#so to stop myself from going in any more debt than i already am..... the possibility of any essays from me are very small

[todayisafridaynight]

YEAH........... YEAH..... LIKEWISE, NO NOTES AT ALL, THAT'S EXACTLY IT... Main antagonist deaths are often treated as "comeuppance," but that would be the ultimate comeuppance for Aoki. As it stands, the only people who actually suffer for it are Ichiban and Jo, and Ichi didn't even do anything wrong. Also please I'm positive there's more to wring out of Aoki and Jo for an essay 😭😭at the very least, I always love to hear your perspective!

"he'd made a social circle for himself where people predominantly liked him for the power and influence" <- incredibly Mine-core of Aoki btw (I also feel the rest applies a little in terms of Mine probably being very quick to write off people who Do care about him as not caring about him, as with Katase, but it's nowhere near the extent of the Arakawas)

Wait actually it's kind of funny... for both Mine and Aoki, I was so sure their endings would go a certain way. Mine and Kiryu'd fight Richardson off together and Ichi'd, I don't know, shield Aoki or hug him so Kume couldn't get to him in the first place, or after that INSANE direct parallel to Arakawa running to the hospital with Masato, he'd miraculously pull through like he did on New Year's. Tormented with visions of the better timeline... With Aoki in particular, it makes me want to tear my hair out because the moment of him choosing to put the gun in the locker was REVOLUTIONARY for the series, looking at the characters he was most heavily based on.

Anyway. Bottom line. These bitches need to hug it out. It was so evil Arakawa didn't hug Ichi at Omi HQ or on the waterfront like bro stop being """manly""" for five seconds you're ruining my life you're ruining your own lives

There'd genuinely be nothing more painful yet more satisfying for an antagonist than being confronted with the consequences of their actions and having to navigate life after having making those decisions, ESPECIALLY when it comes to mending the bonds that- for anyone else- would have shattered long ago. With Aoki being motivated by the want to be loved and appreciated for himself, it would've been nice to see him finally acknowledge that he did have that love and start to better himself as a result (however much he'd be able to while in prison anyway lmao).

The Mine and Aoki comparisons are so real though, I remember joking to myself about it days after beating the game but it just fuels my mental illness every time I think about it ☠️ I LEGALLY AM NOT ALLOWED TO GO OFF ABOUT THE Y7 ENDING I'VE DONE IT TOO MUCH it makes me so mad every time I think about it 😭 ESPECIALLY THE PARALLELS WITH ARAKAWA AND THE LOCKERS UGGGHHH IT COULD HAVE BEEN SUCH AN EPIC CONCLUSION WITH THAT... Arakawa running from the lockers at the start of Aoki's life compared to Ichiban running from the lockers and getting Aoki to the hospital so Aoki can restart life I'm Going To Kill Someone (myself) (in Minecraft)

#snap chats #theres a note here about aoki's self hatred and ergo his inability to believe people could love him without 'worth' #and some kind of. I Dont Know occurs that comes with aoki accepting that love and ergo At Least Tolerating himself #and again becoming better as a person as a result. not WHOLLY you cant undo Everything Wrong With Him with one therapy session #but itd at least be a start and thats far more than anything else rgg has given since like. ryuji in dead souls #but w/e i- as per usual- have the vocabulary of a walrus so we're just gonna have to imagine i said something profound #AND THE LACK OF HUGGING IN THIS FRANCHISE IM GOING TO STAB ALL OF YOU. IN MINECRAFT. #with the power of delusions and this like seven-year-old wacom tablet i can fix that...... #it'll never be enough it'll never fill the void in my soul but it'll be something i guess #BUT UGH NO SORRY IM JUST MAD NOW #nothing in my life has ever genuinely triggered anger in me than the y7 ending its just soooooooOOOOO #IT WAS SOOO CLOSE TO BEING PERFECT I CANT #im going to give myself a blood clot thinking about it anymore i feel my heart stopping Do Not Call An Ambulance I Cannot Afford It #so to stop myself from going in any more debt than i already am..... the possibility of any essays from me are very small #my ability to use words is near non existent. i feel like a right ninny sometimes #in any case im not sure what else i could expand on that isn't restating what you've said #cant ever be upset with bein on the same wavelength tho it gives my inarticulate ass a helluva easier time trying to explain LMAO #plus im petrified of trying to interpret anything from the english dub or english subs #and looking into language use is Very Much important when dissecting abusive relationships #i guess there's always just talking about general actions committed and not inspecting the exact words used #idk.. at the very least ill rotate the concept in my head and then fend off the urge to eat my teeth #i'm gonna throw up.... im still thinking of it........ gonna make an unrelated-but-arguably-related post in like three seconds #dont look at it its cringe

[milayawr]

Stolen Pieces (Part Two)

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Part One

Summary: Sturmhond gives you your first mission and you find something that catches his interest.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,914

Notes: Feedback is always welcomed, lovelies! And I think this will turn into a series, but I'm not sure how long it will be. Sorry if there are any mistakes.

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You were off your mother's debts. It felt like a fever dream or some incredibly perfect written fairytale, but on the contrary, it was very real. First, you thought it would all be gone when you woke up and you'd be living your miserable life but you were assured when you actually woke up to the real world.

This morning you woke up with the sounds of waves crashing on the ship of Sturmhond, Volkvolny. So that was the moment you finally understood that they all really happened, and you were all right, except for the fact that the owner of the ship wanted you to work for him. You didn't know what you were going to do. You asked the Shu girl, Tamar, but she had said that only Sturmhond knew his plans and thoughts. He was a complicated man, and you already knew you would have a hard time with him.

So here you were in his quarters, waiting for him to do something besides observing you. You were preferably waiting for a good speech. He only hummed to himself, and it made you crazy. This man was an unbearable piece of shit that had helped you. You were grateful and all but… Did he really have to be this annoying all the time?

"Am I gonna have to wait for you to say something?" You said when you lost all the little drops of your patience. He stopped humming and looked at you in the eyes. "I can go if you'll keep looking at me like some— Anyways, just talk." You stopped yourself from saying any inappropriate word to him because that would probably cost you to lose a job before earning it.

"Like what, Sweet Y/N?" He asked softly, curiosity living in his voice as he spoke.

You didn't want to say anything but since he asked you just answered. "A pervert."

He frowned as the word left your mouth. "I think I have more honor than a pervert, but that's all right." He left the desk that he'd been leaning on and came closer to you. Every step of his made your heart beat wilder— you could even hear it in your ears. "I was thinking about the job I was going to give you. Asking myself if you could handle it, but I think you can handle it very well."

"I think you should have thought this the night we met." You said and he laughed. His laugh felt like rays of sun after a rainy day, and you could see a rainbow over there when you tried to picture it in your mind. It was a beautiful sound to hear.

"Okay then," He took a deep breath. "I want you to be my spy." You looked at him with a confused face. "What? Everyone has them these days, so why can't I?"

"I never said that you couldn't. I just don't understand why me. You really see a spy in me?" He was just a delusional stupid pirate. Did he really claim he saw a spy in you? He was definitely wrong.

"Well, you stole my money while most of my crew was on the ship, didn't you? Also, you stole many people's money and never got caught. So, yes, Milaya, I saw a spy in you. Maybe not the best, but still, you can be a good choice."

You didn't know what you should give a reaction to, the way he really wanted you to work as his spy or the fact that he called you sweet girl?

You talked when you made a decision, "I was a thief, not a spy."

"Semantics."

"How come?"

"Well, you see, a thief steals money and a spy steals information. Same thing, different handwritings." He smiled to himself as your expression changed into something more relaxed. He was kinda right, you thought. "Look, I hate to do this, but I paid your debts, and you will be twenty without any money to pay to a red-haired bastard. You owe me this position."

He was right again. You owed him and saints you didn't know what to do because being someone's spy scared you in a way you've never felt. It was a tough job to handle, and you were experienceless.

"I'm not sure about being a spy. Don't you have another job for me?" You started to pout as he shook his head. "Then maybe I— I can go?"

"You don't want that. It will cost you another debt. I don't want to force you, but this is not how you negotiate."

You hated him for being right, and you hated yourself for being stupid and asking stupid questions. Just accept it, a sound inside of you said.

You took a deep breath and answered, "Okay, I can be your spy, I guess." He clapped his hands once, and before he had a chance to speak, you opened your mouth to speak again, "But only if I can decide what I am going to do. I won't go on any mission that will probably kill me. That would be foolish for both of us."

Sturmhond looked rather excited by your decision. "You think I would do that to my one and only spy?" He took your hand and give it a small kiss. "We will be a great team Y/N dear." Then he went to his desk and handed you a paper. "This is the guy who promised me some kruge, but I think he's trying to scam me. I want you to go to his place and take some information. Such as his possessions, family, and secret lovers— if there are any. It's very easy."

You read the name of the guy— Jurren Clasen said Sturmhonds perfect handwriting. You've heard him before, you knew he was rich but you also knew not as Pekka Rollins. Maybe there was a moment you had to steal his money, but you could not recall.

"Are you going to threaten him with the information I'll give you?"

"What would you do if I said yes?" He huffed when you gave him a frown. "I'm not gonna threaten him, I am just trying to understand if he ran out of money or just dumped me."

You released a deep breath. "Fine, I'll go tonight?"

He nodded, "Tonight's fine."

"Okay."

"Okay." He mimicked your word as you shoved the paper into your pocket. You didn't say any other word as you head for the door. "Any information that will give his financial situation will do, Milaya."

Again, sweet girl. You rolled your eyes as your heart reacted to the stupid word. "Understood." You said before you left.

You decided to read the note again. There was only his name and address. There were some rumors about Jurren Clasen and Jan Van Eck, the people had claimed that they started to work together in some way. You knew that Jurren was not powerful to be in the Merchant Council, so you thought maybe Jan Van Eck was only using him— If the rumors were true, of course.

You went to the quarters that you shared with Tamar since you had nothing to do, and you didn't know anyone in the crew. You had no one to talk to or spend time with. You just had yourself as always. You knew that you were all alone since your mother died, but it wasn't a problem. People always get used to loneliness until they get sick of it. You weren't sick of it yet, but you were afraid of the day that you will.

It made your stomach turn. The idea of losing the will to live scared you. You had to find a branch to hold on to and erase the thought of a rope to hang yourself to. The will of living was in there, you just had to dive in and rise it to the surface.

