it. After the first iterations, he was super happy with the project. I make him seem like an asshole but really he’s not so bad (he made me add this part).

Throughout HyperBeard’s history we have paused and canceled many games. This never means that the idea dies, only that it is saved for the future. The pet game was canceled at the time, but KleptoCats was influenced by it and from other games paused in the past. Alchademy, for example, took a lot of inspiration from another game that we developed years ago, mixed with a game that we are about to release soon and with the waiting mechanics of KleptoCats.

Development through iteration

In the beginning, the prototype only had the cat, several objects, and the waiting mechanic. We didn’t know where this game was going, we just started working and ideating with what we had. In three to four weeks we implemented 100 cats, 100+ objects, and the first room. We also added other mechanics like feeding, petting, the mini game, and sounds (that we did ourselves with a mic). With that we decided to soft launch in Mexico and Canada to see if people had any interest in a strange game like KleptoCats.

Thanks to that soft launch we learned a lot and found more things that players wanted in the game. In the next two weeks we added music, accessories, the possibility to change the cats’ names, displaying inactive cats in the background, GemDog, the golden cat, and the object’s descriptions. We also gave ourselves the opportunity to experiment with other ideas. We considered giving the players the ability to place the objects in the room as they wanted. We also considered having different types of cats or even other animals. At the end we decided to continue on the path we already had because it made the most sense for the current game and sometimes the benefits of the ideas didn’t make up for the time we needed to invest.

After the experimentation and the soft launch, we launched globally on March 17, 2016 on iOS and Android. We had valuable feature placement in both stores and a lot of people shared screenshots and more in their social networks. We realized even before we launched that players actually liked sharing stuff about the game.

Not everything went super smoothly, the Android feature got us a lot of attention and with that attention we were flooded with 1 star reviews because the game didn’t work on several low end devices. Those reviews put our game below the 4.0 stars threshold and it was dropped out of the feature. Lucky enough, we managed to work on some optimizations and the game returned to a good position. Now it’s a rated a very respectable 4.5.

KleptoCats’ story and fan theories

If you’re a fan of the game, you’ve probably come across some strange objects that seem to suggest that the game is somewhat more complex than it seems. KleptoCats has a story that is developed while collecting objects. Due to the randomness of the order you may collect the objects, some users may discover it sooner or but for others, it may take a while. The object that makes it very obvious that something is strange, is the mirror.

While we were developing the game, JP (the lead artist) had thought it was a good idea to put a mirror in the center of the room and draw someone tied to a chair in the reflection. That was the origin of the back story. The idea is that the character who is tied up in the mirror, IS the “player” in a certain way. That player is also the voice that describes objects and is the one who experiences what happens in the game. Something that makes the mystery more interesting is that the reflection is only seen when the object is placed. It’s not shown in the catalog and its description says “nothing to see here, just a regular mirror.”

From there we developed the story into the game and added many more objects that took the story to another level, ending with the secret codes hidden in each of the first 4 rooms that, when entered into the safe, open a special secret level for really dedicated fans.

Because of this secrecy, and the way it unfolds differently for each person depending on what objects you find, there are many fans who developed theories about what was going on. A simple Google search reveals several videos, images, and posts with theories. On our side, to keep the lore going, we decided to make a comic that gives a bit more information.

The weirdness of an idle mechanic and the mobile game dev scene

KleptoCats is weird on several levels, but the weirdest thing, by far, is the wait mechanics on which the whole game is based. Most game design strategies are meant to keep your players happy and make them play a lot. In our game we try to have them interested a couple of minutes and then let them leave because there is nothing else to do. The game was designed like a small window to a strange world. Although we make money from the little patience that some players have, we always recommend to wait instead of rushing to find everything.

We didn’t invent the waiting mechanic and we were definitely not the first ones to make an idle collection game with cats (there is Neko Atsume). At first we were criticized for having stolen this other game but, if analyzed, the games are very different. Yes, both have cats, collections and idle mechanics, but how they are played and the purpose of each are very different. I think fans knew to differentiate and appreciate each one for its unique ways.

I think the comparisons happened because both are mobile games, an area of the gaming industry that is not well received. Gamers say that mobile games are not real games, the video game press rarely talks about them, and platform users think that we are only interested in money. Mobile game developers never get respect, and the few times a mobile game catches the attention of the world or the press is because it is making a lot of money. Nobody sees mobile games like the games on console or PC.

