#benefit of keeping things short is that the post doesn't get too long

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 2!

another week, another fic rec list, and another request to help us find this fic! please have a look and see if you recognise it <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a life for a life | icewhisper | 7.7k | T

The first time Ravi met Evan Buckley, he never got his name. He only knew him as the man who pulled him onto a firetruck during a tsunami before he jumped back into the water after his son. Five years later, in a collapsed building, it’s Buck who needs saving and Ravi gets a chance to return the favor. i love love love the idea of buck and ravi crossing paths during the tsunami, and this characterisation of ravi is brilliant!! oh how i miss the people's princess..

forever goodbye | withoutthetiger/@rewritetheending | 1.3k | GA

Everything has been blurry for a while, and Eddie begins to wonder whether he’ll ever see clearly again. It’s the tears, of course, ones he refuses to let fall, mostly because he thinks he deserves to carry the weight of them instead of giving himself any relief from the pain. He’d brought the tears with him to the front door when he’d mumbled one final goodbye to Ana, then blinked them away just long enough to watch Christopher set himself up with a puzzle at the coffee table. Now he’s back in the kitchen, barely able to focus on the mess around him even though it’s impossible to ignore. love is stored in (cleaning up the) kitchen <3 the pining is so good!!

he's thinkin' about me | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 4.6k | T

In which Buck wakes up with the ability/curse to hear everyone's thoughts around him. Which might be ok, if it weren't for Eddie suddenly calling him baby, but only when he doesn't speak. oh i LOVE a good mind reading fic and this hit the spot perfectly <3 petty bitch eddie my most beloved

i let my fingers do the walking | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 7.3k | E

Buck is good at jerking off. It’s a self-proclamation, obviously. There is no right or wrong way to get off. Buck just thinks, if there were to be a Masturbation Olympics one day, he would end up with the gold medal gleaming over his chest by the end of the tournament. this is hot and fluffy and funny and just the ultimate fic, really. so good!!

if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.8k | T

Now they’ve arrived at house number five, and Eddie finally snaps. “What is your problem?” He turns to Buck suddenly, interrupting Mariana mid-answer. She gapes at them, startled into silence, but neither of them are looking at her, so she takes a second to compose herself while watching Buck’s eyes go wide and his body twist towards Eddie. “What?” “You’re being difficult.” “No I’m not,” Buck argues immediately. outsider pov!! thinking about the poor poor real estate agent who has to deal with buckandeddie brings me joy and this fic is exactly why <3 such a good time! for me, that is. maybe not for mariana.

i'll meet you by the river, see how time it flows | fruitsdoesnotknow/@fruitsdontknow | 8.3k | T

Shoulders tense, Bobby sighs. “Alright, there’s no easy way to say this,” Bobby begins, and Buck immediately leans forward, face concerned as his hand shoots up. “No, Buck, I’m not dying or retiring,” Bobby reassures him, and Buck slowly lowers his hand. “We’ve been nominated by the Fire Chief to help support with a request from a documentary crew. All we know so far is they’re looking into how a regular fire station operates on a day-to-day basis, and they’ll be following us for a few weeks.” Bobby claps his hands together. “Questions?” Six hands all at once go up. “Let me rephrase, questions related to your duties as a firefighter?” Five hands go down. “Yes, Ravi?” “Does this mean we should get a station dog?” blanket rec for an author whose work i've been loving this week!! this was one of my favourites and an immediate bookmark. it made me laugh out loud several times and has the most delightful firefam dynamics <3 cannot recommend enough!

i've been starving myself, carving (skin until my bones are showing) | prettyboybuckley/@prettyboybuckley | 12.1k | M

Eddie is fine. He's absolutely, totally fine.  And if sometimes he doesn't eat, why would that be a problem? He's got a kid to feed and not enough money, and there is no way he's going to grovel to his parents so they'll help him. He doesn't need help, not theirs at least.  definitely heed the tags but this fic is brilliantly written and has such wonderful eddie characterisation <3

it comes and goes in waves | tabbytabbytabby/@tabbytabbytabby | 1.6k | T

Buck never had a problem with the dark. Then the tsunami happened, and somewhere along the way, the dark started to be something Buck feared. And with the dark, came the nightmares. the emotional hurt/comfort is so so good here!! angsty and gentle and soft and just <3

kept on swimming | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 12.1k | M

He just needs someone to know that he tried. He needs someone to acknowledge that—that he did everything he could, and—and he tried. He might’ve failed, but he tried. He tried, he tried, he tried, he tried— Eddie swallows and asks, “How many times?” Buck stares. He lived through it once; that’s normal. He lived through it twice; maybe a déjà-vu or a hallucination of some kind or even a premonition. But three times— It has to be a time loop. Surely. mind the tags but holy shit this is so so good. beautifully written, angsty but with a hopeful ending, i absolutely devoured it <3

lay your hands on me | vampirebuckley/@vampirebuckleyy | 2.7k | E

“There, perfectly relaxed, happy? Now will you drop it?” “Nope, I don’t believe you,” Buck says, slapping his hands on his knees and picking himself up off the couch. “C’mon, up,” Buck waves a hand at Eddie, reaching to grab his hand. Eddie lets his hand be tugged, but plants himself further in the couch. “What are you doing, Buck? I thought you wanted to watch this,” Eddie groans, looking up at Buck and the much too pleased look on his face. “I, am going to give you a massage,” Buck says through a grin, yanking Eddie off the couch despite his protests. so so good!! massage leading to sex is one of my favourite pipelines and i love how this depicts buck and eddie!!

new sensations | lamardeuse/@lamardeuse | 4.3k | E

“All I know is you're getting me worked up and you're going to leave me hanging – again,” Eddie growled, nipping at Buck's earlobe and soothing it with a tongue Buck had learned was extremely talented, and okay, he thought, maybe he could – no, no, he couldn't. hot and cute and so perfectly buddie <3 this was a reread and it gets better every time!

your body is my temple, let me lay at your altar | Kwills91/@kwills91 | 4.7k | E

Eddie is no stranger to feeling self-conscious. When he was a teenager, his body had grown at weird rates. Three months of having feet too big for his body had made him clumsy, people passing comments about clown shoes. Six months of his arms and legs being just a touch too long, staring at himself in the mirror feeling like a marionette puppet. That phase where his hair grew out instead of down and his nerdy younger sister had snorted and told him looked like a hobbit–it didn’t help that there had been some crossover between that and the big feet phase. It’s been so long, Eddie had forgotten what it felt like–the shame that comes with looking in the mirror and wishing a different reflection were staring back. He’s happy, is the thing. He’s happy, so he’s not supposed to be feeling like this. loved reading this so very much <3 body worship buddie hits so hard in the best way possible, and this is a perfect example of that!

[writingquestionsanswered]

Not to be a downer, but I actually finished my novel and now I’m confused because I don’t want to publish it. I don’t even particularly want anyone other than maybe my two close friends to even read it. What on Earth did I write 40k words (which I know is not really long enough for a novel, but it’s still far and away the longest thing I’ve ever written) for? I know people say “write for yourself” but like… am I just wasting my time? Help?

(p.s. you can leave this off anon)

(p.p.s your blog is really great 👍)

There's No Such Thing as Wasted Writing

I'm going to tackle this two ways...

#1 - "Write For Yourself" - there's a reason this common phrase has echoed through the Hall of Writers since time immemorial. It's because it's true! Writing doesn't have to be anything more than a pastime. It doesn't have to be anything more than something you do for your own benefit and enjoyment.

I have an in-joke with family members about how any time one of us does something the least bit crafty, DIY, skilled, whatever, a particular family member will always say, "You did a great job! You should do it for a living!" Like, someone can't even crochet a Kawaii mushroom without being pressured to turn it into an Etsy dynasty, or paint a cabinet without being pressured to become the next Property Brothers. And that's such a BANANAS capitalistic mindset, isn't it? This idea that nothing can be done purely for our own enjoyment. That you can't just write a novel because you want to... you can only write it if you plan to share it or publish it? It's just so silly.

And, the thing is, we don't even apply that mentality to a lot of other things people do purely for enjoyment. No one is streaming all of Bridgerton in two nights and saying, "I enjoyed every second of that, but why did I do that? Such a waste of time!" No one spends an hour strumming their guitar under the stars on a beach, and then says, "That was so relaxing and fun, but I didn't charge for that performance and I didn't record it to sell it, so that was obviously a waste of time."

You know what I mean?

#2 - And Anyway, Practice Makes Perfect - And if you keep writing--even if you continue not to share or publish--you'll get better and better with each story you write. Which, maybe all that means is you get to appreciate your own improvement, but also, should you ever change your mind and decide to write something to share or publish, you've now spent time honing your skills. Even if those other stories never see the light of day, they're still an important foundation of the writer you become. Do you know how many unpublished novellas, novels, and short stories I have? Too many to count. Hundreds of fan-fiction and original fiction short stories I've only shared with one or two other people, if anyone. A dozen or so novels and novellas that have only been read by a few people, and some haven't been read by anyone else or have only been read by my CPs. I would never consider those stories and novels and novellas to be a waste of time, because I know every single one made me a better writer. My published work is better because I wrote those other things.

So, I hope that makes you feel better. At the very least you hopefully enjoyed writing your novel--or at least got something out of it--and you definitely honed your writing skills, which matters! ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[lady-raziel]

long reaction to the update

ok. so they put out an update video! since i've been commentating for the last three days i might as well subject you all to more of my thoughts today.

main takeaway: this was a good apology video. i mean it. short and to the point, no overproduction, heartfelt and honest (and not a ukelele to be seen. thank god.) they took ownership of the situation, apologized, and restated how much they value their relationship with the fandom.

their solution is to make the watcher tv platform into kind of an iteration of patreon where content is available for early access before it is released onto youtube later. this is clearly a better option than paywalling everything for everyone. i'm not sure what the relative breakdown of costs turns out to be when you compare how much they were making on patreon after the platform took their cut VS how much it costs in overhead to run and maintain their own platform (how much it costs annually to contract via Vimeo, essentially). but i'm sure that's part of the calculation.

all things considered, that does seem like the best option out of all the alternatives. it allows them to not completely abandon any of the pans they have simmering over the fire for the time being. i don't think i ever thought they were going to just say "oops, forget about the streaming thing! let's pretend that never happened!" because at this point they've invested quite a lot of time and money into it, and i don't disagree that keeping it in some iteration may help them make up some of the funds they're lacking.

i would say, it's fine to keep the streamer. this is one of the ok outcomes, all things considered-- but if they're going to do it, they've GOT to do it smart from this point forward. listen to both the fans and the consultants intimately. both are going to have valid points, and both are going to be right. listening to too much of either side will sink this thing because each has motives and expertise that the other doesn't. if the fans say $6 is too much, listen to them-- but have conversations with business consultants about how much you realistically need to charge to make things work.

also, i'd use this whole situation as a learning experience. watcher is a young company, and it's literally inevitable that mistakes will happen. what's different is that the watcher crew haven't really been in a position before where they've been on the receiving end of the internet-angry-justice-hammer to this extent. it's one thing to watch it happen to others, but it's a position of extreme privilege (and a bit of hubris) to think "but that won't happen to me, because i'm built different." naw, man-- two things in life are inevitable: death and fuckups. the callout posts get us all in the end.

what's really important is that they use this as a wakeup call that even the most loyal fandoms will only follow you so far to the cliff's edge, and you don't want to push that. you have to strike a balance between the passion projects that you think are worthy and the stuff that maybe doesn't excite you as much anymore but the people want to see. a little fanservice keeps the lights on, as unfair as that might seem. i'm gonna make 50 markiplier choccy milk memes just so i can make one niche political joke once and a while for 6 likes. it is what it is.

i'd also use this as a chance to take a very careful look at company structure and finances. it's not fun to do and nobody likes it. trust me-- this is hard whether you're a single adult trying to pay the bills or the freaking US government (speaking from experience on both-- i have to read the president's budget for work frequently). but you all have to ask hard questions about the ratio of creative staff you take on VS staff for administrative and other business roles, as well as the costs and benefits of everything you spend money on. how many staff members are essential to location shoots? can this video be shot with 2 cameras instead of 3 and thus you don't need another cameraperson? you might even have to come to the decision that instead of pitching a new show it makes more sense to use those funds to hire your essential non-creative roles or contract firms or freelancers.

paying staff a fair wage with benefits speaks highly of what watcher wants their values to be. it's hard to find such a position in a creative role and still actually get to work on things you care about. but it would be much worse if watcher didn't make realistic decisions about finances and it lead to the death of the company and everyone losing their jobs. the whole watcher company can work, in my opinion, but not without some sacrifices. they're going to have to run it more like a business and less like a youtube-channel-turned-business in the future if they want to survive.

last thing i'll add is that while i do think this was a good apology video, i still think they hurt themselves by not putting out some sort of statement on Friday or Saturday just to say that they were formulating a response. As i've said in other posts, it's ok and in fact beneficial to not make a kneejerk reaction, but it's also very important to communicate that you SEE what's happening. you SEE what people are saying and THAT'S why you need more time to respond. saying nothing and leaving the angry public to wonder if you dropped your phone off the Hoover Dam or just don't care? that's a fumble. it's a common mistake companies make in a crisis, but that doesn't mean it doesn't erode trust fast.

this could have been handled better in many ways. we see that, and i'm glad watcher says they see that too. crucial going forward is taking all this and patching the errors that caused all this to fall apart and learning from the experience.

tbh at this point what i'm most sad about is that the watcher crew have probably been too stressed out and upset to appreciate some of the absolute bangers people have been laying down to clown on them. i think if it wasn't about them they might be touched by the collective attitude and creative spirit. /j

[olisephart]

Short ezkayn comic loosely inspired by the song "Figure you out" by VOÍLA. God they live rent free in my brain.

Details on the backstory and the comic under the cut <3

Starting pre-relationship, heartsteel is established. Ezreal and Kayn have been heavily flirting (maybe even friends w benefits) for months already, but always danced around actually saying anything. Both are too prideful to make the first step, because it's one thing to flirt or (want to) hook up and a whole other thing to admit you have actual romantic feelings for your friend/band member/prank partner.

After an Incident (whatever it was) that made Ezreal uncomfortably aware that he's In Love, he tries to distance himself from their usual flirtatious banter and starts publicly dating/fooling around with another guy; to distract himself from Kayn, to prove to himself he doesn't need Kayn, and though he wouldn't admit it, to make Kayn jealous.

Predictably, Kayn does get jealous but holds his tongue for a surprisingly long time, since voicing his jealousy risks showing his feelings go deeper than physical. Still, he can only take so many obviously staged pictures of Ezreal Definitely being Super Happy and Not At All Faking it with another guy before he confronts him. He swallows his pride and corners Ez, which is where the comic starts.

I didn't feel like writing dialogue, so here's the gist of what I was envisioning. Kayn confronts Ezreal, telling him to drop the sharade with the other guy. It's Obvious he's not genuine with it, the guy bought him (insert thing that Kayn Knows Ez doesn't like as much as another thing; ice cream flavour, flowers, what have you) which Ez would usually scoff at. Because it's Kayn, he can't help but tease with smth like "Just admit you like me and spare us this performance".

Ezreal, defensive, starts denying everything Kayn said, insisting he's dating the guy for real and bc he likes him, and Kayn's ego is just too big etc etc. Unfortunately for him tho, he's been missing Kayn a whole lot, so having grabbed Kayn's wrist, he can't help himself but caress it with his thumb. He stops himself the moment the realized, but Kayn noticed as well and takes that as the sign he needs that Ez is full of shit.

He pins Ezreal's hand above his head and starts teasing him in earnest. Listing all the little tics he noticed about Ezreal, embarrassing things he likes that no one outside of Heartsteel (or maybe even just Kayn, since he's paying extra close attention to Ezreal) ever gets to see, how easy it is to get him hot and bothered and how cute he is when he's flustered like this. He keeps going until Ezreal, overwhelmed with this barrage of confusing emotions (Kayn is paying attention to him, he remembers what he likes and dislikes, he just confirmed all his teasing are On Purpose to fluster him-), decides to bring it back to familiar ground. He grabs his jacket, pulls him close and tells him to shut up.

