#if only I was motivated enough to add color but nope I already worked on this for a full week cri-

[deitiesofduat]

BASTET: “As it turns out, the project has been due for this type of update for some time -- which the artist @tenicola​ (aka @teninini, colacanvas, and "Teni") finally got around to, after having enough headspace to approach it. 

“And just to avoid worrying anyone seeing this -- nope, Teni is not dropping DEITIES project anytime soon. She's not going anywhere, and neither am I! Or the rest of my pantheon! 

“But Teni mentioned she was worried about projecting that outcome, due to how inactive she's been online, and how quiet she's been about progress. She's hoping this update can add some clarity on what's actually going on, and what to expect going forward.”

“The rest of this update is below the cut, as text mixed with panels. It's on the long-ish side, and while it's best to skim through everything for context, you can also skip to the section "SHIFT IN [PUBLIC] SCOPE" if you just want to get to the point.

“Without further ago, let's start with some history that Teni wanted to share for full context -- again, under the cut!”

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

[ HISTORY OF DEITIES PROJECT ]

BASTET: “DEITIES Project -- and the main story for said project (Deities of Duat: The Chaos Seal), which is intended as a long form webcomic -- has been in development, privately and offline, since late 2014. Teni meant to keep it private for as long as possible, until she felt “ready” to share it.

“However, she was motivated to take the plunge and reveal the project's existence with these color tests and with this comic, as part of her coursework for her visual storytelling class. You know the one…”

“The surge of encouragement from both her classmates and her followers motivated Teni to create this blog -- the one you're visiting right now! It was Teni's full intention to use this blog to share progress on the main story, as a full-length webcomic, while building and engaging her audience.”

“However, along the way were a few... unforeseen obstacles that reared their head. Some obstacles were mitigated by making steady updates to the story and blog, but some were much more challenging, and she thinks it only fair to disclose some of them for context...”

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

[ OBSTACLES OF LIFE ]

BASTET: “The first obstacle was the sudden onset of chronic lower back pain -- just before the launch of the DEITIES blog in 2016. She still has it to this day, and says this ache makes it unbearable to sit or stand in the same position for too long. Among several inconveniences this causes, it also means she can only draw in short bursts before her stamina taps out, or before needing pain relief -- like heat, ice, and pressure.”

“As you might imagine, it's not the most fun condition to have when you enjoy drawing! And it's taken a while for Teni to cope with this daily frustration. She's still planning to find answers and a treatment to help reduce it, but has also accepted that she's been dealt this hand -- not unlike other creatives that deal with some form of chronic pain.”

“The back pain was one obstacle, but having to deal with different interpersonal struggles and friction was another. Some spiked her usual feelings of anxiety, and in one relationship's case, made her question whether or not the project was worth continuing. (On that note -- Teni does not want to call out anyone or guilt them, she just wanted to bring it up as a factor for the larger point she's making — just bear with us!)

“The third big obstacle a few years back, was having a day job that had an... ‘unfriendly’ work environment, and was paying a lot less income than she fairly deserved. And near the beginning of 2018, she was laid off from said job, putting a halt to any income she was earning only a week after signing the lease to her first apartment!”

“Teni didn't go into detail about those months of job hunting and taking tech classes, though she explains bits of it in previous updates. But the lack of financial stability at the time hung over her head constantly. The way she put it was: ‘It was hard to motivate myself to indulge in something I loved, but that didn't provide income, while I was in the middle of an extended job hunt.’"

“She didn't expect all these obstacles in succession when she launched the project. And she admits that she felt a combination of frustration, impatience, and disappointment for not updating the project at the same pace she started.”

“This was not because of any pressure from followers -- she told me you all have been incredibly understanding and patient! It was because of the fact that the project had been publicly promoted for so long, and she set her own expectations and goals so high -- without factoring the likelihood of life getting in the way. There was also the lingering fear of disappointing a lot of people, if one day she had no choice but to stop the project for her own livelihood and health.”

“Ah, why am I adding to this creative angst -- Teni didn't want this to be a sob story! I'll move on haha.”

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

[ IN A BETTER PLACE ]

BASTET: “Thankfully, in spite of all those obstacles, things are turning around for Teni in this new decade. A year ago she found a job with a feasible income to support herself, and an overall healthy work environment within her team. She's also fostered healthier relationships with her family and friends, and even made closer connections with the best friends she's had for ages!”

“And while her back pain is… still there, it's a manageable part of life that she's still determined to find answers for and improve.

“Not to mention that in the past year, she's been able to work on other projects, more quietly, and indulge in drawing other characters and fanart for fun. She's consumed more of her favorite media in the interim as well to support others, and to sate her own curiosity and interests.”

“Moving on to how this relates to this update, now that we have some backdrop for what's been happening...”

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

[ AREAS OF INTEREST ]

BASTET: “Again, Teni is not dropping DEITIES Project -- she admits the fear of having to make that call had crossed her mind, but it's not something she thinks she'll need to reconsider right now. Her bigger concern has been how to approach this project publicly, moving forward. And after giving it some thought, she's made some observations that may shed light on this answer.

“Teni wanted me to emphasize the idea of her doing a ‘reset’ for the public presentation and development of DEITIES Project -- not to change or hide the development thus far, but to reframe the project's scope -- what it's focus and goals are, more or less.

“...Oh-- looks like she made some visuals to help with this -- you two mind lending me a hand?”

“You all might have figured it out by now, but Teni absolutely loves drawing character art and designs. She also likes panel-style comics, as well as the dialogue, expressions, and SFX that comes with it. She can work on them offline without prompting, but she also loves sharing what she comes up with!

“What she's less fond of sharing is some of the other... *ahem* unmentionables and time-consuming work that comes with traditional comics. Things that take hours to set up and hours to practice, let alone execute for the final product -- an unfortunate hurdle when you're a one-person production team, and you can only draw in small bursts at a time.”

“She initially tried to put off the more indulgent art that she liked, in order to focus the less-favored obligations... but she realized that this just made her feel demotivated to work on anything, and less got completed as a result.”

“Overall, Teni's coming to terms with both her own limitations and her personal drive, and wants to shift her priorities accordingly for the project -- even if it goes against the grain of what's considered ‘good’  or well-meaning advice for a personal project.”

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

[ SHIFT IN [PUBLIC] SCOPE ]

BASTET: “Instead of treating the DEITIES main story/comic as the ‘end game’ goal of this project -- and pouring all her available energy in preparing for it and hyping it up -- Teni wants to shift the main story as a future, and more private ambition, until she's in a better place to execute it and share it publicly.

“No, she does not have any estimate or TBD date for when this will be, or when she'll make public updates on it’s progress or launch. It may even remain private indefinitely. And for now, she's okay with this.

“Because (1) The main story "The Chaos Seal" is not the only story that's worth telling from this project. Smaller side- and backstories, and even small character interactions, have their merit as well -- something Teni learned from drawing askbox responses, completing memes with the cast, and character exploration with friends. And with the main story not sucking up all the oxygen, she thinks it'll leave room to tackle the others more easily -- whether they're planned ahead of time or are spur-of-the-moment, and as comics or different formats.

“(2) Removing the DEITIES main story from its public pedestal will also allow her to work on other non-DEITIES things as they crop up -- and with less irrational guilt to indulge in things that aren't ‘priority’ for completing the comic. Meaning more art of her original characters, fanart, giftart, collabs, memes and bandwagons, and other smaller projects. Heck, she might even give herself permission to relax.

“And (3), perhaps most importantly -- Teni realized that DEITIES Project shouldn’t have to start and end with the so-called main story, and placing the story aside wouldn’t mean the project suddenly becomes a waste of time -- as she originally worried about projecting when her life took a twist.

“DEITIES Project just… is. It already exists, and the characters and world already exist -- with or without a completed webcomic to validate that existence.”

“But anyway, I side-tracked. The point is, Teni's planning to shift DEITIES project to just that -- a project, with room to continually grow, explore, and experiment with, and to engage with others as she feels comfortable, without the pressure of having a giant epic to tell.

“So while the main story and comic is going to shift to something more gradual and private -- the way it was originally meant to be -- this shift in scope will help adjust the project’s longevity, and also set the stage for some changes to be made around the blog, and for the public presentation for DEITIES.” 

“However, that content will be less scheduled and remain sporadic -- things will ‘happen when they happen,’ but what Teni has in mind will hopefully be enjoyable for those following the project.”

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

[ WHAT'S NEXT-- ]

BASTET: “Here’s the thing: we actually had more to share, but Teni made the call to save it all for another day -- to avoid making this update longer than needed, and to also avoid announcing any plans prematurely. No need to risk building pressure all over again or burning out, right?

“She asks for everyone’s patience and to give her another few weeks to re-calibrate things, address pressing questions, and work on some overdue housekeeping on the blog -- and to just draw whatever pops to her mind, cuz hey, why not? After that, she'll wait until any project items are already in the works and on the road to completion, before she announces that they're coming -- an ‘under-promise but over-deliver’ approach.

“But one thing you can look forward to are more featured deities from the main cast and the supporting cast -- including those colors tests she's been working on since last year, and then some! There's no shortage of inspiration or fodder, so to speak.”

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

[ IN CONCLUSION ]

BASTET: “So to recap! DEITIES Project will be shifting its scope and priorities, so that the main story and comic is developed more privately, and more characters and lore will be explored online at a more manageable pace. On the surface, that may not look like much is changing, but hopefully this update can make expectations more clear.

“Teni knows that there may be some in the audience who may feel down about this decision, or who were looking forward to the webcomic to be completed above all else. She says that's totally fair, and encourages anyone looking for stories to check out her recommendations. But she also hopes you'll understand, and be willing to stick around for other content in the meantime.”

