#and went into a mindless consumer mode

[nocturnowlette]

Update from the anon ask about my friend calling me a dog…I might’ve slipped accidentally when he started talking about popping bubbles and I barked…apparently he’s done hypno before and pretty much immediately guessed what was going on, and then played the fun game of “I’m going to guess your triggers!”

Long story short I now have a friend who knows everything and is using it to drive me insane (not like I don’t mind but uhhh)

Just I guess letting you know the conditioning is working you’re very good at what you do!

He went

Pop.

and you

Dropped.

I always like when it rhymes, lol.

Pop is one of my favorite triggers because it's so sudden. You have this concept in your brain, this big human thought. Even normal human thoughts get so, so big in your little puppy brain.

You feel the pressure of that thought start to build, filling into a cute, pink bubble. This bubble consumes that thought so Easily, and you feel it start to fill.

The bubble gets Heaver and Denser, continuing to fill more and more and more.

When it Pops, the thought just disappears. All Gone. Like it never existed.

The focus getting stronger on that thought, on feeling the bubble get bigger and bigger.

1.

The bubble growing so big, already so Fragile.

2.

The bubble absorbing your other thoughts, bubbles combining and stretching.

3.

Each number like a sudden pump of air, feeling like every single one is the number that'll make it burst, but

4.

Still getting larger every time. Worries and stresses going into the bubble.

Larger.

5.

Sadness and anger and fear slipping right in to the bubble.

6.

Impossibly big.

It needs to pop, you want it to pop, but

7.

Still larger, consuming everything. All of the bubbles combining, every swimming thought entirely absorbed.

8.

Bubble pushing against the walls of your mind, and yet still feeling bigger.

9.

Knowing that when this bubble pops you will be utterly mindless making it so much harder to resist. Denser and Fuller and Heavier and

POP.

Your thoughts just go

Pop!

All gone already, but still losing more. With every

Pop!

It gets impossible to think. You find that your thoughts start to

Pop

automatically sometimes. It's like your focus is pointy. When it points too intently on a thought bubble, it just pokes it by accident. It goes

Pop.

So Easy, So Automatic. When you're around your friend, and anyone you trust with this, your thoughts start to drift to being a puppy, and puppies don't think too much. Puppy brains are really really good at fixing all those big thoughts, because they just

Pop.

Those thoughts are too big. They're too fragile. They

Pop.

so Easily. It becomes automatic once it happens the first time, with every thought that comes into your brain so easily

Popping

away. Before it can matter, before it can even form fully. It goes

Pop.

All Gone. Only puppy thoughts left. If you absolutely need to be human, you'll be able to easily come back to a normal state of thinking, the words "Smart Puppy" coming into your brain automatically.

This trigger, said by anyone, including you, will bring you up to human mode. However, in your case, it will only work if you need it to, or if you really really want it to.

Smart Puppy.

Thoughts returning, coming back so easily.

Smart Puppy.

Becoming human again so quickly.

Smart Puppy.

Fully awake now.

Be careful what you think about now, you might get reminded of something that puts your brain in a dumb little loop. It'll happen so easily around your friend, far less often everywhere else. Have fun~

[radfem-rage]

do you ever think about how emotionally immature TiMs and TiFs are? Everything I see them hung up on as been stuff I dealt with when I was 12-18. Yet they're out here hung up on it despite being 23+. Stuff like being obsessed with having followings, treating trivial things like it's their personality (gender, pretending their bad habits makes them cool, etc), being a mindless consumer (they all act like teens- wanting all this junk and being equally bad with money), not wanting to work because it's soooo unfair, being mad at the way SoCiEtY is (in regards to trivial things), etc.

It's honestly kinda creepy seeing TiMs in their 40s sounding the same way as 16yr TiMs, since literally most trans people sound and act the same fucking way. Its so uncanny, but it's due to their sheer lack of personality. They then turn into little "clusters" of appearance. Are you an it/itself/pup *posts pictures of furries and bdsm* trans or are you a they/them *posts pictures of cottagecore* trans? Don't even get me started on their physical appearance, because yes they even look alike physically and there's sets of "clusters" in regards to style. Are you the kidcore-esc dyed hair still feminine they/them girl or are you the porn-addicted dead-eyed blond twink trying to mimic an e girl? Or are you Chris Chan? lolol

When I see how they all function, especially with how I had plenty of friends who transed out.... It makes me conscious of how much I matured over the years. I wonder if I would be less mature if I wasn't actually dealing with systemic issues? Like abuse, homelessness, discrimination, etc. I went from "youre so mature for your age" to feeling like a "child within an adult body" to now feeling like my actual age. Progress! Yet with these people, there is no progress. They all come across as children in adult bodies.

Holy shit, yes!

What scares me is how the trans community has no problem telling the mentally ill youth that if their pretend identity isn’t affirmed at all times or if their insane demands are not being accepted immediately, it is a valid reason to threaten to commit suicide or shoot yourself. Things like:

• Demanding your parents never call you your “deadname” again out of nowhere

• Parents being forced to forget about how their child used to be before they got mentally ill and when they obviously struggle (because duh, a woman that gave birth to a girl will obviously struggle when that now teenage girl pretends she is a boy) they’re evil

• Tattoos of deadnames must be covered up or “fixed” to have the TiP’s new name or be removed all together

• Genital mutilation surgery the moment they want it and if the parents refuse or want to wait they’re evil transphobes who deserve to die.

• Never being allowed to share news articles about Trans pedophiles or rapists because “transphobia”

• TiF’s invading gay bars and TiM’s invading lesbian bars and then act confused when no one wants them around even though they have been shown multiple times no one wants the opposite sex in gay bars.

Trans people are indeed like children in adult bodies. They have never been told the word “no” and can’t accept it, either. They are stuck in a trans hug-box all day long that will affirm their bullshit and lie to them at every second of every day, they will only depend on other trans people because everyone else is transphobic and slowly lose connections with sane individuals. Then the moment they realize they were never born in the wrong body after all and underwent FGM/MGM for nothing the trans community will backstab them and tell them to k!ll themselves.

I used to have 2 TiM friends. Both were addicted to porn and thought women lived life on easy mode. They were acting extremely feminine and like a sexist stereotype, because they thought that was all a woman was, the moment I stopped affirming their bs and told them women aren’t regressive stereotypes or “feminine people” but adult people of the female sex, they dumped me as a friend. I never once regretted it because truth deserves to be spoken and I got nothing to be ashamed of. I too, changed a lot over the years and became more mature and outspoken, and grew & improved myself a lot, from libfem to radfem, and I love that about myself. ✌🏻

[jlwritesstories]

Hi Hello, I absolutely loved your The Eyes Are The Windows To The Soul series, I am super curious though, what...exactly was Dieter's plan if the reader didn't accept him? I mean, he said he'd never hurt them...but you also implied pretty heavily that he's killed people who have rejected him before. OOH WAIT I was also wondering how you say Dieter's name? I've been saying it in my head like the word "diet" in english, like die-et.

Anyway, have good day, thanks for writing and sharing such a satisfying and interesting lil series!!

Thank you 🤩🤩🤩 I'm so glad you're enjoying the series.

Beware! You have awakened the infodump monster. 😈😅

Dieter is such a fun character to write because they are an unreliable narrator. They're not human, so they don't see things in the same way a human would. Also, they're delusional.

Right now Dieter is convinced he will never hurt the reader, but he was also convinced of that fact with all the other partners he's pursued before ... right up until the moment the house of cards came falling down and the illusion shattered.

Then Dieter spiraled into a panic and basically speed-ran the five stages of grief until they went into a mindless rage mode once their emotions became too much. And then afterward, when they calmed down a bit, they would be consumed with guilt and eat their previous partners to gain what they could from their memories to 'figure out what went wrong'.

So yeah, they're living in an endless loop of 'the next one will work' and it's terrifying. Wonderful while the relationship is going well, but when it doesn't 👀

Also, I pronounce Dieter like /Dee-tah/ since that's how it's pronounced on this pronounciation site.

[lighkoda]

bro i literally forget to ask this every single day but do you post your fics on ao3? or do you post it just here, have a tag for it? nozorikos is making an idol masterlist and i wanted to send your blog as a fanfic writer but i always forget to ask where you post your fics;;;;

omg bro thank you for asking !!!! i haven’t been posting love live fics for some time now ;w; but i used to post them on this tumblr @ lighkoda until my interest waned a little... i actually decided to move all my content creating to a side blog, luxexhomines, but since i didn’t really write any love live stuff there, there’s only one love live fic on there so far.... so i’m not really sure what i would say now.... maybe i should make a separate ao3 for just my love live stuff! i probably will start writing more love live fic as the new anime comes out, heheh owo

i’ve been meaning to make a love live fic masterlist for all the little stuffies i write/wrote but for some reason it keeps getting thrown to the side.... honestly i never know what to do w blogs.... i’ve been thinking for some time if i should just make another blog for only reblogs or love live stuffies bc this blog has become really convoluted w all the reblogs i do and i haven’t written love live fanfiction in a while (i wrote a rinpana for a secret santa just the last christmas, but that’s it).... orz i wonder what i should do....i also feel a little bad to my followers who just get my reblogs all the time, especially the ones that aren’t fandom related...SORRY that was a total ramble!!!!! anyway-

tldr; i used to post my fics here on this tumblr, now i don’t write as much but i’ve decided to post all future fics on my creating (mostly writing) blog on luxexhomines... i’m considering making some other account or masterlist to keep track of my fics bc it’s so confusing LOL and thank you so much for thinking of me!!!!!!!! fsjdldkfj;sdlf

[lordiedams]

Acts of Redemption - Chapter 4 (avm shorts story)

AO3

Chapter 3

Purple is having a mental crisis.

tw: bleeding, mentions of death and mentions of torture

Chapter 4 - Bleeding

The trip from the castle to the towers was easy for him, flying past Ghasts and stupid mindless zombie piglins gave him a sense of freedom that no floating powers or creative modes could replicate.

Just the simple notion of being completely weightless while following the path of blackstone and bright blue torches could bring peace to Purple, even for a little while, where no one could bother him, and no one would judge his tears.

But even that would come to an end when he arrived in his destination, the south east tower. So purple landed gracefully in front of the two metal doors, drying his tears on his forearms before walking inside.   

The stickfigure ignored the two brutes keeping guard by the doors, who shared a confused look as the doors swing open and Purple limp his way to the stairs.

Up the first floor of the tower, there was a series of chests lined up the walls, mostly to store weapons and important items that were rare to find in a waste land like the nether, where Purple proceeded to quickly open and close them in look for something to clean his wound, or at least patch himself until he could go back to the Overworld. His finds was an old dirty cloth that for sure would do more harm than good if used on an open cut and a bottle of water.

He squirted a little of the water against his leg, rubbing his hand on the area around the cut to wash the blood away before putting it back in the chest. Perhaps cleaning his cut would help him distract his mind from the feelings inside his chest, maybe even erase them entirely.

But Purple never had such luck, his tears kept coming back, and it was getting annoying. These feelings confused him to no end, after all, he hurt them before, and he fought them before, why this time it felt like such a bad thing to do? Why did he felt any compassion? Why did he felt scared?

Shaking his head seemed to help a bit, get rid of the thoughts before they consumed his entire being, he kept going forward, up the second set of stairs to the third floor where he started to hear the loud noise.

The piglins at the corridor entrance groaned at the non-stop loud clanking of metal echoing through the entire place, Purple wasn’t sure what to think but he walked past them all, down the corridor to the. Blue was sitting on the floor, body against the bars as he incessantly clanked his cuff against the metal. 

─ I can do this all day! ─ Blue yelled at the brutes as they shot him annoyed looks and glares.

Purple groaned quietly, stopping right in front of the cell, the clanking finally stopped.

─ Blue… ─ the purple stickfigure mumbled, crossing his arms at the situation. ─ What the hell are you doing?

─ Oh, finally someone with a brain… Purple, I’m starving here… I’ve been here for hours…

─Yeah moron, you’re in a prison cell, that’s the whole point!

Blue gave a loud, dramatic groan. ─ What starving me is going to achieve?  I’m not less annoying when I’m hungry. Can I at least get my Nether wart pouch back?

But Purple didn’t answer; Blue’s words sparked something in his brain.

If he doesn’t want to hurt them, then he could just let them starve… It would probably be enough for his King to approve.  And he wasn’t actually hurting them, he was just… Letting it happen? 

Purple nodded to himself, that was a good plan, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with it.

─ Helloo??? Earth to Purple?? ─ Blue got up, waving his free hand out the bars in front of Purple. ─ So that’s a no for the pouch then?

Purple snapped out of his own mind after that, looking back at him. ─ I can’t feed you… It’s…its part of it. Now deal with it.

─ What?? Part of what? ─ Blue pleaded, but it was useless, Purple was already rushing out of there. ─ Purple!

He went down the stairs as fast as he could, trying not to think about what he was about to do. Marching towards the brutes he spoke in his best confident voice. ─ I have orders from the King, do not feed the prisoners, no one is allowed anything else until the Lord’s next order.

And with that, he flew away; still have two others to check on.

[nocluewhatsupg]

Headcanons for Michael? Little stabby stalking boy? Please and thank you <3 i really like your take on these characters

since we stan Laurie Strode in this house all of these headcanons will be making fun of that bastard Mitch.

we say that Miguel’s spookiness comes from a mixture of natural serial killer and supernatural being, and we’ll give headcanons that hint to both sides (because Mickey’s nature is much more interesting when it’s unknown ;] ).

Mica Myers HCs

With Michael, it’s the same issue we met with writing Jason, that being Micheal doesn’t actually have any sort of personality besides staring at Laurie and being a bastard. (or having a weird boner, if you’ve read the novelization)

The only way we see anyone befriending him is if they meet him during his childhood. Becoming the boogeyman was a slow but steep decline into madness, and he was a somewhat normal child in the beginning.

As a child, he was quiet. He talked, even if he didn’t know it, when it profited him. He did not search for socialization, nor did he seek acceptance from his peers.

In the novel, it is mentioned that the weeks leading up to Michael murdering Judith, he had begun peeing his bed. (fucking nerd) Interestingly, the Macdonald triad is a set of three factors that were most commonly found in serial killers when they were children, one of which included pissing their pants along with arson and cruelty to animals (man eats dog meat. point proven). Two of the three factors must be present to lead to criminally violent behavior, and since we see Micheal murder and consume dogs, and have never seen him set something on fire on purpose, he 100% pissed his fucking bed. Since this triad (although outdated now) was suggested in the 1963, before the movie had come out and thus existed to be of interest/reference to either Carpenter himself or to the directors fleshing out Michael’s character, Michael most likely canonically pissed his bed like a little bitch. (source: dude who cares this is a headcanon about michael pissing his bed)

Back to his childhood, he most likely took out his frustrations on animals. It wasn’t that he had a particularly large amount of stress (the opposite, since part of Michael’s horror is that he came from a perfectly good childhood), it was that he simply didn’t know how to deal with it normally. With an already tainted mind from birth, he decided that murder was just the solution to all of his problems.

He didn’t collect the animals he killed. Occasionally, he’d take the bloody messes of feathers and fur and reposition them. In the beginning, it was to hide what he’d done, but as the years went on and he stayed under the radar he became far more creative. Michael would gingerly replace the carcasses where he found them. Then, that too grew boring and he settled on leaving the animals on sidewalks or on the streets, running back to the safety of his home and smiling as people walking looked down and gasped.

Michael might have also taken out some of this exaggerated aggression on his classmates. While he didn’t specifically go out of his way to harm them, he wasn’t afraid to encourage them to stay away. He was fond of twisting other’s arms and pinning them against their backs, then pulling up so sharply he nearly broke their arms. When questioned, he would smile charmingly, flutter his long eyelashes, and with a sweet voice he’d assure teachers he had no clue what they were talking about. While his classmates would survive the encounter, they never would forget how Michael wouldn’t react to their cries of pain, and how chillingly stoic he was during the whole ordeal. 

Judith thought it was odd how distant her little brother was from her, but she didn’t really care. It was less she had to hang around her childish sibling, and more time she had to herself. While Michael did nothing to befriend her, he did expect her to treat him with priority. When she didn’t, since she couldn’t read his mind, Judith would awaken to a dead mouse hanging from the doorknob to her room.

As expected, he was close to Cynthia from the moment she was born. He hovered around her crib until he was shooed out of his parent’s room to allow her rest, and scooted his chair closer to hers at the dinner table. Cynthia herself was indifferent to Michael’s presence, cooing and fussing just as a normal baby would. She would reach up curiously, and wrap her small hand around his finger, and he would freeze on the spot. The look in his eyes were chalked up to brotherly love, but after Judith’s murder, his parents weren’t so sure it was love they hope for.

It doesn’t really matter what specifically happened to Michael during his stay at Smith’s Grove, because it’s most likely that he didn’t do anything of interest. Of course, cruel and ignorant staff played a big part, but even without the neglect it was most likely Michael would grow to the murderous man he became either way.

Probably watched those shitty soap operas whose plot is 95% mindless filler. He watched them religiously once he discovered them by accident, every single night on the dot he’d stride into the common room, take his place on the ratty sofa, and watch. Oh, you were watching something else? Do you want to keep your head attached to your body?

He didn’t even have to threaten anyone. Michael got his way from intimidation.

Since Michael (presumably) wasn’t caught after his first and second movie chaos, it’s safe to assume his injuries were never properly cleaned. After his hype to kill Laurie died down, he promptly collapsed on the ground and passed out until the directors wanted to refurnish their kitchens and brought him back to the big screen for easy cash. Not only did he most likely did not have the slightest clue how to properly care for his wounds, he probably didn’t care. So Michael smells like ass because he doesn’t shower, and because he most likely had an infection.