If they have hooked up before, Kayn knows what comes after he says "make me" - the kiss is expected but simultaneously way more emotionally charged than ever before, because they have essentially both admitted their feelings. Post comic, they make out/hook up and then confirm it in actual words. They like each other, theyre going to be exclusive (bc I love them being possesive over each other) 

If they haven't hooked up before: Ezreal would usually find a comical way to shut Kayn up once he says "make me" - be that smothering him with a nearby couch pillow, pulling the leash on his stage outfit, etc. Kayn feels the electricity between them but this hasn't happened before. He leans in and says "make me", but he leaves the ball in Ez's court. Once Ez grabs the back of his head to pull him closer, Kayn shifts his other hand to hold onto his waist in turn.

[mrsrookhunt]

Hello! I saw your request was open and I wasn’t sure what to really think of

So maybe a general or simple nsfw hc of Yandere Chuuya?

My first ask! Of course! ❤ I added more characters for the sake of making a well-rounded post, but I gave chuuya a bonus scenario :) Enjoy!

Yan!Bsd Men in Bed

NSFW!!

(Short post, feel free to request more characters)

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara, H.P. Lovecraft, Mushitaro Oguri, Jouno Saigiku

Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings: punishment, manipulation, yandere, kinks mention, violence mentioned/implied

Chuuya is nice in bed, mostly.

He's powerful, and not afraid to be the dominant one, but he is still very respectful of your boundaries. He feels very guilty for the way he's treated you, so protectively, in his eyes. But you've grown tired of it, and he knows; so, as not to anger you further, he tries to make you as in control as possible.

Chuuya will do whatever you'd like, so long as he still gets to be the one in charge. He'll indulge your kinks or let you explore with him, permitting it doesn't cross his own boundaries (but considering the fact that you're willing to be intimate with him at all, he isn't too picky).

Definitely into degradation and BDSM, but he's fine if you're uncomfortable with that. Only occasionally will he ask you to do something that steps outside of your comfort zone, and it's usually for special occasions, like his birthday or holidays. I feel like mirror sex would be a special anniversary treat with him.

He's only rough with you if you ask or more like plead, or if you need punishment .

Chuuya doesn't take sexual punishment (or any punishment) lightly, but if you've pushed him far enough.... He may torture you in very unexpected ways.

You think, for a moment, that you're in trouble. You fucked up, you fucked up so bad. Chuuya slammed the front door behind you, with a blatant fury that made you jump.

"Please, Chuuie, I'm sorry-- don't- don't do anything rash now-"

"Don't tell me what the FUCK to do in my own home."

He cornered you into the kitchen, snatching your arm and bending you over the center counter.

"Tell me how sorry you are.' His voice was soft, quiet. Testing.

"I'm sorry--I'm- really s-sorry" You choked out from between sobs. You had never seen it coming, the violence, the anger, the sheer reaction, to your misdeed.

The cold granite countertops cut into your stomach with the chill and pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached for his back pocket, the one with his knife.

You gasped when a small, shockingly fast-paced vibrator was placed on your thigh. Out of all the things you thought he could and would do to you, this was not one.

He put his hand on your other thigh, making you involuntarily moan.

"I'm going to show you the true meaning of punishment tonight."

H.P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft essentially has no idea what he's doing in bed; he understands the concept in theory, but he really still feels lost. His sense of clinginess and protectiveness doesnt carry over into the bedroom, and is lost on everyone but you, so you're the only one who can guide him in this matter.

He gives you the most doe-eyed look if you ask if he ever considered sexual punishments. He doesn't really understand why sex is used for pleasure or pain; he finds procreation to be the only benefit to him.

Overall, getting him into bed with you is the biggest challenge, but once you've got him there, you can change his life; and you certainly will.

He's not a man to make much noise or fuss, but he's absolutely blissed out, and wonders how he has not understood this aspect of life before.

By the time you're done, he's more attached to you than ever, curling you into his arms and refusing to let go. You've shown him just one more reason to love you as much as he does, and keep you from showing anyone else the same kindness.

Mushitaro Oguri

Mushitaro finds sex in general an indecent act for most anything. That isn't to say he doesn't have urges like everyone else, but for the sake of his meticulous regimen, he will squish them down until he absolutely cannot control himself anymore.

You're both the source of his frustrations and the perfect release. Mushitaro is completely in control in bed, just like he is in every aspect of your life together.

Mushitaro can be kinkier than most men; casual choking, roleplay, and some hardcore BDSM can be in the cards for you depending on how far he's gone to deny himself previously.

That being said, your needs also often don't get met. You don't like to ignore yourself the way he does, but he forces you to. You're not allowed any toys, he has SafeSearch on for google, and you are routinely scolded on the indecency of self-pleasure, regardless of whether he's caught you or not.

Mushitaro's demanding and high maitenence personality makes him one of the worst in the sexual part of your relationship.

He rarely considers sexual punishment, unless the circumstances are juussst right. I.e, if you've been caught touching yourself in any way, shape or form, and Mushitaro's already been hot around the collar, he may be rougher and more cruel in bed than normal just to teach you a lesson.

Jouno Saigiku

Joun-bug's high sex drive makes him a worthwhile adversary in the bedroom. Much like Chuuya, he wants to be in control; but more than wanting to, he will be in control.

He'll push you to the brink of absolute pleasure and then throw you down and tell you how worthless you are until you beg and plead and go through whatever torture he has planned to get him to finish you off.

Jouno is always going to be... well, Jouno. He'll sadistically torture you in every way he can possibly exploit in bed for his own pleasure, and he doesn't give a damn whether you're comfortable with it or not. Remember, his composure and sweet smile is a farce he hides behind; and he'll show you his true self when he feels it's appropriate and necessary.

Maybe he'll be gentle with you, if you've been put through enough and he feels you deserve it. He does love you, but his desires take priority. If you've gone through whatever he had planned for his own pleasure, he may indulge in yours.

Sexual punishment is the worst with him; he takes absolutely no mercy on you, and punishes you often, for the smallest of things.

[vidavalor]

Way too long venty anon from a couple days ago: two more points that occurred to me (sorry! 😂)

I feel like 'you're so irrelevant that we can kick you out and then bastardise your material to create something better suited to our purposes' is a much better message to send than 'you're so important that even if we get rid of you we need to keep your scripts or else throw in the towel entirely'?

One of the major concerns I've seen floating around is that it'll be un-queered... but honestly, why? And also, how even?

(P.S. I feel like I should add that justice is of course the most important thing and that above all, his victims deserved better, but I've - fortunately - yet to see anyone dispute that him facing consequences for his actions is good, compared to so so many people bitching, beyond any reasonable sadness or initial shock, about how this is going to be a half-arsed, sloppy, way-too-short rush job that'll ruin everything and if amazon wasn't going to provide all 6 episodes they may as well have just cancelled, which, imo, is both untrue and lacks situational awareness - not to mention, is infuriating - so that's the part I chose to address, as we do seem to have at least reached the bare minimum of a n*il needs/needed to go consensus)

Hi, welcome back! 💕 Vent away. *pours your drink of choice* I saw your first message & will get to that next. I'm doing things backwards like Good Omens this week, apparently. Also, if you aren't someone I'm already talking with via DM & you feel comfortable doing so, you're welcome to message me. I feel like we'd get along. 😂 Everyone but bots, trolls & NG is always welcome to DM or Ask-- whatever people feel most comfortable with.

On Point # 1 (& the PS)-- Yes, it is a better message to send, absolutely. I'm hoping that people are getting to the places you've mentioned in the P.S. I took a look a few days ago (against my own advice to other people lol) and booked it out of there pretty quickly. I saw people making petitions demanding more episodes, embarrassing the people from the show who fought to get this movie, when they should be thanking them and Amazon. What really horrified me, though, is support for petitions demanding the rapist's unfinished scripts (if they even exist). Just... no. No. I've also seen a lot of posts that just aren't mentioning his survivors at all or that it's good that he's gone and that are blaming Amazon for the movie when it's the rapist who is the problem here, not the (shit behemoth) company who was convinced to give the story an ending. I've also seen many, many people who have been great and lovely but just the brief glimpse I dared out of hope to take the other day did not really boost my spirits. On a lighter note...

2-- There are people saying it'd be "unqueered"? *tries very hard not to spit coffee everywhere laughing* *is unsuccessful and there's now some on the desk, luckily not my computer* *brb mess to clean up*

Ok, I've returned. *exhales, still laughing, but now with less hot caffeine everywhere* WHAT THE FUCK?!

Imagine believing a) that's even fucking possible and b) that anyone would think there'd be any fiscal or any other kind of benefit to trying? What... even is... "unqueered"? Do they realize that this would be like trying to take space out of Star Trek? Like taking a ticking clock out of 24? Like saying The Doctor doesn't need time travel or the Tardis? Queer is the foundation upon which this story is built. It's a reason for its entire existence. There is simply no way for this show to not be queer. They never would even try such a thing because the only reason why there's a movie and not a cancelation is because the people involved in this show were able to convince Amazon that it was financially beneficial to Amazon to make it and that argument would have been built around the existence of Good Omens' legion of a very queer and queer-friendly fanbase.

Also, even if they were to do something as completely idiotic from a business standpoint as to try to somehow unqueer the queerest show in existence, have these people suggesting they might ever heard of these guys called David Tennant, Michael Sheen and Jon Hamm? 😂

I'm presuming these "unqueered" people are the same people who think it just became queer when they saw Crowley and Aziraphale kiss, which... *winces really hard*... I'm not going to dignify that. I am Gabriel and Beez below at such a notion.

These people with the "unqueered"... I'd imagine that their expectation is now that Amazon-- the people who hired the four, other writers who wrote the majority of the queerness that is S2, mind-- is going to hire someone to, what? Retcon the kiss and end the series with Crowley and Aziraphale praying hard at mass? That they'll be all: Just kidding, Good Omens fans! This blasphemous and queer tv show based off the novel written by Terry Pratchett is now being written and produced by these fine folks we hired from that Christian Hallmark channel! We know this will definitely make you all want to tune in and give us your money!

I can see it now, Lovely Venting Anon... all of Good Omens is a fantasy Wensleydale made up about the world within his snow globe. When his never-seen Peanuts parents show up and find out that fantasy involved queers, they send him to boarding school (totally going to unqueer him, that) and that's most of the movie. God returns and is seen for the first time but She's revealed to be the head of the boarding school and is now played by Candace Cameron Bure.

The big finale is a scene wherein Crowley tells Aziraphale that he is exclusively male and straight and Aziraphale says that's good and wishes him luck with a non-erotic handshake, informing him of his own intent to be straight and exclusively male forever himself, especially now that he's off to do his new assignment of writing speeches for Nigel Farage, all happily at the behest of the show's big hero... The Metatron. They agree that food and sex and secular music and books are sin and pray together (actual praying, you hopeful gutterbrains, not Hozier praying) over the closing credits.

This gives way to a secret, bonus scene for the hardcore fans-- the only appearance in the film of characters played by Nina Sosanya and Maggie Service. It's a flashforward to the future in which they are both now living in Arkansas and married to conservative Christian men. We see them discussing their quest to overtake their local school boards and shut down all the libraries. Nina, in particular, is really excited to be the founding member of Blacks for Trump in her area. It ends with Maggie gathering her anti-trans signs and heading out with a smile to distribute them around town.

I mean, it's not quite what I've been theorizing the plot of the movie is but ya just never know...

People need to *relax* about the movie being written by other writers. Four, other writers wrote the majority of Season Two and it was great! I know people wanted a whole season-- so did I-- but I'm more than happy with a movie that I honestly didn't really expect was going to wind up happening, though I was more hopeful than I might have been for another show. The movie is the length of the last two episodes of S2 and we've had all the run up to it already with S2. They'll dive right in. It's a bonus finale to what we've already seen. It's going to be very queer and very Pratchett and very good. Just breathe. 😂

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Meghan Markle is a Bully and the Proof is in the Office by u/sdowney64

Meghan Markle is a Bully and the Proof is in the Office This started as a comment on another Reddit post about Meghan Markle’s charity “work” in Canada as she popped in on yet another women’s charity that was a clapback to the Royals and specifically works to combat woman harmed by “colonialism.” 🙄 The post discussed how those organizations ruin themselves by aligning with a bully. I made a long comment but several people noted I should make it a separate post, so I am doing that here. Unfortunately I can’t link to the original subreddit post. I've said this before but I really think it needs to be said again. I am a retired auditor. I worked for an Inspector General & before that a DoD contract auditor for a total of 14 years. One thing I learned working both those jobs is when you have significant staff losses in short amounts of time, you have a toxic bully boss at the helm, 100% of the time. I also learned it in my own office, and it's why I left DoD and took a lateral transfer to the IG at a different agency. Let me repeat that: 100% of the time.In all my years of auditing, when there was a significant staff loss of 10 or more staff in less than two years, there was never, ever, ever any other reason except a horrible toxic bully boss running the show. And when an organization ignores that bully boss and doesn't remove them, they will continue to get wave after wave of staff loss. Resignations & impulsive firings, but mainly resignations.And here is the other thing I learned, which makes that statistic so glaring. Employees will rarely leave a job they're happy with, even if someone offers them more money, better benefits, better commute, or even better quality of work/life balance. It's true. The majority of employees, if they are happy in their job, will pass up better options in a new job. But when an employee is miserable and being tortured in their job, they will leave that job for less pay, worse benefits, longer commute, and things that you would think they would never give up stable employment for.Because the bottom line is, the boss makes or breaks the environment. And that is why anyone who thinks there is any other reason that Meghan & Harry can't keep staff, they are absolutely lying to themselves. I've seen it too many times to count. And it stood the test -literal testing, evidence-based testing, interviewing employees who are living through it, interviewing people who left and were MORE THAN HAPPY to say in their exit interview WHY they were leaving and where they were going and how they'd accepted less just to get the hell out of there. That is the type of boss Meghan Markle is.And while I fault Harry for a lot of things these days, he was not the OG Bully. Before Meghan, he made coffee for his staff. She put a stop to that immediately. So he was happy to co-bully, but without Meghan, there would have been no bullying and no systemic toxicity. Harry is emotional and could be petulant and rash, but overall was decent and acceptable to work for and with. Once Meghan shows up, the whole dynamic changed. Anyone who pretends otherwise and thinks she's a role model and a good person is lying to themselves.The proof of who Meghan Markle is and how awful she is as a person is sitting front and center for all the world to see in her rapid and overwhelming staff losses. It was happening at the palace, and then the proof is at Archewell, that pattern continued! Same EXACT pattern. Talking to you, Tyler Perry, and every liberal organization I would have supported until you refused to look at facts and aligned with the monster that is Meghan Markle. post link: https://ift.tt/Ov6YbJn author: sdowney64 submitted: November 22, 2023 at 02:09PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[terarria-sunflower]

very un-fire emblem, but since ao3 is down here's some L death note headcanons I was debating posting, hopefully they will benefit the masses in this time of hardship

L and how he thinks about romance:

(tw for slight sexual references and short icky behavior from an unnamed non-canon character but no non con, could be dub con)

- he had a couple puppy loves when he was a kid that he fell way too deep into and had break his heart. he just had trouble understanding the natural flow of relationships, and his standing with others who expected him to keep up with them, so he kept getting left behind

- he's obviously bisexual

- and i think he had a brief thing with another boy when he was an early teen and living at the orphanage

- probably the kind of thing where he felt like he had found his soul mate, and they spent lots of time together trying to make up for how starved for love their lives had been at Whammy's, and then eventually the other boy started to become disgusted with the system, and with L because he was so integral to it the older he got, and neither of them understood any of that, and the other boy broke up with him very unkindly and vanished all in the span of about a week

- L is a little wiser to what was going on behind the scenes now, but even if he had the full explanation, the pain was just so acute, and echoed his recurring experience with abandonment so that thinking about it just solidifies a belief that he's unlovable

- i think when he got into his later teens at the orphanage and started to have a bit of freedom to wander around unsupervised, he also had a brief relationship with an American girl who was on vacation in the area

- and by brief i mean the literal one week that she was in Britain

- she was a bit older than him, almost enough to be icky and certainly old enough to know better than to play with an obviously vulnerable young boy

- she was bored and on vacation so she decided to use him, and again he was totally smitten, poor thing was still just so desperate for companionship that he didn't question a good thing

- he is a genius, but his emotional intelligence just developed slowly cause of trauma:/

- she manipulated him into being physical with her the day before she went home in an alley near the orphanage. they didn't have penetrative sex but they got pretty well acquainted

- she left him immediately after and didn't come back to say goodbye.