"That brings Teni -- and me -- to one final point. Which is to sincerely thank you for all of your support, encouragement, and patience these past few years. In addition to things that are still in the works, there's a lot of content on this blog that had been inspired by everyone's engagement, which we can't thank you enough for!

“Teni and I, and everyone else from the pantheon, are excited about what’s next for Deities of Duat and DEITIES Project. And we’re looking forward to sharing more content, more freely, in the upcoming year for you all to enjoy.”

#// If there was only one long-winded update I would encourage you all to read it's definitely this one #// Partially for the actual update and also cuz those panels took a while lmAO;;; but I did it for the sake of this announcement! #// I think Bastet explains it well enough for now; that the project is shifting it's scope online #// But if anyone has questions then feel free to leave it as a comment; I'll try to answer what i can directly and/or in the next update #// Thanks again for all your support and patience everyone; I'm genuinely thinking this shift in scope will be good for the project overall. #// Now excuse me while I draw something other than these mascots for a bit; it was nice to draw them for the first time in a while though #DEITIES Project #Deities of Duat #DEITIES updates #Bastet #Set Spawn #Ba #animals #characters #DEITIES text #artwork #comics #mini comics #egyptian mythology

[blandacheadcanons]

Let’s talk about AC: Odyssey

Overall, the game was a 7/10. I liked it, primarily because it’s shiny new content and because i get to play as a woman for the whole game (and Kassandra hnngggnng) but there were some issues which, for me, undercut the emotion of the whole thing, especially the ending.

spoilers and bitching below, proceed at your own risk

An ADHD dream and nightmare

in general, the way i played Black Flag, Origins, and Odyssey was tantamount to “Okay, gotta go to - squirrel!”

Now, that problem (not really much of a problem but y’know) starts with me. I have ADHD, so I’m already prone to being unfocused in my game play. But it doesn’t help that the map is littered with side missions, collectibles, and shiny things.

That, on it’s own, is not much of an issue. So it’s a bloated game; that just means there’s more to love. and I do love this game. however, the overwhelming amount of side missions and the fact that you’re practically required to play them in order to level up enough, means that the game loses its focus.

in Black Flag, this was somewhat remedied by the fact you’re never really under-leveled, so much as under-prepared. In Origins, it was offset by the intensely emotional story and clear motivations. In Odyssey, neither of those things were present.

Breaking the game

Throughout its life as a series, Assassin’s Creed has done something few other games have done: justified the fact that it’s a video game. We, the player, play as Desmond/Layla/whomever, who is playing through the memories of the historical character. The Animus can essentially take a puzzle and build the edges and group the pieces by color, but it still needs a human to put the pieces in place. the puzzle - the memory - itself cannot be changed.

Now, in Odyssey, there is no more justification. Yes, I’m talking about the choice mechanic.

This aspect of the game just... breaks everything we know about the series. the way the animus works. the way we play the game. the lore went from decently put together to flat out incoherent.

I love Kassandra. and I love that she’s the canon character. but if female leads for some reason come at the cost of consistent story-telling, i’ll take the consistent lore.

Way too big

traveling takes for-fucking-ever. Look, Ubisoft, I know people loved the naval portions of your games. but that’s not an excuse to make everything fucking HUGE and spread out over a dozen islands. If you must have such a huge game, give us fast travel to an island right away. restrict it however else you like, but for FUCKS SAKE.

Clash of the Titans (and the original premise for this series)

from AC1 to AC: Black Flag, each game has been defined by its historical setting. It was the Crusade Game, the Renaissance Game, the Victorian Game...

Origins began to lay the framework for a more mythology-based portion of the series.

Well, Origins walked so that Odyssey could fly by it on a motorcycle. Throughout the game, i wasn’t about the historical figures i would meet. I was wondering where and how the mythology would be making an appearance.

On its own, this is not a bad thing. It also makes sense, given that Ubisoft seems to be shifting to the Isu for plot in the wake of Juno’s death.

It is, however, still rather jarring. It also doesn’t look like we’ll be getting more of the historical thing because AC: Ragnorak is looking like the next game.

I love mythology as much as the next person, but...I don’t even know what to say.

The Ending

the aforementioned lack of focus and emotional intensity led to a...lackluster ending. I went for the best ending where Kassandra saves Alexios and the family is reunited.

Alexios’s heel-face turn seemed so sudden. Like he’s furious up until he touches Leonidas’s spear, and he suddenly sees the light? I’m not saying that it can’t happen, but in a game brimming with mythology and magic, this was the thing that strained my suspension of disbelief.

And this was right after Kleon shot him in the back, too. but is it ever brought up? is his faith in the cult shaken by the fact that one of his “family” just tried to kill him? does Kassandra use it as evidence that the cult is using him?

nope. not once. not even a little bit.

And these are just some nitpicks, but for me, both Alexios’s subpar voice acting and Kassandra’s quiver disappearing (idk if that was a common thing or just my game) undercut the emotion of the scene.

cutscenes are not the time for errors like this, people!

too short

As much as I complain about a bloated game, the main storyline was way too short. If you play only the main story line, you’ll probably have uncovered about half the map. maybe less. Why do i care about the map? I don’t. But i do care about an underdeveloped story.

Maybe there was more plot that ended up on the cutting room floor, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether the game was slashed to ribbons or wasn’t there in the first place. We got a game that was too short.

The lack of length also exacerbates the tone problem. Had we had a longer story with more Deimos/PC interaction where cracks appear in Deimos’s armor, and he maybe even does something uncharacteristically charitable (out of more than pure shock), i could then buy his behavior on Taygetos as a last-ditch effort to maintain his self image in the face of his shifting world view.

If we’d had cutscenes like Syndicate where we could see a few moments from Alexios’s perspective, I could understand how that world view shifts and how the cult treats him.

but instead, we get an exponential graph of Alexios’s development. and it’s a damn shame.

Loss of Identity

for every AC game, there’s a million video essays laying out the problems with it. And in every one of those essays, there’s a line to the effect of “this game doesn’t feel like an Assassin’s Creed game.”

Previously, i was always of the school of thought that were was no “feel” of an AC game. the nature of the games is to change, in big ways and small ways, between games. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

But now, if you had me play this game and then AC1 and told me they were in the same series, i would never fucking believe you. The already thin common threads between games has been completely broken, even more so by going back in time. Origins had a similar problem, but it at least referenced the rest of the series with the hidden blade and the establishment of the Assassin Order. the only things “Assassin’s Creed” about Odyssey are the Isu and the title.

Other Nitpicks

Layla does not get out of the Animus nearly enough. I know most people hate the modern day line, but i like the break from all the historical action.

not calling Deimos Alexios/Kassandra in the subtitles. I know it was probably easier on the devs but just imagine the feels if the name changed when Deimos was being more vulnerable/letting his compassion show.

Kassandra can full-on see Atlantis and a Sphinx and still be amazed by every mythological creature that crosses her path.

people move way too much in dialogue cutscenes

animation and cgi are becoming so real that it’s creepy again

i appreciate the move to Actual Eagle’s Vision, but leave it in these games. I don’t want to get to the middle ages and be seeing out of a raven within a century of Atair’s Color Coding Eagle Vision. That’s not how evolution works.

While cool, the introduction of literally magical armor and weapons further proves that this isn’t a historical series anymore.

There is barely a stealth mechanic in this game, and when it’s used, it’s just used to pick people off before we’re noticed, not to avoid being noticed.

in a world where there are mercenaries and those mercenaries have to kill each other either for money or just to move up in rankings, mercenaries killing each other should not be illegal. if i try to fight one more mercenary and end up getting killed by the swarm of soldiers that just pony up out of no where, i swear to God...

why are soldiers acting as cops anyway doesn’t Athens have real, actual cops or equivalent

I think Ubisoft finally remembered they were rated M in Origins and Odyssey but it honestly just makes it harder to play around my parents

That’s as much as i can think of off the top of my head if i can think of more i’ll add it

#ac odyssey #kassandra #alexios #rant #deimos

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 2: Horror Film Clichés

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he's tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor and the girls take on the town as festivities kick off in the French Quarter, only to suffer the hallucinations he thought he'd left behind. On the way home things take a turn for the cinematically terrifying.

[READ IT ON AO3]

They’re certainly a trio to be reckoned with. Not that anyone looks in the mood to try.

Vera and a different pair of silk gloves — still in color-coordination with her outfit, which is pretty impressive — gently nursing her second hurricane through a neon straw. Taylor and his version of fun with his own looping straw in a coke bottle. And Kristin completely hammered between them; beads from the night before swinging with the shimmy of her body towards anything that looks even remotely fruity and, more importantly, on a ‘2 for 1$’ Mardi Gras Week special.

Frankly Taylor’s a little surprised. Would have thought his finally coming clean about the only secret left between them might have curbed her alcoholic appetite. He must not be hiding it well either; since Vera comes up beside him while they watch her do that thing drunk girl strangers do where they suddenly find the other girl the most beautiful creature in the world and will die if they don’t tell her.

So, like, typical Kristin stuff.

“She’s been looking forward to this for months,” Vera says with fond exasperation, “had three countdowns; one on her desk calendar at work, one on her phone, and —”

“Let me guess, one on your phone?”

Vera grins. “Old habits, huh?”

“Her exams were on my alarm schedule.”

“Ooh, gotcha.”

“Mmhm.”

He’d thought it would be hard getting along with Vera — the friend of the friend — but it couldn’t have been more the opposite. Vera was witty and charming and had the distinct drawl of a native Southerner without any of the local judgment. She was definitely as fish-out-of-water in the throngs of party-goers as he was; something hard to come by and even harder not to feel ashamed about in the natural, glowing presence of Kristin’s extroversion.

The hard part comes when it turns out most of the local clubs and dives Vera had put on their agenda have adapted to the needs of the season in all the colors of the vodka rainbow.

