that post about visualisation and realising how many ppl CAN’T rly got to me….. like it is tragically fascinating to me that so many ppl can’t visualise. “can you picture the apple clearly” i can see it in perfect detail, down to the shape and texture of the stem and the drop of water on the side from being washed. i can see the table it’s sitting on, the house around it, the way the light streams in and the dust floating in it. i know what the living room looks like to the right and the garden out the door to the left, which herbs are first in the rows, i know what it feels like and smells like, what the apple tastes like, how heavy it is in my hand. i don’t have to close my eyes to do it either. i can see it picture in picture or i can let my vision fade and Go Inside My Head into this little house with the apple and i can pick it up and eat it and walk down the hall, peruse the bookshelves, go outside and stroll the grounds and meet the neighbours. i can see the apple in my hand in the garden or i can see it in my hand right here in the physical, can see it floating in front of my face.

what do u mean u don’t see anything. where do u go when u get bored of the place ur body is

Cancelled Episode 11 "Hopeless"

"Yo mama so old, she was around when the Dead Sea was just getting sick!"

-yo mama jokes series

"Wait are we seriously working with this man right here? You are aware he's a Moonshadow Elf, right? As in, the very kind that plotted rebellion against the Dragon Lord? And ALMOST SUCCEEDED?" There's no way I'm working with that man of many secrets.

"Why so defensive, girl, you barely got to know me, besides..." Snowball also defensively and therefore ironically defends himself.

"God knows what Nemean has that you want to work with him for that, I mean, what could a Moonshadow Elf possibly want with a crippled, naive vanishing fool?" I remark mockingly. Well, not really mockingly, but you get what I mean.

"Well that's hurtful, it just feels nice to be wanted, ya know?" Nemean smiles an innocent smile back at me.

"NOT BY A MOONSHADOW ELF, NEMEAN!" I knock some sense into him. Although...a Moonshadow Elf wants this...this. No way I can take him lightly in the future.

But I must say...when I'm able to see him with the proper lighting of Disparage's office lights and not the sloppy old lights of the prison cell, and when he's dressed in his proper Moonshadow Elf dishonourable robes and not the prison clothes...he honeslty looks quite dashing. His face looks quite handsome, and his movements are eloquent...save for, of course his disgraceful Moonshadow Elf ears. Those goshdarn Elf ears. So utterly shaming.

"Oh, for the love of god, let's just all put down our differences and past prejudices and GET ALONG WITH THE GODDAMN MISSION!" Disparage was getting kinda impatient here.

"Ok ok, what's the mission?" Mas...Erik, was tampering again with one of Disparage's office music instruments like he's some curious five-year old cat-kid. Yeah yeah yeah, really the Angel of music, really.

"Ok ok, here's the plan, we need to find this girl here, don't ask why, but she is a national security threat and possesses insanely strong powers and abilities, so just eradicate her and be gone with her, ok?" Disparage's office computer broadcast visualiser flashed bright with the CCTV image of a young middle-school girl wearing a school uniform dress with long sleeves-and most importantly, a large hat hiding her face-crossing the road.

"What is she?" Ma-ERIK went back to his serious demeanour again. A large change from that childish "Angel of music".

"Sufficient amount of evidence concludes she's a half-demon, half-angel," Disparage nods towards evidential clues.

Oh, another filthy half-blood. And not even human blood at that, angels and demons are two completely incompatible beings! To be honest, I don't blame her for having a sudden outburst of power if that's the truth of her genetic bloodline...

"And why exactly do we need to work with this Moonshadow Elf? Just to catch a 7-year old middle-school girl?" I questioned Disparage and his glorious ways. Glorious indeed.

"Because...and I hate to say it...she has been proven to be so powerful that only a Moonshadow Elf could subdue her,"

19. intelligence

I think it is well-understood by now that IQ tests don’t really measure intelligence. Or, rather, having a high IQ does not necessarily indicate that you are really all that smart. You could still be plenty dumb. And scoring low on an IQ test does not mean that you lack brainpower. Sure, some folks may roll their eyes when they hear the term “emotional intelligence,” probably thinking that it���s just some politically correct euphemism for “stupid, but occasionally quite nice and friendly to strangers.” But, actually, how do we regard empathy? Isn’t being highly empathetic a certain sign of intelligence? Being able to empathise with another individual, being able to interface with them, conceptualising in your head a facsimile of what is going on in their head, all that sounds like it would require quite the number of functioning brain cells. And surely we could well call the textbook psychopath, who’s wholly trapped inside their own selves, incapable of ever truly putting themselves in somebody else’s shoes, a bit ignorant? A bit of a blockhead? A dumb-dumb ignoramus who’ll never truly understand what it means to be a human living and sharing this planet with others who are as insecure and anxious and bonkers as they are? Isn’t it rather obvious that, yes indeed, at least part of what makes a smart person smart is some functioning degree of emotional intelligence. And that is not something that an IQ test will measure.

But IQ tests must have some merit, right? It can't all be bullshit, it's not purely pseudoscience, it's way too accepted by the mainstream to be all that bad. Of course, lobotomies were also once considered to be sound science, and Freud used to be hugely respected within the field of psychology. Those days are gone. Seeing a modern Freudian for therapy is a bit like breaking a leg and going to an expert in the four humours. But those comparisons are unfair. The IQ test may have been used historically in some real shitty ways, and we all know how annoying people who brag about their high IQs are, but reason dictate that being able to solve complex puzzles that requires the ability to sense patterns, follow chains of logic, and being able to visualise solutions to problems, must make you kinda smart. At least you are a kind of smart. There may be countless ways to be smart, but you've sure hit one.

Earlier today I saw a Reddit thread mocking a… Well, obviously they were mocking a woman. Most Reddit users would probably never admit to truly being misogynistic pricks, but it is curious how often videos or articles discussing women who fucked up gets upvoted to the near-empyrean skies. There are always excuses to be had for men who act like total shits, but if it is a woman, then that must say something deep and troubling about all of womankind. In any case, in this thread they were mocking a woman who in a video greatly overestimated her intelligence, believing herself to be the second-smartest person in the room, only to later be shown to have the lowest IQ score. Satisfying, right? To see some arrogant narcissist get forced to eat humble pie. But the peculiar thing about the video is that this woman did not get shown to have some real abysmally poor IQ score. She scored 112. That is above average. Sure, it’s not high above average, it still counts within the spectrum of what we’d call “normal.” But she was not some dumb woman. Just a bit of an irritating one. So, of course, Reddit had it in for her.

I’m guessing that the video creators must have been very happy with the result. It would have been awkward if the braggadocious jerk came out on top. In fact, having her score last almost feels planned out, like as if they rigged the video just to make that outcome happen. I’m not of the conspiracy theorist mindset, but we’re talking about people making clickbait-y videos for YouTube. It’s probably best to take any videos like that with a truckload of salt. Still, it does seem to confirm one suspicion I’ve had for the longest time. I think that if you ask people to report on their own intelligence, most people of average to above-average intelligence, will claim to be somewhere in the lower end of high intelligence. The internet is now largely familiar with the Dunning-Kruger effect, though, ironically many people do slightly misunderstand it. But effectively, what it shows is that in order to judge your own competency in a particular field, you need some level of expertise in that field to do so accurately. Total novices will overestimate their level of skill, whereas total masters may lean towards underestimating their level of skill. Typically the measured phenomena is not as extreme as some popular internet graphs make it out to be, where you get this huge valley in the middle showing people’s sense of self completely collapse as they are getting a sense of their true value. The Dunning-Kruger effect is likely real, but like most such similar things, it’s more subtle than obvious.

(You may have seen graph 1 get shared online, and it’s bad. If you want to share a graph with the world, share graph 2.)

I have never done an IQ test. Not a proper one. No, like most people, all I’ve ever done is tests promising to give me an estimate of what my IQ may be. Y’know, the ones offered by various groups associated with Mensa that you may find online. Yeah, don’t take those tests too seriously, if you really want to know your IQ score, you need to do a supervised test. Still, most of the time, these sites will acknowledge that what they’re offering is an estimate, and quite often, that estimate will get it roughly correct. Give or take a few points. And recently I felt like doing one of those tests, last time I did one was several years ago, and… Well, yes, I scored high. 133 to be precise. That’s considered to be gifted. I could join Mensa if I wanted to. Not that I do want to. Mensa is for nerds. I am a cool kid. I smoked pot once.

Now, am I intelligent? How humble should I be? Should I say “well, I guess so?” Should I shrug and say that I don’t really care either way whether I am smart or dumb? But when does being humble turn into false modesty? I am pretty well-convinced that I am intelligent, and so are most people who come into contact with me. Sure, I won’t claim to be a hugely brilliant genius, that’d be stretching it, but surely I should be able to state, as a fact, that I am of high intelligence. If you ask a strongman whether or not he considers himself of high physical strength, he won’t feel embarrassed to admit that yes, he’s quite ripped. I desperately do not wish to come across as an asshole, and I don’t want people thinking I’m like that woman in that video, but it’s a strange balancing act, maintaining your ego without going too far in either direction. I don’t want to seem conceited, but I also don’t want to pretend to be dumber than I am, just to come across as a more unpretentious, unassuming, dude. Does the strongman try to pretend that his muscles are actually all fat, and that anyone could easily lift those big boulders if they just use the right posture? You know how annoying it is when good singers claim that everyone can learn to sing as good as them? Yeah... Let's not do that.

“I know that I know nothing.” That’s Socrates. Or, well, it’s Plato’s account of Socrates. We don’t really know how much of Socrates may actually have been just Plato using Socrates as some elaborate ventriloquist’s puppet. Still, the sentiment is pretty clear. The more you know, the wiser you get, the more aware you are of all the things you don’t know. We’re back to the Dunning-Kruger effect. To be smart is to know you are not really smart. The more you stare into the void, the deeper the void will seem. Complex systems only get more complex the more you study them. There’s no limit to comprehension of the universe. You could always be smarter. You could always learn more. Perhaps you require a certain level of intelligence to truly grasp this fact, to truly estimate your role within existence, your position relative to eternity. It’s bound to get you feeling quite humbled. To the cosmos, we’re all a bit like that woman in that YouTube video. We may all think of ourselves as being quite clever, but then the universe logs on to Reddit to talk shit about how contemptuous we really are, and how satisfying it is to see us get made to eat that bland humble pie. It somehow manages to taste rancid and like nothing at the very same time.

idk if tumblr ate my ask but. if it did, 30 (obsession) for the riddler or scriddler?

Tumblr says, ‘your other ask was delicious, nom nom nom’

I says, ‘even if it hadn’t this is taking me a really long time because the music I’m listening to has made me too hype to write with any speed at all’

AO3 :D

‘Obsession’

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]

The first time Jonathan saw him was on the front page of the newspaper.  He could say with absolute certainty that was the day it started. 

Before that day Jonathan would have been first in line to declare there was no such thing as a human being that was so attractive that one could not control themselves.  It was poppycock, he insisted.  Anyone who allowed something as primal as hormones to waylay their every thought was a weakling and a fool.  Jonathan had looked upon a lifetime of people and had never so much as done a single double-take.

The newspaper was in a browbeaten metal box next to a bus stop.  It was locked and the only access was either by key, vandalism, or coin.  Jonathan obviously did not have a key, the location made it difficult to vandalise, and he was loath to pay for absolutely anything.  But one of those three he needed choose, and he justified the third by telling himself it was a small price to pay to get the newspaper into his hands and thus have physical evidence that the man pictured there really was not so beautiful as his memory was bound to recall him.  He tucked it under his arm and did not look at it until he was safely home, and he discovered he was correct: he was not so beautiful as he recalled.  He was even moreso.

Jonathan put the newspaper into his desk drawer and failed not thinking about it.  Every single minute of every single day was haunted by the image of the beautiful man printed upon its face.  He could not sleep for the thought of it.  His lectures at the university, already marred with his general disinterest with being there, were now riddled with pauses and repetition as his thoughts unravelled even while he was speaking them.  He was well-known to the staff as a solitary and unpleasant creature, so his constant inquiries as to the man in the newspaper were met mostly with confusion and dismissal.  He was disgusted in himself for the asking but he could not stop.

Until the night he no longer had to, for he entered his apartment to find Edward there within it.  He stood in the doorway to his bedroom motionless and thoughtless and directionless.

“Well,” Edward said, his voice beautiful and direct from his lips to Jonathan’s ears, “you wanted me.  Here I am.”

Jonathan had never put a single neuron into concluding what Edward must have smelled like, but all of the ones available were thinking about it now.  He had no name to put to the man’s subtle scent other than ‘perfect’.  And he was draped casually across Jonathan’s desk, which would doubtlessly cause it to sink into the wood and remain there long after he left as an olfactory spectre which Jonathan would find himself unable to escape.

His hair was in that god-awful tousled style that Jonathan would now never be able to see on another man without thinking of him.  It was that certain colour that was achieved only by maple leaves only on one day of the year and some of it was visible from the top of the shirt of which he had not done up the top few buttons.  Jonathan had a nearly visceral need to see the rest of it, and whereupon it ran down his torso, down towards his artfully concealed genitals.  Jonathan’s own were filling with a steady heat it was already too late to hide.  Not even the rare shame threatening to wash through him was enough to convince his barely used equipment to settle back where it belonged.  For all his former conviction, it turned out he shared this carnal similarity with all those he had debased after all.

Edward laughed.  It was condescending, and Jonathan hated that he deserved it.  Edward swung himself to sitting with his knees spread and Jonathan hated that he had done it.  “Surely you haven’t been stalking me all this time just so you could stare at me,” Edward said.  “What was your aim, hm?  Did you mean to lock me up in your basement, perhaps?”

Jonathan had indeed fantasized many times about that very thing.  About restraining him, naked, to the wall with manacles which would chafe and bruise and ruin his beautiful skin.  He would leave him down there until he was emaciated and weak and then this would all end for he would have been made ugly as all of humanity was.

Edward shook his head and twitched his wrist up to eye level.  “I’m out of time, I’m afraid.  Good talk.”  And he simply stood and left as Jonathan stared after him, his entire body rigid and unmoving.

The obsession somehow escalated from there.

His room was soon plastered with every newspaper page which contained any mention of Edward.  Any and all news stories about him were preserved on video tape.  He dreamed and he dreamed and he dreamed of Edward, and he had never before been one for masturbation, but it did not matter how often or in what way he did it for the intense sexual desire Jonathan had for him never ceased.  In the dreams Edward was always beautiful, always enticing Jonathan to come to him, but when he did his hands could not feel the shape of him nor could his mind conjure up any image of what he may have looked like beneath his clothes and he knew it was because whatever he managed to think up would be so far inferior to the real thing that it was not worth the effort to visualise.  He lost hours sitting at his desk, the scent Edward had left behind erasing all notion of time or purpose.

Then Edward began to turn up in Jonathan’s daily life.

Jonathan did not ever have to look for him.  He would simply appear at places where Jonathan was already fated to be.  Some of these places were common sense and some of them were not, but Edward appeared in all of them nonetheless.  Jonathan could not leave his apartment without scanning every person he passed for Edward.  He could not remain inside of his apartment without scanning every person who passed the window for Edward.  Night was the only time he could continue his work, and continue his work he did for he had concluded it was his only way out of this.  Edward had stolen his body and so Jonathan would steal his mind.

When next Jonathan saw him the toxin was ready.  He approached, which he had never done before.  Edward’s smile implied he had anticipated such a thing and Jonathan hated the thrill it sparked in his stomach. 

“You have something in mind today, I take it?” Edward said.  His words were the lyrics to a song no one had the skill to write.  Jonathan nodded. 

“I have a truck parked out back.”

Edward hummed in satisfaction and followed him.  Jonathan did not want to take his eyes away when he lifted himself into the bed and leaned back in it as though it were his own and not Jonathan’s, but he had to.  He had to stop this now.  He removed the needle from the glovebox and concealed it behind his back.

“What have you got there?” Edward asked.  Jonathan did not answer.  He instead climbed onto the bed and straddled Edward and pressed his left wrist above his head, at which time he -

They were so close together.  And he knew.  Jonathan could tell that he knew, but he had come anyway.  All of this together stole Jonathan’s breath and his thoughts and replaced it with the violent need to grind his body against Edward’s until the ever-present ache between his legs was relieved at last.  He glanced downward to find that Edward’s bulge was no more present than it had been before, but his was firm beneath Edward’s knowing fingers.  He turned his head aside, into his right arm, in an attempt to dissipate the ensuing moan into his sleeve, but he knew the moment he did so it had not worked.

“Something tells me,” Edward said with accursed playfulness, “that drug isn’t going to be one of the ones I like.”

Jonathan could not answer because his ability to form words had been lost with a motion of Edward’s free hand.