- that experience was where his trust allowance ran out, and a few years later after he and Watari began moving around the world, the time and the physical separation from where he grew up helped him understand not to blame himself

- it's actually really lucky that he became a career law enforcer, because it gave him the needed exposure to how much other people straight up suck, and saved him from a lifetime of self-hatred

- his theme is really being self sustainable

- he doesn't have any qualms about his personal worth

- but he also doesn't think he's good enough for other people, so he's learned to live totally without them

- Watari is the exception, because L knows that their relationship is based on Watari needing him for his talent, and he can know quantifiably that he's good enough for that

- i think romance is something he craves even if the lack of it doesn't torture him, but he is truly and literally waiting for the stars to align in the person he chooses; it's something he will never take a risk on again (cough why I'm anti-Lawlight although no disrespect to the ship or it's shippers at all it's just not for me!)

- attraction is easy! he just doesn't trust it a bit.

- his end-game would have to be someone who's known him and Watari for quite a while, who Watari likes, and who has stayed around long enough that their only possible motivation for wanting him can be- well, wanting him

- but once he's found the right one, and he's safe with them, I think he'd be eager to participate in surprisingly traditional romantic gestures, and a good communicator.

- he's awkward as we know, but when comfortable with the person he loves, i think that awkwardness turns into endearing, just non-current mannerisms. like, he's a big kiss his partner's hand kinda guy, which isn't that weird or outdated really but he does it with the intent and reverence with which a knight kisses the hand of a court lady, and he does it because he's gathered his most complete pictures of romance from books and from old movies that i'm sure Watari has made him watch

- 10/10, perfect baby angel of a man, the geneva war crimes are a part of him and I'VE decided they're funny

[fuckingfinwions]

hallo your au has inspired me to write a short fic of my own c: it's sort of fluff of geode au fingon/sold as pet maedhros. can i have your permission to post this on ao3 at some point?

-

"You want to what?" Fingolfin stared at his eldest as if he grew a second head, momentarily untangling his fingers from Maedhros' curls.

"I– I said I want to marry Maedhros," Fingon repeated.

"That's... Fingon are you– Why??"

A good question. Fingon didn't really know why. He barely understood his growing feelings for Maedhros let alone considered marrying him. He always thought he'd marry someone from a more respectable family not the biggest whore in all of Arda, but the sight of his father's hands all over the elf who showed him so much trust and love in the past few weeks urged a sense of chivalry in Fingon that he thought he was no longer capable of.

"Why does anyone marry anyone? For love, of course."

"Not true, you could always marry someone for politics or even tax benefits. Marrying this harlot will only break your heart."

"Not as much you're breaking mine right now. Maitimo loves me father, if he didn't I think I'd have lived my days not thinking much of him either. But I find that I have become infatuated with him as of late and would like get to know him more outside the bonds of servitude."

Fingolfin studied him as Fingon steeled his gaze, Maedhros the only thing between them shaking like a leaf. He made little effort to stop the king's molestation but it was clear from Maitimo's big wet eyes he still wanted Fingon's approval first. It took all of Fingon not to run to him and embrace him and tell him everything would be okay.

"So be it."

Fingon sighed out air he didn't realize he was holding.

Fingolfin for his part was not entirely convinced of his son's declaration. Sure he has noticed Maedhros had been acting a little strange as of late and he did see the appeal in it but Fingon's attention never stayed in one place too long and he'd probably grow bored of Maedhros' shtick eventually. Fingolfin had other pretty Feanorians to fuck in the meantime.

Besides this might be an opportunity for his reckless son to learn a thing or two about responsibility.

"Try not to damage him Findekano." His father stood and brushed away the crease in his robes just as easily as he shoved Maitimo away. "If he is to be your betrothed I expect him to act like one. You'll feed him, wash him, and teach him all the ways of court. And since you're engaged people need to see that you're actually taking the whole thing seriously, so no fucking anyone else for at least a year. Am I clear?"

"Of course! I'll be the most well-behaved husband in all of Arda!" Fingon promised as Fingolfin left the two newly betrothed alone.

This is amazing! And yes, you can definitely post it on ao3, you wrote it! I'd appreciate it if you link either this blog or my ao3 (also called fuckingfinwions) as inspiring it, and also then I can stop by to leave a comment.

Fingon is so sweet, and yay for sticking up for Maedhros! Not actually consulting Maedhros as an equal partner, but maybe they'll get there in time. And Fingon obviously cares about what makes Maedhros happy, not just jealousy of other people using Maedhros.

Fingolfin doesn't believe that the wedding will actually take place, but I have faith in them! In other timelines Fingon is known for his faithfulness, and he's not going to drop Maedhros once he's made up his mind to keep him. And Maedhros is extremely devoted to Fingon, he's definitely going to be trying to make this engagement work. Maedhros isn't stupid either; he doesn't know how a prince is supposed to behave but he can learn, and if that's what his master fiance wants from him, he'll dedicate just as much energy as he does to any of Fingon's other orders.

(Also, was Fingolfin literally about to get a blowjob from Maedhros when Fingon "proposed"? Am I reading the "crease in his robes" and "untangling his fingers from Maedhros' curls" right? Because that sure is some timing on Fingon's part!)

[sirfrogsworth]

Hey I saw your post on wheelchair accessibility - was wondering as someone who does not use a wheelchair if there is anything we can do? Like checking the buttons at doctors offices and reporting that to (??? Somewhere??) If they don't work?

It's one of those "If you see something, say something" situations.

For instance, if you see someone parking in a wheelchair spot and they don't have a placard, just say, "I think you forgot to put up your disabled placard. You don't want to get a fine."

This is better than straight up accusing someone of not being disabled because sometimes it is not apparent they are disabled and people do forget to hang the placard on the mirror on occasion.

Now, if they say they are not disabled and give you an excuse like, "I'm just going to be a few minutes." this is where you have to decide what kind of confrontation you are comfortable with.

If you don't feel safe, wait until they leave, take some pics and feel free to alert the non-emergency line. That usually doesn't amount to much, but in some areas, they might send someone out to fine them or tow them.

If you feel safe enough, you could ask them to please move their car if they are not disabled. You might even start taking video at this point to reduce the chance of escalation.

You could give them a sympathetic anecdote. Doesn't have to be true. "My uncle is in a wheelchair and he has such a hard time when the parking spaces are all used up. Would you please reconsider moving your car?" I do not recommend a hostile approach, though some feel comfortable with it.

You could also start taking pictures of their car and license plates and if they ask what you are doing you can tell them you are going to send them to the authorities. "Your car will be towed if they get here before you leave. So maybe it is best to just move it now."

I do like the idea of testing door buttons and then just letting someone know when they are not functioning. Usually there is a receptionist or security person nearby. Just keep an eye out for accessibility features in public and if you see something in disrepair, alerting someone could save a future disabled person a great deal of trouble.

And general awareness is great too. If you see someone blocking something or parking in the wrong spot, take a picture and post it. Tell your followers "Saw this. Very not cool." Visuals can help make this real for people and get them to actually think about the problem.

One other thing you can do is watch out for shopping carts blocking accessible spaces. I often see people leaving carts in disabled parking spots or blocking entrances. If you see that, just take the cart back to where it is supposed to be.

And like I mentioned before, please don't ever assume someone is not disabled. Disabled people sometimes get confronted for being fakers out in public. Just because someone uses a wheelchair does not mean they cannot stand or walk. It usually means that standing/walking is very painful and they can only manage it for short distances. I've seen countless pictures on social media of someone in a wheelchair standing up in a grocery aisle to grab something from the top shelf. People laugh and call them frauds. But people have no idea why they need that wheelchair so don't make assumptions.

And some disabled people have invisible disabilities. I personally cannot walk long distances without terrible lower back pain. People like me can benefit greatly from parking closer and cutting down the total distance walked. I don't feel I need disabled parking yet, I can usually manage the pain. But that could change someday and it would be nice if people didn't accuse me and others of fraud without proper evidence.

OH! One more thing. Do not give disabled people help unless they explicitly ask for it or are in danger of hurting themselves. Like if you see someone losing their balance or something. I know people think they are being kind, but this can be maddening. Sometimes people need to feel independent and capable when they have physical limitations. Disabled people will go to great lengths to find ways to help themselves in all sorts of situations. They may have grabby thingies to reach things on high shelves. Visually impaired folks may have apps on their phone that help them know which groceries are near them. Yes, it might be easier for them if you gave them a hand, but that is up to them to ask for that help if they want it.

So just be mindful of those things and do your best to help out when appropriate.

Thank you so much for wanting to help.

[insipid-drivel]

SSI & SSDI: What are they, who qualifies, and how to apply?

Prefacing this with "For USAmericans only" because our system is a special kind of fucked up. I'm sorry to say that this may not apply to people that are undocumented, either. The feds suck that way and I really wish life was easier for all of us. This is also gonna be a very long post.

I see a lot of USAmerican tumblr users in dire straights trying to scrape by with art auctions, selling homemade stuff, or straight-up begging (no shame intended; poverty fucking sucks and our system is broken), that really seem to qualify for the same benefits that I have, but underutilize or otherwise don't know they can apply. This post is my attempt to explain the differences between our federal benefits programs, who can qualify, and what you need to do to apply in the gentlest, most hand-holding way I can for those of you feeling daunted or scared.

First off:

1: What's the difference between SSI and SSDI? SSI is short for "Social Security Income", and SSDI is just the same thing but with "Disability" thrown in. SSI pays into benefits for elder care and retired seniors, but what a lot of USAmericans don't realize is that you can apply for SSI at any time if you are disabled and have never had a job because of it. SSI isn't the same as a 401k or a retirement plan through your bank/finance manager. SSI is the federal system through which people who, either through age or disability, cannot work receive federal compensation through tax dollars. I got approved when I was 30 due to the severity of my disabilities when the average American doesn't usually have to worry about SSI until they're nearing retirement age. SSI is also the system that people who have never been able to work due to being disabled can apply for life-long benefits through.

SSDI is specifically for the benefit of people who have worked before, but have become too disabled to keep working for whatever reason. I'm personally, actually, on SSI because I've never been able to work due to my disabilities and have been living with them since very early childhood. I had odd jobs at stables working with horses in my teens, but no paystubs to prove it since it was all in cash. If you've never worked a formal job and are too disabled to work now, you want SSI. If you've been able to work before and can prove it through pay stubs/taxes/employment contracts but are now too disabled to, you want SSDI.

2: How do I know if I qualify? By getting tired of struggling to work because of your disability and giving the process a real look. Are you making less money than if you were working a barely minimum-wage part-time job and still struggling with Being Okay? Then you're probably, to some degree, legally disabled and entitled to help. The threshold to apply for assistance is surprisingly low considering how much I've seen barely-hanging-in-there tumblr users suffering from their respective chronic issues toughing it out with nothing but duct tape, ibuprofen, and etsy shops, and SS(D)I programs really take a lot of care to pay attention to your psychological welfare when you have to work as well as your physical welfare when defining what "disabled" really means.

You can even call the SSA help line, reach an agent, describe your situation, and ask if it sounds like you should pursue an application and how to start at absolutely no cost and with no commitment; these are programs you have a legal right to access and apply for, and calling is completely free - there are no consultation fees, ever. A lot of Social Security agents WANT to help people get on benefits when they need them, but it's actually harder to get approved if you try to do the entire process digitally vs. keeping in contact over the phone with a real human.

While you can apply and get approved with 0 contact necessary up until a certain point with applying for federal benefits, you are much more likely to get denied and have to appeal multiple times, miss documents that you didn't notice you needed to have ready, or not hear about other benefit programs or assistance that you can simultaneously be applying for. Even if you're scared of phones, you want a good agent to advocate for you and advise you when it comes to SSI/SSDI.

For the record, it's NORMAL to be denied at least once, if not several times when you apply, and does not mean that you aren't disabled, or aren't "disabled enough". This is a tactic intentionally used by the SSA to filter out those "truly" in need from those that aren't by using the logic "truly desperate people won't quit applying while people with options will". It's bullshit, classist, ableist, and takes advantage of people with anxiety and social phobias, but that's the way it's been built to be, so you MUST be persistent and keep appealing if you get denied. There are no limits to how many times you can appeal your case when it comes to SS(D)I. Some people can be stuck with being denied and appealing for years, which is why I strongly advise keeping the names and contact information of SSA agents and resources you've been in contact with for help. Once you get people to see you as a person rather than an applicant, you'll start getting a lot more good advice and tips for how to get approved faster and even how to maximize your monthly benefit rates.

If you're struggling to hold down your life in a stable way because of having one or more disabilities that interfere with a regular, "average" person's expected work day (9-5, usually commuting at least a little by car, usually working with other people/customers, spending at least some prolonged times on your feet or sitting at a desk/computer), you may already qualify for more benefits than you're aware of. There are absolutely no legal ramifications for applying for SSI or SSDI and getting turned down, or applying multiple times. It's not a "three strikes and you're out" kind of deal. You will not be arrested or fined for applying or inquiring about what you're entitled to from our federal government. Go to the official Social Security Administration website and poke around! However, my protip is to first read what benefits are available, and then CALL THEIR HELP LINE DIRECTLY to talk to an actual human being. The person who answers the phone can listen to you describe your circumstances precisely and guide you through applying, as well as inform you of any programs you may not know about that you can apply for simultaneously.

My SSA rep was a champion that got me through the process while also dropping hints about how to write and describe my situation in the forms I had to fill out. Because I live with my family, I don't have to pay rent, but my representative loudly asked, "YOU PAY RENT, RIGHT?" as a heavy-handed way of telling me, "I can get you more in your paycheck if you at least say you're paying rent," which got me an additional $300 added to my monthly checks now. I actually do pay that $300 in rent now, because it makes me feel better and helps my family with other expenses, including a brand-new not-even-on-the-market-yet power chair that my mom bought for me recently so I don't have to limp along with a cane anymore.

3: How do I apply?

Go to http://www.ssa.gov/ and research based upon your situation (if you've ever worked before or not). I got so overwhelmed by the online application process that my mom, who does bureaucracy for a living, helped relieve a load of anxiety from me by filling out my paperwork for me as well as she could (she's legally my Power of Attorney and so having her handle my paperwork was totally fine) and then calling their help-line.

Generally, the hardest part about applying is the waiting and resisting becoming discouraged, because Social Security is a slow ass process, and you're lucky if you hear back within several months of an application for an update, much less approval. However, depending on your situation, you may be required to go to an SSA-approved doctor or therapist to review your records and verify that you're still as disabled as you were when you first started your application as a last step before your application process is officially complete. For me, all I had to do was answer a therapist's questions about what my quality of life was like (my answer was "What quality of life?" because I was That Miserable), how my mobility was, how well I functioned around strangers and peers, what chronic pain/problems I dealt with, how long I could stand to be on my feet, and generally gave a rundown of what I could and couldn't handle about an "average" person's daily life and typical expected work load in your stereotypical office or retail setting.