Taylor keeps insisting he’s fine — “no offense to your keen sober coaching skills but I have lived in this town on my own for a bit now, Krissy” — but she won’t have it. Not until she’s had her shot, had a mysterious game card punched (where did that come from?), and pushes them back out the way they came.

There’s a thoughtful touch to his arm that makes Taylor look back. Vera glances at the streets and their lights with something like recognition.

“I think I know a great lil’ place nearby if y’all are into anything off the beaten path.”

She says y’all like she’s speaking to them both but Kristin’s whoop of delight as she trades beads with a man covered from head to toe in different shades of glitter for kisses on the cheek says she’s long gone.

Which may work in their favor, actually.

“How far?” asks Taylor. Vera gestures airily.

“Just on the other block. It’s nothing special — just a place some friends and I used to hang out in when I was younger. More a place for historical value than something to add to Cookie’s drink card over there.”

But it sounds great to him. “I’m in. You wanna play rodeo this time or should I?”

As Taylor tips an invisible cowboy hat her way Vera giggles open and unafraid; puts on what she probably thinks is a more Texan edge to her accent and pretends the glittering floral piece on her bodice is a belt buckle.

“I think this is a two-man job, pardner.”

He tries to take her seriously — really, he does. But nope, nope, it’s just too silly. He can’t not laugh. “Never — ah! ha! — never do that again!”

Together they successfully corral Kristin back into the safety of their immediate vicinity and head over to Vera’s suggestion. Which, as it turns out, is exactly the kind of place Taylor’s been hoping they’d find all night.

Small and the exact opposite of crowded; filled with wooden surfaces both glossy and in need of a little love. Frames on the walls of years gone by but uncluttered — they leave him with the feeling of wanting to make his own space not just on the wall but in the world outside.

Once Kristin’s safe and snug in a rounded booth Taylor joins Vera up at the bar to bring back drinks.

“Two cokes and a water, please!” Even she sounds cheerier. What happens when you send two introverts out to party at one of the most crowded events of the year, he supposes.

“This one’s on me.” Taylor insists; is already forking out the bills.

Vera sighs but doesn’t exactly decline, waves in thanks as she heads towards the back where a neon sign says ‘LADIES.’ “Lemme go powder my noise for a second, cher.”

One minute he’s examining the bottles decorated with beads and stuffed with themed string lights for the occasion and the next he’s pressed against the bar with a hot and heavy voice husking in his ear.

“Pssst!”

Taylor sighs and gently pushes Kristin off. “I thought we told you to stay put in the booth.”

“Well, yeahduh,” she rolls her eyes like she’s done exactly as asked, continues on; “but this is more important!”

He waits. And waits. Finally has to ask. “What is?”

With drunken subtlety Kristin jerks her head to the last booth in the row. “That.”

“What?”

“That!”

Admittedly the first time he’s only humoring her. The second — and only because if she gets any louder the party outside might hear her — he actually looks. And probably would have missed the stranger and the glass he nurses in the shadows if Kristin hadn’t directly pointed him out.

His eyes haven’t exactly adjusted to the bar’s dim lighting yet; makes him have to squint with all tact out the window. There’s no pretending he’s doing anything other than trying to map out the face of the lone stranger.

Though there’s no pretending the stranger isn’t staring directly at him, either.

A leather-clad arm grabs his dusky tumbler and brings it up; lets it melt into the shadows he wears well. There’s an angular jaw and dark hair that blends in around him. The heavy tap-tap of a workman’s boot like an afterthought.

Whoever he is he’s definitely not dressed up for the festivities. Looks more at home in the shadows than the shadows themselves. Besides the glint of his eyes in the yellow bottled lights he wears the shadows perfectly.

Or maybe they wear him instead.

As a rule Taylor’s never been one to believe in cliches — things like love at first sight only happen in the movies. And judging by the chill that runs down his spine it’s definitely not love he’s feeling as his world zones in on the stranger and his shadows.

No, he’s quite familiar with this particular feeling; the tension in his jaw and the cold sweat that presses spandex and cotton to his back, the way things go a bit fuzzy around the edges and he’d rather this not happen ever again but definitely not now — not with people he knows.

Only… it doesn’t. As if he’s willed it into reality. Even with a heated face and the surprising tickle of sweat creasing on the outside of his eye.

Taylor waits, and waits, and waits… but the shadows stay shadowy and the man stays, well, manly. No hidden face in the depths — no sharp teeth or pitch-black eyes or, hell, rock-looking mountain skin.

The man is just a man. And as suddenly as the feeling overtakes Taylor it’s gone.

“Now Cookie, stop it — Taylor, hon? Taylor.”

Like the air was made of molasses and suddenly starts being air again Taylor turns his head all-too-quickly. Snaps to attention at Vera snapping her fingers in vain in front of his face. Lucky he’s still leaning against the bartop because the vertigo that follows is not pleasant.

“I… wha..?”

The back of her glove is warm against his forehead. He’ll have to buy her a new pair if he damages that one with his perspiration.

“Sweetheart,” the fact that the worry isn’t letting up in her tone should be evidence enough, “you look like the whole Mardi Gras parade just passed over your grave.”

The situation has the doubled effect of sobering Kristin up. She offers him what was supposed to be her water with a frown. “Damn, Tay, you look like a shadow or something.”

A shadow.

While terror at first sight might not be one of the cliches for the books he’s pretty sure vanishing into thin air is. The only thing left in the corner booth is the now-empty tumbler and a crinkled bill.

And there’s this sinking pit in his stomach that should he ask “Hey, what happened to that man in the corner?” the only answer he’ll get is “What man?” and another thing to tell his therapist about.

With shaking hands he takes the glass and sips it at Kristin’s urging.

“I —” god his throat burns like he’s not had a drop to drink in years, “— I think it might be my bedtime.”

He tries to laugh it off. Can’t even convince himself. Isn’t sure he wants to.

Vera gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. There’s something motherly about her smile. “I think it might be all’a our bedtimes.”

Kristin looks ready to argue — a look from her coworker stops her in her tracks; makes her silently agree.

Right now he couldn’t ask for better friends.

He could, however, ask for friends of a more sober variety.

“I don’t think this is the way to my place, guys. Why don’t we just call a car?”

“Relax worrywort,” Kristin tells him for the umpteenth time, “Vera grew up around here. She knows these streets like the back of her hand!”

She looks to Vera for confirmation but the look they get back is less than reassuring.

“It’s been a while since I’ve wandered these old roads, Cookie.” Vera looks apologetically at Taylor. He can’t blame her — he’s lived here more recently and still doesn’t know the back alleys and rues as well as he should.

“C’mon! Where’s your sense of adventure?” whines Kristin. Taylor’s pretty sure he left it back at the bar in the stranger’s corner.

Wherever they are they’re well beyond the party now. He strains to hear even the most distant sounds of the Quarter but the chorus of silence and accompanying locust orchestra.

Vera’s phone screen illuminates her face in a gaunt digital glow; shows just how quickly it turns into a frown. “That’s funky…”

“What is?”

She shakes her head, extends a hand. “Can I borrow your phone? My carrier must be mad I left New York.”

He offers it without thought. She takes Kristin’s, too, both screens like spotlights.

Funky isn’t the word he’d use to describe the troubled crease in her brow. “Vera; what is it?”

She lifts the phones skywards — points them at the numerous strings of telephone wires criss-crossing over them like a net. “Must be in a dead zone or something.”

Kristin giggles and knocks into his side. “Oooh how spooooky~”

Only he doesn’t share her sentiments. Not spooky but certainly troubling — and immediately his anxiety goes against him and decides to remember what Tilly the tour guide had said the day before about things worse than ghosts that liked to hang around New Orleans at night.

“Well then let’s walk until we find signal.”

There isn’t any three blocks to the right. Or two blocks up and four over. Kristin stops complaining about how much her heels make her feet ache a little while on. The night air’s done wonders to clear her head but he almost wishes she still had the distraction of a buzz to keep her from worrying.

If he wasn’t so concerned with the surroundings getting less and less familiar by the minute he might make a quip about their reliance on unreliable technology.

“What was that?!”

Taylor hisses; pries Kristin’s nails out of his arm like shrapnel. Can still hear her high-pitched shriek ringing in his ears. She sounds like just another cicada.

She’s fixated on the empty street behind them. Nothing moves under the dim lamplight — not even a bit of grass in the wind. Had there been a breeze before? He doesn’t remember.

Vera takes on a little bit of the Kristin-duty — gently coaxes her over to hold her gloved hand tightly and shushes her nice and steady.

“What spooked ya, baby girl?”

“I could have sworn I saw…” She searches the darkness with a scrutiny that doesn’t ease Taylor in the slightest. “There was a movement and…”

“And,” Vera finishes for her, “it was probably just a bird over the moon. You’re only freakin’ yourself out. One foot in front of the other, you know how it goes.”

It’s enough to get them moving again. Taylor rubs his hands over his bare arms and looks up at the cloud-covered moon.

Two more blocks and Taylor’s finally had enough. If they didn’t have any signal closer to civilization then they certainly aren’t going to get any in the heart of shotgun houses and street lights every quarter mile.

“This is getting us nowhere. Maybe we should just double back to the Qu —”

Kristin interrupts him with another shriek and a jabbed finger.

“There it is again!”

But, again, there’s nothing but the night. Taylor sighs. “Okay, no more ghost watch for Kris —”

This her third scream almost breaks his eardrums. Makes Taylor wince and clap a hand over one ear as he glares between the girls in frustration. How the hell she managed it with her mouth closed he doesn’t know, but it’s getting to be too much.

Makes him gawk at Vera who gives a full-body shiver. “Seriously?”

Tears prickle at the edges of Kristin’s eyes and her lower lip wobbles the same as it does when she sees a movie with more than one dog.

“Taylor… that — that wasn’t Kristin.”

“Stop, Vera, yes it —”

“Cher I’m standin’ right next to her.”