“You know, if I wasn’t certain that was a lethal dose of your little fear experiment, I would have gone for it.  But as it is I’ll have to refuse.  No hard feelings.”

Jonathan bent down and pressed the point of the needle against the side of Edward’s neck.  Edward did not flinch.  Sweat was beading along Jonathan’s hairline and underneath his arms and the place where Edward’s hand was still bewitching him.  “If I kill you,” Jonathan murmured into his ear, “then this will end.”

“Why would you want it to?” Edward whispered.  His breath seemed to caress Jonathan’s skin.  “Tell me, Jonathan.  When was the last time you felt this much excitement?  This alive?  You never have, have you?  That’s why you’ve fallen into this so hard and so deep.  Your work gives you purpose, but it does not give you life.  Not like I do.”

Jonathan prayed that his grip upon Edward’s wrist would not weaken and that his thumb on the plunger would not falter.

“If you kill me,” Edward went on, the sound of his voice making Jonathan helpless, “you will never know the part of yourself that I have awoken.  And you can’t have that.  Can you.”

Jonathan’s breath stalled.  Edward’s eyes glittered knowingly in the dark and Jonathan could not stop looking at them.

“Drop the needle and do what you should have done when I laid myself out so nicely for you on your desk.”

Jonathan’s body obeyed against the panicked protestations of his mind.  He was kissing him at long last, hard and desperate.  His hand had released the needle and was clenching as much of Edward’s buttock as it could grasp, and Edward was laughing but Jonathan did not realise it until he ran out of breath.  He lowered his head to the breast of the man who had broken him and left it there.  Edward’s free hand was in Jonathan’s hair, at once reassuring and condescending, and he did not want for him to ever move it.

“Oh, Jonathan,” Edward fairly hummed into his ear, “you have been fun.”  And his hand, still holding Jonathan’s crotch, clenched and twisted it with sudden violence.  Jonathan saw white and that was all he was able to perceive for a good few moments.  His resumed awareness told him he was curled against the side of the truck, and once he had regained enough of his breath he scrabbled his hand up the bed until he could push himself to sitting.  He looked over his shoulder to see Edward sitting atop the other side, and as soon as their eyes met Edward smiled and swept his legs over the side and disappeared.  Jonathan could not get up fast enough to chase him and he noticed with a start that the syringe was gone.

Days went by.  Days, and then weeks, and then months.  Edward had gone.  He had vanished.  Jonathan tore through newspapers for mention of him in between glances at the ever-on television for a hint towards his whereabouts.  He scoured the Internet to the best of his limited ability and glowered at the publicly viewable footage and photographs and words describing the man who should have been his and only his.  He fantasized about storming into the places who thought they had the right to publish anything about him, inflicting upon them their worst fears and watching as the building burned to the ground before him.  He did not purposely sleep, and the occasions he found himself doing so he woke with clothes both sticky and sweat-soaked, driven by dreams of all the things he could have done when Edward had been beneath him but had not.

It was seven months and twenty-five days later when Jonathan received the postcard.  The photograph upon the front contained nothing he recognised, but the words upon the back froze his very blood:

You want me.  Here I am.

Jonathan learned then there was something worse than lust.  The rage that rose up in him was blinding and numbing and deafening, and a scream of fury tore a strip into the back of his throat that would echo for days.  His hands, divorced from any thought at all, tore the postcard asunder into a hundred jagged pieces and his eyes did not watch himself do it.  When vision returned to them his breath shuddered and his legs weakened.  He found himself kneeling on the floor amidst the fragments, and after a moment he began to gather them together in a panic.  “No,” he whispered to himself with a horror he would never learn how to inflict upon another.  “No!” 

He tried for hours to reassemble the card, but to no avail.  The pieces were too small and too many.  He held the scrap which contained the most of the words Edward had written and clenched it tightly within both hands.  And then Jonathan knew something which was nearly as horrible as the rage had been, and that was sorrow.  His body was a rigid inward curl and he cried hot and bitter tears into his own knees, his forehead pressed into his clasped hands.  Edward’s laugh was echoing in his ears.  Even now Jonathan could not find it ugly.

The sleep that came to Jonathan then was of a sort he had not known in years, deep and black and dreamless, and when he awoke and looked upon the evidence of what he had spent months upon months buried inside of he felt nothing.  He felt nothing at all.  Edward was still beautiful, but whatever part of him had cared was no longer there.  His eyes fell to the paper scattered upon the floor. 

“No,” he said to it.  “No, I think I will wait until it is you who wants me.”

And he rose to his feet and laughed and began to think of what he would do when finally that day came. 

Together We Are One (prequel part 5)

(This has kind of evolved from a fanfiction into its own story, but eh, enjoy!)

“Hey Impulse! What’s going on? Little Tango called and said you wanted me to come.” A friendly voice drifted through the house, preceding its owner: another old man, but one who still had streaks of blond hair visible between the grey strands. This man walked in slightly bent over, not because of age, but because a very small girl was clinging onto his index finger. Together, they walked over to the center of the room, where a gathering of sorts seemed to be taking place. Four toddlers were sitting on the ground, facing the old man with the dirty shirt: Impulse.

Impulse looked up at the newcomers and replied, “Zed! Yeah, well... I think it’s time to tell them, and I thought it would be easier for both of us if we did it together.”

Whatever Zed had been expecting, this wasn’t it. It seemed Impulse had uncovered some memories he had tried to suppress. His eyes were suddenly filled with pain, pain that had not been there the first time, that now crashed back like a boomerang; only temporarily disposed of. He dove head first into the rabbit hole of memories that, despite having been in a hidden corner of his mind for thirty years, were clear as day, made fresh through the pain that stained them.

“Gwampa, what’s wong?” The innocent voice of the small child pulled him out of his whirlwind of thoughts, and Zed was suddenly aware of the girl gently tugging his finger.

“I’m okay, Tekkie. Go sit down.” And to Impulse, he said, “Yeah… I guess it is.”

The little girl, Tekkie, her grandpa’s troubles already forgotten, ran over to sit next to Tango and held his hand. Her soft fingers, which had not yet lost their baby fat, easily wove through his, and were clearly very comfortable doing so. He grinned at her, and she flashed a dimpled smile back. Then they turned their heads to face their grandpas.

Zed had taken a seat in the chair normally occupied by Impulse’s wife. He automatically reached for his friend’s hand in comfort, but he didn’t know if he was comforting Impulse or himself.

And in this position, hand in hand, they started.

Though there was still pain, it was a relief to talk about it, together. It was mostly Impulse talking, because he had spent his entire life dwelling on this, analysing every mistake, remembering every thought. Every time he paused for breath, however, Zedaph continued, contributing his own perspective.

The five toddlers listened intently to the most epic tale they had ever heard. They were very good listeners, gasping at the right time, whimpering when a character died, never interrupting. Only the oldest, Tango, was aware that this was all real, not just some story.

When their grandpas got to the part where little Tango’s namesake disappeared, they could not continue. Zedaph let out a sob.

Little Tango didn’t make them continue; for a five-year-old, he was very emotion-sensitive and seemed to know exactly when it was too much. Instead, he asked them, “Did they ever come back?” though he already knew the answer.

Impulse fought to hold back tears, and choked out, “No… they never came back.”

At the same time, in another world...

“Screwdriver.”

“This one? Here you go.”

“Wrench.”

“You could ask politely.”

With the sound of metal rolling over concrete, a man emerged from beneath a complicated-looking machine. He lay on a skateboard he was using as a car creeper, and his face was smeared with oil and what looked like rust. The man blew his moustache away from his mouth with a sigh of exasperation. “For efficiency reasons I find it easier to name what I need, rather than go ‘Tango, could you hand me that drill over there?’ every time.”

“At least say please?” Tango replied.

Mumbo rolled his eyes and disappeared under the machine again. For a moment there was no sound except the steady tap, tap, tap, of a hammer, but then Mumbo spoke again. “Bolt, please.”

Grinning, Tango handed one to him and replied “That’s more like it.” He heard a sigh come out from under the machine, but he could tell Mumbo was smiling. Tango turned when he heard footsteps approaching them. Suddenly, he stood face to face with Xisuma. “Gah! You startled me, X!”

X chuckled and looked down to where Mumbo’s hair was visible. “Nearly done, Mumbo? I have something to tell you guys”

“Almost.” Mumbo sounded like he had his tongue between his teeth in concentration. There was the low buzzing of a drill, and then Mumbo rolled out from beneath the machine again. “There! It’s finished! Phew… I’ve been working on that for weeks!”

“Amazing! So now all Tango has to do is program it.”

“Yes. That’ll be done within a few minutes. But you said you had to tell us something, X?” Tango reminded him.

“Yeah. Could you follow me to the meeting room? Falsie, Grian, and Keralis are waiting for us.”

The three of them walked into the next room, where indeed there were three other people sitting around a table, playing cards. False, Grian and Keralis looked up as they entered. They looked expectantly at Mumbo, who answered the question in their minds. “It’s done,” he said, with a hint of pride in his voice. They cheered, and Grian gave Mumbo a high-five. Sort of, because since he was sitting and Mumbo was super tall, Mumbo had to give a low five to Grian’s high five.

Xisuma walks carefully past a wall covered in weapons and over to a mobile whiteboard. He turned to face the rest, who had all sat down and were patiently waiting.

“I have some rather depressing news. Every day, I walk out of my apartment and meet my neighbor, who leaves at the same time. When I first moved in three years ago and met her for the first time, she was cradling a baby of perhaps four months old. Last week, when I saw her, she was holding that same baby. Then I realised, over the course of three years, that baby had not aged at all. I see them every single morning, yet I had not registered this until last week.

“So naturally, I decided to get to the bottom of it. I found pictures of us from when we had just arrived in this dimension, and saw that none of us have changed at all either. Of course, that doesn’t say much, because adults simply don’t change much over a mere three years, which is probably why we didn’t notice before.” He paused for breath, and Grian spoke.

“So, we don’t age. Is that really such a bad thing?” He grinned.

Xisuma didn’t smile. He looked at Grian sadly, and Grian’s smile vanished. “I wasn’t done. While I was trying to find out exactly what was going on, I found some other information. I asked Tango to hack into NASA for me-”

“So that’s what that was for!” Tango interrupted. Then, catching Xisuma’s eye, “Sorry.”

“NASA managed to do quite a bit of research on the time machine before we stole it. It is a miracle that Mumbo was able to fix it, when some of the best scientists in this world couldn’t. But the point is, I found some things. We previously thought that the black hole sent us to another dimension. We were wrong. We are on the same earth, but in a different timeline.”

This revelation was followed by shocked and comprehending gasps from those listening. 

Xisuma nodded absent mindedly, and continued. “Black holes warp time. This explains why we don’t age. Time flows differently here. We didn’t go through the black hole, we are inside it. It doesn’t just freeze all organic matter into one state, it slows time as we experience it. For us it feels like we have been here for three years, but back home in the other timeline, it has been ten times as long. So for the other hermits, we have been gone for three decades. They probably think we’re all dead.”

This time there were pained gasps. Remorse transformed each of their features as they realised how their friends must feel.

“But it’s not all bad. Our original plan to get back was to use the time machine to travel across dimensions, but now that we know that doesn’t apply, I made some adjustments. We need to travel through time. We know the risks of messing with the past, but it is the only way to get back. You see,” He paused and started drawing on the whiteboard. He drew a straight line from left to right, and then split the line at the end so it resulted in a rotated Y of sorts. “This is what the timeline would look like, were it possible to visualise it. This,” he gestured to the bottom of the Y, “ is when we were all still back home. And here,” he pointed at the intersection, where all the lines came together, “is where we went into the black hole. We went to one timeline, while the other Hermits continued on the other. So the only way to go back to them is to take the time machine back to before we went into the black hole, because any time after that, we would still be in this timeline.” Xisuma looked around to see if they understood. It looked like some were still processing all the information, but there was only as much confusion as what was to be expected.

False spoke up. “That means that when we go back and change the past, we erase all the suffering we caused them, and their entire timeline,” she stood up and walked to the board, “will vanish.” she wiped away one of the split-off lines.

“Exactly,” Xisuma nodded. “We need to stay hidden until our past selves have gone into the black hole, because otherwise we could seriously mess up the past. This means that we have to stay far away, because past Tango or past Cleo could sense our presence.”

At this, Tango’s eyes widened. “That’s right! I used to have telepathy! I had entirely forgotten about that…” His eyes glazed over for a second, clearly seeing things the rest could not. Xisuma’s smooth British voice brought him back to the present.

“Right, yeah. I found information about that during my deep dive into NASA’s archive, too. NASA has two theories; the first being that the black hole runs on a different frequency, one that is not compatible with magic. The magic is still in the air somewhere, but humans can’t access it. The second theory is that magic is entirely dead here, because the vortex is too powerful, and magic simply can’t survive.”

They all sat and stared blankly, remembering a better time, when they were above the regular laws of humanity. They never knew why their powers had ceased to exist when they regained consciousness after being thrown around the void, until now. At least, a theory as to why. As they thought back to when they were more than human, the homesickness was suddenly overwhelming. From one moment to the next, they were all desperate to go home. It had always remained their home, all three years they had spent elsewhere. It had never felt truly theirs here.

Tango cleared his throat, which suddenly had a lump in it, and said, “I say we leave as soon as possible. I’m going to go program the time machine so it’s ready to go.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, some wiping the silent tears from their cheeks. Tango speed walked into the room with the time machine; he couldn’t get there fast enough.

Once he disappeared past the door frame, Keralis spoke for the first time that evening. “I agree with Tango. Let’s go home. Today. Anyone have things in their apartments they want to bring to the past?” He looked around, studying each face individually. He realised he hadn’t really seen them since coming here, to this new world. He knew he would only see the ghost of his past life. 

“Nah, but I do want to keep these cool suits,” Mumbo said, gesturing to the six spy outfits on display in glass cases along the wall behind him.

“I second that. I just want to go home,” Grian concurs.

Within a few minutes, as Tango had promised, the time machine was ready for departure. Somehow they all managed to squeeze into the machine designed to transport one person.

With effort, Xisuma got enough oxygen to say, “Tango, you did program this properly, right? You were in quite a rush.”

“Yes, X. Have some faith in my abilities, please.” Tango rolled his eyes. “Ready? Here we go!” he pulled a large lever- with difficulty- and they vanished in a bright flash.

                                            *          *          *

Splitting Hairs ch. 6

Hello my lovlies! Thank you for bearing with me, but here is chapter six of Splitting Hairs! I’m really bloody loving writing this and I hope you’re enjoying it too. As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

Severus Snape x OC

Word count: 3289 Summary: Minerva and Severus decide to read the letter and are concerned about the contents. Severus decides to confront Valentine.  Warnings: Language, Alcohol, bit of the ol’ smut (fingering, orgasm denial)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Start from the beginning

“Just read it Severus, please.” Minerva pleaded. She was sat next to the fire in his high-backed chair, her arm extended holding the letter addressed to Valentine. It was dark outside now, despite the early evening. Christmas was fast approaching, and Severus found his free time was decreasing with each passing day, and he certainly didn’t expect to be spending his evening colluding with Minerva behind Valentine’s back. Severus had managed to stave off Minerva until this evening, until he was sure they could be safe in his rooms, safe and undisturbed. He was annoyed that Minerva had burst the content little bubble he had found that afternoon, he had hoped to enjoy his time, he had thought about asking whether Valentine would like to accompany him for a drink. Though it seemed that yet again, the universe had conspired against his happiness to bring him back to reality. At least it wasn’t Lily this time.  

“I really must protest, Minerva,” Severus said. He could see that Minerva’s face was grave, she was desperate to share whatever knowledge she had gained with him, but Severus felt extremely uncomfortable regarding the entire situation. “Well then, I shall just read it to you-” “Oh, just give it here.” He snarled and snatched the letter from Minerva’s waiting hands. He felt the weight of the letter under his fingertips and wondered how Valentine would feel if she knew that the two of them, her friends had betrayed her privacy in this manner. He lifted the rough parchment from the envelope delicately, almost as if he was scared to touch it. It was a relatively short passage, written seemingly with haste in an unsteady hand.

Daughter, it read.

I am again imploring you to stop this madness. Whilst you see it fit to ignore my previous warnings, I am writing to tell you that they know. You must do all you can to keep yourself safe, dearest. I am not privy to the full extent of their knowledge, but I would be remiss to tell you that they are coming. Please do the right thing. You need not reply to me, Elizabeth. I know it must hurt your heart to think of me so far away from you, as it hurts mine. If all goes well, we shall be together again soon, my little love. But you must promise me that you will do everything in your power to distance yourself from any danger and wait for my return. I promise that when I see you, you will never have another fear, my daughter. If you do decide to send word, you will have to do so using the old channels. We are tying up any loose ends, and you cannot be one of them.

