#so many people think they can't see at night without a flashlight and that's just not true

[solarmorrigan]

Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #while I'm sure steve would love a dog too I just really see him as a cat person #he wants to spoil the shit out of something and that's what cats are made for #meanwhile Eddie is losing his mind because cats love him normally. they LOVE him! what is wrong with Steve's cat! #(she does not like sharing steve. that's it that's the reason) #solar wrote

[peachymilkandcream]

Movie!William Afton x Wife!Reader Scrapped Part 2

(A/N: Someone asked in the comments of the last one for a Part 2 and here we are! Part 2 of Scrapped babyyyy! In which Vanessa is reunitted with her mother. I also may or may not have been watching Markiplier's FNAF playthroughs while writing this but hey. Hope you enjoy and please read the warnings!)

WARNINGS: Implied and mentions of noncon, dubcon, violence, domestice violence, age difference, power dynamic, murder, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, descriptions of gore

=============================================

William had been recovering well, his deep wounds had become little more than dark red dents in his skin as he healed. Husband and wife had been silent since that night, aside from simple requests and small talk they hadn't talked about what they saw, what they knew. She knew about the murders, she knew what he was, each of the children, stuffed into the suits of the place where they had brought their own children so many times. And yet she said nothing.

"So are we going to pretend nothing happened?" He asked all of a sudden while she changed his bandages.

"What do you mean?"

"The murders. You know. What got me into that suit, surely you figured it out by now, you're not that stupid."

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to convey her true feelings. "Yes I know."

Annoyed she doesn't continue he presses further. "And? You can't just say nothing."

"What is there to say William? You killed children, you almost died. What more can I say? You think I'd leave you now? Report you to the police?"

"That's how most normal people would react."

His wife sighs, trying to find the words. "Look. You're my husband. I have no life outside of our marriage. No education, nowhere to go, I don't know where Micheal or Vanessa are because you told me they left without a trace so how could I get rid of you? You're my support, my rock."

William lets a half smile come to his face, this was the woman of his dreams. Sticking by him through thick and thin. He almost regrets not telling her years ago about what he did, maybe then he could have someone to help clean up his messes. "You're really are special, you know that?"

She blushes and he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, settling his hand on her chin and pulling her closer and in for a kiss. All his schemes and plans had led up to this, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

===========================================

Every once and a while Vanessa liked to visit the old place, despite everything her father had done she had some fond memories as a child here. It was the one place where her mother was happy, all the other memories she had of her were crying or blindly agreeing with whatever her dad said. The times she'd venture to the back office just to witness her father forcing her mother down. Vanessa shivered, sure this place had a few good moments, but most were overcast by the dark shadow of her father's madness.

But memories wasn't why she was there that night, she was searching for William. Ever since that night she couldn't get him out of her head, he was most likely dead from his wounds, but the thought didn't comfort her. She had never actually seen him die, and knowing him, it was like he had nine lives. Worry brought her out tonight, she had to see the body to feel safe in her own home again, content that he really was never going to come for her again.

It didn't help that she couldn't find it now, from what Mike had told her the children had dragged him away in that damn suit, but to where was anyone's guess. The place had always been too big, and now she was scouring it just for a peace of mind.

Lights other than her own flashlight in the main dining room caught her attention. She hoped Mike hadn't brought Abby back to visit, she could kill him for that if William was somehow still alive. But her flashlight slid from her hand when she saw the woman she thought she'd never see again.

"...Mom?"

Her mother looked up, surprised to hear the voice, but tearing up when she saw her sweet daughter. "Vanessa? Is that you my dear? Oh my what are you doing here?"

She holds out her arms for a hug, which Vanessa rushes into. How long had it been since she'd talked to her? Every time she had phoned William answered and demanded that she never call back. The one time the call went through all her mother did was defend William with every breath she had even as Vanessa told her about the crimes he had committed.

"I missed you mom-" Vanessa gives her one final squeeze before letting go. "I should ask what you're doing here."

"Well these things were your father's pride and joy, it hurts me to see them rot like this. Plus I feel like I have more of an understanding of them now."

Vanessa perked up. "Now? Why now?"

Her mother met her gaze. "I know about it Vanessa, what William did, I know about it all."

She sighs with relief, finally her mother believed all the rumours, now with dad gone she could be free of him, free to live her life. "I'm glad you don't have to live with the lies anymore Mom, he kept so much from you."

"I'm sure he had his reasons, your father is a headstrong man."

Frustration flowed through Vanessa, she always did this, her mother never had a backbone on anything except when it came to Dad. People regularly walked all over her and she just accepted whatever anyone said except if it was against that man. "Mom he kept me and Micheal from you."

"But honey you never called, how could he keep me from you."

Tears spring into her eyes. "I called Mom...I called...so many times, he answers and then doesn't tell you I've phoned-"

"Now why would your father do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath Mom, I've been telling you this for years. He hurt you, he neglected us, he murdered children! How can you defend him?!"

"Don't raise your tone at me young lady."

Vanessa sighs and tries to calm her nerves. "Why didn't you leave him Mom?"

She crosses her arms. "And go where Vanessa? You and Micheal left and without an education or a means to support myself where could I go? Your father has given me everything I could ask for. And on top of that I love him to death."

"He hurt you Mom-"

"And I needed a bit of discipline when I was young and reckless, I've changed for the better."

Vanessa sighs. "Whatever, I won't argue." She shifts feet awkwardly. "How have you been holding up though? With him gone."

What she didn't expect was her mother to seem confused. "What are you talking about? Your father hasn't gone anywhere."

Her eyebrows furrow, and dread fills her as she hears footsteps. The same dread that filled her dreams, praying that she wouldn't see her father come through those doors like he did now. "There are you are my love. And who's this? You found dear Vanessa, coming to find me and fix me up, don't worry sweetheart, your mother already did that."

Vanessa stares at her mother with wide eyes. "You helped him!? Why!? Why didn't you just let this bastard rot!?"

"He's your father Vanessa, be respectful, and besides, I couldn't just leave him here to die could I?"

"Yes! You could have avenged those poor children!"

William smirked. "As you can see your mother hasn't forgotten her loyalties like you have. She fixed me up good as new, she was worried about me unlike you. I knew you'd come back, I knew you wouldn't have let that wound kill you so easily. Now you prey on your mother, filling her head with doubts and ideas to fit your selfish narrative. No more. You will never speak to her again or else I'll finish what I started."

"I can't do that Dad, I can't let you continue hurting her."

William sighed. "That's such a shame. We could have been a family again but you insist on breaking your mother's heart." He runs a hand through his wife's hair. "Sweetheart? Go wait in the car while I take care of this with our daughter."

She simply nods, leaving the two alone and not questioning the murderous look in his eye.

"Now Vanessa, shall we finish this?"

============================================

A long time had passed, and finally William joined her in the car.

"Is everything okay honey?" She asked.

"Yes dear, Vanessa and I had a good heart to heart, she won't be bothering us again."

She accepted it, as always, although deep down she questioned why a heart to heart covered him in so much blood.

#william afton x reader #william afton x oc #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x oc #fnaf #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddys movie

[havocskies]

OBSESSION | DANNY JOHNSON X READER PART 1

please please PLEASEEEE keep in mind this is a very old fic i started on quotev/wattpad and am now moving here. this is NINE MONTHS OLD i swear my writing has gotten better, part 2 is already done and part 3 will be worked on. it's quality will be much better i swear.

ೃ⁀➷ You have always been teased about being 'obsessed' with Jed Olsen, a well known journalist that often writes about this killer that has been named 'Ghostface.' While you're only interested in catching this killer and have never thought of yourself as obsessed, a certain killer going by the name Jed Olsen is.

TWs: gore, death, kidnapping, stalking, all that fun stuff. everything you should expect in a dead by daylight/scream fanfic

part 1. part 2.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Each key being pressed down fills the silence of your room, the bright screen illuminating the darkness that enveloped your home. Even though you were a journalist, and a decently well known one, you had never seen the reason for using one of your extra rooms for an office. It took too much money and you never knew when you'd need the guest room. Working in your own room was preferable anyway, despite all of the studies about one's room being one of the worst spaces to be a working space. You let out a sigh, momentarily lifting your hand to rub your exhausted eyes. You could never understand how Jed Olsen, that practically famous journalist, always got so many articles done. You admired him for that, and for his writing in general.

     Writing was your job, and you had to get something out soon, but sleeping and putting your writing aside seemed awfully tempting as your body fought more and more to take care of itself. In one quick action you forced your laptop screen down and stared at the empty pitch black of your surroundings. Sighing, you pick up the device and slowly saunter over to your desk to put it away. You fumble with the cord as you struggle to actually charge your computer, but end up completely dropping it despite your efforts at the sudden ringing of your phone.

     Grumbling especially angry words to yourself you walked over to the light of your phone, tripping over something that you had left on the ground at some point. Taking a moment to take a deep breath, you answer the phone and bring it your ear. There was no point in sharing your angry mood, even if it was 1:00 in the morning.

     "Hello? I'm sorry for the wait, I -"

     "Hello, is this y/n?"

     You pause, your breath the only thing heard for a few moments. You don't recognize the voice, and as far as you know there weren't any people from your job who needed you for anything.

     "Hello?"

     "Oh - yes, yes, this is y/n. I apologize, I'm - a little tired." 

     "Good, good. I'm uh - a big fan of your work. Your writing."

     Despite the considerably odd way of complimenting, you smile. You had never expected someone to call in the middle of the night just to compliment your writing, but there's a first for everything. 

     "Especially on that, uh, killer. . . Ghostface, was it? Yeah, he's interesting."

     "I guess you could call him that. or her, or them. I guess no one really knows, huh? I just want them caught, the thought of people constantly being killed just. . . bothers me, y'know? I wanna make a difference, especially when it comes to disgusting people like that. Who could even - kill? I'm sorry for rambling, I should probably let you go to bed. It's pretty late. I'm a little tired, too."

     "Exactly what I think. You know, you should turn on your light. I can't see you."

     You take a quick breath through your nose as your eyes scan the darkness around you. What did he say? It was silly trying to navigate your room in such a nervous state without being able to see, but you try nonetheless. Opening your door, you make your way to all of the windows in your home first, knowing the doors would be locked. The flashlight from your phone illuminates your path, the phone now put on speaker.

     "Where are you?" you inquire hesitantly. You weren't really sure if you wanted the answer, but talking to the person on the phone was the only thing keeping you from breaking down completely. First window, locked.

     "Why would I tell you that?" Clearly the other has dropped the innocent act, likely bored from playing along or ready to kill you any minute now. Both were equally as unnerving. Now that he was on speaker it constantly sounded as though he were right beside you every time he spoke. You regret your decision a little, but you have to check the house.

     "I don't know." You are surprised your blood hadn't froze in your veins considering how cold it turned. The window in your kitchen was unlocked and opened. He was in the house. Fumbling with your phone to try and not shatter it on the floor, you rush to turn on the light so you can finally take the intruder off of speaker mode and see. "Who are you?"

     "I think you know. You've been writing about me a lot lately."

     You pause for a moment until the realization smacks you in the face and calls you stupid. Ghostface. Ghostface is in your home right now, and you are likely going to be in an article written by Jed Olsen. Why'd it have to be in this circumstance? You are only going to be remembered as a victim of Ghostface. 'Oh, also they were a journalist, but that's not really important.'

     You quickly grab a knife from one of the drawers, the biggest one you own. Considering your arm looks as though it were a small child taking dance lessons for the first time, you aren't really sure if you'd be able to defend yourself properly. 

     “I'm going to call the cops and I'll get you arrested, do you hear me? Even if you kill me they'll realize I'm dead!" You spat, your venomous words simply a facade. 

     "I'll kill you before then. Don't waste their time."

     You let out a sob, half running half stumbling out of the kitchen in a panicked frenzy as you struggle to navigate your own home. The living room. You needed to be in the living room. That way if you needed to you could run to another room or outside, either one. Shakily holding the knife away from your trembling body you glance around, horrified breaths escaping your lungs rapidly. You were going to die in your own home, and you wouldn't even get payed for your next article you were working on. 

     A loud noise causes you to jump and harshly point the knife towards the source. The door. You almost hesitate, unsure of who was there, until you heard the sound of your neighbor calling your name. With a cry of relief you fumbled with the locks and quickly opened the door only to be met with a ghostly mask worn by a man holding a device. Upon seeing him click a button and hearing the sound of your neighbor calling your name again you turn in an attempt to run away, your feet tripping over themselves. You were too slow, however, and he had already predicted your attempt to escape. 

     You try to scream and fight back but find one hand on your mouth and the other around your arms, holding you in place. Regardless, you scream, kick, and throw your arms around the best you can. It does absolutely nothing. You can see his knife grasped in his hand holding your arms to your sides, a shine of light reflecting off of the cold metal. You were going to die, you were going to die, you -

     "Now, if you want to live, you'll go right to your room and open that laptop of yours, got it?" The killer demands as though you don't have a choice, and you really don't. Apparently deciding you aren't likely to scream for help at this point he slowly removes his hand from your face, switching the knife from his other hand to his newly free one. "If you don't, I'll kill you. Understand?"

     You don't think you've ever nodded so fast in your life. Apparently accepting your answer, Ghostface allows you to quickly walk to your room, staying close behind and not allowing you to go to any other destination. Of course he knew where your room was. As you made it to your room you flipped the light switch, barely reacting to the sudden absence of the dark. You had other things to worry about.

     As soon as you entered your room you heard a click. He had shut the door and was now standing right in front of it, not allowing you to leave even if you were dumb enough to try. You hadn't noticed before, but you were crying and your breathing was heavily uneven, filling the silence that tormented you. Rushing over to your laptop, you opened it, looking back at the killer in your room nervously as your gaze flicked between his mask and his knife.

     "Show me your newest article, the one you're working on. Do it for your number one fan." While you couldn't see his face, you could practically sense the smile pulling the corners of his lips upward. You nodded, your fear overwhelming you as you shakily pulled up the screen to your work in progress, placing the laptop on the bed close to the man before taking a few steps away. He chuckled, picked the laptop up, read possibly a few words, and set it back down. Though you had stopped crying, you definitely were in no way, shape, or form calm. You were absolutely terrified, and rightly so.