He takes a step forward. Feels a sudden cold like the bite of winter on the back of his neck as he places his clammy palm over Kristin’s mouth.

And, as if triggered by touch, the cicadas stop their serenade at the unearthly screech so loud it thins the air around them. The kind of noise that makes blood turn over and go sour. Makes it stop pumping in your chest and, in the void left, lets your heart begin pumping liquid fear instead.

They’ve all seen how this goes down: separation means being picked off, running means there’s something to run from. Like there’s something bred deep into their mortal bones the three take hands and usher one another along with haste.

“What is it?” Kristin whispers thickly.

“I don’t know —”

“— and I don’t want to find out.” Vera finishes for him. Keeps looking back behind them even though the high-pitched howl echoes off the ramshackle homes in all directions.

Taylor knows the logical thing to do would be to pound on doors until some sleepy, confused soul dares to confront them. Knows they’ll somehow be safe surrounded by thin walls and the presence of a stranger. The monsters in horror movies never show up when there’s an unknowing witness, right?

But logic doesn’t exist in horror movies.

And his life just became one.

The housing alleys open up onto a main road — deserted, as per horror movie logic — with a large brick wall across.

He recognizes it immediately.

“Come —” —does the howl that drowns him out sound closer or is it just him?— “— come on! Over the wall!”

They’re in the middle of the street when Vera gets her bearings; stops them all with a surprisingly strong grip despite the slippery gloves.

“No way!”

But the cemetery is so close. “Well we don’t exactly have a ton of options!” He hisses.

“Trust me on this when I say whatever’s locked up in there at night is worse than what might be out here.”

He yanks back his hand as if burned.

“What-ever?”

Taylor doesn’t miss it. Wouldn’t give a slip of the tongue much thought given the circumstances only Vera seems genuinely fearful at the distinction between who and what.

“Whoever—whatever! Just — that’s a dumb idea. You’re gonna get us killed.” She argues.

Kristin looks between them and bites her lip white. “Guys…”

“Vera, do you know something?”

“What — I don’t —”

“Do you know something about this?!”

In the absence of screeching the silence is somehow worse.

Vera looks down and to the left.

“No.”

Fuck. They so don’t have time for this right now.

“Krissy — come on!” Thank god she doesn’t hesitate — looks back at Vera crestfallen before crossing the road to the cemetery with him.

He’ll feel bad about leaving her behind if and when he gets the chance to look back — not fondly, no fucking way — but every nerve and fiber of his being is screaming uncertain about even that.

With grunts and effort he hikes Kristin up enough for her to grab onto the top of the wall. Fights off the paranoia that comes with the suddenly restless shadows around them.

Kristin lays flat on her belly at the top; reaches down and helps Taylor scramble up before his shoes can resist the mossy surface.

Poised to leap down he throws a last look back. Vera’s nowhere to be seen.

“Taylooor!”

He vaults down into the safe entrapment of Lafayette Cemetery Number Two.

Before both feet even hit the ground Kristin’s on him; smacking him with open palms and tears down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you just left her you asshole!”

She left Vera, too, but something tells him that’s not the right thing to say.

“It was her choice.”

“Dude — nobody thinks clearly in shit like this! Oh my god — what did I do? We need to go back.”

He grabs her wrists. “No. Krissy, no. Look at me. Look at me!” Doesn’t mean to shout but it’s the only way to get through to her right now. If anyone was the blonde in the movie…

“Something’s not right, okay?”

“Yeah, leaving her wasn’t —”

“No — fuck — stop! I mean it felt like she… she knew something… someone…”

And here comes the headache again. Maybe just being near alcohol is the problem. Can’t do much about it now — even sober it oozes from Kristin’s pores.

But is it a hallucination if they’re seeing—hearing—it too?

He watches her face crumple and does the only thing he can. Pulls her into a bone-crushing hug both to stifle her sobs and feel the grounding presence of her fluttering heartbeat.

“W-WW-We’re the dumb white teens in-n the gg-gore flick, Tay.”

There’s nothing humorous in his laugh.

“Yeah, we are.” Pushes her back gently and points behind her — across the cemetery to the far wall beyond.

“I was here yesterday. There’s a twenty-four hour cafe on that side. We make it there and by movie logic: no more being chased, right? Right?” He waits until she nods; tries to muster up a smile but knows the twist of it is nowhere near reassuring. “Good. Then come on.”

Only Vera had their phones. And the dead don’t need night-lights.

They use the worn stone tombs to keep themselves steady. Make it all the way to the dividing path of the cemetery under the cover of almost pitch darkness when the moon decides to peek its ugly mug out from behind the clouds.

The wind stops mid-groan.

He’s just being cautious. Just keeping an eye on their surroundings. No matter the who or the what there can be a very real danger posed in cemeteries at night. It’s not just a ploy to scare tourists. So he’s just being cautious.

Only he could repeat that excuse until his tongue bleeds and Taylor would know it’s not the whole truth. Not that he’d admit to knowing he needed to look at the entrance gates at that exact time in that exact place.

No; nothing save torture would get him to admit that.

Long wisps of tattered cloth billow in the still air. Translucent, like mummy wrappings. Trailing outwards from the gaunt and yellowing skull in a burial halo.

No, not a skull. Skulls don’t have flesh but as his eyes adjust to the waning moonlight he can see the rotting, putrid remains of skin still clinging; holding on for dear life against hard cheekbones, sinew holding together a gaping jaw.

The decay makes it harder to tell the difference between organic and fabric the more of the creature he takes in. Could play a funky little samba tune on each protruding rib but can’t see through it to the spine. The bones deform down at the hands; the talons bearing rust-covered manacles ripped from the depths of some place that makes him question his spirituality.

And Taylor imagines the combination might have made the feet of the thing look comical — if it had any. But it ends, stunted, at skin pulled taut over the pelvic bone before it dissolves into writhing maggots and the remains of what might have once been an angelic-white burial shroud.

But he’s an actor — he’s seen what the film industry can do, the magic of stage blood and putty. He’s seen some pretty ugly realities made from fake props.

It’s the smell that isn’t a fake. That same curling, chemical smell bodies have at wakes. Formaldehyde. And under that a sour and metallic odor that literally — no, literally — makes anything living near it wilt, brown, and wither into spidery white fungi and black-spiked mold.

The world is quiet. Almost blissfully so. Like it wants Taylor to let the creature be just another figment of his imagination.

It raises a claw. Warped fingers curled. And points at his heart.

Behind him Kristin gives a shattering shriek. The creature’s jaw falls gaping and meets her at every decibel.

His cries of “Go — go go — GO!” are lost to the ringing in his ears as the skeleton—thing—whatever-it-is raises its arms and tears through the metal gate in one fell swoop. Cuts through it like fingers through a waterfall and with the touch of death that makes the iron curl and twist in on itself; age with rust and years it shouldn’t have been forced to see so soon.

Then it’s floating — actually floating — towards them. Really really fast.

They trip over themselves, one another in their haste to run. Taylor makes sure to push Kristin ahead of him. Doesn’t know if that’ll do anything in the long run to prolong her life or just stave off her inevitable suffering but he can’t not try.

“Keep running!” Don’t look back.

“I am!”

“Don’t look back!” Keep running.

“Wasn’t planning on it!”

In a startling move Kristin grabs the corner of a mausoleum and whips around it — has to grab Taylor by the hem of his shirt so he can follow because there’s absolutely no way they’re splitting up now.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygo —”

His turn to yank her along through the narrowing paths between the crypts. “Nope — no time for that shit. Move!”

But in the back of his mind Taylor’s screaming at himself; they’re only going further into a cage of their own making. Leaping over the other wall was a good idea when they had the time and the clarity of mind but now, being chased by Jacob-Marley-from-Hell, they were in short supply of both.

And losing more by the second.

Hide. It’s coming.

Common sense, right? So why does Common Sense suddenly have a voice that echoes in his head like a thousand different cries?

Hide!

He spots the gaping void of black like moon gives it a spotlight. Grabs Kristin’s hair — he’ll apologize later — to get her attention. Together they slip between the sliver of space in the open stone door.

“In here!”

“What the fu—”

Taylor clamps his sweating hand over her mouth as their creature gives another howl to the night. Drags its claws against stone because why wouldn’t it be absolutely fucking terrifying like that?

He blinks; lets his eyes adjust to the almost-too-darkness to fixate on Kristin’s trembling eyes. A knowing glance and he lets his hand slip down.

“What do we do?”

Yeah, Common Sense, what do we do? Taylor knows he’s not going to get an answer. There’s no script here — no director and no blocking. Just him and his dumb brain being clouded by panic.

“All right listen,” he whispers back, “whatever… whatever that is it tore right through the gates. If we can get there maybe…”

“Maybe it’ll chase us out there?”

“Krissy.”

“I know — I know. I just…” She gives him a look and he knows. Feels it, too. That cold sweat and the fear of the unknown. But one step at a time.

They wait until the creature’s cry sounds distant; maybe on the other side of the cemetery? Maybe not — not that they really have a choice.

Taylor goes first. Looks left, right, left again and has a fucking heart attack at tree branches looming overhead but it’s enough space to run so they run for it.

Fouled rot his them like a wall and he doesn’t have to look back to know it’s behind them in hot pursuit. He does anyway. What skin is left around its mouth tears and snaps to push out another bellowing scream.

Blood drips hotly from its teeth.

“KRISSY RUN!”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice.

The chase could be minutes, could be seconds. It could be an hour-long montage of weaving in and out of narrow escapes and almost-captureds or something out of Scooby Doo. Whatever it is it sucks the life out of them both but only gives that thing more energy the longer it goes on.

And then—then—he catches sight of a familiar path of dead grass and a molding bereavement bouquet.

“Come on! We’re almost there!” he cries; reaches back behind him flailing for Kristin’s hand in his.