My love, always,

Father

Severus’ hand shook as he reread the letter a few more times. Minerva stayed silent; her hands clasped in her lap as she watched Severus intently. Slowly, he lifted his head and met Minerva’s worried gaze. “What the fuck does this mean?” Severus snarled and shook the letter in his hand. Minerva shrugged her shoulders and let out an exasperated sigh. “I was hoping you might be able to assuage some of my confusion, Severus.” Minerva levelled, she leaned forward in her chair and reached out to take the letter from his hands, she skimmed over the writing once more before she tossed it onto the side table. Severus took a second before he really understood her words, he frowned as he turned to her. “And pray tell Minerva, what exactly you mean by that?” “Come Severus, don’t be coy.” “Coy?” He scoffed. “Hardly.” “I mean you no disrespect, you cannot blame me for trying to put two and two together.” “By all means Minerva, but don’t tarnish me with this brush! I have no part in…whatever this might be.” Minerva’s expression softened then; she extended a hand to Severus who took it hesitantly. He felt a multitude of emotions, from anger regarding Minerva’s accusatory tone; to embarrassment that he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. “My dear boy,” she said sweetly, “In no way do I think this has anything to do with you. I merely thought you might have an idea of what Elizabeth’s father was talking about.” Severus shook his head silently, it always felt strange to him when Minerva spoke to him softly, like a mother. He licked his lips which suddenly felt painfully dry, he felt the Mark on his arm twinge. “No, I don’t. But I think we’ve both got the gist.” Severus said as he stood and turned his back to Minerva and faced the fire. He placed both hands behind his back and sighed. “This doesn’t leave this room, Minerva.”

The older witch dropped her jaw in shock, Severus snuck a glance over this shoulder and saw her looking at him agape. She rounded on him in an instant her hands found his arm and turned him to face her. “Do you not think the headmaster should know about this?” Minerva said incredulously, her eyes were panicked, and Severus bit his lip. “It isn’t that I think he shouldn’t know, its what exactly are we supposed to tell him? You accidentally opened a letter not addressed to you and you have read something that doesn’t entirely make sense-” “But it has come from Azkaban, Severus! Azkaban! Surely you do not disagree that this is concerning?” Minera replied, she shook the letter in his face. “Have you noticed anything suspicious about Elizabeth, Severus? If you have, you need to tell me.”

Severus was taken aback by her forwardness. Of course, he had noticed things that were suspicious, nearly every conversation he had had with Valentine she had lied to him, whether consciously or not. He deliberated whether to tell Minerva that he was almost certain that she lied about why she attended Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts; and that when he had seen her just after she had received word from her father, she told him that he was ‘unfortunately’ in good health. Little things though they seemed when isolated, coupled with this mysterious letter she had received frightened Severus. Why hadn’t she been honest about her father? If her father was indeed imprisoned in Azkaban; his theory that someone she had been close to being involved in the Dark Arts made sense. That chance meeting with Lucius Malfoy they had in Hogsmeade and the unadulterated hostility between them; quite obviously they had met before and now perhaps Severus knew how. Valentine had done nothing but continue to surprise him since she arrived, she had caused him turmoil and now she was making him anxious. What else could she be hiding? If her father’s letter was anything to go by, something was afoot and Valentine was in danger, and that frightened him more than anything else.

“No,” Severus answered finally, Minerva let out a surprised breath, her shoulders slumped slightly. “Nothing.” “Oh, alright then.” She said, “Perhaps this can stay between just us for the time being. Until we can devise a cohesive course of action.” Minerva let the letter fall onto the table and rubbed her hands across her face. She looked tired. “I’m just worried about her, Severus. She has quickly found a special place in my heart and I’m worried that she has possibly found herself tangled in something tricky.” Severus sighed and gestured for her to sit. He moved lazily to his drinks cabinet and produced a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured the cabernet-sauvignon readily into the glasses and filled them nearly to the brim. He placed one down in front of Minerva and tentatively took a sip of his own before settling into the chair opposite her. She stared into the fire silently sipping her wine, Severus eyed her guiltily not knowing what to say. He hated feeling like he was keeping things from her, but he couldn’t justify telling her everything until he knew the truth. He needed to speak with Valentine immediately, he couldn’t let her corrupt his thoughts like she so easily did and extract the truth from her, one way or the other.

It was Minerva who broke the silence eventually, a small smirk on her lips as she looked at him from under her lashes; “I suppose this puts you in a delicate predicament Severus, considering your…intimate relationship with Professor Valentine.” Severus could feel his cheeks warm and his stomach flipped. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He muttered, suddenly incredibly interested in the light reflecting from his wine glass. “You forget the walls have ears Severus, and eyes.” Minerva giggled. Severus groaned and slumped down into his chair. “Truthfully though Severus,” she continued, “I am pleased you’ve found somebody. You deserve to be happy dear, its time you allowed yourself that. Although, I can’t say I’m particularly surprised in your choice.” She raised an eyebrow. Severus brought his glass up to his lips to supress his smirk and thought back over his exploits with Valentine that afternoon. He felt a stirring in his groin as he visualised the look on her face as he made her come, the way she tasted on his lips. “What are we going to do?” Minerva said finally, all traces of joviality erased from her face as she looked at Severus worriedly. “We’re not going to do anything. Because we don’t know anything.” Severus decided, he summoned the letter with his wand and re-sealed the wax, so it appeared to have never been opened. “But you are going to deliver this to Valentine.” Minerva looked at him with a horrified expression. “You can’t be serious, Severus?” “Deadly.” “But! But-” “But,” Severus interrupted, “If she is indeed in danger, she needs to read that letter. Don’t you think?”

Minerva conceded with a nod and took back the letter and placed it in the pocket of her robes. She stood then, her wine finished and walked towards the door. Minerva placed her hand on the handle but paused and turned around to face Severus. “I’m worried Severus,” Minerva whispered. “I know I’ve said it many times this evening but…I just can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen.” Severus smiled stiffly at his friend, and rose to meet her at the door. “If it makes you feel any more at ease, I shall do a little bit of digging. I’ll send owls to some of my old contacts, I’ll let you know if anything comes back. Yes?” Severus said reassuringly, he didn’t want Minerva to see how worried he felt. She smiled at him and placed a soft hand on her cheek before leaving.

Severus left it ten or twenty minutes before he left his chambers. It must be past curfew by now, the corridors were empty and quiet save for the incessant chatter of the Hogwarts ghosts. His feet carried him to Valentine’s rooms almost silently. Before he knew exactly what he was doing his hand was knocking against the cold wood and he was being invited inside. Her private quarters looked completely different compared to the last time he had been here. She had placed flowers on surfaces, lined pictures up on the walls both enchanted and still and every available surface was littered with books in English, French and Welsh. He stood awkwardly before her, like he often did. Valentine on the other hand, comfortable in her own space lounged as well as she could on the hard-backed sofa, a glass of what seemed like port in one hand and a copy of Wuthering Heights in the other.

“Austen?” Severus said as he gestured to the book. “Brontë.” Valentine corrected with a smile. “Would you like to sit? Or are you going to continue your impression of a decorative ornament?” Severus moved slowly to the sofa and perched on the end occupied by her feet, she lifted them up and let him sit. He stared off into space for what seemed an age, though he could feel her eyes on him. She might be in danger and she doesn’t even know it yet, he thought. His old friend the unforgiving guilt returned in the pit of his stomach; his mouth watered as if he would be sick. “Valentine-” “Elizabeth.” She said. “Elizabeth,” Severus corrected himself. He didn’t quite know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, he hoped his brain would catch up. “How are you?” He winced as soon as he said it. For fucks sake, is that all he was capable of? “I’m…fine?” Valentine replied dubiously, she placed her book down and swung her legs underneath her bum in order to face him properly. Why is it he had just noticed she was dressed for bed? Valentine wore little white shorts and a matching shirt that left little to the imagination, and a pair of Ravenclaw Quidditch socks. Severus raised an eyebrow when he saw the socks. “Picking sides already?” he humoured, Valentine looked confused before following his gaze and laughing. “Oh! They were a gift from Filius,” she giggled and fiddled with the fabric of her shorts sitting at the top of her thigh. “He gave me a scarf too, he said it was sad that I didn’t have a house. So, I suppose I’m an honorary Ravenclaw now. Even though I have no interest in Quidditch at all. Never have.” “Well if I’d have known it was that easy, I would have got you a Slytherin uniform.” Severus said, his eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth, he hadn’t meant it like that and yet he smiled ruefully as Valentine’s head rolled back with laughter. “Well, whatever floats your boat, Sev.” She said still laughing, Severus’ smile faltered slightly at the use of his old nickname only really used by two others in his life: his mother and Lily. He tried to shake the memory away as he focused on Valentine’s smiling face. There was so much about her that he didn’t know, and now he found himself in a position he hadn’t been in for such a long time. He wanted to protect her from whatever was written in that letter, but he needed to know everything. “Did you need something from me this evening or is just my company you’re after?” she asked. “A little bit of both.” He said tentatively. “Oh, okay.” Valentine replied brightly, her smile remained as she waited for him to speak. Severus weighed the words heavily on his tongue before he spoke. “I-” Severus started; he shook his head. “I suppose I have some questions…about you.” She looked at him inquisitively. “I know you are acquainted with Lucius Malfoy.” He lied.

Valentine’s expression changed instantly. Her smile transformed into a dark look and her brow slightly furrowed; she raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “And?” Valentine spat; her gaze unwavering. Severus shifted uneasily in his seat. “I wanted to know the extent of your relationship. I too am…acquainted with Lucius Malfoy.” Severus said pointedly, he refused to look away from her face although everything in his body compelled him to. “My father knew him,” Valentine replied after a long while, her face was like stone. “A long time ago.” “Do they not…know each other, for lack of a better word, anymore?” He questioned, he leaned forward in his seat slightly trying to gauge whether she was telling the truth. “No. Not as far as I’m aware.” “And your father,” Severus began, “Is he still in France?” “Yes.”

Lies.

“Elizabeth, are you aware that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater?” Severus said boldly. Valentine sat upright on the sofa; hands curled into fists at her sides. “I’m aware he was under the Imperius Curse, Severus. I read it in the paper.” Valentine retorted without missing a beat. “Yes. Nasty business.” He countered. “You received a letter today.” Fuck, he was doing it. “It was delivered to Minerva by mistake. The return address is Azkaban.” Valentine shook slightly, her face had turned deathly pale. “Who do you know in Azkaban, Elizabeth?” “Have you read it?” “Who was it from?” “Have you, read it?” “No.”  

Valentine seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as Severus lied to her. Severus kept his gaze on her, unflinching. His heart ached in his chest, this woman that he had opened himself up to appeared before him now to be a sly little liar. Capable of what? He didn’t know. “What do you want, Severus?” She snarled; her eyes dark emeralds and her face twisted cruelly. “Like I said, nasty business.” “And what, are you implying with that?” Valentine whispered threateningly. “Not implying, merely…suggesting.” “What?” “It must be easy to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts when you’re surrounded by it.” Severus hadn’t meant to be so cold, but he felt betrayed. He had gone through hell and back again to earn the trust of those around him and now, Valentine, who had since the day she sauntered into his life had been a point of contention within him; was yet again causing him strife. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, Severus. It was a mistake.” Valentine said indifferently, she blinked at him slowly, unfeeling. “Why did you?” He didn’t want to ask, but the question escaped him anyway. She pondered her answer for a while before a cruel smirk crept onto her lips, she tilted her head to the side. “I was bored.”

Severus leapt towards her from his seat and captured her in his arms. He was furious, and he acted on sheer impulse. He brought her lips to his in a thunderous kiss. She resisted him for a moment before throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him on top of her. He kissed her neck roughly using his teeth to graze the skin and she hissed and moaned beneath him. He brought his lips down to her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth, he sucked it and rolled his tongue over the hardened teat. Her hands found themselves in his hair as she cursed into the air above them. She opened her legs and wrapped them around Severus’ waist and bucked her hips upward. He looked up at her from his position and brought two fingers to her lips and pushed them into her mouth, she sucked slowly on his fingers before he removed them with a wanton pop. He brought his hand deftly down her body and plunged it straight into her shorts, finding her already wet. Without hesitation he slid his already lubricated fingers inside her, she moaned loudly with the surprise. He could see a smile emerging on her lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them slightly as they reached far inside her. She shuddered beneath him as he fucked her with his fingers, his thumb rubbing her clit in quick circles. He had never heard noises like the ones she was making, he was so painfully hard his hips rocked involuntarily. He could feel her wetness against his fingers as he continued to finger her, the sounds of her dampness loud in his ears. It wasn’t long before she was moaning louder, telling him she was going to come. Just as he felt her walls begin to tighten around his fingers and her moans became gravelly, he removed his fingers quickly and stood.

Valentine sat up like a shot, her chest heaved heavily, and her face etched with fury. “What the fuck?” she breathed angrily. “My apologies,” Severus said breezily as he swung her door open. “I was bored.”

Avia

Pairing: (F)Reader x Jeongin

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: Guardian Angel!Jeongin || Modern Witch!Reader || Fluff || It’s kinda crack 

Warnings: Demons || Mentions of death || Passed spirits 

Masterlist || Chan - Maive || Minho - Kira || Changbin - Skye || Hyunjin - Nova || Jisung - Blair || Felix - Lia || Seungmin - Raisha 

“More magic?” The voice questions in your head. You nod silently, your mind purely focused on the spell jar you were making. “What is it this time?” 

“A protection jar for myself,” you mutter in response. You hear the voice hum softly in your head, a small sense of validation filling your stomach. You’re aware of the guardian that lingers around you. Ever since you got more in touch with the spiritual world, you realised that an angel was protecting you. The more you got into witchcraft, the more you were able to speak with him. Blair’s ability to see spirits had also helped you into visualising his presence before he had revealed himself to you. 

“Wait,” the voice moves closer. You feel the familiar feeling of him revealing himself to you. “You’re not going to try and buy a cursed object, are you?” Your body freezes in the middle of the spell and you slowly turn in your chair to see Jeongin staring at you with squinted eyes. You let out a nervous laugh before turning your attention back to the spell. “(Y/n).” You can tell just from his tone that he’s warning you. 

“Jeongin, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it,” you wave your hand at him. It doesn’t please him. 

“(Y/n), you can finish the spell jar, but the cursed object will backfire.” You whip your head around to look at him.

“You can’t do that!” you exclaim. 

“You’re right. I can’t,” he clarifies, “but I’m here to protect and guide you, and as your guardian, I’m telling you that it’ll backfire.” Jeongin stands over your altar, his hands on his hips as he gives you a warning glare. “Finish the spell and don’t buy the object.” 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Despite Jeongin’s warning, you bought the object.

“(Y/n)?!” Jeongin booms the moment you step out of the antique store. "I told you not to!" You give him a sheepish smile as you pull the tall bunny statue out of the paper bag in your hands. 

“Okay, but you have to admit,” you hold it out in front of him with a wide smile on your face. “Jeongin, it’s cute!”

“It’s cursed!” he argues. “Why are you the way that you are?” Jeongin grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you feel the energy yet?” 

“I definitely can,” you nod enthusiastically. “That’s the whole reason I got this statue.” The guardian looks up at you and lets out an even louder groan. 

“There is literally a demon behind you, (Y/n).” His eye twitches with annoyance as you turn around, being faced with a very unamused looking demon. 

“Hey,” the demon waves. His dark suit would’ve deceived you if you didn’t know he was already a demon. He looked like a well dressed businessman who could easily trick an unknowing human into tragedy.

“Can we just discuss this at home and not in public where people will stare at us?” Your suggestion makes Jeongin click his tongue in annoyance, agreeing nonetheless because he knows that bringing unwanted attention to you would only put you at risk of more otherworldly harm. You make your way home, both Jeongin and the added presence of the demon following behind you. 

“So what are you?” The demon questions your guardian. 

“Her guardian angel,” he mutters, not really wanting to speak with the demon. 

“A guardian?” You glance over your shoulder when you hear the excitement in the demon’s tone. “If I bring a guardian and a human down with me, I’ll definitely be able to get away from that damn bunny statue.” 

“No, you will not!” Jeongin scoffs. “(Y/n) is under my protection and I won’t let you put your grimey hands on her.”

“Is your magic strong enough to set me free?” The demon’s lips quirk into a smirk. “Let’s make a deal, angel. If you can set me free from that object, I’ll leave your precious human alone.” 

“No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m not making any deals with any demons.” 

“Well, then you’ll have to protect her from the other two spirits that are tied to the statue.” 

“Two?!” You whip your head around and stare at the demon in shock. He only nods, the smug look on his face never disappearing. 

“You’re some kind of a psychic, aren’t you? That’s the whole reason you chose the statue,” his eyes look you up and down. 