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It was deadly dark. It reminded you of the night you met Sturmond. It was practically yesterday, but it felt like it was ages ago.

You found your way as you tried to trust the dark. The outside was cold and it made you shiver. No one was awake as you expected. You only hoped that he was not in his study room.

You felt like a ghost who hides beneath the shadows as you climbed and reached the window of Jurren's study room. Carefully you looked inside, feeling relieved when you saw no one. You opened the window with the little knife you had. You and the knife had a special bond because it was with you the whole time you've been a thief. It was sad that you only trusted the unanimated things.

The moment you were inside the mansion, the time stopped. As quiet as a mouse you started to look for something that would work. He had said any information, so everything was what you were looking for. Just find anything and go.

Quietly you searched inside the drawers. You tried to read every piece of paperwork and his notes. After checking all the documents that you could find you turned your eyes to the desk. You looked into the notebook that lay there. It had plans and arrangements for his works. That should do, you thought. You opened it without giving any harm and started to read it. You understood every word except for one— Jurda Parem. You had no idea what it was but it sounded strange to you. So you noted it on the paper that you brought with you. You would probably forget the word if you didn't.

When you heard voices you hurried up and left everything in their places. You, fortunately, had time to go outside before they got into the study room and unfortunately, you could not see who they were.

The next stop was Volkvolny. You never looked back while you ran. You slowed yourself when you reached the harbor where the ship waited for you. Your breath got stuck in your lung because of the run and you needed air more than anything. The thought of it would've been funny in another moment.

"You're back! Fantastic." You heard his voice when you stepped on the deck. "What did you find out?" You needed to catch your breath so you didn't say anything and gave him the paper. "Jurda Parem? This sounds interesting."

"You know what that is?" You asked.

"Not exactly, but now I will have to do my homework." He checked you for a moment. "Anything else?"

You gave a brief moment to think about everything you've seen. "He has a wife but no children, but I guess you already know that. I don't think he has a secret lover because his diary is full of his wife. He has another house near the University District and his bank is full of kruge according to the documents in his drawers."

"So he did not suddenly become poor. Why does everyone think that I am a fool?" He muttered to himself and you couldn't help but reply,

"Maybe because they think stealing and saying aarg is the only thing that pirates do?"

His expression changed into a frown. "I am a privateer, Milaya. Please don't make me repeat myself."

"Good night, pirate."

You heard him laugh as you walked away. His laugh was indeed beautiful to the ears which listened.

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#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #grishaverse fanfiction #grishaverse #shadow and bone #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader #fanfiction

[sysmedsaresexist]

So, an interesting message was passed along to me and I'd like to talk about it

Thank you to the user for letting me post it <3

(none of this is at the user, btw)

I would like to think that when you typed this out, you realized how silly it sounded. I have so many questions, and I'm... Worried for people. This isn't the first time, by a long shot, that I've seen this kind of statement. I see it almost daily on my Twitter rounds. I see things that are so much worse, and things that are so much more subtle and insidious. This sentiment is so ingrained in the system community.

I'd like to first ask... What do people who think this way believe "disordered" looks like? Is it only the people in straightjackets and padded rooms? The people in hospitals? The people on disability, barely getting by? The people that are bed bound and have given up?

How do you think those people got there? Typically, it starts with what you've described.

Story time. Bear with me here.

When we ended up in the hospital the first time, we were working full time, engaged, paying rent and paying off debt in our own apartment. We were also unmedicated, exhausted, unhappy, and confused about why we were so... Broken. Why everyone could figure it out, but we couldn't. I loved my system, I would have already been dead without them.

That doesn't mean I didn't need any more help. Just because I was functioning, didn't mean I wasn't inherently dysfunctional. I was just as disordered then as I am now.

I saw the future, full of exhaustion and frustration, and I hated it. I would rather have just... Not. I'm lucky that I'm Canadian and that our health care system has better access and coverage. Not everyone has the same privilege that I have. So I checked myself in, got on medication, got therapy.

I had more energy, I was powering through life now, married, college loans paid off, saving to buy a house, I got a promotion and a raise, but the meds had the side effect of making my anxiety and OCD worse. I finally snapped. One of my alters had spent the night scrubbing at the same spot on the carpet that we had been scrubbing EVERY night for the last few week. The next day at work, I said to myself, "why am I taking this medication?" That was it, back to the hospital I went, checked in, re-evaluated, and on a new medication, and back in therapy.

Now I'm still tired, but not as tired, my anxiety and wildly fluctuating emotions are (mostly) under control. I have good days and bad days, good weeks and bad weeks. I'm still functioning, and I'm still dysfunctional, and I'm still disordered. And that's not a bad thing, it's not my fault, it's not my doing, and it's not always related to being a system. It's fixable, it can get better. I can be better. My life can always be better.

In what world is what you're describing NOT dysfunction? In what world do you NOT deserve help and resources? Are you playing Disability Olympics with yourself? There are people worse off then you, so you must be doing pretty damn good? Is that as good as it's going to get for you? Are you way more functional than those miserable DID systems? Because on my meds, it sounds like I might be a bit more functional at this point than you.

People start off like you, saying that they're just fine, totally functional, couldn't possibly be disordered, and it wears and it tears and it beats you down until you become what you think dysfunction looks like. Meanwhile, you were always dysfunctional, and you were always deserving of help.

When did we, as a society, decide that miserably getting through life, day to day, WAS the functional norm? When did we decide that disorder is only for the worst of the worst types of dysfunction?

The DSM certainly never said that. It says that disorder doesn't always mean distress and dysfunction, but society decided they were synonymous. You saying you're not dysfunctional or disordered is like saying people don't deserve therapy unless they're suicidal. You know how you stop people from getting to that point? Early intervention.

We don't do this with other disorders (at least not to this extent). If someone is depressed, we believe them (usually). We don't call them functioning depressionists and say they're not disordered. When people with depression go on meds and get therapy, we don't call them cured and take their diagnosis away. Why is DID treated any different?

Why do we ignore that clinicians say that disordered doesn't look like anything? It looks like you and me and everyone else who needs a leg up to be on even ground with other people-- to compete in life to the best of our abilities.

Dysfunction will come and go, some days it'll be better, some worse, but disorder is forever, and it's a label that protects me for when things get real bad again. For when I decide I need more help and I'm struggling-- be it tomorrow, next year, ten years from now.

Please note: this post isn't to push anyone to get a diagnosis-- a diagnosis isn't required to get any kind of help, and there are many valid reasons why people might decide against getting a diagnosis. Whether someone is diagnosed or planning on getting diagnosed is none of your damn business. The point of this post is to talk about the stigma around relating to the diagnosis of DID/OSDD, and how dysfunction and distress might present in more subtle ways than we typically think.

It's about how being disordered, or considering yourself disordered, isn't a death sentence.

#syscourse #actuallymultiple #actuallyplural #actuallyosdd #actuallytraumagenic #actuallydid #did #osdd #dysfunction #endogenic

[hoperays-song]

Sing 1 Commentary and Review Pt. 3

Welcome back to the madness loves!!! Also, I tried to tone down the commentary so I get further in the movie this time. Is this an elaborate plan to distract me from my fic being with my beta reader? Yes! Am I using it for content? Also yes! Enjoy!

Yes, I am trying to restrain myself more this time, it's hard.

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

Guys, guys, guys, here me out here... I think Barry minds.

Also, headcanon I'm not sure I ever mentioned on here before but the reason Barry minds Johnny taking his spot isn't jealousy of being passed over but because he didn't want his honorary nephew to have a larger role in the gang than he already did. He was trying to protect him.

HERE. This is the moment where Marcus confirms they were going to stop stealing after this last heist. They were legit only doing it out of necessity because the needed money.

(aka my debt theory is going strong bwahahaha)

Ok but the way Marcus looks at Stan and Barry when Johnny storms off, just his face of "that's weird right? or is it normal teenage angst? what's going on?" is so funny. He's so lost.

Also, I genuinely believe that Johnny might have been planning on telling his family about the singing here (he comes back much later but seems still really hyped up like he was getting the confidence to do so) but didn't when he was given the role of getaway driver. Even if it was just for one job, it clearly made him feel way less seen as a person and like he was a disappointment for not fitting into the mold of who he thinks his father wants him to be (the queer metaphor is still going hard I see, lovely).

👏 Relationship👏  Counseling👏 

Engineer Rosita My Beloved!!!! <3

This woman definitely has at least two masters degrees in mechanical engineering because the machine she made is something out of Willy Wonka.

So... there either were intake forms where they all listed their talents and Johnny put down a skill he hadn't done since he was little or... Buster legit just asked this teenager to learn an skill that takes years upon years of training in like a month. For some weird reason, i'm leaning towards the latter and Johnny having experience is a coincidence.

Horrified Punk Rocker™️

I completely forgot that Meena wrote out what she was gonna say to Buster on her hand. I love that and I will be including it everywhere.

Also, unrelated, but Buster is on his second felony of the movie right now and we barely are passed the 30 minutes mark. Not to mention the numerous misdemeanors.

And, the workshop where they build their props in apparently on the second floor according to Buster. That seems like you're making more work for yourself with all the moving up and down but, you know, you do you.

Mike puntable moments counter: 19

He really does not think things through does he?

Lance puntable moments counter: 17

Dude, she's your girlfriend, for fucks sake, be supportive!!!! It's not rocket science over here!!!

Johnny making fun of his dad and exaggerating his accent will never not be funny to me. He's acting like a regular teenager, not a gang member, and it's both adorable and hysterical.

Judith has arrived!!! We love characters who are actually just trying to do their jobs here. Like imagine being the bank representative assigned to Buster freaking Moon. You'd be pissed off too.

... Gay. That's the only commentary I can add here. That's very gay.

Gunter, the chaos enabler, Rosita, the chaos handler, and Caspar, the chaos.

You just know as soon as Caspar got home he was begging him mom to let him hang out with the fun dance guy again.

Johnny's over here going through the nine stages of grief about his singing career.

Also, do we know why Johnny was called away this time? Because they weren't planning any heists in between the one we have already seen and the failed one to our knowledge. So, was he actually called back because of something to do with the garage? It would technically be a family business thing then after all.

Ash, I am so sorry. About everything you go through in this movie. So sorry. You get adopted by a crazy guy and an old rockstar by the end of the next movie if it's any comfort (probably not but worth a shot).