They’re going to make it.

I’m so sorry.

Stop. No. He can see the gate.

I’m so, so sorry.

Kristin’s fingertips like butterfly kisses brush his wrist. Then nothing. And now he knows how awful silence is compared to the cry of the dead.

Taylor skids to a stop. Turns to see Kristin just standing there in rigor mortis — just letting it approach her in undulating rags and spectral death. Watches with open-mouthed horror as one of the skeletal hands reaches out to touch her.

It’s obscene how gentle the touch looks. Soft like a lover brushing from the tip of her forehead to her parted lips. The more it trails the paler she becomes and he’s not crazy when he can see the pulsing, pounding of her veins running black instead of blue underneath her sheet-white complexion.

The hardest part is not knowing whether she turns to him in a last, desperate act or if the creature compels her head to turn. But the milky whites of her eyes are branded into his memory for good.

Kristin crumples to the dirt; another dead thing at its feet.

And it fucking grins at him.

The last thing Taylor realizes is how much the thing is enjoying it; this — the chase. Makes him feel a warmth down his legs through his jeans and leaves him paralyzed.

He’s pretty sure the image of Kristin’s eyes reflected in the abyss of its rotting sockets isn’t a hallucination. But the figure that appears seemingly out of nowhere behind? Oh most definitely.

And the bright white light that shines, radiates, swallows the shadows in a bellyful that leaves him blind? Yeah, that too.

And the weightlessness? Well… now he’s probably just dreaming.

He can’t remember… do horror films get last-minute rescues?

#nightbound #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #vera reimonenq #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[thenatureofpages]

5 Reasons You Should Consider Participating in NaNoWriMo

Leaves are changing colors, the air is crisp, and pumpkin spice lattes are available to the masses. Do you know what that means?

NaNoWriMo season is almost upon us!

That’s right – the nonprofit writer’s program National Novel Writing Month, commonly known as NaNoWriMo – is getting closer!

“Wait,” you might be saying, “What exactly does this mean?”

WELL! Allow me to tell you!

National Novel Writing Month is a writing challenge in November with a simple goal: write 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days.

NaNo is also far more than that – it’s a community, it’s a way of life, it’s – okay, I’m probably getting ahead of myself. I’m just really passionate about the program – in fact, I even wrote my college admissions essay on the life-changing power of NaNoWriMo!

1. Having a Deadline is Incredibly Motivating!

I don’t know if you’re anything like me, but if you are, then you struggle with procrastination. A lot. If procrastination were a major, I’d have a Ph.D. in the study. Yet every year when NaNoWriMo season rolls around, I find myself eager to write and hit my daily word count goal. I’ll wake up early, go to bed late, and even get my regular work done faster to have more time to write. The NaNoWriMo website also provides you with badges as you hit specific landmarks – your first 25k, writing for 10 days in a row, etc. – which I love to try and collect throughout the month.

2. A Sense of Community!

This is one of my absolute favorite parts on NaNoWriMo – the community! Currently, the site boasts over 370,000 participants between the Young Writer’s Program and the main NaNoWriMo program! Every November, Twitter, Bookstagram, and BookTube is flooded with posts and #WIP updates for WriMos to encourage, inspire, and support one another! The NaNoWriMo website also hosts forums for writers to flock together and form a community. I found some of my best friends through their website and am still heavily involved in local events too!

That’s right – not only is there an online community, but there are also offline ones as well! Most cities host NaNoWriMo events put together by your local Municipal Liaisons – MLs for short. Depending on your location, libraries, coffee shops, and bookstores have been known to hold NaNoWriMo meetings for writers to gather and participate in word wars and chat about your book. It’s a blast!

3. No Time for Doubt!

The basis of NaNoWriMo is writing 50k in 30 days – this means you’re writing 1,667 words every day. If you’re a fast writer, this might be easier for you, but it’s definitely not for me! This will be my fifth year participating in the annual event, yet the word count still catches me every time! When you’re writing so many words per day, you don’t have time to stop and edit what you’ve written! There’s no time for writer’s block! If you want to make it to the finish line and claim sweet, sweet victory, you have to trudge through it one foot – or word – in front of the other. Eventually, the writer’s block or problem-scene will end, and it’ll become smoother sailing once more.

For those of us who struggle with self-doubt or perfectionism, this is also super helpful. I tend to go back and fret over my writing style, “is this too trope-y?”, and all the lovely fears caused by our inner editors. During NaNoWriMo, I have an excuse to say, “Nope! I’ll deal with that in December! For now, just write!”

4. Author Pep Talks!

Look, if you haven’t read the NaNoWriMo author pep talks, you’re sorely missing out. My personal favorite is Lemony Snicket’s, written entirely in satire. I crack up and get inspired every time I read it! If irony isn’t really your cup of tea, they have tons of other pep talks cataloged in their archives, and new ones are sent out during NaNo season!

Here are several of my favorite pep talks given in the past few years:

Brandon Sanderson, Erin Morgenstern, Gail Carson Levine, Holly Black, James Patterson, Jenny Han, John Green, Kate DiCamillo, Maggie Stiefvater, Marie Lu, Marissa Meyer, Meg Cabot, Neil Gaiman, Rainbow Rowell, Scott Westerfeld, Stephanie Perkins, Veronica Roth, and Lindsey Grant.

5. YOU WRITE A FREAKING NOVEL!!

There is absolutely no better feeling in the world than this:

You’ve been writing nonstop for the last 29 days. The end of your novel is in sight – you’ve been through ups and downs with your characters, you’ve cried with them (or because they refuse to stick to your outline), you’ve plowed through writer’s blocks, and you stuck with it for an entire month.

And here it is.

Stare at those words for a moment.

The End.

You’ve written a novel. A NOVEL! It might be terrible – goodness knows some of my NaNoWriMo drafts are so awful that I have to laugh at myself – but you’ve done it. You wrote a novel. You’re a novelist. A writer. An author – published or not, it doesn’t matter. You’re an author to a first draft.

“But Ally…”

“But Ally…I just don’t have the time to write a novel.”

This is by far the most common reason I hear from people for not participating in NaNoWriMo – and who can blame them? Life gets in the way!

I totally understand – but it’s only for thirty days! After the month you can go back to the sanity of having free time – but for NaNo, we buckle down, we prioritize, and we drink our caffeine by the gallon.

The best advice I ever heard for this problem comes from Chris Baty, the founder and former executive director of the program. He’s written three books about NaNoWriMo and started off the whole event in 1999.

Write in the small moments.

Can you wake up twenty minutes earlier? Go to bed ten minutes later? Write during your lunch break? Jot down snippets on the ride home from work? It’s incredible how many small moments you can find when you prioritize your writing and how much they add up!

“But Ally…doesn’t quality matter more than quantity?”

This is definitely the second most common reason I’ve heard for being nervous about participating in NaNo. The naysayers insist that writing so many words in a month creates a chaotic mess of words with no real quality in writing (no, honestly, I’ve heard someone say this).

Yes, I’ll admit – my drafts are a chaotic mess of words. They’re messy, wonderful, sometimes rambly first drafts that absolutely suck – isn’t that beautiful? First drafts are allowed to be terrible. Usually, they aren’t all too bad – there’s enough to go off of for a second draft. Then maybe a third. Then a fourth, and soon enough, you’re well on your way to getting ready to query for an agent.

Don’t believe me? Check out some of these novels that started off as NaNoWriMo projects:

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Wool by Hugh Howey (soon to be a movie!)

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (already a movie starring Robert Patterson and Reese Witherspoon!)

The Beautiful Land by Alan Averill

Cinder, Scarlet, and Cress by Marissa Meyer (all three NaNoWriMo projects went on to become best-selling books!)

That’s a pretty dang successful list right there. I think it speaks for itself – NaNoWriMo clearly doesn’t skimp on quality for quantity.

I hope this blog post has been enough to convince you to start thinking about joining NaNoWriMo! I’ll let you in on a closing secret:

Even if you don’t make it to 50k, you still have more words than you started with!

If you only manage to write 200 words during the month of November – guess what? THat’s still 200 more words than you had before NaNoWriMo! At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how fast you write or what your word count goals are – it’s that you’re writing. And having fun. And probably losing some of your sanity but that’s beside the point.

I really, really love NaNoWriMo and hope I’ll see you on the website! If you decide to join, feel free to add me as a writing buddy to get started! I’m kineticbugsy on NaNoWriMo’s website and @natureofpages on Twitter, where I screech about word wars and character aesthetics throughout the month.

Go forth and write!

Are you thinking about participating in NaNoWriMo? Are you a veteran NaNo back for another season or a newbie? Tell me about your upcoming project or feel free to drop any questions about the annual event in the comments!

TNOP out!