     "Why don't you finish it for me? I would kill to see what's in the mind of the greatest journalist of all time." He chuckled again, sitting down on your bed and motioning for you to sit next to him. You do, in fear of angering him, and place your laptop onto your lap. While you scroll down to find where you had left off you could hear his breathing directly next to your face as he leaned in to look closer. You couldn't imagine the vision was very good in that mask, but him being so close to you so casually made you undoubtedly nervous.

     With a deep breath you begin typing with shaky fingers, often pausing to try your best to collect your thoughts and put them onto the screen. It proved extremely difficult focusing when a famous murderer was right there, right next to you, reading every single letter you were writing as if it was the answer to life itself. After a while his presence became incredibly overwhelming and you struggled to think, your fingers hovered over various painted letters as you stare blankly at the bright light of the screen. The man must have caught onto your growing fear because he leaned back from your laptop and stared at you, his knife tapping against his knee as he stayed still, seemingly in thought or just observing you.

     You didn't think you could grow any more uncomfortable, but here you are. Eventually you stared down at your keyboard, giving up on the attempt to look at though you were busy. Your entire body shook, your eyes growing blurry once tears began to form once again. He was going to kill you now. You couldn't even think straight, all that had been going through your mind while writing was ways he could and would kill you. You messed up. You messed up. You messed up.

     Your thoughts were interrupted by a gloved hand carefully taking your jaw and adjusting your head so that you were staring right at the horrifying mask you had been hoping to avoid looking at. Your entire body shook as you glanced down at the knife held in his hands. You wanted to watch it to be ready for any attack, but you couldn't help but stare at the mask hiding the killer's face.

     "I won't kill you." he assures as though it would calm you down right then and there. "Not unless I have to, anyway." 

     Your breath hitches and your eyes immediately shut, blurry with fresh tears. You want to disappear, but unfortunately you can't. Trying to think about what the rest of your day had been like you wonder how it had even took this turn. If you had told yourself a few hours ago the most famous killer in your town was going to break into your home and request to read your work they would laugh in your face. You wouldn't blame them.

     The feeling of a leather glove wiping away the tears, new and old, on your face causes you to flinch and open your eyes once again. He was much closer than before, possibly just an inch away from your face. You hadn't even heard him shift forward while you were stuck in your thoughts. Shocked, you try to move back a little only for the Ghostface to wrap an arm around you and keep you close to him, grab the laptop from your lap and place it on his. By the way he was holding you next to him you could barely even move, only causing you to worry further. 

     He hadn't even attempted to hurt you once. Perhaps it was the mere fact that he had hurt, even killed, people before and likely never stressed over it. From what you have heard he even took pride in his 'work', taking pictures of victims and whatnot. You hoped he hadn't taken any pictures of you at some point. He must have stalked you for a while, a few weeks at the least, to know where everything in your house was. As far as you were aware he could've even been in your house before already! You didn't want to even take the chance of trusting him.

     He soon began typing, finishing the work for you instead of forcing you to do it. His knife sat beside him on the bed. Upon noticing you staring at it, he glances between you and the weapon and carefully moved it farther away from him in order to assure he had no plans on harming you anytime soon. The action almost made him seem more human, as if he weren't a murderer that broke into your home and threatened your life multiple times. He seemed almost unsure, nervous that you would suddenly panic and lash out again in an attempt to escape him.

     You stare at the screen absentmindedly for a moment before looking down at your lap and letting out a shaky breath. The killer's hand carefully pats the side of your head for just a moment before returning to its place around your torso, likely another awkward attempt to comfort you. For a killer, you noticed, he was incredibly awkward. When he wasn't ready to murder you at any moment, that is. Though you were absolutely nowhere close to relaxing, you couldn't help but feel more calm than you were before. Even so, you refuse to allow yourself to let your guard down. This was a killer, he can and will likely kill you without another thought. 

     You hadn't meant to, but at some point you had zoned out completely. The only thing taking you out of your thoughts was Ghostface's arm leaving you and him placing your laptop in your lap before retrieving his knife. He pointed the blade towards you, moving it around with small motions as he spoke.

     "I may not have killed you now, but I'll have no problem doing so if I find the cops at my door, got it?" he threatened, clearly waiting for an answer. Your fear returning, you nod and watch him leave your room, likely exiting your home from the same window he had entered. You didn't bother to follow him out. Instead you stared at the now finished article with tired and shocked eyes, barely hearing the sound of your kitchen window shutting.

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x you #danny johnson #danny johnson x you #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #dbd ghostface #dbd ghostface x reader #scream #scream movie #scream 1996 #scream 1 #scream 2 #scream 3 #scream 4 #scream 5 #dead by daylight #dead by daylight fanfic #dbd #dbd fanfic #fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #havocskies #horror #slashers #slasher x y/n

[synthy-sizer]

The next morning you slam the button on your alarm clock the second it starts to ring. You knew inside that you wouldn't really need it. The night was restless and you spent much of it with your eyes closed, just waiting for the alarm to go off. It's only natural. Today, after all, you find out once and for all what you've spent nearly a month planning for. You slept terribly, but the adrenaline pushes the tiredness back into the recesses of your mind. You quickly jump up from bed and start getting dressed. You also do a final check of your school bag's contents. Last night you emptied its contents of school supplies and instead borrowed a flashlight, some food, and very carefully and sneakily, a pocket knife. You have no way of knowing what's down there, after all. You're lucky that no one will suspect a thing if you disappear on the weekends. Carefully, you make your way downstairs and out the door, closing the front door behind you as quietly as you can, and then run to the truck and dig around under the tarp. To your great relief, it's still there, just like how you left it. Then, you slide it into your bag, so as not to be suspected. People trust you, but you are also a young girl walking around with bolt cutters. There's too many questions and not enough answers in that situation. With your supplies in hand and covertly hidden, you confidently walk down the gravel path.

You have plenty of time to think on your walk. Over and over again, you've been taught to listen to adults and fall in line. And you have. You've felt fulfilled, too. It feels good to be praised for being good. But ever since the moment you saw the door in the woods and….whatever it was, that led you there, you've felt an overwhelming urge to rebel. For the first time ever you've started to wonder about what would happen if you fell out of line. Despite your determination you feel as though it could all fall apart in an instant, and what would happen to you doesn't bear thinking about. You're scared. You have been for at least a month now. All the while you've been sneaking off, stealing, and exploiting the trust your parents and community have in you to do no wrong. It feels sickening. But at the same time, everything has felt so wrong ever since then, too. You didn't even realize it, but you've become discontent and distrustful of the community since that day. But why now? If things are so wrong, then why had you never noticed before? It's impossible to go back now, to being content with your former existence. It feels as though you're just pretending to be yourself now. The door is your only option now. You need to know what's inside, not just because you're curious, but because you can't stand existing without knowing what's inside, as if you're unlocking a missing piece of yourself.

Finally, you reach the woods. You stop for a moment in the middle of the path and face the trees. You scan the treeline but don't see anything but more woods. What were you hoping for? You walk determined into the woods, this time not with nervous curiosity, but with determination. Eventually you come face to face with the thing that has caused you so much anguish; the hatch.

You step forward and pull the bolt cutters from your bag, holding the blades open around the lock. Then, you close your eyes and snap them shut as hard as you possibly can.

Snap!

You open your eyes and your heart pounds as you stare down at something that you've both been excited and scared to see. The lock is completely shattered. You quickly get down on your knees and toss the lock to the side, and then remove the bar that has barred your entry for months.

And finally, you swing the door open.

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[riseofthecommonwoodpile]

I'm going to indulge myself for a moment and talk about why I've come to adore solo Craig Finn, especially the Faith in the Future / We All Want The Same Things / I Need A New War trilogy.

If The Hold Steady is all tragic and beautiful young people making their way through druggy parties and high drama, solo Finn is those people after the parties are over, 10, 20, 30 years later. Sometimes they're ok, sometimes they're not, though pretty much always it's a bit of both, of what it feels like to settle into a life that never became what you wanted it to be. It's all strip malls and shitty apartments, drug habits that stopped being glamorous a while ago, money problems that would be high stakes if they weren't so tediously, gratingly normal. The first time your electricity gets shut off, it tightens up your chest with shame and panic. The fifth time it does, you grab a flashlight and lean it against the wall so you can see when you take a shower.

"Magic Marker"'s narrator has been in bad enough situations for long enough that he mentions in passing things another songwriter would make a whole album out of. He fought in the first Gulf War; he did some probably not legal things and ended up with a pistol to his face in Portland for his troubles; he works at his Uncle's hardware store, and has trouble making change. Big things, small things, bar lights and cigarette-burned couches hanging around in your brain while you sit in your car and watch the sunset by the lake that ripples in the gap between two suburbs. It's a jagged story richly remembered by a guy who often isn't sure what to say or how to say it. He circumnavigates his way around the feeling because it comes before the words, comes without the words, and each attempt always seems to leave something important out.

And there would be so many ways to make that story and that feeling— this image of a midwestern self, run down but still running— oversized, didactic, moralistic, dramatic. Make that person into a symbol for something else, make his struggles mean something, maybe wallow in his pain if you've got the stomach for it. What's harder is to let that story sit there unresolved, to let it feel like what it would feel like to have lived it. There is no grand narrative or plan, there's no lesson to sum it all up, no instruction or glorification, no condemnation, no ruin. Here's how Finn ends it:

I'm still working at my uncle's place. Still driving round in darkness, but I'm mostly staying straight. There's pretty girls down at Independence Lake, but they don't seem to see me anymore.

I'm better with my numbers now. Parked down by the water. Stretching out the truth, trying to seem a little softer. I still roll around with my magic marker. Some nights it just feels good to write your name.

There's some victory in staying straight (mostly), in being better with your numbers, being able to make change at your uncle's store yourself. There's some sadness driving around in darkness, girls passing you by, having to massage the truth to make it seem a bit less bad when you tell it to someone. And there's a feeling I can't name but can touch as solidly as the skin on my arms about how some nights, it just feels good to write your name. You remember. You stop yourself from forgetting. Maybe someone else thinks of you when they see it, or thinks of the fact that you're not there to match up with those letters.

It's easy to read Finn's characters— his burnouts, also-rans, disappointments, fuckups, middle aged middle managers, last-call barflies, forever-renters, couch surfers, all the people whose lives didn't turn out like they planned them— as desperate losers, as heroes and victims of a particularly pathetic American capitalism, as something grand or mythic in how and why they struggle, and it's to Finn's credit that he doesn't. After enough years of barely scraping by, rock bottom loses its novelty and becomes just a place you've visited before, might visit again, might currently be renting an apartment in. His characters’ lives are worth documenting because they simply are, and not for the utility they might have in a metaphor or an allegory, for their thematic resonance. It's dad rock for people who know what it's like to be on food stamps, to sell something you care about to make rent or buy booze. Sometimes, it just feels good to write your name.

[nomoreusername]

Nightmares

No Tw. Just Pure bittersweet fluff. I do take requests.

(P.S, If you see a one-shot following the exact same story line from IDareYouToRead in Wattpad we are the same person. I just need more people to appreciate him)

I've never liked being alone at night. It made me think of too many things I'd rather forget. During the day I could keep my mind distracted with work or just helping out. I could talk to people about random topics and push down all the things that threaten to come spilling out..I don't have to think about how much I've lost.

Then the night falls and I'm not allowed to push it down anymore. I'm forced to think about the light leaving their eyes and all those kids I'd left behind. I just lie there and wait for the dreams about them to come. Those nightmares.

I can't shut my eyes without seeing WICKED's doctors standing over me with those needles of unknown but deadly substance. Their was an indescribable look in their eye, like deep down they knew it was wrong but convinced themselves it really was for the best. To them seeing us die if not outside than mentally, was worth it in the end.

I heard something snap and sat straight up to see what was out there. Instant regret filled me when a dark figure was standing there. I laid back down and tried to stop shaking so it wouldn't know I was awake. I can't have it come near my friends.

Unfortunately, it was too late as a hand touched my shoulder. Today I was going to die and there was nothing I could do without killing the others. I have to accept that it's my time to leave.

The figure had enough strength to turn my body towards it, or maybe I was done with this world. I kept my eyes shut so it wouldn't be the last thing I'd have to see. Its breath was heavy. It wrapped its hands around my neck slowly. I wasn't just going to die tonight. I was going to die in pure agony.

"Please,"I sputtered out. I don't know if I was begging for it to kill me now or spare my life. It ignored my words and started squeezing hard enough to draw blood.nI felt tears run down my face as the oxygen left my body. Then, I shot up in a cold sweat.

"It was just a dream,"I muttered to myself. I couldn't even remember my dream. All I remember is the feeling of hopelessness.

That was a common feeling now.It refused to leave. Even in the Safe Haven I would never be truly free. None of us could even if they wouldn't say it. No matter how far we ran out past would forever haunt us.

Not being able to recall the nightmares but remembering the feeling felt worse than having it engraved in my mind.

I looked around and saw everyone around me was sleeping. Some looked peaceful, almost happy. Others were shaking and murmuring pleas for help like I imagine I was. I needed to stop thinking about this. Thinking only brings back the flashbacks, and those come with more pain. I needed to clear my head.

I wrapped my blanket around me and grabbed my flashlight. I shuddered as I felt my bare feet touch the ground and the wind nip at my face. I tucked my blanket closer to me and maneuvered around everyone to get outside.

I turned around my flashlight and when I was close enough it illuminated someone I knew all too well. He was out here almost every night with me. He was the one person I was able to talk to about how dark my mind was. Aris didn't turn around at the light. He already knew who it was. He's told me he knows it's me by my footsteps. I took a seat next to him, and we sat in silence.

He started shivering and I held out the blanket so he could have his part.nHe did so and wrapped part of it around his shoulder before draping the rest around me. I moved closer and put my head on his shoulder.

"Aris,"I whispered so quietly I was worried I wouldn't hear me. I was wrong though as he looked at me. Even in the dark I could see the face I loved.

"Nightmares?"He asked. I felt another tear run down my face. "I don't even remember them anymore. I just remember how I feel in them. I just know I'm scared."

"I don't remember mine either. I don't think I want to."

I grabbed his hand and felt him trace shapes into my palm. I moved my head to his chest and tried to only think about him holding me.

"Get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up,"He promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I know Aris. You're always here,"I muttered.

"And I always will be."

We both knew that might not be true, but right now he's not only here, but he's holding me. For now, that's more than enough.