Also, their apartment is huge!!! How are they affording that when struggling to find and keep gigs???

Lance puntable moments counter: 27

I am once again reminded that the mob canonically exists here and Mike thought cheating them was a good idea?!?

Mike puntable moments counter: 23

The last moments those poor flowers had. RIP.

The dramatic music that appears whenever she does is honestly amazing. And I love how she just seems to despise Buster on principal here.

But the fact that Eddie's grandmother knows Buster? And a fair bit about his life? Eddie has definitely mentioned him and also Buster went to Eddie's graduation!! That's so sweet, you know he was one of those people who make huge posters of their loved ones faces and their degree.

This, my lovely gentlefolk and assorted cryptids, is what a bad idea looks like!

Ok, we have arrived to the failed heist. Now personally, I would have just pretended to be sick so that Buster would have let me go without worrying about the show. That way my role in the show would be safe while I would also be out of debt, win-win. However, that's clearly not what happened here.

I stand with the fact that this could have been easily avoided but I do not solely blame Johnny here. He's a kid. Kids make mistakes all the time. He just made a mistake. Was it a bigger mistake than a lot of people's? Yes, but it was still a mistake. He is not at fault here.

As for the gang, smart move on their part to immediately surrender. That way they lessened their sentence by not resisting arrest. Also, Marcus looks genuinely worried when he realises Johnny is not there, and I completely understand that. He has no idea where his son is and there's police everywhere, he's bound to be panicked.

Rosita is amazing. I love her, she's so sweet.

Ok, genuinely forgot about Gunter and Rosita's fight at the dress rehearsals.

Also, Mike puntable moments counter: 25

Ok, I feel like we missed a part of this conversation. We jump right to Marcus asking where Johnny was and looking pissed. I can almost guarantee that that conversation did not start like that. Marcus and Johnny are shown to be close, despite their communication issues. He's going to be upset, yes, but he's still gonna be worried about his kid. Marcus definitely asked if Johnny was ok or arrested or sick first.

Also, ouch. This scene hurts. The overall message of familiar rejection for you just trying to be yourself, of who you actually are is not good enough? It makes me sob every single time. This is just insanely painful.

(Yes, this is a central part of Johnny's story being queer coded and as someone who had a similar situation happen when I came out, I'm just saying it's very realistic).

Then the stealing bit afterwards being reference for pushing yourself into who others want you to be to feel love? And Johnny choosing even then it's better if he is his actual true self? Amazing, perfection, true cinema.

This is the emptiest grocery store I've ever seen in my entire life. Seriously. Is anyone other than these two there? I'm guessing a cashier but I don't see one.

Also this security dude is an amazing hype man, just cheering and blasting music.

Buster, stop encouraging kids to commit felonies. I know you're on three now but seriously man???

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND GAVE THIS GREMLIN A BLOWTORCH?!?!?!?! ARE YOU TRYING TO DESTROY SOCIETY???? Also, Meena and Buster were renovating the theatre at the same time as Johnny was practicing with Mrs. Crawly. I completely forgot they were there at the same time?

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This is taking way longer than I thought but hey, it's time consuming!

Be back in a few (these take a bit to edit sorry)! - <3 Gooseless

#sing #sing johnny #sing buster #sing marcus #sing ash #sing big daddy #sing stan #sing barry #sing the gang #sing rosita #sing norman #sing meena #sing mrs crawly #sing gunter #sing judith #she's just doing her job guys. that's not a villain that's an employee #that should really be a trope at this point #johnny's story is in fact a queer allegory. or at least can easily be interpreted as one #i will post the video that explains that pretty well/ my own post about that as soon as my to do list shrinks #sing eddie #sing nana noodleman

[lookmomiwrite]

I Was Paid to Stay Awake for 15 Days. Here’s What Happened.

Nothing.

Nothing Happened.

I don't mean that metaphorically nothing happened... As in, there were no consequences, good or bad, for breaking the previous record by 4 days. No, I mean literally nothing happened. Time stopped. Reality became empty and meaningless.

According to the researchers, I fell asleep for 15 minutes at exactly the 15-day mark but for me, that moment lasted much longer. It's hard to explain but my body and my mind didn't experience the nothingness. It's something I felt inside of me. Deep down in whatever makes up my existence. It was as if the rules of reality that we all abided by broke down and everything stopped... and then I was awake again.

As if the agony I endured to reach the 15-day mark wasn't bad enough, what came after is something I wouldn't wish on anyone.

I guess I should explain. About 6 weeks ago, I was approached by a trio of researchers on my college campus. They were graduate psychology students who were studying the effects of no sleep on the human body and mind. They were recruiting volunteers for a new study in which the subjects would undergo treatment to help them stay awake longer. Their ambition was to create medication that allows people to stay up weeks at a time without any negative consequences.

It was a grandiose goal and perhaps dangerous for the people volunteering but they were paying $400 for each full day we could stay awake. As a broke college student, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Tuition was due soon, I was already months late paying it, and I already had $50,000 in student debt.

A few days later I was scheduled. I would be staying in their lab while they monitored me 24/7. The first couple of nights weren't anything special. I've pulled all-nighters before at LAN parties with my high school buddies. It wasn't until the 55-hour mark that I started to slow down. I was given a few pills that would help me stay alert. They told me I'd have to take them every six hours for them to be effective and with life-changing money on the line, I was willing to do anything.

The rest of the study was a blur. It's hard to remember the details, what I did to stay awake. Did I do any experiments to test my cognitive ability? Did I even interact with anyone? It's too hard to remember now and it doesn't matter anymore. I'm too tired to think about it.

I don't remember the nothingness but I can still feel it. The emptiness won't go away. It flows through my soul. It's not something I can easily explain to someone who hasn't experienced it. It feels as though I'm no longer connected to myself as if I've moved beyond my physical body but it's hard to tell what reality is. I haven't slept for quite a while now.

Eventually, the experiment came to an end and my experience left me delirious and confused. A doctor checked my vitals and thanked me for volunteering. I was handed cash, $6,000 right in my hand. If I hadn't been awake for 360 hours, I would have done a little more than a small smile and nod. I was then escorted back to my dorm room so I could finally rest.

I fell asleep the second my body touched my bed. The sleep deprivation hit me hard.

I had the worst nightmares since I was a child. I dreamt of ethereal beings stealing my very existence. They came from somewhere beyond this world to ours to fill their own. I woke up at 9 am drenched in sweat. Dreams were always weird and this was no exception. I thought it was just a coincidence that I had the same feeling when I awoke that morning that I had at the end of the study. I'm not so sure it was a coincidence anymore.

I couldn't stop thinking about the nightmare for the rest of the day. I've always heard that we dream of experiences we've already had. Sometimes it might be a movie you watched, a book you read, or maybe a random encounter with a stranger. There was always a familiarity to dreams; although, they always seem absurd and completely illogical. That dream, that nightmare, felt too real. It was hard to stay focused.

The next night I went to sleep early. My roommate was getting back late from a weekend trip and I wanted to get a head start on sleep before his rustling kept me awake.

I had the same nightmare. This time, the ethereal beings seemed hungrier, as if they had a taste for a new, exotic meal and wanted to dine on it once again. I could feel myself being ripped from my sleeping body despite my attempts to wrench myself free.

I became aware of a shadowy figure staring at me beside my bed. I tried to move with every ounce of strength I could muster until finally, after what felt like minutes, I was able to pull myself from a deep sleep. It was my roommate. He told me that I was screaming in my sleep and flailing. I even put a hole in the dorm room wall.

I used to have night terrors as a kid so I didn't put much thought into it, after all I had just recently been awake for 15 days straight. There were bound to be some lasting side effects. I pushed it to the back of my mind. There was nothing too abnormal about it.

Unfortunately, I had an exam coming up and I wasn't prepared. The terrible sleep from the previous two nights and the sleep study left little time for me to learn the new material. I decided I was going to pull an all-nighter or two since I didn't want to fail this class.

My study session started off normal but as the day came to an end I became increasingly drowsy. I was fighting off sleep when I started to hear soft whispers coming from the hallway just outside my door. They were loud enough to disrupt my studying. I wanted them to stop. I would get up to see who was standing outside my dorm but each time there was no one there. I would go back to studying and soon after the whispers would return. I tried to put on headphones but they only grew louder.

I began to hallucinate by the following morning. At first, it was just inconspicuous shadows in the very corners of my vision. Just visible enough to be mistaken for a fly or some dust floating in the air. As the day drew on, the hallucinations worsened. Small shadows turned into figures hiding within the dark recesses of my room, whisperings amongst themselves. I thought it was just sleep deprivation. That I just needed to get some sleep. I wish I listened to my instincts. I wish that the feeling of my hair sticking straight up would have alerted me to the danger I was facing. Maybe it was the lack of sleep clouding my judgment. Instead, I slept. I needed sleep if I was going to pass my exam the next day.

Another nightmare. This time I was in my room. The ethereal beings hovered over me with ghastly smiles as they began to steal whatever it is that makes me, me. I fought to move. I poured every ounce of power into my body. I commanded every fiber of my being to wake. My eyes opened and I was met with the familiar sight of my room. I laid there paralyzed, only able to move my eyes.

I watched as a shadow in the corner of my room began to grow, swallowing the light that passed through it. A void of nothing devouring its surroundings. It felt too real to be a dream... It was real. I could tell - somehow. When it reached me, I could feel it penetrate my skin. I felt it pressing against my body, suffocating me with the weight of nothing. I tried to scream but I couldn't. My lips were sealed and my words compressed in my mouth, unable to find a way out.

And then as quickly as it started, it stopped and I awoke.

I haven't been asleep since then. For a while, things seemed to get better. The whispers and hallucinations went away within the first couple of days. I began to think it really was my sleep-deprived mind playing sadistic tricks on me.

I let my guard down.

They came back... the voices. The hallucinations too. Whispers and laughter turned into screams and cackles. I was engulfed in a cacophony of wails and guffaws, a relentless torrent of suffering. The shadows grew nearer until I could feel them crawling along my skin, itching for a way in. They were always looking for a way in.

I'm trying to fight it but every hour I stay awake I get weaker and they get stronger. I know that if I sleep now, I might not wake up again. My only choice is to never sleep again.