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[purechaos27]

Dynasty Chapter 2

A subtle breeze brushes through the air, sifting its way through the fiery-crimson locks of the two sitting on a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. Choppy waves crash against the rough edge of the cliff, sending up a misty spray that briefly obscures the view of the red dawn. Yona has never been to such a place in person, but she trusts her companion’s memory and imagination enough to know that the fine details down to the taste of salt in the air are accurate to reality. The former king gazes ahead. “Had fun today, Yona?” “Uhn!” Yona nods in enthusiastic affirmation. “Soo-won and I hid from Hak today during hide and seek, though I’m not sure if Hak knew we were playing…” Hiryuu finally turns away from the dawn frozen in time to smile fondly down at his reincarnation. “You pulled off the temper trick to motivate Hak to run after you and Soo-won, correct?” “Yep! His face was really funny! I thought his vein was gonna burst!” “And what about your lessons?” Sudden silence as Yona turns around and starts to sweat nervously. “Eh, well, u-um you see—” A raised hand cuts her off. “It’s alright Yona, I understand. I know that it can be quite frustrating to be forced to listen to so-called scholars preach about incorrect or at least incomplete teachings. However.” His stern look quells the budding hope in the princess’s eyes. “That does not mean you can show such disrespect to your instructors by completely ignoring them and even running away in the middle of your lesson.” “But Hiryuu—” “Listen, Yona. All knowledge is worthwhile, even the biased history that is all your instructors know to teach you. To understand conflict, you must know all sides to the story. I have and will continue to teach you the unbiased truth that I have observed from my time above the stars, but as the future ruler of this kingdom, you must understand your own people. A ruler who cannot understand and connect to her kingdom is no ruler at all.” Yona looks down in guilt, kicking her feet to give a reason not to meet Hiryuu’s eyes. The adult sighs softly and brings his finger under her chin, tilting her head so that their eyes can meet. “Yona, I am not angry with you. Yes, I am slightly disappointed, but you are six-years-old. It would not be fair of me to expect you to—” “But I don’t want to disappoint you, Hiryuu! You are the only person who has always been with me; even father doesn’t always have time. I want to make you proud and be a kind, wise, and strong ruler of Kouka kingdom. You already have so many worries—don’t try to say you don’t, I know you’re worried about the Ouryuu! You shouldn’t have to add my competence onto the list as well. I want to change things in this kingdom for the better, but no one ever listens to me. If I can’t even convince my instructors that they’re wrong, how can I ever succeed as a ruler? Father just treats me as a child all the time, and when I ask about how the kingdom is doing, he just pats my head and says that everything is peaceful and everyone is happy. I know that’s not true so why, why does he…?” The little six-year-old girl breaks down into choking sobs before launching herself into her previous incarnation’s lap. Hiryuu looks down at the little girl who resembles him so much helplessly for a bit before trying to sooth her by patting her head. “Shh, shh, it’s ok Yona, you don’t have to worry about me. The kingdom will run just fine for now; you don’t have to change anything just yet. Yes, I worry about you sometimes, but that’s only natural for me. Adults tend to worry about children a lot, I know, it’s silly of us, right? I know you want to change this kingdom, and I won’t discourage you from doing so, but there’s nothing wrong with starting small. Try to make someone smile. Help out a servant who’s struggling with carrying a load. Thank someone…” Hiryuu rambles on and on, trying to soothe the princess’s concerns even as his mind works furiously to figure out just how he managed to miss this up-coming break down. I never knew she felt so much pressure, was I the one to cause this? The dragon king glanced sorrowfully down at the sleeping princess in his lap. I never wanted to—I just didn’t want her to be ignorant! I didn’t take into consideration her own stubbornness and determination. To think that she’d be worried about me! I don’t want her to think she’s responsible for the entire kingdom before she’s even 10. But how? I suppose…yes, that would work. But first… Hiryuu carefully stands up, making sure the princess is secure in his arms. As he walks away from the cliff ledge, the dreamscape slowly fades away to a familiar room. The decoration is tasteful, Hiryuu thinks as he gently lays Yona down on her own futon. It isn’t the garishly bright pink that most stereotypically imagine a princess’s room to be. Instead, the walls are decorated with to show a beautiful forest. Gentle branches spread out starting right behind the futon in the middle of the back wall, climbing overhead onto the ceiling and reaching to both sides of the room. Among the branches, the only splashes of color are four majestic dragons painted protectively around the futon. The futon in the center of the beautifully decorated room is covered by silk sheets of the highest quality, sewn with the detailed image of a crimson dragon. It’s a miracle no one’s figured the truth out yet, but Hiryuu supposes most people believe the story to be a myth nowadays. “Yona” The dragon sighs, “I’m truly sorry to have burdened you with such a heavy destiny for being my reincarnation. Although I will try to prepare you for your future as well as I can, I fear that you will have many years of pain and loss to face. I know you will bring about the change you so long for. Not because you are my reincarnation, but because you are Princess Yona of the red dawn.”

“…na. Princess Yona. PRINCESS YONA!” “Up! I’m up! I’m—hm? Oh, is it morning already Jae-eun? I—” The princess cuts herself off as she breaks into a wide yawn. The sound of an impatiently tapping foot interrupts Yona’s morning leisurely stretching. “Princess Yona.” The red-head freezes and robotically turns toward her servant, who gives an unimpressed look at her innocent smile. “Yes, Jae-eun?” “Don’t give me that look, Princess Yona! You know very well that your history lesson is first in the morning. Now up, up, time to make yourself look presentable. The maids have already drawn a bath for you and if you take too long the water will get cold.” A dejected sigh. “Alright, alright” Hiryuu did say that I can learn from my instructors, so I guess I’ll give it a try. The stuffy old windbag is so booooring though. All he does is go on and on about how our majestic kingdom brought peace and prosperity to all—he doesn’t even tell the story of Hiryuu and the Four Dragon Warriors, the founding of our country! But I don’t want to disappoint Hiryuu… Yona quickly gets washed and dressed before eating her breakfast (chicken porridge!) and running to her lesson. Her teacher is an old man from the earth clan with squinty eyes, a balding head, and a long, white beard. He’s dressed in the black colors of all palace instructors with a fan in hand. “Ohoho Princess Yona you are on time today! Perhaps this time you will not run off in the middle of the lesson?” I want to turn around and walk back out. Despite various uncomplimentary thoughts running inside her head, Yona takes a deep breath and sits down. For Hiryuu, for the kingdom, and for my pride because I don’t want to lose to this geezer. “Today we will be discussing how the reign of the sky tribe lead to wide prosperity…” Nope, she can’t do this. “Ah, actually instructor, today, could we learn something different? You are from the earth clan, correct? Could you teach me how the customs there differ from at Hiryuu palace? What are women and men expected to do? What activities and festivals are common? What does the earth tribe respect?” “Oh,” Her instructor looks taken aback. “But princess, that is not included in the original curriculum…” “That’s ok, I’ve already learned everything from the original curriculum.” Don’t say it, don’t say you know everything better than a windbag could ever teach, restraint! “But your father,” He tries to protest. “I’ll talk to father. Besides, this way I learn what I want to know and you don’t have to worry about me running away! It’s a win-win solution~” “U-uh, he-hem!” Yona watches delightedly as the geezer tries to regain his composure. “Well, if it’s ok with the king, then I will change the lesson plans. As you know, I am from the earth tribe. We are a strong, stubborn people and admire those who…” A smile spreads across Yona’s face as her eyes start to sparkle at finally learning about her people. “What about yourself? How did you become a scholar?” “Although books were rather scarce in my hometown, I learned to read…” “Do you have family?” “Yes, I have a son who has given me two wonderful granddaughters. My son was a soldier, but with the war-ban…” “Wow, I never knew General Geun-tae was so respected!” “Indeed, he is an idol to much of the clan. But I still remember when he was just a brat long ago”

“Are you sure?” “Yes! I just passed by the room!” “But-but, I just don’t see how that’s possible, the princess has never enjoyed a history lesson since she first started them two years ago.” “Still, I’m telling you, I was walking by the Chrysanthemum room on my way to deliver the laundry and I saw the princess asking questions.” The maid’s mouth drops as she stares wide-eyed at her friend. “Asking questions?” She squeaks out. “H-how is that—what do you think might’ve caused such a change?” “That’s the thing, no one knows! She just woke up today and arrived on time to her lesson for once, and the next thing we know, they’re discussing the earth clan with active participation and interest on her part. I mean, I’m not going to complain because this makes our jobs easier—we don’t have to worry about chasing the princess down after she escapes each day, but don’t you think it’s a bit strange?” “Well, let’s just hope this change of heart holds for a while.” “Yes, I suppose that’s all we can do for now,” Both maids nod at each other and go their separate ways. Rumor travels fast in the palace and before Yona’s history lesson that day ends, theories as outlandish as spirit possession and a missing twin sister are flying around. Yona, oblivious to the chaos her drastic change has caused, simply skips her way to her father’s room to discuss alterations to her lesson plan.

#dynasty #akatsuki no yona #akayona #writing

[ecotone99]

[MS] Her Rose Garden

I might start turning these little story starters into actual stories. I'm going to just give a sample of one, and you can tell me what your thoughts are on it, deal? Thanks! First up!

19. Rose Garden

A soft humming tune filled the air, as a petite figure busied herself with watering the large garden of red, golden yellow, and pink roses. As she hummed, and the water can went spraying all over the petals and leaves, she thought to herself, 'What a wonderful morning for gardening.' A soft giggle followed, as her strawberry blonde hair bounced from the joy in her step, as she pranced over to refill the can.

"Quite a wonderful garden you have there, Cherilee!" a male's voice rang out, catching her off guard, making her nearly drop the can of water.

"Oh, um, good morning to you too, Mr. Finner! I see you're admiring my garden," she replied, running over to the gate to open it up for the 30 year old man.

He wore a dark blue and black suit proudly, with a spectacle covering one eye, and a top hat sitting upon his mop of brown hair, combed nicely. With a smile, he looked upon the roses of many colors, and walked in with his hands behind his back.

"My, my, you sure have been busy, haven't you Miss Cherilee," he commented, taking out his pocket watch to check the time briefly, before putting it away.

"Why yes, Mr. Finner! Getting up every morning to make sure my beautiful children get their water is what I live for!" Cherilee spoke proudly, giggling as she pranced back over to a bush she hadn't attended to yet.

The man watched her in silence, keeping his hands behind his back. He wondered how such a petite young lady managed a garden like this all by herself. Walking over to watch her water the red roses, he raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

"So, how did you manage to work on this garden of yours? It's pretty exquisite to be one of such talent."

Cheriliee gives a dark smirk for a moment's glance from the Professor, before giggling lightly. "Oh Mr, Finner, you flatter me. I've been working on this garden for years. It's one of my greatest achievements! To keep the garden fed, and the leaves trimmed, it's one of my greatest pleasures."