#aris jones #tmr aris #one shoulder

[nicklloydnow]

"Two Modern Noh Plays" by Yukio Mishima presented by Midtwenties Theater Society & 2019 Vancouver Fringe Festival

“POET: Listen to me. . . . I am just what I seem, a threepenny poet, without even a woman who'll look at me. But there's something I respect-the world as reflected in the eyes of young people who love each other, a hundred times more beautiful than what they actually see—that I respect. Look, they're not the least aware we're talking about them. They've climbed up high as the stars. You can see the glint of starlight under their eyes, next to the cheeks. . . . And this bench, this bench is a kind of ladder mounting to heaven, the highest lookout tower in the world, a glorious observation point. When a man sits here with his sweetheart he can see the lights of the cities halfway across the globe. But if (climbs on the bench) I stand here all by myself, I can't see a thing. . . . Oh, I do see something—lots of benches, somebody waving a flashlight—must be a policeman. A bonfire. Beggars crouching around the fire. The headlights of a car. They've passed each other now and are heading toward the tennis courts. What was that? A car full of flowers. Performers returning from a concert? Or a funeral procession? (He gets down from the bench and sits.) That's all I can see.

OLD WOMAN: What rubbish. Why in the world do you respect such things? It's that same silly nature of yours which makes you write sentimental poems that nobody will buy.

POET: And that's exactly why I never invade this bench. As long as you and I are occupying it, the bench is just so many dreary slats of wood, but if they sit here it can become a memory. It can become softer than a sofa, and warm with the sparks thrown off by living people. . . . When you sit here it becomes cold as a grave, like a bench put together out of slabs of tombstones. I can't bear that.

OLD WOMAN: You're young and inexperienced, you still haven't the eyes to see things. You say the benches where they sit, those snotty-faced shop clerks with their whores, are alive? Don't be silly. They're petting on their graves. Look, how deathly pale their faces look in the greenish street light that comes through the leaves. Their eyes are shut, the men and women both. Don't they look like corpses? They're dying as they make love. (Sniffs around her.) There's a smell of flowers, all right. The flowers in the park are very fragrant at night, just like those inside a coffin. Those lovers are all buried in the smell of the flowers, like so many dead men. You and I are the only live ones.

POET: (Laughs.) What a joke! You think you're more alive than they are?

OLD WOMAN: Of course I do. I'm ninety-nine years old, and look how healthy I am.

POET: Ninety-nine?

OLD WOMAN: (turning her face into the light) Take a good look.”

“OLD WOMAN: I know what the face looks like of someone who's come back to life—I've seen it often enough. It wears an expression of horrible boredom, and that expression is what I like. . . . Long ago, when I was young, I never had the sensation of being alive unless my head was all awhirl. I only felt I was living when I forgot myself completely. Since then I have realized my mistake. When the world seems wonderful to live in, and the meanest little flower looks big as a dome, and flying doves sing as they go by with human voices . . . when, I mean, everyone in the whole world says "Good morning" joyously to everyone else, and things you've been searching for ten years turn up in the back of a cupboard, and every girl looks like an empress . . . when you feel as if roses are blooming on the dead rose trees, then—idiotic things like that happened to me once every ten days when I was young, but now when I think of it, I realize I was dying as it happened. . . . The worse the liquor, the quicker you get drunk. In the midst of my drunkenness, in the midst of those sentimental feelings and my tears, I was dying. . . . Since then, I've made it a rule not to drink. That's the secret of my long life.

РОЕТ: (teasing her) Oh! And tell me, old lady, what is your reason for living?

OLD WOMAN: My reason? Don't be ridiculous! Isn't the very fact of existing a reason in itself? I'm not a horse that runs because it wants a carrot. Horses, anyway, run because that's the way they're made.”

- Yukio Mishima, ‘Sotoba Komachi’ (1956)

#mishima #yukio mishima #sotoba komachi #noh plays #Midtwenties Theater Society #Vancouver Fringe Festival

[pepperandgarlicsalt]

Need some cat advice!!! Also, I am descriptive as hell. Sorry for the novel, I over-explain.

I have 2 cats. Both female, both currently unfixed (appointments are being made, they just haven't yet because life got in the way, but it is high priority now) and a bit less than a year old. I also live in an apartment.

There is a hole in my cupboards that leads to outside. Early on after getting my first cat, she found it and got outside (I didn't yet know the hole was there, so it wasn't covered at the time or anything) and I found her in a space under the building that is too small for a person to get into. Luckily, the second she heard me she came to me so I could put her back inside. I covered the hole on my own, put cabinet locks on the two out of three cupboards that they fit on, and shoved a box in front of the last one to barricade it a bit. I also emailed the apartment to ask about maintenance coming in and properly doing something about the huge hole in my unit that leads outside that my cat likes to go through.

It took them a few months to actually come in and look at it, and in that time she found another way to get in the cupboards and go out again. She was in the same spot, came right to me when I went to get her, I found the new spot and blocked that off as well.

Last month, the maintenance man finally came in and looked at the hole. All they did was put a few pieces of masking tape over it and they didn't even cover all of the ways to get into the hole. I even told them that the tape looked flimsy as hell and a cat could break through it, they didn't care at all. But whatever, I guess. I had locks and little barricades and all of the things that I did myself.

I came home from work a few days ago and all of the boxes were moved FAR and the tape was shredded. She got out again, obviously. I'm surprised (but SUPER glad) my other cat didn't follow her, she was just chilling happy as a clam on my bed. I went out to where she usually goes because I assumed she'd hop right back up to me when I walked up like she had before. Nope!! Not at all!! I think she is in there, but I can't tell. It's a little crawlspace that people can't fit in at all, so it goes back far and is very dark. She could totally be hiding. I had a friend come over to check it out because (while I adore my cat and would shove my arm in the crawlspace for her in an instant) I'm a bit spooked by dark spaces like that and I trusted friend to be the type of person to shove his entire face into the creepy, spidery hole. He said that he definitely heard a meow in there but he couldn't really see without a good flashlight and all he had was his phone. It's also getting to be spring and I've seen a lot of strays out, so I am hoping that the meow was my kitty but that isn't confirmed. Also, since it's warming up a bit (and based on her behavior before she got out and the fact that she moved heavy boxes and shredded layers of tape to get out) she's most likely in heat.

I just don't know how to get her back out since she isn't coming over to me. My friend said that if kitty is in heat then I might need to give her a few days before I even see her and not to worry too much until it's been a little while. I put a blanket that she sleeps on every night on my outside chair just in case she comes out of the hole on her own and needs to smell out home. I also put a dish of food out, which I know I maybe shouldn't have because of how many strays I've seen but I put it directly in front of the hole. I had to run to the store but was planning to come back to the dish every so often to see if I could catch her sneaking out to eat and by the time I was back it was already empty.

I already know that when I do get her back I'll need to set up a vet appointment IMMEDIATELY to get her checked for pregnancy and just in general from being outside, then I'm getting her spayed the first available appointment they have for it. I'm also going to get my cupboards COVERED as much as I possibly can. Which isn't too much, the apartment I live in is shit, they don't seem to care to fix things correctly and I hear they hit people HARD with any damage costs and such so it's hard to take matters into your own hands on anything here. But I'll risk some potential future damage costs, the cupboard that I can't get a lock to work with might end up duct taped to hell and still barricaded. All I'm really stumped on is getting her out, or at least knowing that she's okay down there. I'd feel so much better if I saw her but wasn't able to catch her in time, to see that she CAN come out if she wants to but she just doesn't.

#cats #cat advice #catblr #petblr #pets #pet advice #help

[dzpenumbra]

8/11/23

I am a gigantic ball of emotions today. Mostly depression, but a lot of bubbling emotions... like fear and anger and sorrow.

Needless to say, it's been a difficult day. I am also exhausted from it, so I'm doing this "early" at 10:30PM so I can try to get to bed early. But given that the majority of my anger has been focused towards the stomping and creaking coming from upstairs, that has been going on ALL FUCKING DAY... I may not even be able to get to sleep early. I can't even put into words how many times I've been just on the edge of being relaxed or about to fall asleep, and then I hear what my brainstem interprets as the equivalent of a stick snapping behind me in the woods and my heart fucking jumps. If I told my doctor half of the stress and shit I endure daily, he would not be remotely surprised why I have high blood pressure. It makes me worry for my health.

So... that's opening scope here for the primary topic of the day. Panic responses, and trauma responses. So... there's the commonly known Fight... seems like a lot of people like that one. Responding to a reflex brainstem fear signal with anger, conflict, aggression. Being surprised and scared that someone cut you off in traffic, and responding by screaming and flipping them off and hitting shit. There's Flight... which is running away, and I would absolutely include avoidance with that. Though avoidance is typically anticipatory, rather than reactive... I'm kinda talking more about in-the-moment reactions now. Flight is when I bend down to offer an apple to a wild rabbit in the woods and it just goes "nope" and fucking bolts out of there. And the third well known one is... Freeze. That would be the classic deer-in-the-headlights, like getting on stage and forgetting your lines and feeling completely paralyzed in place.

These are very rudimentary brain functions rooted in the brainstem, which can... override higher brain functions. So you can, in that moment, try to send a signal from your brain to those muscles and try to move them, and your own self-protective mechanisms from a different center of your own brain will prevent you. That's my understanding and experience, at least. I've witnessed and experienced this first-hand with skateboarding. I'm sure you've experienced at least Freeze in your life. A good analogy would be getting up on a big high-dive or a bungee jump and trying to make yourself jump off. There is a survival force within you that roots you in fucking place. And you need to find out how to bypass that force in order to make yourself jump. I remember doing a zip-line on a high ropes course, that was probably the strongest I've felt this force in my life. Fight... maybe if you're deeply afraid of spiders and someone tries to put one on your back or something? And you scream and flail and get violent without even thinking? And Flight... my most vivid memory was when me and my college friend were drunk coming home from a party in the city early in the morning and the cops rolled up on us and he fucking booked it like a gunshot went off, in a split second he was up and over an iron-wrought fence into a graveyard. I've never seen anyone climb like that, that was pure instinct. My version was smoking weed behind an old abandoned bowling alley and the cops rolled up on us... we all split up and sprinted out of there into the woods in the middle of the night with no flashlights. And I hid on the ground and put leaves over me at first... then booked it into the woods and kept clawing my way through the thicket, knowing that the woods I was in would eventually dump out into the street, it would just be a hell of a climb to get there. And after about 5 minutes of clambering through thickets, I realized... I wasn't on the ground anymore... I was definitely suspended in some kind of big bush or tree. I literally couldn't even see, I just kept blindly climbing and climbing. And I ended up making it to the street, covered in mud, bloody from thorns and branches. And I ran and hid behind a dumpster at the pizza place I used to work at and called my friend, and he was like "hey... where did you go? We all went a different way. We were wondering where you went." That fucking instinct took over and I wasn't gonna stop until I knew I was safe. It felt life or death.

But there's one lesser known panic/trauma response that I had always heard about... but I didn't really know much about. I do suffer from all of these responses, I think we all do to one degree or another. I have been making tremendous strides in dealing with Fight, and Flight has been kept in much better moderation. Freeze, I still struggle with a bit. But the last one has been... much less obvious to me... and I had a gigantic spotlight shone on it today - Fawn.

Fawning is... making people happy. I clumsily compared it to someone putting their head in a lion's mouth today, because that's kinda... what it feels like? Or like... what I'm afraid I'm doing? I'll explain more in a bit. It's a compulsion to give and give and keep the other person happy and sacrifice your needs (what needs?) and sacrifice your boundaries... to keep them happy and keep yourself safe. This is probably not the best way of describing it, I can absolutely give real world examples though, I've got them in spades.

See... I've gotten in this really weird place now. Now that I'm aware of what fawning is - a learned behavior of people-pleasing used in an attempt to... lessen abuse either to myself or others - I'm aware that I react that way... a lot. And I've confused it with my personality. I've confused it with being nice, being polite, being respectful, being a good guy. To the point where I struggle to tell apart fawning and confidence. And this works out really fucking well for people who love being the center of attention, or being pampered, or taking advantage of people, or manipulating people, or pushing people around. When that part of my brain gets activated - which is a response to a perceived threat of abuse situation, let's not forget, and my body 100% believes those are the stakes - I turn into the nicest guy you've ever met. I will literally give you the shirt off my back and the keys to my house. ... You can see why that might pose a problem?

This whole time I've been acting like I'm afraid of someone mugging me... when the most likely threat to my home security would be me going into panic mode and compulsively trying to give my keys to someone I met on the street and say "yeah, sure, stay at my house whenever you want." (That's a little bit of an exaggeration, but honestly... it's not that much of a stretch).

Now that I've covered what fawning is, and how it works... Let me tell a quick story. When I met my ex, I was very direct about wanting to try a friends-with-benefits situation. I was a very different person in that stage of life, intentionally. I have always been a deeply sentimental romantic, and I wanted to try an experimental phase to see if that kind of relationship would actually work for me. I have theories that my emotions being heavily suppressed by benzos and antidepressants played into that as well, lessening the emotional guilt or... awkwardness? Weirdness? I don't what to call that. God, all of this feels like a lifetime ago, it's so strange... Anyway, we agreed on that. It was my way of staving off my bitter loneliness, without having to commit to a relationship with someone I wasn't really very attracted to... to be blunt... and an opportunity to explore my sexuality, which frankly just never happened at any point until my late 20's. Shortly after this agreement, this girl moved half a continent to be within a 40 minute drive of me, but "just because she liked the area".

I tried to get my life together, I started tapering off of the benzos and within a few weeks... I was asking her to be in a relationship with me. Despite us fighting, despite her really not being very supportive of me with my detox. I did it because I felt bad. And I was really lonely and scared. And I didn't want to upset her, and kinda felt the pressure from her moving all the way out here. And honestly, in the end? Getting in a relationship for those reasons... was really not a kind thing to do. And I've learned from that.

We did have a lot of good times, please don't get me wrong. She really was a good friend... sometimes. And I grew tremendously in the time we spent together, I learned so many things about myself and others and overcame a lot of lifelong personal demons. Unfortunately, it was insanely unhealthy.