The most important thing about applying is getting the application started as early as possible and making contact with an actual SSA representative! Even if you never follow through with applying (again, you are not penalized if you drop out! You can pick up where you left off or start completely over at any time when you're applying for federal benefits like SSI), after you reach a certain point in being Acknowledged By SSA As An Applicant For Assistance, the clock starts. Your clock starts - and I mean that in a very, very good way.

Once the SSA receives your initial request for SSI or SSDI, they automatically begin calculating any and all back-pay THEY owe YOU when you get approved as long as you're still applying and appealing. For me, my first SSI check came in at almost $6,000, because it took me around 10 months or so after my initial application to get approved, and the absolute basest rate for SSI benefits at that time was about $600/mo. I now make a little under $1k/mo with SSI alone, with my payments increasing automatically with inflation or if a single billionaire bothered to pay any taxes this year. If a major financial problem occurs in my life, like if my mom were to suddenly want more rent, I can report it to the SSA and they'll compensate me for at least some of that increased rent.

SSI/SSDI is not going to make you rich or solve all of your financial issues, and you are not legally allowed to work without special permission and circumstances while receiving benefits, but it can help take some of the pressure off if you literally have no other way of getting financial help. Because they're both federal programs, you're able to receive SSI/SSDI benefits along with many of your state's local benefit programs, like state-funded insurance, welfare, and food stamps to further stretch your budget and help you financially.

Little things that helped me along the way:

I cried a lot. At first it was humiliating to feel my emotions drop out from under me in the middle of a conversation with an SSA rep, but when he heard me beginning to lose it and sob at how hard everything is all the time, he became even more helpful with my case. He was a very sweet man named Dennis from Georgia. The same went with anyone else I had to see or speak to; if I just broke down crying and showed my actual feelings of resentment and humiliation at being so broken down and disabled that I officially needed Federal Government Daddy's money, they'd be a lot more compassionate and helpful. Show your emotions. Be upset. Let the people you speak to know that you feel like crap because, in spite of all your years of trying and trying to Be A Normal Person, things haven't gotten any better and maybe have even gotten worse.

I spoke my truth. I had a lot of suicidal ideology going on when I started applying, and as difficult and scary as it was, admitting that I was feeling like I had no other way out or way to help my family not be burdened by me was through suicide. I said that I would rather be talking to a doctor about assisted suicide than talking to the person I was talking to about asking for basic federal assistance. The therapist I said that to was alarmed and heartbroken that I preferred the thoughts of suicide to the thoughts of pursuing SSI, and was very, very quick to reassure me that I wasn't a failure, and that she was there to see me and help me get what I needed now that I was asking for it. She praised me for telling the truth and being brave enough to keep applying and trying.

I let myself be symptomatic. No masking, no pain meds, nothing; when I had to deal with people assessing me for SSI (which weren't many, but the stakes to me were too high to try to mask even once), I went in exhausted, in pain, stinking from not showering because I was struggling, rushing to and from the bathroom with stress IBS, and very vocally in favor of dying rather than continuing to fuss around with paperwork. When the exhaustion and fatigue made me want to cry, I cried. When someone wanted to touch me - like to take my blood pressure at the doctor's - I allowed myself to jolt away and need to be asked if it was okay before I was touched by anyone. I allowed my Neurotypical Tolerance Level to reach 0, and to be the goddamn mess I really was inside, and still am.

I did not express optimism or hope. I made it clear that I was going through the motions because I "knew I was going to get denied anyway". I knew most people never get approved, and I was honest that I knew it and expected nothing but wasted time while I went through the application process as one final attempt to not be such a hindrance to the people around me.

That following October, I got a snail-mail letter in my mailbox congratulating me for being approved for SSI, and that if I was reading the letter and had not received my first payments, I would after a short time and was asked to call them if I didn't. It took about 10 months total to get through all of it once my mom teamed up with me to help me with the Official Process, and checked my bank account to find not only my very first payment sitting in my checking account, but the past 10 months' worth of payments I would've received if I'd already been on benefits. I used it to decorate my bedroom, which was so spare and empty it looked like nobody lived there, get new clothes I desperately needed (I was 30 and still relying on hand-me-down clothes and underwear from when I was a teenager), started paying my mom rent so I felt less like a leech and more like an investor in our family home, and am now in the process of getting a brand new power wheelchair, because my problems with walking and standing were what got me to start applying, and life has gotten better enough that I can now afford the mobility aids I need.

[p1nkcanoe]

p1nk’s cowboy ghoul hc’s 🤠

yeehaw, let’s get it

wild west is probably a more fitting description, but mmmmm cowboys... ANYWAYS

!! mentions of blood, violence, injury, dishonorable and illegal activity, weapons...

swiss

every time I think of cowboy swiss I can’t get raven’s post out of my head. this man is adorned with gold and covered in tattoos--most of which are messy and self-done--and a sight to behold. he's all broad shoulders and a tiny waist, and sports the thickest, neatest mustache for miles. what exactly he does to make his money is a mystery. nobody really knows where he's from, or what he's about, but he tends to stick around town for days at a time before disappearing without a word, only to return days--maybe weeks--later and refusing to speak a word of his absence. he's known as a ghost to the locals, drifting in and out and working silently and without a trace of evidence for his story, and he likes it that way. swiss works for lots of people and also nobody at all. he's got connections all over the continent and is willing to carry out any task in return for a good check and a word with a wealthier man. he's got money buried underground in burlap sacks and old dynamite crates hidden in caves, evidence of his loyalty and unwavering reliability, and even though his hands are covered in blood he's carried onward by the mountains of honor on his shoulders.

aether

big boy’s the sheriff of a small town hidden around the bend of a river and guarded by hills and mountains. he’s a highly respected man, had gained his title and work through his high honor and kind heart, and he’s dedicated to keeping his people safe. he wears his big, golden star on his chest with great pride, but the sheriff's not as clean as he seems. he's got connections far outside of his station and dabbles in the very things that he locks "dirty criminals" up for. he's got a distribution agreement with cirrus and her moonshine monopoly, has sunshine as an acquaintance, keeps swiss sheltered, clean, and working for mutual benefit, and has dewdrop to complete the more dishonorable work that he can't complete himself. aether has a prideful reputation to uphold but he still sleeps with one eye open at night. nobody here is a saint.

dewdrop

dew’s aether’s right hand. he does all the dirty work- the things that aeth can’t do himself without risking his reputation. and he’s good at what he does. he’s silent, stealthy, and isn’t afraid to take an extra risk to finish what needs to be done. this kind of work comes with a price, though. dew’s done some things that he’ll never speak of, not even with aether, but as long as he sits down with him at the end of a long day and joins him for a beer they don't press too far into it. dew's quiet. he doesn't speak much but he has a temper that's unusually short and tends to get him into stupid barfights that he knows he won't walk away the winner from. sure, he's dispatched countless men, but he's still not the biggest guy in the bar... sometimes he feels like he needs a little pain for the things he's done; the things he's seen. an eye for an eye, as they say. it's the closest he'll get to experience peace of mind.

cumulus

cumulus is the daughter of a wealthy barkeep. her family has owned the tavern in town for generations and you can usually find her there, playing the piano and keeping drunken men entertained with her charm, pretty teeth, and big curly blonde hair. but don’t get it wrong—lus holds her own and she keeps both the regulars and the stragglers in line with nothing but her own two fists—and you better not get her daddy involved if you know what’s good for you. she may be a good girl in the books but she's got her own contracts behind the scenes. she's got a regular who comes in once every week or so and stocks their shelves with 'shine. as far as anyone is concerned, it's on request and with good word from the sheriff, but in reality she's managed to catch the eye of the best moonshiner in the state. sure, she completes the business end of the contract and makes sure the cabinets are full, but their personal affairs after hours are solely a business of their own.

sunshine

sunshine is a deadly motherfucker. she may not look like much but there's a saying that goes around that claims that she's never missed a shot. she runs around with a gang up in the hills and occasionally comes into town to visit the tavern and spend some coin in the shops (it's rumored that she's got a little something for the piano girl, but nobody's ever had the balls to ask around). she operates on her own time and by her own rules; no questions asked and no compromises. what she says, goes. and that's a threat. it's true that sometimes the sheriff's a little iffy about her presence, but she's assured him a million times that as long as he lets her slide by that she'll leave him alone. she's not usually one to make deals or partnerships outside her gang, but she is a woman of her promise and aeth has never put forth the idea of testing it. occasionally she'll roll in when swiss is in town and together they're a dangerous duo. that's what really scares the shit out of him. together they could take over the town in a heartbeat. but they wont. they're outlaws, not monsters.

mountain

mountain is a free spirit. he lives nowhere in particular, migrates from place to place with his camp on his back. he has a special bond with nature, enamored with the beauty of the earth, and he would much rather risk getting lost in the wilderness than to settle in even a tiny town. but every blue moon he'll wander in and say hello to familiar faces, sell some animal pelts and lost items for a few dollars, and spend a cozy night in the tavern--more than taken care of by morning. he's an interesting sight as well, choosing to wear handmade leather shoes over any nice pair of boots and sporting a hat made from a raccoon and possum pelt. he has excellent handiwork and if you ask nicely he might just bring you a little handmade article next time he visits (whenever that may be). "where you off to this time?" and "when'll you be back?" aeth will ask as he's loading up his horse again for the road, and mount always answers the exact same: "somewhere, and sometime. i'll tell you about it when I get back." aether always laughs, gives his horse a pat, and shakes his strong right hand. "just don't die out there," he says. "no promises."

cirrus

"what'd you bring me this time, pretty lady?" aether asks, lifting up the cloth concealing two dozen liquor jugs, maybe more. a thick stack of cash is handed over with his other hand. "only the best." cirrus is a moonshiner and she’s got her hand on the best product for a thousand miles in every direction. she built her business from the ground up, a careful process of trial and error, and eventually distilled her final product with her own careful hands. her shine burns like fire and goes down like candy on your tongue. it's the most potent product for miles and puts hair on a grown man's chest--and she's made herself quite the penny off of it. cirrus is a powerful woman. she doesn't put up with bullshit and handles the majority of her conflicts herself. she's survived a thousand bullets, they say, and walked through a million acres of fire with bare feet. she's invincible. the only evidence that supports her mortality is the loss of her right eye. she shields it under a wide brimmed hat embellished with rubies and feathers from birds found a thousand miles away. but it's never hidden. it's a medal, a warning, a token of her strength. at every point they thought they'd killed her-she always came right back.

rain

rain, rain rain… where do I even start? he’s a tall, lean boy with a pretty face who tends to get himself into all kinds of sticky situations. he’s quick witted, extremely unserious, but smart as hell. he’s also a master on horseback and quite the horse whisperer. he's usually up to his neck in mud or working in the stables, boarding and managing the horses belonging to visitors, but he especially loves it when a stranger comes in, one that stays for a passing night and leaves early in the morning. he'll strike up a conversation, perhaps use his charm to get some extra coins for cheap liquor from the general store... but the boy is also a petty thief. he can't help himself, it's a habit he can't shake. the saddle bags are the easiest, but pockets and coat jackets are just so much more fun. once he slipped his hand into the coat pocket of the town's own passing ghost, stealing an important looking silver pocket watch and a dollar coin when he'd cornered him in the hay shed with the promise of a kiss. he hadn't gotten away with that one so easy... swiss--as he now knew him--returned only hours later with the brim of his hat set low and a cigarette lit between his lips and rain cracked under the pressure of a steel knife to his throat. and for some reason after that swiss took a liking to the foolish stablehand. perhaps it was his charm or the promise of a kiss he never received, but he always made the effort to bring rain little valuables from his time away. they were the only gifts he ever kept from a stranger--if you could even call him a stranger. he just made sure to never question where they came from.

phantom and aurora

who...? who are these two stragglers who just rode into town? they don't have much and they seem to be looking to stick around... I guess we'll just have to wait and see what they're about.

p1nk’s cowboy ghoul headcanons are brought to you by the entirety of lord huron’s long lost album as well as too many hours spent on red dead redemption...

(tagging @crimsonclergy and @royalchachi bc they got cowboy worms like me fr)

I’ll probably end up doing more w this, going into depth about outfits n shi. but talk to me about your thoughts, I wanna hear em.

[miss-ingno]

So @justacoyote did this last year, and I thought it was fun and wanted to give it a try! And then time passed and now I'm late as usual xD

How many works do you have on AO3? currently 210

What's your total AO3 word count? 1,133,881

What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Guardian, Granting You A Dreamlike Life, and Grimm

Plus a couple on-and-off or exchange-only fandoms like Dreamcatcher's Deja Vu, Disney's Descendants, Naruto, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Eldest Princess On Top (Zhǎng Gōng Zhǔ Zài Shàng), Castlevania (Cartoon) and Assassin's Creed (early games).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Partners in Crimes (RTAH RPF, Freewood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 907 kudos

Blindfold (RTAH RPF, Freewood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 858 kudos

The Dwight Timing (RTAH RPF, Jeremwood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 653 kudos

Take No Prisoners (Take No Shit), (RTAH RPF, original AH OT6, Fake AH Crew AU) at 581 kudos (my first and oldest work for ragehappy fandom /o\ and it shows lol)

Just Let Me Know If You Want It (It's Strictly Physical), (Dragon Age II, Fenders, omegaverse smut) at 561 kudos

Devil's Deal (Disney's Descendants, Jaylos + Harlos, pre-canon) at 515 kudos

As much as I loved my time back then in RTAH fandom, I do hope to eventually get a fic more popular unrelated to H*ywood, considering what was revealed about his irl behaviour.

For funsies, my top-kudoses Guardian work is Seas Cannot Be Measured (Weilan, outsider pov, kidfic) at 364 kudos. The second work I posted in my current fandom :D!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, because I like engaging with other fans! And if someone takes the time to leave me a comment, even a short one, I want to at least thank them because it means a lot to me <3

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably All Our Memories, They're Haunted, a Deja Vu MV fic in which Yoohyeon slowly descends into killing all her friends.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This one's hard! I write a lot of fluffy one-shots where the point is the happiness? Like, Days of Splendour is literally about Weilan getting their happy ending wedding.

Similarly, Pivot is a fix-it ending for Critical Role season 1, in which Vax doesn't die and Gilmore gets to date him, too.

And The Fringe Benefits Of Being Family is fluffy future kidfic snippets in which Weilan get to be parents while their girls grow up.

Do you get hate on fics?

I once got a backhanded compliment on a fic where the commenter asserted they didn't usually read this ship because the shippers are all sus for shipping it and did it wrong, but my take passed their sniff-test. But they'd keep a close eye on my next work for this ship, just in case.

I vaguely recall getting a comment once and then immediately deleting it, but I can't for the life of me remember why. Probably for the best?

And there was that ask I once got that sticks in my brain because it was HILARIOUS. It asserted that because I have a recognizable style and used things like. Grammar and paragraph formatting for pacing, my writing was dry and boring and the worst and I just was copying myself with every new fic. I screenshot it and had a good laugh with friends over it :D

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, and a lot of different kinds! Sometimes I want to explore certain kinks, like tentacles (What Lies In Darkness, Weilan with eldritch!Shen Wei) or D/s (Good Vibrations, Dom!ZYL with sub!Shen Wei). Other times I just want to explore the relationship between the characters (Special Occasion, Weilan birthday blowjob) or worldbuilding (Long Night In Longcheng, Weilan canon au with dragon!Shen Wei).