I don't know what's happening but I do know that you shouldn't follow my path. If you stay awake too long, you'll experience nothing, just like I did. Don't experience nothing. Because when you experience nothing, nothing experiences something. It won't stop until it has something. It won't stop until it has you. It won't stop until it has me.

I'm writing this as a warning. Whatever I did, it broke the barrier between our world and theirs. When I'm awake I drift into the realm of nothing. When I'm asleep, they invade the realm of something.

It's been 14 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since I last slept. I don't know what will happen to me if I stay awake any longer. I just want it to stop. I can't sleep anymore. Not unless I want them to come back and steal my existence... I just hope nothing will be better than this.

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

I write horror, fantasy, and sci-fi and will be posting multiple times a week!

Oh, and don't forget to reblog this and follow me! I want to share my writing with as many people as possible. :D

Hope you enjoyed it!

#horror #writing #short story #creepypasta #creative writing #paranormal

[goldkirk]

my goals for august:

• buy a mattress for the first time!!

• pick a bed if I have enough money this month

• get new legal documents

• report the problems from my psych admission in 2020 to the hospital even though it’s super late, so they just actually know. doesn’t matter if any of them care or change anything, just want to do it for me.

• listen to 8 new music artists on my catch-up list (1 is already done, Pearl Jam. Listening to Pink Floyd next)

• have someone forcibly go with me to the endodontist to get the over a year old root canal done and make them not tell me anything else about other teeth until that’s done so I don’t straight up leave and never come back

• learn what annual physicals are and find out if my new primary thinks if I actually should do them

• get a lot more post it notes and whiteboard stickers for notes to myself and just go ahead and put them everywhere for the moment

• get more than 38 hours of sleep every week for at least 3/4 weeks

• make a poster board that’s just the daily flow chart for work so I can stop trying to hold onto the three remaining shreds of that memory and just give up and use the external instructions for a while

• bake a congratulations for escaping a cult cake for myself and put sprinkles on it

• go to ONE group social event (or something like a museum group I guess) before it’s the end of the month. Have you considered a support group or hobby group ever in your life future me??? bc you should

• figure out strategies for food hoarding fixes and sort that shit out fast before it compounds too much in the new place

• avoid any and all thought pathways or questions about anything triggering during work hours like the plague, so I don’t pile on unnecessary spirals or flashbacks

• KEEP TAKING ALL THE MEDS EACH DAY JFC THEYRE EVEN IN A PILL BOX IT CANNOT POSSIBLY BE EASIER AND YET THERE ARE STILL SOME LEFT EVERY WEEK. PLEASE EXPLAIN, ME.

• stop. eating. so. many. brownies. stop. it’s not fun treating yo self anymore. it’s alarming. there WILL be brownies in the future the world will not stop having cosmic brownies for you to access I s2g me. i can see you have something to prove to yourself by compulsively buying and eating this very specific food that was like The snack food echoing through childhood. but like. Christ, dude. lay off the brownies. please for the love of everything. there is no way this is helping. there is no way you should be eating pre packaged processed snack desserts as often as this. i am literally begging you to make one pan of beans again. why in the world are you tired of beans they’re the only healthy thing you know how to cook HURRY UP AND GET UN-SICK OF THE BLACK BEANS AND STOP EATING COSMIC BROWNIES THIS IS JUST EMBARASSING, ME 😭

• try to do some beginner art tutorials from YouTube in sketchbook and on dollar store mini canvases

• get thank you letters sent that have been simmering in a sauce pan in the back of your head for months

• get pooh bear and the old glass lamp n stuff from the storage unit and finally put them in your apartment

• I have no idea how many things are in this list, sorry people, I’m on mobile and can’t put a read more so I’ll keep it short

• write a one sided index card explanation of why I’m not ready to talk to therapist for now that I can just hand someone if it’s suggested

• start making a poster board chart for various flavors of dissociation so I can pinpoint the right type faster and then just see the instruction for what’ll help and hopefully save time

• somehow make a physical copy and two more digital copies of the family event and situation records I’ve started keeping so I don’t just lose them someday if I get hacked or forget a password. consider sending a copy of what I have so far in a folder or mini binder and sending it to a safe relative for one more layer of protection

• talk to actual financial counselor about debts and about the right rate I should fill the safe-place-to-land money account for the niblings if I’ve only got 3-5 years max

• write a small script to tell the boss and my daily coworker a bare bones but honest short explanation of what I’m coming from and how it might affect my work for this coming year and to please let me know early if they start feeling like I’m slacking off or if I’m not as responsive and on top of things as I’m supposed to be, so we can all avoid frustration and repeated cycles of increasing boom-bust stress because of my current natural tendencies

• log things more often

• get physical sunlight on actual skin at least once every two days

• go outside for an Aoife walk at least twice a day even if it’s an ongoing fear response the whole time. No excuses. It shouldn’t matter if other people will think you’re weird, your dog needs walks. Also you need walks. Also you need people. You are like five days away from full agoraphobia and that’s gonna be a no from me dog. Sincerely, not quite agoraphobic but definitely never wanting to leave the building again past you

• Say nicer things to myself. I’ve gotten really, really mean, I haven’t been this cruel to myself in a few years and it needs to stop. If I catch a thought consciously, I’m going to attempt to build a habit of immediately having to say one nice statement too, related OR unrelated, that’s compassionate instead.

• catch up on four people or groups I’ve completely not responded to in ages without explanation and apologize before August is over. Four is better than 0, which it’ll be if I don’t ever actually just start somewhere and let myself keep being tired and afraid

• get a second tally clicker to track how many times this month I’m actually not scared or on edge

• test the phenomenon about my light sensitivity being shockingly super different on that one drug and jot some notes or a little log to bring up with doctor later if it’s helpful or if I have questions

• talk to someone to see a physical therapist for my left knee BEFORE it gets actually injured. Make this the first time you ever listen to the signs before something is actually wrong-wrong, figure me! come one you worked really hard to learn to start recognizing what sensations are supposed to mean “pain” rather than just “sensation type 16374” and you’re working really hard to actually pay attention to your body when it has a sensation that’s supposed to be pain. That’s a lot of new neural wiring, bring it all together by connecting it one more step to make a whole brand new highway next to the old one. You can do this. Do it please before this knee is properly fucked, you can’t bank on having several years before any bad injury, you know now that’s not how bodies work and you could just get out of bed wrong and tear it if you’re at just the wrong angle and level of strain, get on top of this and it’ll be sooooo good in a few months, I bet our knees AND feet and hips will ALL feel stronger and more fun to move on if you do!!!!

• go to that one free yoga session so I actually see some people living here and get social time

• practice ducking and hunching less when outside around people

• get a psychiatrist over here and get all my meds switched over

• go fishing with Margie again before her school starts and take her somewhere fun with me

• bake Margie a cake

• paint a cardinal picture for Aunt P

• start writing letters to G even if I’m not allowed to send them and write them for the other kids too and decorate a special box to keep them all in

#to do #oh no what else have I put in the to do tag lately I better check #personal

[ginshariboy]

21 and 31?

21. A boss that was disappointing

Post-Overnerf-Pre-Nerf-Fix Radahn - Elden Ring

bear with me i know this sounds like i'm waffling given i said i enjoyed the radahn boss fight in a previous answer. also apparently the internet has deemed radahn content to be like cringe or whatever and they stomp their little baby feet when you talk about the Radahn Nerf either because they are mad that he's no longer too hard for normies or because they're annoyed someone is talking about radahn so ??? damned if you do damned if you don't lol but anyway it was still early into the era of elden ring and by the time i got to him, i had already heard oough radahn difficult, but also knew of the nerf. but i, a fromsoft baby, was like there's no way a nerf can save me from myself. i even set up a stream because i thought oh surely me getting my cheeks clapped severely by this boss will be entertaining. i go in, i beat the guy in one go and i'm like oh. hm. i still think its a cool setup and all that but the second time around after they fixed it was a lot more satisfying than the first fight.

Literally Every Boss On Easy Mode - Silent Hill 2

i'm not one to knock easy modes but i personally regret going through silent hill 2 on easy mode. the abstract daddy in the very tiny room sounded like it was going to be ass because i heard it hits hard so i said oh jeez this is the end and i think it took like two shotgun shots to kill.

My Fucking Debts - Animal Crossing New Horizons

2020 may have hurt me irl but i was thriving in animal crossing!!! i used to do the stalk market every fucking week for months on end and i think i ended up with like 32 million by the time i stopped so needless to say i was an unstoppable force when it came to paying debts off. it even got to the point where if there were too any flowers/weeds in a spot, i'd just rip a resident's house off of the ground and put it down on top of the flowers/weeds to destroy them then i'd move the house back to where it was.

31. Someone has never played a video game before but is open to trying any genre. What game would you recommend as their first?

i think overall it depends on the person but narrative or party games seem like a good way to introduce people to video games. narrative can backfire if they end up being like Why Am I Not Doing Shit because turns out they wanted to like. idk kill. but there's usually a lot less pressure to perfect mechanics before you can get anywhere so they probably won't get frustrated in that sense. party games also don't tend to have the most complicated mechanics and its usually nice to try something new with other people also participating. easy entry, still fun.

#ginshariblog #asks #long post #and we're back to videos for visuals but this time its my favorite relevant memes / shitposts

[creativebrainrot]

once again I am online thinking incoherent thoughts.

theres a weird almost-mourning of moving on from this house? I don't have anything to actively mourn about moving on from this chapter. I never loved my bedroom- it was just the only safe place I had. I won't miss the bathroom I've taken so many showers in. I've cried in that room more times in twenty years than I ever should've cried at all. Also its so fucking hard to keep that room clean its disgusting. The "living room" has been, nothing, my entire life.

I won't even miss this town- first of all because I never liked it in the first place. Second of all because it's changed so much that I already miss what I used to love about it. The orange lights over the quiet streets as my dad and I came home from grocery shopping on a silent night when I was little, has been gone for years now.

I'm not losing anything except debt and memories of abuse. I am more than happy to leave that behind you would not even believe.

It's like I want, or expect, to be afraid? To be scared? But I'm ready to be scared about "normal" things. I'm ready to cry because I've been overwhelmed by my new found freedom. im ready to cry myself to sleep again, because I've realized im finally free. I'm ready to suffer through unlearning. I'm ready for the hardships of finally, finally, moving on.

When I was 10 I had dreamed of going to college and moving out by the time I was 23-ish.