You know, now that I think about it... okay... I've never really been able to figure this one out. Try this on for size. So... I'd have a fight with her. Okay, let me just start that over to be a little more fair to myself... XD Rewind... So, I'd just bring up a random thing that made her insecure, right? Like... the gold standard example of this was the time we were playing Starcraft co-op vs AI Monobattles and she got Archons and I got something else like Roaches or something, I don't even remember. And we were struggling in the game a lot, and I couldn't carry because of the monobattle unit limitations. So the game dragged out for like an hour. And she was really demoralized and not talking at all. And after the game, I did what I always do (because I've been playing games forever) and I sorta debriefed to see what we learned that match. And I asked her about upgrades, because I noticed in the late-game that she had just not gotten higher upgrades, which are essential at that stage. And she just flipped out, as though I accused her of doing something wrong. Accuse, accusation, that word is very deliberate, it was treated like I was pointing a shaming finger at her and yelling, which I absolutely did not. And, honestly, this was probably an unmanaged trauma response of hers. But what I'm setting this story up for is... that fight? Which was me trying to make sense of what the fuck was going on, why she was upset, why we were fighting... at all... and trying to resolve the dissonance between us so we could share a bed together at the end of the night... That fight went on for at least 6 hours. With me going outside to smoke cigarettes being the only breaks. And that length of conflict was common. The longest fight we had was just over 11 hours straight. We didn't even stop for meals.

I don't know a single fucking person who can say they were in a fight for 6 hours. Or who can even process the concept of being in a fight for 11 hours straight. And now that I'm really diving into this... That wasn't Fight at all. That was someone fighting me. I was rarely ever fighting at all. My primary goal at all times was peace. I don't think that was Freeze, I was very active in that situation. I was very capable of leaving the situation, though I just... didn't. There were some rare times that I actually did. But I see Freeze as more... not being able to interact, and I could articulate my perspective clear as day, despite it going unheard. I wasn't sitting there catatonic for 6 hours, I was trying to find a middle ground. It definitely wasn't Flight, that's pretty obvious. So... why the fuck else would I stay in that situation? Why wouldn't I just walk the fuck away and go "I really don't deserve to be treated this way"? Or "she can talk to me when she's ready to hear me out"? Because I want to be a "good guy".

Welcome to the mindset of that person. "Can I trust them to come back?" "I don't want to lose them without trying." "It's my job to give everything I have to make this right. It's my duty."

In a way... it kinda felt narcissistic, in the years since then reflecting on it. As though the outcome of that situation hinged on my actions. It's weird how depression/trauma can manifest dogshit self-esteem like that... how blaming and holding yourself accountable for literally everything... including the actions of others... is really just making it about yourself. But in a super not positive way. But hey, if you're to blame... that means you're responsible... that means... you can do something. That means... you're not powerless. You have agency. And for a victim? That's worth more than gold.

So here's the big unlock of the day. That I'm still chewing on and trying to figure out how to make sense of. I was right there, and I got most of the way, my awesome therapist helped connect the dots. I have a lot of anticipatory anxiety. I'm trying to find the best way to phrase this, I had difficulty earlier too. I'm not as much anxious about the situation itself, but anxious about... how I'm going to act? That I'm going to blind myself to warning signs, to red-flags. That I'm going to do the thing where I know I'm not attracted to my ex, and I know a relationship with her is a really bad idea, but I feel really pressured and guilty and I don't want to upset her and... hey, maybe we can make it work?

I often feel like a grown child. I really do. A very intelligent, wise, well-read, articulate child. I feel vulnerable, naïve and easy to manipulate. And I'm honestly probably not, probably not nearly as much as I think I am. But I feel that way. And that's enough for the panic brain to kick in. And... since time immemorable... predatory people have swarmed me like flies to shit. Not exclusively, but a fucking lot. Most, honestly, in retrospect. So... I'm fearing both that I'm very vulnerable and inexperienced and starry-eyed... and that I'm just going to shove my head right into the jaws of a lion. Completely unaware. Like I have been time and time again. And the trauma flashbacks from that fear... they make the fear responses worse. And the anticipation worse.

And there's also the retrospective anxiety too. Going over an experience like meeting that woman yesterday 10,000x and scanning for red flags and analyzing my behavior and all that. Good lord, this is all so goddamn exhausting.

No wonder I want to avoid all of this. It's so much. When, on the other hand, I can just sit here and polish beads and listen to Elden Ring lore analysis all day. And not worry about whether someone is just trying to use me as a free therapist, and dump their shit on me, when I'm going skating to get out of my head, not to get into someone else's. And then I have to do the last thing I ever want to do - be "rude" and set boundaries. "Sorry, I would love to hear about your ex-boyfriend who's not really a boyfriend but more of a friend and he's really insensitive and manipulative and obsessed with money and lies to you a lot and is a deadbeat father of 6 but like... he doesn't mean it, he's just confused and... but I really want to skate before it gets dark, because like... this is a skatepark. And I came here to skate." I don't want to be "an asshole". I don't want to "hurt peoples' feelings". And my fawning ass will just stand there being eaten alive by a swarm of mosquitos watching the sunlight fade when I could be skating... because I'm too scared to upset this woman who is being "so generous to offer me the time of day to interact with me".

Look, revisiting that. She was nice. She did ask me some questions about myself. But she did spend nearly the entire time just talking about herself and her problems... while I was at a skatepark obviously skating. And she tried to talk me out of trying a new trick... ain't no fucking skater in that park gonna talk me out of trying a boardslide on the round rail, they're going to encourage me. Someone please tell me that's a red flag.

I did end the conversation with quite a mic drop yesterday though. She said at the very end of the conversation that she felt bad she was talking the whole time, I said I love to hear stories and I have plenty of stories of my own. And she said she would be interested in hearing some sometime... and I said... "all you have to do is ask." And... I guess that's a tiny tiny bit passive aggressive, like... it's a not so subtle hint that like... if you want to know about someone... it helps to... show an interest in them? Not just talk about yourself the whole time. So, kind of a guiding hand, a subtle instruction manual on how to make the next interaction a bit more functional for both of us, if she's interested. Or like... maybe have a bit more of an interest in skating... when we're at a skatepark... idk.

So yeah, I just have this gut instinct that... might not be the best situation? We really don't have anything in common. Very different worlds. We're just both... people who give a little too much to people who tend to take advantage of that. And I didn't take advantage of that... and I'm afraid that will make her feel like she's falling for me. When really... it's just the unfamiliar feeling of... safety. And trust me, I can relate to that. But I'm just... I have my own demons right now. And they are screaming and howling in my head. Especially with my "former friend" reopening a lot of traumatic wounds, and having to explain that my fucking parents pay my rent and shit. I'm super sensitive and I have PTSD, and I need to pace myself, so... she's gonna have to understand that.

So yeah, I feel like I got a much broader understanding of my trauma responses today, or at least opened the gates on it. But I don't have a fucking clue what to do. I just feel like... I'm in so deep at this point. I'm afraid I'm just... never going to feel safe around people again. I'm afraid that I'm always going to jump at floorboard creaks as though I'm hearing an animal snap a twig behind me at night, and have my heart race to my throat and surge adrenaline through my system. I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to recognize the difference between a genuinely friendly person... and a wolf in sheep's clothing. Not due to lack of intelligence, but due to trauma responses overriding my judgement and forcing this "cool, confident, nicest, most polite and generous guy in the world" persona. Which is genuine, in that I will absolutely act on it. But it's... ugh... how do I put this.

I should give my time and --- I'm hitting inner conflict, and it's with my spiritual side. Part of me is saying "be loving and forgiving and kind and generous to everyone, breathe love out into the world". And the other part goes "even that guy who's asking for my PIN number?"

It's one thing to love someone who has earned that love - like a good friend or a good family member. It's a bit harder to love a stranger from a distance, but it's possible. It's even harder to love a stranger to their face, but it's possible. It's near impossible to love a stranger who is taking your wallet from your pocket. But I am here to tell you, it's possible. And... if you're like me? It can be compulsive. And... I don't know how to practice not doing that. And my spiritual side is whispering... "why are you unlearning how to love unconditionally?"

So... I'm a bit unsure whether this is a therapy dilemma or a spiritual dilemma, so I really don't know where to go to address it. I'm just so tired of living this way. -_- I'm so tired of being scared to say "no" to people. I feel like a fucking coward. I have been promising myself all day I was going to be kinder to myself and not say shit like that, but I just need to get the thoughts out of my head. I feel like a coward. I feel timid and frail. If gods were the embodiment of concepts, like love or war or wisdom... and they are paid tribute by being kept in mind and channeled through your method of addressing life... if that is worship... Then my life is just a giant temple to the god of Fear. I'm scared of going out, because I'm scared of meeting new people and then being scared of saying no when they cross a boundary with me, or scared I won't be able to walk away without them getting hostile with me. Scared, scared, scared.

But the real bitch here. This isn't just run-of-the-mill anxiety. These fears have been validated by repeated empirical evidence - trauma. They have logic chains, they have memories attached, the offending characters have faces and names. So... and I'm really not even kidding here... interrupting this woman to say "I need to go, it's getting dark out and skating when its dark is super dangerous" feels like trying to get myself to pick up a cooking pot that I know for a fact just came off the stove and is scalding hot. That is what I'm going up against.

How do I practice that when I'm in isolation? When I have no friends, no family, no social contact outside of my therapist? I don't know. Roleplay, maybe? Maybe just... make a character that's super rude... and then dial back my real-life experiences? I dunno.

I'm just kinda... okay. I've been looking at career shit today. I started to look up Masters programs. I'm thinking of applying for scholarships and seeing if I can get into a college walking distance away and work there to make some cash while I'm not in class and just... do fucking something with my life. I don't know. I can't teach without a Masters degree. If I go back to school, I could really apply myself to trying to meet people this time. Faculty. Really try to build personal connections and transition into a career outside of college. I was really thinking... Ancient Art History would be fucking perfect. It covers so many things I love - archaeology, art, world history, spirituality. All lumped into one. But the college near me doesn't offer that, not a Masters. So... I could try a second BA... but then I can't teach... And honestly... I don't even know if I want to teach! I mean... can I really go from being in extreme isolation for 4 years to... standing in front of a class of like 100 students talking about Gobekli Tepe for an hour? ... Maybe?

I just feel... very behind. And like I just... wasted my life. I don't believe that. I look at the art and music and writing I've made over the years and I still am in awe that I actually made that. That was born from me. I brought that into the world. Blows my mind. I don't feel like anyone else in the world cares. Fucking at all. Not more that 10 seconds of their attention - "wow, you did that! No way! That's crazy..." And then they're on to the next thing. Meanwhile, that was 3 months of my life, all day every day. And don't even start me on how to get my fucking rent paid doing this shit.

So... yeah. I just don't know. I don't know how to make this work, and I've been really feeling super lost and depressed because of it. Existential crisis, kinda. Not as bad as others in the past, but it's not fun.

I'm gonna wrap this up by saying... you know when you're writing one of these in a browser and it ghosts out the homepage behind the post you're writing, but there's a post that pops up in the "Radar" section to the right? It's been staring me in the face this whole post. It's a drawing of a guy sitting in a windowsill, holding his knees to his chest, looking out the window with an expression I can't make out (it ain't happy), while rain is streaking down the window. It's oddly appropriate, since it's been raining all evening.

This is a moment. And it won't last forever. I just made a really cool deer drawing the other day, in permanent ink on one of my favorite pairs of pants. I hand-polished 26/88 beads. I've made tremendous strides of self-awareness and growth of my mental health and my spirit. I am very skilled, I am very smart, and I am very sensitive - I have been all my life. These are all gifts and curses. This storm will also pass. In the meantime, I need to make sure that I am being gentle with myself, because the cards I'm playing with are hard enough as-is... I don't need to make it more difficult by turning on myself.

Wish me luck getting to bed early, I still hear footsteps from upstairs. Fingers crossed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness #ptsd

[shamelesshussythoughts]

I am so tired.

I'm so tired of trying.

I asked CD when to know when it's time to just throw your hands up and quit. His well thought out and intentioned advice was when you've tried everything and nothing has worked. Problem is, I am SO FUCKING TIRED of trying. I also, don't ever know when to quit.

I'm just so exhausted from it all.

Is it too much to ask to be loved or cared for by someone?

I'm watching all my friends who have been through the shits and they're getting married, dating, having kids with their new partners, they're all SO FUCKING HAPPY. They all are finally coming out the other side and I'm still lost in the middle without a flashlight.

I'm happy for everyone. JL is having a spooky little Halloween baby with her boyfriend, CD met someone, other people on my feeds are getting married and engaged, they're going places and taking pictures with these genuinely happy faces, arms linked, kissing, laughing, having the time of their lives with someone who cares. I know what I see isn't the whole story. But what I see is what I want, even if there are squabbles and obstacles behind the scenes, at least they all like each other.

I am just so tired of trying.

Twice in less than a month I have ended up with migraines so bad I've been nauseous. The first was a week or two ago. I had to leave work early and it was the most terrifying drive of my life. Every time I moved my eyes I wanted to vomit, every time I blinked I was afraid my body would decide it was time to nap and I'd doze off. I didn't know what was wrong at first, I've never had a migraine that bad. I picked up headache medicine and tums on my break and they didn't help. I was dry heaving off and on the rest of the afternoon until I finally was able to leave.

Yesterday I felt the tension headache coming on but I made it through the day somehow. By the time I got home I was nauseous, feverish, and in so much pain. Some time after 5:00 when I had dry heaved as much as I could I was able to finally drift off until about 7:00 when I finally felt a little more human.

The stress of this marriage is affecting my physical health now. I cannot and will not live like that. I have to protect myself and my health. I still have a tight neck and lingering head pain. It felt like I was being kicked in the forehead yesterday. Today it's more an occasional rap on the top of my skull.

I'm so tired of the half assed, apologetic lies I get. All the bullshit that is supposed to be said gets said. I mention his drinking is out of control, he says he'll stop next week. Of course, my bitter self scoffed at that. How many weeks ago did he first say next week? It's always next week and never today. I'm tired of waiting for next week, whenever that happens to be. I'm tired of the fighting, I'm tired of the bullshit, I'm tired of the meaningless truce that gets made each time. I'm tired of pretending I've not just been through an emotional paper shredder that is starting to leave more and more frayed nerves behind. I'm tired of crying.

