#buckle up folks daily sets from here on out

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2023 EDITION) ↘ D-12 | through the eras: GO LIVE

[ctrl-alt-em]

In the Throat

It was nearing evening when the posse stumbled into the saloon. They were already tired from their train ride and needed to rest up for the ride tomorrow as they hunted their latest bounty, a traveling snake oil salesman that peddled more poisons than placebos.

The town was a decent size for one that existed solely for the railroad. The saloon was busy. A saloon gal walked around offering drinks, the pianist played a popular tune, and a pair of ladies of the night hung around in the far back corner. A couple of railway workers sat at the bar. A large group of cowboys fresh from the road took up several tables off to the side.

Silas took it all in as he headed straight for the barkeep. “Evenin’, I’m gonna need two rooms for the night.” He gestured behind him, “One for the ladies and another for the old man, boy, and I.”

The bartender set down the glass he was cleaning, “Sure thing, sir, it’ll be two dollars for each room. Are you just staying for tonight?”

“That’s right, we’ll be heading out first thing in the morning,” answered Silas. He leaned on the bar as the bartender grabbed two keys from the board behind him. Silas handed the man the bills and took the keys with a nod. “Much obliged.”

Silas returned to the group who had taken up a table not far from the bar and tossed Garnet the other key. “We’re all set. How about some drinks?”

As Silas sat down, one of the cowboys behind him stood up on his chair.

“To Rex Randall!” yelled the young man, holding his drink high.

The rest of the group raised their glasses. “To Rex Randall!”

Garnet leaned towards her posse, “Did he just say what I think he said?”

Edie nodded, “I think he did.”

Delacy looked between the women with wide eyes.

Silas furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with that?”

Nate waved over one of the young men as he was walking away from the bar with a tray covered with glasses of whiskey. “Pardon me, did he say Rex Randall?”

“‘Course!” The young man had clearly already had a few drinks. He held out the serving tray. “And tonight we drink to him. Here, take a drink, all of you, even you kid.” He handed a glass to Edie and Garnet with a wink. Silas, Nate, and Delacy took their own. Delacy grimaced.

“Well, you gentlemen sure do know how to treat a lady,” laughed Edie politely.

Silas raised his drink and took a swig. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.

The young man in a tan shirt and bold belt buckle leaned forward. “You do know who Rex Randall is, right?”

“I-“ began Delacy. Edie grabbed his shoulder quickly.

“Of course. He’s a famous star,” said Edie with a saccharine smile. “I do so enjoy his performances.”

Silas nodded, “I’ve listened to his shows for ages.” He turned to face his posse, “I’ve always wanted to meet Rex Randall. I heard his radio show almost daily back at my old sheriff’s office.”

Edie gave him an awkward smile. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan, Silas.”

“Well listen to this.” The man leaned down further. “Rex Randall was killed in a duel.”

“What? No!” said Silas, shocked.

“I can’t believe it either,” said Garnet tightly, looking pointedly at Delacy.

“Yeah! He went to this- this shithole town and he was gonna kill this bastard, whatever the fuck his name was, that gets off on killing folk.” The man stumbled a bit. He held onto the back of Edie’s chair to keep himself standing. “The man was fucked up. There was a tour- tourn- uh, a contest. People killed each other just to have a chance to kill him.”

“And Rex was killed dueling this man?” asked Silas, enthralled by the story. From the corner of his eye, he saw Garnet and Edie exchange looks. Nate whispered something to Delacy.

“No, he actually gets killed by some kid! He walks into town with his grandpa and aunt or whatever and enters the contest. Then the kid just walks up and whips out his gun and shoots Rex dead!” The man stepped backwards and tossed his arms up for emphasis. The remaining whiskey glasses on the plate were knocked over. A puddle of whiskey was at his feet.

“Goddammit,” he muttered at the mess. The cowboy turned away from the posse and headed back to the bar.

Silas watched the cowboy stumble away. Something seemed off.

“So,” Silas took another sip and gestured toward the rest of his group with the glass, “Any of you know anything about that?”

“About what?” Asked Delacy a little too quickly.

Silas gave the boy a stern look. “About a kid shooting Rex Randall?”

Delacy looks at Garnet, Nate, and Edie before looking back at Silas. In a quiet voice, he said, “Nate and I entered a quick draw contest in Dead Man’s Worth to kill Bellows. I faced Rex in the first round.” Delacy leaned towards Silas and whispered proudly, “I shot him in the throat.”

Silas dragged his hand over his face and groaned. “At least it was justified this time.” Silas leaned on his elbows, “Delacy, don’t go repeating that. This crowd’s not gonna be happy if someone overhears you.”

Delacy nodded. “Got it, Silas.”

Silas tossed back another mouthful of whiskey. The crowd began singing a mourning song in memory of Rex.

“I think it might be time for us all to call it a night,” said Garnet, nodding towards the crowd. The other four agreed and made their way to the upstairs lodging.

In the guys’ room, Silas and Delacy each took one of the twin beds. Nate was more than willing to lay on the floor. He, being technically a corpse, didn’t get back pain.

Silas was almost asleep when Delacy whispered, “Silas?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Are you mad at me?”

Silas cracked open an eye, “What for?”

He heard Delacy fidget in his bed. “For, you know, killing Rex Randall.”

Silas sat up a little and leaned on his left arm, facing Delacy despite the darkness.

“It was you or him, right?”

“Huh?”

“The duel,” Silas specified, “Rex was shooting to kill, wasn’t he?”

Delacy nodded, “Yeah.”

“Then you did what you needed to do. Randall knew what he signed up for when he entered the contest. Only one of you was walking away and, I will say, I’m glad it was you.”

Delacy was quiet for a moment. “You mean that, Silas?”

“I do, Delacy. You’re a mighty fine marksman with your heart in the right place, usually. You can be a pain and you should think more before you act, but I’m glad to have you around. Randall, as much as I liked his shows, was just some celebrity. ‘Sides, just think of how devastated Nate would be if he survived and you didn’t.”

“I don’t even want to imagine it,” came Nate’s gravelly voice from the floor next to him.

Silas jumped a little. “God, I forgot you don’t sleep anymore.”

Delacy muffled his laugh. Silas smiled.

“So no, I’m not mad at you.” He laid back down. “Night, Delacy.”

“Good night, Silas.”

[vrankup]

Google Ads Unleashed: Your Ultimate Guide to Dominating Online Advertising

Hey there, savvy marketers and business enthusiasts it's your digital marketing agency in dwarka, vrankup! In this fast-paced digital universe, where attention spans are shorter than ever, cracking the code to successful online advertising is like finding the golden ticket. And guess what? Google Ads is your golden ticket! So, buckle up as we take you on a whirlwind tour of the Google Ads wonderland and show you how to conquer the online advertising game like a true boss.

**Google Ads in a Nutshell**

Picture this: Google Ads is like a magical marketplace where businesses can strut their stuff through ads displayed on Google's search results and a bunch of partner websites and apps. And guess what? You only pay when someone clicks on your ad – it's the "pay-per-click" groove.

**Why Google Ads Rocks Your World**

1. **Laser-Sharp Targeting:** Google Ads has this superpower that lets you aim your ads right at the bullseye. You can target peeps based on stuff like keywords, location, age, interests, and more. It's like hitting the jackpot of your ideal customers!

2. **Insta-Visibility:** Ever played hide and seek with organic SEO? Yeah, it can take ages to see results. But with Google Ads, you’re like the star of the show from the get-go. Once your campaign is a go, your ads start popping up on those search results like a pro.

3. **Budget Jedi:** Imagine having the force to control your spending. With Google Ads, you wield that power. Set your budget, whether it's daily or monthly, and avoid those budget blues.

4. **Results You Can Measure:** We're living in the era of data, folks. Google Ads gives you the goods – metrics like clicks, impressions, click-through rates, and conversions – all neatly laid out for you. It's like watching your business grow in real time.

5. **Ad Wonderland:** Get creative with your ads! You've got options galore – text ads, flashy display ads, engaging video ads, those cool shopping ads – make them pop and suit your brand's personality.

For better business services come to the best digital marketing agency in Noida

**Crafting Your Epic Google Ads Campaign**

1. **Unleash the Keyword Ninja:** Before you dive in, get your keyword game strong. Figure out the words your dream customers are typing in. These keywords? They're your golden tickets to ad stardom.

2. **Copy that Clicks:** Time to unleash your inner wordsmith. Write killer ad copy that speaks to your audience's soul. Tell them why your thingamajig is the bomb and what they'll miss if they don’t click. Oh, and don't forget that sizzling call to action!

3. **Landing Page Magic:** You’ve got them hooked, but where do they land? Your landing page! Make sure it's a seamless journey – relevant, persuasive, and in sync with your ad's vibes.

4. **Bullseye Targeting:** Google Ads gives you superpowers to target like a boss. Think location, demographics, and interests – aim for the stars, baby!

5. **Extensions FTW:** Imagine your ad as a superhero – now give it superpowers with ad extensions. Links, callouts, snippets – use them to make your ad stand out and be the talk of the town.

6. **Test, Tweak, Triumph:** Here’s the scoop – your first try might not be your best try. Test different ads, headlines, and strategies. 

**Polish Your Armor: Monitoring and Optimization**

Hold on tight, this ride's not over yet! After launching your campaign, you're in for some hands-on action:

- **No-Nos with Negative Keywords:** Stop the madness of irrelevant searches by setting negative keywords. No more wasting precious clicks on those who ain't interested!

- **Bidding Battle:** It's like a bidding war, but way cooler. Manage your bids based on which keywords are rocking the charts. Put more power into the winners and watch the magic happen.

- **Quality Score Quest:** Google's got a thing called a quality score. It's like their way of giving you a high-five. The better your ad matches user intent, the lower your costs and the higher your ad ranks. That’s a win-win.

**In the Grand Finale**

So, fellow adventurers, you’ve ventured through the Google Ads wonderland. You've got the tools, the know-how, and the confidence to rock the online advertising scene like a pro. Remember, this digital realm never sits still. Keep your ears to the ground for the latest trends and updates. Now, go forth and conquer those clicks, because you, my friend, are the ruler of the Google Ads kingdom! 🚀👑

Catch you later,

digital marketing agency in dwarka, vrankup

[affiliateplayground]

Stuck in the Daily Grind? Break Free!

Discover the 'Escape the 9-5' Blueprint: How I Walked Away From My Job and Achieved Early "Retirement"! Freedom was Closer Than I Ever Imagined—Just a Few Clicks Away!

Hey there, fellow dreamers! If you’re feeling like a hamster on a wheel, zooming around the 9-5 grind, you’re not alone! That daily routine can feel like being stuck in quicksand, right? But guess what? You don’t have to stay there! Let me take you on a journey – a journey that led me from the cubicle to freedom. Grab your favorite drink, kick back, and let’s dive into the Escape the 9-5 Blueprint!

The Great Awakening

Picture this: You wake up every morning at the crack of dawn, drag yourself outta bed, and head to a job that feels more like a prison sentence than a career. If this sounds like your life, it’s time to pull the plug, my friend! I had my own “aha!” moment when I realized that life is too short to be stuck in a dull job. It was time to spread my wings and fly!

So, what kicked me in the rear to make the leap? It was a combination of frustration with the daily grind, a desire for more freedom, and a sprinkle of inspiration from folks who’d already broken free. It was like a light bulb went off in my head, and I thought, “If they can do it, why can’t I?”

The Game Plan: How to Make the Leap

Okay, folks, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. You’re probably wondering how the heck I pulled this off. It wasn’t magic, I promise! It took planning, determination, and a whole lotta courage. Here’s how you can do it too!

Step 1: Identify Your Passion

First things first – what makes your heart race? Is it knitting cat sweaters, teaching yoga, or maybe whipping up the next culinary masterpiece? Find that thing that lights a fire in you! Your passion is your golden ticket to escaping the 9-5 grind.

Step 2: Start Small

Now that you’ve got your passion, start small. You don’t need to jump ship right away. Begin working on your side hustle while keeping your day job. It’s like dipping your toe into the water instead of doing a cannonball! Trust me, it’s much less scary this way.

Step 3: Create a Plan

Here comes the fun part! Create a solid plan for your exit. Write down your goals and map out steps to achieve them. This can be anything from setting deadlines to reaching out to potential clients. If you’re serious about quitting that job, treat your side hustle like a real business – because it is!

Step 4: Build Your Online Presence

In this digital age, your online presence is your business card. Create a website or a blog around your passion. Share your knowledge and experiences with the world. Use social media to connect with your audience. It’s all about building relationships, baby!

Step 5: Network Like a Pro

Get out there and meet people in your niche. Join forums, attend meetups, or slide into DMs on social media. Networking can open doors you didn’t even know existed! Remember, it’s not just what you know, but who you know.