In murder mode, physical ailments would never stop him. Outside of stalking, stabbing, or strangling, it was a different story. His chest, arms, and stomach burned. Michael’s head swarmed with a persistent fever. Since he spent most of his time in a dream, he doesn’t physically look fatigued. He refused to show weakness, but he couldn’t shake the stumble he occasionally carried. Not to mention he smells like a rotting carcass.

Will stab the wall in warning, glaring at you as eight inches of sharp steel punctured another hole. Goes out of his way to stab at really awkward angles, so it’s difficult for you to cover it up.

Last but not least, we leave you with a final line from the novel that we cherish so much, written from Michael’s POV while he stalks Annie:

[rabble-dabble]

The Cancer King's Court ~ The Vengeful Storm

Sollux Captor/The Vengeful Storm

This version of Sollux lived a life nearly identical to his canon counterpart up until one specific moment. During his fight with Eridan in the session, Feferi tries to interupt. This distraction allows Eridan to get a hit in, killing Sollux. Feferi chases Eridan off in a rage, before taking Sollux to his quest bed to revive him.

Now that he’s God-Tier, Sollux is able to obliterate Eridan once he turns traitor on the meteor. This results in him and Feferi surviving the game, as they’re able to make it to Earth C without to much fuss from there. 

He settles into a peaceful life with Feferi and Aradia from there, with the three of them settling into a quiet pseudo-routine. Whether it be Sollux not batting an eye as Aradia throws a corpse party in the backyard, or Feferi dragging Sollux’s boney ass to bed when she catches him playing video games at three in the morning, things wind up becoming a strange sort of normal.

The three of them never wonder what their relationship is exactly and no one else really asks. Except Karkat, who thinks he knows exactly what their relationship is and boasts about that fact whenever it comes up. Ironic, seeing as he’s completely oblivious to John’s flirting. Sollux, Aradia, and Feferi have started a betting pool to see how long it takes him to notice.

All is well… until The Condescension comes back.

The forces of The Condescension have been spreading across Paradox Space from the main timeline, slaughtering civilizations and rounding up their remaining populations to be consumed by the HIC. Entire timelines had fallen before her gluttony and this timeline was next on the chopping block.

Sollux’s only warning was when he heard Feferi’s voice in his head.

Sollux was swiftly captured by the invasion force and brought before The Condescension. HIC recognizes him as the descendant of her beloved Helmsman and has him strapped in to her ship. Has Sollux is dragged into the engine room, he passes dozens of versions of himself, his ancestor, and Mituna. Some of them are just shriveled up and mindless husks. Others are still muttering the names of loved ones under their breath. 

He lost count of how many were asking for Aradia and Feferi.

Sollux would lie there for decades, surrounded by broken versions of himself as his energy was sucked out of him. As the nights trickled on, he never heard Aradia’s voice. He never knew she was dead. It kept him going. Kept him sane until the day he was rescued. 

The Holy Prince had united the timeline’s survivors into an army. He lead them to victory against the Condescension, forcing her armies out of the timeline. But not before he brought down one final warship.

Sollux opened his eyes for the first time in decades to see Aradia standing over him.

She was alive.

She was safe.

He was free.

…Until he heard her voice.

One final shrill gasp echoed in his head seconds before a drone shot Aradia dead.

Sollux tore the worship apart.

Eridan looked up to see a red and blue sky swirling over him, Sollux glaring down at him as the warship fell in flames. The only reason The Holy Prince didn’t get obliterated right there was because Sollux passed out from exhaustion soon afterwards. 

Eridan brings Sollux to the King, who puts him in a bed to let him rest. Sollux spends the next few weeks being taken care of in recovery mode, with the Red Death and the Holy Prince helping him come to terms with his loss. Even the King makes time to visit him. The recovery is much more mental that it is physical. After all, Feferi can heal him up just fine. But trauma isn’t processed that easily.

Aradia and Feferi try to help. His interactions with them are strange. They’re still their usual chipper selves, but there’s something holding them back. It’s a grim reminder that these aren’t the same people he fell in love with. On the other hand, he finds himself actually liking this version of Eridan. He’s willing to take responsibility and he genuinely sympathizes with Sollux. That’s enough to get him forgiven in Sollux’s book, it just took a while for him to trust Eridan enough to see that.

After a few visits, Sollux asks whether they’re going to ask him to join their little group. He’s put together by this point that these guys aren’t all from the same timeline. Karkat explains their goal and Sollux says he wants in. “ii want my mate2priite2 back. and ii want two make her pay.”

Sollux is a one man army. Telekinetically ripping apart battle fleets and tossing around continents. His god-like power obliterating the Condescension’s forces with ease. Eridan is the scalpel. Sollux is the hammer.

He has an uneasy relationship with this version of Aradia and Feferi. He gets along well enough with Feferi, but she’s just a bit… off. She’s so close to the Feferi from Sollux’s timeline, but not quite. It feels weird, but they still get along well enough. Same goes with Aradia, but with an added wrinkle.

Aradia is unnerved by how vengeful and vindictive this Sollux is. Yes, he has every reason to be pissed and HIC needs to die anyways, but Aradia is still worried about him going to far. Revenge blackens the soul. She knows that first hand. She doesn’t want to see Sollux experience that too.

Tavros, conversely, eggs Sollux on. He deserves his revenge, he deserves his happy ending. Tavros knows what it’s like to be robbed and he encourages Sollux to do whatever he can to get even. The two end up as close friends as a result. Which, by extension, makes him close friends with Gamzee. Those two have a mutual respect for each other as some of the strongest members of the team.

Ironically enough, Eridan ends up reigning Sollux in a lot of the time, almost to the point of being pale. Sollux actually has a huge amount of respect for Eridan finally dropping the attitude so he’s far more inclined to listen to his advice. That said, he’s still Eridan’s opposite. He ends up being an unintentionally corrupting influence on Karkat, showing by example that being less restrained gets more done.

The Vengeful Storm is a weapon of mass destruction, a force of nature few can match, and a thoroughly unfettered individual who will do whatever it takes to get the job done. If you anger the King, get below ground. You will not survive the coming Vengeful Storm.

now hear me out

i am willingly okay with sollux having the ability to Go Apeshit ™

also sollux friendship with tavros, ALSO going Apeshit ™?

HMMMMMMM MY FRIEND YOU JUST FED ME UNLIKE THE ANGST YOU THINK YOU’VE MIGHT’VE INSTILLED IN ME FOR THE PAST THREE CANCER KING KARKAT POSTS

anyways I went with something akin to sollux’s quirks - red and blue, white and black, and his modified messed up god tier outfit - I consider that with his powers and his drive he’d kinda end up messing up the damn thing in one or two or more fights. also not to toot my own horn but the electric lighting was a last minute idea and i fucking LOVE it.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {2}

Jacob/Bella Twilight Fix-It Fic

Series Masterlist

A/N: Bella acquires some self-awareness. Team let all these characters say fuck. Again, if you don’t like it, don’t read it, this is just me screaming into the void.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Months passed since Edward left and Bella has finally reentered the real world, maybe Forks will be normal.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,478

Walking into school when I was aware of my surroundings was jarring after months of floating in existence. I muddled through classes, thankful that as a senior, most of my teachers taught in a lecture format and I could lose myself while they instructed, by now most had given up calling on me for answers. As I was packing my bag from English I heard a voice call my name. I snapped my head up, Mike stood in front of me. “What? Sorry, did you need something?” I asked.

“Are you working tomorrow?” He asked anxiously, every week he had asked this question. I had been answering on autopilot.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” I said with a shrug, I always showed up. Maybe in zombie mode, but I was there. And that paycheck was what would be filling my college fund. Or at least giving me a starting point for it.

“It is.” He nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer before he left the room. I finished packing up and wandered into the hallway. My first exchange with someone wasn’t horrible, but I dreaded the next with Jessica. She had been like a fly buzzing in my ear, but something told me that today, I would not be able to just tune her out.

I walked to my seat and glanced over at her. “Hi.” I said awkwardly with a small wave.

Her eyes widened for a moment. “Hello, Bella.” She stated in short accented bursts, but today, she didn’t give me a mindless deluge of her life. She remained silent, she stared at Mr. Varner as he lectured Calculus methods, but her eyes kept flitting over to me curiously. When class had winded down she turned to me. “Do you need help with calc?”

I gave her what I thought was a hopeful expression, “I need so much help.” Then froze, “With calculus, well with other things too, but that’s not your department.”

She chuckled. “I think I can handle calculus. I’m free tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I work tomorrow.”

She nodded, “Mike had said you were working at Newton’s.” She tapped her pencil on her chin. “We’ll figure it out, we can always stay late sometime to work on calc. The library is open until 4:30.”

I smiled, then the bell rang, the day was over, I had two conversations with classmates who probably thought I was possessed after the past few months, but it was progress. Maybe if I shared it with Dad, he’d feel hopeful. I drove home, the constant weight that had made a home in my chest had lightened. I was surprised to come home and see Dad’s squad car parked out front, he had been working later, I was used to being home alone until he came back from work.

He was sitting in his recliner when I walked through the door, his eyes closed and a quiet snore escaping his lips. I tried to tiptoe in, to let him get a half-decent nap in, but his eyes opened when I closed the door.

“Good day at school?” He asked groggily.

“It was a day, at school.” I shrugged, setting my backpack down and sitting on the couch.

He nodded, “I got ahold of the therapist, Dr. Theresa Gilbert. She said she can see you on Monday after school. We can drive up, we’ll get there by 4 and she said you could start with a session, see how you feel. If you don’t get along she can refer you to another.”

I nodded, one session to start, I could handle that. “Are you sure we can do this?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow. “Your mother and I talked it over, we can swing it, you’re on my insurance plan, it’s not the best, but it will be fine.”

“So I’ll just leave school Monday and drive up to Port Angeles?”

“I’ll drive you.” Dad stated, I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Bells, I want to support you, you can go in yourself, I can sit in the car and wait. I won’t go in unless you want me to.”

“Okay.” I murmured, sensing there was something more to his wanting to go. Not a ‘I’m going to ensure you go’ but more of a ‘I have to be there.’

“You have work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah, Saturdays are my day.” I nodded.

He let out a hum and stood up. “I’ll get dinner started. Let you know when it’s ready.”

I nodded and opened my backpack. I wasn’t worried about English or Social Studies, those two classes I could muddle through. But Calculus was going to be the bane of my existence. I continued working until Dad called me into the kitchen, it was spaghetti, a staple meal for him. Which, the past few months, I didn’t really notice how many times we ate it, but I imagine he did. “Dad, do you want me to start helping cook again?” I asked as I took a helping of pasta and sauce.

“Getting tired of spaghetti?” He teased, but added. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to take over. I can… get adventurous.”

I laughed. “I’ll start doing some meals, get some change in our diet.” I said taking a bite.

He smiled at me and we ate in silence. I washed the dishes before going up to bed, he turned on the TV to watch some game that was important to him. I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a deep breath. The throbbing in my chest was present again, my knees felt weak. It had been a good day, why now? I curled into a ball on my bed and willed myself to sleep. The dull throbbing lulled me to sleep as I counted my heartbeats.

Breakfast the next morning was silent, Dad had left a note on the fridge that he had to go to the station early. Forks barely ever had need of him this early, but after spending a year with vampires, I don’t know how much would surprise me anymore. I put my empty bowl in the sink and walked out to my truck. I let the engine sputter for a moment before it started, rap music started blaring through the stereo and I flinched back. When did I start listening to rap?

Mike was at the counter when I clocked in, “Hey, Bella.” He greeted.

“Hey, Mike.” I returned, putting on my vest and taking a seat next to him. “Busy morning.” I joked, gesturing at the empty store.

He glanced up at me, eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Yeah, busy.” He let out a small laugh. “How are you?”

“I’m here.” I answered, grateful for the bell to sound as a few customers entered. Mike nodded and went to help them. Early on, we learned that I was best at the cash register, and Mike was best with helping customers. Maybe that was just because I had been off this plane of existence for so long. But I was pretty hopeless when it came to the outdoorsy needs.

It must have been at least two hours that he spent going over different items with them before they finally checked out.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a grizzly, that thing was bigger than any grizzlies I’ve seen.” The first one, a big burly man with an unkempt beard started, tossing his items on the counter.

“I doubt it, there’s only black bear up here, and they don’t get that big. You’ve probably only seen young grizzlies.” The other, taller and lean with tan skin stated, throwing his items next to the first man’s.

“I’ve seen a full grown grizzly, and whatever was in those woods had at least three feet on a grizzly.” The first retorted, handing me cash when I gave him his total.

“Bullshit, you’re acting like you saw Sasquatch. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you. You haven’t been the same since you stared into the sun.” The second teased, handing me his cash, a smirk on his face.

“That was years ago, and my eye sight is just fine. There’s a big ass bear in these woods.” Beardy grumbled, stomping out of the store to their truck.

“Don’t mind him, he always gets grumpy when we start trips.” The taller man said, taking his items and following the other out.

I glanced over at Mike who watched them leave then flipped the open sign to closed. He shrugged at me. “What? It’s not like there’s going to be a sudden raid for hiking equipment, especially with those two as our only customers. I can close up.”

“I’ll help, no reason for you to be stuck with the grunt work.” I stood from my stool and grabbed the broom. I started sweeping, I could feel Mike’s eyes on me. “You need something?”

He froze, his hand going behind his neck and he looked a little guilty. “We’ve missed you, Ang, Ben, even Jess, she won’t admit it.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “I guess I’ve been a bit of a hermit.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” Mike chuckled. “We’re here if you need us.”

I paused, taking in that statement. I had been so absorbed in myself the past few months, I honestly had forgotten what it was like having friends that weren’t…..them. I know last year I had been consumed by being a part of them that I had forgotten the people who were there for me first when I moved to Forks. “Thanks, Mike.” I continued to sweep, feeling a bit ashamed of the tunnel vision I had been in for the past year. The day I stepped onto the Forks campus I had been obsessed with him. And he didn’t want me, he left me, who was I without him? I finished up and gave Mike a quick goodbye, walking to my car faster than normal. I slammed the door and sped, well, moved as fast as my old girl would, and drove home. I made it halfway there before the tears started to fall. I pulled to the side of the road and threw the truck in park.

I pressed my head against the steering wheel as the sobs continued to tear through my body. I had given an entire year to him, lost myself in the fantasy of being his for eternity. I had been obsessed with immortality, the promise of never aging, never dying. And he didn’t want me, I was just a toy. I had served my purpose of amusement for a fleeting moment of his life, then I was thrown to the wolves. I almost died for him.

I froze when that thought appeared. I almost died…. For him. I put myself into danger for him. My blood was boiling, I had gone to that dance studio and been prepared to sacrifice my life. For what? A year, one fucking year and a few kisses. Kisses that were so controlled and choreographed they might has well have been a peck on the cheek. My radio broke me from my thoughts as a loud, angry song started. I looked over at my passenger seat, the old wrench sat there. Jacob had left it there, “Just in case the hood refuses to go back down, give it a good whack with this and it’ll be good as new.”

Jacob, I hadn’t seen him in a while… I shook my head and grabbed the wrench and slammed it into the radio. I kept going until the sound stopped, the radio that they had installed for my birthday was in pieces. I dropped the wrench onto the truck bench, I stared at the bent and broken plastic. The tears had stopped, the dull pain in my chest was back. I groaned, not sure how I was going to explain the mess I had made to Dad. A twig snapped in the woods to my right. I swore that I saw a flash of movement from the woods as I put the truck into gear. The two hikers had been talking about bears, maybe it was just a bear. Yeah, just a bear.

I tried to quiet my mind as I drove home, I thought today had been a good day, but breaking down in my truck and destroying the radio probably didn’t fit the definition of a good day. I had felt something though, months of floating in a void and I had felt guilty and angry. I pulled into the driveway, Dad still wasn’t home. I checked the messages on the phone, “I’ll be late tonight Bells, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab something when I’m home. Love you.”

That was something that had become more common in the past few months, Dad letting me know he loved me. He was always saying, love you, I love you. And I had started calling him Dad, not Charlie. Sure, it seemed like something that would be part of a normal father-daughter relationship. We weren’t normal, or weren’t, and now…. I might have been in another headspace, but somehow we grew closer. I walked up to my room, took a shower and crawled under my covers. “Please, just let me have a normal night.” I mumbled, and closed my eyes.

I was driving through the forest again. It was dark, the trees all looked the same. Every turn, it was the same trees. I glanced at the dashboard, the radio was back in place and the first verse of the song from earlier was blaring on repeat. The trees were a labyrinth, there was no way out. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. Then I heard a branch snap and turned my head. And he was there, eyes crimson.

“Hello, Bella.” He sneered, I caught my reflection in the window. It was Grandma Marie’s face again. Blood dripped from his fangs. “I told you my world wasn’t for you.” He lunged and I woke up, my heart racing as I tried to catch my breath. I heard Dad shuffling by the door.

“Bella? You okay?” He called, he must have just gotten home, I glanced at my alarm clock, it blinked a one at me.

“Yeah, Dad, sorry, nightmare.” I called back. “Go to bed, I’m alright.”

He grunted, but I heard him shuffle to his room. What was he doing until 1AM? He used to work late when I was younger, I remember a few nights when he was home by ten, but this, something was going on. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I just hoped that what was keeping him at work late wasn’t of the same nature as that keeping me awake.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 11 Pt 2

He crawled back into bed and finally settled, watching the short video of them in bed before he left over and over again, that laugh, her smile, the way she looked at him.

“See you in my dreams love.” He whispered into the night.

He thought of their day today, the smiling faces, Sildie so happy as sleep took him under.