“I’m a modern witch,” you claim. 

“Well, witch,” he snorts; it seems the idea of you being a modern witch is laughable to him. “You need to get better with your whole spiritual connection if you didn’t realise there’s more than one being attached to that thing.” He points to the paper bag still in your hands. “Even if you try to throw away the statue, it’s bound to you now, witch.” You turn to Jeongin with wide eyes. 

“I told you,” he says through gritted teeth. You let out an awkward laugh as you turn around, making your way into your apartment building with the beings following.

“How many demons are in here?” you question once you’re in the safety—well, somewhat safety—of your home. 

“I’m the only demon. The other two are just dead people.” 

“Must you refer to us that way?” A voice scoffs before a spirit appears beside the demon, her arms crossed over her chest. The demon throws his hands up in front of himself in defense. 

“It’s the truth, Amaris,” he shrugs. You stare at the new addition with wide eyes. The woman looks to be only around her late twenties, dressed in an old victorian gown with her blonde hair tied into a loose bun.

“You are unbelievable,” she huffs. “At least have some respect for us.” The spirit turns to you. “Don’t mind him. Neo can’t really do anything even though he’s a demon.” She raises an eyebrow as she turns to him. “Such a demon can’t even release himself off of a spell a human casted.” 

“Human witches were powerful back then,” he growls. “It doesn’t matter anyway since we found ourselves another ‘witch’,” he air quotes with his fingers, “that could probably set you, Rose and I free.” 

“Hello?!” Jeongin snaps. “She will not set you free at all!” he turns to you. “(Y/n), you’re getting rid of that statue and the spirits along with it.” 

“Jeongin, if I set the two spirits free, it’s not a bad thing!” you shake your head. His eyes widened in disbelief. “If only one of them is a demon, then I can set the two spirit who aren’t demons free instead!” 

“You will not!” he scoffs. “You don’t even know if they’re truly spirits or not!” 

“Can’t you figure it out? You’re my guardian anyway.” He blinks a few times, staring straight at you before turning his attention to the two beings standing in your living room. 

“Where’s the third one?” Jeongin didn’t need to ask twice. The third spirit appeared behind Amaris the moment he asked; a young woman dressed in what looks like a hospital gown, her dark brown hair tied into a loose ponytail. 

“This is Rose,” Amaris introduces. “Poor girl barely got to live her life before being tied into the statue thanks to the likes of you,” she throws a glare at Neo who shrugs. 

“She was the one who was attracted to the statue in the first place,” he chuckles, his smile sending shivers down your spine. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” you repeat, shaking your head while you try to process everything. “Who was in the statue originally?” Neo raises his hand. 

“I was tied to the statue because a human didn’t want me to pester his mother anymore,” he starts, “the little bastard tied me to the statue when I wasn’t paying attention and threw me away. Our lovely Amaris here found me when she was trying to find a decent gift for her king only to be repaid with death. Young Rose found me while she was trying to find things to pawn off for cash. She wasn’t that hard to bring into the statue.” 

“That is exactly why you should show Rose some compassion,” Amaris nags. 

“Oh, please,” Neo rolls his eyes. “I show her more compassion than I do with you. You wanted to bed the king knowing he had a queen.” You glance at Jeongin, noting how annoyed he looks while the beings start arguing among themselves, Rose watching silently as though she’s completely used to it. You take a few steps closer to Jeongin. 

“What do we do now?” you ask, voice a whisper.  

“Since you thought this was such a good idea,” he turns to you, “you’re banishing the demon. I’ll figure out what to do with the ghost girl and the victorian lady.” 

“Why can’t you take the demon and I take the spirits?” 

“Because you bought the statue even though I clearly told you not to.” He doesn’t say anything more before disappearing, leaving you to tend to the new spirits. You let out a heavy sigh when you realise Amaris and Neo are still arguing with each other. You take a few steps closer to Rose, pulling her aside. 

“Are they always like this?” you ask softly. She nods silently. “Not much of a talker, huh?” You turn your attention back to the bickering pair, realising that it was a good idea to have your bedroom more protected than your entire home. At least then they won’t be able to bother you while you’re sleeping. 

“I know what to do with Neo,” Jeongin announces softly when he returns. “The deities are a bit iffy—I wonder why,” he rolls his eyes, making you punch his shoulder in response. He scowls at you. “They’re having a word with the big guy downstairs. They said if the king won’t take Neo back, then we’ll just have to banish him ourselves. In terms of the spirits, Amaris isn’t dangerous, but something’s a big off about Rose.”

“Neo said she’s just a spirit, right? Then I’ll just set her free.” you turn to him. The guardian gives you a look that you can’t quite read before turning to Rose. 

“You need to tell me where you came from so that we can take you back home,” he tells her gently, “we won’t hurt you, Rose. We want to help you.” The girl looks up at him and only then you notice just how dead she looks. Compared to Amaris who glows as though she’s still alive, Rose’s eyes look dead and sullen, skin pale. “If you could just tell us where you passed, we can release your soul there.”  

“We only mean good, Rose,” you speak up, earning a soft sense of gratitude from your angel. The two of you watch as she looks around your apartment—as though she can sense your magic—before turning back to you. Her pale hand raises and points to the pendant hanging from your neck, signalling for you to take it off. You look down at the pendant, not hesitating to take it off when a voice enters your mind. 

“Stop,” Jeongin’s voice quickly snaps in your mind. “That’s your protection. Something’s not right.” You see for a moment the way Rose’s eyes seem to flicker knowingly before she tries asking once more. 

“I can’t do that,” you shake your head as you take a step closer to Jeongin. Your living room starts to feel threatening, fear slowly creeping up inside of you. 

“Why do you need her to take off her protection?” he asks as he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you closer. From the way his wings wrap around you ever so slightly, you know his protective instincts are kicking in. “You’re not a normal spirit,” Jeongin claims, his wings tightening around your frame and only pulling you closer. It seems that his claim had caught the attention of Amaris and Neo, both of them turning to see what was happening. 

“Stop it, darling,” Amaris smacks her shoulder. “They want to help.” Rose turns to her, giving her a silent look before the older spirit rolls her eyes. “Excuse Rose. She’s just as mischievous as Neo is.”

“Quite the guardian, aren’t you?” Neo teases, a bemused smirk on his way from the sight of Jeongin holding onto you so tightly. 

“Guardian, I promise that they can’t do any harm to you or your human,” she reasons. “We just want to be set free.” 

“I can only set you free,” Jeongin gestures to Amaris. “Rose has to go with the statue and Neo has to go back under.” The both of you could barely blink before Rose was standing right in front of you, her eyes wide; silently demanding be set free. Jeongin only pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his side, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Back off or I’ll send you to where Neo came from,” he growls. “Know your limits when you’re going against a guardian, spirit.” His eyes glare into her lifeless eyes and for a moment, you see fear flash in her eyes before she steps back. “You guys are allowed to be here until we figure out where to leave you. Until then, you’re not allowed to even touch (Y/n).” Jeongin pulls you into your bedroom without another word to the beings, closing the door behind him. You let out a heavy sigh as you sit yourself at the foot of your bed, taking in the situation you had just put yourself in. “I’ll handle Rose and Neo,” he speaks up, “you just have to unbind Amaris from the statue.” 

“I thought you were giving me Neo to handle,” you look up at him. 

“Yeah, well, you’re still a beginner,” Jeongin sits beside you. “I can’t afford to lose you just because I wanted to teach you a lesson.” 

“Did I make things too difficult?” you question, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip when you realise just how frustrated he is. 

“It’s okay,” he shakes his head, turning to you with a small smile. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll get another angel to come down and help us.” You give him a doubtful look, afraid that you’ve dug too deep a hole. “Don’t worry about it, (Y/n).” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your head to lean on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Jisung said Blair’s summoning a demon, too, so now you guys have more things in common.” 

“Is she?” you gasp, pulling away to look at him. Jeongin nods. “Oh god, I need to cast a protection spell for her too then.” You stand up from your bed, rushing to your altar while your guardian watches, an amused smile on his face. He knows you’re excited for your spiritual journey. With how you perk up when you get the slightest of signs and how bright you get whenever you realise that a spell is actually working, Jeongin should’ve expected that you’d get a little too excited over the idea of trying to banish a demon yourself. Jeongin makes his way over to your altar, his hands on your shoulders as he leans closer. 

“Don’t forget to cleanse,” he reminds you while holding out an incense stick in front of you. Your body freezes. “It could be Neo’s energy interfering with your space.” 

“Thanks,” you thank him sheepishly as you take the stick from his hand. Once lit, you sit back in your chair as you watch the smoke wisp into the air, Jeongin by your side. “Sorry for bringing the demon here.” 

“It’s okay,” he hums, his hand resting on your shoulder. “It’s all for experience. I’ll be by your side until you become a powerful witch.” Jeongin gives you a wide smile. “And I’ll be here even after.” 

“Thank you, Jeongin,” you smile at him. 

“But if you summon a demon again even when I tell you not to, you’ll have to handle them on your own,” he warns, his eyes switching to serious. You chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Next time I wanna summon a demon, I’ll listen to you.” 

How can you not use techniques? Although affirmations are thoughts and not exactly techniques so, I understand why visualisation isn't necessary. With affirmations you are supposed to get an image once you affirm. How can you live in the end if you do not affirm? Just by knowing that it is yours? I mean how would you change the inner mental chatter? Also I saw a post from another account saying that someone had been successfully manifesting for years and yet they were stuck with a manifestation for 15 but they weren't worried because they were living in the end. How can it take that long if they already know how to do it and have been doing it for a long time? I mean, unless they are trying to manifest something like super powers I don't get how it can possibly take that long, it's rather discouraging. How can you live in the end when the 3d is right there?

We have been manifesting all of our lives. Were we thinking about which techniques we should use back then? Nope! We just manifested. The good, the bad, all of it. Of course, we didn’t know about our power back then so we didn’t always get the things we wanted. But, we were manifesting without techniques nonetheless. When we get to these teachings, the techniques are there to HELP us. The law is literally calling for us to rewire our brains. But the thing is, what are techniques without us? They’re nothing. People often get caught up in using techniques to get them what they want. But no, we’re Gods. You’re the reason you’re getting what you want. Affirmations/SATS/scripting, etc only supported you. But it’s YOU who has the power. We can have what we want regardless. The techniques just help us change states and live in the end. This is why I, and many others, advocate for remembering who you truly are. Manifestation is a lifestyle. Not a you got what you want, now you can turn it off and go back to normal type thing.

I barely affirm anymore, at least not on loops. I don’t feel the need to. I have blanket affirmations I go back to, but I really don’t sit there looping them. I use them more as reminders. Before I learned of the law, when I was manifesting my life from hell, I was simply thinking. So naturally for me, I just use a mental diet and occasionally visualization when I want to. In the beginning of my journey I would loop all the time. But I don’t feel the need to anymore. As I’ve persisted on this journey, I am getting better at my desirable manifestations being effortless. As I continue to remember who I am more often and relax into a strong feeling of knowing the law is true and always working. I guess this is how you move out of needing techniques and your mental chatter is able to easily fall in line with the states you choose to dwell in.

Also, I saw that post too! Absolutely wild lmao Like, good for that person for persisting anyway. But I’ll say this, we often forget one little thing, which is why I’ve slowly began taking other’s stories (such as the one mentioned) with a grain of salt. We are literally always creating, always experiencing in the 3D our own minds... so I mean... if you have a fear of your manifestations taking forever (which, in all honesty, I have too) then of course you would see this and get scared. Meanwhile, that person could have gotten their manifestation in 15 hours. You can literally only experience your own reality. You don’t actually KNOW what they experienced at all. I’d love to say something else encouraging, but this is the truth. When we talk like there’s literally other people, we are giving away our power. How can we say “I AM the operant power of my reality.” Then think someone else is manifesting in our reality? haha It makes no sense and you can’t be of two minds. Neville says this, and it’s true. You must choose, as it will help make your own inner world more peaceful.

That being said, you literally make the rules. So, I wouldn’t worry much about the illusion of someone else’s manifestation taking years. haha I remember I saw somewhere, a really good comment someone made. She was like, “y’all. Don’t worry about someone else not having their sp. It’s just your own fear being shown to you. In fact, they probably do have their sp in their reality.” And this honestly goes for anything. Success stories, yes, use them as motivation. But unsuccessful stories? Use them to learn, if you want to. But don’t allow them to fuel your doubts and fears, when you’re the creator in the first place. God (you!!!) is Love. Why focus on the unwanted realities when you can focus on the desirable ones? You do have a choice. You are God.

I’m gonna be so honest with you guys. The more you do this for YOU and not for your manifestation (which is literally going to come to pass even when you focus on yourself... it’s the law!!!!!) it becomes so much easier. That’s how living in the end when the 3D is right there becomes easier. When you allow yourself to accept you are God and your imagination is more real than the 3D, yes, it becomes so much easier. When you accept that the 3D is literally just a mirror of you and the law is fact (it’s inevitable and always working!!) it all becomes so much easier!!

Hopefully this is helpful! 💖

Memories in feelings

8th June 2021

This will be my (Jane Milton’s) last blog post before handing over to the new Melanie Klein Trust archivist, Christine English. I know that Christine has already identified some very interesting archival material that she will be sharing on the blog - which I am certainly looking forward to reading.

So, to round off my always stimulating, fruitful time exploring the Klein archives (though I will continue to refer to them) here are some clinical notes I came across recently, which I hope will be thought-provoking.

Klein discusses what she calls ‘memories in feelings’ several times in the third and fourth volumes of her Writings. For example, an important footnote to page 180 of Envy and Gratitude reads:

All this [referring to early phantasies concerning the breast] is felt by the infant in much more primitive ways than language can express. When these pre-verbal emotions and phantasies are revived in the transference situation, they appear as ‘memories in feelings’, as I would call them, and are reconstructed and put into words with the help of the analyst. In the same way, words have to be used when we are reconstructing and describing other phenomena belonging to the early stages of development. In fact we cannot translate the language of the unconscious into consciousness without lending it words from our conscious realm (Klein 1957).

In archive file PP/KLE/D.11, I found a detailed and complicated example of a ‘memory in feeling’, together with Klein’s interpretations of and reflections on it, in the analysis of a man in his late forties, whom she calls ‘Mr X’.

In the second half of file D.11, Klein discusses the difficulties that the patient is having, in integrating feelings towards his parents with the analytic transference situation. The analyst is sometimes spared the complex and contradictory negative feelings felt towards the primary objects, while, at other times, the situation with the parents is idealised, and the analysis and analyst denigrated. The following material appears in the digitised collection as images 18, 20 and 22-28 (omitting some pages which are crossed out and do not appear to belong to the sequence):

---

I could give you many more instances of attitudes, which have all in common the attempt on the part of the patient to avoid a synthesis between the various aspects of figures and relations, which have come to focus on the analyst. The point here is that the synthesis, which the patient has not been able to establish sufficiently in the past is bound up in the various anxieties coming to the fore. The analyst is loved and hated, as other people in the patient’s life were earlier on, and the patient resorts to all sorts of defences and among them the process of splitting figures and situations, in order to avoid the relations that these various aspects represent, the various aspects of the mother and father. It is, therefore, our work to help him to experience again and again - and this is a slow process we know - the realisation, that he has only divided up, split his ego, his relations with people, and the people themselves, in the attempt to avoid conflict, anxiety and guilt. Our interpretations aim at synthesis, but the synthesis can only be achieved piecemeal, and again and again the patient has to be confronted with experiencing conflict and suffering, which he has tried to avoid in the past.

Re memories in feelings: (to George)

[George is a child Klein saw between the ages of 3 and 8, in the 1930s, who appears in two of the ‘restricted’ files B.39 and B.40]

This brings me to a point which applies to adults as well as to some extent to children. We know how important it is to revive in our patients[’] memories. We however also know that such memories can be extremely falsified. This is included in the concept of cover memories. So while it is beneficial to get as many memories as possible, it is in connection with emotions, desires, anxieties which partly led to these memories, and which these past experiences were connected with, that we have to understand any situation in the past as well as in the present. We should never rest content with just having past experiences as it were reconstructed in the analysis, because we must not treat them as it were as isolated events. Only if we are able to bring out the whole situation of feelings, anxieties, fitting into the development as a whole, we can feel that we have benefitted sufficiently from the revival of memories. Now there would probably be no difference of opinion on that point. I still think it is worthwhile mentioning, for there are stages of development of which we cannot get memories in the full sense of the word, expressed by words, and in the clear-cut way in which memories of a later stage may appear. And yet they are memories of feelings.