Step 6: Save Up and Plan for Transition

As you build your side hustle, it’s wise to save some funds. Life happens, and you wanna be prepared. Aim for a financial cushion that gives you peace of mind during your transition. Think of it as your “freedom fund” – it’ll help you sleep better at night!

Step 7: Make the Leap!

Alright, the moment of truth – it’s time to leap! When you feel confident enough in your side hustle, and your financial cushion is looking good, give your boss the ol’ heave-ho! It might feel like jumping off a cliff, but trust me, the parachute you packed (aka your side hustle) will kick in.

The Transition: What to Expect

Once you’ve ditched the daily grind, buckle up! Life is about to get wild! You’ll have more freedom, but that also means more responsibility. Here are some things to expect during your transition:

The Learning Curve: Starting your own business means you’ll wear many hats. You’ll be the boss, the marketer, and the janitor! Embrace the chaos and learn as you go.

The Roller Coaster of Emotions: Some days will be fantastic, and others might feel like you’re trudging through molasses. Stay patient and trust the process.

Time Management Challenges: You’ll need to master the art of time management. Before, someone else set your schedule, but now it’s all in your hands. Grab some to-do lists and keep yourself in check!

The Joy of Freedom: The best part? You get to call the shots! No more Monday blues or office politics. You’re in control, my friend!

Tips for Successfully Running Your Online Business

Now that you’re outta the rat race, how do you keep that entrepreneurial engine humming? Here are some essential tips for making your online business soar:

1. Stay Focused

It’s easy to get distracted when you’re your own boss. Stick to your goals and keep your eye on the prize!

2. Keep Learning

The online world changes quicker than a cat can pounce! Stay updated with trends, tools, and strategies. Consider taking courses or attending webinars. Knowledge is power, folks!

3. Build a Support System

Surround yourself with like-minded entrepreneurs. Join online communities or local groups. It’s always nice to have a cheer squad when you’re feeling down.

4. Don’t Forget Self-Care

Running a business can be demanding. Don’t forget to take care of yourself! Schedule breaks, treat yourself to some downtime, and keep that work-life balance in check.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

Q1: How can I find my passion? A1: Try different things! Think about your hobbies or activities that make you lose track of time. Your passion is out there waiting for you!

Q2: Is it possible to start an online business while keeping my job? A2: Absolutely! Many successful entrepreneurs start as side hustlers. Take your time and build your business gradually.

Q3: How much money do I need to start an online business? A3: It depends on your niche! Some businesses can start with very little, while others might need some investment. Make a budget and stick to it.

Q4: What if I fail? A4: Failure is just a stepping stone! Every failure is a lesson learned. Embrace it and keep moving forward!

Conclusion

So, there you have it, my fellow freedom seekers! Breaking free from the daily grind isn’t just a dream – it’s a reality waiting for you to grab it! With passion, a solid plan, and a sprinkle of courage, you can escape the 9-5 and create a life you love.

Remember, the journey might be bumpy, but it’s oh-so-worth it. So, take that leap, spread your wings, and soar into the life you’ve always wanted. Your freedom is just a few clicks away!

https://bit.ly/3Y95Bs5

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

hey so i'm hoping to get some writing advice about creative burnout? like i seem to write in fits and spurts. some months i can churn out a oneshot or chapter everyday and some months i can do one (1) creative thing only. so i'm wondering how to prevent creative burnout and how to just create more smoothly <3 thank you!

Creative Burnout & How To Ward Against It

First, I’d like to preface this all by saying you’re definitely not alone. You probably already know this, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.

I know from personal experience that creative burnout can leave you feeling hopeless, detached from yourself—the kind of identity crisis no one needs in 2020. 

So buckle in, folks. It’s a dosy.

I. The Symptoms

Not to be the local WebMD page here, but signs of burnout can include:

Procrastination (more than usual)

Dreading writing and feeling stuck or overly perfectionistic when you try

Physical tiredness and/or irritability

Feeling like everything is monotonous

It’s more than just writer’s block. It’s a physical and emotional exhaustion response to something that goes deeper than a simple lack of inspiration. In my experience, and from a bit of research, I’ve found that what your brain is really looking for is dopamine.

Dopamine is essentially your brain’s chemical reward system for doing something interesting or exciting to you. As someone who is diagnosed with ADHD, I have chronically low levels of dopamine, so this is a constant struggle for me—but it is absolutely made worse by creative burnout.

II. The Problem

Studies have shown that the more we do A Thing the less that thing will give us dopamine (unless a component of the activity changes regularly). This is because eventually our brains desensitise to the stimuli provided by the activity, and subsequently, we become disengaged.

But it’s not necessarily The Thing (i.e. writing) that becomes boring. Actually, more than a few factors could be at play here, and the first step to finding a solution is to identify the problem.

1. ENVIRONMENT LACKS EXCITEMENT/CHANGE—

Sometimes, the monotony of everyday life can feed creative burnout. This becomes especially applicable in quarantine when you’re not leaving your house.

What we don’t realise is that even something as small as the variables of driving to and from work, or interacting with passing coworkers, gives us dopamine. So if you have the same routine every day that does not involve any added variables, your brain will begin staunching that dopamine supply.

2. EITHER TOO EASY OR TOO CHALLENGING—

In 1975, Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, coined the term “flow”, which refers to a heightened state of creativity and concentration on an activity. Csikszentmihalyi posited that if your skill level is equal to the level of challenge in any given activity, you will experience this state of flow.

The chart below is taken from Csikszentmihalyi’s own study on the subject of flow and motivation. It examines “your skill level” on the x axis in relation to the “challenge level” on the y axis.

Essentially:

Too much challenge + not enough skill = anxiety, worry (which might lead to procrastination and perfectionism)

Too much skill + not enough challenge = boredom, apathy (which might lead to monotony, irritability, and other depression-like symptoms)

Skill level = Challenge level = Flow

3. NOT ENOUGH “ACTIVE” STIMULATION—

When it comes to dopamine seeking, there is a distinct difference between active and passive stimulation in the brain.

Active stimulation is any form of activity that you have to actively engage in. For instance; exercising, doing a crossword puzzle, or reading a book. These kinds of activities not only give you dopamine, they also facilitate critical thinking and problem solving thought processes, which act as catalysts for creativity.

Passive stimulation, on the other hand, comes in the form of television, social media, and YouTube. It’s anything you can consume without having to actively engage. Passive stimulation will indeed give your brain dopamine, however, it won’t activate your creativity.

The problem also lies in the speed at which you receive the dopamine from passive activities. Passive stimulation is so easy to access that the more you consume, the harder it becomes to pick up active stimulation. Your brain expects a hit of dopamine just by picking up a phone or turning on the TV—it becomes addicted to the quick fix of a Netflix binge.

III. The Solutions

Based on the problems mentioned above, I am going to list a few solutions. Keeping in mind that not every solution will work for everyone, these can act as both preventative measures and remedies for someone who is currently burned out.

1. CHANGE UP YOUR ENVIRONMENT/ROUTINE—

Aim to do at least one thing per day that will add “variables” to the monotony. This can be as simple as going on a long walk, dressing up in that bold outfit you always wanted to wear to the office but never did, or sitting at a different workspace in your home.

Anything you can do that’s simple, but might provide an extra variable to your day to spice things up. Note: this shouldn’t be the same thing every day.

2. CHALLENGE YOURSELF MORE—

If you find yourself bored by your work, try challenging yourself more. This could mean setting goals for yourself that go a bit beyond what you’ve been doing. 

For example, if you’ve been writing 500 words per day, see if you can beat your own word count every day for the next week. If you’ve been writing mainly fluff pieces, switch it up and do an angst piece. See if you can write a book in a month, or start a blog where you don’t write fiction at all!

Anything you can do to add a little kick to your workload. Note: Beware of challenging yourself too much! This can lead straight back into burnout.

3. CHALLENGE YOURSELF LESS—

If you’re on the flip side of that coin, and find that you are anxious, procrastinating, and perfectionistic when it comes to writing, fret not. Just because you’re experiencing any of these things, doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing the job with your skillset.

It just means your perception of the job needs to be shifted.

Procrastination, at its heart, is a fear of failure, which results in actively avoiding the negative emotions associated with the task that causes this fear. Perfectionism is a type of procrastination that is a combination of a fear of failure and a fear of success (or, more accurately, other’s critiques of your success) all at once.

Neither have anything to do with your actual skillset, but they have everything to do with your perception of your skillset. Obviously, this is a harder thing to fix, as it has to do with deeply ingrained levels of self-esteem.

What I can offer you is a tactic to trick your mind into thinking you’re capable.

If you have a task, big or small, and you are feeling overwhelmed by it (like you might go curl up in bed and scroll Tumblr), immediately break that task up into smaller tasks. Keep breaking up the smaller tasks until you have the smallest possible part of the bigger task without doing nothing.

Then do that smallest possible thing.

If your goal is to write a 2000 word one shot, a small part of that task is writing half of it. An even smaller part of that task is breaking the one shot up into “scenes” and writing one scene. For instance:

Jude wakes up to a sore throat, a runny nose, and a fever.

She tries to go to work, but Cardan, being the mother hen that he is, threatens to never make her another grilled cheese sandwich (her favourite food) ever again if she doesn’t stay home.

Jude agrees begrudgingly, and Cardan sits her down in front of the TV with a bottle of Gatorade. He leaves to go get medicine from the store.

When Cardan comes back, Jude is worse than before. He makes her soup and saltine crackers and spoon feeds her.

She complains the whole time and, in her feverish state, threatens to never buy him another bottle of wine (his favourite food) ever again if he doesn’t let her feed herself.

Each bullet point represents one “scene” of about 200-400 words each. Obviously, there will be more details that you work out as you write. But with these five smaller scenes, your goal is no longer writing the 2000 word one shot. Your goal is writing the first of the five scenes.

If you complete the smallest possible task, you can stop, and you’ll still feel like you’ve accomplished something because you can cross off that task from your list. But chances are, by the time you cross off one task, you may have inspiration enough to keep going.

4. ENGAGE IN ACTIVE STIMULATION—

Since active stimulation has been proven to turn on the creative “tap”, try incorporating more of these activities into your daily routine:

Exercise: As the resident couch potato, I hate to say that exercising is good for creativity, but it is. Even if it’s just going on a short walk, so long as you’re moving.

Reading: Sometimes you have plenty of ideas, but no words to fit those ideas. Fill your well of words by carving out an hour or two each day for reading a good book.

The Creative Process: In the writing world, the creative process is a process of about 20-30 minutes that the writer partakes in every day before they start writing. This process should be creative, but also have nothing to do with writing. You can try colouring in a colouring book, painting, organising a page in your bullet journal. Anything that is creative but does not make you think about everything you have to do that day. Think of it as creative meditation.

Listen to music: Having APD, I personally can’t listen to music while I write. However, studies have shown that if you listen to at least ten songs per day, it will significantly benefit your dopamine levels and overall mood. If you’re like me and prefer to work in silence, maybe stick on a couple songs during your creative process. If you can manage music and writing together, get out those headphones!

5. KEEP A REGULAR SCHEDULE—

I know this is the most cliche point in the book, but it’s valid. This doesn’t mean do the same thing at the same time every day over and over, because ultimately we’re looking to avoid monotony. 

But having pillars of structure to bolster the excitement can definitely work to keep you from slipping into burnout. Going to sleep, waking up, and having your meals at relatively the same time every day are good examples of this. 

Feel free to change up the things you do between breakfast and lunch, but make sure you have those pillars of consistency so your brain knows that a break is on the horizon and doesn’t get tired.

6. PACE YOURSELF—

This is particularly difficult for those of us who are coming out of a creative burnout, but I urge you to pay special attention to this one. If we are suddenly hit by inspiration and the writing is flowing and flowing and flowing, eventually we will hit the point of highest dopamine capacity for writing.

Not putting a check on the flood of inspiration coming out of a creative burnout, I’d argue, is actually a guarantee that many of us will experience burnout all over again. It becomes this vicious cycle in which we are trapped.

While it feels great to write non-stop and receive immediate validation for that work, try to limit yourself to how much you’re writing and how immediately you post your writing (if you plan on posting it).

Whenever I finish a one shot or a chapter of something, I like to allow at least one day for editing before I post. This timeframe is important, because it acts as a buffer of rest between writing marathons. 