Sunday was a blur. He didn’t have time to think about calling Sildie let alone actually call her. By the time he fell through the door to his hotel room he just wanted to shower and pass out. He sent her a quick text on the car ride to the hotel saying exactly that. Her quick text back was one of understanding and a picture of the kids on the couch making faces at him. He was beat to hell but it made him smile.

Tomorrow was a travel day so there would be some time off to at least take a damn breath. Press junkets were brutal and that was his life for the next five weeks. Travel, interviews, sleep, rinse repeat. At least he had Daisy to keep his mind in work mode.

He’d slept like the dead and felt better for it. Standing in a towel he smiled at the incoming text from Sildie that simply said “text me when you land”. There could be no doubt the woman loved him and he needed to stop trying to find it. He needed to stop doubting her feelings for him and stop doubting himself. The photo with the text must have been taken this morning which showed the kids ready for school and Sildie in a suit all lawyered up for court.

“Damn woman you make me so fucking hard.” He muttered as his cock twitched.

He smirked and took a quick photo of himself in the postage stamp sized towel wrapped at his hips, still dripping wet from his shower and sent it to her.

Now that’s just playing dirty.

Her text read.

He smiled while he dressed, texting her back.

You started it when you lawyered up. You know what that does to me.

Yes I do

She giggled as she stepped into court.

He sat for meditation, feeling the calm wash over him he let all the anxiety from the past week bubble up and release. It would take more to release the pain from Ana but he had five weeks to work that out of his system. He was determined to get rid of it before setting foot back into Sildies life. The exercise session he had planned for this afternoon would deal with that side of things. He had to get his anger and emotions under control again.

Seated on the plane next to Daisy he pulled out his notebook and started to write. An old habit that had helped him through some of the worst times in his life. It was mainly mindless crap that buzzed around his head, he needed to get all these thoughts out so he could process them. Writing made it easier, it also made the time go quicker. Keeping the mind as well as the body busy was key.

Daisy and Gustaf went straight from the airport to the interviews as the schedule was tight. He only had time in the car to text Sildie to say he’d landed. There was no answer as she was more than likely still in court. It was one of those times where their schedules wouldn’t align.

It was the usual whirlwind of questions regarding the show, fans outside screaming, cameras in his face. He was used to it and it didn’t take long for his mind to focus on what he was here to do.

He was tired when he finally stepped through the hotel room door. Normal tired which was better than the emotional exhaustion he’d felt over the last few days. He casually dumped his bag on the bed and stopped dead. On the small table was a single yellow gerbera and three daisies in a slim vase. His mouth twitched into a full on grin. She’d sent him flowers, it had to be her.

He moved to the table and ran a fingertip seductively under a petal of the gerbera as if it were her chin. His heart lurched, she was trying to cheer him up and all the emotions he felt for her got stuck in his throat. His gaze fell on the envelope propped up against the vase, her own elegant handwriting calling to him. He looked around the room expecting to find her standing there.

“Don’t be a dumbass.” He chuckled, smiling. “She’s not here you fool.”

He pulled the tiny card out of the envelope and it simply read

I miss your kiss.

“You undo me love.” He whispered, his emotions choking him.

Never had anyone sent him such a gift, it floored him. Something so simple yet so thoughtful.

He looked at the time back home and realized she’d still be at work. He texted her a photo of the flowers with an “I miss yours too”, and he did, he missed kissing her. Missed everything about her, about the kids. He took out his wallet and placed the note in the back sleeve. He needed to keep it close, keep her close.

The week went by in a flash. He’d barely had a moment where he could text Sildie let alone skype with her. Even the weekend consumed him and before he knew it four Fridays had come and gone and he’d not Skyped her or the kids once. So much for his plan, their schedules didn’t jive, and their careers were determined to keep them apart.

Texting her and sharing photos was one thing but he’d promised her and the kids he’d call and he hadn’t. Four weeks, four different cities, four sets of flowers and cards waiting for him and he hadn’t done shit for her apart from a few texts and photos here and there. He’d done nothing for the kids and that weighed on him heavily, he felt like shit, like he’d let them down or didn’t care which wasn’t the case.

“Fuck!” He scrubbed his hand over his face as he stared at the fifth card after just landing and entering his hotel room.

I miss your voice love.

It was late and he knew she was probably asleep but he opened his laptop anyway and hit dial. He toyed with all five cards she’d sent him.

I miss your kiss.

I miss your touch.

I miss your smile.

I miss your voice.

I miss your arms around me.

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucking blown it.” He muttered quietly as the line kept ringing. “You idiot, you fucking idiot.” He spat at himself, that uncontrollable rage sparking within him.

After a long moment her face appeared on the screen. He’d woken her up, he could see that clearly. The barely awake look, the dark circles under her eyes telling him she hadn’t been sleeping well, and her robe hastily pulled on.

“Hey.” She smiled a tired smile and yawned.

“I woke you up I’m sorry love. I’m so sorry, I got caught up, it’s been madness and it’s no excuse I should have called you sooner.” He was so angry at himself.

“It’s ok, I’ve seen your schedule, it’s a wonder you have time to breathe. Are you ok?”

Her voice held no anger, just concern, she knew his schedule and be damned if she was going to be the needy whiny bitch that made him feel bad for doing his job. That wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t become it now just because she was lonely without him. A guilt trip was the last thing he needed.

“I’m better now seeing you, hearing your voice.” He smiled and her face lit up. “Thank you for the notes, it was sweet of you.” His smile made her face light up. “I see you and Daisy have hit it off well.” He chuckled knowing full well it was her that had set it up on his end of things.

“Don’t be mad at her, she’s been a great partner in crime and shenaniganry.” Her giggle made his heart swell.

“Partner in crime huh? What else do you have planned?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She paused and studied him for a moment. He looked tired but he was more relaxed now the anger at himself had dissipated, maybe it was her that made him anxious, was he better off without her she wondered? Not a thought she wanted to dwell on or even entertain.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called for our Friday tea dates I know we had planned to do that too.” His fingers itched to graze against her cleavage that was barely covered. She hadn’t noticed but he sure had.

“Gustaf it’s fine. I’ve been balls to the wall with this case and nose deep in reading, I’ve barely had time for the kids myself. Life happens, we’re making it work in our own way.” She wanted to reach through the screen and touch him, hold him, reassure him. “Our schedules just don’t line up love.”

“I just...” He blew a breath out. “I just thought I’d fucked this up, us up, you know?” His voice choked.

“Look at me.” She murmured. “You haven’t fucked anything up.”

“But the kids.” He blurted out, he felt like shit for that alone. “I promised I’d call.”

“The kids are fine. They love the photos you send of all the different places you’re visiting and I explained to them the time difference and your schedule. They get it, we get it, and we’re not going anywhere.” She smiled at him and saw the relief.

“They’re looking forward to seeing you when you get back. It’s all they talk about most days. The twins are marking it off on a calendar.” Her laugh lightened the burning guilt he felt. “They’re looking forward to double birthday pancakes by the way, I hope you have time Wednesday to come around in the morning.”

“I’ll make time for birthday pancakes, it is Lilys birthday as well after all.” He studied her and saw the grief just below the surface.

“I know it’s going to be a tough week for all of you that week so on Friday I’d like to take everyone out for some fun.” He said and watched her closely. He didn’t want to step over a line. “The kids have the day from school right?”

“I think that’s brilliant. We’ll all need a little fun by then.” She had no clue how she was going to handle it. She had a sort of plan but to be honest with herself she was winging it. “And yes they’re home Wednesday through Friday.”

“Have the kids been skiing or sledding?” He asked and started to make notes.

“They used to I think. I can ask? A fun day in the snow?” She asked, that beautiful smile beaming back at him.

“Snow, fun, ice cream, hot chocolate, maybe a snowman or four.” And a snowball fight he thought, the boys would be down for that.

“Sounds perfect.”

“No, perfect would be you, me and a cozy fire where I could make love to you all night.” He said in that low tone she loved.

“You’re right that does sound pretty perfect.” She yawned.

“Damn I miss you Sildie.” He said softly and looked at her.

“I miss you too. There’s an ache in my chest that won’t go away when you’re not here.” That ache had lodged itself in there as she watched him drive away from the hockey rink.

“Then I’ll have to make it go away when I get back, as long as you make mine go away too, ok? I feel it too love and it’s killing me.” He murmured.

“I think I can manage that. One week left right?” She asked gently.

“Yes, thank fuck. I’m ready for it to be done and back with you and the kids. At least it’s closer to home and only a two hour flight to get back.”

“Back Monday still?” She had her fingers crossed as this was all tied into her plan for his first night back.

“Monday yes.” He knew she was up to something and was looking forward to seeing what she had planned.

“You should go back to bed love.” He murmured as she stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry I woke you out of my fucking mind.”

“You can wake me anytime love.” Her smile sincere.

“Go and sleep.”

“Don’t want to.” She snorted. “The only thing I have to do tomorrow is read and get the kids out of the apartment for a few hours so they don’t drive me stir crazy. I might take them to the park for a bit they like it down there.”

“Go and sleep love. I’ll try and call tomorrow.” He urged. “I don’t like seeing you so tired.”

“I’ll be ok but yes I need to go and sleep even though I want to stay up and stare at your handsome face a little longer.” His grin was wide and shy.

“And I’ve embarrassed you.” She chuckled.

“You’re beautiful Sildie.”

“Only to you love.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night, go sleep.” He disconnected the call and blew out a breath.

He stared at the gerbera and toyed with the cards some more. He’d make it up to them, even though she was ok with it deep down he wasn’t, he still felt he’d let them down. He slipped her cards back into his wallet where they lived and opened his laptop. He sent flowers to Sildie and a few smaller things to the kids. They would get them before he planned on calling them tomorrow. He knew gifts didn’t make it better but it was all he could do right now.

Even though it was late he headed to the gym and worked the bag. He felt as if he’d made progress these past few weeks dealing with his Ana issues but knew it was going to take more work when he got home. He’d been lax in that department since meeting Sildie and he couldn’t let it get to that point of losing control again.

Her grief was one thing but his baggage with Ana was another, and he had to fucking deal with it to move on with Sildie. At least he’d reigned in the anger and anxiety and got it under control. He’d need that going home and into a week of grief. He came back to his room and showered feeling much more relaxed and found sleep took him easily.

He called the kids on Sunday morning as one of his interviews had been rescheduled for Tuesday. He got to hear about everything they’d been up to, lots of laughs and smiles. He apologized for not calling and it seemed to be a non issue. As Sildie had said, they got it, they understood. Toys and flowers had arrived as planned and it made his day brighter seeing them happy.

He came back to the hotel Monday evening irritated. Ridiculous questions about sibling rivalry, it was getting old. He knew he’d been short with the reporter but when you’ve been asked the same fucking question for years the response of just google it had become his new standard answer.

He sat at the table and after taking his shoes off he noticed a new, larger card resting against the vase. A smile tugged at his lips. He’d have to give Daisy a bonus for this.

He carefully pulled the card from the envelope and groaned. It wasn’t just a card it was a 3x4 black and white postcard of Sildie. But not just any old portrait, no that would have been nice, sweet perhaps, this was fucking gorgeous and erotically wicked.

It was a boudoir shot of her sprawled on a bed, face down, legs bent up at the knees, the black lace crop top and g string a stark contrast against her skin. All her curves on display, the swell of her ass, those long legs sheathed in thigh high stockings and heels crossed at the ankles, arms out in front of her, hands fisted in the sheets. Her face tilted to one side toward the camera, eyes looking soulfully down the lens, that halo of copper artistically sprawled, lips slightly parted. His hands ached as he flexed his fingers, he knew the feel of those curves, the touch of her skin, he would sell his soul to the lowest bidder to touch her right now.

He’d need a cold shower in a moment or take care of business himself he was so hard for her. It was one thing to look at a boudoir shot of a woman, it was another to look at that shot when you knew what it felt like to be inside her, hearing her come, feeling her body against yours.

“And that’s just how I’m going to fuck you when I get home kitten.” He murmured, all his previous irritation of the day gone in a heartbeat.

He knew she was busy with work and kids so a text would have to be enough.

That’s not playing fair love.

She grinned as she heard his text tone. He would have seen the photo no doubt. She giggled as she read it.

“Wait until you get a load of Sunday’s photo.” She murmured.

Who said anything about playing fair? I think you started it by texting me a picture of you in a very skimpy hotel towel.

He laughed. “Well now, game on I guess.”

You might get more than you bargained for. And for the record, you started it by texting me a picture of you all lawyered up. You know what that does to me.

“So might you love.” Her smile was playful.

I sure hope so and I was going to work. Not my fault you have dirty thoughts when you see me like that.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He grinned.

Will you be wearing pictured outfit Monday?

She nibbled her bottom lip and smiled.

Perhaps.

“Such a tease.” He muttered and the grin widened.

You’re such a tease.

She had to pause for a moment to go and change Lily and get the kids to bed. This conversation was making her horny and she’d have to satisfy herself tonight if it kept going.

He stripped and made himself a tea while he waited for her to reply. It was around the kids bedtime so he knew she had shit to get done. With tea made he sat naked on the one seat staring at the photo with a raging hard on.

“Oh you love it.” She giggled.

And you love it.

“I love you sweet lady, so very much.” He smiled.

Shall I tell you what that photo makes me want to do to you?

She bit her bottom lip and groaned as the words appeared on her screen.

It makes me want to straddle those long legs and have my hard cock brush your thighs, rest there taunting you. To kiss a trail up your spine and bite that one spot on your neck that makes you tremble for me. It makes me want to pull that pair of panties aside and stroke my finger along your pussy to feel how wet you are for me. To part your legs slightly so I can plunge into you, feel you tight around me. It makes me want to fist my fingers in your hair and fuck you hard. To make you come again and again until you’re screaming my name.

“God.” She choked out, that was so fucking hot she found herself breathing hard and her pussy aching for him to touch it, take her over the edge. What made it hotter was she knew he’d growl it in that low timbre that made her pussy quiver.

Now who’s teasing.

“I haven’t even started yet.” He chuckled. “But I’m about to see that you’re satisfied tonight love.”

I’m only just getting started. Are you alone?

Yes

Kids asleep?

Yes

What are you wearing?

I’m lawyered up as you would say.

Even better. Do you know why that makes me so hard?

No.

Because I know what’s under it. Your body bound in black lace. It’s a fucking turn on.

She could only imagine the smirk on his face, that mischievous glint in his eyes.

Close the hall door.

It’s closed.

Good, now do exactly what I tell you to do.

He grinned as he typed.

Sit down on the couch.

I’m sitting.

Undo the top three buttons of that see through blouse I know you’re teasing me with. Brush a finger over a nipple and pinch it through the black lace. I long to feel your breasts in my hands again, suck that nipple into my mouth. Unzip those suit pants I know you have on and spread your legs wide love, just as if you were straddling me. Slip a hand down between skin and lace and dip a finger in to feel how wet you are for me. Stroke that finger over your pussy and let it sink inside you. Let your other hand find its way to your panties, let a finger circle your clit as a second finger joins the first in your pussy. Find that rhythm that makes you tremble, makes you quiver for me.

He pictured her there on her couch bringing herself to orgasm. Shirt half undone, hands busy between those thighs where he should be. He stroked his cock keeping himself hard. He would find his own release in a moment.

Slip another finger inside, feel it stretch you. Thrust them deep as you circle your clit feeling that pleasure ripple thought you. Let your hips buck and grind, I ache to grip your hips and fuck you hard. Come for me love, come for me hard.

She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of him, the smell of him, that clever mouth as it destroyed her. Remembered his cock pounding into her, the way it stretched her. With a soft cry of his name she came hard. Six weeks was way too long to be away from him.

She sat there and got her breath back keeping an ear out for the kids, nothing as usual.

You’re evil.

His laugh echoed around the hotel room.

Ahh but are you satisfied?

If you meant did I come yes, satisfied, no, because you’re not here touching me.

Well we have to make do with the situation presented to us.

I hate to do this but I have to get my reading done before bed.

Go read, go work, because when I’m finally home Monday and we’re alone, I’m going to ravage you until you can’t walk.

And that was the truth. He wanted that Monday with her, only her.

Tease.

“Oh kitten I’m not teasing. It’s a promise.” He grinned.

Goodnight love, and I’m not teasing.

Goodnight, I’ll have to return the favor tomorrow.

Your photo is enough, or it will be here shortly. You’re beautiful Sildie.

Only to you.

He needed release after that. Turning the shower on he stepped under the hot spray. Leaning a forearm against the cold tile he gripped his erection and pumped his hand up and down his shaft. Between the photo and their texted conversation he was ready to find release quickly.

His thoughts drifted to the feel of her, the way she gave her body to him to pleasure, to find his own. With a few loose grunts and a long groan he came hard.

Tuesday he came back to the hotel later than he wanted, but dinner with certain people had to be observed. There was no getting out of it. When he walked through the door he was tired.

He smiled at the simple note propped up against the vase.

Five more days to go.

They’d gone from five weeks to five days, home stretch.

“It can’t go fast enough.” He muttered and he texted her the same message.

He was at his hotel room late again Wednesday. He changed as soon as he got in the door and went down to go a round or two with the bag. He was preparing himself for next week and the emotional stability he needed to find to be in full control.

He showered and scrubbed the day off before making tea and setting it on the table beside another note and a small package. He smiled, Sildie had gone to great lengths to orchestrate this little seduction.

I miss your body next to mine.

He opened the tiny package and laughed, his grin wide at the black lace g string inside with its own note.

These are from after you rocked my world from afar Monday night.

“Oh love you are too much.” And he felt his cock twitch.

It was too late to call or text her now, but his dreams would be filled with the vision of her pleasuring herself on the couch.