Refer back to Mary in this connection - reproducing the situation of the baby (lamb) with all the oral details attached to it [it is not clear to whom Klein is referring here]

A VERY EARLY MEMORY IN FEELING

Man Patient X (age: just under fifty) 8th February 1946

In identification with the little child who was teething and woke at night repeatedly crying, the father felt suddenly, having just woken from sleep, what an “awful thing was going on in the child”. He had a vision of something growing out of the soft mouth, flesh being contrasted here to something very hard like spikes which were somehow thrust on him (because by now he felt it happening to himself and not to the child) and being forced to push these spikes together. (this was shown by a gesture). And a terrible feeling how awful that must be. At this moment, when visualising the spikes coming together, he had a vision of these hard things outside him, and “death-head” was the next association to it. The feeling of grievance that he could not stop that happening, that this whole thing had been thrust on him, that something had made these spikes come out, and that he had no more control over these spikes because again something forced him to push these spikes together.

Now these feelings he found extremely difficult to put into words, while he was otherwise very vocal. It seemed as if they just could not be put into words. And he fully agreed when I suggested that this incapacity was due to the fact that such things may be felt but not thought of in words at a very early stage. The one stimulus for experiencing what quite obviously was a memory in feeling was the identification with the little daughter. Another is the transference situation at the moment.

In the preceding hour some guilt about leaving the responsibility all his life too much with other people, or rather a tendency towards that which was very much controlled, had come up. Facing that, a very high appreciation of the value of the analysis and the effects, and a feeling of unworthiness in having it, had become quite clear. A particular association was leaving the responsibility for sweets (tuck at school) with the mother. He would not take sweets with him after the holidays, but she should rather send them. They were packed into a tin, and there seemed something very wrong about that, an inexplicable feeling that it was not, as it were, her job to send them in a way which left some responsibility with her which she should not have. This had connected with feelings that however valuable the analysis might be, he does not make the best of it, or won’t do in the future.

My suggestion in the preceding hour had been that he would use the interpretations, and the analysis, in the wrong way, that he would not make the best of it. Now an association produced on the 7th was that after having left me, at the moment of going out of the room, he had suddenly had an association that in fact he would make use of the analysis in such a way that it would improve his earning capacity, and he disliked the thought that he would use it to make money.

Now there are here two trends of thought which became quite clear in the present hour: The good thing, the milk, the nipple, taken in would be changed into faeces and thus be completely destroyed – money making – bad purposes.

This is the way in which the nipple, and now my interpretations, would be treated while being taken in. The object would be destroyed, the “death head”, which himself felt was a later elaboration of what was felt dangerously destroyed in those early days, is the object- in this case me. Therefor the tin in which the sweets were packed is not only his inside in which he should not take the sweets, but it is more specifically the mouth and the teeth (the edges of the tin).

The very strong feeling that it was not his fault, because it was pushed, thrust on him, seems to connect with the nipple being pushed into him. And here the object itself becomes the teeth, a condensation of what is being done to the object and reflected in his attitude towards him. Also why was the nipple given to him? But there seemed to have been in fact at the very beginning of feeding great difficulties because the mother had been very ill, and X has a feeling- not supported by what he had heard- that for some time she could not have fed him. In his view, since she was so ill at his birth, some weeks could have elapsed before she could feed him. A view which seems rather phantastic when he was going over it in this hour, because what would have happened to the milk?

He had been told that his breast feeding otherwise had been normal up to about 8 months but with the strong feeling that to begin with there had been a long gap, a very long time before he started on it. The present impression was that he might have had very great difficulties in taking the nipple, perhaps because of a break in the beginning or perhaps because of fears, as the mother, who was on the whole affectionate and patient, was apt to be erratic and if things did not go well, impatient. The possibility appears that if at the beginning of the feeding there had been difficulties due to starting a little too late with the breast being given and to his difficulties, she might have been impatient and thrust the nipple into his mouth.

Very fundamental attitudes seem to be connected with this. Incapacity to make use of very great gifts in him, of choosing, or trying to get the best thing, to make use of opportunities – against that in the same way a tendency to thrust responsibility on to others which was in fact not carried out. A very strong drive to get the best opportunities and also to make use of them, but with a constant conflict over these two attitudes which no doubt had to some extent a paralysing effect.

An interesting point is the vision of the “death head” in front of the mouth, outside. It seems to show so closely the process of the object still outside and at the same time already internalised and again externalised – on the boundary. As well as the actual external object, the nipple, changed into this destroyed object.

Memories in feelings are not an unknown fact. But this should be put versus what is called “memories”. I find them in such ways also with adults, that the whole situation becomes alive. All this shows in attitudes and is connected with the transference situation.

--------------------------

References:

Klein, Melanie (1957) Envy and Gratitude. In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works, The Writings of Melanie Klein Volume III. London: Hogarth 1975.

The Demon You Know

CW: repressed childhood memories, childhood trauma, drowning, detachment, child with depression (?), anxiety, nausea, pain, angst.

It gets a little abstract because my brain’s been in a funny place lately. Hopefully it makes sense, but if it’s not clear, pleeease tell me. 

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board Pt.11

The headache came on so suddenly that he knew it must have been Rin arriving at the house, Ouija board in tow. Charlie grunted and hoisted himself up from the sofa, wincing and holding one hand to his temple, one to his stomach, willing it to stay settled through the pain. His dad had made pancakes for dinner before he and Charlie’s mum had taken off again for the new house, and he had no desire to see them again, splattered across the coffee table.

Days had passed since Charlie had seen Shayne, and he honestly wasn’t sure that he wanted to anymore. Ingrid and Trevor had returned for a few days, and had seemed determined to keep him occupied with movies and drives and takeaway food. Charlie couldn’t tell if they had sensed he was upset about something, or if they were buttering him up for more bad news. He’d accepted their attention with as much gratitude and as many smiles as he could muster, which was plenty. He was used to making himself appear happy, because it made them happy. And in turn, he felt a little less guilty for being a weight on their marriage, their lives, their plans. He also knew that, soon enough, he’d be as distant from both of them as Jonathan already was from their dad.

Charlie went to open the front door, wondering why he’d heard Rin’s car’s engine stop a few minutes ago, with no sign of her coming to the door.

Rin looked up as she walked from her car to the doorway. Her hair was in two buns, her neck wrapped in a thick scarf. The package under her arm made Charlie want to recoil from the doorway, but he held his ground, trying not to let his panic show on his face as his gaze fell upon a second figure, who was a few steps behind Rin.

He somehow looked worse than the last time Charlie had seen him, and this did nothing to help the sense of dread piling itself onto Charlie’s headache.

“Hi,” Charlie said to Rin, reaching out an arm for a hug as she approached, holding the package out to the side so it wouldn’t touch him. He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his head, maybe a little too harshly, against her shoulder.

“You alright, Charlie Bear?” she whispered.

“Mmhmm, I’m fine, Rin, I just…” He trailed off, words disappearing and leaving only a sour taste on his tongue.

Rin nodded in understanding and tickled at his back.

“How are – how are you?” he asked as he pulled back, standing out of the way so she could come into the hallway.

“Oh, you know,” she sighed. She glanced down at the package under her arm, pulling it out and holding it flat across both her hands. “At least things never stay boring around here for too long, right?”

Charlie hummed in agreement and gestured for her to go through to the front room, where he’d set the coffee table up in the centre of the floor with sofa cushions on either side. She half-smiled at him before carrying the board to the table.

He glanced back towards the driveway. Shayne was hesitating by the steps, like he still hadn’t decided if he was going to come in or not. He looked down and kicked lightly at the gravel with the toe of his boot.

“Waiting for me to –?” Charlie pressed a hand to his head as a spike of pain rippled above his left eye. Well, I’m sorry, but what do you expect? “Waiting for me to invite you over the threshold?”

“I – I was in the forest, and I heard Rin’s car,” Shayne mumbled as he walked past Charlie. “An invite might have been nice –”

“Yeah, except you don’t look at your phone, and you’ve forbidden any of us from coming to your house.”

Shayne scoffed and sat himself next to Rin, eyes glazing over slightly as he watched her starting to set up the board. 

“Come on, Charlie Bear,” Rin called out. “Let’s get started.”

 ___

h-e-l-e-a-v-e-s

Charlie met Rin’s gaze across the table, and she met his. This was the first thing they’d managed to wrangle out of the board since they’d started.

“Was that you?” Rin whispered as the planchet stopped moving beneath their respective fingertips.

“N-no,” Charlie said, cold fear traveling through his bones. He - he certainly hadn’t felt himself directing the little token over those letters. He was still reeling with relief that, after the first three letters, it hadn’t gone on to simply spell the word “hell” as he’d feared for a moment.

“Shayne?” Rin asked.

Shayne gave her a dull look. “Why would I bother?”

Ignoring the remark, Rin looked at Charlie again. “’He leaves’. Does – does it mean you, Charlie? The demon doesn’t want you living here, in this house?”

Charlie slowly shook his head. That didn’t make any sense, did it? Charlie Two had seemingly been with him for a long time, before his parents had bought the Mulberry house.

“It means me.”

Nausea tugged at Charlie’s gut as one finger left the planchet. Shayne let out a huff before getting to his feet.

“Wait, I don’t even know if you can –” Rin drew a deep breath and sighed at having someone leave the board unexpectedly. “Are you sure that’s what it means?”

“Of course.” Shayne winced slightly, his hand almost reaching for his stomach before he stopped it. “Why walk yourself into the shark’s jaw, right?”

“Come on, babe,” Rin chided softly, “don’t take it like that.”

“Like what, Rin? Like I’m a big, black hole that people and demons alike cower away from?”

“Shayne, hang on.” Charlie’s voice was low from the quivering sadness in his chest. He desperately wanted to abandon the Ouija board and go to Shayne, but something in his bones was keeping him from moving. “This whole week, I – I want to just forget about it, okay? Everything you said, and – and what happened with us, I’m – I’m sorry.”

“That’s the problem, Charlie.” Shayne paused and turned in the doorway to the front hall. His hand went towards his stomach again, and he didn’t stop it this time. “Half of you is terrified of me, and the other half is just fucking sorry for me.”

The threat of bursting into tears was too overwhelming by now, and the pain in Charlie’s skull was almost blinding. He was impressed that he’d managed to stay sitting upright this long. He looked down at his lap, coloured spots dancing in his vision. “Alright, then. Go.”

Shayne muttered something that was halfway between a “yeah” and an “mmhmm”. Charlie couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest as he heard him leave through the front door.

“Hey,” Rin whispered, squeezing his arm with her free hand. “This is working, Charlie, aren’t you excited?”

“I love him, Rin.”

Her hand dropped away. “I know, Charlie Bear,” she sighed.

Swallowing thickly, Charlie lowered his head and let out a choked sob. It was as though the words had been living in his chest for quite some time, and now that they were out, he was left a little hollow.

“Let’s just get through this. We can chat after, okay? Charlie”

The next time Charlie attempted to blink or lift his head, his muscles resisted him. He wanted to say something, anything, but his lips were - they were so cold, and his lungs couldn’t draw enough air -

“Charlie?” Rin gave Charlie’s arm a shake. 

“The b-b-beach,” Charlie whispered, through it felt like his lips were hanging too far from his mouth, unable to form the words correctly. “Are we at the beach again?”

“The beach?” Rin repeated. “What are you talking about, Charlie Bear? You’re in the Mulberry house with me. Rin.”

Charlie finally completed a single blink, and tears fell from his eyelashes. He couldn’t stop the trembling that travelled down his arms and into his fingertips. He felt like he was about to fall through the floor, only being anchored in place by the finger he had on the planchet. It felt as though he would disappear if he let go.

“M-M-Mum,” he sobbed out suddenly, pain shooting from his head all the way to his heart. “Where’d you – where did everyone go?”

“Charlie, listen to me,” Rin sputtered. “You’re here with me. With Rin?”

Charlie One had known hearts could break. He’d known they could be stolen. Hell, he’d had those things happen to him, so he knew what they should have felt like. But he’d never imagined hearts could be chopped in half and separated like slabs of meat on a butcher’s table.

“Th-th-they don’t w-w-want me,” Charlie stammered. “They never wanted me.”

The pain was physically agonising, yet his body felt too numb to react to it.

“Where did you go?” he mumbled, searching for something inside himself that he couldn’t quite visualise. “Do you not want me anymore either?”

The last thing he heard was Rin’s horrified scream as his eyeballs rolled back in his head, his body swaying in its last seconds of remaining upright, before he collapsed against the floor.

___

Charlie ran barefoot across the sand, leaving tiny footprints behind in the sunshine. The tuneless squawking of seagulls and the rushing of the waves overwhelmed his senses. He didn’t understand it. His cousins loved the beach, and they’d all been giggling and splashing one another in the water, but not Charlie. Charlie didn’t like it. Charlie wanted his mummy. He was breathing calmly because he knew he’d find her. He just needed to find the bright blue screen that they’d set up around their towels and the portable barbeque. It was all here somewhere, a little, temporary oasis of domesticity in the chaos of screaming children and screaming birds.

Finally, there it was. All of the noise and the brightness seemed softer, easier to cope with, once a hug from his mummy was within his sights. He slowed his pace as he got closer, finally able to hear her voice as she chatted happily with her sisters.

“– didn’t want to at the time,” she was saying to his auntie, “but it was my decision to make, Tina. Charlie might be an accident, but ending a baby’s life was just not something I was prepared to do. You have to understand that? I’d never have been able to live with myself, and every day since, I’ve made that same decision over and over again...”

Charlie felt like the sand was going to swallow his feet. He started running again, thinking if he kept moving, it couldn’t take him. He’d just keep moving, never sticking, never ever thinking...

___

Charlie One gasped and blinked, the image of that white face in the dark cave replaced by the same white face in the front room of the Mulberry house. It leaned across the Ouija board, a long, dark digit resting on the planchet. The demon peered down at him as he lay motionless on the floor, deaf and numb to Rin’s desperate attempts to rouse him.

You’re here, he thought.

“Always,” Charlie Two said, and Charlie One detected a smile lingering beyond the unmoving jaw of their skull.

 ___

Charlie ran barefoot across the jagged rocks, not really thinking about where he was going but knowing he didn’t want to turn around. It was like something dark and sticky was chasing him and somehow he knew it wouldn’t follow him into the caverns.

It grew so dark so quickly that he began to slow down, no longer able to see which rocks he needed to step over. When he fell, he didn’t see how far he dropped, or how many sharp rocks he landed on; he just knew that it hurt, and he was gasping too much to cry out for help. Who would even find him in here, anyway? Who would even care, who would want him enough to come and help him?

The ground cut his feet. He knocked his head against rocks jutting out from the cave walls, because he couldn’t see them. Eventually, he turned his head and could no longer see anything but a sliver of sea, a sliver of sky. The cries of the birds and the drone of human activity didn’t reach this place. It was as if he didn’t exist in the same world he’d been in just minutes before.

“Are you okay?”

Fingers reached out in the dark and scared the boy so much that he began to run again. The creature to whom the fingers belonged should have known better, would have if they had been thinking clearer. For they knew of the small plunge pool just ahead, and the small child did not.

Charlie screamed as the ground - painful as it was to run on barefoot - dropped away, and water swallowed him up. He gulped, and he screamed, and he gulped, and it felt as though he’d be screaming and gulping endlessly for the rest of his life, without relief, without end, because who, who would come to save him?

“Stop crying. I’m here now.”

Charlie didn’t know where the air had suddenly come from, but he gasped it gratefully into his lungs, small hands clutching at the thing that anchored him to the rocks, to the world, to himself. He didn’t know where the words floated up from, but he gained control of his wet coughing long enough to ask; “Will you s-stay with me, please?”

The demon embraced the child, too weak to deny such a simple request, so simply asked. “Always.”

Truth or Dare - Part Five

-

VERY REQUESTED (i’m sorry for the long ass wait)

-

Warnings!: Includes swearing and detailed sexual images (female masturbation)

-

Oh wow okay. His? I hate the fact that I heard ‘back to mine’ and internally started worrying about the fact that I haven’t shaved, I’m not mentally prepared at all, and I’m an absolute sucker for anything this boy does. It must be hypnotics or something. But I haven’t shaved. I’m not like a monster - I’m not that hairy - but I ain’t smooth. But he is. His words are too smooth. He must do this often. I mean, look at him. Imagine a guy looking like THAT and being unsmooth. It just wouldn’t happen. We get to his, and it’s this nicely done up house which is cosy and cute. It’s somehow exactly what I imagined. Not that I’ve imagined it too often... The fingers on my right hand rub against the top of a unit. They stop at a picture frame, which I pick up. “Is this you and your mum?” I ask, totally in awe at the adorable photo. Monty’s probably 13/14 in it. Both of their faces are smushed together with the biggest grins on their faces. “So cute,” I smirk towards him. I wish I could say I see a slight bit of awkwardness in his face, but he plays it off so cool. “I’ll get you a drink, you can make your way up to my room if you want,” he smiles. 1. That’s so cute. 2. Okayyyyyy. Photo frames line up the side of the stairs. They’re all so happy, and Monty continues to be so fucking cute as a child! There’s no shock there either I guess.