You can take however long you need for the editing process, but definitely make sure you have a set amount of time in place. Otherwise, your brain might not have enough time to come down from what is essentially a writing high, and you will always need to reach greater heights in order to achieve that same level of dopamine.

~~~~

Overall, the most important things to take away from all of this are: 

Change up your environment

Keep your brain actively stimulated 

Have pillars of structure between which you can run about chaotically to your heart’s content

PACE YOURSELF!

Hope this helped. Happy writing!

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Tip Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

Celebrate 2K with me!

[autumnslance]

What was it like going from World of Warcraft to FFXIV? As someone who has never played an online RPG before FFXIV I am often :0 ?! when I hear that some people found getting into FFXIV hard because of the mandatory main quest when they just want to go to endgame content as soon as possible. Is going endgame ASAP a regular thing in most online RPGs?

Have a header image of a FFXIV version of my original WoW Main, Discipline Priest Lirriel F’sharri.

Me, a concise answer? Hahaha! Sorry. This got long, so behind a cut it goes and hopefully I answer to Nonny’s satisfaction, taking the questions and breaking them down:

Is going endgame ASAP a regular thing in most online RPGs?

In a lot of games it can be, yes. WoW doesn’t really have a linear overall storyline; each zone has its own story, and each expansion has its own story arc. Nowadays, with how long it’s been running and how big it’s gotten, WoW has revamped their questing so that you decide if you want to go through 1-50 in a specific expac (Burning Crusade, Cataclysm, Wrath of the Lich King, etc), and then catch up to the newest expac for the newest levels, since they also recently did a “level squish” as well as a stats squish, as they had gotten well over 100+ levels in the last couple expansions. Numbers are a problem for long running games (which is why experienced MMO players nodded and some even sighed in relief when the stat squish for Endwalker was announced).

I don’t think FFXIV will be able to do anything similar since their overarching story is so linear; it’s more like playing a single player traditional JRPG with some MMO features attached. I can see them perhaps scaling experience point gain with quests the way they have with the side quests in Shadowbringers, or with Beast Tribe dailies; that would work going forward I think. Unless we get the option to start with the new storyarc starting in 6.1; that could be interesting!

The only other time I had a linear story to go through similarly to FFXIV was early days of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, which I played briefly at launch. Even then, each planet had its own storyline, the overall storyline was the individual class questlines. There was, I think, an overarching plot, but it didn’t really come into play until level cap? I don’t even remember and never got to cap because the grind in that game at launch was awful.

And that’s a thing about many MMOs; the leveling experience is learning about the world, introducing characters and setting, but it’s mostly filler until you get to the endgame where the raiding is--and in WoW, the story is only completed via seeing it in raids (thank goodness for Looking for Raid) and was the main focus mechanically as well. WoW didn’t really have an overarching story in Classic, it was a lot of disparate elements setting up and holdovers from the original RTS games and led to random raid content. Burning Crusade gave us an overarching plot with going to Outland to face Illidan--which honestly wasn’t all that well done storywise. BC is remembered fondly for the quality of life changes and allowing smaller groups to raid, rather than requiring wrangling 40 people. And the raids were challenging and fun--or frustrating, but mileage varies there. But the impetus for “the Dark Portal opened and Illidan’s in Outland being bad” was...pretty much it? Later expacs like Wrath had much better story setup and throughlines as they went, and my one friend described Shadowlands as having something like an MSQ. There are, however, a lot of retcons and putting necessary plot information in supplemental material, which was always frustrating. I’ve likened it before to “imagine going from defeating Tsukuyomi at the end of 4.3 and all the separations and set up there...and then the next patch picking up with getting warped to the First because everything that happened in 4.4 and 4.5 occurs in a novel.” That’s too often been WoW’s method of connecting expansion stories while players languish for a year or more in the last raid content.

I wish I was kidding. FFXIV having a set, quick release schedule, that they keep to so consistently with such good quality--and cosmetic and RP stuff added too!--is astounding to me. I worry for the devs’ health at times--then I hear things like Yoshida turning down requests for crunchy overtime to keep said devs from burning out, hence why the next Ultimate is pushed to 6.1. I appreciate that greatly. Getting anything not pertaining to endgame raid and PvP content in WoW was often impossible, coming with complaints from the raiding community that frivolous additions for sheer fun cost them whole tiers, and seriously 18 months between patches was not unheard of.

What was it like going from World of Warcraft to FFXIV?

I started FFXIV at the beginning of Heavensward...but I was still playing WoW. FFXIV was my side game, as I was still invested in roleplay and raiding with my WoW friends. So I mostly enjoyed playing through the story at a leisurely pace, but I didn’t finish ARR for like 2 years. When Stormblood came out I was hitting burnout in WoW despite mostly enjoying Legion, and the quality of life changes for StB really invigorated my interest and ability to play. The longer GCD for FFXIV was actually one of the biggest challenges for me, especially since I had primarily tanked and healed in WoW. I am not an aggressive or competitive player, nor very manually coordinated, so DPS has always been a challenge for me. I find DPS easier in FFXIV thanks to the longer GCD--I’m still not great, but I don’t feel overwhelmed by trying to hit my rotation buttons instantly. It’s taken me a while to get used to tanking, and I still don’t do it in 8man content, except once or twice with my friends. Mostly cuz I’m just enjoying my DPS jobs, really, so haven’t invested in learning.

...And some of my old fear of random roulettes as a lone tank/healer; WoW’s LFG was a toxic pit for various reasons FFXIV has mostly avoided and even my worst day in FFXIV’s roulette is better than a good day in WoW’s, which gave me anxiety and I stopped doing without friends. FFXIV has no Public Test Realm that people expect you to get on pre-patch to not only spoil story moments, but also learn all the fight mechanics ahead of time and if you don’t know them Hour 1 Day 1 of a new patch release you’re deserving of abuse.

I won’t say never, but I just haven’t found myself interested in going back to WoW or feeling invested in that story, though I do sometimes miss my RP characters (and may write more stories for them sometime). I do keep track of certain beloved NPCs and events--a friend streamed a beautiful moment in Ardenweald for me because I did play through what happened to that character in Legion, sobbing the whole time. I’m tracking what’s happening to Anduin Wrynn closely; we’ve literally watched that character grow up in real time over the years from boy prince to king of Stormwind and I’m still a bit heartbroken about his father. But I play for story and characters, and Blizzard’s way of telling those stories and handling those characters lost me, and with how the Acti-Blizz execs and higher level devs act lately (Hazzikostas keeps striking me as out of touch), they don’t give me much incentive to go back. I may not even pick up Diablo 4 at this rate.

So FFXIV’s story hits the right narrative and character focus for me, especially when I buckled in and replayed...and then replayed again...and now have NG+...Anyway, I like how they build the lore and characters and while it’s far from perfect and they have their own flaws, coming from WoW, it’s a lovely change of pace. Not to mention just how Yoshida and his team interact and communicate with the player base, and see the players’ trust as paramount post-1.x.

...I hear that some people found getting into FFXIV hard because of the mandatory main quest when they just want to go to endgame content as soon as possible.

Some people play only to raid; they like mechanics, and challenges, and feeling powerful at max level with the best gear. They don’t care about the overall story--in some cases because they don’t realize it’s so in depth and linear and sensible after/compared to the constant retcons and revamps in games like WoW!--and are just here to play with friends. Cool for them, if that’s what makes them happy! If that’s how they relax and have fun, power to ‘em so long as they aren’t being nasty to others less advanced/able/willing to put in the time and effort for gameplay. But for me, story and characters are far more important, and I raided quite a lot in WoW at various levels of difficulty and raid size. I am old and tired and want to relax and have fun with friends and write stories that get away with me when my characters get a mind of their own. So I rarely do more than Normals, avoiding Savage and Extreme cuz that grind doesn’t interest me. I’ll do stuff I can do on my own to get my progress fix for my brain (like leveling jobs).

The trouble we’re running into now is FFXIV’s linear story is well over 100 hours long. Even with the ARR revamp cutting a lot of chafe, there’s a LOT to get through to reach HW, and then a lot to get to StB, and then to ShB. And there will be a bunch to get through to EW. That’s JUST MSQ, not counting all the side content a new player may also want to catch up on, like the Alliance and Normal raids, PvP, Relics, Hildibrand, side quest stories like Mail Moogle, Beast Tribes, Crafting...the list goes on and on!

Content in a successful MMO must be varied for multiple styles and preferences for the long term health of the game. Roleplayers and story-focused folks tend to be the ones who stick between patches, farming content at a slower pace to get rewards they want for RP or to see story info, as opposed to raid-focused folks who push new content at release for the challenge and glory. Some of those folks also RP or like story though, so go back to farm between blowing up new content. There’s room for all kinds, and there has to be, and while I am sometimes annoyed by people who skip story (or outright dislike it!) while demanding to know how X works or why a character did A thing, they play their way and pay their sub to keep things running same as me and my obsessive need to know the lore and see it for myself. I can certainly understand those players who story skip that much content to get to where their friends are, if that’s the primary reason they play is to raid with pals, and with New Game+ it’s easier than ever for someone to go back and catch up the story later anyway.

[animationandmup]

Cartoon Forum 2020 took place in September this year, and I’m presenting some promising tv-series projects. You can find the entire list on cartoon-media.eu

Baïdir, from Andarta Pictures (France) Earth. 2089. Flora and fauna have nearly disappeared. Resources are exhausted. One natural disaster follows another. Civilization is collapsing. The future of humanity depends on intergalactic exile to Eccoh, an inhabitable planet. Distant. Already populated. Baïdir, a young orphan, is working on the Ark, a suborbital spacecraft designed and built by the Chrysalide Corporation. He watches out for his little sister, Nayah. He hopes he can give her a better future than the hypothetical one awaiting them here on Earth. These hopes shatter like glass when Nayah gets abducted and dragged on Eccoh, to be used as an energy source to link both planets…

Goat Girl by Daily Madness Productions (Ireland) This is the story of Gigi, a 13–year-old girl who just happens to have been raised by mountain goats. But now that she’s a teenager, her Nanny and Billy think it’s time that Gigi spread her wings (er… horns?), so this year she will attend a boarding school and, for the first time in her life, spend time around actual people. GOAT GIRL is a quirky comedy with a hero who tackles every challenge with a goat-like stubbornness and strength.

Hanna & Nana by JAM Media (Ireland) Hanna & Nana follows a playful pattern and features a recurring theme to help animals in need. Each episode opens with Nana collecting Hanna from school in her little orange car (Buggie), usually Hanna or Nana have an errand to do on the way home before they get interrupted by a call from the Wild. When this happens they drop what’s going on, Nana flicks a switch, Hanna buckles up and her trusty old car Buggie reluctantly sputters and transforms into action mode. 

Howzzat by Far Creative (Estonia) After the Great Collapse, the colonies are held together by the love of cricket which is so strong, that it has influenced every aspect of society. Here cricket is not just a game but the deciding factor upon which a winning colony has political sway, funding and media dominance. Follow Luke, a cricket prodigy, and the rest of the newly formed junior squad of misfits as they attempt to restore the lowest-ranked colony team to their former glory on the road to the Cricket World Cup! Join us for an adventure in friendship, teamwork, and the love of cricket to bowl out those who would use the game and its grand prize for their corrupt agendas.

  Immobile Stars by Tripode Productions (France) Chenghua, aged 9, is preparing a school project on space travel with her best friend. She cannot find enough time to do this as she is constantly asked to translate for her parents. They do not speak French and are dependent on their child; they do not realize that they are placing too heavy a weight on her young shoulders. Chenghua can take no more and tries to break free from her family. Her desire for space and natural enthusiasm will help her take those steps.

OBO, my very spatial friend by Digiblur (France) 10 year-old Zofia and her companion-robot and best friend OBO grew up together on Earth … … Until OBO is mistakenly sent into another galaxy on the biggest space mission ever lead by Humans, all this because he happens to be the official Robostronaut’s twin brother! Luckily, OBO and Zofia are still connected: she can materialize herself as a Haptoclone in order to see, hear and interact with her environment! The most important thing is to avoid a worldwide scandal: nobody must discover OBO’s true identity!

The Olive Bunch by Pixel Giants (Cyprus) In a Mediterranean setting and a community lingering between tradition and progress, best friends Amira, Stephano and Yani search for their place in the world through carefree and inventive play. The three buddies enjoy life in occasionally mischievous journeys, but always with some adult oversight. They need freedom to try new things, but at the same time they need guidance and support. Grandma Lola’s advice comes with love, usually in the form of folk tales that connect her - in uncanny ways - to the land of the olive grove that the family owns. Outdoor play. Mystery. Sunshine.

The Upside Down River by Dandelooo (France) This is the story of two quests: Hannah wants to collect a drop of water from the Qjar River to save her bird; Tomek wants to conquer Hannah’s love. As the story unfolds, these two quests follow one another, overlap and finally complement each other.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Arranged Chapter I (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: None for this chapter (series: E) 

Word Count: 4,004

Summary: Prince and Princess of your respective planets you both agree to wed, not for love, but for advantage and the public cannot know. But there’s only one problem -- the two have never met, not until your wedding day. 

A/N: so this has been several months in progress. I’ll be tagging folks who liked my original post (if you don’t want to be tagged, just shoot me a message!). there’s a lot of set up in this chapter, but i promise it will pay off. I hope you give this series a read b/c its really something special to me. Special shoutouts to @laneygthememequeen, @bucky-of-the-opera, and @mrsrafaelbarba for all the support!!! 

"Come on Poe, you cannot have seriously agreed to this," Poe Dameron did not bother to look from the mirror, eyes concentrated on delicately tucking the wide end into the knot before pulling it down into a nearly perfect loop. But why then, why did it feel like he was tying the noose around his neck before his long walk to the gallows? The dread his stomach certainly sat like it - twisting his guts into a kriffing useless knot, much like the one around his neck. 

"I already agreed to it, Finn," the knot hung a little crooked - well perfect enough - just as his life was, "long time ago." 

Was it that long? It was an instant. An instant that he went from sitting in his mother’s lap in her x-wing, listening to her hum, as she flipped switches and steered the ship across the sky over the Queen’s palace. The quiet buzz of the engine lulled him sleep, until she would rouse him as they swooped in for a soft landing after the daily patrol of the perimeter. The oranges of the sky now inky black, nothing but a glittering scattering of stars and distant planets he knew nothing of. 

And now, he was stuffed in a stranger’s all too stuffy suit, tying a tie, and his feet cramping in tight shoes - and as he stared at himself in the mirror - he barely recognized himself. Probably because he definitely didn’t choose these clothes. A tradition - the bride’s family chooses the groom’s clothes. As he resisted the urge to squirm in his aching feet in his shoes, he wondered if they were hoping he couldn’t run with blue and purple feet. 

“Two weeks isn’t that long ago,” But two weeks wasn’t when he decided. Two weeks ago was when he confirmed it - confirmed that he would do anything to please his Queen, the person who took him in when he had no one - when he had lost everyone. And this - this wasn’t a loss - it was a gain. A gain, of another at his side. 

Finn shook his head, heaving a sigh,  “Just tell me, tell me you’re not just doing this for the agreement.” 

Was it the agreement why he was doing this? Yes, the troops the neighboring planet of Shar could give could end the war, the relief from supplies could stop millions from starving, and the bloodshed, the one that had stained his hands for all too long, could stop. He could finally stop — stop waking up in cold sweats from the images of broken children haunting him, the ghosts of families poking and prodding at his subconscious, until he begged for mercy. It could stop. 

An offer like this didn't come around twice. Except that it did — and she had said no. 

His Queen. 

Queen Leia Organa, his mother by all intents and circumstances, received an offer for an alliance a long time ago, and all that was needed was a hand in marriage - and since Ben's hand was already promised - it only left him. It was considered and mulled over and examined time and time again. The Queen couldn't deny the offer was favorable — especially with forces stirring, plotting, scheming in the background. But in the foreground was her son. Barely old enough to read, much less decide on an offer of marriage. She said no, because at that time, she had the choice. 

But this time, she didn’t. And neither did he. 

“I’m not just doing it for the agreement,” he intoned, mustering up a small smile, “Even if I am, as my advisor, shouldn’t you be trying to make sure I go through it?” 

He saw Finn frown at him in the mirror,  “As your advisor, I’m trying to assure you aren’t making a rash decision,” he paused, before adding, “and as your friend, I’m trying to make sure you’re not being a kriffing idiot.” 

“According to you and Rey, aren’t I always?” he laughs, but it echoes hollowly in his chest, and for a moment he allows himself to feel the weight of his decision - he would spend his life with a stranger. Would they grow used to each other? Would they hate each other? Or worst of all, would they mean nothing to each other? And then the counterbalance weighed in - the war, the shortages, and his mother. He turns to face Finn, “I know it’s the right decision.” 

“How do you know?” 

He only smiles, “Because Queen Organa wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.” And he hopes that’s true, hopes it’s enough. 

“We should get going,” Finn says, but his words don’t register. Not really. Instead, Poe stares out the window, and nearly just out of sight, the very tip of the pavement of the landing strip peeked through, the end of an x-wing barely visible. It would be so easy. Too easy to sneak out of here, feet pounding down the pavement, slipping past every guard, until it was too late to stop him. His head against the rest of the pilot’s seat, thrum of the engine buzzing in his ears, and he would be gone. He would fly somewhere, anywhere he did not have to be responsible for the lives of so many people, somewhere he did not have to follow his duty — somewhere he just could take care of himself. Instead of everyone else. 

Finn claps him on his shoulder, and he's ejected from his fantasy, “Hey, you okay?" And a small voice nags at the back of his head, after the war, after the war, after the war. Maybe things could be different - maybe he could be free. Things change. People too. As do commitments to treaties. Alliances fall and rise with only the flick of a royal’s finger, and why couldn’t his life too? “We can’t be late, it’s your wedding after all.” 

Then why, he thought as he steeled himself, pushing himself to take one step after the other, why did it feel like my funeral? 