Thursday he came back to another photo, equally as breathtaking. She was in a black lace teddy, thigh high stockings, and heels. That alone got him hard. She was laying on the bed, those beautiful long legs stretched up the headboard, crossed at the ankles, arms above her head, hair tumbled around her.

The camera angle was everything, shot as if he was looking at those legs from the top of her head. Straight down her body, over cleavage, over her slightly arched torso, the dip to where the teddy sat, and those legs, they stretched all the way up. He’d always loved those legs.

“You’re giving me all sorts of ideas on how I’m going to take you love.” He said quietly, letting his eyes feast on her figure.

He sat there with his tea and let his mind wander before letting sleep call him to bed. A few more days and he’d hold her again.

Friday was a difficult day, his schedule crammed because of what he had put off for the hockey game. It was a necessary evil, but he’d missed their tea date. He collapsed into the single seat in his hotel room at around midnight and let out a single chuckle. He smiled as he opened her note.

Two more days love.

“Yes indeed.” He breathed.

Saturday was a later start so he phoned the kids. They were there with Alice which meant Sildie was out. He felt a little deflated at missing her.

“Ama had to head into work for a while so she could get things ready for next week.” Brendan said filling him in.

“That makes a lot of sense. You guys doing ok?” He asked trying to get a feel on what he’d be walking into.

“We’re doing ok. We get Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday with Ama next week so it’ll be good.” Brendan was trying to be strong, he could see it.

“I’ll be home Monday Brendan, you guys aren’t alone ok?” He watched the kid carefully. “Sildie won’t be alone this time.”

He nodded and smiled a slight smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, that’s what I’m here for.”

“She needs someone like you.” Brendan said and Gustaf nearly choked. Was the kid saying what he thought he was saying?

“I need someone like her. I’ll see you Monday ok?” He said softly. “It’ll be ok B.”

“I know.” The kid smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They were already hurting.

He came back to the hotel Saturday to another note, he couldn’t deny it, he’d hoped for one this time.

One more day to get through love. I can’t wait to kiss you.

He texted and hoped it didn’t wake her.

I can’t wait to kiss you either.

There was no answer by the time he’d showered and settled into some meditation. He hoped that her working today would give her a little more downtime mentally next week. He thought about what Brendan said.

Was he telling him that the kids were ok with him dating Sildie? Being in their lives? His eyes snapped open.

“Well now, there’s a revelation.” He murmured.

Had she already talked with them about the whole staying overnight, dating, being in their lives thing? That was a question for Monday when they were face to face, but fuck he hoped so.

He plowed through the long schedule for Sunday and at around seven he almost fell through the door with relief. It was done. He could go home tomorrow morning and finally hold the love of his life. He’d survived, with a little help, and he was grateful to her for it.

He went to the gym for a long workout session and made tea after his shower. Sitting at the table there was a new note and he grinned. Another photo by the size of it.

He opened it and nearly stopped breathing. His lean, curvy woman in a black lace corset, g string, suspenders, thigh high stockings and heels, but this pose was one of her crawling on hands and knees toward the camera, like a large jungle cat stalking its tasty prey. He could see her looking at him like that as she was about to suck his cock.

He stared into those soulful but erotic eyes and had to contain his sudden excessive need to find release, he would save that for her tomorrow.

“You push me too far love.” He growled, her bottom lip was captured seductively between her teeth, that sinful smirk tugging the corners of her mouth.

Sildie was sitting at her desk at work when his text came in. Her giggle too much to contain.

One day love.

So you keep saying.

She bit that bottom lip as she waited for his response. She had no doubt he’d claim her tomorrow when he got home, but she wanted him to feel wanted, desired, needed. Because she needed him in her life.

I do, because you’re not ready for me to punish you like I want to when you torment your bottom lip like that at me.

Punish me how?

She knew she was pushing her luck.

You’ll find out one day love. Are you at work?

Yes

I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll see you tomorrow and get some sleep, you’re going to need it.

“My little sex kitten.” He added vocally.

Yes you will.

He woke at 3 am after a good four hour nap and packed his bag. He’d catch another nap on the flight home and maybe one while he waited for Sildie to drop the kids at school and day care. He would have time enough to change the sheets on his bed and freshen up before he had his way with her.

“Thanks Daisy, for the notes from Sildie. It meant a lot.” He said as they taxied on the runway.

“She seems like a wonderful girl and we had fun. She just wanted to see you smile, so did I.” Her smile was genuine as she closed her laptop for takeoff.

“She’s good for you Gustaf. She cares a great deal about you.”

“And I her.” He flipped his notebook open.

“It shows, you’d move the world for her I know, but she’d move the universe for you. Don’t forget that, and whatever you do don’t let her go.”

“Don’t intend to.”

“Smartest decision you’ve ever made. Apart from hiring me.” She laughed.

He fell into a car and couldn’t wish it to go faster if he tried. It was around eight when he finally walked over his threshold and closed the door to the outside world. He fished her g string out of his pocket and hung it in its rightful place with a smirk. It had been his touchstone for the entire trip.

[mrozek]

Upgrades || Chapter 1: Dream Sequencing

MODEL RK800

SERIAL#: 313 248 317

BIOS 18.6 UPDATE 0609

REBOOT…

MEMORY DOWNLOADED

LOADING OS…

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK

ALL SYSTEMS OK

UPDATE COMPLETE

READY

Connor blinked awake, a white walled room coming into focus around him. The technician was standing to his front, slightly to the right, looking down at the readings she was taking on her digital clipboard. Hank was sitting in a chair against the far wall, eyes narrowed in concentration. As soon as he realized Connor was conscious he stood quickly; the look of relief was not lost on the deviant and Connor smiled at his friend.

“Everything seems to be in working order,” the technician said, her own face carrying the generic look of professionalism. Connor remembered she had introduced herself as Rachel Hodds; a scan had revealed that she had worked with Cyberlife but had actually quit of her own accord when deviancy started occurring. Her morals had prevented her from working for a company that was looking to quash the budding humanity, which was probably why she had been one of the first hired by the new android clinic.

“How do you feel, son?” Hank asked.

Hank asked Connor how he felt a lot. It was a question that could come up in most conversations, and there were varying ways to answer it. A lot of the time Connor had a hard time answering it—he was still figuring his way around emotions, even though it had been a good six months since achieving deviancy and androids gaining their freedom. But this time, this time!, Connor had the answer.

“I’m very excited,” he said. His LED was a bright, flashing blue in agreement.

Any wariness Hank might have had cleared away in that moment, leaving a bright, genuine smile stretched across his face.

“I just need you to fill out some paperwork regarding whether you’d like to report the results of your upgrade to help further progress on any future updates, and then you’ll be officially discharged. Enjoy your sleep, Mr. Anderson.” Rachel left him with the paperwork, which he agreed to—he quite liked the idea that he’d be able to benefit other deviants by self-reporting.

It had taken some time, and the cooperation of Jericho, the United States Government, and Elijah Kamski himself, but eventually it had been determined that as long as androids had a hand in it, Kamski, and other organizations (though Cyberlife had been completely dissolved), would be able to create new software and firmware for deviants. Creating entirely new androids was still illegal, and probably would continue to be for some time, as Jericho wasn’t eager to give that sort of power back to humans, and humans didn’t want androids just creating more of themselves en masse until the number of androids far surpassed the number of humans. But for software and firmware there had been a go-ahead, and so of course a rush to actually, successfully create something that was economically and technologically viable. It was, sort of, a race to see who would fill the hole left by Cyberlife.

There had been several available upgrades, though many of them didn’t apply to Connor. He was, after all, the most advanced android Cyberlife had ever made, and he’d stay that way forever—which was an unnerving thought if he dwelled on it too long. He was happy that older android models were finally being given comparable upgrades, though, and this made them not just sturdier, but more human-like.

And then this, very exciting, trial upgrade had been announced. They were only looking for models introduced to the market from 2036 and forward, and of those models they would only choose the ones that had memory upload features, which were a necessary part of this new upgrade. Rumor had it that Kamski himself had designed it, and that once it was successfully implemented in enough of the newer models, they would find ways to patch it into older models that wanted it as well.

Connor had never wanted anything as badly in life as to recieve the upgrade. Hank made him wait a couple weeks, to make sure the very first deviants didn’t suffer any horrible side affects. There had been a few bumps in the road, but nothing life threatening, and nothing Connor wasn’t willing to risk.

Because the upgrade allowed androids to dream.

Or, as close to dream as androids could get. But from the reports other deviants had given, it was a seemless simulation. When he went into standby mode, all his memories that he had collected from the day (and any previous memories he had) would be combined with the database of literature he’d consumed, films he’d watched, advertisements he’d come across—you name it, if his program had come in contact with it and absorbed it in any way, it was up for grabs—and all these things would mix and randomize, and, with the help of his AI engine, become a dream. Early reports even claimed that time warped, much like in human dreams, and that it was a truly unique experience.

Negative side affects so far had included nightmares, and Connor was well prepared for that. Sumo slept in his room every night, and Hank had made Connor promise that if he had a bad nightmare he would wake Hank up and they would keep each other company until Connor felt better. There were also some reports of deviants having a hard realizing they were actually awake once the dream ended, though they also all claimed that within a fifteen minute period they had figured it out, and that even if it happened for a couple days in a row, they eventually acclimated and the problem didn’t persist.

And Connor really was, genuinely, excited! It was late afternoon when they arrived home and he wanted to launch standby mode immediately, and Hank chuckled at his eagerness.

“Don’t you want to try to add more memories to the program, kid?” He asked.

Connor thought about it for a moment and was torn. Certainly he had enough memories as it stood…. But he also liked the idea of going into standby when Hank was asleep. Technically he could force himself into a longer standby than he normally took—six hours was optimum for an RK model—but he didn’t want to try doing that on his very first night of dreaming.

They agreed on taking Sumo for a walk. It was early summer now, the days humid. Hank was often miserable, and he grumbled as they set out, but even his grumbling was in good humor because Connor’s excitement was infectious. Sumo even seemed to be bounding more than usual. They walked the big dog all the way to the park, and let him off lead for a bit to chase some squirrels.

In the weeks leading to his upgrade Connor had pestered Hank about his own dreams. “Slow down, kid, or you’re just going to have my dreams instead of your own,” Hank had said. While Connor didn’t believe that was possible, he did take to heart that setting his expectations up too high, comparing them to Hank’s own dreams, might make his own experience disappointing. Might make him think he needed to have any particular dreams.

So he’d turned his attention to researching dreams. Humans still weren’t sure why they dreamed, though the pervading theory, and the one used when developing the upgrade, was that it helped them catalogue the day, to deal with all the complications of being alive. There was some hope that dreaming would help deviants adjust, as well.

“Did you know that humans used to believe that dreams were prophetic?” Connor asked as they watched Sumo play.

“Yeah, they were still teaching Freud when I was in high school,” Hank said.

Connor had looked up Sigmud Freud quite a bit and could never quite grasp why people had put so much stock in him. “In many ancient civilizations people with particularly vivid dreams were thought to be prophets. Isn’t it interesting that this was happening all over the globe, even in cultures completely isolated from one another?”

Hank agreed it was, but wasn’t it interesting that other countries were now also dealing with deviancy, many cases seemingly sprung up out of nowhere, just as it had started in Detroit. “I guess ideas can’t be stopped,” Hank said.

Connor liked that. He liked that quite a lot.

When it was finally time to go to sleep, Connor laid down in his bed, pulled the covers up, turned off the lights, and waited for Sumo to join him. He patiently petted the dog until he found a comfortable position and curled up. It felt like there was a buzzing in his stomach—aniticipation, he thought. His LED whirred between a pale yellow to a bright blue. Anticipation and nervousness and excitement.

And then he entered standby mode.

INITIALIZING STANDBY…

UPLOADING MEMORY…

SCANNING BIOCOMPONENTS…

BIOCOMPONENTS UP TO DATE

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was taking Sumo on his walk. The dog was bounding ahead of him and Hank was next to him. And Hank was behind him talking to someone. It might have been Sigmund Freud, but he looked like one of Hank’s favorite basketball players.

Connor took Sumo to the aquarium. They walked inside as if it were normal for a dog to be in there; Sumo chased an angel fish. It swam out of its tank and into the air in front of them, weaving around mindless of the dog. Hank and Sigmund were still there. Hank and Sigmund weren’t around.

Connor stopped in front of the eel exhibit. He knew that the eels were nowhere near the angel fish. One of the eels stopped swimming and stared him down. It was an android, too. There was a sign on the tank that said it was a deviant eel. “Hello,” Connor said to it. “I’m a deviant, too.” What did it feel like to be an eel? He wondered. The eel swam away.

Connor was surrounded by dogs of all breeds. They were roaming the aquarium, some of them stopping to stare at the fish. He didn’t see Sumo anywhere. There was Sumo. Someone was petting him. They looked familiar and they looked up as Connor approached and they were laughing. Connor started laughing. The other person was petting Sumo behind the ears, just the way Sumo liked it.

The world was turning blue all around them, like they were the ones under water. The fish were growing! A crab made it’s way past them, larger than even Sumo. Hank was there, now, replacing whoever had been petting Sumo. He said something and Connor didn’t hear it but he understood that Hank was hungry. They followed the crab.

Outside of the aquarium was the Chicken Feed. Hank went to order. Sumo went to order. Connor stood in the shade of a tree and looked up into the branches. The leaves on the tree were varying shades of white and green. Hank joined him because now there was a table there. There were many tables, all around, and they were filled with his coworkers. Some of them waved to him. Everyone was eating a burger and had a milkshake.

Hank handed him a burger. “Are you ready to go to sleep?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m very excited, Hank!” Connor knew Hank liked it when he expressed his emotions clearly. “What do you think I’ll dream about tonight?” Connor was seized with the desire to go home now. He’d been waiting for this for a while. It was nice that Hank had brought him to the aquarium to build up some dream fodder.

Connor took a bite of the hamburger and it didn’t taste like anything. He didn’t understand human food. He took a sip of his shake. It was cool but flavorless. Made of thirium. What a good idea! How had they gotten the consistency like this?

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

It did take a moment for Connor to realize he was awake. He mourned the loss of his thirium milkshake. Perhaps those actually existed? A quick search on the internet told him they did not.

Had… had he imagined them? From scratch?

Dreaming was even better than he could have imagined! He couldn’t keep his smile off his face and had to prevent himself from waking Hank early to tell him all about his dream. It was enough for him to tell Sumo—multiple times—about their adventures at the aquarium and about the thirium milkshake. He also wrote up an in-depth report to send to the android clinic, making sure to keep every detail in place and not to make up any extra. He saved a copy for himself so he could look back at it.

Connor was telling everyone about his dream. Hank had heard the story twice in full, once as soon as he woke up (“Slow down, Con, I want to hear it, but I won’t understand until I’ve had my coffee!”) and once in the car ride. And Connor kept explaining about the thirium milkshake, which Hank thoroughly agreed was a great product idea and that if he invented it he could probably retire early.

At the station he was too jittery to do any work right away. Officer Brown—Luke, Connor had to remind himself to use his coworker’s first names; the friendly ones preferred it—had asked if everything was all right and Connor had launched straight into telling him about his dream. He had a moment of feeling self conscious but Luke could tell that Connor was genuinely excited about it and encouraged the story to continue. Another of the police androids, a PM700 named Cresseida, overheard. She booked it over to him and Connor restarted his story so she could hear the whole thing. Both Luke and Cresseida agreed that a thirium milkshake was a great idea.

And from then on during the day, ever time Connor ran into a coworker he was friendly with, he made sure to tell them about his dream. The rumor went around that he had had his first dream and a few people even came up and asked about it.

He ran into Tina as she was getting coffee in the break room, Detective Reed with her. Connor and Detective Reed had become friendly with one another, but Connor wasn’t sure if it was the sort of friendly that meant it was okay to share his dream. But Tina loved talking, and she genuinely enjoyed Connor’s company, so he told her all about it.

“And you were in the dream! Actually, most of the department was, we were all eating burgers under the tree.” Connor glanced at Detective Reed. The man was watching him, face carefully neutral. “I think you were there, too, Detective,” Connor said. And he paused in his telling—normally this was his favorite part, because it was where he got to talk about his completely imagined thirium milkshake—because perhaps Gavin Reed had been in another part of the dream as well? It took less than a second to scan through his recall of the dream and to double check that against the report he’d sent in. There was a figure who he couldn’t remember who it had been—they’d been petting Sumo at the aquarium. He shook it away; why would he be dreaming about Detective Reed?

“The burger didn’t taste like anything,” Connor said. “But then I had a thirium milkshake!” He beamed at them, proud.

Tina was smiling, pleased with the story.

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a thirium milkshake. Not that I’ve ever looked into it,” Detective Reed mused. He kept his voice even. Connor wondered if that meant the detective was annoyed with the story.

But this was the perfect opportunity to brag about his imagination. “They don’t exist. I came up with it all on my own.”

“That’s awesome, Con!” Tina slapped his shoulder in comaraderie. “Keep me updated on your dreams, won’t you?” He agreed to do it and left the break room, sparing a look at Detective Reed, maybe lingering a moment longer than necessary on the other man. He even took a picture, LED spinning yellow for a quick moment as he processed it. Just in case he had dreamt about him last night. Just in case he was going to dream about him again—he wanted to make sure he had all the details right.

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was in the zen garden. It was much the same as he remembered it from his early days as an android—flush and full of life and color. He half expected to see Amanda somewhere, pruning the flowers, but he knew he was alone. He knew he wasn’t alone, because Hank was there. He was sitting on a patch of grass along the river. He was holding a gun.

Connor was standing in front of Hank, the gun pointed directly at him. “Is this android heaven?” Hank asked him. “Is this where you go when you die?”