No part of me feels nosey, which it should, as I look around Monty’s room. It’s pretty basic. Baseball shit on the wall, trophy’s placed proudly on shelves. It’s quite tidy though. There may be a few clothes on the floor and some shit shattered, but it’s honestly probably tidier than my room. He hands me a glass, which is very clear. His eyes lock on me as I sniff the contents of the glass. He lets out a laugh. “It’s just water.” After confirming that for me, I take a sip. “Yours is water too?” I ask. I’ve never seen this guy drink anything other than alcohol. “I have practise later so.” And then there’s silence. Fuuuuuuuuck.

It quickly becomes less awkward. Me and Monty hardly talked 2 days ago, and now we’re laughing around in his room. It doesn’t just happen. But it did. “I didn’t know you were this good,” I say, not in a rude way, as I admire one of the trophy’s. “I’m no ‘Bryce Walker’, but I’m alright I guess,” humble? This is NOT the Monty I know. “Didn’t you used to be a cheerleader?” Oh god. Bring up the old memories why don’t you. I let out a small laugh. “I’m surprised you would remember such an insignificant thing like that, but yeah I guess. I was shit at it though.” “Well the main part of being a cheerleader is to be sexy and distract the players right?” A smile spreads across my face, shaking my head slowly at the words flowing out of his mouth. “It is, and I have to say I’m definitely distracted,” as he spoke his words, he started making his way towards me. He so irresistible. Ffs. He just there, right in front of me, smiling because HE KNOWS he has me right where he wants me. “You’re such a flirt Cruz,” I go to push his head softly and playfully, but my hand just stays placed on his cheek. “You’re so distracting Y/L/N.” Move Y/N. Say something! But I can’t say something. I can’t say anything. The Monty I knew- thought I knew- is not the guy sat in front of me. Where’s the guy who pushed Tyler Down into the lockers on multiple occasions. He’s always been the bad boy you’re not meant to like, but they’re always the attractive ones so you do anyway. This is too tempting. My words are stuck in my throat, not that I even know what to say. He knows what he’s doing. And it’s working! He moves his head slowly closer to mine, and I just wanted to pull it closer faster. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down my spine. Hovering lips almost touch then... my phone rings. His body throws itself back on his bed. Defeated. “Shit, it’s my mum.” I let out in a whisper. Every inch of my being wants to just ignore it, but my mum with never forgive me. EVER! “Hey mum!” I answer as enthusiastically as I can. She mumbles on about how she’s cooking tea before she’s goes out. And my little sister will need me. Blah blah blah. Way to kill a mood mum. “I have to go,” I break to him slowly. “I figured, I guess we’ll just have to continue another time,” I raise my eyebrows. Grabbing my bag, I go to show myself out. Something about leaving makes words I couldn’t find earlier come spiralling out. Words I didn’t intend on saying. “You can call me though, if you’d like,” I shrug. Confidence? Who is she? I don’t recognise me.

A strong, slightly chilly breeze guides me home. It’s nice to actually clear my head. To think so much has happened over the past few days, ever since that stupid party and an even sillier game. I’d like to believe that it’s for the best that my mum rang me when she did. Although I doubt it, maybe I’d regret flirting with Monty more. Who am I kidding, I’m pissed. But at least the sky is clear, even if my head isn’t. It’s muddled and tangled and, well, fucked. The best thing for me to do is push Monty, and all the other boys, out. I don’t care; It’s just a little game: As fun as it is, it’s a no.

“Where were you after school?” My 7 year old sister Y/S/N asks. I know all children are annoying, but she actually not too bad. Sure she smells and screams and just pretends to be angelic for mum, but I’ve seen worse. Oh and she’s nosey. Sometimes I think mum puts her up to this. “I was at a friend’s, why?” I smile. Purely out of happiness, not because I was hanging out with Monty. We sit at the dining table. Y/S/N has not moved from her seat since I’ve got home, so neither have I. Shes rather artistic. We draw and colour and doodle. It’s actually extremely relaxing. “Mummy thinks you have a boyfriend,” her tone is ‘know-it-all’ if that makes sense. At least I’m not lying. “Well I’ll tell mummy that I don’t. I wish!” I gasp, making her giggle. “Yeah, you’re lonely!” “Hey! I shout jokingly. “You just continue doing your colouring missy,” i reach my hands towards her, tickling her all over her body until she’s red in the face.

Do you ever just close your eyes and make up scenarios in your head? It’s sounds crazy I know! But I just lay down and visualize things that are just unrealistic sometimes. I did say that I was going to push Monty out, but I meant out of my life. Thinking about him is nothing. He won’t even know. The clock reads 11:57, and my head remains on hyperspeed. I can’t get the thoughts of Monty out. Images of him smirking. The sound of him being smug. The feeling of him underneath me as I ground on him. I squeeze my eyes shut, already regretting the movement of my hand. I could search for some willpower. If I did, I’m sure I’d find some. But I have no willpower to search for willpower right now. My hand reaches my vagina, shooting immediate pleasure through my body. I hold it still for a second, wondering if this will push me too far towards Monty. I don’t want anything, like this, to do with Monty. But he’s so fucking hot.

I let my fingers move. Flashes of Monty shoot through my head. It weird how you can imagine things that you haven’t seen happen. Like it’s weird how, laid here right now, I have the ability to imagine Montgomery in any way I’d like. As I rub soft circles against my clit, I visualise myself laid in sexy lingerie on Monty’s bed. It’s the same blue sheets with white lines all over them. I can feel the mattress beneath me. I can see Monty in nothing but white boxers crawling on top of me. My breath heightens at the thought of feeling his breath against my face once again. I change the rhythm of my fingers, slowly sinking a single digit into my core. A slight moan escapes my mouth. In my head, Monty kisses down between my breasts, his right hand squeezing one as he trails down my body: all the way down to the top of my panties. One finger turns to two. I can’t help but get wetter and wetter at my own vivid imagination. That’s all it is. I’m only imagining Monty’s slightly rough fingertips against my skin as he pulls my things down and throws them across the room. But it feels so good! Our eyes lock, and he’d say something like ‘are you ready baby’. The deepness of his voice would send me to a different dimension. He’d hook his arms around my thighs, pulling me down closer to him. I wiggle to get into a comfier position. The toes at the very end of my body begin to curl quite violently. His head would be buried into my pussy, which makes my top half of my body raise only slightly. My moans are mostly internalised, but the pleasure is all real. I pick up the pace of my fingers as juices begin to flood down my own hand. I should stop, but it feels incredible. Imagine what it would feel like from him? His hands, which remain latched around my thighs, would keep my core close to his tongue lapsing around my clit. I wouldn’t be able to help my right hand pushing him as deep into my vagina as possible, probably catching him a few times with my nails. I begin to focus more on my clit, as I imagine he would too, pulling my fingers out. The circular motion becomes quite vigorous. “Shit,” I whisper to myself as I feel my stomach start to knot. My thighs would attempt to close around his face, but he would pull them open and hold them with quite a bit of pressure. Both his forehead and his arms would bulge with a vein. I roll my eyes back into my head. The knot tightens more and more until I feel the need to release. My scream would be as simple as ‘Monty I’m cumming!’. Right now, I cover my mouth with the inner elbow of my left arm. My eyes squeeze tighter shut. I wanna scream out as I ride out my high. I know for a fact that Monty would lick up all my juices. He’d make a slightly dick comment about how he’s ‘just cleaning up’, but I’d feel him him against me, vibrating an incredible sensation up through my entire body. My arm collapses onto my bed, having that feeling of almost cramping. The racing of my heart follows my heavy breaths.

I’m sure the guilt will take over in the morning.

(Hello is this blog dead because I haven't seen you post since February)

nope, this blog aint dead. i have it open on a browser tab as long as im online to check on any new asks and messages. im going to leave a short explanation here for those who dont want to waste their time.

weve been busy with other interests and ive gotten something like a writers block. matchup block? since im the primary writer here, theres pretty much no activity as long as im not writing. thats it. no reason, nothing to do with personal problems. just a block. 

keep reading for the real reason. you might not like it, but here it is.

im going to use these john sprites to convey my emotion so it might clear up any doubts on how im feeling. lets start with the process of how i write a match.

this is what a draft looks like. i write out how i would rant about this pairing, errors and all, then i leave it for the next day to come back to this and clean this draft into a polished, three-pointer paragraph. the thing is, im the only one doing this, so its obviously going to take long. i dont mind, i love to type and see something spawn from my effort. 

the problem? these rants are people-specific. right. whatever im rambling about in the draft, its about the ask and the ask only. it wouldnt fit if you crammed it into another ask, it wouldnt make a lick-a-sense if it was used to answer someone else. but, when i start to polish it up with clear and coherent sentences, suddenly it becomes… static. it becomes plain and simple, uninteresting and linear. think of it like youre hearing about a book from someone you know and trust versus a review. the person you know describes why the book is great with a lot of passion and love, but theres a lot of errors in delivery and some awkward bits they havent flushed out yet. 

nevertheless, its enjoying and persuasive, because you can see how they love it so much to the point where it gets them like that. they dont plan out how theyll describe the book to you word by word, because theres no need to. seeing how it gets them excited gets you excited, so you buy their faith in the book. 

what about a review? its clean, its cut, its perfect in delivery. it has a flow, introducing you to the story and overall appeal, then maybe it digs down for a spoiler or two. it gels with you in a simple fashion, doesnt quite have that connection a passionate ramble has. because its professional. 

thats what ive been making this blog to be. professional. i answer the request with a polished, pretty and perfect answer. theres no personal connection. i could take a match, swap out a couple of words, maybe cut out a bit, and it would be clear for another match. it feels static to write those paragraphs, and it progressively gets worse each time i repeat the process. im chipping away at something so close, so personal and unique into something dull and professional because i want it to look clean.

but thats my end of the problem. i dont like how it comes out, so what? people enjoy it. they must be, seeing how theres fifty three fucking asks for matchups and 73 followers. 

i wont show all the asks i have in the inbox, but ill tell you what majority, if not all of them, sound like. 

“I’m bi/pan”, “I have brown hair/eyes”, “I’m chubby/short”, “I like art/gaming/reading/writing”, “I’m shy around people I don’t know, I’m crazy around people I know”, “I’m a nerd”, “I have ADHD/Anxiety”. 

of course, there are some exceptions. not everything i say is as is, but from 50+ asks, these are what about three quarters of them sound like. there are personal differences, like music tastes and obscure hobbies, but the general gist is there. 

im not going to say anything about the sexuality orientation, because im in a friend group where majority, if not all, are not cishets. yes, people like art and gaming. 

but thats it? these descriptors are such shallow answers. i can personalise a match for you, sure, but does it feel like its right? you like gaming. so what, do you like ALL games? from FPS to Dating sims to Horror games to Sports games to Adult games? do you like ALL art? Surrealism, sculpture, comics, abstract, even those where they splash paint and call it a day? really? i dont think im asking for a lot when it comes to being specific. some asks literally just go ‘im a bi female, 5′3, i like gaming and drawing, im sometimes shy but i can be sassy at times’. 

with everyone being so similar and vague, how am i supposed to give a match i feel is right? i might as well take everyones favourite boy david elizabeth strider and talk about how he likes your art and how he likes gaming and oh isnt it so great that you two like music. 

there are some unique ones, and its pretty obvious which ones they are because ive put in more love into them. and i havent been able to do that to many asks. 

and the physical descriptions. while im sure some of the characters do have types and preferences, i dont care for appearances. i dont care if youre fat or skinny, i dont care if youre tall or short, brown hair or blonde. you being morbidly obese or morbidly skinny may affect the match depending on how i feel the characters might respond to someone with those physical traits, but they shouldnt matter. 

i dont need how you look. i dont want how you look. its shallow and unimportant. it takes up space in the ask, because you could be using it to describe your personality or interests in detail. not that youre limit to one ask, you can send in an entire fucking fourteen page essay and id match you, as long as youre telling me something i can pair you with. 

telling me youre ‘chubby’ or ‘blonde’ doesnt help visualise shit. this shouldnt be new information to you or anyone else. writing shit like ‘he loves your curves!’ or ‘she likes how short you are because it makes you cute’ is bullshit and is simply self-serving nonsense. yes, its an additional bonus if your lover likes how youre short or fat, but that shouldnt be why theyre in love with you. a paragraph based on how much they like to hold you are appreciate your body is utter fucking nonsense. you appreciate your own body, and thats it. 

i dont feel inspired when i look at some of these asks. i dont feel like i should answer any of these because a) im not obligated to, this blog is just a side hobby and b) id be writing something i dont enjoy for people who might also not enjoy it. i dont deserve to sit at my laptop and write something i feel doesnt represent my work or ideas well, and the person who im matching doesnt deserve the half-assed boring paragraph of nonsense im pulling out of my ass just to clear the inbox. 

ive taken some time away from this blog and upon receiving this ask, i wanted to use the same old excuse every other blog uses: ‘we’ve been busy, so we went on an unannounced hiatus’. 

but thats not true. with the pandemic forcing lockdowns, theres essentially nothing else for us to do. if anything, this would mean that we have more time to write. 

so there it is. my truthful answer as to why nothings coming out of this blog.

part of this is my fault. i thought that maybe i could force myself to match all those vague asks that feel like theyre about the same person, just with a couple of changes. but i cant. i wont. im not going to keep writing shit i dont like, and im not going to keep giving half-assed matches, giving characters people are at the very least sure to be okay with. 

i want to write exciting, unique and adorable relationships. i thought that with the homestuck fandom being so vast and creative, maybe i would get the chance to meet and write for a couple of people who were just so different it would make pairings id never thought of. 

but nah, it looks like everything is the same. all the anon asks start to bleed together. the responses start becoming the same. im given descriptions that sound so tame, so generalised. like somehow, youre afraid of letting me know who you are as a person. or not, perhaps you just struggle with expressing yourself. thats why youre using anon to send in your ask, isnt it? 

i turned anon on because i wanted to respect privacy. i wanted people to be able to send in each and every detail about themselves while remaining behind a mask so they could get the best match without exposing every inch of themselves on a blog. maybe that was my mistake. 

ill leave the matches open, but im only going to do the ones that interest me. but if you decide that you dont give a fuck about the quality of the match, tell me or something. i have drafts that i can just post. maybe youd like that. 

-pretty obviously, mod olio.