~~~~

The march from his quarters to the hall was a lengthy one. One in which every doubt rears its unwelcome ugly head again, whatever seemingly committed front he had put up to Finn shattered in its wake. Now his eyes just looked for exits. Whatever instilled duty and steadiness he had long abandoned him as he left his room, now leaving only with traitorous thoughts and antsiness in his fingers. But eyes — eyes were watching him. Even now as he walked towards where the procession was waiting for his arrival, he felt the gazes of every guard he passed, every servant, every nobleman fall upon him with smiles and well wishes. And imagine what those smiles would be if they could hear his actual thoughts? How quickly those smiles would turn to scorn at his own selfishness? How fast those well wishes would turn to hissed sneers? The math was simple. A single hand to save many. A choice with only one right option. But why did he want the wrong one? 

But why was it wrong? Why was it wrong to want to want to have a choice? Why was it so wrong to want to choose who to love? 

It wasn’t wrong, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he spotted the procession standing at attention, the colors of the Resistance in full thrust, he just didn’t have a choice. 

Or rather he did. His family and his planet or a chance at an unknowable future. 

He gave Finn a nod, before facing the procession, striding forward to take his place. And he would choose his people - every time. 

~~~

“Add more color to her lips,” The Empress of Shar ordered sharply, smoothing her tone over with a saccharine smile that only assured you that this servant would be fired by the end of day, “We want her husband to be completely enraptured by her — anything less will not be tolerated.” Or perhaps, it would be something worse than a simple dismissal.

Instead, your eyes remained concentrated on the delicate designs that had been drawn on the backs of your hand, patterns of vines and leaves intertwined around each other, bound in the same fate. These same hands that saw battle, bruised and battered and bloodied, were now dressed up in rings and bracelets, drawing eyes to the designs that adorned your skin. And while these tattoos were ephemeral, the passage of time scrubbing them from your hands, the ceremony they represented were not. 

That knowledge weighed on you, heavier than the weight of your wedding clothes against your body. Your mother had you dressed before dawn had broken, and even your muscles nearly buckled under the weight, the clothes embroidered to the point of absurdity. And now in the sunlight, you could see it clearly, ornate designs painstakingly stitched into shimmering waves and complicated lattices upon the ivory fabric. You resisted the urge to finger the designs, knowing your mother would lose her mind if even a single bead was out of place. 

The fingers of the servants tugged and pulled on the strands of your hair into an intricate braid, weaving ribbons, golden thread, and flowers into the complicated knots. You bit your tongue as they yanked particularly hard. Complaining would only incite the Empress’s wrath - and you didn’t wish that upon even your worst enemies. 

The Empress of Shar left no enemies behind. And those she did, she left with their heads on a pike. It was in the name of duty. That's what she told you, anyway. 

"Duty first, mercy second," and you learned quite quickly that mercy often didn't come. If ever. Mercy was reserved for only those situations where the Empress had something to gain — and was assured she had nothing to lose. And your wedding was one of them. It would have been all too simple to storm the planet of D’qar, beaten into submission after attack upon attack by their enemies. All it would have taken was one unit — the im’petis —  the force users and their army would have been razed to the ground. But war is messy. War never ends. Even when all said and done, the seeds of revenge fester in the crevices and cracks of a broken kingdom, until blooming into swathes of rebellion. Too many warm bodies lost. Too much wasted time. 

No, it was better - better to forge an alliance, quell any hint of impropriety, instead two planets become one kingdom. And D’qar and the Resistance gain the support of Shar’s vast resources, while Shar’s gains the aid of their technology. The only cost? Your freedom. 

Or your hand in marriage. All the same to you. 

You couldn’t run. You couldn’t escape. It was a choice of your family or your life. 

And you choose your family. Always. 

“Now, it is time for you to meet your husband,” The Empress waves the servants away, and as quickly as they came, they disappear through the double doors, “We will bring you out. The ceremony will be performed separately at first, and then you will be brought before each other as husband and wife,” her lips curl into a smile, “and darling, this must go well, for both our sakes.” 

“Yes, I understand,” she raises a brow, “my Empress.” 

She nods, “Your ladies in waiting will escort you to the procession, and then you and Poe will live on this planet for a time, before returning to Shar. I expect to hear from you, at the end of every month. Especially before your return to Shar."

You would spend a few months on D'qar, here, as the kingdom prepares for the transfer of power from Queen Organa to Prince Ben." 

“Yes,” your throat tight, you give another nod, “I understand.” 

“I imagine you will have little trouble. The prince is flighty - weak minded and eager, in both romantic and unromantic pursuits,” she stops in front of you, staring, and you wonder if she can see the weakness in your heart, every thought in your mind telling you to run now, to refuse. But she says nothing, only winding a curl framing your face around her finger, tugging on it harshly, a thread of pain running through your head, “but may I remind of the stakes of this. All of Shar is relying on you, as is your mother. Do not forget your place.” 

She lets go and the curl bounces back into place, as she turns to leave, her hand pausing on the door handle, “And don’t forget,” she smiles at you warmly, which only makes your blood run colder, “you two fell in love on a diplomatic mission, and now are being wed,” a ploy - to garner support from the public - it was far better in the eyes of the simple folk to marry for love rather than power. Love sells after all, “So don’t forget to smile at your betrothed - you are in love with him after all.” 

The door closes with a click. Yes. Love. Of course. 

No tears well in your eyes nor do you scream. You sit there, staring at your luggage. You had been flown to D’qar night before last. The air was lighter here —  less humid, somehow sweeter than the aridity on Shar. But now, it felt strangling. You rose, bracelets clanging against your wrists, lifting your skirt as you strided forward. You unzipped one of the bags, stuffed with gowns and dress shirts alike, the material heavy as your arm waded through the sea of silk, until your fingers found the false bottom to the bag. Your fingers snaked through the opening, until they closed around what you sought. You pulled the lightsaber from the bag, staring at the intricate design of the hilt, its weight a comfort in your hands. Only days ago you had spent cutting down Shar’s enemies, and now - you would do it again. 

Only this time — there was a knock at the door, and you buried the saber as quickly as you could in the luggage — the deaths would not be on the battlefield, they would be in a palace. 

~~~~

Poe’s stomach twisted. He did not like this. 

A thousand eyes watched him atop the platform set up by both the people of D’qar and Shar alike. All of whom were watching him now as he sat - trying not to fidget in his throne. Drapes of colors of both kingdoms hung - some separately and others in unison, representing the merging of the two planets and of this union. And they hung all around the stage as well, a barrier from the public’s eyes - but only barely - as he could spot their eager eyes between the parting of the banners. 

He did not like this at all. 

A lone soul, his stomach lurching as he waited for the ceremony to begin. A million eyes on him, and not a soul he knew beside him. He wished Finn or Rey - someone could have joined him. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut - at least the Queen. But they were following Shar's traditions, down to the dotted line - part of the agreement. 

A neutral expression would suffice instead of a smile, hoping he appeared to be an anxious groom rather than a miserable prince. The officiant would be joining him soon enough, but it did not make him feel any less lonely by himself. Usually, the men of the bride and groom would join the soon to be husband, but - his stomach twisted again - neither of them were around were they? The one thing he knew that he shared with you - the lack of a father, or perhaps the fleeting memory of one. More a ghost than anything now. 

The corners of his eyes stinged, nails digging into his palms, the nagging thought in the back of his head wrenched to the forefront: what would he think of his son? Marrying a stranger he had never met. Would he be proud of his dedication to the kingdom he had lost his life for? Or would he want something more for him? Something like he and his mom had. 

The chatter outside grew, and he readied himself for the officiant. But did it even matter? He was alone in the end - in life and in marriage. 

“You look quite sad for a man on his wedding day,” his head snapped to attention, as he moved to get up, but his Queen waved him off, “It is your wedding day, you need not rise for me.” 

“But don’t I always anyway, Your Majesty?” he gave a weak smile, rising to his feet as she sat, wrinkling her nose at his formality, but holding her tongue (knowing he would use her title anyway), “How many Sharians heads’ did you have to bite off to allow you to be here?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched, “Only one. And I did not bite anyone’s head off - I only had to ask, and made it clear to the Empress I was only going to ask once to be at my son’s side during his wedding.” 