I'm tired of feeling like the only way to make it stop is to hurt myself. I did it a couple weeks ago, I did it again yesterday. If, by some strange chance, anyone sees it, I guess I'll give whatever answer fits best. It hurt so much I had to hurt myself to make what I felt inside quiet down. I kept having these terrible thoughts of slashing my arms to ribbons but I'm not trying to die. I just want the pain to stop. No one knows about this. I can't tell anyone, they'll ask too many questions and maybe attempt to intervene in some way. I don't need a damn intervention. I need someone to hold me while I cry and tell me it's going to be okay until I stop. I need a fucking sincere hug from someone who actually cares.

My hand hurts from punching the wall last night. I think I jammed my middle finger.

What the hell am I going to do tonight?

#marriage #mental health #stress #migraine #relationships

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

This is the first time I've been the drummer for a blind drum walk, it's just as awe-inspiring as being a participant.

Sitting in the middle of the woods with fireflies as the only light source, drumming rhythmically, waiting for blindfolded figures to appear out of the dark made me feel so much more in tune with myself for awhile.

#for context: a blind drum walk is an activity intended to have people use more of their senses #so many people think they can't see at night without a flashlight and that's just not true #(I've taught a surprising number of people to use their night vision #before I was in a teaching role I never thought of it as something that wasn't common knowledge/ability) #so to combat this lack of faith in themselves we blindfold them and send them through the woods at night following the beat of a drum #when you tune into your surroundings you can hear where the trees are - it's amazing #even if they're really pushing their comfort levels and don't tune in they learn how to feel for the trees before they get there #the whole activity is strictly voluntary though and I scope the area of the woods out beforehand for any hazards

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

Part 1

Sitting in the black swivel chair, you spin once or twice before coming to a stop, grimacing at the feeling of sticky floors beneath your shoes. This place is brand new, how the hell are the floors sticky? 

Actually, on that note, how is everything so covered in dust?

Sighing, your mindless fidgeting comes to a stop as the phone, just as dinky as the walls around you, begins to ring. You pick it up but put it back on the table, eyes drifting to the laptop and swing-out tablet. When you flip the former open, you note the four buttons, each relating to something you would have to reset when it comes time to. The latter has cameras that are scattered around, including a separate tab for vents. There’s an option to block off vents, which sends a chill up your spine as you glance to the big ass one at your side.

You decide to block that one off for now.

Humming, you familiarize yourself with the layout of the place, deciding to ignore the shadows that crept through your vision.

Your unenthused eyes scan and take in everything. The replicas (you had seen the originals, and they were permanently stained with both the smell and color of pizza sauce and lawsuits) that were in and around the office, as well as the little bobbleheads that sat on your desk of the animatronics, which were, for some reason, human? You boop the one who you assume to be Freddy, hearing the familiar squeak. 

A small smile comes to your lips.

It was at this time that you realized you had completely ignored the man on the phone, but you couldn't really bring yourself to care. 

The little drawings that were put up were authentic; not just anyone could recreate what a child's mind spits out and decides to draw. 

That Freddy looks a bit fucked up.

The posters were cutely designed, and after getting the gist of what everything was and how everything works, you were on your phone the rest of the night.

When six strikes, you casually leave, giving the building a quick once over as you leave the doors, locking them behind you.

If every night is going to be like that, this is going to get boring.

-

He’s stuck.

This suit traps him like a rabid dog, eager to stay gripped onto his neck.

Still, things would be changing soon.

He can feel it.

He can feel it as a fresh breeze, the first in many years, hits his nostrils, sending a wave of euphoria through his system. The bloodied musk that hung in the dank room was not a pleasant one.

He can feel it as his body accepts this new host, more and more, until soon, quite soon, he will become one with his vessel. 

Just as the animatronics before him did.

He ponders. 

Why was he being freed from this prison of his own design?

Is he being taken somewhere?

…

Will there be a night guard to terrorize?

A grin takes to his broken lips as he ignores the pain and blood that comes from them. Oh, a night guard! Truly, that will be a sight!

He can't wait. 

For now, however, he must play dead.

My, that voice that shouts with excitement from behind him…

It sounds so familiar.

"Bring the truck around!" He calls. "I found one, a real one! It's got the rips, the weird colors, and what I am going to assume is pizza sauce! Ohohoh man, I hit the jackpot with this one! Fazbear's Fright needed something, and here it is!" 

His congratulatory tone made the man within the suit want to throw up. Finding him was nothing to be happy about; he is despicable, incapable of redemption, and an awful being. 

And you know what? 

That's just the way he likes it.

So to have someone happy to find him, especially for their own purposes?

He won't let it stand. 

Yeah, if this place has a nightguard, he'll kill them without mercy before burning the entire thing to the ground.

Might as well make it fun for himself.

As light peeks through, clearly originating from a flashlight, he feels his pupils shrink, resisting the urge to let out a groan as his weak eyes ache from their decades of being in the dark.

"Whoahoh! This one looks gnarly!" The same man as before speaks, probably referencing the organs and tendons that were showing. "C'mon, let's get it up!"

His grin only grows as two people lift him onto a dolly, beginning the move.

Goodbye, saferoom.

And hello, Fazbear's Fright.

-

Humming, you walk into the building, skimming over the decorations once more before noticing something.

The papers that had fallen onto the ground from before, they had dirt on them. Not surprising on its own, but when they were in the shape of tire tracks? 

You decide to follow them, using your memory of the cameras to guide you through the building, which was already rather linear anyway.

Entering the last area, you could see a rather dilapidated animatronic suit, with organs visible and its fur matted with blood. Real blood. The old Springbonnie suit was nearly green from how old and dirty it was.

Your eyebrows raise. "Is that guy just stupid or did he knowingly bring in a suit that has a dead body in it?"

Honestly, you didn't care. "Eh, whatever. It'll probably start moving when I start my shift… I've heard those rumors about the other locations." You turn, stretching, unaware of the eyes that followed you or the head that turned your way.

Damn, does he want to kill this one?

Well, he can think it over more soon. After the merge.

He grins again, feeling his uneven, gouged skin begin to flare with pain.

You exit the room fully, making your way back to the office with all the urgency of an ADHD-riddled person doing laundry.

Which is to say… not much.

You fall into the chair, cursing as the thin mesh cushion does nothing to protect your tailbone from the metal frame of the chair. The phone rings not a moment later, you picking it up and laying it on the table again, eager to ignore it just as you had done before. You stretch again, arms raising above your head as you begin to flip through cameras, finding the rabbit in the same spot it was in before. 

You yawn.

Hopefully it starts moving soon, or else the entire reason you took this job would be unfulfilled. 

You were bored, and you remembered this place from the times you had gone with your younger brother, who was now in his early twenties. You, however, were 28 years of age, with nothing better to do than 'investigate' the Fazbear's Fright that opened up. Still, if that rabbit has a corpse in it, it should make things more fun.

As you lazily flip through your cameras, you set it down and look to the side, seeing a rather dirty looking man with an eyepatch and fox ears. To his confusion, before he could lunge at you, you reach out and swipe a hand through his chest. You continue to swipe forwards and backwards, the incorporeal man stuck standing there until you leaned back.

"So, you're a ghost."

His mouth opens as if to retort, but he just gives up and leaps at you, you not even looking at him anymore. He closes his mouth halfway through the jump, and with an unsatisfied sigh, he disappears.

You continue flipping through the cameras, checking in on the rabbit a couple of times before shoving the tablet out of the way, opening the laptop to have it ready and sitting back in your chair.

You glance towards a shifting figure in front of the window, the hat and bear ears telling of who it is. He limps along, eventually falling beneath your view before seemingly phasing through the wall and leaping at you. You stare passively as he does so, him not completing the jump to instead stand in front of you, confused. 

For shits and giggles, you wave your hand through his chest once or twice.

"Why… aren't you… scared?" He croaks, voice ruined from years of no use.

"Oh, was I supposed to be scared?" You genuinely ask. "Uh, sorry. If you do it again I promise I'll hyperventilate."

"Don't try to… lessen your survival chances…"

"Okay. My bad." 

He sighs, and after annoyedly rubbing his face, he disappears.

You flip out your cameras once more, finding the screen obscured by static and a small error in the center. Lazily, you reset cams.

When your screen clears, you check the rabbit. He looks… strange. Like his body is evolving in front of your eyes. 

To be honest, you don't give enough of a shit to watch a potentially world-changing discovery if it looks that gross. You aren't paid enough to, anyway.

At this pay grade, you even coming into the damn building is volunteer work.

You check your phone for the time, seeing a cool time of one in the morning. 

"Aside from that science experiment gone wrong happening in the back room, it's still really damn boring."

However, it's still not boring enough to watch that transformation or whatever. That corpse (well, at this point, you kinda doubt it's dead) can do whatever the hell he wants with that suit. It's his body, not your business.

After another fifteen minutes of staring at a wall, you check the cameras to the sound of loud clicks and pops, now seeing a heavily scarred man with 1.5 rabbit ears in place of the suit. He takes one step out from his original spot, body heaving forward before he lifts himself up, looking up at the camera with a grin.

"Huh. That's new." You say, watching him jolt forward, continuing to take steps before relearning how to walk smoothly.

It only takes him a moment to rocket off.

"I doubt that's good." You mumble, beginning to flip through the cameras to follow him before playing a sound in the room behind him, making him pause. He turns, walking back with a confused expression.

Continuing to flip through cameras, you watch as the man, who you'll dub Rabbit Guy, wanders, seemingly having lost his focus. Hearing a sound to your left, you pay no heed to whoever it is, instead waggling your hand in what you would assume to be their torso.

"You're strange…" They say.

"Uh-huh. If you'd excuse me, I am currently working on keeping Rabbit Guy the hell away from me." Your voice is monotonous but sincere; you aren't trying to be sarcastic or mean, just trying to tell them the facts.

Glancing to the side, you see that it was a child, so you were waving your hand in his collar. "Oh, my bad. Does that… make you guys uncomfortable?" You ask, retracting your hand.

"No, we can't feel it." 

"Huh." You blandly respond, playing the sounds to lead Rabbit Guy back to where he started, before resetting sounds as you weren't able to play them anymore.

It seems like Rabbit Guy is getting progressively more and more annoyed at being led back, if his attempts to move fast enough to avoid the sounds or block out his ears meant anything. 

His body was responding to the sounds, not him.

It was then that he disappeared, so you check vents, finding him in one that led directly to the room beside your office.

You block it off, much to his annoyance, before yawning and sitting back as any thumps you hear from inside the vents come to a stop. 

You find him standing in the room where he had entered the vent, irritated as he glares at the camera. Preemptively, you reset all, thankfully right as cams and sound go out. 

Sighing, you lazily check through cameras, brows slightly furrowing as you look for him. He was completely gone, not in vents or in rooms. It really is unfortunate how many blind spots and shadowed areas there are.

When you hear the thumping of the vents, you search through them, only finding a stupid knick-knack laying on its side halfway in your sight.

Looking to your side, you peek into the vent, leaning down to see if anything was there. Your gaze meets Rabbit Guy's. 

"Shit." You say, quickly switching cams over to this one and holding down the seal button. 

Your eyes shift back to him, finding him way too close for comfort. As you lift your finger to let the gate close on the vent, the man (who was crouch walking) catches it, forcing it back up. You hear something grind that definitely shouldn't be grinding, and you have a feeling that that vent cover just might be broken.

Getting out of the vent, he stands over you, waiting for some sort of plea or… literally any response at all.

"So, you, uh… come here often?" You ask, leaving him genuinely at a loss. 

"Wh- was that a pickup line?" His rough, baritone voice catches you slightly off-guard. 

You weren't expecting something that was pretty much a zombie to have such a good voice, or a slight british accent for that matter. "Was it? Shit, more people've flirted with me than I thought."

"Really? That's all you can come up with before your death? I'd hate for those to be your final words." He lightly teases, leaning against the wall with a mean grin. 

You look up at the ceiling with a vague smile, his eyes widening momentarily. "To be honest, of any place to die, I'd much rather have it be in a place where I know I'll reach the front pages than in some random alley."

His grin falls into a frown as he watches you turn to him, the smile still on your face. It feels strange.

He feels strange. 

Why does a random night guard make him feel so…

So… comfortable?

You were calm, collected, not making any sudden moves or even attempting to exit the chair. Theoretically, the perfect prey, but not a satisfying kill. 

If he even wants to kill you, that is.

“What’s your name?” He asks, watching as you spin to face him in your chair. You would be taller if you stood, but he would still have a few inches on you.

“Y/N. You?” 

“I’m… William. Or, rather, I was, when I was well and truly human.”

“And now?” You ask.

“I don’t exactly have a name.”

“Can I still call you William, then? Well, if I live long enough to do so?” You ask, eyes moving up to meet his. Looking up at him like that… He wishes the hot feeling in the pit of his stomach would go away.

“...Fine.”

“I mean… are you going to kill me?” You ask, face not shifting as he glares down at you. 

“I won’t kill you on the first night, you need to give me more entertainment.” At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Oh, so we’re both here for the same reason.” You blankly say, his face contorting from a glare to confusion once more.

“You’re here… for entertainment?” He slowly asks, answered by your nod.

“I’m certainly not here for the pay. This place gives like half of minimum wage but I can’t complain about it because the other part is supposed to come from tips. Somehow.”

“How do you even live?” 

“Well, right now I’m on an paid leave due to some unfortunate deaths in my family. To be honest, I never really cared for any of them, but hey. I’ll take any chance for a break I can. Then I got bored.”

He huffs out a laugh. “So you went to another job on your break?”

“Listen, getting a month off leaves a man with little to do when capitalism has left me with no hobbies. Besides, this gives me a great excuse to continue avoiding people.”

His lips curl into an amused grin as he leans forward, lowering his head to be eye level with yours. "Well, you won't be avoiding me." He practically purrs, you averting your eyes at the tone he uses. 

Why would he say it like that?! 

His golden eyes follow you as you close the laptop's screen, enjoying your reaction. You…

He'll keep you around. 

You're entertaining and friendly. Open, and… warm.

He wonders. 

You're human, and fully alive. He's a revived corpse who merged with his vessel. You probably are very warm compared to him.

When he comes back to his senses, he notices you slowly raising out of your seat, hand outstretched towards him. 

Well, might as well take the chance.

He grabs your wrist, looking down at you unimpressed. You quietly huff, falling back into your chair and forcing him to move away from the wall in order to not dislocate your wrist.

Well, his hypothesis is correct. You are very warm. 

He feels the tightening in his gut, not wanting to let go but knowing that he will have to.