ESO Telescope Sees Star Dance Around Supermassive Black Hole, Proves Einstein Right Observations made with ESO’s Very Large Telescope (VLT) have revealed for the first time that a star orbiting the supermassive black hole at the centre of the Milky Way moves just as predicted by Einstein’s general theory of relativity. Its orbit is shaped like a rosette and not like an ellipse as predicted by Newton's theory of gravity. This long-sought-after result was made possible by increasingly precise measurements over nearly 30 years, which have enabled scientists to unlock the mysteries of the behemoth lurking at the heart of our galaxy. “Einstein’s General Relativity predicts that bound orbits of one object around another are not closed, as in Newtonian Gravity, but precess forwards in the plane of motion. This famous effect — first seen in the orbit of the planet Mercury around the Sun — was the first evidence in favour of General Relativity. One hundred years later we have now detected the same effect in the motion of a star orbiting the compact radio source Sagittarius A* at the centre of the Milky Way. This observational breakthrough strengthens the evidence that Sagittarius A* must be a supermassive black hole of 4 million times the mass of the Sun,” says Reinhard Genzel, Director at the Max Planck Institute for Extraterrestrial Physics (MPE) in Garching, Germany and the architect of the 30-year-long programme that led to this result. Located 26 000 light-years from the Sun, Sagittarius A* and the dense cluster of stars around it provide a unique laboratory for testing physics in an otherwise unexplored and extreme regime of gravity. One of these stars, S2, sweeps in towards the supermassive black hole to a closest distance less than 20 billion kilometres (one hundred and twenty times the distance between the Sun and Earth), making it one of the closest stars ever found in orbit around the massive giant. At its closest approach to the black hole, S2 is hurtling through space at almost three percent of the speed of light, completing an orbit once every 16 years. “After following the star in its orbit for over two and a half decades, our exquisite measurements robustly detect S2’s Schwarzschild precession in its path around Sagittarius A*,” says Stefan Gillessen of the MPE, who led the analysis of the measurements published today in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics. Most stars and planets have a non-circular orbit and therefore move closer to and further away from the object they are rotating around. S2’s orbit precesses, meaning that the location of its closest point to the supermassive black hole changes with each turn, such that the next orbit is rotated with regard to the previous one, creating a rosette shape. General Relativity provides a precise prediction of how much its orbit changes and the latest measurements from this research exactly match the theory. This effect, known as Schwarzschild precession, had never before been measured for a star around a supermassive black hole. The study with ESO’s VLT also helps scientists learn more about the vicinity of the supermassive black hole at the centre of our galaxy. “Because the S2 measurements follow General Relativity so well, we can set stringent limits on how much invisible material, such as distributed dark matter or possible smaller black holes, is present around Sagittarius A*. This is of great interest for understanding the formation and evolution of supermassive black holes,” say Guy Perrin and Karine Perraut, the French lead scientists of the project. This result is the culmination of 27 years of observations of the S2 star using, for the best part of this time, a fleet of instruments at ESO’s VLT, located in the Atacama Desert in Chile. The number of data points marking the star’s position and velocity attests to the thoroughness and accuracy of the new research: the team made over 330 measurements in total, using the GRAVITY, SINFONI and NACO instruments. Because S2 takes years to orbit the supermassive black hole, it was crucial to follow the star for close to three decades, to unravel the intricacies of its orbital movement. The research was conducted by an international team led by Frank Eisenhauer of the MPE with collaborators from France, Portugal, Germany and ESO. The team make up the GRAVITY collaboration, named after the instrument they developed for the VLT Interferometer, which combines the light of all four 8-metre VLT telescopes into a super-telescope (with a resolution equivalent to that of a telescope 130 metres in diameter). The same team reported in 2018 another effect predicted by General Relativity: they saw the light received from S2 being stretched to longer wavelengths as the star passed close to Sagittarius A*. “Our previous result has shown that the light emitted from the star experiences General Relativity. Now we have shown that the star itself senses the effects of General Relativity,” says Paulo Garcia, a researcher at Portugal’s Centre for Astrophysics and Gravitation and one of the lead scientists of the GRAVITY project. With ESO’s upcoming Extremely Large Telescope, the team believes that they would be able to see much fainter stars orbiting even closer to the supermassive black hole. “If we are lucky, we might capture stars close enough that they actually feel the rotation, the spin, of the black hole,” says Andreas Eckart from Cologne University, another of the lead scientists of the project. This would mean astronomers would be able to measure the two quantities, spin and mass, that characterise Sagittarius A* and define space and time around it. “That would be again a completely different level of testing relativity," says Eckart. TOP IMAGE....Observations made with ESO’s Very Large Telescope (VLT) have revealed for the first time that a star orbiting the supermassive black hole at the centre of the Milky Way moves just as predicted by Einstein’s theory of general relativity. Its orbit is shaped like a rosette and not like an ellipse as predicted by Newton's theory of gravity. This effect, known as Schwarzschild precession, had never before been measured for a star around a supermassive black hole. This artist’s impression illustrates the precession of the star’s orbit, with the effect exaggerated for easier visualisation. Credit: ESO/L. Calçada CENTRE IMAGE....This simulation shows the orbits of stars very close to the supermassive black hole at the heart of the Milky Way. One of these stars, named S2, orbits every 16 years and is passing very close to the black hole in May 2018. This is a perfect laboratory to test gravitational physics and specifically Einstein's general theory of relativity. Research into S2's orbit was presented in a paper entitled “Detection of the Gravitational Redshift in the Orbit of the Star S2 near the Galactic Centre Massive Black Hole“, by the GRAVITY Collaboration, which appeared in the journal Astronomy & Astrophysics on 26 July 2018. Credit: ESO/L. Calçada/spaceengine.org LOWER IMAGE....This visible light wide-field view shows the rich star clouds in the constellation of Sagittarius (the Archer) in the direction of the centre of our Milky Way galaxy. The entire image is filled with vast numbers of stars — but far more remain hidden behind clouds of dust and are only revealed in infrared images. This view was created from photographs in red and blue light and forming part of the Digitized Sky Survey 2. The field of view is approximately 3.5 degrees x 3.6 degrees. Credit: ESO and Digitized Sky Survey 2. Acknowledgment: Davide De Martin and S. Guisard (www.eso.org/~sguisard) BOTTOM IMAGE....This chart shows the location of the field of view within which Sagittarius A* resides — the black hole is marked with a red circle within the constellation of Sagittarius (The Archer). This map shows most of the stars visible to the unaided eye under good conditions. Credit: ESO, IAU and Sky & Telescope

Bizzare Encounters with Imps

Throughout European legend and folklore can be found the pervasive presence of the tiny, evil little creatures commonly referred to as imps. The word comes from the Old English noun impa, meaning basically the young shoot of a tree or plant, and they are particularly prevalent in Germanic myths and legends. Although the creatures have countless descriptions and appear in numerous forms, there are some basic similarities. They are almost always portrayed as diminutive, small in stature, with ugly, rough features, and they are known as being mischievous, prankish, incorrigible, and uncontrollable. Many of the traditions depict them as rather evil and malicious, and indeed over the centuries they became more and more associated with the Devil and depicted as being demons and familiars of witches, warlocks, and even servants of Satan himself. While this must all sound like pure fantastic folklore very much in the vein of fairies, gnomes, and goblins, just as with those others there have been many purported sightings of what seem to be real imps, or at least something very much like these legends describes. These surprising reports involve some sort of gnome-like creatures with a decidedly demonic feel to them, and a malevolent air of menace surrounding them, and they come in from a variety of far-flung areas.

One such account comes to us from the site TrueGhostTales, from a witness named Joshua, who says that he had been just 12 years old at the time of his strange experience. It all started shortly after they had moved into a new home in Benicia, California, and although he had felt a bad energy emanating from the home from the very beginning, things would get truly bizarre when his mother one day heard a loud banging noise from the bathroom, even though no one else had been home at the time, and when she had gone to investigate she had found that everything from the counter and medicine cabinet had been thrown into a pile in the middle of the floor. This unexplained incident was followed shortly after by his terrified sister reporting that she had seen small glowing red eyes peering out from their darkened closet at night. The witness says that although he had not seen the red eyes himself, his sister had been so upset about it that he had believed her, and he would then in the coming days see for himself that indeed there was something very odd lurking in the home, which would become a regular visitor. He says of his first encounters with the thing:

My sister and I were ready to go to bed, my sister said she saw two red eyes inside the closet. I didn’t see them, but from how scared she was I believed her. We shared a room, and we had bunk-beds. My mom comforted her until she fell asleep. I slept short after. I awoke later that night from a small continuous noise coming from the foot of my bed (I had the top bunk). When I looked at my feet, I could see this dark, black figured shape jumping up and down at the foot of my bed. Every time that it jumped up, it would leer at me with these little red eyes. The eyes seemed to sink into his face until the red would just disappear. I couldn’t see much detail to his facial features, but I did realize that he was wearing a brim hat, like Charlie Chaplin. I started to scream, and within a couple of seconds my mom came in the room. But before she was able to turn the light on, I saw the little man (about three feet tall) hurry and run to the corner of the room and disappear into the darkness just before my mom turned on the light. This was not the first of many experiences we had.  A few days later, I woke up in the middle of the night. I still had that experience fresh on my mind, so I very carefully peaked my head over the railing of my top bunk, and looked around the room. When I saw the little man! This time he was just being very still and quiet, and he was just standing at the foot of my sisters bed, watching her (Our bunks were in the shape of an L, so I could see the lower half of my sisters bed). He then noticed me and looked at me. I yelled, and again, just one second before my mom got into the room, he would again run to the corner of the room, and disappear into the shadow. Every time he would run to the corner, he would stop for half a second facing the wall, and disappear.

Joshua claims that he saw this strange little demonic man over the next few nights as well, finally working up the courage to tell his mother what was happening. Rather than laugh it all off as the ramblings of a child’s imagination, she seemed to think that something was genuinely terrifying them, although she never let on that she had seen it herself. It would not be until years later that she would tell of her own experience with the entity, of which the witness says:

So what she did next, she did not tell us, until years later when we were grown up. If she told us at that time, it would have made us even more frightened because we would have known that it was not our imaginations. She told us that she stayed up one night with all the lights off. She was sitting in a chair in her bedroom, looking down the hallway to the entry way to our bedroom. What she saw next startled her. She said that after about a half hour after she turned the lights out she saw a little man who came into the hallway from the bathroom. He started to walk into our room when he must have sensed something. My mom said he stopped, and slowly turned around and looked at her with those sunken in little red eyes. She said he then turned back around and went into our room. She hurried up, and ran into our room and turned on light on. But he had vanished.  We lived in that house for about another year. We continued to have strange things happen. It didn’t let up until my mom and dad decided to move. Personally, I believe to this day, that the little man had to of been some sort of demon, not a human spirit. One thing that I never liked about it, was the fact that countless times, I would look around in the middle of the night, and every time he would be still, just watching us, either from the foot of my sisters bed, or he would be standing in the corners watching us. I never liked that, because you just never knew how long he could have been watching you as you slept.

A similar report comes from a witness on Your Ghost Stories, who had her own encounter in England with a very aggressive and genuinely evil little imp of some sort. She says that whatever it was had been quite bold, appearing in the middle of the day to harass her and her boyfriend, before becoming a constant presence that haunted and menaced them at all hours. The witness says of the ordeal :

I had a black shapeless entity peek at me from behind the TV one morning last May. It was black, and had tiny pinprick white eyes, extremely bright but the smile was ‘ear to ear’ and red… It rushed at me too, seemed to like chasing me at first, my boyfriend was in the house at the time, and this was during the day, while bright sunlight was streaming in through the window. I was terrified and actually climbed up my boyfriend (poor guy) to stop it touching my feet, which it seemed to find funny…  When it was moving across the floor it would either be a solid black shape, half human height, or a spinning ‘moth’? Which would continually spiral towards the floor. I have no idea what it was, we tried burning sage around the house, it seemed to back off quite a lot but after that a smaller black thing (no face) would sometimes peer at my boyfriend when he was asleep, and wait on the stairs.  Tried the sage, I also screamed at it to f*** off during the day while two people were there, (looked crazy ha-ha). It was actually very active during the morning/afternoon. After shouting at it for a very long time it did leave through the bathroom wall (temporarily). I actually got so desperate I smashed an ornament in its direction to try and frighten it. To be (mostly) rid of him, I had to keep standing up to it; it took a very long time, visualisations of white light enclosing the house, pushing it out… Was very hard mentally to move it at all, seemed very ‘heavy’. We think it moved to the next house, we are in a terrace and the attic has missing bricks in the wall to the adjoining house, I’m worried, but also extremely fascinated by it and wonder if it might return.

No word on if it ever did return or not, and it is a truly frightening and harrowing account, to say the least. From the same area of the world is a report of some sort of demonic imp at Crawfordsburn Country Park, in Ireland. The witness says she was out walking her dog, Missy, by the waterfall on an otherwise tranquil and calm evening. As they walked along the dog became very agitated for some unknown reason, and the witness explains:

Missy ran ahead and i walked quickly to catch up. I noticed she had stopped and had started growling so i started walking even quicker. As i got level with her i noticed what can only be explained as a gnome standing about 10 feet away from Missy. It was about 3 feet tall and at first i thought it was a child in fancy dress but then i noticed its teeth were pointed and a horrible brown colour and It had a bulbous nose and large, deep-set eyes. I got Missy on the lead and watched in amazement as the gnome began to laugh, this wasn’t a regular laugh but a deep cackle. I was terrified and frozen to the spot and watched as the gnome walked into some bushes by the waterfall and disappeared. I quickly ran off back to the car.

What was this thing? Was it some evil spirit or fairy? A demon? Something else? In some accounts it seems like these creatures are indeed very literal demons from Hell, true imps in every sense. One commenter on Exemplore explains of being haunted by tiny creatures that he believes are actual Biblical demons that can be fought off with the power of God. The witness says:

I see faces in figures in clouds, trees, bushes, on the grass and pretty much everywhere else I look. Until the Lord saved my life, these things had overtaken every aspect of my life, I had taken thousands of photos and videos of them, they would appear in my yard and trees as little gnomes, animal-like figures, full on demons, and all kinds of things that are freakier than anything I have ever seen in a horror movie. I’ve had dark clouds moving around my house and some insane visions that would take too long to type on here. My wife and son would see some of them, but not anywhere near the ballpark of what I see. No, I do not have schizophrenia or any other mental diseases. We tried every new age thing to rid our property of these beings, but it only got worse. One day I stayed home alone and prayed for hours trying to figure out why I was seeing these things. The Lord finally let me know in my soul that this was a product of all the sin I had allowed into my life and He was allowing me to see this in order to call me to Him. I was truly humbled and repented of my sins and I told Christ that I would rather die than to continue in a lifestyle that allowed this into my home and around my family. God saved me that day. I coughed out what I can only describe as evil energy out of my body 6-7 times. I was exhausted and felt truly forgiven and free for the first time in my life. The things is God still allows me to see things, they are just no longer in control of my life. I have learned many things from this, what feels like a curse, but I believe is a gift from God. I am now walking in the truth of God. No one could ever convince me that a battle of good vs. evil is not going on around us all the time. Most people just cannot see it.

Other unsettling reports seem to describe these things as a dark force that seems bent on luring children away to their dooms, and indeed in some folklore imps were known to do just this. One witness on Reddit weaves a rather unsettling tale of some sort of gnome that seems as if it was perhaps trying to trick his sister into wandering off with it. The witness says:

As a young child, my sister was visited by a spirit that appeared as a gnome-type creature (small, grey beard and pointed hat). He always appeared at dusk and tried to get her to follow him into the woods. My sister barely remembers the episodes, but I remember her telling me about them and even remember once keeping her from following him into the woods. My mom remembers once when we were swimming in a neighbor’s pool and she came to bring us home for dinner- after being home for about 5 minutes, my mom realized my sister was gone. Instinctively, she ran back to the swimming pool and found her in the pool, alone (she was 3 and could barely swim). We think this also has something to do with that entity, as she could not have walked that far in that amount of time by herself. Has anyone ever heard of an entity that tries to lure children away? At that time, we lived In an area of Western MA known for paranormal activity and there was a well known case of demonic possession nearby.

So, are these real reports of encounters with the demonic imps of folklore, or are they something else entirely? There is little to differentiate them from the numerous other accounts of sightings of gnomes, fairies, and other seemingly fairy tale creatures, but here we have something that seems especially evil and malicious in nature. What are these entities and what do they want? Are they real spirits, demons, interdimensional phenomena, or simply tall tales? No matter what the answer is, these are truly odd reports that mesh in with the long running myths and legends or demonic imps and gnomes, and serve as something to ponder at the very least.

God I feel like shit I'm nonbinary and want top surgery and i live in nz and the rule is if you want it free you Have to be on hormones I Dont Want for 2 years otherwise its 10-20 thousand dollars and I feel hopeless I literally cant see my life going on if I dont get that surgery but no one in my family would ever understand and have said things against it before and i dont know what to do

hi gosh im so sorry to hear that, i literally can't imagine how hard it must be. what a stupid thing, to make such a rule compulsory for all cases without exception. it's no surprise that you feel the way you do and while it may be unbelievably painful in this moment, it's entirely your right to process the sadness and anger that comes along with what you're experiencing. the only responsibility you have is to try to cope with these emotions in a healthy way, even if some days that just looks like crying in your bed or finding the energy to brush your teeth. in the present moment you don't have to be able to visualise your future because it is an ever changing and nebulous concept - and it is most likely not going to unfold the way you're anticipating it to. the fact that you can't see the possibility of happiness doesn't mean it's not there. i think a big part of being in a bad place is sort of suffocating under the illusion that everything is permanent and you'll never learn to manage etc but so much of that fear is rooted in an unreliable source: the intensity of your current emotional landscape. of course it's completely understandable as to why you feel this way - if top surgery is important to you, and you are being denied it, then of course you're going to be hurt and uncomfortable. it isn't fair at all. but i really think there are ways to come to terms with factors that are beyond your control in the present moment. and you shouldn't have to, i want to stress that. but shifting your attention to what is in your hands is often a freeing step to take. no matter how hopeless it seems.

are you able to express yourself as a non-binary person through other avenues? are you able to dress and act the way you want to? if yes, continue to explore those options unabashedly and without shame. if not, then the extent of your self repression will surely improve as you grow up and gain autonomy over your own existence. where you're at right now isn't where you'll always be, and you don't have to believe me, but it's true. also, are you able to seek out other lgbt people in your town/city, through support groups or charities or events? if so, i would recommend considering it. finding others who are struggling with the societal limitations of their identities can be a real relief. you are genuinely not alone and you don't have to go through this by yourself, even if your family are dickheads. obviously you deserve so much more than their dismissal but their actions are purely a reflection of them, you know? you don't have to beg them to understand. another suggestion would be to seek professional support for your mental health if that's a possibility, to help you deal with the difficulties of your situation. ask your doctor for a referral, or look into forms of support in your community. it doesn't have to be a big deal. having someone to talk to, and a support system outside of your personal bubble is pretty paramount. there are a myriad of coping mechanisms for both dysphoria and shitty familial bonds and while they don't solve it all, they certainly help if you engage with them consistently. i get that it all feels like too much effort, like empty words compared to the weight of what you're going through. and it's definitely daunting. if it seems like too much, even just calling an lgbt hotline or seeking out info and companionship online is a good place to start. but point is i genuinely believe in your ability to confront the issues you have a direct say in, so that when you're struggling with not having access to top surgery, you are more emotionally prepared to process it. it's entirely possible that you will be able to begin saving up for it in the future, and you never know how it's going to turn out, really. however until then you are entirely entitled to feel how you need to feel. but don't let it stop you from taking care of yourself, and living the way you want in other regards. the more you age and the more assured you become in your sense of self, the easier it'll seem. take it one day at a time, n try to look at what you can to to help yourself today. anyway this got long and ultimately i wish i could do something to proactively change things for you because i know that's the only thing that would actually count, but i just hope you know that you deserve the world and there is so much waiting for you beyond your current circumstances. if you need a friend or if you want to talk, i'll be here. sending love 💌

Psychic Powers:

The human mind is capable of incredible feats and in some cases these fears transcend the normality and hint at the evolutionary potential of humanity to grow into psychic beings, psychic powers are commonly experienced though often shrugged off rather than fine tuned as it can be hard to relate how the power was awoken or worked and harder still to prove that any psychic power had taken place despite that it is quite common for people to sense each others moods, get a sense of anothers thoughts or correctly predict an outcome or event much of this is all too often attributed to lucky guesses or coincidence and so this post will serve to explore the types of reported psychic powers, their cause and the means of developing them.