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I love crossovers! I sadly haven't written too many, though. I have some old WIPs for a Naruto x Batman Beyond and a YGO! x SG-1 crossovers in my pile I occasionally return to, but nowhere close to finished. And I'm seriously considering writing a Guardian x Grimm crossover at some point lol

Malum Purificatum, Guardian x Assassin's Creed II (AKA Weilan meets Ezio)

It's You And Me (Amongst The Stars), Critical Role s1 x Stargate SG-1, in which Pike & Grog meet SG-1

Sink Your Teeth In (To The People You Depend On), Jurassic World x MCU, raptor!Darcy Lewis/Owen Grady, unfinished WIP

A Trickster's Pact, ragehappy x MCU, Freewood

One Fact Changes All, YGO! x HP, Tendershipping, my first and oldest crossover, unfinished and abandoned

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

The closest I got (that I'm aware of) is someone copying the exact premise of my fic in a beat-by-beat way without crediting me for the inspiration. It was memorable because it was my most popular fic at that point and the fandom didn't have a similar premise before.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Recently someone Furimmer translated my story An Intimate Touch into Russian! First time someone found my fic worth it to translate, I'm so happy still just thinking about it :D (It's also interesting to see they chose a different snippet to highlight in the summary, ha! That one seemed to resonate with them more. Can't blame them ;) )

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have! @itskaysno is a wonderful co-pilot <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? Weilan (Guardian), Nick/Renard/Juliette (Grimm), and Jane/Uma (Disney's Descendants). I tend to be a multishipper, but these never fail to get me in the feels :D

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Of my posted WIPs: Hey Baby (I Think I Wanna Marry You), Shipwreck Isles, Your Prince Is In Another Castle, and Triple Duke Coup. Probably Ghost of a Chance, too, unless I get inspired by writing different YGO! fic to pick it up again. I'm 50-50 on whether I'll find motivation to finish Let Your Hearts' Melody Entwine With Mine

Of my unposted WIPs, if I've moved on from the fandom, I'm unlikely to put them up. That's why I posted a deluge of WIPs when I left the ragehappy fandom, because I couldn't see myself picking them up again, but I also regularly regret not e.g. having posted certain Naruto fic way back when I was writing them. Now the quality just doesn't hold up to my current standard, but I'm not going back to edit them, either.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at dialogue and fighting scenes! I practiced writing fighting scenes a lot because they used to be one of my weak spots, and now I'm comfy where I'm at skill level wise. I like pitting characters against each other, too, though I still have room for improvement in that area.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Environmental storytelling. Character conflict that lasts longer than a handful of scenes. 15k+ longfic (I'm terribly at keeping myself motivated to write them and then never finish). Slow burn and character/relationship development that takes a while to get to (keeping characters consistent but still having them change is hard to juggle! Especially since I have a tendency to write scenes out of order)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it's a language I know, I'm comfortable with it! It needs to be done for effect, though. Unless we're talking prefixes/suffixes and other addresses of respect/relation that just don't translate well (e.g. yifu, shixiong, xiao/lao, -kun, -senpai, etc.) but reveal information about the exact way characters relate to each other.

First fandom you wrote for? Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (back on German fanfic site Animexx). It was a self-insert OC portal fic where she ends up with Seto Kaiba xD I think I named her Leia or similar? I forget.

Favorite fic you've written?

The fic I'm writing for FFFX rn is a serious contender for top spot, if I manage to pull it off the way I imagine it.

I'm still pretty proud of Two Of A Kind (Guardian, Ya Qing/Zhu Hong & Shen Wei) and Safe In Your Hands (Weilan, post-canon with smut). The older a work is, the more I tend to see the flaws in it :') so my answers usually tend to be pretty recent stuff!

@itskaysno @ganglylimbs @elenothar @the-marron @sasamelons @sailorbryant @yilian0203 @treemaidengeek if any of you (or anyone else!) would like to do this, too, feel yourself tagged <3

[kin0th]

Headcanons about Kino post Vampire LE route? Like, what kind of things would he do with Yui/Player character?

Given that Kino's LE Vampire Ending is pretty much disconnected from the CDs and everything that came after, I will do my best to make like an After Story of sorts with info from both Drama CDs and Route!

Kino After Story Headcanons

👑. In Kino's Vampire ending, we fast forward to see Kino's plan of taking Ghouls to the Promised Land succeeding, ending with their discrimination and giving them a better life.

👑. Yui is still in contact with the Sakamaki brothers by sending them letters, and they send them things from the human world.

👑. Ghouls no longer live in Rotigenberg, nor do Kino and Yui. But they do keep a good relationship with one another.

👑. They keep contact with Yuuri as well, either sending him letters or visiting him. Plus, Kino usually buys things for him whenever they are out on a date or when he buys something for himself. Yuuri is always in his mind.

👑. When it comes to Yui and Kino's relationship, Yui innocently follows Kino's antics, only refusing when she's put into a dangerous situation or it's too embarrassing for her to handle. However, as Kino loves to twist her (and everyone's) words to his benefit, she hardly ends up saying no at all.

👑. Admittedly, Kino is still on the fence about Yui's loyalty at first. He's scared of being fooled again and to be wasting his time. He might test her with different tactics to see how she reacts and how trustworthy she really is for him.

👑. Nevertheless, Yui proves him wrong whenever he doubts her by being herself and staying despite his careless (and destructive) decisions. Her pure heart always tries to see the best of him even if Kino himself is unable to see it. Thus, he now wants her by his side no matter what.

👑. Kino is much like a child someone has to watch over whenever he's bored. He would wreck havoc for fun and deal with the consequences later. Yui is often dragged with him into the chaos, often getting hurt which makes Kino feel awful.

👑. They go to a lot of dates in the human world. Game cons, festivals, at school itself, at home for game nights, even buying groceries together and making a meal together can be as chaotic as it can be special.

👑. Needless to say, Kino is very clingy when he's grown attached to someone, very touchy beyond the usual bites, no matter where they are. He likes to get affectionate in public, startling Yui and enjoying her flustered reactions.

👑. Naturally, their closer relationship doesn't stop him from toying with her as he pleases. Demanding something and putting a timer on her to do it fast (or else), setting up obnoxious rules for random tasks, making a challenge out of everything with it's fitting punishment, etc.

👑. The difference between this behavior and the usual one before they get together is his motive, or his intentions. He might feel remorseful and apologize if any of his silly pranks end up really hurting Yui or doing more harm than good in the end. In short, he does it for fun, not to torment her like he initially would.

👑. Yui is much more shy than Kino but also much more insightful. Kino is very outgoing but doesn't handle people very well. While it's hard for them to find a common ground, he does want to be less pointlessly mean and be more considerate, at least with Yui... But it is easier said than done. He tries, though!

👑. All in all, Kino always wants to have fun and ideally Yui would have fun with him. For Yui, as long as Kino is happy, she is happy as well.

[lamuradex]

Lucid and Dreaming

(That is not the best banner but I tried)

A Horror Short Story (Wordcount: 11,380)

This is the longest Horror short story I've ever written. Please enjoy.

Maya learned to lucid dream so she could get some control over her sleeping hours. She's able to visit memories, relive moments with her girlfriend Ashley, and use her dreams for her own benefit. But what happens when you can't tell dreams from reality? WAKE UP, MAYA! Ashley is waiting for you. And she's in your dreams too.

A decent length short story about a woman, Maya, trapped in her dreams. Reliving, or possibly flashing forwards, with dreams about her girlfriend, or possibly her wife, Ashley, Maya starts to find she can't even trust her own mind while she's asleep, and she doesn't know where the dreams end.

Content: Light Gore, Dreams, Implied Nudity, Slight Body Horror, Unreality

My Writing tag: #Lamura Dex Writes!

Please enjoy this and my other works. Novels and major WIPS are linked in the pinned post on the blog. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Anyway, onto the story!

Lucid and Dreaming

So, you want to learn how to lucid dream?

My name is Maya, I’m 25, and I learned to lucid dream because there are only so many hours in the day to process everything. I’m a busy woman, a photographer, and to be able to spend my sleeping hours as well as my waking ones thinking just seems the best of both worlds. And it isn’t as hard as you’d imagine.

I wake up in my bed. I then have to check if I’m dreaming.

The trick to it is to have a tell. Dream checks and the like, something to let you know you’re asleep. Some people consciously check if they’re dreaming several times a day, so they’ll notice when they actually are. Others train their brain to create a subconscious tell, like a flag or a bouncing red ball. If that’s there, then they’re dreaming. It was a lot of effort to go to, and I’m not gonna say it’s consistent, but it’s certainly better than the nightmares I used to have. Now I’ve got some control. Now I can dream whatever I want.

So I wake up in my bed and check if I’m dreaming. I raise my hands and count my fingers. That’s normal. I check if I’m breathing. Seem to be. I find something to read. There’s a book on my bedside table that I haven’t read yet. It’s title is… The Ballad of Princcccwew Strorrr

That’s not right. Not right at all. And so, I must be dreaming. Here we go.

I jump out of bed and run downstairs. My Mum is in the kitchen cooking breakfast and my dog is sat at the table. This is strange for a number of reasons, such as me not having a dog and me moving out from home years ago. I’m definitely dreaming.

I ignore them and head outside. Suddenly, it’s my childhood street, not the one I really live on. No matter. It’ll take me where I want to go.

I try to focus. If you really focus, you can sometimes control it. Change the dream. And I want to relive something.

I concentrate and keep walking. The street becomes a park. The park shouldn’t be anywhere near this street, but it doesn’t matter. There she is. My best friend, Ashley. Well, more than a best friend now. We made it official last week, when she kissed me on that very bench. We’d been dancing around it for weeks and finally…

I want to relive that kiss. I want to live in that moment again. Her look of shyness, her hurried explanation. Her light brown skin, deep brown eyes, and that silky chocolate hair, all so perfect in the afternoon light. That smile, those lips, the ones she insists on painting red. Like an invitation. And those words seared into my brain.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time, but I can’t keep pretending. Things are different now. You know, after that party a few weeks ago… when we almost…”

“What are you saying, Ash?”

“I’m saying… I really did want to, that night, and it wasn’t just the beer talking. I wanted to kiss you. I… like you, Maya. Like, a lot. I really like you.”

I remember blushing. The heat replays in my cheeks in the dream. “Really?”

“Yes!” she exclaims, punching me in the arm. “Oh my god, as if it weren’t obvious. I’ve been staring at you ever since.”

“I noticed.”

“And you’ve been freaking flirting with me. Just… I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re my best friend, May.”

“And you’re mine too. But that doesn’t mean our friendship is ending. It’s just… gotten deeper. More interesting. More… intimate.”

I sit back, arms behind my head, casual as I can be. Girlfriends are nothing new to me… unfortunately. A string of bad luck there. But Ashley has only been out of the closet a couple of years. And I loved her even before that. Have to play it a little cool, not freak her out.

“More intimate?” she asks.

“Yeah. It means… we get to do stuff. And be together. And kiss.”

Ashley’s eyes widen. I almost laugh. I would have too had I not been just as terrified.

“I’d… I’d like that,” she says finally.

“Like we were going to at the party?”

“Kiss me. Right now.”

I remember it well. It plays out in the dream. I didn’t even have time to ask a question. Her hand just grabs my chin, spins my head, and her ruby painted lips plant against my beige ones. Softness, gentleness, a thrill like lightning down my spine. And I relive it all in the dream.

And then she pulls away. Her phone buzzes. I still curse that phone sometimes. She leaves.

I am alone, but I don’t feel alone. Not anymore.

I want to relive it again. Live in the dream. Live in that moment forever.

But, like a fine wine, I want to savour it. Like a song I really enjoy, I want to hold off on listening to it. I don’t want to dull my enjoyment by replaying it too much. I don’t want to wear down the grooves on the record. I’ll leave it stuck in my head for a while.

I get up and walk home. My street is my street again. My dog and my Mum are gone. I wander back upstairs.

The other problem with lucid dreaming is waking up. If you’re in a dream world, how do you end it, if it doesn’t feel like you’re dreaming? Some people just beg to wake up. Some can compel themselves to do so. Me, I’ve trained myself to have an out. An escape. An exit.

Behind a picture in my room, a picture of Ashley hung on the wall, is a sticker she stuck there. Just a red circle, to cover up a crack, but every time I see it I think it’s a button for half a second. And in my dreams that’s what it is. A button, round and red, with “Exit” written on it. It’s not subtle, but it’s also my final dream check, in case all others fail.

I press it and I wake up. Easy as that.

-

I wake up in my bed. I’m in my room. I kiss my fingers and plant the kiss on the photo of Ashley, barely having to look. Then I get up and head downstairs. My house, my stairs, my kitchen. No Mum, no dog, and my house is on my proper street. All is well.

“Morning,” says my husband. He’s cooking breakfast and…

That’s not right… Is it?

I look at him. Jeff. He’s polite, he’s charming, I know there was a wedding, I remember it. He’s cooking breakfast, bacon and eggs, and whistling a jaunty tune. And I love him, don’t I? But in my dream…

Was Ashley just a dream?

My brain curls around that idea. He comes over and kisses me on the cheek, putting down my breakfast. But Ashley seemed so…

“Everything alright, honey?” he asks.

“Everything’s fine,” I answer distantly.

Dream checks. I need dream checks. I check my hands, nothing wrong there. There’s a ring on my finger, which is interesting. I think back to when I woke up. Is my bed actually big enough for two? I don’t know. What about me breathing? Have I been-

I haven’t been breathing. Not since I woke up. I certainly haven’t been smelling the breakfast, lovingly cooked by Jeff. I should have smelled it by now. And suddenly, I recognise him. Jeff. He’s wearing the face of some celebrity. A reused head for the dream. He’s the man who does the toothpaste ads. I recognise the pearly white smile.

Further confirmation, as if I need it, I look at Jeff’s newspaper. It’s the Daily Cryer Crysler Crisper… Nonsense. I’m still dreaming.

I abandon the breakfast and hurry back upstairs. There’s a picture of Jeff beside my bed. It was definitely Ashley before. I’m definitely still dreaming… but just to be sure, I slip the picture aside and there it is. The Exit Button. I hit it without delay.

-

I wake up in my bed. That was… strange. I rub my eyes tiredly. Not to worry though, you hear about this stuff happening. Hell, it happens to people who don’t lucid dream. You dream that you’ve woken up but you’re really still dreaming.

I kiss my fingers and plant it on Ashley’s photo, right beside my bed, reaching over The Ballad of Prince Antoine, the book I’ve been meaning to read. And I can read the title now, which is good. I get up and… I double check the photo on my wall is still Ashley before I go. It is. I head downstairs.

My house is quiet, as it should be. No Mum, no dog, no Jeff. I rub my eyes again. Tired. You shouldn’t be tired if you spent all night sleeping. You shouldn’t be tired if you spent all night dreaming. It’s bullshit.

Luckily, it’s my day off. Freelance photographer, no jobs lined up for today, a modelling photoshoot tomorrow. And I’m looking forward to it, despite the snootiness. The models are usually fun, it’s the managers who are jerks. But, with nothing to do, I decide to veg out on the couch, phone at my side, texting Ash. Oh, wait… she’s at work. Office job where you aren’t allowed your phone at your desk. Never understood that.

TV is drivel. Daytime talk shows, family dramas in front of an audience, old reruns of older programs that can’t get a good timeslot. It all just blurs together. I’m pretty sure I’m sat there for hours. I check my phone and no texts. Of course there aren’t. It’s barely 11:00am. I get up, make some breakfast, and eat it without really noticing. Toast and… whatever else was in the fridge. Cheese, I think?

I’m back on the couch as if I never left. TV drivel. It’s actually so dull it’s giving me a headache, like it’s draining my brain of any good sense. The clock strikes twelve.

Dream checks. Hands, breathing… there isn’t any writing nearby. No trouble though.

I can barely stand to watch any more and my phone is annoyingly silent. I watched five episodes of something and it’s still only twelve! I can’t take it!

But there is that book I’ve been meaning to read. I’ve put it off, it never seemed too interesting, but why not? It’s been sat on my bedside table for ages and I’ve barely cracked the cover.

I turn off the TV and retrieve the book, looking at the photo of Ash again as I pass. I’ve had that photo for years, from some party. I wonder if she knows I keep it on the wall beside my bed… Of course she does. She stuck a sticker back there. Duh.

Anyway, The Ballad of Prince… whatever his name was. I settle back on the couch, crack the spine, and turn to the first page.

“Once upon a time, there was a veby dandsome blaaand. Blis name waf-”

That’s not right.