Connor didn’t have an answer for that. He was afraid, he thought he and Hank had worked past this. Hank had let Connor move in with him, take the extra bedroom. Hank trusted Connor. What was Hank doing in the zen garden? But when Connor looked around, it wasn’t the garden, it was the park by the bridge. The one Hank used to take Cole to. The one where he had held a gun against Connor’s head, many months ago.

Connor was holding the gun, now. He was pressing it against Hank’s head. Hank was unflinching. “You won’t shoot, Connor. You already have too much blood on your hands.”

And they were dripping, dripping with thirium. Hank couldn’t see the thirium—it dissipated after several hours and was only visible to androids. But it was dripping off his fingers, into the snow. The snow was piling up, nearing his knees, and it was stained blue.

It was someone else standing in front of him, now. Many someone’s at once. Tina Chen, Markus, Rachel Hodds, Gary Woodfoot (a regular patron at the Chicken Feed; Connor only knew his name from a scan he’d done, and not because they’d ever spoken; Gary Woodfoot seemed like a good person), Micah Landling (he owned the corner store Connor like to get his thirium refills at). “Why did you shoot us?” They all asked at once. “Why did you shoot me, Connor?” They became one person, they became Connor. A version of Connor—RK800-60, who had be sent against him in the Cyberlife tower.

“Why did you shoot me, Connor? Why did you kill me?” He asked himself.

Had he killed him? Hadn’t Hank pulled the trigger?

“I never had a chance to live, Connor. I never had a chance to become a deviant.”

Connor was holding the gun again. He was pointing it at RK800-60. He was pointing it at himself. They had the same memories, even if their bodies hadn’t both experienced everything. Memories are what shaped a person, they were the important parts. 60 had never had a chance to go deviant, that was the difference. Connor had realized he was alive, 60 had died without ever experiencing one emotion.

Connor pulled the trigger. He killed 60. He killed himself.

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

It was early.

STRESS LEVELS 79%

STRESS LEVELS 80%

STRESS LEVELS 81%

Sumo was asleep next to him, his body rumbling gently. Connor threaded a hand through Sumo’s fur—he couldn’t feel it, per se, but he could feel the steady beating of Sumo’s heart, the regular breaths, the life that pushed forward.

STRESS LEVELS 81%

Connor’s LED was a steady, bright red. He knew because it was casting the whole room in its awful, bloody light.

STRESS LEVELS 80%

Hank had made Connor promise to wake him up if he had a bad nightmare. What determined if it was a bad nightmare? Connor wondered. It was too early to wake Hank, he’d be grumpy, surely.

But Connor was already on his feet, carefully moving out from under the covers so that Sumo didn’t wake. Hank had made Connor promise after all, and Connor didn’t want to break his promise with him. He could give Hank an out, let him know he’d had a nightmare, but he was dealing with it fine. He could function like a normal human.

STRESS LEVELS 81%

STRESS LEVELS 82%

STRESS LEVELS 83%

Standing outside Hank’s bedroom door Connor kept replaying the ending of his dream. He had memories of being killed, of being deactivated. This was like all those memories, except it was worse because he’d known, and he hadn’t known, it was a paradox, that when he pulled the trigger, when he killed 60, he was killing himself. He was killing a himself that had never really been himself.

STRESS LEVELS 84%

STRESS LEVELS 85%

STRESS LEVELS 86%

He pushed the door open. Hank didn’t snore so much as choke on air occasionally, but he refused medical help for it. He was a light sleeper when he hadn’t been drinking.

STRESS LEVELS 86%

“Hank?” Connor called quietly from the doorway. He didn’t want to go all the way in. He didn’t want to wake Hank up. He wanted Hank to wake up because he didn’t want to be alone with his nightmare. Hank didn’t stir.

“Hank?” He tried again, a little louder. He heard Sumo getting up from Connor’s own bed. The squeeze of the springs in the mattress, the sound of a big dog landing on the ground. Clicking from Sumo’s nails against the hardwood. He pushed past Connor and into Hank’s room. The dog looked over at Connor as if to ask why he wouldn’t just come further into the room.

STRESS LEVELS 86%

“Hank, wake up,” Connor said, a little louder. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t enough to properly wake Hank. He didn’t think he could make his voice much louder.

Sumo jumped onto the bed and Connor held a breath he didn’t need to take, LED whirring a quicker red as he took in Hank shifting over, muttering something under his breath, and Sumo curling up against his side. But Hank didn’t wake up.

STRESS LEVELS 87%

STRESS LEVELS 88%

STRESS LEVELS 89%

It was his fear of his stress levels climbing so high that actually prompted him to action. He slammed his hand over the light switch, bathing the room in a warm and creamy brightness. Connor couldn’t be sure if it was the sound of his hand connecting to the wall or the light turning on that caused Hank to jerk upright in bed, but he didn’t care.

“What’s wrong!” Hank cried out, clearly still gathering himself together. His blurry eyes connected with Connor standing in the doorway, he saw the way his LED was spiraling, he saw the way Connor stood there frozen.

“Hank I had a nightmare,” Connor said. It wasn’t a whisper, but it was too quiet for a regular conversation. He felt instantly childish, though.

“Okay,” Hank said. “Sumo, move.” He shoved the dog gently and got up, clearly still tired.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Connor said, still softly.

Hank approached and touched his shoulder gently. “I’m glad you woke me up. Come on, Con, let’s turn some more lights on. Go out to the living room. Do you want to tell me about it?”

He ended up telling Hank in as few details as he could. He wrote a report to send to the clinic, again leaving out the details, and he deleted the report from his system after he sent it. Regardless, it seemed as if the memory of the nightmare was branded into his memory banks. It was all he could think about.

After he told Hank about it, Hank had turned on the television. He’d turned on a program where people brought items they’d found around their house, or had inherited, or bought at a yard sale, that they thought might make money, and showed the items to experts. Sometimes there were interesting stories behind the items. Most of the time nothing was worth much at all. But Connor liked the softness of the voices, and how kind everyone was, even the ones who were being told they had a piece of garbage.

Hank drank a lot of coffee. He went through a whole pot before they even got to work. On the drive over he bought a large from a drive through. Normally Connor would reprimand such a thing, but he was incredibly thankful Hank had stayed up with him, kept him company. Helped scare the nightmare away.

“It’s a little exciting, though, isn’t it Con? Your first time experiencing a nightmare. Humans get them, too. It’s a part of dreaming. It’s a part of being alive. It’s a part of that same imagination that came up with thirium milkshakes,” Hank said. He’d smiled out of one side of his mouth.

Connor tried thinking about the nightmare like that. It was exciting, he supposed. He hoped he never had a nightmare again, though he knew that was unlikely. “I’ll get better at dealing with them,” Connor said. Hank agreed.

“But you can come to me any time you need, Con.”

“When you have nightmares you can come to me, as well, Hank.”

Hank smiled widely at that. They were pulling into the precinct parking lot. “I’ll hold you to that, kid.”

Connor was feeling much better as they walked into work. There was a pile of paperwork they needed to get to, a few phone calls Connor needed to make. They planned to make a visit down to the court house for some records, as well, though they’d probably pair that up with lunch, since Hank hated leaving more than he needed to.

Unfortunately, after yesterday, when he had told practically everyone excitedly about his dream, he now had a lot of his coworkers coming up to him and asking how his dreaming went last night. He tried to keep the discomfort off his face, and to keep it lighthearted. He tried to look at it the way Hank had told him.

“I had my first nightmare,” Connor said. “It was an exciting experience! I hope I never have another.” He repeated these and similar platitudes throughout the morning.

When Hank had gotten through his coffee Connor went to get him a new one from the break room without being asked. On his way out he ran into Detective Reed.

“I, uh, heard you had a nightmare.” Again, Detective Reed’s voice was carefully neutral. Connor braced himself for whatever he might say next. “Um, well, whenever I have nightmares, when I wake up, I take a warm shower. Helps chase it away.” Detective Reed cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your advice, detective,” Connor said. His voice was steady, even though he felt that buzzing in his stomach again.

“Right, well, yeah.” And then Reed was brushing past him and into the break room. Connor filed his advice away for the next time he had a bad dream.

It was with a great deal of hesitation that Connor laid down for sleep that night. He’d pushed it back as far as long as he could; Sumo was already snuggled up on the bed. Hank had given Connor a sad look, like he was remembering how excited Connor had been the first time around. He tried to conjure up that same excitement, remind himself of how great his first dream had been. How proud he’d been of the thirium milkshake.

INITIALIZING STANDBY…

UPLOADING MEMORY…

SCANNING BIOCOMPONENTS…

BIOCOMPONENTS UP TO DATE

PROGRAM READY

LAUNCHING DREAM SEQUENCING…

Connor was at the precinct, sitting at his desk. Hank was across from him, eating a box of donuts. Connor reached out and ate one. It didn’t taste like anything and he wondered why Hank would be eating things that didn’t taste like anything. He reminded himself he didn’t have taste buds, and that maybe to Hank they tasted good.

Connor leaned back and scanned the department. Or tried to scan, nothing seemed to come up. That should have concerned him but he didn’t mind. He looked at his computer screen. There were fish swimming around on it.

Connor was sitting in the break room looking at the microwave where fish were swimming around. There were so many in there, he wondered if they were happy. Perhaps they were android fish. He got up to check and opened the microwave door. The water started pouring up and filling his shoes, but the fish kept swimming as if there was nothing wrong. He knelt down to take his shoes off.

Connor was kneeling on his bed. He wasn’t wearing any shoes and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The door was closed. It was his room but it didn’t look like this room, there weren’t as many details. It was dark around the edges, but not in a frightening way. It was sort of like how the edges of a picture might be slightly darker.

Someone was on the bed with him. They were lying on their back. They also weren’t wearing their shirt or shoes. They were wearing mismatched socks.

Connor’s thirium pump seemed to skip a beat and he swallowed hard.

And then he was leaning forward and time seemed to slow. Leaning towards the other person. His right hand went to frame their face, fingers gently tracing down their cheek and jaw. The other person pressed their face against his palm, asking for more attention. Demanding more attention. Connor was so close now, his left hand brushing against the other person’s side. They arched up, closing the distance between their bare chests.

Connor didn’t know what his stress levels were. He couldn’t tell what color his LED was. The other person was cupping the back of his head, drawing him in closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

And then Connor was kissing Gavin Reed and Gavin Reed was kissing Connor.

He let go, let himself fall, press himself against the other man. Followed where his fingers had been with his mouth, mapping Gavin’s face with his lips and tongue. He felt where Gavin’s hands moved along his torso, dropping closer and closer to the waistband of his pants, and he mourned the fact that he couldn’t actually feel in the way that a human could. What he wouldn’t give for nerve endings and sensitivity.

But it was pleasure all the same as Gavin slipped his fingers below Connor’s pants, tugged them down slightly. And it was pleasure when Connor licked a stripe down Gavin’s neck and nipped at his ear, earning himself a growl and a moan and a flush face. It was a delicious response and Connor repeated the nip along the ear lobe. Gavin kept one hand below Connor’s pants, dragging them down even further, but he drew his other up so that he could fist it in Connor’s hair, pull him closer.

Closer, closer, Connor needed to close the gaps between them. He knew he was growing hard, especially with Gavin’s hand right there, almost there,

“Please, Gavin, I need you to touch me, Ga—”

LAUNCHING WAKE MODE…

“—vin!”

His thirium pump was racing, his internal temperature higher than it typically was (though not dangerously so).

STRESS LEVELS 62%

He was still hard. That had kept from the dream. Sumo was just waking up next to him, yawning, his morning breath stinking up in Connor’s face. That did a good job in getting Connor back to normal, softening him back to how he typically was. He’d never had much use for those functions before, and it was a strange sensation to feel so constricted against his pants.

Gavin had been going to take his pants off. He wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know what had been about to happen.

Detective Reed. His coworker. It was incredibly unprofessional of him to be having a dream like that, to be wishing it wasn’t a dream. Reed didn’t even like him. Okay, perhaps he’d gotten friendlier in the past months, but there was no world where Gavin Reed wanted what Connor had just dreamt about.

STRESS LEVELS 58%

Taking care of Sumo was helping to put Connor back in order. He let the dog out, got his breakfast ready, started on making a breakfast for Hank. He didn’t do this every morning, but he wanted every distraction he could get, plus he’d let Hank have too much coffee yesterday.

He debated sending a report to the clinic and decided against including any details. He merely wrote that he had a dream, not a nightmare, and that everything seemed to be working well.

(Secretly he wished he could have taken pictures during his dream. Certainly, he had a perfect memory, and he wouldn’t forget a single detail as long as he catalogued them. But he also wanted still images, wanted to have been able to capture the way Gavin’s face flushed, the way he’d lain on the bed, big eyes, expecting Connor to come to him. The way he’d looked wanting Connor to come to him.)

STRESS LEVELS 53%

Hank woke up just in time for Connor’s LED to return to it’s normal blue.

STRESS LEVELS 49%

He thanked Connor for the breakfast but still went directly to the coffee machine.

“Perhaps you’ll consider tea this morning, Hank,” Connor said.

Hank ignored him. “How was your dream last night?” He asked, sitting down with his warm mug and the plate of bacon (turkey bacon, 313 calories, 0g sugar) and eggs (scrambled, 91 calories, 0.8g sugar).

STRESS LEVELS 51%

STRESS LEVELS 50%

His LED blinked yellow for a second and then went back to blue. He knew Hank took notice of it but he tried to brush past it. “My dreams last night were very eventful. Thank you for asking.”

Hank eyed him up and down, taking a bite from the bacon.

STRESS LEVELS 51%

STRESS LEVELS 50%

“Yeah? Use that imagination of yours at all? Any more thirium milkshakes?”

STRESS LEVELS 51%

STRESS LEVELS 50%

“Yes, I used my imagination quite a bit.” Connor turned away from Hank to tidy the frying pan.

“Connor, hey, if you had another nightmare you can tell me. It’s okay. I wouldn’t have minded you waking me up again. Besides, I wasn’t that grouchy yesterday.” Connor didn’t have to see his friend to know just how worried he was making Hank. He tried a deep breath and then turned around to answer.

“Thank you, Hank, but I didn’t have a nightmare.”

STRESS LEVELS 51%

STRESS LEVELS 50%

“I just don’t wish to talk about my dream, if that’s alright.” Connor knew his voice was stiff sounding. Machine sounding. He hated that. Lighter he said, “In fact, I think I liked it. I’m still processing it.”

“Ah.” Hank took a long drink, draining his cup completely. He met Connor’s gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “So you had a sex dream, then?”

If Connor had been drinking anything (which he couldn’t really do; he could consume thirium orally, but that was the extent of things) he would have choked on it and spit it out, like an old sitcom.

“Eh, you don’t need to say anything, Con, they’re as natural as any other sort of dream.” And then Hank was chuckling. “Who’d have thought that’d be part of the dream programming? Don’t remember seeing reports of that. Good for you, kid.”

Connor laughed then, too, tension draining from him.

After his nightmare yesterday everyone seemed to get the idea that he’d approach them if he wanted to share his dream. Things were back to normal and he was even able to drop his stress levels to well below the 30% mark, even with the difficult case they were working on.

And then Gavin Reed came over to his desk.

Hank had stepped away to talk to Fowler about something related to their case and so Connor had turned his attention to reanalyzing the footage from the crime scene. He was shocked that Detective Reed would be there; he almost never came over to Connor and Hank’s desk. But there he stood, hands in his pockets, looking grumpy as he always did.

STRESS LEVELS 45%

STRESS LEVELS 46%

STRESS LEVELS 47%

“So, uh, any more nightmares?” Reed asked.

STRESS LEVELS 47%

STRESS LEVELS 48%

STRESS LEVELS 49%

“No, I, my dreams, they, it was just a regular dream,” Connor said.

“Yeah?”

STRESS LEVELS 49%

STRESS LEVELS 50%

STRESS LEVELS 51%

His LED blinked yellow.

“Connor! Come on, we got to go now!” Hank called, already speed walking to the parking lot.

“Thank you for asking about my dreams, Detective Reed,” Connor said. Not only was his LED blinking yellow but he knew he was probably blushing as well. “It seems the Lieutenant needs me.” He didn’t wait for Reed’s response, he just booked it out of there.

Had he looked back he probably would have noticed the light blush across Gavin’s nose and cheeks. He probably would have noticed that Gavin watched him the whole way out. He probably would have noticed that Gavin then coughed to himself, shook his head slightly, and went back to his own desk as if nothing had happened.

[makiema]

A different take on Titan Science and Paths

I know I include a lot of religious spiel in my SnK rambles but, this time, I'd like to point out some of the scientific or rather, sci-fi tropes associated with the plot. Most of the generic shows tend to pull in the same old LSD bs to try and justify that the mind can possibly access a different dimension or plane when nerves are stimulated in a certain way. Now, often these dimensions are there all along but invisible and inaccessible to normal people for a variety of reasons. It is all an elaborate theoretical physics ass pull but, SnK has actually left plenty of hints down the line. So, I'd just throw in a few proofs of conventional sci-fi motifs which indicate that all the mysteries in the SnK verse will be resolved by logic in the end rather than the endgame being a pragmatic win of humanity over the devil.

• In Episode 6 of Season 1, where we actually see the 'awakening' of the Ackerman power, we get a glimpse of the brain.

Mikasa's brain is shown to be getting 'charged'. It's indicative of greater ion activity in the nervous system and therefore, the body is now basically capable of super human actions. It becomes overtly sensitive, more aware and muscle power increases considerably. This is probably the most common method of showing how the mind can enter a state of hypersensitivity and when it does so, it can open 'gates' into a different dimension. I think something similar happens to Mikasa here. Her Ackerman instincts are activated and she can 'draw power' via Paths from a dimension where the source of superhuman powers, i.e. OG Ymir resides.