Apportation:

Apportation (also known as teleportation) is the ability to send physical objects from one point in space time to another while I find this ability to be largely improbable I can only suggest that this is achieved by the generation and manipulation of vortex wormholes to bend time-space around an object to move it from one point in space time to another with the apperance that it suddenly disappeared and reappeared, this is possible in nature and observed in space and in quantum mechanics and I suppose it is possible to generate enough energy to create and control such a rift in space-time however I personally feel this ability is currently beyond the capabilities of human beings and would require a significant evolution in our psychic capabilities to utilise.

Astral Projection:

As previously covered Astral Projection is the art form of bringing ones conscious energy into the astral realm via a variety of techniques this can also be applied to the effect of out of body experiences which enable the practisioner to walk around the physical world as an ethereal invisible force, this is often triggered accidentally via dreaming, near death experiences and also can be an effect of hallucinations. Most out of body experiences begin with the sudden realisation that the experiencer is floating above their own unconscious body, an out of body experience is triggered in a similar way to astral projection meditation however instead the practisioner visualises their astral self rising or stepping out of their physical body until the sensation is achieved, another reportedly successful method involves visualising your own heart beat until an out of body experience occurs.

Auric Sight:

As previously discussed this is the ability to view and discern information from the auric light generated by objects, people and other living creatures which can be achieved by consciously focusing on trying to see the aura until it is easily seen.

Automatic Writting/Drawing:

This is a process of the subconscious mind often linked to trance states and spiritual posession of an individual who then proceeds to write or draw something without consciously meaning to of their own volition. The process can be achieved via the invocation of spirits, through drug induced states or via hypnosis where a person in either state can be given paper and a pen and observed to create strange writting or images.

Biokinesis:

Biokinesis is a process of making the Morphogenetic field conscious in order to enact changes to the bodies internal and external chemical balances, morphology and genetic mutations this is because the body regulates these processes through the mind and they can therefore be made conscious through actively focusing on them and attempting to manipulate them which in turn can be dangerous but can also lead to self healing and evolutionary changes in morphology, it is interesting to note that hallucinogenic substances can be of use in making this process conscious as for example Sir Francis Crick discovered that DNA is double helix shaped after an LSD hallucination caused his mind to unlock a visual representation of the genetic encoding suggesting that he had begun to access the ability to make his brain regulate his DNA but had not fully understood the potential in terms of psychic power.

Chronokinesis:

Chronokinesis is the effect of experiencing a manipulation or distortion of the natural flow of time it can also be related to the experience of lost time wherein a person is unable to recount their own experiences between one moment and the next across a substantial change in the time of day. We often experience the slowing of our personal perception of time when we are very bored, waiting, anxious, stressed or during experiences of adrenaline or more rarely via synchronistic effects experienced between soul mates likewise we often experience a speeding up of our own perception of time when we are enjoying ourselves. Theoretically the effects of chronokinesis could be enhanced to the point of controling the flow of time itself or the perception of time that others experience, the only way to develop this sense is by improving our awareness of time and through focus on the specific triggers that cause distortion in the percieved ordinary flow of time in order to grasp a greater control over these powers it is often of some benefit in this endeavour to be able to disassociate at will.

Clairaudience:

Clairaudience is the ability to acquire information psychically via audio sensations such as being able to hear sounds or voices which give a sensation or clear message to the experiencer these types of powers are often overwhelning and intrusive and considered to be undesirable effects commonly ascribed to mental illnesses such as schizophrenia. Clairaudience is a common effect of psychoactive substances and can be harnessed by attempting communication with any audiotory hallucinations that are experienced however we must make the distinction that this only a useful psychic power if it generates accurate results and does not cause the experiencer too much stress as we do not wish to strengthen the delusions of the mentally ill who may be hearing harmful voices or maddening nonsense.

Claircognizance:

Claircognizance is the psychic ability to gain information from just knowing, from sensing the truth of a matter through intuition often this is an effect of DMT release in the pineal gland which gives this sensation, claircognizance can therefore be developed by actively working to increase the potency of the pineal gland/third eye by attempting to utilise and strengthen our own intuition until this sensation is more common to us however we must be aware that we are capable of deluding ourselves into believing we are always right, we must put into practice the knowledge we achieve through claircognizance to test its validity.

Clairgustance:

Clairgustance is the ability to taste without physical contact this is often related to the sense of smell as tastes can pass through the nasal passage into the mouth however in instances where smell is not the cause of the sensation this is often due to the minds ability to simulate specific tastes based on previous experiences and can be easily developed by focusing on specific foods and objects with the conscious intention of percieving their taste this power can also however relate to the sudden sensation of a taste when entering a room, meeting a person or via other triggered stimulation and may be related to synesthesia.

Clairolfactance:

Clairolfactance is the ability to pick up information from smells, it is an ability greately improved in many animals such as dogs and like Clairgustance may be related to synesthesia. Clairolfactance can be improved by attempting to recognise how different smells give off certain information and is linked to our ability to improve our memory via our sense of smell however true Clairolfactance is a gift of being able to retrieve specific information about a person, object or event from the sense of smell in a way that transcends our usual sensory input which is to say that for example it is the difference between knowing someone hasnt bathed recently and knowing someone hasnt bathed for specifically five days or in more extreme terms for example that a persons mother collected pinecones from the smell of lavender in their hair as opposed to knowing a person uses lavnder scented shampoo due to the smell of lavender in their hair.

Clairsentience:

Clairsentience is an advanced for of empathic sensation it is the ability to sense the emotional or mental state of a person and to easily put ourselves into another persons shoes without distorting the facts and to thus gain hidden insights into them personally, we can improve Clairsentience by consciously trying to be more aware of the feelings of others and what sense or vibe individuals give off, certain psychoactive substances can greately improve empathy such as hallucinogenics and MDMA, certain star signs of the water element (most notably Pisces) are naturally gifted with the uncanny ability to accurately utilise their empathy to near psychic levels.

Clairvoyance:

Clairvoyance is the psychic ability to percieve information from an extra sensory perception that is to say a Clairvoyant person could enter a room and immediately know hidden facts about the room, its contents, events that happened there and or get a sense of people and animals and their interactions within the room. Clairvoyance is a rare psychic gift related to powerful intuition and likely relates to seeing through the pineal gland/third eye, Clairvoyants are sometimes enlisted by police to help in investigations where all other options have been exhausted sometimes with positive outcomes. Clairvoyance can be developed by focusing intuition and paying more attention to our intuition until it becomes powerful enough to sense hidden factors automatically.

Dowsing:

Dowsing is the ability to sense water sometimes via the use of dowsing rods, dowsing is possible since there is an electromagnetic charge to water which can be percieved physically by the effect of static electricity in attracting or repelling water thus our own bodily biomagnetic energy field/morphic field can be utilised to sense, attract and/or repel water. To enhance our ability to dowse we can begin by trying to get a sense of how our bodily sensations change subtly in the presence of water and can improve this by attempting to dowse with dowsing rods, by experimenting without our own ability to generate static electricity to direct the flow of water and by attempting to determine which of a set of identical vessels contains water while blindfolded meerly by touching the lid.

Electrokinesis:

Electrokinesis is the ability to control and direct the flow of electrical energy with psychic power, people who have this ability inately often attract electricity such as people who are struck by lightning an abnormal amount of times. The ability to control the magnetic attraction and repulsion of our own bioelectromagnetic field enables us to experience telepathic magnetism and to control energy by attracting and repeling it until it takes the route desired. The ability to utilise our bodily bioelectromagnetic field enables us to give off static or electrical shocks and can be used to cause spontanious fire or harm and even death if weaponised. It is likely that this ability is tied to conscious attempts to control the morphic field via brain power and irregular cardial rhythms which could be used to generate stronger more focused bioelectromagnetic discharges, for a maltitude of obvious reasons involving the posibility or harm to oneself or others the greatest of respect and care must be taken when attempting to generate Electrokinesis.

Intuition:

Intuition is the psychic power of being able to interpret the truth of an event, matter, situation or other such stimulation via a sensation that tells us the outcome, intuition can often be misleading or rather misinterpreted and it is only through focusing on our own intuitive abilities and trying to consciously develop them that they are honed into being useful psychic skills, intuition can often be improved by playing psychic guessing games such as trying to correctly determine which playing card another person is holding via the sensation that the card gives us, although we can also actively work on our intuition by being constantly mindful of it and becoming more skilled in discerning its meaning through the emotional and mental senses it gives us in our daily lives. Often intuition is percieved as a sense, gut feeling or as a clear calm voice in our mind which offers guidance.

Levitation:

Levitation is the psychic ability to cause oneself or other objects to defy gravity and float in mid-air although this might at first seem absurd it becomes plausible when it is realised that a big part of the gravity locking us to the physical ground below is electromagnetic thus if we are able to change the polarity of our own bioelectromagnetic field or the electromagnetic field of objects we may be able to generate the effect of magnetic repulsion causing the effected energy field to move away from the physical ground below and float in mid-air to do so would likely be effected by a conscious understanding of our own morphic field and the rhythms of our cardial energy centre and would be easiest to achieve in places where the Earths gravity is at its weakest such as along the equator.

Memory Altering:

Memory Altering is the ability to utilise hypnotic suggestion or astral projection to attack, change, distort or wipe the memory of another living being this could also be enacted by a controlled focus of the morphic fields bioelectromagnetism to attacking specific areas of the brain, naturally this ability is very dangerous and could result in brain damage or death, these types of mental domination can also be utilised towards the goal of mind control which can seek to utilise ones own psychic will or energetic field to direct and control the thoughts or actions of another living being.

Mind Reading:

Mind Reading is the ability to sense the thoughts of another person, mind reading can be an inate ability and can be related to audio or visual hallucinations. Mind reading can be improved by Auric Sight focused around the head and by improving both empathic and intuitive psychic abilities, mind reading is also easier between people who know each other well and have a close psychic bond.

Precognition:

Precognition is the ability to percieve future events usually through visions of the event taking place before it happens, precognition is a powerful form of intuition that likely relies on visual hallucinations produced by DMT release from the pineal gland/third eye therefore we can improve our precognitive abilities by working on our intuition and abilities relating to the pineal gland such as astral projection and dream working. Since the pineal gland takes in light and is stimulated by darkness we can also help to produce visions by improving the DMT production of our pineal gland via sun gazing and meditation or otherwise artificially through DMT containing hallucinogenic substances, the most powerful of which in relation to visions is Ayahuasca. Precognition may also be improved by attempting to focus astral travel attempts into the future by astral projecting with a focus on future events in mind.

Psionic Healing:

Psionic Healing is the ability to utilise our own Morphogenetic and Morphic fields and to control the direction of light energy encoded information around the nervous system by our own conscious thought to result in miraculous regeneration of health and vitality it can also refer to utilising these techniques towards helping others to heal their wounds by directing our own positive energies around their body, I often utilise the visualisation of golden light to direct my body to heal specific areas that I visualise the light eminating from, positivity in thought and intention seems to play a key role in this process and likely relates to the way that liquids in the body respond to light based information.

Psionic Surgery:

Psionic Surgery is the supposed ability of a psychic individual to be able to create wounds on living tissue which can be used for harm but can also be used to perform medical surgical procedures without tools, while I suppose it might be possible to utilise energy to divide living tissue I am somewhat skeptical about the applications of this for accurate surgical or medicinal benefit however I can see how this process may relate to the utilisation of energy in the hands towards a healing effect such as is practiced by masters of Reiki.

Psychic Possession:

Psychic Possession is a form of psionic mind control which utilises astral projection to parasitically fix ones own will onto another living being by attempting to hijack their physical body by entering it through astral projection and dominating their will, this is likely to be much more effective when utilised against unconscious persons.

Psychometry:

Psychometry is the ability to gain clear information about a person or object through the sensation of touch, which is to say a person capable of psychometry can touch an item and gain distinct true imprints of how that item was used, its history or about persons connected to that item they may also get similar sensations from touching living beings, psychometry is a form of intuition triggered by touch and can be improved by focusing our intuition around the sensation of touch until it becomes a clear and accurately working power.

Pyrokinesis:

Pyrokinesis is the ability to control or cause fire with the mind, pyrokinesis likely relates to electrokinesis which can utilise the bodies own bioelectromagnetism to cause or control/attract and repel fire. Fire can be caused by electrical discharge or via the heating of particles in the air via our morphic field, since fire contains electromagnetic particles it is not unreasonable to suggest that it could be controlled via an extra-sensory means. It is also possible that cases of sudden human combustion and immolation are related to pyrokinetic abilities that were out of control or suddenly triggered accidentally.

Remote Viewing:

Remote Viewing is a technique that involves astral projection or out of body experiences to travel to and view an area, situation or person remotely. Remote Viewing is used to eavesdrop psychically on conversations and events and was famously utilised by the CIA to some effect in their Stargate projects. Remote Viewing can be improved and practiced by utilising astral projection and out of body experiences to try and view the contents of sealed containers since once the container is opened the remote viewer will know if they have made a successful attempt.

Retrocognition:

Retrocognition is the ability to percieve past events with accurate clarity it may be related to the visual powers of the DMT producing pineal gland/third eye or otherwise may be related to spiritual memory recovered from past life experiences, it is likely that attempting astral travel into the past by astral projection with past events in mind is the most effective method of attempting to improve retrocognition.

Telekinesis:

Telekinesis is the ability to move physical objects by mental will. Telekinesis is most often reported to occur in young women entering puberty and is often out of control and associated with poltergeist activity or demonic possession. Telekinesis is likely achieved by extending the bioelectromagnetic morphic field to interact with the electromagnetic field of objects and utilising an exchange of energy to initiate momentum and thus telekinesis is actually a focused use of electrokinesis towards the movement of physical objects from a distance.

Telepathy:

Telepathy is the ability to communicate in thoughts with another person and is related to mind reading it can therefore be improved by auric sight utilised around the head area and by the direction of thought and intentions towards the intended recipient, telepathy is stronger and more easily achieved between individuals who know eachother well and where strong psychic physical, emotional, mental and spiritual bonds have been formed between individuals and is very common among biological twins to varying extents. Telepathy can also be used to project images into the minds of others and could be used to generate hallucinatory illusions. In the modern age BCI (brain-computer interfaces) have already made artificial telepathy possible through technology.

Telepresence:

Telepresence is the ability to be paradoxically in two places at one time. Excluding possibilities involving time travel and metaphysical situations where the same energy inhabits different bodies, telepresence might be achievable via out of body experiences if the practisioner is able to maintain enough focus to remain in control of their own physical body and simultaneously generate enough will to physically or visually manifest their astral body in another physical location splitting their mentality across both forms.

Thoughtography:

Thoughtography is the ability to project images from the minds eye/pineal gland onto photographic paper or film. Since photographic paper and film can be imprinted with images from light projection this power is almost certainly utilised by the outward expulsion of light focused through the visual pineal gland into a specific image or pattern imprinted onto the film or paper and can likely be improved by astral projection techniques and techniques which improve our control over the third eye/pineal gland.