When I was 12 I saw my father withdrawn from me. Stop caring about me. Stop trying, with me.

When I was 16 I experienced "Bleakness" for the first time in my life for a few months of the new year. I was resigned to nothing getting better.

When I was 8, I had my first suicidal thoughts. You read that correctly.

By the time I was 18 I was so sure, in the back of my mind, that nothing would get better. That my dad and I would have to ghost out to an apartment some miles away. That we would struggle. That it'd be only slightly better than living with our abuser. I was so ready for the rest of my life to be mostly me wandering without a guide or any idea of how to be human, barely making anything work.

I was so certain that I would wander around aimlessly without a single idea how to feel until I died.

we've been given a second chance. I'm ready to suffer through healing. I'm ready to be afraid through new dawns I never imagined.

I don't know what I'll end up liking for long-term income, but I have some ideas.

I'll finally have the room to even be allowed to feel fulfilled. No one will ruin it for us anymore.

No more debt we can't even conceptualize. No more abuse that lasts an entire year after the fucker killed himself. We're free. I cannot wait to meet myself again, on better terms in a much better place.

#rotthoughts #creativelyrottedmind #open journal #suicide mention #tw suicide

[crazycookiemaniac]

In case anyone would bother to read this post...

I am extremely embarrassed and ashamed to do this this. I am also 100% aware this is just one more in many many others cries for help. In no way I want anyone to feeling sorry or obligated to do something for me if they aren't willing or aren't in any condition to something.

If you don't know me already, people call me Cookie. I'm a fan artist, not super talented or special or anything but I've made a living off commissions for years, as drawing is the only thing I've ever been interested in my life. Aside from that, I do not feel capable of learning or studying anything else.

If you've known me and followed me for a while, you know that I suffer from what I'm suspecting are now multiple mental illnesses and also some physical conditions. I have saught treatment for years, but my condition only worsened as I attempted su1cid3 last year and had to stay at a psychiatric hospital for almost two months. When I came back, I was completely unable to draw, and it was most likely due to the medication.

I spent a while longer with my psychiatrist and decided she didn't really understand what was going on with me, since the last mediation she prescribed wasn't even for my original condition and (as a side effect) made me isolate myself in my room for almost a month. I stopped eating, drinking water, showering and taking care of other basic necessities, as well as interacting with people.

After that, i consulted myself with 2 other psychiatrists, and none prescribed me anything to calm me down during severe panic/anxiety/sui1c1d4l crisis. So I had to look for another doctor and straight up told him that if he didn't do something to save me, I was going to k1ll mys3lf. Because I would, I'm serious, I've searched everywhere including the deep web and I know what works and what doesn't. So he prescribed me really strong medication (the one I actually wanted him to) and I'll be taking it every day for 15 days so we can go from there.

I could write an entire book about my feelings and the stuff I've gone through until now to try and take care of myself, but in the end I'm really just one more story. Nothing about me stands out and I'm not more important than anyone else.

It's pretty obvious I'm writing this because I'm ready to swallow all shame and embarrassment to ask for donations. I don't care if it's just 1 cent. 1 cent is more than what I have, anyway. Of course, the money would be used for my own debts... I didn't want to ask my family for help so I ended up getting 2 loans from the bank expecting that I'd be able to function properly again sometime soon, but in all honesty I doubt I'll ever be able to call myself an artist again.

I also want to issue a refund to all the people who commissioned me back in late February (2022) that haven't gotten any updates from me due to my health issues. As much as they have been extremely kind, patient and understanding, I can't leave them hanging on when I don't even know if I'll be able to draw again... At least professionally.

And lastly... I want to eventually pay back my mom for all the numerous doctor appointments and ridiculous amounts of expensive medication she had to buy for me, especially since most if them didn't work in the least.

I'm tired of living. I'm tired of trying. I feel embarrassed having to write this, as I feel embarrassed of almost everything I've ever done in my life. I'm sorry you're the people I turn to when things get like this. I only have my family... My mom has limited amount of money but said that she'd sell our house if she needed more money to pay for my treatment. My older sister has some money, but she worked hard to save it for years to buy her own house. My other sister doesn't currently have a job and also suffer from mental issues (making the toll a lot harder on my mom).

Social media is how I grew as someone with a least a level of importance. If people around the world can

somehow feel like this is an important thing enough for them to share a couple cents, that would really mean a lot to me. In no way I am expecting to pay off all my debts and give everyone a refund like I mentioned...

It's just that, for the past year, I have become a huge burden to the family I love very much. I do not believe it's their responsibility to pay for the consequences of my actions. I also don't believe it's a stranger's responsibility to do that either. While I do consider the internet my second family, people come from different backgrounds and I don't know all of you personally. I know it's very hard for my family to deal with me every day, but I may not be as big a burden to you than I inevitably am to them.

All I know is that it hurts me and makes the pain so much more intense to see my mom being financially responsible for me when I should be able to take care of everything myself. It hurts when she brings food to my room when I can't get out of bed. It hurts to hear her ask me to please try to shower when I have no energy to do so. It hurts when she says 'everything will be okay' because I know it won't. So in the very least, if at all possible, I would not like to take her hard earned money. She is my mother, but she is not responsible for my mental disorder.

This is a very personal note. I'm sure people are used to reading, gossiping and intruding (even if unintentionally) on other people's lives like that. But I feel lost. I have no ground. Money is an issue no one can shake off.

If you feel inclined to help me deal with my current situation, please consider donating to www.ko-fi.com/crazycookiemaniac. The money, as I mentioned, will go to refund commissioners, pay for bills (card, doctors, medications). Even if I get anything I'll most likely not get enough to do everything I need, but if by any chance there's any change left, I'll try buying my mom a mother's day gift that I failed to buy since I didn't have money.

In return to your favor, due to my mental health issues, I unfortunately can't promise anything... But I will try to keep drawing. Because that's what I do, even if it's not good, and that's why some of you follow me for.

Thank you for reading this far if you did. If you feel any of your followers would consider sharing this or donating, that would be much appreciated too 💖

[survivingthelonelylife-blog]

Woe is mine and I am woe - Part 5

Wednesday x Enid

AO3 link to full work

End of the semester

My phone vibrates again, stupid thing, never stops going off. 

I should probably thank Xavier, but I know he had other motives for the gift. 

Also, it has given Enid a continuous and direct line of communication in which she never ceases to use. Daily texts, 3am TikTok’s, weekly facetimes, it’s agonizing. 

We haven’t spoken on the night of the movie, but she never runs out of other topics to drone about. Besides a few stolen moments of glances and brushes of our hands she hasn’t said a word. I have begun to think I imagined the whole event.

The only thing keeping me aware that I haven’t gone insane is that I can remember the feel and taste of her lips pressed on mine, that and the hope that going insane would be more enjoyable than this existence of dull uncertainty.

More buzzing, this time not from Enid but that pesky unknown contact, too cowardly to admit themselves. It is interesting to have a stalker, a constant unseen eye following my every move. They keep me apprised to my own interactions by sending more photos of me to myself every few days. 

At first it was intriguing but now I am beyond bored of this charade. Any attempt to get information from them has been met with silence. I have yet to tell anyone but thing, and he only discovered by snooping, I should have broken some fingers after that stunt, but he begged and having him in my debt works in my favor.

Enid has invited me to visit her in San Francisco for two weeks and I couldn’t resist the temptation and the chance to see what it is like to literally be raised by wolves. 

Mother and Father’s excitement when I told them was disgusting enough to nearly change my mind. But instead, here I am on my way to the train station, I refuse to be surrounded by idiots trapped for two hours on a plane, a decent torture, when I can take a three-day train with my own cabin, giving plenty of time to work on my next instalment of my book. Knowing Enid, I will be left no time to write while I am there.

Enid is waiting for me with her parents when I step onto the platform. 

After some polite introductions we are off to their house. Enid told me it’s out of the city with a huge yard and near a forest, typical for a family of werewolves. 

She warns me that her 5 older brothers are all going to be home and that they are even more obnoxious than they act at school. As I suspect, the house is fairly overcrowded and messy. Not an overwhelming amount of color, that is until Enid opens her bedroom door.

As the only girl she has her own room. Small, almost like it used to be a walk-in closet turned bedroom, but the walls. 

I hold back a gag, bright pink and green smear hit you right in the face. 

There is color everywhere. Not a single surface is any shade of black. She motions me over to the pulled-out cot and apologizes saying she will sleep on it, and I can have her bed. Not a chance. 

After setting up my stuff Enid pulls out a black blanket still in its bag.

“I got this for you, you know, so you had something dark to use.”

I smirk and accept the blanket, taking it from her, my hands right on top of hers, I look up and she is already looking at me a small smile hidden on her face.

“I’m really glad you’re here Wednesday.”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t take your incessant begging any longer.”

Enid giggles and that old wave of nausea comes rushing back, hitting me almost as hard as the paint colors. A sharp knock at the door and Enid quickly drops her hands and steps away from me.

“Girls, dinner is ready, come eat.”

By the time we get down to the dinning room the boys have already dug in and are throwing food at each other.

“Sorry, meals are kind of a madhouse around here.”

“It’s fine, and I assure you having meals with my aunts at the asylum have prepared me for almost anything.”

“Wednesday, Enid, come sit over here. It’s so hard to hear anything of the boys and their ruckus.”

“So, Wednesday, tell us about yourself.”

“Someone once said I have an obsession with all things dark and creepy. That sums me up better than I dare try.” I sneak a small glance at Enid as she tries to stifle a laugh.

“Yes, Enid has told us about the events of this last semester-“ 

At this I look up and catch Enid’s eye as she gives me a small head shake and looks back at the table- “and I have to admit I am not overly thrilled with the danger you have put our daughter in, but we have decided to look past that all seeing as she is mostly alright and that it finally got her wolf out. We’re so glad that Enid is finally able to participate in our family traditions.” 

Enid’s mother grabs her chin and smiles at her with a weary look.

“Yep, I finally get to fit in with my own family…great.”

Enid avoids making eye contact with everyone and uncomfortably leans away from her mother’s grasp. Wolfing out is all she wanted to do, to be a part of her family pack, why does she look so miserable at her mother’s feeble attempt at joy.