Son, his throat tightened, swallowing the feelings that rose with that word - the word that wasn’t a word, but so much more - it was the very reason he had agreed to this. More than the scorn, the hatred he would engender, maybe even the crushing guilt of the lives lost - or maybe he couldn’t — but he knew only for certain: that he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being disappointed in him. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says quietly, and she looks over, lips curled in a smile now. 

She raises a brow, “No remarks to be made?” 

Poe looked to the audience as all rose for the approaching officiant, and he knew he wouldn’t run - not because he couldn’t - but because he could live with marrying someone he didn’t know, but he couldn’t live without his home. 

~~~

You didn’t want to have this ceremony. You liked the beauty of it all, the elegance, but only from an outsider’s perspective. Not when you were the one sitting like a shyyyo bird in a cage. You hated all the eyes on you — dressed in bright plumage to draw their gazes, as they watched you take part in this forced mating ritual. 

Maker, it was your wedding day and all you want to do is take a nap. Especially as the officiant's droning voice led you through the vows, you felt your mind wane, though you kept the outer mask of a bride carefully stitched into your features. Even so, you doubted they could see your face through the thick veil of flowers tied around your head, the string digging into your skull. Even through the thick perfume of flowers, sweet and heady, you could smell the distant aroma of dinner - savory and ambrosial - stewing in pots and warming until this ceremony was over. You almost didn’t care if your stomach growled - after fourteen hours in this outfit and being poked and prodded and watched - you were ready to eat. 

And it would be soon enough - as the vows came to an end, with only a word of affirmation needed from the groom and from you. A comlink hooked up to project sound throughout the building - as one was offered to you and most assuredly to him, as so everyone could hear you affirm your love for one another. And it occurred to you, this would be the first time you heard his voice. Curiosity edged in at the corners of your mind - what would his voice be like? Would it be gruff and low? Would it be smooth and dulcet? Would it be pompous and orotund? 

It was one Sharian phrase, but you repeated the word over and over in your head - knowing that a second of hesitation (or Maker forbid a mispronunciation) would look suspicious. 

You hear the officiant ask, “Hal’e turbi hayatak bihah?” Do you bind your life to hers? 

“Nam 'uqad hayati,” Yes, I bind my life to hers. The Shar words rolled off his tongue with clumsy vowels and exaggerated consonants. You had no expectations, and yet his voice was different than you expected. It was neither gruff nor pompous, you supposed it could be smooth or dulcet, but it was still something more than that - and you realized, it was the conviction in his tone. 

For Sharians, arranged marriages were second nature - a tried and true practice that made for marriages that would last a lifetime, most by choice, but others by obligation. You thought nothing of it - it was the same risk anyone took when marrying for love, and the same traps that anyone could fall into in a bad marriage. But for D’qar? Their people have married for love almost as long as they have existed. Even Prince Ben, whose hand had been promised to another, it was because he had fallen for another. So for the precious prince, it couldn’t have been easy to agree to this. And yet, he seemed sure - that it gave you pause - when was the last time you had been so sure of anything? 

You weren’t even sure when you had agreed to this - though it wasn’t like you were given much of a choice. You were perfect after all - the perfect stand in for the princess, one that didn’t exist. There was never a choice that was yours after you agreed to join the Sharian Guard - and even that was a choice between certain death and indentured servitude. 

“Hal’e turbi hayatak biha?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, all hope of running dissipating, as you feel the Empress’s gaze on you, “Nam 'uqad hayati.” 

The crowd cheers in time with the band, the low notes a quiet boom in the background, as you and your groom rise from your chairs and are led down the steps of your individual stages — you by the Empress and him by his mother. Other instruments join in with each delicate step you take, building to an inevitable crescendo when the two of you finally see each other for the first time. 

The first time. 

Your throat is dry, and swallowing does nothing to soothe the very much throbbing heart tangled in your vocal cords. You realize that he’s before you when the Empress’s guiding hand stops, drifting away from your shoulder. Thousands of eyes pierce you from every side, your knees threatening to knock together, but you will them to be still. Princesses of Shar did not shake — but of course, you thought mournfully, you were not one. 

“Please lift the veil and allow your eyes to meet your betrothed,” the officiant orders. 

Gentle fingers part your flowered veil, lifting it over your head. You blink. 

Brown. That’s the first thing you notice when you see them. They were a softer brown than expected. You had heard the rumors about the prince — about his thrill seeking as a pilot and his disregard for the rules (authorizing an attack the Queen had explicitly objected to). You expected more fire, more darkness, and it was there — but there was something more you couldn't place. His eyes blinked as he saw you too, his lips parting, a gentle gaze caressing your face, instead of raking down its sides. His brow only ruffled for a moment, before he smiled  Lips pulled wide into a smile and that's when you remembered — oh yes. You were supposed to be in love. 

You match him in time, chiseling your expression into a shy gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. And his hand found yours easily, his fingers intertwining with his to face the crowd. Even as your stomach stuck to the soles of your feet, why was it that, even with a thousand eyes piercing you, you couldn't help but stare at him? 

~~~

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[urbancripple]

I’ve updated my gear page and added more of my recent recommendations. I also fixed the shitty image formatting so stuff isn’t cut off :D

Each purchase made through those links helps support my site. So many of your have done that recently and it’s been a great help with keeping things running around here. I deeply appreciate it.

This article contains one or more Amazon Affiliate Links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Urban Cripple’s Wheelchair Gear and Accessories

If you want suggestions on what kind of gear you should get for your wheelchair, check out this list.

Wheelchair Tools

Every Day Carry (EDC)

In the Kitchen

Around the House

Bags and Carrying Cases

Food and Fuel

Wheelchair Tools

I don’t carry a ton of gear with me when I go out, but what I do have is super critical to staying safe and mobile while rolling through god‐knows‐what in the streets. Most of this stuff falls in the “Oh shit!” category. You won’t need it every day, but you’ll be glad you have it when you do.

Tekton Long Arm Ball End Hex Key Wrench Set

Most wheelchair components are held together with either with some kind of hex screw. If something goes wrong, you’re going to need a set of wrenches to fix it.

I like this particular set because it comes with both metric and standard wrenches and folds so it can lay flat in your bag or tool wrap.

Pedro’s Tire Levers

Don’t let their size fool you: these are great tire levers. What I love most about these things is the fact that they come in pairs and are designed to wrap around a spoke so you can keep one in place while using the other to remove the tire.

When not in use, they snap together and can easily be tossed in a bag or stashed under your chair.

PRO Bike CO2 Inflator

If you realize your tires are dangerously low after leaving the house or you pop a tube and need to reinflate the replacement, you’ll need a C02 inflator.

Make sure you always keep a couple of spare cartridges on you and remember to never store a fresh C02 cartridge in the inflator: it’ll just be flat by the time you need it.

Black And Decker ASI300 Air Station Inflator

For regular tire maintenance, I really love this air compressor. It’s powerful enough to fill a standard wheelchair tire but small enough to travel in a vehicle. It can even be powered by your car’s DC outlet.

Every Day Carry

This is the stuff I keep with me and use every day.

Foldable Phone Stand That Fits In Your Wallet

It’s a ridiculous piece of plastic and aluminum, but it fits in your wallet and actually works really well to hold your phone up. I use it when doing video calls with coworkers so I don’t have to move my laptop, open it up and plug in my wired headphones.

Harbinger Pro Non‐Wristwrap Weightlifting Gloves

By far, gloves are the most important piece of gear for your chair. City streets are super gross and full of hazards that can stain, cut, or bruise your hands. A good pair of gloves should offer you plenty of protection from hazards while allowing you to maintain your grip, dexterity, and the ability to use touch‐sensitive devices like a smartphone.

That’s why I love these weightlifting gloves from Harbinger. They have enough padding in the palms to protect from dirt, grime, and heat (gripping your tires while going down hill can burn your hands) while the fingerless design lets you keep your dexterity and use a smartphone.

Tactical Flashlight

I know we all usually use our phones when we need a flashlight, but I find a dedicated flashlight to be a lot more effective ( and a lot less expensive if you drop it.)

These flashlights are small, light, and crazy bright. They also come with various modes including strobe and S.O.S.

Contigo Extreme Vacuum Insulated Stainless Steel Travel Mug with Handle

The only way you can safely carry a hot beverage while pushing a wheelchair is by keeping it in an airtight container. I really like this mug because it’s insulated and has a clip. The clip is great because you can easily attach it to your bag or to the back of your chair (I use the backrest release bar). Because it seals so well, you don’t have to worry about it spilling.

Snap Lock Folding Pocket Knife

I like this knife because it’s small, sharp, and easy to carry. Just don’t accidentally leave it in your jeans for the TSA to find (true story).

AmazonBasics Lightning Cable

Fun fact: lightning cables are super cheap if you get them from anywhere except Apple.

Cocoon Grid‐IT Organizer

These things are great for taking all the small stuff that usually ends up rolling around in your bag and keeping it in one place.

Portable Charger Power Bank 22400mAh

Having your phone die is terrifying. This thing will charge your phone and tablet several times over. However, it does take a long time to charge the battery itself.

Slim Portable Charger Power Bank 10000mah

It won’t charge your device as fast or as many times, but it won’t take up nearly as much room in your bag as the other battery.

In the Kitchen

Cooking while everything that is boiling or on fire is at face‐level can be a bit daunting. Here’s some stuff that’ll make it safer and easier.

Meal Prep Containers: 3 Compartment with Lids, Food Containers

These meal prep containers are microwave/dishwasher safe and they stack. It’s a great way to prep meals and save yourself some time and energy.

Extra‐Large Silicone Freezing Tray with Lid

These trays are great for freezing stews and sauces and such. I do a lot of large batch cooking and these are waaay easier than trying to portion stuff out into ziplock bags. The lids make it easy to move it around one handed (what wheelchair user hasn’t gotten wet trying to refill an ice cube tray?)

Silicone Baking Mat

These things are a life saver in the kitchen. Basically, if you use them, you’ll never have to clean a baking sheet/pan ever again.

16 inch Kitchen Tongs

When sitting in a wheelchair and using the stove top, it can be really tough to reach both the temperature dials and anything sitting on the back burner. These super long tongs let you easily reach and turn the knobs on your stove and anything that might be sizzling away on your back burners.

Ove Glove

These things are machine washable and can withstand up to 540 degrees of temperature. They grip well and make it easy to get stuff in and out of the oven. In a pinch, they’ll even double as a makeshift pot holder.

OXO Steel Press & Pour Insulated Cocktail Shaker

If you’re looking for a cocktail shaker that doesn’t freeze your hands off, won’t burst open, and can be operated with one hand, you should get this one. I make a lot of cocktails at home and I really hate cocktail shakers. Your standard Boston style shaker has a tendency to break open on you if you don’t seal it right (and that means your chair gets covered in booze) and it’s a pain to open if you seal it too tightly. This cocktail shaker has a really straight‐forward design. The top is screw-on, it has a simple push button in the lid for pouring and sealing, and it can pour from any direction. I highly recommend it for folks who wanna mix drinks at home but don’t wanna risk wearing their beverage.

Around the House

This is the stuff I keep around specifically because it makes daily life easier for me when I’m at home.

Microfiber Cleaning Cloth

For folks trying to keep their place clean while avoiding using up too many cleaning wipes or paper towels, I’ve found that having a stack of cheap microfiber cloths on hand plus a mix of water and vinegar in a spray bottle really helps keep things sparkly while cutting down on waste.

Multi‐Position Heavy Duty Folding Hand Truck and Dolly

This dolly is great if you need to move something that’s too big or too heavy to carry on your lap. It can be configured in multiple ways and folds up easily for storage.

Retractable Dog Leash

Walking your dog with a standard leash can be tough if you’re in a wheelchair. I use a retractable dog leash with my dog so that I can easily adjust the amount of slack I need to keep her under control while not getting the leash tangled in my chair. In addition, the size of the handle lets me easily loop it through the buckle of my Grab‐It Pack, which means I can securely hold onto the dog while pushing my chair with both hands.

Bags and Carrying Cases

All of the various bags and slings I use to carry stuff when I’m out of the house.

13.3 Inch Sling Bag Riding Hiking Bag Single Shoulder Backpack

13.3 Inch Sling Bag Riding Hiking Bag Single Shoulder Backpack

This bag is small and doesn’t have a ton of storage, but I wanted something that I could wear constantly and had just enough room to hold my backup charging cables and small tools so that I could go out without having to have as much physically strapped to me. If you need something with more storage, they have a bunch of different sizes that are meant to hold more stuff.

This isn’t the exact bag I use day‐to‐day but it is the correct style. I really like the sling style bags: they’re light enough to not restrict my movement and the single strap means it won’t shift around as I push my chair.

Food and Fuel

This is the stuff I carry with me in case I’m too busy to pack a proper meal.