I read it again. Something is definitely wrong here. Am I having a stroke? A migraine? God, I hope it isn’t a migraine! Ash gets them and they seem like hell-

Dreaming!

I launch the book across the room, smashing a mirror. I pause. There isn’t a mirror there. But there is now, hanging over the mantle. But there shouldn’t be a mantle there! I look in the fragmented remains of the glass, a face staring back at me. I don’t think its my face. It’s ginger for one thing. Bright ginger. Comically ginger. My hair’s more of a hazelnut. I think I wore that ginger wig for Halloween once though.

The face winks at me.

I scramble back and pull out my phone. Dream checks, dream checks, dream checks! There’s a text from Ash, but after her name it’s just… letters. Just letters in a blue box.

I run upstairs, two at a time, maybe three. Perhaps I’m even flying. I arrive in my room and land on the bed. I look at the photo, still of her, and pull it aside. I find the button.

Not a sticker. A button.

I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed and rub my eyes tiredly. What the hell! I yawn and stretch, knowing I should not be this tired if I slept all-

“Hey, watch it!” Ashley yelps, my hand bumping her cheek. “And good morning to you too.”

I startle, very nearly springing from the bed. I’ve got one foot on the floor before my brain catches up and stops me. Ashley is my wife. I know that. We’ve been married for a year. There’s a ring on my finger. I was just dreaming of our early days. Nostalgia. That’s it. Our first kiss and that past sweet romance. Not that marriage isn’t nice too.

“Are you okay?” she smiles.

“Um… I’m fine, I think.”

“You sure?”

“I…”

Didn’t I just wake up? Just before all this? But of course the dream is already fading, which is always SO frustrating! And Ash looks distractingly beautiful, my wonderful wife, rousing certain *ahem* marital thoughts. And she doesn’t even have her makeup on yet. She’s always had a thing about being seen without it. She’d hate to admit she’s gorgeous either way, lipstick or not. Or without her clothes… And she is naked. Yep. Very naked. Both of us are, actually. And why not? We are a married couple.

“Um…”

“Seriously, you look a million miles away, May.”

“Just… a weird dream,” I answer finally, getting back under the covers and snuggling up to her. All is right here.

“Don’t get too comfy, you’ve got a job to get to.” She flicks my ear.

I groan. I miss my freelance photography job, but a mortgage doesn’t pay itself. I had to join a professional studio, but unfortunately my coworkers suck. The ones who aren’t novices are entitled pricks who think themselves god’s gift to artistry. And all the equipment’s so expensive, and…

“Didn’t you hear me? Your paycheque isn’t under those covers.”

“Something else is though,” I smirk.

She flicks my ear again. “Up! I’ve got to go out too. Margaret says she needs help selling the Haliday property.”

My wife, the realtor. Different office, different job, same frustrations. Annoying coworkers for one. Still, she does look good in that red jacket.

I reluctantly get up. Before I know it, I’m dressed. So is she, and I didn’t even get an eyeful. But work needs doing and dollars need earning. Off we go.

The day goes as you’d expect. At the studio, Frank forgets how to focus the lens again, we’re hired to photograph a family and they insist on including the dog, which makes a mess on the floor. We make Frank clean it. Lunch is a moment of peace. I almost have time for a dream check, before Andrew sees me and laughs, asking what I’m doing. None of your business, Andrew! Back to work. Ted and Andrew are arguing about backdrops for the new client. Andrew wants a brick wall, Ted a field of flowers. I set up a white sheet and the client doesn’t even notice. Andrew says it’s tacky, but fuck Andrew. Five o’clock cannot come soon enough.

It finally creeps along and I dart out the moment the clock turns. Train back, three stops, back down the road. Same house I’ve lived in for years.

I look up and there’s Ash, across the way, just stepping out of the house with a For Sale sign. Someone’s taking down the sign. Good work, Ash. She sees me and waves, hurrying to greet me. A smile, the light in her eyes, a gap between two parked cars-

Headlights! Crack! Thud! The screeching of tires, far too late to be of any use.

It came out of nowhere. The car came out of fucking nowhere! But Ash-

I find her lying in the road. She’s moving, just barely, her neck at a terrible angle. And she can’t speak. She looks up into my eyes, through my eyes, off into the beyond. Just a few guttering breaths escape her lips. A pool of blood is spreading from her. From her arm, her legs, her head. Bones jutting through clothes. I hold her. Hot blood, her head’s at the wrong angle, and then-

Stillness. She stops moving. She stops breathing.

She’s gone.

No….

The ambulance is there before I can realise. I hold her and stroke her motionless cheek. The driver stops and begs that it wasn’t his fault. I kiss her forehead and the sparkle in her eyes has gone. The ambulance men drag her from my arms. Her body hangs limp, eyes empty and staring. I step back. She’s gone… she’s just… gone.

No… NO!

A flood of pain surges up from my stomach, through my heart and into my head. My mind collapses under the strain. It can’t be real! Everything hurts, thinking hurts! She can’t be gone! She can’t be! NO! Her face stands in my mind’s eye, her sparkling eyes, her shattered neck. I look down at myself, at my reddened clothes, at the reddened ground, at the blood that-

There’s no blood.

I look at the road, the doctors, the sheet they’ve thrown over the corpse. It should be crimson, but it’s pure and white. My heart is in my throat, I feel like I should be vomiting, that I should be screaming but-

There’s no blood. This can’t be happening.

This really can’t be happening. This isn’t real.

I run from the scene. Sprint faster than I ever have before. I run inside my house, our house, our home. Everything is deathly silent. I run upstairs and it feels like forever, like time is running backwards. But there’s the photo on the wall. Her photo, her wonderful face, her beautiful eyes. I hesitate before I move it, too hurt to hope. I can’t dare to think I’m wrong. She can’t be gone!

But there’s the button. Not a sticker. A button.

I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed, bolting upright and sweating. It can’t be real, it can’t be! It can’t-

I slowly look round. A form is lying in the bed beside me. Ashley is lying there beside me.

I start to breathe again. My heart slows down. I lay back, staring at her as she sleeps.

It couldn’t be real. Not her. Never her.

And it wasn’t. She’s here. I’m here. And I’m awake.

The alarm goes off on the bedside table and Ashley begins to stir. She opens her eyes and sees me staring.

“Morning?” she questions.

“You just… looked really pretty,” I lie. Well, it is true, but…

“Thanks,” Ash narrows her gaze. She’s always had a thing about being seen without her makeup. Still, she smiles. “Now, time to get up.”

A flash of cold dread flares, but I breathe. It wasn’t real. She sees me.

“You okay?”

“Bad dream. It was… awful,” I say, trying not to recall the images.

“Oh, sweetie.” She comes up from the sheets and kisses my cheek. Naked again. We do usually wear pyjamas, don’t we? “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

“I know.”

With a creeping, inevitable momentum, we both rise, drift apart, and prepare for work. I miss my old freelance photography job, but I had to join this studio… I suddenly get déjà vu. When did I last say that?

Doesn’t matter. Off to work. The next few hours pass in a frenzy of incompetence and ego. I keep my head down and work. Andrew nearly flips his lid when I miss something he says, but I’m distracted. That broken neck…

My head is swimming. Things feel wrong. But is that just the dream. Dreams? How many times have I woken up? How many times have I actually gone to bed first?

The day crawls by and coffee soothes many worries, or at least buries them under a certain nervous tension. I skip out a few minutes early, not that it matters, I still have to catch the same train.

I get down our street, the same one I’ve lived on for years, and look over the road. The door opens, Ash comes out, red jacket and all, and sees me. She smiles and hurries over.

“Look both ways!” I cry, a little too urgently.

She stops, nods like a sullen teenager, and makes a big show of looking. There aren’t any cars, parked or otherwise. Just the empty road in a quiet suburban neighbourhood.

“You’ll be asking me to eat my greens next,” she comments as she trots over.

“Just… I don’t know. I was worried my dream was prophetic.”

“Prophetic?” She furrows her brow concernedly, but it fades. She can see it’s worrying me. She always can, even if I don’t show it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah…” I say quietly. She starts guiding us to the park. It’s a little ways away, but it’s a good place. Our special place. It was where we first kissed, after all.

We find the bench and sit, old and grimy as it is now. She holds my hand and smiles. I smile back. It was just a dream. Everything is fine. She is fine. All is right with the world.

“I just… I dreamed I lost you,” I explain, knowing how silly I sound.

“Lost as in-”

“You got hit by a car.”

“Oh, brutal! Your imagination is cruel.”

“Yeah,” I helplessly agree. “But you’re here now. And I’m here. And we’re both fine.”

“Right. We’re both here. I’m safe. You’re safe. I’m healthy, and you’re…. Naked!”

I blink in confusion. She looks alarmed and confused. I look down.

I’m naked. Pink bits and skin tones that shouldn’t be exposed. I can feel the cold where there shouldn’t be cold! Ashley is staring.

“What the hell, Maya!” she stands up, offended.

“I… I don’t… I was wearing…” I sputter. No answer is complete. Was I always naked?

“God, what the hell? Do you think this is funny?”

“What? No! I…” I can’t have left the house naked, can I? I can feel myself blushing all over. The park is busy today and people are noticing.

“Did you just forget to get dressed?”

Did I? It seems pretty absent minded. But could I have done? How else could this have happened. But we’re not far from the house…

“Put on some clothes, Maya!”

“What clothes?”

What clothes? The question swirls. An idea surfaces. Stress dream. Naked stress dreams.

Dream checks. Breathing, hands… oh, who am I kidding? My clothes just vanished! I���m dreaming!

I cover myself and make a break for the edge of the park. I’m sure it wasn’t this far to get here, and my steps are strange and sluggish, like running on ice. A man tries to stop me to talk about nothing in particular and politeness almost keeps me there, in strict contrast to my embarrassment. But I run. Ash is with me, half covering me, half judging me. I can feel eyes boring into my nudity.

I make it back to the house with only a few dozen angry eyes sentencing me, and run upstairs to change. Or to get dressed, because there’s nothing to change. And Ash is tutting angrily downstairs.

But I see her photo. I move it aside. There’s the button. Stupid stress dreams! Am I even married?

I press the button.

-

I wake up in my bed. I am still naked, but so is Ash. I’m naked in a normal and acceptable fashion… which is an odd thing to think, but some lingering embarrassment follows me up from the dream.

Dreams? Plural? How many times have I woken up?

I sit up in bed, quiet as I can. The Ballad of Prince Antoine is still on the bedside. I never did get round to reading it, and it would be caked in dust if it weren’t for Ash’s dependable cleaning routine. I pick it up and flip the pages.

It’s blank. No words at all. I’m definitely dreaming.

I consider reaching for the button, but I stop. Ash is beside me, the world of my subconscious outside. Even if this has been a strange session, I can still have some fun. Manners still guide me to not wake Ash, but I head downstairs. I start getting dressed first, but this is a dream. Why bother?

I go downstairs and my house looks more like a library. I think it’s one from a show I watched once. Maybe my memories are in here. I can’t even find the door. Part of me wants to experience walking naked outside, because why not, and suddenly I’m on the street. I can imagine the cold air on my skin, with none of the embarrassment this time around. No one even notices, even as my neighbours greet me. I throw caution to the wind and run full tilt, feeling like I’m flying, bouncing along the way. And why not fly? The ground swoops beneath me. It feels like a rollercoaster, like I'm staying still and the world is moving, like I’m a camera attached to a drone. I don’t fly anywhere in particular, as aiming seems impossible, but I swoop up the street, to the train station, and back again.

I land, forcing myself down, right back on my doorstep. I step inside. Somewhere along the way I’ve apparently picked up clothes. I guess my subconscious isn’t naturally nude. Oh well.

I head in and find Ash preparing a meal. Certainly a dream. I’m the cook in our relationship. Or is it our marriage? Doubts follow that idea, I don’t know if we’re married yet, but it doesn’t matter. She looks so pretty standing there, laying out the…

Is she serving towels on a plate? They’ve got pictures of ice cream on them, but that’s not food. But this is a dream. Nevertheless, I walk up and kiss her, full on the mouth. It’s my dream, damn it, and I’ll enjoy it how I want to.

“Hi there,” she says in surprise when I let her breathe. She has to push my lips away with a  finger to keep talking. “I made dinner.”

“It’ll keep,” I say. I kiss her again. And again. If she’s my wife, and it’s my dream, then why not have some fun.

“You’re certainly excitable-” She says during a gap. My lips cut her off. She gives up trying to talk. She kisses me back. That same thrill, even all these years later.

“I’ve been wanting this all day,” I say, letting her have a moment’s break. I stare into her eyes and see her just as excited as me. I press her against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t you think your husband will mind?” she says seductively. I genuinely don’t know if she’s just roleplaying or if she’s somehow remembering Jeff.

The thought briefly curls in my mind if this is weird. Some people get strangely bitter about dream cheating, their partners having sex dreams about other people. It’s not like they can help it, but some people are weird. Ash has always found the lucid dream thing strange though. But I’m sure she won’t mind this.

Whatever the case, I’m only cheating on her with another her. It’s not a problem.

“Well?” she presses, expecting an answer.

“Don’t worry, babe. It’s not cheating if it’s not real.” I kiss her again.

She pulls back. “What?”

“Just don’t worry about it,” I try to press forward. She pulls out of range.

“What do you mean ‘not real’?”

“It’s just… this is all a dream. Nothing here’s real.”

“And what? Am I not real?” she snaps.

“Well, no. You’re a dream too.”

Ash pushes me back. She looks offended, her face twisting with disgust and anger. I try to comfort her, but she steps away. The kitchen is bigger than it was before to give her room. She rounds on me, furious, teeth gritted and very nearly snarling.

“I am real!” she commands, poking me in the chest. “How dare you say I’m not!”

“But this is all a dream,” I try to explain. A certain dreadful momentum takes hold.

“But I am real! I am real! How could you… How could you think I wasn’t real!”

She advances on me, pushing me back. Shoving me. I bump against the table, almost tripping.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I AM REAL!” she screams, grabbing a plate and throwing it against the wall. Ceramic shards rain. She picks up and throws a chair. At me!

“I AM REAL!”

I retreat, the chair shattering on the wall behind me. We’re back in the library. She’s advancing, murder in her eyes.

“I AM REAL!” she keeps repeating, the same soundbite on a loop.

I run. I find the stairs, her horror movie pace keeping up behind me. She grabs my leg, scratching at me, clawing at my jeans. I slip free of her hands and scrabble upstairs, her cry echoing behind.

I slam the bedroom door shut and stare at the wood. Fists pound against it on the other side. The wood cracks.

“I AM REAL!”

No, you’re not. You’re not Ash. Ash would never…

I shake the thought off. I leap for the picture, throw it aside and press the button.

-

I wake up in my bed. I’m alone, I’m 25 again, I’m not married, and me and Ash are barely dating. But I’m shaking. How many times have I woken up?

I recall a book I read, as well as a Reddit thread, on the subject. Dream characters going strange when you tell them they’re not real. Never believed it myself, but there you go. Almost like they have a will of their own. A life of their own inside your head.

I perform my dream checks. Hands, ten fingers. Breathing, deeply. Ballad of Prince Antoine, still unread. I hesitate as I pick it up, but find the pages full of words, legible words, thankfully. I’m starting to worry the dream checks aren’t working. Perhaps my brain knows too well what to expect.

I shake it off and put the book down. I remember my place in the world. Day off, dating Ash, I live alone. Maybe one day married, but today… I get up and plan to head downstairs to veg on the couch.

My eyes stop on the photo. I try to discern what’s behind it from across the room. But I don’t move it. I don’t dare. I’m awake, I’m sure of it, so I head downstairs.

No morning TV, just some breakfast, cheese on toast. Just an ordinary day-

My phone rings. I answer it.

“Maya! Where are you?” I don’t recognise the voice.

“I’m home?”

“Home?! The shoot starts in ten minutes!”