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday x enid #wenclair #wenclair fanfic #slow burn #woe is mine and I am woe #jenna ortega #emma myers

[uglylittlegoblin]

Overtime Burnout, My Theory of Motivation Debt

Working theory of why I can't bring myself to Do Things at work anymore.

I work 55 hours per week, minimum. That's just my schedule. In at 7am, done at 5:30pm, expected to remain working through lunch, expected to be "on-call" 24/7.

Full-time work is 40 hours per week. Any time worked past that point is considered "overtime" and, by law, should increase hourly compensation by 50%. However, I am what is called "Salaried Exempt" meaning that I am not entitled to overtime pay, no matter how many hours I work. To be fair, it also means that I get paid the same amount if I work fewer than 40 hours and I technically have unlimited PTO (that I am discouraged from using).

I used to run out of steam (lose all motivation) right around 2pm each day, when I had been at work for 7 hours. This makes sense to me, because a full-time day for a 5 day work week is 8 hours, so there is just one unmotivated hour each day. Perfectly normal.

However, at that point, I still had 3.5 hours to go (unless I was being asked to do an extra event after office hours, then it would be more like 7 hours to go).

Then I started losing motivation at 1, at noon, at 11, at 10, etc. until I just... stopped being motivated.

My theory is this: I have been prepared to bring 7-8 hours of energy to work daily, and no more. By forcing me to use more than that amount of energy, my employers are building up a "motivation debt" that they do not intend to pay back with either money or time off. I have been in this position for 3 years, so their current motivation debt is roughly 637.5 hours, or roughly 27 working days.

If I were to take a 4 week vacation, the "motivation balance" would be restored. However, there is no way that my work phone would remain silent for those 4 weeks, and they would go back into debt immediately when I return by 2.5 hours, and the accumulation would begin again.

They could increase my pay or make me an hourly employee without changing my hourly rate, however there is no monetary value that will increase my motivation (despite what many think), or to make up for the lack of freedom I experience, especially if my future is an endless march of long ass work days. I would need to be paid enough to retire in the very near future, which is highly unrealistic.

As I am not receiving a month-long vacation or a pay increase, I am cashing in on that balance by not working while at work. This does not actually eat into the balance, however, as I am still a captive in this building, at this desk, for 10.5 hours each day. The debt they owe me is far too large to ignore. It weighs on my mind as I consider all of the things that I cannot do and haven't done so that I could sit at this fucking desk for an extra 3 hours.

I'll need to think more on the special flavor of anxiety that comes with being constantly on-call when I'm already working too much. The things my heart physically does when my work phone makes noises while I'm at home cannot be good for my health, mental or physical.

#antiwork #anti work #anti capitalism #fuck capitalism #motivation debt #capitalism #labor #yes I am writing this while at work

[entities-of-posts]

There is a package in the Archives. Well, it was dropped in the lobby with a piercing screech of a train going too fast around its track.

A cardboard box simply addressed to "The Archivist, and its Allies in Québec."

Inside, is a smaller box, a book wrapped in several layers of paper, and a letter addressed to The Archivist, sealed with wax, the symbol of a skull and cobweb pressed into it. It reads:

"Apologies that I cannot deliver these in person. Or properly introduce myself as an ally, so I may not be attacked in this predicament if I do show. Though, if I have done this right, She Pulls The Strings will not know of my aid, as Where We Go has moved my hand here, likely in the guise of something else.

Enclosed in this package is two things taken from my personal collection of items, I hope you and yours will find use for them. One, a tool quite useful for severing Strings covertly, and two, a book of poems. They cause disorientation when read aloud. Unfortunately it is indiscriminate as to who it takes effect on, as it is everyone within earshot apart from the reader. May be useful as a last ditch escape. I have refrained from plucking strings in your area as to not give Her any information, so I do not know your situation.

However, as Where We Go has been guiding me, it has not stopped me from seeing the high count of death and Changes in the area. I noticed an oddity. I do not know the identity but their strings of fate/death, as the two are indistinguishable, they are frayed. Death or Change may come for them soon, if they have not already done so. There is a loose string to you, Archivist, nonphysical, simply metaphorical, so I know you have at least met them in person. As for the future, I unfortunately cannot know much without gleaning attention from Her, but I am sure when the time is nigh, I and my own will do what they can.

I do wish you luck, Archivist. For all that is worth.

Sincerely,

Riley Schecter, The Fateweaver."

The paper wrapped book turns out to be a Leitner. A recent one, at that. A copy of Shel Silverstein's Every Thing On It. It radiates confusion even before being opened.

The smaller box reveals an antique seam ripper, handle carved from wood, patterns of cracks burned into it. A smaller, typed note reads "Do NOT use on normal fabric and thread." next to it.

Hmmm… the Brown Recluse is enigmatic as ever. Death and Change happen quite a lot around here…

Those gifts do seem like they could be quite useful, though. Especially…

*the Archivist holds up the Seam-ripper, Examining it closer.*

Not exactly a perfect solution - needs active tension in the Strings to cut, and must be wielded quite carefully to avoid severing other types of Threads - bonds, fate… or the fabric of reality. Still, it may be worth the risk…

*it Looks at its hands, lets its Eyes unfocus just so to see the silky glimmer of Strings floating from it. One wrapped around its right pinky - a Favor still owed. Another on its left ring finger, entwined hopelessly with one of the two red Threads tied there.* *it hesitates. The latter is far too entangled with Di’s Thread. It won’t risk it. Foolish, nostalgic, maybe. Maybe. But she deserves better than to be so callously cut away. It would be tearing out a chunk of its own heart.*

*the former, though. The Favor. It’s a more delicate one, delicate enough to break after truly being pulled on, hard to See, harder to pin down* *carefully, it tries catching it in the Seam-ripper’s pincer, but there’s no tension in the String - it’s not actively being used, after all. It’s only an IOU. For now.*

*it somehow doubt it’ll get the time to pull the tool out, next time Madison tries to call the debt in.*

#statements #the Fateweaver

[forvalkyrie]

in a very real ranty session pls ignore – i just want to get my thoughts down before i go berserk (also uhh depression trigger warnings – just dont read if you wanna not get depressed).

i just hate the job market i really do

i graduated with a masters this past summer and i've yet to find a job. i''ve had TWO PHONE SCREEINGS – theyre not even interviews, they're straightup just SCREENING. no specifics about any one job, just asking me general questions like im doing a check up.

i just... i have never been so mf depressed and ive been mf depressed before and that was a scary time in my life. in any case, i had like a mental overload earlier this week where i lowkey hyperventilated, crying my ass off. i feel like im a failure for even getting this masters– which btw was an accelerated masters meaning i finished within the year.

i feel both under and overqualified for jobs. my last job, i made a certain amount, and both these under and overquilified jobs either make wayyy below what i used to make or are above but aren't hiring. TODAY i just checked one of my apps on the company site and MIND YOU, i applied yesterday. TELL ME HOW AND WHY the position is now filled/closed.

i don't have like any money – i can barely pay my own damn rent since my savings wasn't supposed to be lasting me forever. my sisters help me more, like offering grocerymoney or paying for a portion of my rent, but my parents are just– idk man. they are not parents atm.

i feel like a true failure and i just don't know what to do about it. im legit trying not to cry atm because i already freaked out yesterday but listen, im not tryna become god or the president or anything but i thought i'd be more than just... hopeless. everytme i draw, it feels boring and empty. when i was in school, i stopped graphics because i wanted to relearn drawing and creating art again but even that's being taken away from me.

i'm watching feel-good shows and re-watching oldies but every part of me is like... punishing myself for taking a break? yesterday i told myself i was gonna stop mass-appplying to jobs since i had that mini breakdown but my friend sent me a link to try to apply to. today, she asked me what departments ive appliued to – her position is very low on teh totem pole so i doubt she could get me a job– but yet thats when i saw that the positions i applied yesterday are already filled.

its depressing to hear for 100 jobs out there, 80% are FAKE and within the 20% left, you'd be lucky to get 2 interviews. i dont wanna lower my wage standards cause ya girl gotta eat too but goddamn. entyr-level positions want 10+ exp for some reason and jobs with certifications– listen, i was gonna try for the certificate until i read that you literally need this type of work experience for you to even APPLY.

spoke to another of my friend who said i should jsut appply to these lowtier jobs and get some money but like... i am so sorry, i have so much school debt that you want me to work minimum wage after just getting a masters? i would much literally rather kill myself (not before making sure none of my siblings get the brunt of my loans because its not their responsibility).

there is nothing good in life. nothing good in this capitalist society.

#dont reblog pls #i mean i think thats obvious

[shadendesire]

I hate this. I hate having broken down. And still feel like I am crumbling. Everything else seems so much more important and all the little things blow up to massive problems. I have zero energy, & cannot tell what is my physical problems (which I have to keep track of if I am going to monitor my disease without regular doctors appointments) & what is in my head or entirely made up. I slept for 13 hours yesterday (nearly it Saturday). I barely managed not to sleep for much more. If I had not had the game I would have. And that caused me to feel like I was an absolutely shit player.

I puked my guts out right in front of everyone in the house Saturday. It wasn’t quiet or discrete like I try to keep them when others are present. It was a hacking, coughing fit, that I am still experiencing coughs from. The fact that there were at least 6 people in the house moving things around, packing up, disassembling everything did not help in the slightest (especially as that much dust can totally screw with me). The fact that the juice I had gotten when walking home Friday went quicker than expected did not help (and I hate my brain for thinking if I drank it all or if it just did not get replaced). Which spirals me to the worry over my funds being dry for the next month or more because of shitty doctor, managing the one trip I can allow myself this year, repay the debt I owe both friends & bill companies/apartments, both counting pills and trying to stretch to cover for insurance to kick in, and being a burden/worthless/unwanted. And I know all of this is blown far too much out of proportion, not to mention ridiculous. But I still cannot stop it. Just like I cannot stop the thoughts of me feeling pushed into the room or out of the apartment while it all went on, & unable to have spoons to try and be sociable or help even if I did not feel that way.

And then when I did manage to wake for a little after the sleep I fell into fitfully after the game I could not find my mouse, come to to find the apartment deserted and bare (reminding me too much of the past few years selling off everything I own or having to discard it), and going to put my stuff up and finding my chess set had been damaged when things were being moved around. Yes I have it delicately fixed, but with it now like this I am scared to even consider using it anymore. It’s older than me by many years or decades, and even considering the thought of putting it away seems ridiculous. I know it’s nothing special, and even where I got it is tied with shitty memories, but it is one of the few things I always adored. Even if I no longer have the mind for it.