ThinkThin High Protein Bars

It’s always a good idea to keep some kind of portable snack in your bag if you think you’re going to be out and about for an extended period of time. I like to keep a couple of these ThinkThin bars in my bag just in case I’m stuck between meal times. They don’t taste like death or cardboard and they’re not just a glorified candy bar.

[uhhhhyandere]

I love, love, love you ❤️ I was hoping I could request where the main character begs for Yandere Light to let her get a doggo bc she’s so lonely since he made her quit a job. Like full on having a full ass fit. I’m talking full blown brat shit. Just how he would react and what she would have to do to convince him if you catch that drift 😏😉

yeah, i know what i said in my last post. whatever. never believe anything that comes out of my stupid mouth i am the single biggest sob in the universe. 

um… i took this in a… direction to say the least. someone has to stop me from riding suck n’ ride smut bc… it always goes like this. 

next light smut there is going to be ass-eating or i swear to god my name isn’t kerry literally all im thinking about is giving him a rimjob. really. this is where we are at folks. 

warnings: smut, face fucking (oops), dick sucking, sex, rough sex. he not happy boi

word count: 3.5k 

All you did was watch dog videos anymore. Of course, you watched them because you literally had little else to do during the day, but you just… happened to be more open about it when Light came through the door. Did it have anything to do with the fact you’ve been thinking about getting a furry friend to keep you company from the silence of an empty house and the dark recesses of your mind?

No, of course not. It had nothing at all to do with it, and it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that if you ask him directly, he would say no before any more words could breach the air. You would have to be creative, because when Light said “no,” there was no more argument, and you wanted this argument.

“A Pug. Wow. Beautiful.”

“Look, it’s a—it’s a Corgi. Oh my—wow. That’s amazing.”

You’d play around with different sizes.

“This Mastiff? This gentle giant? Can do nothing wrong.”

“This Bichon matches with the snow!”

And you’d talk about listings you just happened to see online from the local shelters.

“This one—wow. All of her shots. She looks so nice. Oh, and potty trained! What a girl. Damn.”

“He’s sitting down—oh a paw. I see a paw. Can he do the other paw? Oh, yes he can. Also has all his shots. Wonderful.”

Considering the man you lived with, you were pretty positive that he figured out your intentions day one or day two max. It’s been about a week since you’ve been… outgoing in your interest. At this point, it was a game as to who would break first. You bet he was waiting for you to get annoyed with his ignoring of anything you said related to the subject with how blatant he was with shirking you off, forcing you to simply ask.

You weren’t going to make it so easy on him. Though he happened to be the king of hiding his emotions, you knew you had to be getting to him. Light would never admit it, and he would certainly never show it. He wanted to keep that satisfaction as far away from you as possible.

So, you turned up the heat.

Before, you would break off the dog topic after a time, wanting to etch it in your daily schedule only bits at a time. Now? It’s the only thing you talk about, no matter the actual subject at hand.

“There’s another event we have to—.”

“The animal shelter is having an event in the park next week for adoptions.”

“I’m going to have to go for groceries soon.”

“Look at this weenie dog dressed in a weenie costume.”

“I—.”

“Doggo cute.”

It was only a matter of time until—.

“This French Bulldog is—.”

“Y/N.” His voice was clear, demanding. Even after all this time, like a teacher scolding elementary students, it immediately brought you to silence. You sat on your shared bed, legs crossed, as he leered down at you from the bathroom. “I would say it was cute at first, but you know it’s a waste of time to try asking anything indirectly. As if I would succumb to your manipulation, but I let you carry on. You would get bored. You would stop and think and realize that it was pointless to keep it up, but you persisted. I thought to myself maybe you were just trying to see if I would crack and give you the satisfaction of indulging in your antics, and I was right.

“It begs the question. Why didn’t you just ask directly? Easy. Because I would say no, and you would be correct. To allow something else besides me your devotion? Not likely. But what? Did you think showing me videos of Shibu Inus and Pomeranians would make me want one first? You have the logic of a six-year-old, Y/N,” Light began to unbutton his shirt, “Did you honestly think it would work? Or did you simply want to get a rise out of me?” He removed the shirt entirely, then lifted his undershirt over his head just as easily. Light tossed the fabric into the hamper, leaving a pale, lithe abdomen on display. He turned to fully face you and took two easy steps forward. “Why would you want one in the first place? Have I not given my fiancée enough attention recently? Is this your way of getting back at me, hm?”

You were almost at an even height to his belt buckle, but you did your best to ignore that as his eyes demanded attention upwards. His gaze was near malicious, but not quite so. Ah. Lascivious. That’s what they were. You swallowed the knot out of your throat.

“Y-you wish.”

“Your hesitation is very resounding. Then, if you’re so sure, indulge me. Don’t tell me you wanted a distraction from your loving husband-to-be. I know you didn’t want something else to focus on besides me when I’m away at work, so tell me. Tell me why you desired a filthy, shedding ball of fur. Your answer may earn you some mercy.”

You unfolded your legs from underneath you as your foot began to numb under the weight of your leg. Your hands glided back and forth on your thighs. Was there a point in lying? No, scratch that. Was there a point in lying to someone who already knew the truth? Well, his own truth that Light would undoubtedly make yours. There was little purpose in making it worse on yourself.

“No, you’re—uh—right.” Light set his hands on his hips.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m just… lonely when you’re at work. So… yeah.” You risked a peek upwards. Oh, geez the smirk on that fucker. “I’m sorry.” His arms rose from his hips to cross over his chest.

“For?”

“Huh?”

“What are you sorry for? Annoying me for days with your drivel? Wanting a mutt? Lying?” You furrowed your brows. “Oh, that one confused you, hm? Alright, well, if you won’t admit it, I can do it for you. Lonely-“ he scoffed- “You can’t be serious. Such a blatant lie from your lips. The second time you are insulting my intelligence. I’ll ask one more time. Where does your motivation lie?”

“I’m not lying!” You hissed, jumping off the mattress to stand. “What—just what am I supposed to do all day cooped up in this place like a goddamned prisoner? Clean? The place is clean. Cook? As if you’d even let me try. Watch TV? My brain is rotting. You don’t even let me help kids with math anymore online. Just what am I to do? Next thing I may just throw myself out the window—,” Hands gripped your shoulders, causing a slight pain at the intensity.

“You think I’d let you? I expect you to stay here and be good and thankful that you are where you are. I, just as much as you, know—knew women who died to be in your shoes, and you’re ungrateful to be alive and safe? You want more?” You tried to shrug out of his grip, and he allowed you to take the steps away from him.

“I’m asking to be a human being, for fuck’s sake! I’m going to sit here and go crazy. Isn’t it enough that I don’t fuck with the rules anymore? I’m quiet. I don’t say anything. I put every façade you ask me to. All I want is something for me! Something to distract me from literally going insane here! To distract me from everything.”

 Light’s eyes sometimes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Right about now, the browns were all-consuming, aflame with ire, but his lips were upturned in a challenge.

“A distraction. Caught in a lie, Y/N. Bad form, even for you. After all this time, you still can’t face reality, dearest. I knew you’ve been pitting your mind in some gutter you call the truth. Makes this all easier to accept, but to go to the physical extent? I won’t allow it, and you won’t be able to recess your mind for long, so enjoy that pleasure while you can.” He paused, countenance recessing to something more composed. “You love me, don’t you, Y/N?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no lie in that affirmation. It was the easiest of his questions to answer. “I love you.” Light inhaled deeply, chest flexing with the exhale.

“With love comes compromise, correct?” You responded with a glare. His tone was all too insinuating. “So, let’s compromise, yes? I hate arguing with you.” He reached an arm out, hand open. Your eyes glanced between the extended limb and his eyes before cautiously taking it. His hand squeezed and pulled you in tight. Light twisted and adjusted you so when he fell onto the bed, you landed comfortably on his lap. Releasing your hand, he brought his own up to gingerly glide his fingers across your cheek, a trail of bumps in its wake as it curled into your locks. Almost like a lover. Almost.

His fingers seized the strands and pulled, forcing your head back and opening your neck for his mouth to latch. “Then compromise, dearest. Prove to me what you think you deserve.” He spoke against your skin, open-mouth kisses with a hint of teeth between his words. “And I’ll make judgement.” His hand let go of your hair and traced to the back of your skull to slant your lips onto his impatient ones. The other wrapped itself to pull your body closer until he pushed you off with an unexpected force, almost knocking you to the ground.

From the unbalanced position, you watched him adjust his position to lie in the center of the bed, head angled to watch you from the pillows with both his hands as another cushion for his crown. Light smirked, watching you stand straight. “Well, go on. Compromise.” 

Light was never on the bottom. It was non-negotiable. Being anything else was utterly unacceptable for a god. This situation, despite the physical placement of both bodies, was no different. You may be the one crawling on top of him, fiddling with his belt buckle, but he had every bit of this situation in his control. Under his watchful gaze, you removed the strip of leather and threw it across the room.

“You’re going to have to help me here,” you muttered after undoing the fly. Wordlessly, he obliged, allowing you to slip the trousers off of his person. You glanced at his feet. Thank god he took his shoes off already, so he only lied in his boxers.

No, you would never be accustomed to this.

“You always look like it’s your first time,” he remarked. “As if you haven’t seen my cock before. From my recollection, you should be quite familiar with it by now.” You inhaled sharply. “Unless you don’t want to compro—.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, crawling to straddle his legs. “Just be quiet,” you said more quietly. You reached out to rub the only half-erect cock through the fabric. Only small groans were elicited above you. Light was not a noisy one, to say the least. It took your first, painful, terrible experience of deep-throating to even get him to moan fully.

“Do you think teasing is going to get you anywhere?” His voice is always composed during sex, and it really was alarming because… you really couldn’t relate. You glowered, fingers digging under the waistband and pulling. He helped again, lifting so you can get the fabric off. “If you think you’re doing anything fully clothed, I should take a cold shower.”

You made quick work of taking the layers of comfort clothes you had on, off. “You really know how to put on a show,” he deadpanned.

“Shut. Up.” You returned to your position, seeing his cock now fully erect from your previous work. You were sure you were wet, but you ignored it as best you could. You had a feeling you would not be serviced tonight. Before you can even lean down, he spoke again.

“Beg for it. Beg for the honor of sucking my cock. Convince me you deserve it if you believe you are so entitled.” There was not a single physical restriction to keep you from taking it into your mouth, but his words were powerful enough to keep you still. Light was daring you to try and misbehave, and you really couldn’t help the physical reaction his words always do to you.

“Please—,”

“Pathetic. I can have any girl in my bed. I can stick my cock in any person interested, and here you are, an ungrateful brat who wants more. You’re making quite an unremarkable argument for yourself. Perhaps I will take away—.”

“Please, Light. Allow me the honor of sucking your cock, of you fucking my throat. I want the privilege of swallowing your seed. Fuck—please. I’ll do anything.” You leaned down close, but not touching anything. You only lifted your eyes up to his. “Please. I know I’ve been bad. Please, let me make up for it.”

Your words in bed were always forced. He knew you hated dirty talk as much as you did, therefore he always made you speak, always made you confess how much you craved him, wanted him, and whenever you spoke it was hardly ever in lies. Your embarrassment was too prominent in your body language to tell him otherwise.

“Go on, then. Show me.” You licked up his length first, then around the head and back down. “Teasing will get you nowhere,” he repeated. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and took him in, inch by inch. Light was incredibly average despite his ego. It wasn’t impossible to fit the entire length into your mouth with slow adjustment, but that didn’t mean it was fun. You would continue to work his length, getting more and less intense with your pressure and the speed your head bobbed. Still, there was little reaction from him, not there really never was any mind the grunts you could make out. Your inclinations to keep going, and you did until you pulled back.

“How’s—,” His hand was at the back of your head immediately, forcing your head back down, pushing his cock down your throat, pushing until you could feel his balls against your chin. No hair. He was pristine down there. You convulsed, gagged, choked, but he did not release his grip. Hand keeping its hold, he dragged your head up just a hair enough to thrust upwards. Water began to pool at the waterline of your eyes. You had to relax your throat, or this was going to be just worse.

But it was hard, so hard at the pace he was thrusting at. You squeezed your eyes shut and took it the best you can. Listening to his quiet grunts and groans, you forced your lips to continue covering your teeth, but you could not force your throat to loosen. Drool pooled at both sides of your mouth, carelessly falling into both him and the sheets along with the liquid of your tears. 

“Your throat is so fucking tight. That’s it. Choke on my cock. This is what your dirty mouth deserves.” Your limited experience could be to blame for its restricting. That, or the selfishness of the man whose grip on your hair tightened even more right before he allowed you to breathe once more.