I stared confusedly at the wall. My only shoot is tomorrow, on the 18th. I take my phone away from my ear as the caller rambles. He’s clearly-

-right. It’s the 18th. Crap!

“Crap! I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Hurry!”

I hang up and sprint upstairs to change. I was sure it was the 17th. Did I sleep for a whole day? I dreamt enough to have lost a day. I’m out the door in under five minutes, running for the bus stop.

It takes me 45 stressful minutes to arrive, but the client is late too. The models and the designers haven’t arrived, only the man who hired me. He’s tapping his foot irritably.

“Sorry,” I pant, having run the last ten yards. “Lost track of what day it was.”

“You’re late, and you were supposed to bring your camera. Where is it?” he snips.

In my photo studio at home, my mind’s eye shows me. I could scream.

“I’m so sorry, I left it at home. It… broke yesterday,” I try desperately to save face. “I was sure you’d have one as well.”

The client looks down his nose at me. He then wordlessly opens a cupboard and produces a camera, a cheap one, and hands it to me like he’s giving scraps to a peasant.

“And your paperwork?” he continues.

“I don’t remember you asking me for any paperwork.”

He sniffs. “The paperwork for the modelling agency. I cannot believe this,” he huffs.

I scour my brain. Paperwork, papers, anything I had to sign, anything-

“Oh!” my brain finds the file. “The nondisclosure stuff. I signed that last week.”

“Oh. Good,” he says with an edge of disappointment. Jerk.

I finally get to sit down and let my heartrate drop. I’m sweating, didn’t have time to shower, likely look a mess, and now my brain is thrumming with anxiety, searching every thought for something else I forgot. It’s like one of those accursed anxiety dreams where you’re late for class or…

No. I am awake. I know it. I do my dream checks just to be safe, and everything checks out. I try to check my phone, wanting to read the messages, before realising I forgot that too when I got changed. All I brought was my clothes and my purse and… My purse is at home too.

How did I pay for the bus? I can’t remember. I may have accidentally stolen a bus ride.

It’s going to be a long walk home.

The photoshoot goes alright. The camera isn’t great, but I’m getting paid either way. The client hates me, obviously, but I fulfil my contract. And so I hand over the camera and head into town.

And Ash’s office is nearby here. Her real estate- No. She doesn’t work in real estate. She works in… a call centre or something? I should know this. All I know is her bosses are annoying and strict.

I decide to hang out near her building, which does look like a call centre. As noon rolls around, she emerges with some coworkers and I beg her to give me a lift home. She kisses me, provoking some cooing from her coworkers, and quickly takes me home before hurrying back after her lunch break.

I lie, vegetating on the couch, trying to unpack the panic of the day. I’ve checked about five times that it actually is the 18th. I can’t remember yesterday. Then again, if I just vegged out, maybe there was nothing to remember.

Finally, my phone buzzes which means Ash is out of work. She’s waiting at the park, our special place, or at least it’s rapidly becoming so. Our bench is clean, with a couple of bits of graffiti. Perhaps I should add our names in a heart?

“You are messy,” she greets me.

“I don’t know what happened. I thought it was the 17th today.”

“Messy, is all I’m saying,” she affirms.

“Did I see you yesterday?”

She thinks to be sure. “No. I was at work all day, and then I was at my mother’s in the evening. You don’t remember?”

“I feel like I’ve lost a whole day.”

“I think you were online yesterday… Yeah, look. Instagram posts.” She holds up her phone.

There’s a selfie of me eating a bland lunch. I don’t look happy. I sort of remember that.

“Huh. Must have just bored myself senseless.”

“Then there’s a photo of you taking a nap. That might explain it, you and that daft lucid dreaming stuff..."

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with it.” I sound certain but I don’t feel certain. Not anymore.

“Just don’t do it when we start sharing a bed. Creeps me out.”

“Sharing a bed, hey?”

Ash rolls her eyes. “Soon, I mean it. I don’t want to rush things. And my room’s a mess with all that decorating.”

“My room’s closer.”

“Sure, but I’d like to be able to see the floor, not just a layer of abandoned clothes. Messy,” she repeats.

“I’ve tidied up.”

“No you have not!”

“I have. Seriously. There’s only a few socks currently.”

“My hero…” She trails off, looking over my shoulder.

“They’re only from the past few days too.”

“Yeah,” she says distractedly. “Is that guy watching us?”

I turn. Near a tree is a man in a trench coat. Rarely a good sign.

“It’s not your stalker ex, is it?” she murmurs.

“Don’t think so. I hope it’s not a flasher. How long’s he been there?”

“A few minutes. I think we should go.”

I silently agree and we start walking. And so does he.

We walk faster, deciding to take the longer road home. It’s longer, but it’s also far more public. But unfortunately quiet today. The man is still following. His hand is in his pocket. His eyes won’t leave us. Our walk becomes a light jog, and his following becomes a chase. We round a corner back onto our street and break into a run. He starts pursuing. His hand comes out of his pocket. He’s got a butcher’s knife.

“Ash, run!”

We run. We reach the door and slam it shut behind us, locking it. He hits the door on the other side, knife through the frosted glass. He stabs and carves the glass, mad eyes staring through the gaps.

I try to think of weapons. Ash is already on the phone to the police. The lunatic gets his arm through a gap in the glass, scratching up his own arm in the process.

And we’ve left the keys in the lock.

He turns them and throws the door wide. I drag Ash to the stairs. The bedroom door has a lock and a window we can jump out of as a last resort. I push Ash ahead, and the knife goes into the wall by my leg. I spin and land a heel on his chin. Part of his face comes away like a mask. I resume running as he reaffixes it.

In, slam the bedroom door, click the lock. It’s wood and won’t hold against a madman for long. Ash is crying, desperate and terrified, still on the phone to the cops. I’m searching my room for weapons. Anything! Why do I not have anything!

Wood creaks as the man slams against it. I decide to get creative. I pull out some drawers, empty them, and raise the wooden box as the only weapon I’ve got. Ash picks up a folding chair, a bit unwieldy in my small room.

The door creaks and cracks. Even now, the photo on the wall nags at me. Maybe it’s-

The door gives way! The man surges in, knife raised, and Ash throws her chair. It barely clips him, but that’s still a full force clip to the head. He falls, mask shifting. He rises, or possibly she, there’s a certain curve to the hips, dizzy and swaying, as the mask falls off completely. And the face…

“I AM REAL!” Ash’s face emerges from the mask, screaming, knife still in her hand.

My Ash looks at herself in strange terror, and I stare at both of them. The intruder Ash lunges, but my Ash fights her, wrestling herself, begging for help. I slam the drawer into the Nightmare Ash’s back and she crumples, but she rises back quickly, still screaming. I need to save my Ash. The real Ash.

But does it matter?

I stare at Ash, my Ash, the real Ash. She has to be the real Ash. But am I real? Am I awake? Ash stares at me with pleading eyes… But the photo… This can’t be real. I turn and I lunge for it.

I press the button.

-

I wake up in my bed.

This is bullshit! I get up and scream at the ceiling. That was real, I was sure that was real! What the fuck is going on!

No waiting this time. I throw the photo aside and there it is. The button. I’m still fucking dreaming!

I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed. Fucking hell!

I move the photo. I see the button.

I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed.

I move the photo. I see the FUCKING button.

I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed.

I move the photo. I-

The wall is blank. No sticker, no button, no nothing.

I… I don’t know what this means.

I press the wall, just in case, but nothing happens. I have to still be dreaming, right, because there should be a sticker there? Did I remove it?

I decide to get up and head downstairs. This time the dream isn’t even pretending. The dog and my Mum are back in the kitchen, Jeff is watching TV, and there are clocks and eyes everywhere telling me I’m late. There are also photos of Ash on every wall, the same photo, again and again. I move one just to check. There’s an eye behind it. I move another. There’s another photo behind it. I move a third. A red sticker. I briefly feel excited, before realising it's not a button. Just a sticker.

I decide to head out.

I step out onto my childhood street, which shouldn’t be here, but I can still see the property Real-Estate Ash sold across the road. There’s even a couple of ambulance men tending to nothing in particular. I start to worry that I’ve broken my brain or something.

I walk up and, of course, the park appears around the bend. And there’s Ash, an Ash anyway, I have no idea which one. But any Ash is good… as long as it’s not the nightmare one. Or the dead one. I shake off that memory and sit beside her.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time, but I can’t keep pretending. Things are different now. You know, after that party a few weeks ago… when we almost…”

“Oh… It’s this memory.”

“I’m saying… I really did want to, that night, and it wasn’t just the beer talking. I wanted to kiss you. I… like you, Maya. Like, a lot. I really like you.”

“I really like you two, Ash. I love you. But I’m supposed to set you up to say-”

“Yes!” she exclaims, punching me in the arm. “Oh my god, as if it weren’t obvious. I’ve been staring at you ever since.”

“You were so obvious about it too.”

“And you’ve been freaking flirting with me-

“I was not subtle either.”

“Just… I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re my best friend, May.”

“You too. God, does it make me a bad friend the amount of times I’ve dreamt about us sleeping together?”

“More intimate?”

“I keep dreaming about you. It’s no coincidence we keep ending up naked in my subconscious.”

Ashley’s eyes widen. I’m barely tracking her side of the conversation anymore.

“I’d… I’d like that.”

“You’re so beautiful, Ash. And brilliant. And-”

“Kiss me. Right now.”

Her hand grabs my chin, spins my head, and her ruby painted lips plant against my beige ones. Softness, gentleness, a thrill like lightning down my spine.

And then she pulls away. Her phone buzzes. I really do still curse that phone sometimes. She leaves.

And then she’s back beside me.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

This is odd. Definitely odd. I look around while Ash keeps talking, rambling as if nothing is wrong. I examine the park surrounding us to see if anything else is going on.

“Yes!” she exclaims, punching me in the arm. I briefly return my focus to her before going back to my search.

What the hell is going on?

“More intimate?”

I look over and spy something. It looks like a spot, hanging in the air. A red circle.

“I’d… I’d like that.”

Is that…?

“Kiss me. Right now.”

She grabs my chin, spins my head, and her ruby painted lips plant against my beige ones. I am briefly distracted from what seemed to be a floating button.

And then she pulls away. Her phone buzzes. She leaves.

And then she’s back beside me.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

I get up and walk over to the button. There it is, floating in midair, sticking out of a patch of my bedroom wall. There’s no wall around it, just a square floating at about head height. I look back at Ash, chatting away to the air on the bench.

“Yes!” she exclaims, punching nothing.

I press the button.

-

I wake up… I’m back on the bench.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

I look around. There’s the button again. I sprint and press it.

-

I wake… and I’m back on the bench. Shit!

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

I stand and run over to the button. Why isn’t this working?! It’s always worked before… before today anyway. It’s always been… my exit.

The button is blank. It should say Exit in neat little white letters. I can’t remember if it was blank in the other dreams. I don’t remember noticing, but I also wasn’t really paying attention. Maybe that’s what went wrong. The text is gone. It isn’t an exit anymore.

“Just… I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re my best friend, May.”

But that’s what I need now. I need an exit. I need to get out. I need… A pen. I think and think and… Ash always carries one.

I hurry over, even as Ash keeps talking.

“I’d… I’d like that.”

She reaches forwards and kisses the air, as I root through her pockets. And there it is. A pen. I run back to the button as she starts again.

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

I take off the pen cap and, carefully to avoid pressing it, write the word Exit on the button. It’s crude, but it’s dream logic. It just might work. With a final pen stroke, I press it.

-

I wake up in my bed. I roll over and immediately throw the photo aside and…

A red sticker.

I gasp with desperate relief. I flop back onto my bed. At last! I grab my phone and check the date, just to be sure. It’s the 17th, I’m not late for anything, and I am awake!

…at least I hope I’m awake.

I dismiss that thought. All the dream checks check out. I’m awake. I’m sure of it… but I was sure of it a few dreams ago too. I pinch myself, hard, and it hurts. At least I think it does. Would you actually know in a dream?

I shake off that thought. I might be going mad, I’m sure of that. All these dreams are driving me mad. I need to get away from sleeping. I get out of bed and go have breakfast. Cheese on toast. It’s all I’ve got in.

Around noon, I get a text.

Power outage at work. They sent us all home. Meet you in the park?

I’m up and properly dressed soon enough, heading out. It’s cold, so I’m wearing a scarf and a jacket. And Ash is waiting for me with two coffees and a big smile.

“You look great,” I say. It’s her usual outfit, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

“And you look… Actually, you look awful. What’s up?” She offers a coffee.

I drink it, hot and strong. And it’ll keep me awake, which is a plus.

“I think I had the worst night’s sleep ever,” I explain.

“How so?”

“I just kept waking up. Like, dreaming that I was waking up. Again and again and again. Levels upon levels of dreams and nightmares. And… you were there. All the time.”

“Me? In a good way?” She sips her coffee.

“Sometimes, yes. We were always together,” I reassure her. “In some of them we were even married.”

“Really?” she says cheerfully. “Didn’t know you were the commitment sort.”

“I’ve made that mistake before,” I chuckle. “But this dream was nuts. I just kept waking up again and again and… sometimes things happened to you. And sometimes I just realised I was dreaming and had to wake up. But I couldn’t. It was messed up.”

She leans against me, head on my shoulder. “I’ve warned you about that lucid dreaming stuff. Messes with your head. Lose your grip on reality.”

I smile. “One of your other selves said that too.”

“Well, listen to her. Sleep is just for your brain to process things. Leave it well enough alone.”

“Maybe. Maybe there’s a way to unlearn it.”

“You’d better hope so. You’re not doing your dream walking when we share a bed.”

“Your other self said that too.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I pointed out the allusion to us sharing a bed… and then she said she wouldn’t stay around mine because of the dirty floors.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“I have tidied up though!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“And when will you see it?”

She turns her head and quirks an eyebrow. “Are you asking?”

I go to answer. I want to say yes, oh do I want to say yes, but even so… “Maybe not tonight. Let me get my head together.”

She sits up. “That dream really messed you up?”

“Dreams. I lost track of how many.”

She looks worried. She wears her heart on her sleeves. “Maybe we can just go back to yours and watch some TV. Get your mind off it all.”

“Yeah, that sounds-” I pause. Ash is looking over my shoulder. Fixedly.

A terrible sense of déjà vu creeps over me.

“Is that guy watching us, May? It’s not your creepy ex, is it?”

I turn around. A man in a trench coat. I stand and drag Ash away from the bench. “We should go.”

The man follows. But not running. And it isn’t a man.

“What’s your problem?!” Ash stops to confront them. They’ve got a hood up but they’re definitely a woman. And that coat. I think I knew someone who owned a trench like that.

“What are you two doing?” the voyeur asks. Her voice is familiar.

“I’m sorry, do we need permission to sit on a bench?” Ash challenges. Her voice is the same.

“Perhaps, if you’re sitting with my wife.” The hood comes down.

Oh no.

Ash appears beneath the hood. Older, slightly, and hand adorned with a wedding ring. Girlfriend Ash doesn’t seem to notice. She’s just affronted by the accusation.

“Wife! She’s my girlfriend, lady. I don’t know what asylum you escaped from, but-”

“Maya?” another voice joins. “Who are these women?”

Both Ashes turn. Another Ash is running into the park. She’s wearing the same outfit from the day we first kissed.

“I…” I can’t even answer. The two other Ashes both huff.

“Stay away from my girlfriend!/wife!” they say in unison.

“Girlfriend?” First Kiss Ash turns her eyes on me. She looks hurt. “You have a girlfriend?”

“No!” I frantically explain. “It’s not like that.” That just angers the others.

“Oh, and what am I?” Wife Ash demands.

“Are you just picking up floozies?” Girlfriend Ash concurs.

First Kiss Ash comes up and pokes me in the chest. “Then who are they?”

My brain is spinning. My mouth flaps soundlessly. First Kiss Ash rounds on the other two.