But with today I worry if I have even a body much longer. I still just want to sleep, I have not eaten much or kept it down since I broke last week. I am altering wildly between too hot and cold. Running a slight fever & the thought of drinking tap water nearly turns my stomach. Which itself is volatile in general & made worse by whatever smell is emanating from the fridge & broken freezer. Which in all the chaos of packing is apparently being overlooked of needing to clean out. And is the one thing I know I cannot manage to do myself (why I always kept mine so low stocked since everything began).

I know I should go to the doctor of one kind or another, before my body sends me to the emergency room. Or at least tell someone. (Especially since it took an effort to even bring myself to be on social networks, and likely am signing back off after this. They don’t provide any relief in a state like this and even make things worse. And I am just so tired already) But goddess knows what already all of that tells me back to everything here.

[talenlee]

The All of 2022 Wrapup

New Post has been published on PRESS.exe: The All of 2022 Wrapup

In January, I wrote out a plan for the year. In that plan, I described types of articles I was going to make, and kind of like ‘caps’ on the types of subjects I would write about. I also promised to watch more anime, which was like a threat, I guess. I also mentioned the eventual Avatar update, that would serve to bring presentation on a lot of platforms in line.

Knowing that, then, how’d I go? What were the good bits, the pieces of 2022 that I think, now, you should go back and check out (and I will go back and check out myself when I’m browsing the blog looking for ideas I want to further expand on).

Big, long-term projects included a daily Magic: The Gathering card, released at first on a twitter account every day, and now being posted on Mastodon and Cohost. Those got a set of summarising posts. I also did a podcast with Fox about watching all the Disney Animated Canon movies, which we called the Disney Animated Canonball.

It was also at the start of the year that I stopped using an add-on for the blog called Jetpack. Jetpack let me do things like find out how many hits each individual page was getting, and that formed the basis of what I then, at the end of the year, would list as the ‘most popular’ stuff. It was useful to see what you thought was good here, rather than just what I liked, in hindsight. It sped things up. But I’m not using Jetpack any more, and that means that instead… I had to go through all the articles I wrote, and ask myself ‘hey, is this good?’ and ‘why would someone wanna read this again?’

Which means we’re going to look at a lot of links here.

This year saw me do a lot more to revise my world setting of Cobrin’Seil, with a lot of articles that reference or examine other elements of the setting. Back at the start of the year, I spent some time thinking about two ‘standard’ D&D cultures I dislike, the Dwarf and Dragonborn, and the problems of just ditching them wholesale. This led to the creation of two Cobrin’Seil specific cultures, the Dio Baragh and the (Cobrin’Seil’s Version Of) Dragonborn. I also looked at the Halfling, a culture that I originally wanted to discard because of its weird semiotics, but a friend was able to crystallise around a meaningfully interesting idea.

Being as I am a stickler for the question of ‘what’s with all these people-like-people and why are they different,’ I also wrote more about the human-like creatures of the setting. I wanted to look at the Elves and address the question of ‘why are these sub-cultural groupings all able to breed with humans,’ and finally wrote up a breakdown of the types of Elf creatures, and how they relate to one another. It was so big I did break it into a pair of posts on a weekend though.

This kind of thinking got me on a thread about ‘outsider’ cultures, though: the Orcs, yes, but also the way that D&D has a whole collection of orc-like things, as humanoids that exist Over There that don’t have a meaningful reason to be differentiated from orcs or goblins or kobolds. You know the list, the Bugbears and the Bullywugs and the Hobgoblins and Grimlocks and so on. Since I’d already defined the Orcs as having a pretty distinct culture, complete with muddy biological differences due to their relationship to raiding other cultures and the debt you owe to the dead, I eventually decided on the idea of the ‘Urd’ to explain the general forking tree of ‘non-human humanoids who do not relate well to the humanoid coalition.’ I want to expand on this a bit more, since it lets me play with one of the themes the setting does have regarding Deep Time, which is ‘back in history, people were even bigger assholes than they are today.’

Oo, and I also wrote up an article about the way legal power is handled in the Eresh Protectorates! I’m really glad I did that article because it both was an interesting exercise in accounting things that were ‘known’ in the setting, and doing it presented all sorts of fun, complicated and extremely annoying grey areas that players could wind up running around in. Since legal systems are the byproducts of countries, and Cobrin’Seil is a setting with multiple ‘country’ level things laid atop one another, that got me thinking about ways to document it — and that led to the realisation that I’m terrible at maps.

Finally, I also dedicated some space to present, in public, the Themes for the Knightly Orders of the Eresh Protectorates — which was something like four thousand words of just mechanical information and some setting details.

My ongoing examination of 3rd Edition D&D, in both its versions, gave me a lot to work with. I go into the garage, I pull out one of my 3rd edition books, flip it open to a random page and see what that asks and if it’s interesting. It’s a good, ‘completed’ form of the game to look at as a time capsule for an earlier time in gaming (just like 4th edition).

I spent a lot of time in my reflecting on 3rd edition thinking about ways the game fails the players. There’s the badly made Challenge Ratings system, the implicit racism of the weapon categories, the way that somehow worlds with gods that had feelings couldn’t really conceive of any use for Love, and I dedicated a bit of time to the weirdly anti-sex, consent-ignoring Book of Exalted Deeds.

There were a few character archetypes that 3rd edition let you play with. I looked at the Complete Books’ set of full-blown classes, and whether or not they were good (almost always, no). I showed you the basics of my own 3.5 class, the Adherent, which I still intend to put up on DriveThru at some point. I talked about the way that 3.5 made the fighter weaker and the Wizard stronger, the Supermount melee combatant that ran around biting people, the strange questions presented by the Soul Eater and its coincidentally contrary example the Ur-Priest, and the absolutely busto class, the Archivist.

In a more general ‘why do D&D worlds be this way’ I looked at the worldbuilding around alcohol, and assumptions made by teenagers making D&D worlds who do not, in fact, know anything about alcohol, one of the most broken (good) 2e swords interacting with one of the most broken (bad) systems of half attacks, the first time I heard the idea of ‘magepunk’ coalesced into a meaningful idea, and the strange mythological question of whether or not dragons can shapeshift into people.

4th Edition D&D got plenty of articles, but my favourites start with an article about how the Mount Rules in 4e were a step down from 3rd, and also, spent a lot of time not being hot garbage. While I was complaining about things being Not Good Enough from the edition change, I also complained about the Elan, a heritage of sexy weirdoes who were mangled by psychic outsider energies.

From there, though, I mostly looked at 4e in terms of offering ideas for how to run worlds, and ways to build within the space of those worlds. I talked about how 4e rules let organisations be more meaningful without necessarily being more powerful, about how to view a Warlock’s relationship to their patron, the ways you can consider the monster types for encounter design, variant class rules and the ways they both do and don’t fail the player, and of course, in Pride Month, an ongoing joke about memes about bi people, this time expressed as ‘dodge roll or die.‘

I did write about a bunch of my OCs, which I need to be more comfortable calling them. Particularly, I was proud of the writeups for Trancer, where I talk about the challenges of making trans characters and getting over the ‘but what if I do it wrong?’ impulse, Tideward where I just indulge in raw lovecraftian horror monsterboy, The 49th and her absolutely eyewatering build, Robyn Hoodie examining the mechanics of Traps and the social expression of heroism in the Rogue Isles, and Wild Hare, because she was inspired by fanart of an anime character wearing Megan Thee Stallion’s clothes.

I didn’t know it was the 30th anniversary of Star Control 2 this year, which meant that my decision to do a number of articles on things in that game was just a happy coincidence? I looked at the Androsynth (and the way their story went wrong), the Dnyarri (and the way they remind me of Emet-Selch), and then, veered into Star Control 3 to talk about the Clairconctlar, and how you get to play an Abortion Rights Chad in-setting.

While we’re talking about big sprawling games, though, I did a week focused on Final Fantasy XIV, a game I think I will always be able to complain about but which I also, again, keep playing, because I like playing it. Weird how that works. I did a writeup of one of my characters, Karash; I looked at the way the game depises alting, one of my favourite MMO practices; and I did a How To Be focusing on a character entirely because a friend loves her, and how when it comes to that character you’ve sort of got to invent your own material.

What if you follow me for my insights into Magic: The Gathering and its relationship to custom design? I did a piece on designing Partner cards, which need to advance the game and develop the play experience in interesting ways. I did another piece about my reactions to Neon Dynasty, which I still can’t believe exists. I also finally wrote up the idea of Inflexible, a designer problem we need to address.

Academic stuff this year? Oo, I talked about the way that objects carry their ideologies in them, which is something building on the work of Ian Bogost in Alien Phenomenology. I talked about the basics of Mythologies by Roland Barthes, because the man started with a whole conversation about Pro Wrestling. I also talked about the challenge of demarcation, a very real problem that I have to deal with when we’re looking at unfalsifiable experiences. I talked about how materiality of objects lets us share them and NFTs suck ass, and about the idea of the ‘blorbo’ and how they convey fundamental values about the entity just as being implied to being a thing to have.

There are some articles I think of as engaging to write; longer form ones that were worth digging into and which I knew would take some time to explain and which are worth reading as stories unto themselves, stories I find satisfying and interesting. This year, I did a bunch of those, and I think of them as ‘treats’ to have saved up to get a chance to write about, even if they’re on grim topics. These are articles that haunt me throughout the year, while I try to build up to finding the right time to work on them, to express them. Here’s a list of my favourites this year:

I wrote about my findings from a year of Not Being Subscribed To A Bunch Of Things

I wrote about Agent Garbo, the best Nazi Spy who never existed

I wrote about the way that phones have always been changing throughout our lives and the implication there’s a ‘normal’ way to behave on them is weird

I put together a long form version of a twitter thread about America, as explained by a non-American

I grappled with the way that the Buzzfeed Unsolved ghost hunting show gets worse and worse the longer it goes on

I reflected on what it meant to lose the Queen

I dug in deep on the story of Sodafunk, figuring that a year later, the realities of the situation would shake out, and the personal pettiness that got me interested

I revisited Baldur’s Gate 2 as an avenue for romantic characterisation and made fun of Anomen a lot

I also had some posts about single, specific things from media that weren’t the kinds of things you’ve got as major categorical sets on the blog:

I am somehow, an internet resource trusted on The Blacklist and maybe I’ll have to finish watching that show to find out how sensible that is

I talked about how Star Wars is a universe about owning stuff

You know the show Victorious? Well I’ve never seen it

What about the shipping opportunities in Ranma 1/2?