You, however, don't actually care either way. You begin your attempt again, this time with your left hand. Slowly raising out of your seat, you actually manage to stand fully up before he notices again, grabbing your other wrist. 

"What are you even trying to do?" He asks, a light sneer on his lips.

"Well... uh, I was trying to… boop your nose? If you're bonded with one of the original suits, then I figured either you or Fredbear would have the sound effect."

He lets out a few short laughs, his sneer replaced with the same amused grin as before.

"I'm afraid neither of us have the sound effect. That only came about with the second and third generations of animatronics."

You hum, interested.

His eyes quickly scan over you, taking in your form. This position, practically holding you hostage… Needless to say, he didn't dislike it.

Still, he releases you as he catches you glancing at what he assumes to be a phone. Things have advanced quite far since he was trapped. 

You turn it on quickly, checking the time. “Well, we have around an hour and a half before my shift ends, so…” Pausing, you check the time again. An hour and a half?

He steps closer, you glancing back up at him before leaning back as he leans forward, looming over you. “Tomorrow, you best make this more fun for me. I’ll greet you, but then I’ll head to the back. Try and stop me from getting in.”

“Uh, sure. Are you still planning on making the punishment for loss, uh, death?”

His eyes narrow in coordination with a widening grin. “That’s for me to know. You either figure it out, or you don’t. It all depends how well you play.” His gruff voice slightly echoes in the mostly empty building, you nodding in response. 

“Oh, cool. Can I tell my brother about you?” You ask suddenly, him quirking a brow as he stares down at you, easily at least half a foot taller than you. He was always tall, but now that he’s in this new form, he grew to be somewhere from 6’6 to 6’8. You sit down once more, exacerbating the height difference.

“Feel free to. Just know that if he ever comes around here, he won’t be alive for very long.”

“I doubt he will. He’s always preferred Foxy the most because he has taste, but-”

“Taste? For liking that liability-strewn fox? You like him as well?”

“To be honest, I never really liked any of them more than the other. I was in my emo phase when I went to see them, so it was practically illegal for me to like anything. But Foxy had sharp teeth and a wicked lookin’ hook, so… I guess I did.”

He hums, clearly slightly annoyed.

“Are you jealous that I liked the fox more than the rabbit that isn’t even the same generation as you?”

“I really should kill you.” His irritated expression shows the truth to your statement.

“It’s okay, I’m willing to call Springbonnie my favorite.”

Now, William was confused. Your tone… you weren’t joking. You were being genuine about something as stupid as this? What is with you?

“You’re very confusing. I think you joke, and then I listen to your tone and you’re genuine. But still, I wouldn’t mind if you did so.”

“It’s not nearly as confusing as how time passes in this place. It’s been like ten minutes since I met you but the clock says like three or four hours have passed.”

“What? Really?” His brows furrow as he steps closer, finding another excuse to close the distance between you both as he leans over the chair, seeing you pointing to the screen. “How strange…”

“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like tomorrow’s hunt will last for six hours, then. Thankfully.” You sigh.

“What, do you not want to feel like my prey for six hours straight?” He grins, leaning over further until his arm rests on your shoulder.

You shiver. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Because it makes you react, obviously. It’s entertaining to watch you squirm from something as simple as... the tone of my voice.” Of course, in order to prove his point, he does exactly what he did before, lowering his voice a few pitches and upping the growliness of it.

In covering your eyes, you also cover your cheeks, which have gained a slight flush. “William, I am begging you. Please, please, please, stop talking like that.”

And, naturally progressing, he was left somewhat stunned by the sound of your pleading tone. There’s just something about it, especially as you say his name, that makes him want to…

...makes him want to chase, and capture, and possess forever.

You as his prized prey, and him as the hunter.

“I’ll use it when necessary.” He vaguely answers, watching your head droop.

“I’ll take what I can get.” You concede breathily. 

He chuckles, hearing the chime of a bell, signifying 6 in the morning. "Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then. Don't keep me waiting."

"Asshole. I won't." You turn your head away from him, hiding the flush on your face, and stand up, stretching. "See ya, William."

He hums, eyes tracing your form as you stretch. It was a nice view, watching the button up shirt crease around your back as you stretch, clearly hinting at the muscle beneath. His eyes did drift lower once or twice, and that's how he figures out that damn, you have a really nice ass!

You begin to walk out, and he follows you with his eyes, watching you turn past the replica Freddy husk and unlock the door, exiting into the fresh morning. His eyelids droop, gaze slipping up as his lips curl into a wide grin.

“Y/N… I won’t kill you. Especially not when I’m presented with such an ample opportunity to make this into something so entertaining.” 

Well…

Is that the only reason?

Of course, he knows it isn’t.

His grin falls, leaving him coldly leering at the aged panels above him before his sight shifts back to the room around him. As he exits the office, he glances at the stained and shaded glass of the door, not allowing much, if any, light in. He turns away, heading back to where he was originally.

As he walks, he lets his form shift, feeling his body grow to his previous monster rabbit self, the creaks of his metal joints loud in the silent building. 

He ignores any shadows that creep in the edges of his vision, the specters traversing without sound. 

“This is going to be… boring.” His voice, far rougher than before, comes out unfeeling and croaky. As he returns to his previous position, slouching over once more, he decides to use his old tactic to pass time; inflicting enough pain on himself to fall unconscious. It doesn’t matter if his dreams are infested with darkness, nor how much he suffers in them. 

It was better than the boredom of sitting in one position with an unchanging environment.

He begins forcing his muscles to flex and strain within the suit and pull against the beams they have welded to, making him grit his teeth before the searing pain fades away, along with his vision.

Goodnight, Y/N.

-

“Yo.” You greet your brother, the man tiredly yawning as he ruffles his hair.

“Heya, Y/N. What’re you up so early for?” 

“Well, I got bored and got a night shift job at this dinky little horror attraction opening up next week. I decided to tell you about what happened there before I head off to sleep.”

“You got bored during a break from your job so you… got another job?”

“Y’know, William said the same thing.” You say, your brother narrowing his eyes at you.

“A coworker?” He asks. 

“Eh, not quite… he is the reason I stayed up to talk to you, though.”

He hums, walking around the couch you were splayed on with your shirt half unbuttoned. 

“So, to begin my tale, you remember Freddy’s? The pizzeria with the animatronics?” You question.

“Yeah?”

“Well the horror place I went to is based off of that; it’s filled with replicas and a few actual things from the pizzerias of the past, but something came in tonight that was… different.”

“Which was?”

“An animatronic. One of the originals, Springbonnie. Granted, the suit was ripped to shit and covered in enough dirt to be green, but it was authentic. It even has the dead body! Well - not so dead body, but still visible.”

“Did you call the cops?” He asks, worried.

“Hell no! I’m not paid enough to give a shit about what could-or-could-not-be a dead body. Either way, he transformed into a human, which was rather odd, but-”

“Just to be clear, this rabbit had a dead body inside and transformed into a human, and you don’t question it?”

“No. Continuing on, he got into my office and then we talked for a bit, I learned that his name is William, time passed really weirdly, and then we struck a deal where I have to keep him out of my office or I'll maybe die.”

“You’re still going back there?! And ‘maybe die?!’”

“Yeah, he said the knowledge about whether or not I die from losing the hunt was ‘for him to know.’ I didn’t question it further.” 

“You know, Y/N, sometimes it feels like I’m the older sibling. You’re fucking stupid.”

“I’m well aware.”

He leans over the couch, glaring down at you. “Then wisen up and quit that damn job.”

“I’m good. William is good company.”

“He threatened to kill you!”

“And? He hasn’t. Yet.”

“You infuriate me, gayboy.” He says, stepping away from the couch.

“Cool. I’ll sleep here for now, when you get back from work I’ll definitely be up.”

“Whatever.” He waves his hand at you, ignoring the middle finger pointing his direction from behind the couch’s back.

---

Part 2

also a lot of the stuff i write from now on may be male reader inserts lol

heres my springtrap design

here's the updated design lol

#springtrap #springtrap x reader #william afton #william afton x reader #afton #fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf 3 #yandere #yandere fnaf #yandere springtrap #five nights at freddy's #yandere x reader #x reader #male reader #male insert #reader insert #fnaf springtrap #gay

[tigerkirby215]

5e Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Suke “hugehugesword” Su. Made for Riot Games.)

In my constant and continued effort to deny Ezreal’s existence I finally had to get around to building him. Again it’s not that I don’t like him... I mean I don’t. But I kinda forgot what I was going to build him as. Lol.

Dorans & Dragons also made a build for Ezreal back in like... early 2020. Christ that’s before the world went to shit, ain’t it? Well regardless they also made their build before Tasha’s Cauldron came out and I think I can make a build that is different enough to warrant my build existing alongside theirs.

In short: this is an elaborate excuse for me to make another Artificer build.

GOALS

Gawk at this! - We need many a glowing projectile to spam at foes before blowing them up. Ezreal isn’t the type to just autoattack.

I always know a shortcut - Flash on a 15 second cooldown is nice. We’ll need to be able to blink around constantly throughout the entire fight.

Time to show 'em who's best - Nothing’s more dangerous than a well-placed Trueshot Barrage sniping through the entire enemy team.

RACE

Back to good ol’ Variant Human. As a Variant Human you can increase two of your ability scores by 1: increase your Intelligence and your Charisma, to be the hot smart twink you are. You also learn a Language of your choice along with a Skill of choice. You spent plenty of time studying The Void so Abyssal would make sense as a language, and for your skill Perception would help you spot traps or incoming ganks... as long as you remember to ward.

For your feat we’re going to be grabbing Arcane Shift as fast as possible with Fey Touched so you can start Flashing. (Not like that!) You can increase your Intelligence score by 1 and also learn the Misty Step spell. You can also add a Divination or Enchantment spell to your list and a little Heroism never hurt anyone. You can cast both of these spells once without spending a spell slot, and can then spend spell slots on them after the fact.

ABILITY SCORES

15; INTELLIGENCE - Archeology is a lot of history and facts... If you do it the boring way, that is!

14; DEXTERITY - Repeat it after me: “something something Medium armor.”

13; CHARISMA - You’re a pretty boy twink who got at least two girls on the Rift to fall for you.

12; WISDOM - Traveling through ancient temples and traps takes a degree of common sense. Not necessarily common sense you have, but a bit of boost never hurt.

10; CONSTITUTION - You’re an ADC, which means you’re squishy.

8; STRENGTH - Twink.

Feel free to swap Constitution around with another stat for better health but worse roleplay.

BACKGROUND

“Archaeologist” is just the nice way of saying Tomb Raider, which is the mean way of saying Adventurer! You get proficiency with History and Survival (hey you’ve gotta tough it out in the desert sometimes!) You also get proficiency in a language of your choice (I went for Dwarvish because Dwarves seem to have built most ruins) and proficiency in either Navigator’s Tools or Cartographer’s Tools... “Who needs a map?”

You spent enough time in ruins to pick up some Historical Knowledge on ancient dungeons and temples to know who made them. And if you find anything that belongs in a museum you know how much it’s worth to the museum!

(Artwork by Sangsoo Jeong. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ARTIFICER 1

Starting off as Artificer to “borrow” a few inventions. But also because you get training in Arcana to know your magical artifacts, Investigation to find said magical artifacts, and Calligrapher’s Tools to slay Ascended and Darkin alike in one blow. You also get Magical Tinkering to wave that gauntlet of yours around on some Tiny objects, making them glow or play sounds or do all sorts of things that Prestidigitation would probably do better. But at least you can play your own theme music too!

But of course the main appeal of being an Artificer is the Spellcasting. You can learn two cantrips from the Artificer list like Message to coordinate with your support and Guidance to help yourself find treasure! (Or help others I guess.) You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Intelligence modifier plus your Artificer level (rounded down.) Cure Wounds will let you summoner spell Heal yourself or your Support. Faerie Fire will serve as a more basic version of your Essence Flux, making an enemy easier to hit (therefor making them take more damage!) And Feather Fall is always useful in a pinch!

Also yes you don’t have your gauntlet yet so you’re going to have to use a Light Crossbow for now. Feel free to take a combat cantrip if you want but you don’t really need it.

LEVEL 2 - ARTIFICER 2

Second level Artificers can make Infusions, special definitely-not-stolen magical treasures that make them more awesome than everyone else. For a little more AD an Enhanced Weapon is useful to have. You can also put those goggles on your head to use by making Goggles of Night to see with your dumb human eyes. A Mind Sharpener may feel like a cheat, but I’m not going to say no to keeping Concentration in check. And for your final infusion? A Rope of Climbing might be useful? Honestly the more impressive stuff comes after you’ve done a bit more exploring.

You can also prepare another spell like Alarm, just in case someone’s planning to steal your... legitimately earned treasure.

LEVEL 3 - ARTIFICER 3

Third level Artificers get to choose their specialty and Armorers don’t have to wear an entire suit of armor; just a gauntlet! Along with proficiency in Smith’s Tools you can turn any suit of armor you find into Arcane Armor. The armor has a variety of benefits: no Strength requirement, the inability to have your armor removed against your will, the ability to take it off or put it on as an action, and some replacement limbs. But notably it works as an Artificer spell focus!

There’s two different Armor Models and we’ll be going for the Infiltrator variant for a Lightning Launcher. This makes your Gauntlet a weapon that deals a d6 of lightning damage, with a regular range of 90 and a long range of 300 in case you want to go for long ranged snipes. Additionally once per turn you can pop Essence Flux to do an extra d6 of damage on hit! And I didn’t even mention the best part: this works off your Intelligence! So no more need for the crossbow.

You also get your boots for Powered Steps, increasing your movement speed by 5 feet. And thanks to your Dampening Field you can hide in bushes with free Stealth advantage! I’d recommend trying to get a Breastplate because that’s the best armor you can get that doesn’t also impose stealth disadvantage, but even with Half Plate you can still be sneaky! Heck, you can even wear Platemail if you want! "And my boots are not waterproof. Fantastic."

Oh and you get some Armorer Spells! Magic Missile will autoaim for you like your Arcane Shift projectile, and Thunderwave is helpful for some self-peel.

LEVEL 4 - ARTIFICER 4

4th level Artificers get an Ability Score Improvement: seeing as we have uneven Intelligence take the Observant feat for +1 Intelligence and a boost to your passive Perception and Investigation to watch the minimap for people to snipe! Additionally you can spy on the bad guys if you want and read their lips to gain knowledge of all their secret plans!