The mobile market is a complicated platform. Not only do we get little respect in the industry, we also have to find a way to make money in an ecosystem that refuses to pay and is saturated with free high quality options such as Supercell, King and in recent months Nintendo with IPs like Pokémon and Mario. This topic could be explored even further but for now I do not want to get too distracted.

Passing along to other teammates and combatting momentum

HyperBeard is a small team, when we started KleptoCats we were only 3 people, and now we are 7. The project started with Joe (programmer), JP (artist) and me helping with everything else that was necessary. This team developed the game to the third room. From there we hired a couple more people to add more details and eventually take control of the project. Mario, Marms, and Kyu developed the game from the 4th to the 6th room. The 7th (and those that follow) are currently being developed in collaboration with another branch of the company that owns HyperBeard. Even though to our standards KleptoCats was a success, after months of work and trying to do something new, we found trying to continue the project got tiresome. That’s why we decided after months of working, it was a good idea for the original team to move onto other things while the new members could take it and give it a fresh and different vision. After a month with the new core team, we again decided that it was better to take it to other people. We discovered that it is better to cycle development teams so that it does not feel monotonous and that others can adapt part of their tastes and cultures to the game.

For games like KleptoCats content is very important, it ensures that the app stores pay attention to the game and players stick around and invest in it. Even more important than the content is the people who are working on it, you have to maintain a high morale and also keep the interest of the creators for the project. If you get to lose interest the game will suffer the absence of creativity. That’s why we decided to cycle the development.

The Dupes (duplicated objects)

Having a success doesn’t mean that everything we did was perfect. An example at the beginning of development, due to the randomness of the game, there were many complaints from the players because the cats were bringing repeated objects. Although in the game when this happens we give more coins to the user, we wanted to do something so that the player did not feel like it was a mistake.

To correct the issue, we decided to remove the repeated objects and instead show a bag of money, so it would be more obvious that we were giving more coins. It did not work as expected, although internally the game worked the same, many users complained because by only showing the money bag it was much more obvious when the cat was not giving you a new object.

Not long ago we added another feature to the game where we showed a bubble with the description of the object that the cat brings, because of that, we decided that it was a good idea to return the repeated objects so the user could see again the descriptions that are an important part of the game. Again, it backfired, there were many complaints because the cats were bringing repeated objects and many thought it was a bug in the game.

In all iterations about duplicate objects, things worked exactly the same, the changes were only graphical. Either way the fans always reacted in a negative way, which taught us that sometimes it is better not to pay too much attention to what they say and it is better to see how they act on it.

Merchandise

If you follow us on social networks, you’ve probably seen some pictures of the plushies we made of Guapo (the main cat in KleptoCats). By chance we found a local manufacturer that had some cat plushies that looked very similar to ours and we contacted them to do some tests. We liked the results so much that we shared it online and made a mailing list for anyone interested in getting one. In a couple of weeks, we gathered more than 10,000 subscribers and decided to order 100 units to test.

Selling the plushies was not difficult but we never considered how complicated and expensive it is to send the merchandise to other countries, considering that almost all the fans were from outside Mexico. The entire process took a long time and surely that was more expensive than what we recovered when we sold them. Either way, it was not a bad experience and it was worth it just to see fans from various parts of the world with their KleptoCats plushies.

Besides plushies we did other things, too. A friend helped us with a webcomic that illustrates a bit of the lore of KleptoCats. We also made several stickers to distribute in events and to our friends. The KleptoCats page has a paint tool where you can create KleptoCats and we also have a section of wallpapers for phones and PCs.

KleptoCats Today

The game’s birthday is on March 17th. Today the game has 7 rooms, 280 cats, 844 objects, many accessories to dress the kittens, and is translated into 8 languages. We are still working on the game and a new room will be released soon.

From its first day until its birthday the game has been downloaded more than 6 million times and has generated more than $800,000 (53% from IAPs and 47% from ads). In total, all users have played about 8 million hours, which is almost a thousand years.

We are very happy with the success that KleptoCats has had and in addition to putting HyperBeard on the map, it gives us the money to continue chasing crazy ideas. We are currently developing a couple of ideas and we are getting ready to be publishers for projects similar to ours.

If you read the whole post, thank you very much for your time. If you have any questions or comments, you can always go to my twitter (@fire_tony) or HyperBeard’s (@HyperBeard). On the HyperBeard website you can find more information about our other games and the contact information. Please follow our social networks, on there we are always sharing what we do.

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