"Oh really? Well, that sounds absolutely splendid. Oh my, look at the time! I must be off. History won't teach itself. Have a wonderful day, Miss Cherilee."

The man quickly left her humble garden, only to hear a whisper in his ear speak softly to him.

"Help us!"

Hearing the sudden sound of a whisper calling for help, the Professor turned his gaze back towards Cherilee, who was busy pulling up some weeds for the moment.

"Did you say something, dear?" he asks, scratching his head lightly.

"Pardon? I don't believe I said anything, but I hope your day goes well!"

"Yes...uh...you too..."

Once the gate was closed behind him, it locked automatically, making Cherilee stand slowly with the weed cutter held tightly in her grip. Giving off a dark aura of anger, she turned to the rest of her garden with a wicked grin, "Who spoke up? Who?"

The garden stayed silent, making her eyebrow twitch with impatient, "Speak up now! Who was it?!"

A small rose bud peeked out of the corner of one of the bushes, showing off a pair of bright blue eyes full of fear. "I-it was me..." it spoke in a soft tone.

Cherilee walked over slowly to them, and fell to her knees, before taking the bud gently within her fingers. She could feel the rose bud shivering, rustling up their leaves and wanting to hide their face with its petals.

"So, what made you think you can go around asking strangers for help, hm? Did I give you permission to speak? DO you want the others to pay for your disobedience?? Must I always be so patient with you??"

Without waiting for a word, she used the weed cutter to snip the rose from its stem, making a dribble of blood pour from the bush. The rest of the garden whimpered and gasped as Cherilee mercilessly crushed the rose bud.

Standing to her feet, she growls, "Let this be a lesson to you, lot! I will only keep you here for as long as I want, and you will never defy me, or you'll all end up with the same fate! I gave you a home, I keep you well fed, and this is the thanks I get?!" She threw the rose on the ground, and stomped it to pieces. "You will stay silent, unless I give the order to speak, understand!?"

The garden fell silent, making her chuckle, as she went back to her pretty cheerful tone, "Good. That's all I wanted to hear. Silence."

~~

A pile of papers were placed inside of another filing cabinet, as Bennett did his best not to complain. The work pile up was ridiculous, his coworkers were off on other duties, and he still hadn't been able to capture the one causing so much trouble for the city.

There have been many cases of children going missing in the nearby areas, as of late, and still the only clues the man has found, were pictures with info of whom was missing. The parents were becoming devastated, and some even began thinking of moving to a different state or another city. None would think that their children was dead, since it has been a few years that these cases have come about.

Just where is this captor, and why children under the ages from 5 to 9? Sighing deeply, Bennett plopped down into his seat, running a hand over his tired face. Working late night hours again, just for this; it was slowly driving him nuts. Who knows what those children were up against? What was the captor trying to say? Opening up a cabinet underneath his desk, he took out the files of the recent missing children of this year.

Mattie Williams. Age 8.

Kasey Jockins. Age 9.

Peter Alleck. Age 6.

Raven Yorkshire. Age 9.

And Thomas Dilsworth. Age 7.

5 children in a span of a few months. How did it get so bad, and what was this captor’s motive? For all Bennett knew, this captor was interested in gingers and dirty blondes, but why? It was already creepy enough, but to be specific, the girls were the red heads, and the boys were dirty blondes. Why?

Just why?

Groaning in frustration, he bends over the folders and paperwork. “Ugh.”

A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, making him nearly jump out of his chair, only to see one of his friends grinning down at him.

“Hey Ben, what’s going on tonight? Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.”

Groaning again, Ben turned back to his friend with a light smirk, “Very funny, Kyle. I’m just going over some more paperwork.”

“Business is still booming?”

“For the most part, trying to solve this case without any leads is getting me nowhere.”

The tall man gives a chuckle, placing a platter of food next to the detective, while taking a seat next to him.

“What are you doing here anyway, Kyle? I thought you were banned from coming to see me,” Ben joked, taking the can of soda from his friend, who gives a soft laugh.

“I just wanted to check up on my buddy. Can’t have you staying overnight again, can I? You do have a bad habit of letting your work get to you. Can I see what you got working for ya?”

Sliding the files over to him, Kyle studied the children’s profiles, humming lightly in thought. “Hm. Seems like a pattern to me. Why do you think they are interested in children, anyways?”

After taking a swig from his drink, Ben gave a shrug, placing it onto the table, “Who knows? I’m not getting anywhere like this.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I brought you this too,” Kyle mentions, placing a file down onto the table.

It was a brand new kind of envelope that was black, with white letters written on it: Classified. “What’s this?” Ben asks, opening the file carefully, so as not to rip anything. Usually files like these meant whatever profile was behind it, the person was seriously dangerous, or just mentally insane.

“You know that mansion up on Blue Hill, Ave?” Kyle asks curiously, watching as Ben looks over the file.

“The one with that huge rose garden you mean?” Ben frowns in thought, while Kyle nodded.

“Yes. Lovely garden, isn’t it?”

Ben nods, now concentrating on the file. There was a girl with long dark brown hair on it, with a wide smile that looked a little too forced to be real. She had pale skin, and light green eyes, and was wearing a prisoner’s outfit. Her name was Muriel Josephine Kinley, Age 24.

Her reasons for imprisonment were blotted out, and her history wasn’t there either. Ben couldn’t get much from this, if anything at all.

“Just thought I’d give you another file to add to your suspects list,” Kyle mentions, sipping his soda, before crushing it and throwing it far into the trash bin.

“Have you ever seen this girl? Why would she be a suspect? Isn’t she in prison?”

“Nope. Word got out that she’s escaped, and is on the run, apparently. But, it’s been a few years, and no one’s seen her since. Think she could be out there wrecking havoc?”

“Could be. I’ll keep an eye out for the time being. I think I’ll call it quits for tonight, my head hurts.”

Ben placed all of the files back into his drawer, locking it with the key, before planting it into his pocket. Getting up and grabbing his jacket, he turns back to see Kyle cleaning their food and placing it into a bag.

“Are you crashing at my place again, Ky?” he asks, while he looked over the office, before turning out the lights.

“Yes man, if you don’t mind. My roommate was having friends over, and I wanted to get some air anyways. While you get some rest, I might watch some footage we had gotten that may confirm who the perp was that robbed the city’s museum again.”

“Don’t they usually have the Eagle Agency working in that department?” Ben led them both to his car, quickly getting in and turning the engine on.

“You’re forgetting that I had to go undercover as the museum manager, while he was on vacation to keep a lookout. Sadly, the perp got away with the find, and the police are on the case. The Agency though I heard, has hired another to get on the case. Black Phoenix is the name.”

“Black Phoenix, huh? If heros are taking lightly to such petty names, I’d say that one is unique, but you know, who cares nowadays?”

“Haha, you got that right.”

“What was stolen again?”

“The Egyptian Sphere. Says it can grant anyone any wish, but it’s limited. Some say others who have sought after it, and used its powers, ended up dead in the long run.”

Ben chuckles, “Guess they couldn’t handle the rules, huh?”

To be continued...

submitted by /u/The_Writer_Rae [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/36kNJ0U

#Blogger #Story

[mindcoolness]

Sexual Abstinence Challenge – Part 4 [100/100 Days]

New Post has been published on http://www.mindcoolness.com/blog/sexual-abstinence-challenge-part-4/

Sexual Abstinence Challenge – Part 4 [100/100 Days]

People are imperfect. They make bad decisions from time to time. And so do I. For example, I made a bad decision by taking up a 100-day sexual abstinence challenge. Spoiler alert: The main lesson I learned is that I will never do it again.

Do I counsel you to chastity? Chastity is a virtue with some, but with many almost a vice. […] To whom chastity is difficult, it is to be dissuaded: lest it become the road to hell—to filth and lust of soul. (Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra)

But before I talk about my conclusions, let’s talk about my results first.

Did I succeed?

Yes and no. Except for my failure on day 27, I managed to not ejaculate until day 100, which was yesterday. Given that this was the hardest willpower challenge I have ever done (and I have done many), I could say that I succeeded and that I am proud of myself. In reality, however, things are more complex.

I did some stuff during the challenge that I am not proud of. Porn is a big one. During the last 40 days, there were two weeks where I watched a lot of porn. In particular, I heard about Chaturbate and got immediately hooked.

My excuse was that this would be a good way to take my challenge to the next level. As if it weren’t already tough enough! I told myself that I would strengthen my Will even more if I practiced orgasm control while facing temptation, instead of running away from it. But what did actually happen? Well, I fell into a pleasure trap and started edging (masturbating without cumming).

Thankfully, I had a lot of other stuff to do, so I did not waste alarming amounts of time. Still, it took me almost two weeks until I could keep the site blocked on my laptop for good. And I shall never unblock it again, for the sexual enticement there is just too demonic.

Before my ascetic days, I did not have an unhealthy relationship to porn. I would sometimes challenge myself to go 30 days without: not a big deal if one has some willpower. And when I allowed myself to watch porn, I primarily used it to get a quick orgasm and clear my focus. I never spent two or three hours in a row watching porn like an addict. On some days during the last 40 days, however, I did, and it made me feel awful—because it hedonistically limited my freedom.

Another thing I am not proud of is that instead of letting my sexual arousal dissipate through mindfulness exercises, which never worked past the duration of the exercise, I constantly had to distract myself from it. That is the blunt secret behind my victory…

How did I do it?

I managed to stay sexually abstinent and not ejaculate for so long only because I manically distracted myself from all temptation. I would be continually physically active until I fell asleep. If I was not working at my physically demanding job, I would be lifting weights, training jiu-jitsu, or walking in the woods conceiving new ideas for blog posts. This was unhealthy, of course, and I totally exhausted myself.