More Intelligence does also usually mean more spells prepared but I’m going to wait for...

(Artwork by Xu “Crow God” Cheng. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - ARTIFICER 5

5th level Armorers up their Attack Speed with Rising Spell Force, gaining an Extra Attack with the attack action!

You also get Mirror Image and Shatter added to your list of Armorer Spells, and can prepare spells like Rope Trick for a safe place to rest for awhile, and Heat Metal to really lay in that Essence Flux.

LEVEL 6 - ARTIFICER 6

6th level Artificers get more Infusions which is what I was waiting for! A Radiant Weapon is all the fun of an Enhanced Weapon but it also doubles as a flashlight for your dumb human eyes! And Boots of the Winding Path will let you Arcane Shift back to safety in case you accidentally run into danger.

Feel free to swap some of your old infusions around too. A Lantern of Revealing or Cloak of Elvenkind would be helpful... and Gloves of Thievery never hurt anyone.

And finally you can prepare Aid, as your natural awesomeness rubs off on your allies. "Oh, please, don't die. I can't lose a sidekick. Not again."

LEVEL 7 - WIZARD 1

You didn’t think this would just be a pure Artificer build, did you? Even if that would’ve been stronger I’m legally obligated to needlessly stick multiclass levels into all my builds. And Wizard is definitely a good multiclass for more slots to do Spellcasting! You learn 3 cantrips and six leveled spells as a first level Wizard:

CANTRIPS

To help your allies land their shots take Mind Sliver to weaken an enemy’s saving throws.

Prestidigitation will let you do a bunch of simple magic, and if you want you can have your own hero music too!

Finally Friends is good to make friends you don’t mind losing after they tell you where the ancient ruins are.

SPELLS

I basically just took everything with the Ritual tag. Alarm (yes you have it as an Artificer spell but you can swap that out), Comprehend Languages, Detect Magic, Identify, Tenser’s Floating Disk... and sure why not Find Familiar too? Seeing as you can ritual cast at will most of your early level stuff is going to be reserved for Ritual Casting, as you’re probably going to be spending most of your first level slots on Magic Missile and Faerie Fire anyways.

You also get Arcane Recovery, letting you recover spell slots equal to half your Wizard level (rounded up.) So right now you can get a first level spell slot back at the end of a Short Rest! And later on you can get more!

LEVEL 8 - WIZARD 2

Second level Wizards get to choose the school that their parents left them in before disappearing in the jungle, and the School of Evocation has a surprise tool that will help us later. Along with being an Evocation Savant (allowing you to copy Evocation spells into your spell book with half the time and cost) you can Sculpt Spells so that they only hit the bad guys: when you cast an Evocation spell (from any class, not just Wizard!) you can choose a number creatures equal to the spell’s level + 1. The chosen creatures automatically succeed on their saving throws against the spell, and they take no damage if they would normally take half damage on a successful save. This will be really useful when we get our (pseudo-)Global ultimate; wouldn’t want to fry your pals now would you?

We may as well grab some of those Evocation spells, right? Earth Tremor will let you hit an AoE Mystic Shot because Riot decided that Tiamat should have a cleave I guess, and I mean... Shield is never a bad thing to have?

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - ARTIFICER 7

Back to the big brain plays: 7th level Artificers can make the biggest brain plays thanks to Flash of Genius, letting you boost an ally’s skill check or saving throw with your own natural perfection. The boost is equal to your Intelligence modifier and you can use this reaction a number of times equal to double your Intelligence modifier.

LEVEL 10 - ARTIFICER 8

8th level Artificers get another Ability Score Improvement? Well seeing as Intelligence still controls just about everything we do it would do good to increase that by 2! That does mean you can prepare more spells (both as a Wizard and as an Artificer) but I’m going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - ARTIFICER 9

Every ADC dreams of being six-slotted; now you can be with Armor Modifications! Your Armorer armor counts as 4 separate items for the sake of your Infusions: the chest piece, boots, helmet, and the armor’s special weapon can all be infused. Far more importantly however you can have two extra infusions! Those infusions have to be on your armor, but you can put the Radiant Weapon (weapon) and Goggles of Night (helmet) onto your armor and save your other infusions for your allies! Or for yourself; yourself works too.

And we can’t forget the third level spells! You get Hypnotic Pattern from your Armorer Spells for an AoE stun, but far more importantly you get Lightning Bolt which will serve as Trueshot Barrage! And since you’re an Evocation Wizard you can shoot past your friends without blowing them to bits. "Oh, a plan. Yeah, I totally have one of those."

You can also prepare spells like Haste for more DPS (just don’t get stunned), Blink for some Duskblade invisibility, and replace Alarm with Revifify... Ya know: just in case.

LEVEL 12 - ARTIFICER 10

As an ADC it would be good to get six-slotted, and Magic Item Adept lets you get your 4th Legendary item! That’s because you can now attune to 4 magic items at once! (And can also craft Common and Uncommon magic items more easily.)

Speaking of Infusions, we can make more of them, such as a Cloak of Protection or Winged Boots! These are just generally useful but not really Ezreal specific; they’re mostly for your allies. "The gauntlet's for show... the talent's all me."

You can also prepare another spell like Fly which is just universally useful, and holy shit you get another cantrip. Take Mage Hand and maybe try to be a little more cautious when tomb raiding?

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - ARTIFICER 11

Do you want a lot more Mystic Shots? 11th level Artificers can make a Spell Storing Item and put an Artificer spell of first or second level inside. What’s cool about this is that anyone can use it, allowing them to cast the spell as if they were you!

My recommendation? Give them Mirror Image. It’s an amazing buff that doesn’t require Concentration. Even a low DEX Paladin will appreciate the chance to not be hit, and a high DEX ally can really get value out of Mirror Image. Yeah the Barbarian technically can’t cast while raging, but they can use this before going into a Rage to be very hard to hit!

And speaking of spells you can prepare another one, so how about you grab Create Food and Water to keep yourself sated on longer archeological trips. "Why didn't I eat before I got here...? Ezreal, why?!”

LEVEL 14 - ARITIFCER 12

12th level Artificers get another Ability Score Improvement... we got all we need in terms of stats (Intelligence lol) so now it’s time to really make some impressive trick shots: the Sharpshooter feat will let you attack at long range without disadvantage and ignore cover bonuses, but most importantly you can take a -5 to your attack roll for a whopping +10 to damage! Don’t use this on high AC targets obviously but if you think you’ll hit why not go for the one-shot? "No applause, please. ...Okay, maybe just a bit of thunderous acclaim. ...A little?"

LEVEL 15 - WIZARD 3

I do still want more spell slots, as well as more spells known! Truthfully there isn’t too much I want from second level, so take Locate Object to find hidden treasure and Augry (added to the Wizard spell list thanks to Tasha’s!) to know what to expect in the next dungeon... sorta. "No plan survives first contact with me."

LEVEL 16 - WIZARD 4

4th level Wizards get an Ability Score Improvement: we got all the abilities we wanted really, so why not Get Lucky? The Lucky Feat will give you a bit of anime protagonist power to guarantee that you make the perfect daring escape. Feel free to take Warcaster or just increase your Constitution however; by this point Ability Scores don’t matter too much.

You can also learn two more spells like Melf’s Acid Arrow for another Essence Flux-esque DoT ability and See Invisibility, in case you need a Sweeper Lense to deal with any clowns.

LEVEL 17 - WIZARD 5

Ima be honest I kinda just wanted third level for Thunder Step to get an Arcane Shift that does damage. Artificer 18 / Wizard 2 (or even just Artificer 20) would’ve been a fine build for Ezeal too, if you don’t think this one spell is worth a 5 level class dip.

Anyways you also learn another cantrip and I mean... you may as well take Shocking Grasp for some defense up close? You also get one other spell and I’m gonna suggest Galder’s Tower this time which is like Tiny Hut... but awesome. And really small. This is mostly just a way for me to talk about a fun spell and also recommend my homebrew fix for it.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - ARTIFICER 13

You got third level spells as a Wizard, you can now prepare 4th level spells as an Artificer! Fire Shield and Greater Invisibility are both available as Armorer Spells, one of which is far more useful for you than the other one. Bro imagine how crazy Evelynn would be with Evelynn’s passive. But yeah feel free to swap around your prepared spells a bit for more 4th level spells, since you definitely have the slots to do so.

LEVEL 19 - ARTIFICER 14

14th level Artificers are Magic Item Savants who can attune to 5 magic items at once, meaning that along with your boots which are technically magical but whatever you can finally be properly six-slotted! But far more importantly you can attune to any item, regardless of any class or race restrictions tied to the item!  "I can't get hauled into wizard court again. Technically I don't have a permit for the gauntlet."

Speaking of more attunement: more Infusions. An Amulet of Health will let you boost your bad Constitution from a 10 to a 19, giving you a solid 76 health boost near max level! Other than that more movement speed is never a bad thing, and Boots of Speed may give you more value than your other magic boots.

But holy shit forget all that because you finally get your 4th Artificer cantrip! Grab Mending because somehow we don’t have that yet; gotta keep your outfit in check! Oh and you can get around to preparing another 4th level spell! Truth be told though the 4th level spells for Artificer are kinda... bad? But at least Tasha’s gave us Summon Construct which is a surprisingly strong summon!

"Last time I was in Shurima, I decoded some glyphs. Something about a jackal head... End of times... The usual. All I wanted was this ruby scarab. It looks great on my mantle."

LEVEL 20 - ARTIFICER 15

Our final level is the 15th level of Artificer for the Perfected Armor Armorer capstone. When you shoot an enemy you mark them with Essence Flux, giving them disadvantage to hit you. In addition the next attack (including your own I’m pretty sure!) has Advantage against the enemy while they’re marked with  Essence Flux, and if they’re hit they’ll take an extra d6 of Lightning damage!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Blast 'em, gauntlet! - With your capstone ability you do 4d6 + 10 damage with your Lightning Launcher, and that’s before using Sharpshooter. Even without your capstone 3d6 + 10 is still really good damage output, especially when you can cast spells for big bursts of damage.

See if you can handle this! - Speaking of spells your slots go all the way up to 7th level, and while you’ll mostly just be upcasting a 12d6 Lightning Bolt is nothing to sneeze at! Not to mention other options like a 7d8 Fire damage Heat Metal or +30 HP Aid.

If anyone asks, I didn't see any of these priceless artifacts for sale - It goes without saying that having two more attunement slots than the average character is massive, especially when you can stick infusions onto your armor to maximize the amount of treasures on your person.

CONS

I wasn't strong enough? - Investing fully in INT gives us maxed out combat stats but it leaves a lot of our other abilities lacking. We’re nowhere near Charismatic enough to sell (somewhat) illegitimately gotten gains, and while Infusions can help augment our health (and even our Strength if you grab a Belt of Giant’s Strength) your Wisdom and even your Dexterity are rather mediocre, which is bad for both skill checks and saving throws.

Impossible comebacks are sorta my specialty - Most of your coolest stuff is tied to spell slots and other Long Rest dependent mechanics, and while you have a lot of spell slots (as well as Arcane Recovery to get some of them back) they are still quite limited. You’re perfectly viable as just an auto-attack and Q spammer, but who doesn’t want to shoot lasers and explosions, ya know?

Never met a problem that I couldn't blast away with magic... that I don't even understand - 5 levels in Wizard give us big spell slots but that’s about it, and yeah a 7d6 Lightning Bolt (that won’t hit your allies) is nothing to sneeze at but for the most part you are more of a Martial character. Just saying that level 18 of Artificer would’ve given you Magic Item Master for a whole 6 attunement slots! And level 20 of Artificer would’ve given you Soul of Artifice, essentially operating as a +6 to all saving throws and a 6 time use Guardian Angel.

But if a teamfight breaks out you’re more than a capable ADC. Artificers are the masters of magic items and it doesn’t matter if you make them yourself or “borrow” them from an ancient tomb; you can be the hero mom and dad always wanted you to be! Just concentrate on your farm in the early game and don’t take unnecessary risks. You may be the perfect man of magic but you’re not immortal, despite what the ADCs I’m forced to support always seem to think.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuesting. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Ezreal #you belong in a museum #dnd artificer #dnd wizard #twink

[deanandthephantoms]

I'm going bananas for you. (a Charlie Gillespie story.)

A/N: So. I was talking with @julie-thefatones and we stumbled upon the topic of Charlie and how he loves bananas.. - listen it was 3am we we're having fun you can't blame us.- ANYWAY. i turned that conversation into this little story. Enjoy reading it haha!

Wordcount : 1328 --

Today was gonna be a good day. The cast of Julie and the Phantoms had, after 2 years of waiting, finally been able to go on a world tour. A little over two years ago Charlie met Y/N and not long after their first meeting they started dating which quickly turned into them being an official couple. Due to Covid and quarantine they practically ended up living together and both had loved every minute of it. When things stared to get better and the world slowly became normal again the official JATP-World tour was announced and as excited as Charlie was he was not excited about the fact that he would have to miss Y/N for literal months. He couldn’t be away from her for that long! So he had, one day, gotten down on his knees – causing a bit of panic and confusion, making people think he was about to propose- only to beg Y/N to come with him on tour. A proposal Y/N happily said yes to under the condition she could bring her best friend Hannah, so she wouldn’t be lonely during rehearsals and stuff. She also would have said yes to a marriage proposal by the way, but that was apparently something for another day. At this point the cast had played different states and cities and every city had organized his own Fan-action. From all waving a flashlight during unsaid Emily. to throwing colorful balloons around during Edge of great. It had been awesome. And it had inspired Y/N and Hannah to organize a little something as well.. and that brings us to Today..

I was woken up by soft kisses that were being placed all over my face. Before actually opening my eyes I enjoyed the feeling of Charlie’s arms around me, there really was no place where I felt more at home than in his arms. The soft kisses making my heart flutter. I snuggled closer to his bare warm chest, giving away that I had in fact woken up. “Morning sleepyhead” He said in the morning voice I loved all too much. “Morning” I smiled before I kissed him. “Are you ready to play your biggest show yet?” I asked him. They were playing in New York tonight, the biggest venue they had played to date. “YEAH I AM! There’s gonna be so many cool people to rock out with I can’t wait!’ Charlie was always excited to get on stage but I could tell the show tonight got him a bit over excited. “you know what babe, me too. Can’t wait to see you kill it on stage again.’ ‘ Yeaah you like seeing me pretending to be a rockstar ey?’ there was a teasing tone in his voice. “What do you mean pretend? You are a rockstar Charlie.” I reply dead serious before adding “Cause you’re a star and you rock my world.” “ooof. Not your best pick up line babe..” “Oh i know.” and then we just both laugh. There was never a grumpy start of the day with this man.