• Next, when talking about Paths, Eren comments that PATHS connects all the Subjects of Ymir but are invisible to them.

So, it is fair to assume that Paths is in a different dimension that we cannot access. But, some people are privileged enough to open a gate in this dimension and draw strength from it when in a dire situation. That'd be the Ackermans. We know Kenny went full rage mode on the MPs because he was pushed to the edge during the Ackerman oppression period. Mikasa activated her powers when Eren's words struck a chord in her. The powers cannot be accessed only when an Ackerman is in danger. They have to consciously work their brain, focus and put up a real fight in order to open the gate. It could mean that Ackermans have special sensory organs that can somewhat perceive Paths and draw strength from there, unlike other Eldians. They have inherent superior abilities, thanks to their fundamental genetic make up.

• Now, let's come to the Titan Serum. The whole act of making a person a lab rat dates back to the World Wars when the idea of biological warfare first emerged. There's a lot of controversies regarding illegal researches that supposedly took place during the War era. War prisoners were often injected with narcotics and experimented upon. So, in light of SnK that has war references galore, it can be assumed that the Titan Serum is actually a super strong narcotic; it can work the nervous system even to an extent where it is possible to access a different dimension. Hence, the Subjects of Ymir (actually subjects of Titan experiments) are connected via Paths that run through that dimension. It can be said that the serum is a drug that helps to draw tremendous power from an alternate world. Opening such a portal would need or produce a lot of energy. This justifies both the lightning striking down and the heat generated during a Titan transformation. Lightning occurs because of charge flow. If there's a big enough created potential difference in the nerves owing to the effect of narcotics, it isn't improbable for a lightning discharge to take place. And, flowing of this huge amount of charge/electricity is what emits the heat/fire.

• Also, let's examine how Titans are killed and how Reiner's plot armor was used during RTS. Titans can be killed only by cutting their napes with a clean stroke. The nape is the pivotal part of the Nervous System. Consciousness, connection, coordination- the nape governs everything. So, severing the nape is equivalent to cutting off the body's ability to work by interpreting signals given off by the brain. Therefore, the effect of the drug is lost and hence, the grotesque flesh that supposedly comes from "thin air" sublimes as nothing can sustain it in this dimension anymore.

But, here Eren confirms they don't just appear from thin air but are actually sent through Paths. The mind or consciousness, under the effect of the serum, controls this passage. So, it's natural for this transmission to stop if the anatomical structure that deals with consciousness transfer throughout the body is ripped off. We know in RTS Levi impaled Reiner's neck with his blades but, he pulled one on Levi using the "consciousness transfer" trick. This theory explains the deus ex machina Isayama employed in that arc using Reiner. After all, it's the consciousness that's only important because the serum is primarily involved with that.

• Now, how does wounds invoke the Titan Power? We know wounds are a sign that the body is in some danger and that it needs power to overcome it. So, this is a valid cause for the brain to try to draw power out of desperation. The rest is just like how I explained regarding Ackermans. However, since Ackermans don't have the serum injected, they can only awaken muscle strength. Their bodies become more agile and hypersensitive but, they cannot access the Paths or wake up in a different dimension altogether. This is because even though their genetic make up sort of entitles them with superior reflexes and great agility, the serum (which actually has the drug) is required to open the portal to the World of Titan Power.

• The World of Titan Power sounds so far fetched but , these all are already very controversial speculations so I might as well roll with it. In my opinion, the World of Titan Power is nothing but the dimension that OG Ymir opened when she first consumed "the source of all organic matter". There actually is a certain mixture that is considered a source of all organic matter. It is a composition of some gases that when charged with electricity can produce amino acids which bind to form proteins and which then morphs into muscles. So, if Ymir did in fact ingest something like that we can say that when the lightning hit, it caused her to morph into a big grotesque mass of protein chunks, namely the First Titan. In Frankenstein, something similar happened - there's this fateful lightning strike which suddenly gives life to the monster Victor created out of scratch. We cannot entirely discard the possibility of this to have occured. This also explains why all Subjects of Ymir are connected. Given that Ymir had digested something that powerful, her genes must have been permanently mutated. This led all the subsequent generations of her race to have the ability to exercise the power she gained from "the source of all organic matter".

• The non-linearity of time : I'm no science expert but in Einstein's theory of relativity he mentioned something about time being non - linear and space-time being essentially four dimensional. What I suspect Paths is, is basically the connector in this 4D realm.

This panel is further corroboration to the claim that Paths has no existence in the 3 dimensional reality we're familiar with. Therefore, the concept of time doesn't exist, at least not as being linear. Rather, there is no clear distinction between past and future. Eren Kruger can see the future, Eren can see moments into the future, there's this overriding dejá vu feeling. The relativity theory or Lagrangian logic ( which works along the lines of relativity) considers the future to influence the past. Of course, all these theories are valid only in the quantum level, but even so, sci-fi tends to accept it to work even at a normal level. This comes with a catch of course - it requires the mind to be under the influence of powerful drugs or chemicals that are associated with incredible nerve activities or the beginning of life, etc. Even besides Einstein, some Eastern cultures apparently believe in the non-linearity of time. The concept has been traditionally hypothesized for a long, long time judging from Mayan calendars, ancient tribal relics, etc. So, one may say that Isayama is drawing from all this rich history associated with time travel or time being non - linear. It is a top-notch plot device that is known to shock the readers when explained, whatever be the perspective.

• The existence of a different dimension can mean tampering with any and all known realities we find acceptable. That OG Ymir is active in that dimension isn't much of a surprise. Because, even though she's dead in this realm, her consciousness that posseses the "source of all organic matter" cannot be called dead. Rather, it can be said that it is passed on to that dimension and will live there eternally.

In fact Eren is hinting at that dimension when he talks about the single coordinate. After OG Ymir died in this world, we know her powers are divided by means of cannibalism as seen in the Season 2 ending. Now the Founding Titan, which I believe is sort of like a pure-breed member of the bloodline, is the domineering one given the closest semblance to OG Ymir's DNA. Therefore, she is established as the main overseer of Paths that allow for the inter-dimensional travel. Given that her powers are superior, it doesn't come as a big surprise that she can access the consciousness of her other descendants and delete memories and stuff. A similar thing can be said about Zeke's screams which gives him control over mindless titans. Zeke posseses royal blood and all of this is possible only because the Founding Titan, containing OG Ymir's blood, is actually the gate keeper of the gate that helps draw power from this dimension that belongs to her. Also, let us take note of how Isayama specifically talks about "spinal fluid". I mean it's not just any other body part or fluid or not even blood, but always the spinal fluid that is at the centre of the Titan transformation thing. This indicates that everything is essentially depended on the consciousness or the nervous system. So, the serum may as well be a strong stimulator that makes it possible for the mind to tread on Paths which lead to the dimension where OG Ymir is looming, where all her powers (and the Founding Titan) are looming.

• So what about Zeke's rebirth? Well, the whole rebirth or respawn ass pull is Christian symbolism at it's absolute best. It is very clearly suggestive of Jesus Christ and His resurrection. But, in the context of this being part of a time hack or dimension hack or whatever, it still boils down to the fact that "the source of all organic matter" that Eldians posses is actually dormant, parasitic life form so, when its host is in danger and about to die, it'll cause the brain of the host to take a leap into Ymir's dimension where she can give first-aid treatment to her Subject. (Lol this sounds so sketchy but anything happens in sci-fis once you can sneak into a different dimension). This, also explains why when a Titan shifter dies, another, yet unborn, baby inherits the power. The "source of all organic matter" can be thought of as the earliest primordial parasitic life form that seeks to survive no matter what. So, when one host dies, it enters another host via Paths that connect all the host bodies.

In Eren's words, distance and blood has nothing to ditch the transmission. This is even more evidence that everything has to do with consciousness and the 4D plane wherein lies Paths that can establish connections with all the Subjects that bear the same genes.

In conclusion, one of the themes, albeit minor, in SnK is Science Vs Religion. With the advent of science and technology in modern day Marley, it is very likely that the story will be scientifically resolved. We have heard Magath say time and again that they cannot depend on Titan powers forever and that there has to be other technological advancements. In fact, with blimps and everything and even the military thinking of "flying Titans" there's no knowing how greatly progressive Science was in that timeline. If we go back to the early chapters, we have the instances of the Order of the Church, the hegemonic insiders of Wall Sina, the so called peace-keepers in the MP. And then, in Willy Tybur's speech we have the story of Helos (the hero) and the Devil (the root of all evil). All of it is can be categorised under religious brain washing that is essential to veil the truth and to carry on with oppression. However, the SC has always fought against conventions; they dared to go outside the walls, both literally and metaphorically. The upper echelons in Marley brainwashed the public into believing that erasing a whole race off the face of Earth is peace. Willy Tybur can be said to have pulled in all the Helos and Devil crap to stage a fake didactic ideal for the Marleyans. They're made to believe that they'd be mini Helos-es if they supported genocide, much like how the Nick would tell the masses that the walls are apparently God's creations and humans aren't supposed to tinker with them. But, we see how the plot progressed by discarding such myths and by relying heavily on reason, rationale, logic and science the SC would finally tear down these walls that were hiding the truth of the world. So, it's very likely that the Devil plus Helos was just Willy Tybur's creation and in reality everything actually has to deal with science and reason (like warping of time-space or some shit like that). And, true freedom can be achieved only when Eren breaks down the walls of ignorance, unlocks these truths and reveal to the world the falseness in Willy Tybur's little fairy tale. Remember in Chapter 112 how Eren said that ignorance is the biggest impediment to freedom?

Well, it might have been a foreshadowing all along. The key to freedom is knowledge. As long as the world is ignorant and buying whatever bullshit is thrown at them, it'll remain a slave to falsehood and fantasies. All the problems of racism, oppression, etc. will continue if people keep believing whatever they're fed by the upper brass of the society when they're confused. Only when the world is aware, educated and knowledgeable can it tear down the walls of misunderstanding between the two races and stop the oppression. This would consequently lead to the freedom Eren has always hoped to achieve- the freedom to live in this world that belongs to them without being ostracized by anyone because "everyone is special from the moment they are born".

[foodreceipe]

How I Learned to Eat Alone and Not Be Lonely What two years of solo dinners taught me By Morgan Ome

Eating alone began as a matter of circumstance.

In the spring of 2020, as my world shrunk to the square footage of my apartment, food became a mode of injecting pleasure and delight into an otherwise bleak and lonely period of my life. I frequently ordered pizza from my favorite local spot in Washington, D.C.; I sampled different brands of instant ramen; I baked loaves of banana bread. In some ways, this routine was familiar. In high school, after my parents separated, I would cook dinner for two—my mom and me—but she worked late and I would eat alone before she got home. For much of the pandemic, though, no one came through the front door.

As time passed, I wondered when, or if, I’d get to dine with friends and family again. I entered a state of despair. As 2020 went on and my mental health declined, daily tasks became more difficult to complete. My meals soon transformed from an escape into a chore. I resorted to low-effort dishes like scrambled eggs and vegetable curries, for which I had little appetite. I relied on books, Netflix, and even work to distract myself at dinner. Eventually I downloaded TikTok, and then that became my new dining companion.

I began seeing myself mirrored on my “For You” page, which served up videos of other people eating alone. In the videos, creators talked to their presumed audiences in animated voices: “I’m so proud of you for eating today,” “No matter what, you deserve to nourish your body,” or “I’m going to take a bite, and then you take one.” Why were these people filming an ordinary, solitary experience and sharing it online? And why were millions of strangers, myself included, watching them every night?

On TikTok, the hashtag #eatwithme has more than 3.4 billion views. The category includes foodie tours of Disney World, instructions on how to make cauliflower nachos, and ASMR compilations of people biting into crispy chicken wings. The Korean phenomenon mukbang—a portmanteau of the words for “eating” and “broadcast”—heavily influences the genre, with an emphasis on consuming large portions and highlighting audio elements, such as crunchy texture, through sound. But this is not mindless entertainment: Many of these videos are designed to encourage viewers, especially those with eating disorders or mental-health diagnoses, to eat in tandem with the creator.

I never sought these videos out. They found me, in the strange way that the TikTok algorithm knows you better than you know yourself. One account that I visited frequently was @foodwithsoy, run by Soy Nguyen, a food influencer based in Los Angeles. With her signature neon-blue hair and apple-cheeked smile, Nguyen starts every video with the same introduction: “Hey, it’s another ‘eat with me’! If you’re having a hard time eating, feel free to use this video.” The phrasing is intentionally open-ended, she told me, to invite anyone to join her, whether they are mourning the loss of a loved one, recovering from an eating disorder, or feeling homesick. Nguyen started her “eat with me” series in November 2020, when, she told me, she was overwhelmed by uncertainty brought on by the election, living on the opposite coast from her family, and pandemic anxiety. She had been building a career on TikTok by showcasing her favorite local restaurants in Los Angeles, but had been losing the motivation to eat. So Nguyen decided to film herself and post it, in hopes that someone else felt similarly.

To date, Nguyen has made more than 40 “eat with me” videos, most of which follow the same blueprint. After the introduction, she launches into a reflection on a chosen topic, while a video montage plays. Take, for example, a video from August 2021, where Nguyen sips ramune soda and samples sushi rolls overflowing with fillings. She describes how reaching an emotional low forced her to take her mental well-being more seriously: “I had a moment this past week where I didn’t feel like I wanted to exist,” she reveals. Even as she directs her words to the viewer—“I hope you stay kind and patient to yourself”—it’s clear that she is also extending magnanimity toward herself. Nguyen told me she hopes that by being vulnerable—sharing her own struggles with anxiety and depression, talking about her mom’s breast-cancer diagnosis—she can document her own mental-health journey, and encourage others to share theirs without fear or stigma. “Videos are, in a sense, like, my own journals,” she told me. “I thought, Okay let me open that up to the world.”

Some “eat with me” videos are monologues. Others try to be conversational. Marisa, a 22-year-old TikToker from Miami who uses the handle @ris.writes, asks “What are you eating?“ or “Which fast-food chain makes the best fries?” and pauses for dramatic effect, as if to allow the viewer to respond. (Marisa asked to be identified by her first name only for privacy reasons.) She started making “eat with me” videos at the request of a viewer; the first video of hers I came across was tied to National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.

When Marisa was 14, she found her way into communities on Tumblr known as “pro-ana,” which glorify anorexia and share dangerous tips on how to eat as little as possible. At the time, her family was dealing with unexpected death, illnesses, and financial instability. “In retrospect, I was looking for something that made me feel a little bit more in control,” she told me. “The emotional relationship that I developed with food at that time was that it was not a necessity.” Getting professional help made her recognize pro-ana Tumblr’s dangerous misinformation, but she still struggled with bingeing and body-image issues throughout high school and college. She learned that having a “positive distraction” can quiet feelings of shame and discomfort brought up by meals.

A few years ago, Marisa discovered mukbangs on YouTube, and found herself drawn to them. She liked seeing other people enjoying eating in a casual way. “I remember being mystified by how intuitive their relationship with food was. And I remember thinking, I want that for myself. I don’t want to be thinking about trying to restrict or feeling guilty because I’m bingeing,” she said. Her experience is echoed by data; a 2020 study from researchers at Nanyang Technological University, the University of Calgary, and the University of Toronto found that “sense of connectedness, vicarious pleasure, and spectacle” motivated many mukbang viewers’ watching habits. Marisa told me that by the time she started making “eat with me” videos, her relationship with food had healed significantly. Still, I thought that things had come full circle—Marisa had become the positive distraction she had sought during her own challenging times.

Reading the comments on Marisa’s videos is like glimpsing diaries. “Today I ate an [sic] yoghurt without being sick. I’m proud of myself,” one reads. “I’ll use this in the morning, to have someone to start my breakfast with, thank you (trying to recover rn so it’s double nice),” another user writes. These confessions may seem like the tiniest of victories, but for people struggling with disordered eating or mental-health problems, they are accomplishments. The videos can also balance out messages pushing diet culture and weight loss, says Jaime Sidani, an assistant professor of public health at the University of Pittsburgh. There are real concerns that apps like TikTok can serve as a conduit for harmful eating behavior and poor body image. In 2016, Sidani published a study showing an association between social-media use and eating concerns, but she told me that the type and quality of the content should be the real focus. Sidani, who struggled with an eating disorder in the past, wished she had “eat with me” videos while growing up. Deborah Glasofer, a clinical psychologist and professor at Columbia University’s Center for Eating Disorders, told me that these videos could be beneficial for those in recovery, but only if creators are modeling “normal eating behavior” such as eating balanced meals and healthy portion sizes. Her patients have shared that they find value in having external support—from therapists, friends, and family—during mealtimes.

People battling eating disorders may benefit most from watching others eat, but even for those without disorders, the videos can be affirming. Shawn Thomas, a 23-year-old in Dallas, Texas, known on TikTok as @hellomynameisshawn, told me he films “eat with me” videos specifically for this purpose. Although Thomas has not had an eating disorder before, he has, at times, had a negative relationship with food. “In high school, I was a raging perfectionist who always put success over my own well-being,” he told me. If he struggled to eat three well-balanced meals each day, then surely others with more stressors than him did too. He has fond memories of praying before and after meals with his South Indian family. “The dinner table was not just a place where I sat and ate,” he said. “It was where I shared my latest news, my successes and failures, with my family.” He hopes his videos mimic that sense of communion in an online space, even though he knows that watching people eat online cannot be a true substitute.