And breath you did. Gasping, reeling for air as drool continued to leak down. From beneath your hair, you looked at Light, his eyes wild and alive with lust. Small heaves from his smiling mouth mixed with your wet and heavy ones. “Do you think you deserved that, dearest?” You finally wiped your mouth and shook the spit from your arm. “You’re lucky I am so generous. Come. For doing such a decent job.” His hands patted his hips. Swollen eyes met his. “Ride me, before I change my mind and fuck you into the mattress.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you moved to straddle his length. “Oh, your pussy is glistening. Did me fucking your throat really do that much to you? You loved to be controlled, don’t you?” You did not answer, shaky hands guiding his cock so you can sink onto it. You groaned at the feeling. “Tell me how good it makes you feel. How only I can make you feel like this.” You bit your lip, sinking down another inch or so.

“God, Light. Your cock feels so good. Only yours can make me feel like this. No one—no man, no woman, no person—can make me feel anything—like—this—fuck!” You sunk down to the hilt before you lifted yourself again, easing yourself up and down his length. “It’s so good—so good.” Light allowed you more time but decided your gentle pace was not enough to soothe him. He roughly grabbed you and flipped your positions.

“Too slow, Y/N. What did I say about teasing?” He brought his hips back and then snapped them into yours. You screamed, and you wondered if the neighbors would call again, but his pace did not relent.

“Light—please. It’s too—too much! It’s too fast. I can’t…” He smiled, a wicked grin over you.

“And you won’t. Don’t you dare think about cumming. I decided you don’t deserve it. This is your compromise. You get to live, marry, and get fucked by me, and only by me, and I will only have eyes for you. You’ll never feel like you need a… distraction again.” You clenched your teeth and pushed your head farther into the pillows. “I feel you clenching onto me. Don’t you dare think about disobeying me.” His thrusts were even, balanced.

“Please, please, please let me cum. It feels too good. You feel too good. I’ll do anything.”

“Then don’t cum.” You threw your hands back and gripped the headboard, feeling it rock in rhythm to his thrusts. They were beginning to become, sloppy, wild, he was close while you were holding back for dear life. “Y/N. You are mine and mine alone. Your body. Your actions. Your mind. I am the only thing you are allowed to think about.” With one final push, his seed released, filling and coating your insides. He rode it out, making sure every drop stayed. He hated to have to wash the sheets after, though your drool stains remained.

Pulling out, he retreated and stood, ignoring your writing, unfulfilled form. “Come. You aren’t going to sleep like—get those hands away from there. Let’s get you clean before you ruin the sheets even more.” Like before, he extended his hand to your heaving form. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of you, but you need to get cleaned up first.” An unstable hand fit into his own. His gently pulled you to stand and allowed you to lean your weight onto his.

Hot water cascaded down your body. Though Light effortlessly scrubbed washed his hair, you could not bring yourself to match his speed, and by the time he was already done, you hadn’t even washed your body yet. You heard an incomprehensible mutter amidst the running water as he left you alone. He was washing his face as you finally emerged, wrapped in your towel. No romance tonight, you figured. Not that it was any different than any other night. You followed, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and taking your pills while he huddled in bed.

You could only dream of romance anymore. Getting your pajamas on, you approached the empty side of the bed. Before you could get on, Light shifted, opening his arms and staring at you expectantly. You froze. Did… did he want…? “Well, come on.” Ah. Was this supposed to be the ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he mentioned earlier? You supposed he would never wash you in the shower, so this would have to be it. You swallowed and fell into them, feeling his arm wrap you close to him so you lied nearly on your stomach, face buried in the crook between his neck and shoulders. His arm lied around your neck, the other near your elbow on the arm that sprawled on his chest. Oh, hello? What is this?

Ah. This is the quote-on-quote, attention he promised as a fiancé. His eyes remained closed as you stared. How forced was this? You wondered if he hated it, if he saw it was succumbing to your wishes, but it was unlikely. Perhaps it was him showing the physical love outside of sex that you lacked thinking it would keep you from having another outburst as you did before. Him keeping his side of the compromise so you would keep yours.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes before you thought too hard about his actions. The more you thought about it, the more—and less—real it all became, but if he was offering more conventional couple things: cuddling, dates, attention, you would not pose another argument.

“So, no dog?” you whispered.

[kacxaweek2020]

KACXA Week 2020 is less than 48 Hours Away!

Time to GET EXCITED!

It’s almost here folks, and we are all so excited to get a glimpse of some incredible Acxa content. We are a small community, but small communities can be powerful. It’s time to show the world just how powerful we can be.

As we get ready to share our stories and artwork about this amazing pair, here are a few things to keep in mind.

Reminder #1: Let me know you’ve posted your work so we can add it to the KACXA Week 2020 blog. 

Feel free to send a DM to @kacxaweek2020 to alert me that you’ve posted something. We all know how wonky Tumblr can be with tags. The only thing keeping me up at night is someone working hard on their creation and I miss it for the reblog. Please, help me to keep that from happening!

Reminder #2: Sharing the Love - Kacxa Week 2020 on DeviantArt.

Because we want the content creators to get as much well-deserved credit for their hard work as possible, we are actively seeking to expand the footprint of Kacxa Week 2020 to multiple platforms. To support that goal, our good friend @hunterguyveriv is helping us spread the love by setting up a Kacxa Week 2020 group on DeviantArt. The link to the group is posted below. Please check it out!

https://www.deviantart.com/guyvantic/art/Kacxa-Week-2020-Prompts-853159031

Reminder 3: Kacxa Week Rules

1.) Be Respectful to the ship and those producing their works!

2.) HAVE FUN!

3.) Support our amazing content creators. Please Like and Reblog (especially Reblog) to share the love.

3.) Use the daily prompts to inspire your works. If you feel like you are still struggling with the daily prompt, try combining it with another un-selected prompt - sometimes the best pieces are combos.

4.) If you feel ambitious to do more prompts (the remaining 36 Poll Prompts that didn’t make the cut are listed below the cut) than the Official Kacxa Week Prompts we will be more than happy to take whatever you create!

5.) Music Videos! Due to the lack of interaction between these wonderful hybrids, we are not against fan-art being used in videos. But under one stipulation - YOU MUST HAVE either the artist's name listed in the credits or included somewhere on the art piece featured in the video. All artwork used in a video must be credited to the artist.

Buckle up, everyone. The show is about to begin!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hey! thank you for everything that you do! you are awesome. im just wondering if you any fic were Stiles is fae? thank you!

We sure do. - Anastasia

till the moon has taken flight (to the waters and the wild) by WindyRein

(5/10 I 1,426 I Not Rated I Steter)

It's not fair! But he knows already that life isn't fair, doesn't he? He can feel the bitter smile curling his lips.He, if there is such a thing anymore, floats and is torn apart and doesn't exist. (but that would be kind, wouldn't it?)

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

(1/1 I 3,085 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 3,352 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

(2/2 I 3,440 I Mature I Steter)

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

The Other Side by Green

(1/1 I 3,769 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles doesn't know anything about his father, only what his mother told him, that he's human. Despite her words, Stiles has had his doubts. So when the queen sends him through the veil, he's nervous and isn't sure what to think.

Seven Years Falling by InfiniteAlexisA

(1/1 I 3,880 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“I don’t mean to!” Derek yelled throwing his hands in the air.“DON’T YELL AT ME!” Stiles screeched, his entire body going up in flames.This is what Derek gets for dating a fire elemental.

we're not so different (you and i) by colferstilinski

(1/1 I 5,621 I Explicit I Sterek)

For many of the fairies that lives here, Utopia is their sanctuary—haven, in other words—and why shouldn't it be? It never rains on this stretch of meadow, the clouds in the skies always pink with interest and it smells like the breaking of spring every dawn and dusk.

Stiles detest it, the least to say.

It’s too much and he hates swinging along with the status quo with the other fairies. Yeah, with their blooming shades of colours and the shimmering, silken tunics they don on and fuck, the limitless sparkles. There’s even a new trend going on with the younger generation where they gather allium blooms to form a flower crown, oh—with added glitter!—and it makes Stiles wants to roll his eyes.

-

Or the fic in which Stiles is a fairy and wants to escape the horrendous, boring world of fairyland to have an adventure. And by adventure, he means meeting Derek. The plant. Or... not-so plant.

Cold Iron by the_problem_with_stardust

(5/5 I 5,641 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.

salt and a waltz by The Byger (Byacolate)

(1/1 I 7,433 I Explicit i Sterek)

"Not that lubed-up Q-tips aren’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I kinda want to know what it’s like, you know. To be impaled on your huge dick without actually being impaled.”

“It was about to get sexy there, but you shot the mood right in the face.”

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 9,420 I General I Sterek)

Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

(2/2 I 11,687 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is the sole grandchild of none other than Robin Goodfellow, the most mischievous faerie ever to wreak havoc among the Folk and Man alike. To the people of Beacon Court, he is at best a merry wanderer of the night.

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

(1/1 I 15,889 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Broken People Get Recycled by poemwithnorhyme

(1/1 I 16,389 I General i Sterek)

Nothing is ever just calm in Beacon Hills. No, something always has to go wrong, and this time, it's Stiles' turn in the spotlight. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Post S2 AUFae!Stiles

The Magic's in the Coffee by xxxillusionxxx

(8/8 I 17,596 I Explicit I Sterek)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.

When Trust is Everything by hellbells

(12/12 I 27,913 I Teen i Sterek)

For a secret to remain true then only one person can know it; if not then it will come out. Beacon Hills is the converging point of several secrets all wrapped up in the supernatural. For Stiles, the unravelling of several will let him find peace, love and safety in the arms of his true mate. The only question is can he trust a Sourwolf and his pack well enough to show his true self.

It just might be the one thing between Beacon Hills and safety!

(Or observe the really awkward distrustful courtship between a Sourwolf and a hidden Fae Mage)

A Little Bit of Sunshine by 100KlicksAway

(21/? I 29,600 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan

(1/1 I 42,525 I Explicit I Sterek)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.“What? No,” Derek growled.“Was he hot?”“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

We Follow Darkness Like a Dream by GreenasCole

(10/10 I 51,106 I Mature I Sterek)

When a mysterious note is left on the Stilinski's door it leads Stiles and his best friend Scott out into the woods on quest for answers about Beacon Hills's most infamous tragedy. After a surprise encounter with a monstrous wolf the two boys are hurled into an ancient and terrifying world, only for Stiles to discover he was secretly a part of it all along. Will he manage to survive the insanity of Fae politics and avoid the enemies that are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to find a place in this new world? Or will the very revelation of his existence be the catalyst that plunges both worlds into war and chaos? And why can't Scott just stop teasing him every time he catches Stiles looking at their new "friend" Derek too long?

Laughter in the Dark by Starshaker

(13/? I 56,148 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is a fae. A trickster spirit with too much curiosity for his own good and a knack for getting into trouble. When he's just trying to help things don't go to plan and coincidences don't seem to end up for the better.Trapped, isolated and aching to get home, though it's better than what Gerard would have had planned for him initially, Stiles learns to deal with his new set of circumstances.

The Fairy's Wolf by kuki

(57/? I 90,602 I Explicit I Sciles)

In a world where non-humans mingle with humans in public schools until they became of age, about high school age, going instead to a specialty finishing school, a young halfling fae fights to stay with his friends. His fear of losing touch with his best friend, a young Alpha werewolf, has the pair pushing their relationship to the edge; and their relationship has the world on the brink of war.

-or-where I apparently ship Skittles hard now, hate myself with this work load on top of my school work, switch up species because f-u that's why, make up mythology, and try to give Derek a nice life.

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

(15/15 I 95,612 I Explicit I Sterek)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

[hillbillyoracle]

Shadow Work with Me (part one)

Buckle up y’all. It’s a long one. So long it’s coming in two parts.

One post my girlfriend has requested time and time again has been an outline of what to do if she wants to sit down and start doing Shadow Work. And yet, despite it being one of her top suggestions, I’ve struggled to write it. “You just do whatever Shadow Work you want,” I tend to say, which is admittedly a non-answer.

I think one of the reasons I’ve struggled is Shadow Work just isn’t very aesthetic. Even though it’s a cornerstone of my spiritual life, I just don’t feel very witchy for doing it. In fact, it’s one of the areas I feel like aesthetic can actually get in the way. Shadow Work requires you to drop whatever façade you maintain, whatever story you tell yourself, especially the ones you like.

For that reason, my shadow work practice is extremely spare; I’ve taken the rituals out, I’ve taken the candles and the ambiance out. I usually do it sitting on my bed, on my laptop, alone. I usually pray at the end and sometimes I give an offering of incense or booze afterward. Following that, I meditate for anywhere from a few breaths to an hour depending on what I need. Then I grab a snack.

“Okay but what do you actually *do*?” I can hear my girlfriend saying even as I write this. Which brings me to…

Journaling

Journaling is the backbone of my Shadow Work. Basically, all of it is journaling of some form or another, it’s just a matter of whether its tarot assisted or not. I use these journaling styles when I know speifically what I want to work on. I use tarot when I don’t have something I know I want to work on. A mix of both is helpful to me.