I looked at a favourite ship from the game Life Is Strange

There were major changes in World of Warcraft‘s historical content and people got weird about it

Iori Yagami is one of two articles I did this year about King of Fighters stuff

I got really into a Bible story this year now I had it reframed by a great lecturer, culminating in ‘oh those two dudes were fucking, right?‘

Oh oh and an article about Bleach – Kenpachi and Yachiru!

I also did a bunch of stuff as it related to representation of gender in media, and even as I say this, man, I should write more about how weird it is that Tali is straight, but anyway:

The transgender Azurills

The Au Ra and colonial views of gender

Care Bears’ trans elephant

Acid Storm, the genderfluid transformer

It’s strange to consider that there are articles I have here that are definitely just about behaviour that, in hindsight, is largely just on twitter, and everyone who’s left twitter seems to agree is bad, and should not be encouraged:

Don’t Buy Corporate Pride Shit

Google Slides Is Pretty Good

The Failing of Dunkology

Culture Not Found

Finally, we get down to the last two types of article, which are misc and heavy. I wrote about how I dislike the Fairy type in Pokemon. Because I love Ettin, I wrote about the way that Mass Effect’s culture of Asari are pretty much just sexier versions of D&D’s awful Beholders, because they both reproduce in the same fundamental way. I reflected a few times on the ways I relate to getting chores done, with a look at Thresholds and Habits.

I wrote a poem this year? About how I’ve learned about the behaviour of my dog, and the things that makes me realise I don’t understand about myself. Finally, I did go in on Alex Jones, and my sourcing on that, and the grim reflection on how I tried to escape one name, and wound up at another name that’s just as grim.

That’s it, that’s the year.

You made it.

If you didn’t make it, and you’re reading this, that’s really impressive and I’d like to hear more.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#2022Wrapup #Wrapup

#2022 Wrapup #Wrapup

[narastories]

November OTP Prompt Challenge - Harry/Nic - Day 23

Day 23 - Thankful

a night with you - rated e

Harry learns some introspection and self-awareness. Nicodemus is in a very generous mood.

I just wanted to write some uncomplicated smut. But you know with these two, you always need a 500+ word lead up before you can get to anywhere not-terribly-complicated...

I was kind of proud of not blowing this one. What I wanted to do was set both Mab and Nicodemus on fire, maybe Marcone too for good measure, then crawl into a hole never to be seen again.

What I did instead was I stopped to think about the rules of this game I was forced to play and about how I could change them. I know. Me, thinking. Ha.

Mab was yanking me around on a very short leash with the “parasite” in my head, who turned out to be no parasite at all and Nicodemus was going to stick a knife into my back if I let things get that far. So I didn’t, because I had no desire to break into any heavily guarded vault and because Mab would never have agreed to this whole thing had this not been a complete set-up for the guy who disrespected her authority. I understood her motivations on a certain level, but the risks to me personally were just too damn high.

I struck a new deal. Nicodemus helped me get Bonnie out of my head in time, and in turn, I warned him it was a trap. I was mentally prepared for him to want to go through with the heist anyway until I learned how he planned to open the Gate of Blood and understood the full depths of the shit we were in.

Man, I hated faery mind games.

Anyway, the operation got canceled. Or rather, diplomatically postponed until an unspecified time in the future which was the best outcome I could have hoped for. If Mab ever learned what role I had played in this, of course, she was going to skin me alive.

At least I got to spend some quality time with my subconscious, I guess.

“We’re even,” I told Nicodemus firmly when we were left alone in his penthouse. I could have phrased it as a question, but I wanted to make sure he understood I was not going to have anything to do with him, just because we decided not to kill each other this time.

Nicodemus chuckled. I didn’t know how he still looked so put together after the insanity and late nights of the past few days. I had sweatpants on and a t-shirt I just noticed was inside out. Meanwhile, he looked like he came straight from the theater or something.

“No, Harry,” he said, shaking his head.

A twinge of fear twisted in my belly. I wasn’t ready for another plot twist, dammit. Nicodemus enjoyed my facial expression for a second, before clarifying, his tone melting into pleasantness.

“I do not care about debts, but you saved my daughter. That is more than a little favor.”

That brought me up short. So what, he thought he still owed me? I cleared my throat awkwardly, not feeling like pointing out that he was the one that would have been willing to kill Deirdre. Just when I started thinking I had a grasp on Nicodemus, he would say something like that. It wasn’t normal. I blew out an explosive breath.

“Yeah, well my head would have exploded without a little expert intervention,” I said, shrugging. “Just.. let it go, okay?”

He tilted his head to the side and watched me contemplatively.

“You only know me as a ruthless adversary. I want to show you I am also a generous ally.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Nic,” I snorted, the familiar nickname falling easily from my lips.

I told myself I could never trust him. My subconscious self pointed out that I apparently did trust him enough to deliver my spirit daughter and it wasn’t complete torture to work with him. So what?

Nicodemus smiled at me.

“Name something you want. Let me give it to you,” he said, all easy charm like a businessman.

Another refusal was already on my lips, when a thought crossed my mind, uninvited. A voice that sounded suspiciously like my alter-ego pointed out that I had an itch that I could get scratched.

Nicodemus caught the subtle shift on my face, and for a moment I regretted that I let him poke around in my head instead of letting it explode violently.

“What is it?” he asked, pouncing.

I licked my lips. So maybe I learned that being in constant denial had consequences. Maybe while Bonea was carefully extracted from my head, the asshole who was the manifestation of my subconscious was giving me pointed looks because of a few repressed fantasies concerning Nicodemus.

“You cannot judge,” I warned. “Just…”

Nicodemus’s gaze was intent and eager.

“Tell me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling my cheeks flame.

“A night with you,” I blurted.

Admitting that felt mortifying. There had always been a tension between us that I didn’t dare examine too closely. But now...

“Look, I… I hadn’t noticed that I had an extra entity growing in my head because I was too afraid to look at my own thoughts. I have to start being a little more self-aware for my own good,” I rambled. “And I’m not a complete dick. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you might be interested. Besides you freaking pushed, it’s not like I was expecting more payment or...”

While I went on nervously, Nicodemus took a few steps closer to me. Finally, he raised a hand and cut me off with a finger across my lips.

“Done,” he said quietly. “No further explanation is needed, Harry.”

Oh.

His finger slid from my lips slowly, but it didn’t go far. He got hold of my chin and pulled me forward and down, his sleepy, dark gaze fixed on my mouth. I went willingly, curiosity overtaking me.

His lips were dry and soft, and he kissed me with sensual confidence. He shaved recently but there was no mistaking that I wasn’t kissing a woman. I got lost in the comparison for a while, the little details: his smell, his nose bumping against mine, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his tongue leisurely exploring.

I was completely out of breath by the time we separated. Nicodemus pulled me up the stairs, to the gallery where his bed was. He wasted no time pushing me down onto it. It was heavenly comfortable. I kicked off my shoes and sprawled out on my back.

Nicodemus followed me down, all predator elegance, caging me with his arms and kissing me again. I could hardly believe this was happening. And all I had to do was admit that I wanted it.

I made a soft sound and raised my arms to pull Nic closer. I heard the inner voice of my subconscious again, saying I-told-you-so.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t straight after all, because Nicodemus’s undeniably masculine body pressed against me was turning me right on. That was good to know, I guess.

I stopped trying to reason, and let my hands explore. His hair was soft, his back broad and sturdy, his arms all wiry muscle under his expensive shirt. He pushed a thigh between mine and I choked on a moan. Pleasure zapped me, making every coherent thought disappear. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this hard.

I pulled at Nicodemus until he pitched forward, reveling in feeling the lines of his body against mine. I kissed him hard until my lips were sore and he gave as good as he got.

Nicodemus shifted his weight, his lips traveling to my neck as he slotted our hips together. I spread my legs instinctively, giving him more room. We were still both fully clothed which only highlighted the parts where we touched skin on skin: his hot breath on my neck, his teeth, occasionally nipping the sensitive patch under my ear. I turned my head with a pitiful moan, giving him more access, my dick throbbing in my pants.

“So responsive,” Nicodemus murmured, voice low and rough. He shifted again and I cried out feeling how hard he was too.

Stars, that was something else, feeling his erection straining against mine. For a moment, I wondered if he had any underwear on because I was feeling the outline of his length so clearly through my sweatpants and whatever nice material his tailored trousers were made out of.

I judged his dick to be a little shorter than mine, but thick and hard and he clearly knew what to do with it. He was finding all the best angles to make me lose my mind. I imagined what it would feel like inside me. Biting my bottom lip couldn’t quite contain the whine I made.

I threw a leg over his, using it for leverage to rub up against him. I could feel his grin against my neck as he matched my grind, slow and absolutely filthy.

Sweat broke out on my forehead and I was making increasingly unfiltered noises as pleasure coiled in my belly. It was like the lead-up to a spell, the rhythm of our bodies like chanting, the building arousal like gathering energy.

I could tell when it peaked, the perfect moment to release all that energy, and felt no shame when I let myself go. I came, spine arched, pressed up against Nicodemus. The orgasm rushing through my body was sweet and surprisingly intense. Nicodemus worked me through it, shifting his hips in tiny circles while my dick twitched and soaked my underwear.

Eyes rolled back, floating on pleasure as I was, I couldn’t care much about the state of my clothing anyway.

“Stars and Stones,” I breathed, eyes still closed, voice rough.

Nicodemus’s chuckle rumbled from his chest to mine and he must have felt the way my heart was racing too. I got together enough energy to crack my eyes open. Nicodemus looked a little disheveled. It was a good look on him.

My erection hadn’t fully gone down and he was still completely hard against my thigh.

“Do you want me to…?” I mumbled, trying to sneak a hand between us.

Nicodemus didn’t let me, pinning me down with his weight. He mouthed idly at my earlobe, making me shiver.

“There is no need to rush,” he purred. “After all, the night is young and I am so very thankful to you.”

#my fic #november otp challenge #harry/nic #nara's dresden phase #harry dresden/nicodemus archleone