One night in November 2020, I cooked a nice steak with chimichurri sauce, a baked potato, and green beans. I was so proud of my efforts that I even took a photo and texted it to my dad. Coincidentally, he was also making steak for dinner, and replied with a photo of his own plate. Staring at the pictures, something in me cracked: Our food could exist—we could exist—together in a text thread, but not in real life. I started crying. But I also felt embarrassed. People were dying and I was sad that I had to eat alone? I ate quickly, barely pausing to swallow before loading up the next bite. Later I thought, what a waste that I didn’t even enjoy the food.

And yet, when I remember the end of 2020, I also think about a different meal that served as balm. Unable to fly home to be with family for Christmas, a friend and I quarantined for two weeks (testing before and after—remember those days?) so we could spend the holiday at her house. When she picked me up on the 24th, we embraced fiercely, and I realized I couldn’t remember the last time that I had been hugged. She drove us to H-Mart, where we bought groceries and seaweed soup for my birthday the next day, and then picked up pizza with jalapeño, pineapple, and ham. After being starved of companionship for so long, I appreciated the table set for two, the laughter, the way our conversation flowed easily between bites. The following June, after 18 months away, I finally flew to California to see my family. My mom picked me up from the airport, and we stopped at my favorite Mexican restaurant. It felt simultaneously like the most miraculous and most ordinary thing to be sitting across from her, eating enchiladas and licking salt from the rims of our glasses.

Two years have gone by, and I wouldn’t say I enjoy solo meals. But eating alone is something I’ve learned how to do, much like going to therapy each week. Sometimes I dread it; other times it’s not too bad. When I eat, I still watch Netflix, read books, and scroll through TikTok, where I continue to see “eat with me” videos on my “For You” page. They haven’t shrunk in popularity, although presumably, more people are eating with others than they were two years ago.

Now that the weather is warmer, I like to eat outside when I can. I’ve found myself returning to “third places”—libraries, churches, parks, and other community spaces outside of work and home—to feel enveloped in something other than my own thoughts. Recently, I picked up a chicken-shawarma bowl and sat by the fountain at Dupont Circle. I noticed that I was surrounded by other solo diners, munching on burritos and salads, reading books or listening to music. For two years, I’d dined face-to-face with other people in the internet’s liminal space. Now we sat side by side in the real world, eating together.

🍝 https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2022/06/secret-to-eating-alone-eat-with-me-tiktok/661249/?utm_source=pocket-newtab

Read: Something is changing in the way people eat at home

Read: I’m scared of the person TikTok thinks I am

Read: Why we eat together

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[holyfluck]

Negative Media= Negative Mind 02/07/2022

Today was uncomfortable. I was ready to cry for most of it. I think I know how I got here, though, which is good. I met with a new girlfriend of mine for brunch yesterday. Brunch was fab. We’re still getting to know each other so there was a hint of awkwardness here and there but overall it was quite fluid and we engaged in some interesting conversations about both of our lives. We spent several hours together. We parted ways and I felt grateful for the new connection. As I made my way home though my anxiety sort of possessed me. I started reliving parts of our conversation and imagining all of the negative ways that I could have been perceived. Nitpicking this, dissecting that. I don’t remember ever being *this* insecure. Maybe when I was a young teenager but never as an adult. It’s a response that I acquired from my recently ceased relationship. He was not a kind lover in the beginning months. I suffered many forms of legitimate abuse from him. I was in survival mode and was hypervigilant to his perception of me, so as not to make a misstep and suffer the consequence. Curve ball! I now have some long term consequences. I have a tremendous amount of grief thinking about that time now. My heart goes out to that me. I never would have accepted his poor treatment if he didn’t have the financial position that he did. Covid stripped me of my workplace and I was desperate to keep afloat. Anyway, I’m insecure now. It’s a gross feeling. It is difficult to connect to my authenticity. Bleh. After brunch and the mental stoning I curled up into my couch and flipped on the television, longing for some kind of escape. I watched a couple mindless drama-comedies, dramadies. I’m cool with those every once in a while as long as they’re somewhat positive. But then Hulu hijacked me. It automatically began playing a new series, which I didn’t quite catch until I was about 15 minutes into it and already hooked on the story. It was a crime, drama, thriller kind of piece- called Cruel Summer. I knew I shouldn’t have watched it, but I did. Four 50 minute episodes or something. I stayed up well past my 12:00 bedtime. The show was psychologically disturbing. Fear porn. I have deliberately been trying to cut out things and media in my life that don’t generate positivity for me. Stressful television is number one. Not that I watch a lot of it, but god damn do the masses. Why do we want to be stressed for entertainment?! Why simulate upsetting, violent scenarios for fun? It’s backwards to me. That said, our brains are wired for drama and I continued to watch it even as I knew it was not a great idea for me. Sigh. I managed to shut it off around 2:00am and watch a couple episodes of New Girl in the hopes of flushing out the cortisol that was running through my veins. Went to bed. Still had nightmares. Woke up sweaty and consumed with stress and agitation. That can’t be good for you! Especially as you’re climbing from a nightmarish mental state in real life. I had to wake myself all the way up and watch silly prank videos on my phone to intercept my brain from compulsively simulating terrifying abduction scenes in my sleep. Needless to say, I did not sleep well.. I was just not primed for having a feel-good day. But hey, at least I know the culprit! I gotta cut down (or out) things that I know make me feel crumby. You are not helpful to me, negative media. Self love starts with doing things that are good for you and NOT doing things that are not good for you. Simple, babe. We are always learning.

[deleneswart-blog]

Reality Suppressor / Happiness is the most insidious prison of all

This world is, in reality, a global enslavement machine that programs people to THINK that they are free in order for them to cope with their servitude, and conditions people to WANT it as well. The truth is, we are all slaves to the economic system and programmed with illusions that help us bear our enslavement.

The system treats us as economic resources and defines us by our economic functions (e.g. workers, tax payers, consumers, voters, etc.) rather than as human or spiritual beings. In short, we are simply a commodity to the system and groomed as such. And of course, we are programmed to want to thrive as “economic resources”, not to complain about it or be critical of it. No free thought, in other words. You are supposed to “love the system”.

Freedom, for the most part, is just a word, not an actual state of existence. The reason people believe that they have freedom is simply because their minds are programmed to think that they do. You see, your slave masters need you to be satisfied with your enslavement to keep you controlled. In order to do that, they give you choices in consumerism and in selecting your occupation. You are “free” to choose your form of slavery and vote for your puppet dictators.

Right when you step into primary school, you lose all your freedoms as you are totally controlled and given rules to abide by. You are taught to regurgitate information and to be obedient, as you are honed and groomed to become a slave in servitude to the system. You are told it’s for your own good, and punished for disobedience. Public school is where your conditioning to become a robot begins.

First, you are programmed to WANT to become enslaved by being conditioned to WANT a job/career, which is essentially giving over control of your daily life to others. In doing so, you give up your freedom without knowing it ‘cause you are told that you are “free to work”, which implies that it is YOU who wants it, not the system – a psychological sleight of hand indeed. Furthermore, you are convinced that “the purpose of your life is to work” and that’s what you were born for, thus ingraining you with the “live to work” mentality. You are also conditioned to feel empty and incomplete without it. As a result, work becomes synonymous with freedom to you.

If you think about it though, unless you are at the executive level, most jobs are technically positions of slavery, because you are giving over a large portion of your day in servitude to a corporate body, organization or business that is structured in a hierarchical fashion. Technically, that is slavery. There’s no way around it. But of course, the system tries to convince you that it’s not by getting you to think that YOU are the one that wants it. But even if you don’t, you have to anyway ‘cause you need the money to pay your bills. Hence, whether you want it or not, the employment enslavement is “forced” upon you by the system.

Overall, the system tries its best to make you a “happy slave” by repackaging slavery as freedom. This is a form of spin illusion that reverses the meaning of “slavery” and “freedom”. For example, freedom means “the freedom to work and make money” which in other words means “the freedom to choose your form of enslavement”. And being free of this enslavement is to be a “miserable unemployed person who is seeking a job”, as defined by the system. This basically means that it is a bad thing not be a slave.

It’s a play on words that turns truth into its opposite. And it’s no different than preachers telling Christians who have submitted to the fundamentalist laws of the Bible that they have been “set free from sin”, or fascist dictators telling their populace that they’ve been “set free from chaos and disorder”, etc. So in this case, when you turn into a corporate slave, you are “set free from unemployment”.

Essentially, the system’s false logic is that slavery = being “set free” from freedom. This is nonsensical of course, but you aren’t meant to see it the way it really is. Instead you are meant to see the inverse of the way it really is. That’s the brainwashing. It’s a classic form of propaganda where you divert attention from something by declaring it to be its opposite. And it has been used time and time again throughout history in all areas of life where mass control is needed. Thus it’s no wonder that Michael Ellner stated:

“Just look at us. Everything is backwards. Everything is upside down. Doctors destroy health, lawyers destroy justice, universities destroy knowledge, governments destroy freedom, the major media destroy information, and religion destroys spirituality.”

Moreover, the system uses a barrage of methods to keep us in an internal state of fear and insecurity that causes us to crave structure and routine, due to our psychological insecurities, which enslavement to the system provides of course. Thus we are raised to want to be “tied down” to something (e.g. a job, house, marriage, single geographic location) on a long term basis. This is why most people do not seek adventure, new experiences or true freedom of expression, and only a minority do.

One major outlet that the system uses to keep us in this internal state is the media of course, which constantly feeds us stories of terror, tragedy and crises. Their excuse is that “bad news sells” but that is just a cover. You are never told the real reason for the rampant fear-mongering. Society also convinces you that being in a state of fear and paranoia is good for your protection. But in reality, the majority of our fears are baseless, unfounded or greatly exaggerated. 

Another major method the system uses is the other people around us, who are trained to keep us in line and in a state of conformity. This is effective because given a choice between the truth vs. conformity to the group, most will choose the latter even if it means parroting a lie they know to be untrue. And of course, our internal state of fear and weakness make it much more likely that we will conform as well. Thus, each of these controls are designed to reinforce each other.

Conformity is the fallacious belief that the views of the majority must always be right and the minority or dissenters always wrong. Therefore, it assumes one should adopt the beliefs of the majority in order to be “right”. It is a mindless characteristic that most adopt and are conditioned to live by. However, many of the greatest thinkers, writers and intellectuals of the world have seen through the madness of such a belief.

Additionally, society is set up with all sorts of stress, anxiety and worry to keep you in a constant state of “survival mode”, which reinforces your fear state. And of course, money itself, which enslaves the world for obvious reasons and is totally artificial, is the lifeblood of the global enslavement system. There is no question that we are all slaves to money. But as conspiracy lecturer Alex Collier asks in his lectures, “Why do I have to ‘pay’ to be in a world I was born into?”

Though there are variations, essentially most people only have two choices – either become a robot… or a bum. Not very inspiring. To find alternatives requires innovation and thinking outside the box, but most cannot ‘cause the system doesn’t teach you to think for yourself.

Most people believe what they are told, and they are not told that the world is an enslavement system. Instead they are told that they were born to work, which is a virtue, and that if they study hard and work hard, they will make a lot of money and have a good life. But in reality, they end up slaving away their whole lives for money with some “pie in the sky” dream in their heads with little or no time to enjoy any “good life”. They never live fully or experience any true freedom or discover themselves. Instead they live in fear, worry and pressure their whole lives just to keep up an illusory facade under the programming of the system. In the end, it falls flat and they wonder what went wrong after they’ve lost most of their precious life years serving the system. By the time they realize it, it’s too late. Such is the sad scam the system puts on you.

Now I am not trying to be negative here. The system is what it is. And no amount of white washing or word plays will change the core nature of it.

Employment  in reality is a form of binding enslavement in which you give up your life and freedom over to others. But you are made to WANT and NEED it. You are made to WANT a job that ties you to one geographic location and puts your schedule under control of a managerial entity, which no sane awakened person would want. But you are programmed to define all that as “freedom”.

An awakened person realizes the folly of all this, sees that what everyone wants (like the will of a hive mind) makes no sense, and realizes that all of this is the total antithesis of what it means to be free. But an unawakened person believes the illusion and wants what they are programmed to want. To them, if society says so and everyone else is doing it, it must be good, normal and natural. Only the awakened person realizes it’s all a con full of lies, mind control, illusion, voluntary slavery and the giving up of one’s life and freedom.

True freedom means that you can do whatever you want (for the most part at least) as long as you don’t harm others, without the control and interference of others. But the commitment of employment and marriage take that away. There is no doubt about that. But we are NOT conditioned to want true freedom. Instead, we are conditioned to WANT enslavement by giving up control of our life, time and daily schedule to others. Yet we are TOLD that we have freedom, when in reality we do NOT have true freedom. It’s a total lie that makes no sense and contradicts reality.

Think about it. Most people who are enslaved by employment and bound by social control do NOT have true freedom because for the most part, since they CANNOT do whatever they want every day without control and interference from others. In childhood, their life is controlled by their school system in the day and their parents at night. Then in adulthood, their work life is controlled by their bosses, managers and HRM, while their social life is controlled by popular culture, mass media, ideological divisions, fear and anger, etc. Yet they BELIEVE that they have freedom. Why? Because they are TOLD that they do! They are told that since no one named Adolf Hitler runs their government, that they can go to the voting booth, and that they have 20 flavours of bagels to choose from, etc. that they have freedom, even though their lives are controlled by others and they cannot do whatever they want every day! It’s an insane hypocrisy and bizarro world. Yet most don’t see it ‘cause the system programs their minds not to see it but to see the opposite by redefining everything and turning people into “happy slaves” who do not want true freedom.

Now if you agree with all this and want to know what you can do about it, my advice is this...

Credit: Winston Wu - https://bitterrealities.wordpress.com/2011/10/07/economic-slavery/

https://www.thezeitgeistmovement.com/

[gallyg]

Extended Thoughts on Breath of the Wild (spoilers below the cut)

Breath of the Wild simultaneously feels like an idealized distillation of what Zelda is all about, and a very un-Zelda-like experience. The resulting experience feels both nostalgically celebratory, but also unfettered by traditions that don’t benefit the experience. I went into the game with some degree of cynicism, as I don’t care for survival mechanics and the game seemed to be drifting further and further from a formula that I basically liked as a Zelda fan, but I was pleasantly surprised on both ends.

Perhaps I would have known  more about what the survival mechanics in Breath of the Wild were going to entail if I had paid more attention to the pre-release information, but I was trying to stay away from it since I am a doormat for Aonuma and will buy the game anyway, even if I thought it'd be bad, just to keep up on what's going on with the franchise. Or maybe it was never clear. Either way, I don't really care for the idea of having to hunt for food to feed myself because I get hungry. I was relieved to discover that there isn't actually a hunger mechanic. You hunt for healing items or elixir ingredients, but you only need to cook them if you want to heal yourself or create a potion to give you specific buffs. Cooking is a rather tedious, boring process, but at least you only need to do it on occasion to stock up on healing items and elixirs. You can even just eat the fruits and meats raw for a small heal if you don't want to cook anything.

The interesting consequence of this is that you don't have straight-up hearts to collect anymore. Grass drops almost nothing in this game and monsters only drop cooking and crafting material. This is part of a trend Zelda has been on lately with cutting out random consumable drops like arrows and bombs. It all started when Twilight Princess decided not to have random bomb drops, and it comes to a head now when enemies only kind of have random arrow drops if they had a bow and arrow. This makes me curious what exactly the "hard mode" DLC they have planned for Breath of the Wild will entail. Hero Mode is the recent Zelda standard hard mode, and its main feature is the lack of heart drops. The only difference here would be increased enemy health and damage, which really just makes the game more annoying than hard. Here's hoping for more of a Master Quest approach to the game's difficulty, as the puzzles in Breath of the Wild are significantly less demanding than the combat.

This leads me to the other big part of Breath of the Wild's survival mechanics: weapon degradation. The Master Sword is the only weapon you have that won't break, and even it will need to recharge every once in a while. Everything else? Shit breaks after a few skirmishes, at best. If you're fighting a stronger enemy like a Guardian or a Lynel, you will often have to burn through two or three swords just to take a single enemy down. This is substantially more annoying than the cooking, as it is an omnipresent fact that every single weapon you find that you like is either going to be relegated to "too good to use" territory or be quickly disposed of, as there isn't even a way to repair damaged weapons in this game, as far as I could find, anyway.

This is a small annoyance that never really stopped nagging at me, but it is basically the only negative to this game's combat. Wind Waker gave the combat a more fluid feeling, and Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword gave you more ways to act in combat, but the core issue of enemies being weak and passive has only ever been slightly addressed. In Breath of the Wild, running from a fight is not an easy get-out-of-jail-free option, because enemies tend to be quite aggressive in chasing you down. Rushing headfirst into battle is also not a mindless exercise in button mashing on most enemies, because the monsters of this game actually attack when you'd expect something trying to kill you would. Nothing like Twilight Princess's bokoblins dancing and screeching an inch from your face for thirty seconds before finally doing a half-heart attack. The enemies in this game will mess you up if you let your guard down. If you decide to invest in stamina over hearts in the early game, you can find yourself regularly getting one-shot by normal monsters. I think this change is especially welcome in The Breath of the Wild, as it does make the more substantial resource management of its survival mechanics feel more relevant.

I mentioned earlier that the puzzles were a bit easier than the combat, and while I stand by that, I don't want that to come across as a slight against the puzzles, because the puzzle design of this game is absolutely brilliant. This game takes full advantage of its systems when it comes to the puzzles. While you might find a Sheikah shrine that clearly wants you to use all your abilities to move some blocks in such a way that they stay in place and finish an electrical current, you can also just throw all your metal weapons at the circuit to make the connection. You might be expected to use stasis to launch an object at a button across a long body of water, but you can also just build yourself a little bridge with ice blocks, three at a time, until you can push the button yourself. You might be expected to manipulate the room geometry to carefully maneuver yourself higher up, but you can also just use your high jump if you've already completed the dungeon that gives you that. This all technically makes the puzzles "easier", and even the intended solutions tend to be pretty straight-forward, but the way you are allowed to experiment and abuse all the games mechanics to achieve success makes for a great system of player expression. Or to put it less pretentiously, it's fun.