The resultant argument is lost on me. Three voices, all identical, all seemingly unaware that they’re the same person. But I’m still dreaming. I have to be. There’s no way this is real!

“Maya?” another voice joins the conversation.

“Oh no…”

There’s another Ash with tears streaming down her face. “How… how did you get away from that lunatic?”

“I…”

“And who are they?” Without a word, she joins the growing argument.

“Maya?”

Another Ash and this one… This one is naked. Or as naked as my imagination can create. She’s like a Barbie doll, smooth areas, all the same shade of brown. She sees the crowd and sprints into it, creating a ripple of distress from the others.

Another few Ashes sprint into the park, Real Estate Ash, Nightmare Ash, all joining the gathering throng. I step away, my brain screaming, unable to cope. I can even see the Ash in the crowd who keeps looping!

And then someone throws a punch.

The argument clearly hits a critical mass, as Wife Ash punches First Kiss Ash and Girlfriend Ash gets someone in a headlock. Shouting, screaming, there’s even some biting. It turns into a mass of flailing limbs, bruises, fists, all merging into one. Merging and melting.

A hand hits a chest and sinks into it like melting plastic. An Ash in a headlock winds up merging with the arm locking her. One Ash goes to headbutt another and winds up combining their foreheads into a hideous mass. They keep fighting, seemingly unaware, morphing into a morass of flesh and clothes. Skin sluices between them, bones and ribs protruding where skin moves away. Strands of muscle combine and intertwine.

I watch in morbid terror as the thing takes some sort of shape.

An amalgam of legs, legs made out of smaller legs, keep it aloft. The torso is vaguely humanoid, but about ten times larger, with ribs and random clothes jutting through the skin. There are nine arms, two made up of smaller arms like the legs. And there are five heads, each twitching out of the lumpen shoulders, Wife Ash, Tearful Ash, and three others that just look identical. Two of them are speaking.

“I AM REAL!”

“I know we’ve known each other a long time-”

The central one twitches and looks down. It’s eyes are missing, lost somewhere in the mass of organic horror.

“Maya? Who are these women?” it says with a mouth full of tongues.

My heart is pounding. My skin’s cold as ice. I’m aware that I should be vomiting, I feel like I should be, if I were conscious. But I’m not. I’ve got no stomach to vomit with!

“Kiss me. Right now,” it says. It reaches for me.

I try to run but it’s too fast. A massive limb with far too many fingers grabs my wrist, pulling me in. Into its arm! Ash’s flesh melts around my wrist, my arm dissolving into it. I fall back, flailing, trying to wrench myself free. My other hand grabs something hard. I bring the rock round like a hammer and smash both our wrists.

Hers explodes like molten clay, splattering over the ground. I feel nothing, but it looks like I’ve shattered my bones. But it doesn’t matter. I get up and run. Vast, squelching footsteps follow, a cacophony of voices echoing after me.

“-it wasn’t just the beer talking.”

“I AM REAL!”

I run and reach the road. There are ambulance men. A new Ash hobbles over the sidewalk, neck and head dangling, blood and bones protruding. I ignore it and run.

I hit my front door and launch myself inside. I stop briefly on the stairs, morbid curiosity wondering what it will do. An arm of arms smashes in and then melts, flowing across the floor after me. I abandon my curiosity and slam my bedroom door. The mass hits the other side. There are faces at my window.

“WAKE UP, MAYA!” the heads scream.

I throw the photo aside. There’s the button.

The words “Wake Up!” are carved into the plastic in white lettering.

I hit the button.

-

I wake up in my bed. I sit up and scream.

I’m alone. I’m 25, I think. I throw the photo aside and see a sticker, but that’s no comfort anymore. I run to the window and look out and it’s the street I’m expecting to see. But doesn’t that just sum it up. It’s what I’m expecting to see.

Even as futile as they seem, I perform my dream checks. Prince Antoine, the right number of hands and fingers, definitely breathing, I’m panting for breath actually. I head downstairs.

Everything is normal. No Mum, no dog, no Jeff. No library of memories, no Ash making me a dinner of towels. Just… my house. I check my phone and it’s the 17th. I check my calendar and my only job is tomorrow. My finger hovers over the button to text Ash, but I don’t know if I can handle that right now.

The image of flesh flowing up the stairs behind me… Oh god! My stomach turns.

I run to the bathroom and throw my head into the toilet bowl. My stomach wrenches, not that it has much to throw up. I wind up dry heaving into the porcelain.

I couldn’t vomit in the last dream. Is that a good sign?

Finally, my stomach settles. Barely. I’m sat on the tiled floor, ready for anything to set me off again. Maybe I have a fever or something. That would explain the hellish dreams. I check my forehead, but I don’t think I’m running a temperature. Did I eat anything that would have upset my stomach last night?

Cheese on toast for dinner… and lunch. I really need to go shopping. Was it just a fucking cheese dream?

I get up and cautiously migrate to the couch, weighing up if I’m going to need a bowl or anything. My stomach is settling, but I still try to avoid thinking about… that.

The TV distracts me. I remember Ash advising it in the last dream, but I stop thinking about that, quite by force. I smack myself gently in the temple to distract myself. And it hurts, I think. Is that a good sign?

Noon comes around and there’s no text about a power outage. Another good sign? The day crawls by, me unable to do anything. My sickness stopped hours ago, but the thoughts are unrelenting. Prising apart the dreams, like peeling layers off a horrid Pass the Parcel. How many times did I wake up? How many times did I kiss her? How many times did she die?

What does it all mean?

Finally, five o’clock rolls around. I haven’t eaten all day, but I don’t want to. Ash texts me and asks if I want to meet at the park. I say I’m not feeling well.

A short while later, there’s a knock at the door. I get up to answer it.

“I brought soup?” Ash offers, bargaining to gain entry.

I smile. Despite everything, I smile. She’s amazing.

“What kind?” I ask as I let her in.

“Chicken, of course. That’s what you give sick people. What’s wrong anyway? You look dreadful.”

“Not sure,” I answer, fairly honestly. “Terrible night’s sleep. Just… nightmares.”

“Oh no!” She joins me on the couch. “Have you eaten today?”

I shake my head. She smiles sadly. I remember that smile melting off a dreadful face.

“Tell you what, I’ll heat this soup up, we can get some food in you, and we’ll spend the evening watching movies. Whichever ones you want. Even the scary ones,” she says with a hint of trepidation.

“I… couldn’t handle those tonight,” I reassure her. “I’m so tired, but I do not want to sleep.”

“Then let’s do something else. I’ll go and get your blanket and we can snuggle up on the couch. But first, soup.”

Ash hurries off to the kitchen to throw the soup into the microwave, and as it turns, heads upstairs to retrieve the blanket. I am soon huddled in the warm duvet, and Ash returns with two bowls and something tucked under her arm. She puts the item to one side while we eat, watching some bland noisome television, but the soup is good. Warm and restorative. It’s dark outside now and she is cuddled up beside me. And I am at home. Happy. Warm. Fed. In love. With her. And it’s almost been a whole day. I still don’t want to sleep, but maybe if she were beside me...

"Did you want to watch a movie?" Ash asks, her head on my shoulder.

I consider it, but no. “Not right now. But we should see what else is on. I’ve seen this episode a hundred times.”

“I was thinking,” she says in a leading way, “I did loan you that book ages ago. Have you read it yet?”

“The Ballad of Prince Antoine?” I say. My stomach tightens.

“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s almost poetry and that could be quite… romantic.”

She retrieves the book from where she tucked it away, dropping it in my lap. My heart skips.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know if its my sort of thing.”

She tugs at my arm. “How will you know if you don’t read it? And besides, it’s always good to broaden one’s horizons.

“Are you sure you couldn’t read it to me?” I dodge.

She narrows her eyes. She can always see my nerves. She leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

“It’ll be fine, Maya. Just read it. If you’re not enjoying it, we’ll stop.”

I stop and breathe. I feel nauseous again. And then I wonder what she’s thinking, me, scared of a book. I’m a professional photographer, I shouldn’t be scared to read aloud to my girlfriend.

“Alright,” I sigh. I crack the spine. I open the first page.

“The Ballad of Prince Antoine, by Simon Morpheus. Published by-”

“I think you can skip that bit.”

I nod. I turn the page. “Chapter One. Once upon a time, there was a very handsome man. His name was Prince Antoine.” I pause to look at her. “Do you really think I’ll enjoy this?”

“It gets better in a minute.” She snuggles closer.

I roll my eyes. “Prince Antoine was a kind and wonderful man, whose father ruled the kingdom kindly and fairly. But one day, a sorcerer arrived in the land, a man of wicked intent and dark magic- Are you serious about liking this book?” I interrupt.

“It was my favourite book as a kid,” she pouts. “Didn’t I tell you it was a kid’s book?”

“No, you didn’t. I was expecting a… classical romance or something.”

“Do you like classical romances?”

“No, it would have bored me to tears. But you seemed interested in it, so…”

“That’s sweet,” she snuggles in again. “Come on, keep reading. And poke me if I nod off.”

“Will do.” I clear my throat. “-wicked intent and dark magic. He walked up to the castle gates and demanded ‘Wake up the king. Wake up King Maya so I may speak with... King Maya?” I ask.

“It’s part of why I wanted you to read it,” she shrugs.

“Odd name for a king.” I clear my throat again. “‘Wake up King Maya so I may speak with him.’ ‘Nay,’ said the guards, and with a wave of his hand the wizard turned them into frogs. Ha! I’m liking this guy already.”

“My dad always used to boo when he read the evil wizard’s bits.”

“I can see why. Anyway- Next he approached the guards at the castle door. ‘Awaken King Maya’ he demanded. ‘Wake up Maya now!’ But the guards asked why? He would not answer, and turned them into newts. Huh. Guys working his way through the amphibians.”

“He does an axolotl next.”

“Seriously? Seems advanced for a kid’s book?”

“Read on and find out.”

I look doubtful but read on. “Ahem… He then approached the guards within. ‘Wake up, Maya! Wake them up now!’ but the guards brandished their arms and were turned into mice. Finally, Prince Antoine arrived, facing the villain. ‘What do you want?’ the prince demanded. ‘Wake up, Maya!’ the wizard roared.

I turn the page.

WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA WAKE UP MAYA-

I leap from the blankets. I scream. I throw the book into the mirror over the mantle as Ash looks on in terrified confusion.

I wake up in my bed, slow and sluggish, eyes blurry and sleepy. That’s until the adrenaline hits. I bolt upright, heart racing, very nearly sweating and-

“Maya? What’s wrong?” Ash bolts upright beside me, gripping the blanket to her bosom. She turns on the bedside light.

“I had… a terrible dream,” I gasp and… this is my room, but it seems different.

“What kind of dream?”

“It was…” I look around. Dream checks, I reach for Prince Antoine and… It’s not there.

“Are you alright?”

The room is different. I never had a bedside light, for one thing. And we’re in bed together.

“This might be a mad question,” I hazard, “but are we married?”

She stares at me. She stares longer. She realises I’m not joking and shakes her head.

“No, we’re not. You’re just my girlfriend.”

“So we are a couple?”

“Well, we moved in together three months ago, and we had sex last night, so I’d hope we were some kind of couple, Maya,” she says sarcastically. “You’re definitely my girlfriend, Maya, but no, we’re not married. Not yet anyway. Are you sure you’re alright?”

I stare. This one’s different. “Sorry. It’s just… in my dream we were married.”

“Really? Didn’t know you were the sort,�� she says somewhat happily. “Well, we’re not married yet. Not unless you’re planning on getting down on one knee right this second.” She looks at me and her brow creases with worry. “Seriously, May, are you alright?” She cups my cheek.

“It was just… just a really messed up dream.”

“A messed up dream where we’re married?” she checks. “I hope you’re not getting cold feet about living together.”

“What?”

“Commitment issues. I wouldn’t be shocked. I mean, I know how your past relationships ended.”

“Hey! Those were not my fault. I did not force Tabitha into that strippers underwear! Or Sarah to break into my house!”

Ash raises her hands in surrender. She gets up and throws on a bathrobe. She looks back at me, as I’m staring at the wall.

“May? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

I look up at her. Gorgeous, wonderful her. This one feels different. Maybe finally…

“It was just a dream,” I reassure her. She nods in vague acceptance.

“You know what it is? It’s that lucid dreaming stuff you do,” she concludes. “Making you lose touch with reality.”

I nod. I can’t say she’s wrong.

“Maybe you should consider seeing a doctor about it. A dream therapist or something. Get your head right.” She breathes and shakes her head. “Anyway, we’re up now, and it’s a few hours before work. I’m going to go make some coffee. You want some?”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

I breathe at the edge of the bed. I count my fingers. I find a book and read it. I pinch my hand hard, and it hurts. It really hurts. But did it hurt last time?

I can hear Ash downstairs. This one feels different. Actually awake. I feel tired.

And this is a good life, right? Memory comes trickling back from sleep and tells me I’m right. Living with my girlfriend, my love. This is a great life.

And much better than what could come next.

But I am awake. I know it. This one feels different and my pinches hurt. And Ash is waiting downstairs.

But even so, I stare.

I stare at the photo, hanging on the wall. The photo of Ash.

And I try and spot what could be behind it.

[apalestar]

What's a difference in dynamic between being a good/best friend of Astarion's vs being his lover or partner?

Random Anon

I'll try to dissect as best as I can. There are difference between pre-Cazador killed and post game. Then there is the nuance of Ascended vs Spawn. Content below the cut because this is long.

Pre-Cazador death.

Being his partner means he harbors a lot more fear. He will finally have something that can be used against him or taken from him. So his need to acquire power is amplified. He would want power not just for himself, but to protect his partner. At his core Astarion is terrified and seeking safety however he can. Power equates safety in his mind. That's all he's known for 200 years. The powerful subjugate the powerless. And he feels quite powerless compared to Cazador.

A good/best friend doesn't illicit this kind of fear out of him. He can more easily discard or play it off if the need arises. Ironically, this also means a good friend is going to have a much easier time convincing him not to do the ritual. Because he isn't thinking out of a place of fear for two as it were. Whilst a partner is going to need to know him really well and recognize his tells to convince him not to ascend.

A lover or a partner he's fearful at this stage that he's gonna fuck this one good thing in his life up. That he might be too complicated with too many problems to be worth someone's time. He's used to having his safety snatched away. And he sees safety in any partner he takes on.

Post Cazador Spawn Route

Astarion will view his partner as an equal. Their trust and loyalty to him for however long they will have him isn't in question. He doesn't feel powerless anymore. He isn't terrified of the shadows taking his partner from him. He wants to confide in them more. He wants to heal himself with that person by his side. He wants to replace his horrible memories of being touched by so many by the one or two he cherishes. ( Yes, I think he is genuinely into poly. Bite me. )

A partner won't have to ask to hug or kiss him, but he appreciates it anyway. He is always open to that affection from them.

A friend will be considered a partner in crime aspect. He won't be as willing to let them touch him even for a hug without asking first. There is still immense trust there. Regarding them as someone to count on even if there is distance between them. I don't think he's confiding much about recovering from his sexual trauma as a slave, but I do think he will confide about his recovery of exercising his will as a free man. Happy to detail his life and catch up.

Post Cazador Ascended Route

The ritual will have twisted and perverted him to his most neutral evil nature. By going through it, he's accepted only power will be heeded. Only power will keep him safe. A partner at this stage is an obsession. That fear of needing to protect them from the shadows hasn't gone away. His enemies will use them to exploit him. He will protect them all right. At the price of his partner's own freedom. A short leash and insecurely possessive of them.

Love is little more than obsession to the Ascended. His partner is not his equal. They are beneath him.

A friend in this route can be one of two things: A potential rival to dealt with eventually. A potential resource to use for his benefit. He is more concerned with power. Sure you might get a beneficial arrangement out of him, but only if there is benefit to him. It's a vicious game of give and take. He's reverted to taking on all his horrible traits from Act I with few if any of his more palatable ones.