My sexual abstinence did not give me more energy. Rather, it forced me to stay frantically active by making the temptation unbearable as soon as I would try to relax my body. And whenever my sex drive got a hold of me, I had to pay the price: waste tons of energy on resisting temptation, feel bad about myself despite not surrendering, and then get a shitty night of sleep because my mind was too obsessed with sex—and eventually wake up unrecovered, tired, only to run away from temptation again.

But the physical exhaustion was helpful. The more I impaired my hormonal health, the less I cared about sex. Those were the days where I did not have to resist any temptation, and there were many of them. So my ascetic period was not one constant struggle. On about half of the 100 days, I had no sexual desire to overcome; then it was easy and I did not even think about it—at least as long as I stayed away from my computer and from women in real life (I did not go out at night and I rarely approached girls during the day).

Over the past 40 days, I only approached two sexy women (just to prove to myself that I could still do it), and both times it evoked a disaster. Obviously, not getting laid is zero challenge for me, a single male non-celebrity. But not jerking off to my mental image of a hot chick I flirted with earlier posed a tremendous challenge, particularly since I had not had sex in over two months. Hence, I did my best to stay away from everything female, both online and in real life.

Nope…

What was my experience like?

In parts 1-3, I wrote about how much anger, hate, frustration, and emptiness I felt on this challenge. This part of my experience changed substantially after I had somewhat of an epiphany. Now I know that I can be happy with or without sex, although sex will add more colors to my joy.

Furthermore, my feeling of emptiness was not necessarily tied to my lack of sexual satisfaction. It could just as well be that my lack of intimacy made me feel empty inside. After all, I had no girlfriend nor any contact with former sexual partners during the entire experiment. (Yes, part of my motivation to do this challenge was to have an easy excuse to not invest any time in women for a while; however, considering the time I had to invest in resisting distraction, it was not absolutely worth it.)

Another thing: I expected that I would get used to the lack of sexual satisfaction and overcome my sexual desire at some point. I hugely overestimated the power of my Will there. The truth was: It never got easier. My desire always came back with undiminished force. The fight was never-ending.

I found that quitting sex is not like quitting sugar or a drug. When you stop eating sugar or taking a drug, you only have to struggle until you break the habit and overcome the addiction; then the hardest part is over. But when you stop masturbating and having sex, you have to continue struggling, on and on and on. The struggle never ends, and it never gets easier.

What makes the difference is that breaking an addiction brings you back to your healthy natural state, whereas fighting against sexual temptation means resisting the healthy pull of your natural state. Ejaculation is a biological need, not a bad habit.

In other words, this challenge taught me that I am far from being an enlightened master stoic. Rather, I am a very normal human being. A simple man with manly needs. And no force of Will is able to change that, for the force of sex is in my blood. Ultimately, denying this force will only upset, disrupt, destroy the harmony in my soul.

But my experience was not all negative. For example, having seen no pussy in a while, I developed an eager erotic curiosity that would be triggered whenever a young woman caught my eye. I felt giddy with lust like a boy in puberty, excitedly hoping to spot further aspects of her body. This was a positive experience because here I had what Buddhists call a “beginner’s mind” (shoshin). Needless to say, as soon as I was back home, that innocent lust would rapidly turn into menacing temptation.

Usually, whenever I became too obsessed with sex, I would just jerk off and be done with it. Ejaculation immediately kills all my sexual desire (at least for a while). But as I could not allow myself to ejaculate during the challenge, I was permanently trapped in the pre-orgasmic phase, unduly overvaluing the importance of sexual pleasure. Before I cum, sex is the greatest thing in the world; afterwards, sex is utterly uninteresting. That is how it should be for a man. My resistance to sexual release, however, turned sex into a constant high priority for my body—hence the temptation, hence the contra-productive struggle, hence the stupid nature of my challenge.

Did I get what I want?

In a blog post about my New Year’s resolution for 2017, I announced my motives for doing this challenge:

Why do I do this?

to train my bodily self-control and exercise self-mastery

to have a simple reason not to hit on random chicks when I should be focused on more important things anyway

to learn how my interactions with women change when I know that banging them is not an option

to test the hypotheses claimed by the NoFap community: does the eschewal of sexual release make a man more confident, energetic, focused, sociable, and sexually magnetic?

to have more time for working and writing while transmuting my sexual energy into productivity

to see how it affects my masculine psyche

Now let’s see whether I got what I wanted out of completing the challenge:

Self-mastery. This was a partial success. On the one hand, yes, I did train my bodily self-control hardcore. On the other hand, I think I could have done better in terms of strategies. My primary strategy was to distract myself by becoming a workaholic, inconsiderate of my bodymind health. Although I tried, I should have put more effort into pursuing a mindfulness-based strategy.

Anti-pickup. This was a partial success as well. Often times, yes, I felt liberated from the juvenile pressure to approach whenever I saw a cute chick. Many other times, however, I felt like a coward when I did not open my mouth, and when I did, I always had to deal with the repercussions back home (temptation to masturbate). In a sense, I conditioned myself to associate approaching women with something bad. I just hope that this conditioning is as short-lived as the interactions I had with them.

Behavior around women. This one was a disaster. My typical behavior around women during the challenge could be best described as lethargic. The lethargy definitely resulted from the incessant suppression of my sexual urges together with my physical exhaustion. Accordingly, my game has suffered quite a bit during those 100 days. I am sorry, but the online myth that a man starts becoming the center of all female attention just because he has not shot a load in a while is ridiculous (sure, there might be a little increase in testosterone after about a week, but life is more complex than that).

NoFap benefits. No, I did not experience any of the superpowers allegedly gained by quitting masturbation. While this could have other reasons too (e.g., I did not consistently stay away from porn for 100 days, nor did I try to get laid as most NoFappers do), I have many reasons to believe that those benefits are nothing but placebo effects. As far as semen retention goes, sorry, I did not experience anything that would speak in favor of it. If semen retention is good for anything, then for increasing willpower; but there is an infinite amount of other methods that strengthen the human Will—methods that are actually healthy and productive (check out my book Willlpower Condensed).

More time and energy. This was, again, a partial success at best. On the one hand, yes, I had more drive to be active. On the other hand, I already explained that this drive was more frantic than energetic. And regarding time, well, on some days I had more time because I did not waste any on dating and having sex, but on other days it wasted hours on battling with my Will against temptation. A few minutes of jerking off until orgasm would have been nothing compared to the prolonged hardship I had to go through when I was horny, alone at home, and having the Word Wide Sexy Web readily available.

Masculinity. Apart from the fact that this experiment challenged my Will, it did not really do much good for my masculine psyche. I do not feel like I have become a better man, nor do I feel spiritually empowered. I simply feel like a man who has not had sex in a long time and who just wants to relieve himself.

What will I do now?

I was thinking a lot about what to do once I am done with this challenge. Should I hire an escort for a weekend? Should I try to reconnect with old fuck buddies? Should I take a Sunday off to binge-watch porn for an entire day? Should I take a week off to travel to Prague or Vienna to go out every night and do pickup? No. I see it as a demand of my self-discipline not to do anything radical just because my challenge is over now. That would be shortsighted.

Still, I definitely will do these three things:

A new lay. I will do some pickup again, probably mostly daygame with moderate effort, and try to get a new lay within the next three weeks. After a 100-day cold streak, I feel a masculine obligation to do that. Considering that I live in a small city, do not have much time on my hands, and my pickup skills are rusty by now, three weeks are a realistic goal.

Non-habitual, non-visual masturbation. I will not keep up my current habit of refraining from masturbating and ejaculating. Porn is for losers, sure, but isn’t NoFap for losers, too? Men who get overly passionate about NoFap tend to have these common characteristics: an addiction to online porn, social anxiety, and a general lack of self-discipline, self-confidence, and pickup skills. NoFap will probably be good for men who suffer from these issues; in general, though, I think that masturbation is awesome. It feels good, it brings me in touch with my body, it helps me to wind down naturally, and it makes me less needy around women because I know that I always have the option of going home (or kicking her out of my home) and jerking off to a mental image of her. I do not find this sad at all; it is liberating! After all, resisting the temptation to masturbate when I feel really, really horny costs way more time and energy than just doing it, enjoying it, and getting it over with. Therefore, I will start masturbating again, but I will not watch porn or anything arousing while I do it, and I will not make it a habit because that would only diminish the quality of my experience; lastly, as always, moderation will be key.

Next challenge. I have already started a new challenge today. This time, I have chosen something positive, something that makes me take action rather than halt action, and something that will actually have a positive effect on my life. I will do the 8-week mindfulness-based stress reduction program by Jon Kabat-Zinn. You can read more about this challenge and my experiences with it here[blog post coming soon].

The most important thing, however, I have already done because as I am writing this, I am past 100 days… And freedom is flowing through my veins again. My blood is liberated! I ejaculated and I feel free. Total fucking freedom. Nothing else. I did not even bother getting laid. Rather, I took it into my own hands and liberated myself. From myself. From the shackles of my own misguided discipline. I have cast out the demons of my sexual repression. And I feel great.

Conclusion

Self-denial of pleasure is only good if that is what one’s True Will demands and if it is necessary to achieve a concrete goal. Sexual asceticism just for the sake of it is bullshit. I would not even recommend it for the learning experience.

If sex is an expression of love, then my challenge was a war on love. I fought this war for a while, but no matter how good a soldier I tried to be, I could never win. While I may have won the challenge, I have lost the war for sure. A war on love, a war against one’s own nature, is idiotic.

Praise thee, o Nature, for thy sexual enchantment! I shall henceforth obey. Ad libertatem naturae!

Further Reading on my Sexual Abstinence

Sexual Abstinence Challenge – Part 1 [30/100 Days]

Sexual Abstinence Challenge – Part 2 [50/100 Days]

Sexual Abstinence Challenge – Part 3 [60/100 Days]

How Our Beliefs Undermine Our Happiness

#discipline #self-discipline #Blog