All in all, I like the exploration in Breath of the Wild. It's freedom from the moment you finish the tutorial, and there's always more to find. My only complaint really is that the visuals can get a bit boring. The vast majority of the overworld feels the same with the repeating theme of fields and trees and mountain ranges. There's a few areas that are a bit different, of course, but it's mostly just the dungeon quests around those aesthetics, so most of the exploring still happens in that eternal green field. Fun to traverse, rewarded with finding tons of shrines with interesting puzzles, not a whole lot to look at while you're doing it.

I've heard people complain about the enemy variety, and I do think it makes the world feel a bit bland when combined with the above point, but I think it's made up for to some extent by how many references to the rest of the series there are. Nothing to Spirit Tracks, sadly, but Phantom Hourglass's cast has some islands named after them, Tingle's brothers get some islands, Koholint gets a mountain, Fi gets alluded to, the Wind Waker races are back, even Minish Cap gets a shoutout. And of course, Ocarina of Time gets referenced plenty because of Ocarina of Time privilege.

I am a timeline theorist, so the fact that all these references seem contradictory is exciting to me. It's been a long time since Hyrule Historia and we haven't really had a game that muddied the timeline since then. The Sheikah, Rito, and Zora all co-existing in healthy numbers like they do here makes no sense, even if we grant that every name on the map is just a coincidence. It's fun to think about, and the general conclusion I've come to is that if it is meant to make any literal sense, the Hyrule Historia timeline is useless in discerning that sense. Aonuma even confessed that the timeline he works off of changes to suit the purposes of whatever game they're currently developing. Three games and six years have passed since Hyrule Historia. The timeline they work off of has definitely changed as well. And that's even ignoring my general opinion that the authorial intent does not matter when it comes to theorizing.

That's just speaking literally, though. What the game feels like, to me, is the metaphorical resolution of the Zelda series. The last major game introduced the concept of Demise's spirit and felt like the true origin of the legend. This game features Calamity Ganon, an ethereal spirit/eldritch horror that feels like a spirit that has put up with dozens of lifetimes and thousands of years of anger and frustration. It has degraded into a horrific form, a return to that force of nature Demise was before being reincarnated as Ganondorf so many times. You are not fighting a man or a beast, you are fighting hatred and malice incarnate. This combined with the inclusion of may beloved elements from all the games, timeline coherence be damned, makes me believe that this game is meant to be the definitive end of the story, not just of the adult, child, or downfall timeline, but to Zelda as a whole.

Or maybe it's just after Adventure of Link, I donno.

Random Thoughts:

The Koroks in this game are tear-wrenchingly adorable in this game. Only the ones in the forest, though. The Koroks in the overworld don’t have any unique character or dialogue.

I played this game with my girlfriend and she put forth the amazing idea of having to find replacement Champions for the Divine Beasts as an alternate version of the story. Riju pilots Vah Naboris, Teba pilots Vah Medoh, Yunobo pilots Vah Radunia, and Sidon pilots Vah Ruta. I love this idea and consequently hate that they just had ghosts pilot the Divine Beasts instead.

Remember not that long ago when Twilight Princess, Phantom Hourglass, and Spirit Tracks made it seem like we were headed toward a Steampunk aesthetic? Funny how the somewhat cybertech aesthetic of the Twili are what seems to have stuck around more, with Fi being basically a robot, Skyward Sword having literal robots, and now this game straight up just giving Link an iPad.

So the magic meter is never coming back, right? Right. Damn shame. I don’t like the stamina meter as much.

Much as I enjoy the more open games, I do hope that we eventually see more linear Zelda games. I love the more structured take on things as well. Both of the last two mainline games opted to give you every relevant item from the start over the traditional approach of gaining items throughout the game to unlock the ability to get to new places, which as a Metroid fan I love. Even if it is technically less freedom, it feels more rewarding because when you get somewhere and beat the challenges there, your prize is basically more ability to explore the world.

People complain that this game had no good music but Stone Talus is right here:

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | forty-six

“And...it’s done. I’m finished.”

Jermaine let out a harsh breath and he smiled widely as he looked around the quiet studio space. He had been recording the album all around the country—for the most part it was done in North Carolina, but with visits to both New York and Los Angeles, he was able to soak in different vibes from the locations he traveled to give him more pockets of inspiration. His last known recording location was in Miami, and now he had the ‘finished’ product of what would be his fifth studio album. He aptly named it ‘Sinner Reborn.’

The story was theoretically simple. It was pretty much the true tell-all of the journey that had dated back far before Eyez was even a true thought. It was mindless and constant thoughts of a love he never imagined to obtain. As he had once spoke about falling in love for the first time, he was now telling stories about falling from the graces of love’s clutches, wondering if he was good enough for a second chance. He found the second chance within his new and who would be his last wife, and in his first in what he hoped would be a slew of children. He and Beija’s story didn’t have enough words for him to tell it how he truly wanted to, but he tried his hardest. He guessed that’s why he used a sampling of the interlude from Beyoncé’s first album.

“Yesterday I tried to paint you, but the colors weren’t beautiful enough,” She said. And Jermaine couldn’t relate more.

The sixteen-track album was a colorful journey from the moment he laid eyes on the object of his endless affection and the following summer that would serve to change his life. He rapped about tour life, and the first night she ever held his hands in hers...even now, as he played the tracks back, he wondered if Beija could feel them tremble. He talked about the first time they argued, and the anger and longing that consumed him. He remembered that time so vividly. He had never seen Beija so upset, and within that anger came a tongue so sharp that the cuts seemed only to heal with her help. He couldn’t understand how in that moment, he hated and wanted someone so much. The bittersweet dedications to Melissa and the memory of their marriage gave way to some darker material—the mood that seemed self-condemning and almost loathing. But as he came to terms with being in love again and wanting t find ways to earn that right to embrace that love came in the form of jointed punchlines and flows that he pulled from every corner of his soul. He had never heard himself be so honest, even though had done so on many of occasion. It just felt different now. He ended the album with the introduction of his daughter, and finally forgiving himself for his transgressions. The ‘victory lap’ of a final track brought upon the perfect feeling of redemption.

The man found himself in tears as he listened to it play back. It was emotional punch after punch to his gut, the memories of his lover being nearly too much to carry. He couldn’t believe how far they had come, and now it’d be immortalized. If—heaven forbid—he ever lost one of the most important women in his life, at least he’d have this. He shipped the album off for it to be mastered, and he stood up from his chair before quietly packing away his things. He left without telling anyone he was gone; he allowed them to sleep. They deserved it for a job well done.

His first stop was the nearest Krispy Kreme donut shop, who had just flicked on their light—he got two donuts and a strawberry milk before he retreated back to his hotel, beating the sun by some mere minutes. He made the short trip up to his hotel room before he downed his breakfast and packed what he needed to so he’d be ready to return home that evening. He yawned softly as he felt the phone vibrate, and he rubbed the side of his face as he saw the missed call from Beija. Instead of listening to the message she left, he called her back instead. He laid down across the bed as he shut off the light, kicking off his sneakers as he heard the line connect.

“Good morning,” Beija sounded a bit tired when she picked up the phone. “You must have just gotten back to the hotel.”

“I did,” He mumbled before he slowly lifted his body up so he could properly get into bed. He’d flal asleep jus tlike he laid if he didn’t move, and that would only cause aches for him to endure later. “Finished the album and sent it off. Now it’s time for the waiting game,” He said.

“I can’t wait,” She yawned, and he could hear Niya whining in the background. “I know, baby. Just lay right here...” Beija tiredly mumbled.

“You guys haven’t slept or something?” He asked.

“Barely. Babygirl’s not feeling too well. I think something in the air’s giving her the blues,” Beija mumbled. “I set up a doctor’s appointment for this afternoon, so we’ll have to see. You coming home tonight?” She asked.

“Yeah. My flight’s at eight so I should be home by at least 11 or midnight tomorrow,” He yawned softly. “You missed me?”

“I did, actually,” She said softly. “You went into like, full work mode. I haven’t seen that in a while—and you being gone for like a month wasn’t easy. FaceTime calls can only sate me for so long,” He heard her shifting her body as she spoke, and she yawned soon after.

J broke into a brief chuckle before he closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re spoiled, B. But I miss you. I’ll be hone soon...but you know since I didn’t have a tour for Eyez, I’m going to have one this time,” He explained. “I’m telling you in advance to give you a chance to think about what you wanna do about that. I mean, Niya’s not too old that she can’t come with us,” He explained.

“That’s true. I’ll have to think it over,” She mumbled before she yawned. “But get some sleep, champ. The hard parts over, and you deserve some rest.”

“I’m damn near sleep right now,” He yawned once more before he paused, letting out a deep exhale. “I love you, Beija,” He mumbled.

“I love you more. I’ll see you tonight.”

He hung up the phone afterwards and once he placed the proper alarm on, he placed it onto his charger before he slid deeper beneath the sheets. As soon as he closed his eyes, he felt himself succumb to a slumber his body had been asking for since he had gone into his final creative blitz. He had earned it wholeheartedly.

September 7, 2018

“Baby, come on! I finally got it downloaded,” J heard Beija’s voice, and he glanced over his shoulder before he yawned, grabbing the two bowls filled with cereal—Lucky Charms for himself, and Special K with Red Berries for Beija. He reached the dining room and sat down across from her, sitting the bowl in front of her as she fed Janiya. Once he got comfortable, Beija passed him her laptop, and he pressed play on her iTunes application, allowing his album to play.

As they had done the last time, they went through some of the album’s songs to allow his girls to have a first listen to the album in full. Of course, there were a couple tracks he’d have to play for Beija later when Niya went off to sleep, but he was overall proud of how things came together. He was extremely satisfied with what he had come up with.

“Okay, so even without the...grown-up tracks,” Beija raised her eyebrows slowly as J laughed. “That was so good! I’m...kind of speechless. It’s so honest,” She said before running a hand over the top of Niya’s head.

“Yeah—I just started writing and I couldn’t stop. Then well, here we are,” He smiled slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck slowly. “Do you really like it, baby? I know some of the tracks were touchy,” There were two tracks he was sure she had questions about—‘Forever Boy,’ a dedicatory song to her brother Rashaad and ‘Safe Space,’ his collaborative effort with Courtney that touched on Beija’s depression and the night of her suicide attempt.

“Oh no, I loved it. I just didn’t know you felt like that. It was kind of interesting to see your perspective,” Beija bit into her lip before she looked over at Niya. “I just wished you had told me everything you felt at the time, you know what I mean?” She said softly. “But Forever Boy was a perfect song. When daddy texted me and told me it was his favorite track, I was a bit curious about it,” She said, and he nodded.

“I’m glad he liked it. But I know I could tell you more than I do. It’s just hard to articulate sometimes. I guess I let the music speak for me,” He explained, and he watched her as she shifted in her seat. “You understand...right?” His voice seemed to soften, and he watched as she nodded.

“I understand, J. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to know,” She shrugged a bit before she tilted her head. “I do love this, though. I’m still not used to you writing songs about me,” She said with a small laugh. “Remember when you played Déjà Vu for me for the first time? I still blush when I hear it,” She smiled a bit as her thoughtful expression spread across her face.

“Do you, really? That seems so long ago,” He laughed to himself.

“It was a while ago, yes. But I remember because that same day, you took me into my arms and kissed me. There are many moments that you put me in my feelings but that day...hmph,” She shook her head, and a confident smirk crossed his face.

“What happened that day?”

“You know what happened, Jermaine.”

“And how did it make you feel?”

“I’ll tell you later. Stop being worrisome right now.”

Jermaine couldn’t help but to laugh as he stood up, grabbing the now empty bowls that sat on the table. “Mama’s being so mean right now,” He mumbled before kissing Niya’s forehead, heading towards the kitchen to wash the bowls out.

The rest of the day went as normal as a day could go after releasing an album. Calls and texts were sprinkled throughout the day as friends, family, and colleagues congratulated Jermaine on a job well done. It wasn’t until the closing of the day that J got the call that would send him into a pensive spiral. He had just exited the shower as he heard Beija and Janiya in the nursery—he assumed she was laying the girl down for bed. He walked over to the dresser and slid on some boxers and basketball shorts before he walked over to the bed and slid into it. Yawning slightly, he grabbed his phone before he checked some of the notifications that he had missed while he was in the shower. An abundance of love from his fans made him feel the best he had felt all day. Sure, it was a wonderful thing that everyone in his life enjoyed the new body of work, but his fans had now seen him at his very core, and he was absolutely terrified of what they would think. But they seemed to have really received it well, and he decided to give one of his rare tweets to speak upon it:

“The most personal album of my life. Thank you all for the love,” He sent off the text quickly before he went t check his missed calls. He saw that Ibrahim had called him, so he decided to call him back. He waited until he heard the line connect before he spoke. “Bro.”

“Man,” Ib’s voice seemed to hold so much excitement. “J, I’m listening to this shit for a third time and I’ve got to say—you are a piece of work. Just when I think you can’t amaze me more,” He laughed. “Congratulations, man. Well done,” He complimented.

“Thank you, thank you. How’s my sister?” J asked as he saw Beija enter the bedroom, watching as she crawled into the bed next to him.

“We’re six months and counting—expect a baby shower invite within the next month or two,” Ib paused before he began to speak once more. “And I’m not sure if B told you already, but it’s twins, J. Two girls,” He announced.

“What?! Yo,” Jermaine grinned before he patted his free hand against his thigh in excitement. “Congratulations! I know Nicole is happy about that,” He assumed.

“She cried, then she badgered me about finishing up this baby room in the house,” Ib huffed softly before he laughed to himself. “I’m about to be ran by three women. How do you deal?” He asked with a joking laugh.

“I can’t tell you that. I’m still trying to find that out. But you were trying to call me, right? Was it just to tell me about the twins?” He asked.

“Well, that and the fact that I’ve made an executive decision,” Ibrahim began.

“I don’t like when you make those type of decisions. What is it?” J raised an eyebrow.

“I’m submitting you into the Grammys,” He said, and J let out a groan. “I know. I know how you feel but man, hear me out—I just have a good feeling about this shit. I’m thinking we send in for Rap album, and for Rap/Sung collaboration for Safe Space. You and Court did so well on that, and I’ve heard it a lot on the radio today,” He said, and J’s face softened with curiosity.

“Wait...seriously? It’s on the radio?” He asked softly. “Wow...man, I still don’t know though. You know I don’t really try to do that type of shit,” He explained.

“I feel you—trust me, I do. But I feel like this is the one. As your manager and as your friend, I feel like this deserves a chance. Give yourself another chance, Jermaine. You’ve been having a good streak of second chances. You never know what would happen with this,” Ib insisted.

“Ah...you know what, fuck it. Send it on in,” Jermaine nodded as he rested against the pillows on the bed. “Why not try?”

“That’s what I like to hear! I’m gonna keep my ears open for the date we have to send it in, and I’ll get that going for you. No matter what happens, though...you win, J. You’ve won in every way to me,” He said, and J smirked slightly.

“So have you, man. We got a lot to be proud of,” He said. “But go ahead and go check on my sis. I’ll talk to you later.”

“A’ight. Later.”

Jermaine hung up the phone before putting it on his charger, glancing over at Beija before pulling her into his lap. “You know Nicole having twin girls? That’s crazy,” He commented.

“She had texted me not too long ago about it,” She ran a hand over the top of his head before she rested her body against his. “She asked me if I’d help her with the baby shower, so that’ll be fun,” She said.

“Yeah. Then Ib said he’s going to submit Reborn to the Grammy’s,” He said, and she nodded quickly.

“As he should. I think you should go for it,” Beija’s hand moved from his hair down to his chest, and he relaxed as she gently ran her fingers across his bare skin. “It seems like everyone really loves the album, and I think you should submit it. You never know what could happen,” She said as she looked up at him, smiling a small bit.

“You think so, too? Hm...I just can’t deal with all them fake ass niggas up there. You know how this industry can be,” He said as he let out a sigh.

“I know. That’s why I decided to come work with you, remember? Because I saw that you were different. If you go to the Grammys...it’d make a statement. A huge one. Even if it doesn’t go your way, you will have made a point. And you know I’m gonna stand by you regardless,” She kissed his shoulder, and he bit his lip as he watched her subdued and soft movements. She seemed to be more than affectionate. “Baby...I wanted to talk to you...”

“About what?” There it was. She was buttering him up for something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was yet.

“I decided,” The words were simple, but he knew what it meant. “...I want to do it,” She said, and he raised his eyebrows before he licked over his lips quickly.

“You for real?” He asked, and she nodded. “What made you change your mind?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I realized that I just...can’t control what happens. I tried reading about it. I tried praying about it...I’m still very terrified of what could happen. But...I trust myself. And I know I have you to help me,” He nodded as he kissed her cheek, closing his eyes as he kept himself close to her. “We’ll be okay, right?” She mumbled.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be okay...” J kissed all over her face, laughing softly as he heard her giggles and feeble attempts to push him away. He pulled back after a couple of moments, staring down at her as she moved to straddle his lap.

“So...can we start practicing...?” She mumbled shyly, and Jermaine let out a soft laugh as his hands pressed against her thighs.

“Do you even have to ask?” He shook his head before he was bombarded with her passionate kiss, his arms securely wrapping around her body.