Later that day we arrived to the venue for Soundchecks and a short rehearsal for the night. That’s when I meet up with Hannah. “Did you bring the costumes for tonight?” I ask her. “She laughs at me “yeah was kind of hard to sneak them in without anyone noticing but they’re in the building” “Goooood! I’m curious to see if the fans will work with us on this one.. and even more curious to see Charlies face if they do.” Just the image of it in my head cracks me up. That’s when I hear Owens voice behind me “What’s so funny?” “nooothing.” Me and Hannah reply in our most innocent ways. “You’re up to something aren’t you?” I share a look with Hannah trying to decide whether we should tell Owen or not. That’s when Hannah makes the decision for us. “We may have kind of planned a prank on Charlie?” Prank on Charlie is all Owen needed to be fully on our side. “ooooh what are we doing?” he asks. “Well you know how he’s kind of know for eating bananas right?” “yeah. The dude is eating them all the time. But..” Hannah cuts Owen off: “Right. So as a Joke we asked all the fans to come in dressed in normal clothes, but to put on their banana costumes when now or never is about to happen . And then once he gets off stage we’ll be wearing a banana costume as well just to make it clear where the joke is coming from.” Owen bursts out in laughter “ok. That’s gold I hope it works’ he says after composing himself. “ Don’t mention a thing to Charlie okay? Just act normal or he’ll know we’re up to something” I say to Owen before he gets back on stage. He just gives me a nod as assurance.

Hannah and me are alone again and decide to log on to our fake fan account to hype up our idea one last time. We had over the last few days gotten a lot of reactions of fans who told us they were gonna do it. Now we’ll just have to wait and see what happens tonight.

After all having dinner together with the whole cast and crew the show was about to begin. The venue was starting to fill gradually and one glance into the crowd had told me and Hannah that at least everyone had gotten the message about wearing normal clothes to begin with. Seconds before the cast is about to go on stage I find Charlie, wrapping my arms around his waist I pull him close to me. “Go rock their world, rockstar” we share a deep kiss. Before I let him go up on the stage. I don’t think I will ever get used to the sound of all those screams when the cast first appears on stage. It really is deafening. They start of with a song they al wrote together and after that a few more songs by other cast members follow. The fans know that after Savannah’s ‘all eyes on me’ performance it’s time for Now or never. This is it. This is the moment me and Hannah have been waiting for all day. Sav gets off the stage and the first notes of Now or Never start to play. In no time the entire crowd starts turning yellow. “ WE DID IT Y/N! THEY’RE WEARING THEIR COSTUMES !” Hannah yells at me. “ I KNOWWW!” I just say waiting for Charlie to come on stage and see his reaction. And there he is. I see Owen laugh at the scene. Charlie seems genuinely confused at the sight of an entire crowd of bananas. He shrugs it off like a total pro and gets into the song skipping and hopping around like he always does. But that moment of confusion was enough to have me and my best friend dying of laughter. At the end of song Charlie takes the mic and goes “YOU’RE ALL LOOKING WONDERFUL TONIGHT!” making the crowd go wild with cheers. Before coming of the stage only to be greeted by me in my banana costume. He stops and looks at me with a confused face. “Youu… you did this?”

I step towards him and pull him closer to me. “Welll.. What can I say? I’m going Bananas for you and I just had to show that to you.” He laughs at me “You’re so weird. I love you.” and then pulls me in for a kiss. That’s when Owen walks by ‘You also just eat a crazy amount of bananas dude. It’s a problem.’ That made me laugh. It ruined our sweet little moment but that was fine. Charlie gives Owen a offended look. “He’s not wrong you know.. You do love you bananas” I laugh before pulling him in for another kiss.

#charliegillespiebanana #Charlie gillespie #Charlie gillespie fic #Charlie gillespie story #JATP #julie and the phantoms #Charlie gillespie banana #Banana #JATP TOUR #JATP WORLD TOUR #fanfiction #charlie gillespie fanfiction #fic #made by me #Julie-thefatones #fan-action #fan-activity #concert #sunset curve #dirty candy #doule trouble #luke #luke patterson

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Ch-6 Unforeseen

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? I took a nice break to get a grip on myself and it really worked wonders. So sorry for taking such a long time to get this out. I hope this will be worth the wait!💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 1890

Triggers: Mentions of murder

Rating: General

I am participating in this week’s @wackydrabbles​. The prompt for this week is “I meant every word.” and it will appear in bold.

CATCH UP HERE!

Sometimes Destiny, has a strange sense of humour,

When we think it is the end, it is usually just the beginning.

The four had just fallen asleep when sudden banging of the door woke them up. 

Ethan woke up abruptly. He saw how peacefully Pooja was sleeping. 

Ethan didn't want to wake her up. 

He got out of the bed and took a look at the clock. 

7 in the morning. 

It was pretty late as compared to his usual waking time. But after everything they did last night, they were tired as hell and hence it felt like they had slept not 4 hrs but 40 minutes. 

Yawning, he got to the door and was very, very, taken aback.

Standing by the door, was the Police.

"Officers, How may I help you?" Ethan inquired in a very professional tone.

"Dr Ramsey. Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour. We wanted some information." The police officer standing at the front informed.

Ethan let out a heavy sigh but knew better than to argue with them. So he acknowledged, "Please come in. People around will be concerned if they see the Police standing at my doorstep." He stepped aside to let them in. 

By the time, Mark, Alex and Pooja had also waken up due to the sounds and came out of their rooms. All three were surprised to see the Police.

The officers too, stopped short on seeing them. Their gazes stopped on Mark and Alex.

"Look who we have here." One of the officers implied to the other, pointing at Mark and Alex.

"Seems like our work here has become a lot easier."

"Excuse me, Officer, what exactly are you talking about? You stated you wanted information." Ethan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, we wanted information about the whereabouts of Dr Danvers and Dr Walton." The way the Officer emphasized whereabouts was enough for them to know that something was wrong.

"Officers, we are here. Tell us what you wanna know." Mark spoke before Ethan could say anything.

"Sure, Dr. Danvers. You have an awful amount of confidence for a criminal." The Officer scoffed.

This time it was Pooja who spoke. "Wait! What? No, No what? CRIMINALS?"

"Of course, Dr Sharma. Not just mere criminals, these two are Cold Blooded Murderers." The police officer grumbled.

"Officer, I am sure there has been some misunderstanding. They both were with us all the time. Lex, er, Dr Walton and me, we discovered the body together." Pooja tried to intervene.

"Oh yes, Dr. Sharma? Then how on Earth did the original key of the patient's room get into the office of MARK DANVERS?" The man shouted the last words.

"WHAT! How is that even possible? I didn't even know the real key of the room was missing until the body was discovered!" Mark replied in his defence.

"Save it, Dr. Danvers, Save it. Tell all you want to tell in the court. Besides, that is not the only proof we have. We have asked your neighbours about your whereabouts on the night of the murder. Some of them say you two returning late at night, and as per their description, that is just after the time of the murder.” 

“Also, while scanning Mr Davis's room, your fingerprints and a piece of paper with both of your names was found. When we questioned his colleagues, it was revealed to be his handwriting. He wrote in that way in a hurry. So, I guess that enough proof for us to arrest you two." The Police laid all the information in front of them.

"All this is BULLSHIT. We did not do anything like that. All this is a lie." Alex was on the verge of a breakdown. 

She made a motion to grab one of the officers' collar when Pooja grabbed her and stopped her from doing anything that would make matters worse.

"No Lex, you won't. Don't make matters worse, I beg you." Hearing Pooja's plea, Alex calmed down.

"Dr Mark Danvers, Dr Alexandra Walton, you both are under arrest. Kindly follow us." The police officer said in an almost ruthless voice. 

Alex was about to intervene, but Mark grabbed her hand. 

Ethan laid a hand on Mark's shoulder and assured, "We promise we will get you both out before they can present you before the court. We promise." 

Mark turned around, gave him and Pooja a one-armed hug. Alex too, hugged the both of them, and then the two went away, holding hands all the time.

After the Police had left, Ethan and Pooja sat down on the couch. Never had they imagined that this would be the beginning of their morning.

"How the freaking hell did this happen? They are innocent, we know they didn't do anything." Pooja was breaking down again.

"Yes, we know. And now we have to prove it. We need to find evidence that can free Mark and Alex up. Something which can prove their innocence. We need to check Miles Danvers's private clinic. That is our only hope." Ethan answered.

 The two of them hurriedly got dressed and set off to the second address. 

The address they had never checked.

It took a good 35 minutes took 3147, Rainy Day Drive. The day was cloudy and grey, and the street looked gloomy but less terrifying as compared to last night.

 Ethan let out a dry laugh and said, "One rainy day brings us to Rainy day drive." They looked around to locate the clinic. But where they arrived appeared so broken and messy that it was obvious that it had been through a lot.

Taking a look at the status of the place, and thought of Pooja's condition.

"Rookie," Ethan said.

"Hmm?"

"I am going in there."

"Of course. I am going in too. Wasn't that why we came here?" Pooja questioned, surprised why Ethan was stating the obvious.

"No, I said I am going in, not we, Poo."

"What the hell do you mean by that? You are trying to say that you are going to that place alone? Is this really the time to play jokes, E?" Pooja charged, angry and worried.

"I am not kidding, Poo. I meant every word."

He cupped her cheeks. 

"Rookie, please try to understand, okay? My priority is and will always be you. I can't let you get hurt in any way. I will go there first and check if everything is alright. If all is clear, I will send you a text. Then you can come in." Ethan tried to explain.

"And if everything is not clear?"

"Then I will search alone and keep you updated if I find anything."

"You mean that I should leave you alone in the fire?"

"Poo, I am just going to check. This place is so old, I don't think there will be any trouble in there. But I promised that I would protect you at any cost. See it just as me keeping my promise."

"But what if-"

"No, what-ifs. I am going. I will check and update you soon. Promise me you won't go in until I tell you too."

"But Et-"

"Promise?"

"Ethan, List-"

"Promise?"

"Fine, Promise. But in case you see any trouble, text me at that moment. I will come running."

"Promise, Rookie, Promise."

Before Pooja could say anything else, Ethan had already walked into the dilapidated building. So she had nothing else to do other than wait.

While waiting, Pooja tried to arrange all the information they had in her mind. She started surfing the web to know more about Mr Davis and the 2011 scam he had supposedly conducted. About 100 people had lost tons of money in that scam, and it was pointed out that since 2011, Mr Davis started living a rich life. He said it was from his inheritance of his dead uncle and a promotion, but now, it was obvious that it was all the money from the scam.

What a criminal! Only if he had got caught, maybe then all the hassle, worries and pain that entered their life without as much as a precaution, could have been avoided, Pooja grunted. Her heart grieved on remembering Mark and Alex. "They don't deserve this.", she thought.

She checked her phone and, Oh dear! Thirty minutes had passed by, but there was neither any text nor any sign of Ethan. She was worried sick. But she had promised, and Pooja had been known for keeping her promises. When she promised something, she always fulfilled it, no matter what. 

Suddenly her phone lighted up with a 'Ping!' making her aware of a new notification. She saw Ethan's name light up on her screen, and without even glancing at the text he had sent, she rushed into the ruptured clinic.

Once inside, she looked around. The place was dark, had a look of a horror house and smelt sickening. Pooja turned on the flashlight of her phone and began to look around. She sensed something was eerie. She presumed that the moment she would walk in, she would see Ethan.

But the place was soundless. Her heart thumped with panic.

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me? Ethan, please reply I-I am scared. ETHAN!" Pooja screeched but met with silence. Dismay and agony made her feel weak. She sat down on her knees and began weeping.

"Now is not the time to breakdown." Pooja thought to herself and urged her body to stand up. 

"Keep calm, Keep calm for Ethan." She reiterated the words in her mind like a prayer holding her up.

Suddenly, she recollected that she never checked the text Ethan sent. She opened Ethan's text, but it did not read "All clear".

It read, "MiD To."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? MiD, MiD, MiD..." Pooja thought harder and harder, overlooking everything, only focusing on the letters M.i.D.

"MiD, MiD... Oh, hell!" It struck her like lightning. "MiD is M-Miles Danvers. Oh my god!"

Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing jolted her out of her thought process and spread an alarm through her body. She hoped, desperately for it to be Ethan.

But she saw that it was an unknown number. Her first thought was to ignore it, but then she wondered, "What if, what if it is Ethan? Trying to reach her and tell her where he was?"

She acknowledged the call. "Hello?"

"Ahh!!" A hoarse voice uttered from the other end. "Dr Sharma, is it?"

"Who the hell are you? I don't have time for any of your shit." Pooja fumed.

"But you surely have time for Dr Ramsey, don't you?" The man implied with cruel amusement in his voice.

"What the-? How the hell-? Wait, are- are you Miles Danvers?"

The man let out a menacing chortle, more like a crackle of a witch. "Oh, yes! I am. And don't worry! Your dearest boyfriend is here, in my utmost care, and under my most watchful eye."

The humour in his voice went away, and a nerve chilling sinister voice revealed, "If you want to save him and your dearest best friends, come to the address I am sending you as soon as possible. Don't you dare ignore this call. Well, unless you want them to rot and die. Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha."

PS: If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead!

Tags (Please let me know if you like to be added or removed) :@bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey  @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage  @drariellevalentine @mvalentine ​ @aestheticartsx ​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers ​ @ao719 ​ @choicesstan1 @arnikki-2406 ​ @neotericthemis ​ @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight

#pixelberry choices #my fanfics✒ #choices stories you play #choices oh #open heart #choices open heart #choices stories we play #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan x pooja #pooja sharma #alexandra walton #oc : mark danvers (oph) #lex x mark #choices the stories you play #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #open heart mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanart #open heart fandom #choices #ethan ramsey #oh ethan #oh mc #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #detectives by chance

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#rehab #alcoholism #alcohol tw #sam #recovery #sobriety