I usually use my laptop because it’s easier on my hands. There have been times when I couldn’t type and I’d just turn on the camera or bring up an audio program and talk, going over the recording like I would a journal entry if the method requires it. But usually I bring up a OneNote notebook I have set up for this or an empty word document and go to town.

TMS Journaling

I use this for: when I can feel I’m holding a lot of stress in my body, removing emotional blockages

What it is: Tension Myositis Syndrome/The Mind-Body Syndrome is a medically unrecognized condition where the mind confuses repressed emotions for physical pain. I found it a couple weeks ago when looking for alternative approaches to fibromyalgia (a condition I have) and while I’m not sold on it yet, their journaling exercises have been incredibly helpful. The idea is to allow difficult emotions to come to the surface, see that you’re okay and you don’t have to act on them, and let them float away. Or act on them, I mean I’ve acted on some of what’s come up and it’s been very helpful.

How to do it: The idea behind it is to get in touch with feelings in a raw and routine way. One practitioner I’ve been learning from, talks about letting your inner five year old throw a temper tantrum on the page and that is definitely what it’s like for me. It’s also important for this method to shred the paper or delete the file after you’re done. Because it’s one of the only ways to really get yourself to let loose; when you know absolutely no one will be able to see and be hurt by what you’re writing.

I use a combination of list making and free writes. One of the common TMS journaling components is making three lists: past, present, and personality. Then you list stressors you have under each one. When you go to journal you pick one you’re drawn to and do a 20 minute free write.

I often cry when I use this type of journaling so I really recommend doing it in a private space where you can really let loose if big feelings come up. Though as always, practice good emotional hygiene and mental health safety.

Personal Example: I’ve been extra touchy with my girlfriend lately and I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I keep getting caught between feeling like I was unhappy with our relationship, but I also loved our relationship. Through doing this journaling exercise a few times I figured out that I was a bit angry and disappointed that our relationship didn’t look like what I’d spent so much of my younger years imagining my long-term relationship looking like. But by acknowledging those feelings and realizing they didn’t break us up or ruin what we have, it freed me up to enjoy us more deeply, free from guilt and repression. Long term relationships aren’t going to be the ideal in every way and it’s okay to acknowledge that. What I’ve got with her – mutual respect, deep compassion, shared interests, and lasting attraction – is pretty fucking great and that’s the important thing. Might seem basic but it was something I needed to spend active time processing in order to integrate that part of me better.

More information: TMSwiki

I Think/I Feel/I Want/I Will

I use this for: when I’m feeling defensive, when I’m dealing with current or past hurt by a person/people

What it is: A lot of people use Unsent Letters to process feelings from traumatic situations or old relationships, but I found the format often triggered me because of how often I’d been gaslit and trained not to believe my own reality. I Think/I Feel/I Want/I Will is an adaption of a Dialectical Behavioral Therapy format for being more assertive. I use it in my daily life but it’s also pretty much the only way I can write Unsent Letters.

How to do it: It’s very straight forward. For the “I Think” section, you list the events that happened in as unbiased a way as you can. Then in the “I Feel” section, you write whatever the situation made you feel, it doesn’t have to be factual just true for you. In the “I Want” section, you write about how you want the situation to change. In the “I Will” section, you write what will happen if those changes don’t happen.

When writing Unsent Letters in this format, it often winds up validating whatever current course I’m taking (avoiding, going no-contact, etc) that I’ve been feeling guilty about. It helps me realize it’s not just an uncontrolled tendency but a way of protecting myself from a person or group of people. There are just people in this life who don’t need to or shouldn’t have access to you and that’s okay.

Personal Example: My girlfriend’s family has largely disliked me from the moment they met me. They were unkind and exclusionary, then would blame me for not feeling connected or coming to events. I felt really guilty about not wanting to interact with them for a long time. Sitting down and writing an Unsent Letter like this to her mom and her sister helped me feel firmer in my decision to keep my distance from them. They since decided to go no-contact with both of us, which I can’t say I mind. I think though I saved myself a lot of heartache by just being able to organize my thoughts and feelings in this way. I really wanted to be a part of her family and the situation brought up a lot of memories of being teased and widely disliked when I was younger, so I started to feel this desperate need to win them over. But writing out my thoughts like this helped me realize that I had done plenty and they weren’t going to like me no matter what I did. It freed me to focus on myself and Ria more.

More Information: DEAR MAN

Stuck Points

I use this for: limiting beliefs, inner critic work

What it is: I adapted this exercise from one I did with a therapist for a while. The idea is to try to capture some of the unquestioned beliefs that are a part of our everyday thinking and then slowly shift them into something more functional and positive. It’s really hard though so I don’t even get the opportunity to do this too often because it takes a thought showing up repeatedly and decently loudly before I think to apply this. But when I do get to apply it, it’s very helpful.

How to do it: I keep a note on my phone just for capturing dysfunctional beliefs with I notice them. I also include any beliefs I want to investigate. Occasionally I get a belief that I’m unsure if it’s as true as I seem to think it is and I include it. I try to write it in an “If ____ then ____” statement. Then I try to take time to sit down and write the belief out in a big font. Then I use strike through and write new iterations, recording my reasoning for each of my edits until I get a belief I can’t edit anymore. The important part of this is only making edits that feel true. Even if I know something is true, I don’t use it unless the edit also feels true too. This process can take an evening to a couple months or even a year.

Personal Example: I’m currently in the process of revising the belief that “I’m not a good student”. I’ve had a lot of trouble with school my whole life and it’s been a source of shame for me. I’m not to a point where I would say “I’m a good student”. But through different edits and reasons I’ve arrived at “I’m not a good traditional student, but I’m a good self-taught student.” Just getting it here has helped free me up to look at the self study I do in German, philosophy, and history as a part of my education rather than something separate. It’s shifted from a feeling of being inherently wrong or bad to doing well or even excelling under certain circumstances and struggling with others. That’s still so helpful just to have that degree of separation. It’s still slow going but I do try to work on it from time to time. It’s easy to get frustrated when it doesn’t budge for a while, but I know it will eventually.

More Information: Details on how to write out stuck points to work with

Conclusion

In the next post I’ll cover how I use tarot specifically for Shadow Work. I usually have a pretty even mix of both this style of journaling and tarot journaling over a weekly basis. I’m toying with the idea of doing shadow work journaling prompts on New Moons or maybe weekly. If that’d be something you’re interested in, please let me know! I really do think Shadow Work has a lot to offer us personally and magically and I want to help more folks do it. What other shadow work topics would y’all like to see?

[barryhuff]

Nostalgiaholic - The Remix

When I used to look up at the night sky alone as a child, I imagined a sinister, infinite, black, blanket sprinkled with glitter. Although, when my eyes followed the tip of my Uncle Jon’s finger, as he both traced celestial, stick-figures in the same sky and narrated their mythic, Greek stories, space always transformed from that lifeless blanket and into a destination to be explored. 

Jon, at times, was so inspired by space and space travel, he filled canvases dedicated to the filtered visuals he discerned.  As a dedicated science-fiction nerd, his paintings certainly had their share of stylized spaceships, laser beams, and explosions.  But as an equal part, planetarium-loving, star chart-studying, telescope-owning, amateur astronomer, Jon’s celestial backgrounds were wild, bubbling layers of greens, whites, blues, and reds, instead of a simple, flat, all-consuming blackness. Those paintings showed the cosmos as a tangible, topographic map ready to be explored, and not a deep, infinite sea of loneliness. 

That being said, I used to daily study a picture Jon painted of an astronaut floating upside down in the aurora borealis lights of Jon’s interpretation of space.  The figure held tight to the lifeline coming from his spacesuit at the waist with his left hand.  However, the same lifeline extended from the suit like a piece of floating spaghetti getting smaller, until it vanished in the distant horizon.  His right hand (so big that it appeared to explode from the canvas), desperately reached out for salvation.  

The reflective shield on the helmet hinted at the impending doom of the astronaut.  The reflection didn’t show a ship or even another hand reaching back, instead there were simply more endless miles of lively, colorful flashes of the space setting to die alone in.

No matter how much I wanted to imagine hope for the character, there was none… at least for him.

I often wonder if Jon’s painting was inspired by one of his favorite movies, the 1968 Stanley Kubrick classic 2001: A Space Odyssey.   When it finally, came on network T.V. one Saturday afternoon in the 1980s, I was excited to see it.  Hell, if Jon liked it, I would certainly like it.

False.  It turns out there were two barriers to me enjoying 2001: A Space Odyssey --  Star Wars and silence. 

One summer, my brother and I bragged about watching Star Wars 47 times on HBO.

I thoroughly enjoyed "The Bar Scene".  Especially the part in which a handsome, tanned, mischievous Han Solo (brown, feathered hair parted evenly in the middle) tried in vain to smooth-talk the twitchy-trigger-fingered, reptilian, green-faced, bug eyed, intergalactic thug Greedo (bald head).

Shit, reciting Greedo’s opening line to Han for anyone who’d listen (“Oo-nah too-tah, Solo?”) is still one of my favorite past-times.

In Star Wars, everyone could cover vast distances in the dark, dusty, intensely cold, INFINITE vacuum of space. It’s as easy as a con-artist pulling a few levers, confidently bellowing the order, “Punch it, Chewie”, and going faster than light without having to even buckle a seatbelt.

In reality, distances in outer space were not so easily traversed.

The Earth’s moon is 238,000 miles away. It took Neil Armstrong and the fellas six days to get from Earth, to the moon, and back, all while being cooped up in basically a large, flying port-a-potty. Their spacesuits looked about as comfortable as wearing every outfit in the average American’s good-credit-infused, stuffed closet AT ONCE.

This detail of space travel was not lost ‘Stanley Kubrick’s flick.  Even though there are a beautiful array of stunning special effects, it often felt like the audience traveled each second of the 365 million mile trip from the Moon to Jupiter.  There were no visual cues of a blurring landscape to both gage speed and generate a sense of movement.  The stars are perched in the background like apathetic teenagers forced to sit at the table during dinner, when they’d rather be in the solitude of their own rooms.

Body movements and conversations in the film were also slowed, as if everyone was walking in a filled swimming pool.  Mix in a relaxing soundtrack of orchestral music, and it’s the perfect lullaby capable of depowering my movie-watching enthusiasm.  In fact, the first five times I tried to watch the movie, I would fall asleep at an early scene featuring a space stewardess silently laboring down the aisle in her gravity “grip shoes” on her way to ultimately retrieve a floating pen for a sleeping passenger while composer Johann Strauss’s famous waltz, The Blue Danube, rhythmically chants in the background.

A few years ago, I tried one final time to watch the movie. And this time with the help of a streaming video platform, I was able to pause, re-group, pause, re-group, pause, re-group, and finally watch the movie my uncle loved.  

The striking thing about the movie is how quiet it actually was.  For much of the movie, there are no musical cues to warn of danger or intrigue.  Dialogue was conducted over the subtle drone of machines simply doing their mundane jobs of keeping the enormous spacecraft running during its long flight to Jupiter.   Life and death sequences were not given intense music accompaniment like traditional horror movies.  It’s as if Kubrick was saying, “People’s lives aren’t being scored by some musician to bookmark key events.  Life is merely something that happens -- even in space.”

It’s this absence of audible hints that makes 2001: A Space Odyssey uncomfortably realistic, as if the audience was watching a livestream of a computer gaining sentience, refusing to die (be turned off) and fighting off his oppressors (the flight crew).  

I’ve read that when a “vacuum” exists, somehow all of nature rushes to fill that empty hole.  So it’s funny that many science experiments happen in conditions that closely resemble a vacuum, in an effort to ensure results unweighted by additional stimuli.  Interestingly enough, because the movie is set in the vast, unforgiving, vacuum of space, Kubrick’s storytelling, in essence, becomes an experiment to determine if audiences will stay engaged without the traditional musical trappings.  Indeed, this stark story about the thrilling birth of strange, other-worldly life injected energy into overall science fiction mythology, and also into my young uncle.

Over the past 11 years, I have written a fairly regular Facebook post titled Reasons I Know I’m Getting Old.  When I started this, Facebook seemed to simply be a 21st century photo album, in which many people posted similar, stiff, smiling, posed pictures and inspiring quotes which suggested my extended online community was living their own collective happily ever afters.

But it was boring...

I mean, I loved my kids too, but were only my kids getting whoopings and other childhood punishments?  My wife was awesome too, but was I the only person still having trouble translating to her the humor in my daily fart symphonies?  Was no one else dealing with the often deflating, drudgery of the work-place?  Was parenting a lifelong crap-shoot for me only?  Because there was no connection to what I was seeing on my finger strolls on my phone, I was having a hard time wanting to even own a Facebook account.

Therefore, on April 14, 2009, I conducted an experiment:  How would my friends respond to a post that showed some dissatisfaction?  Nothing political or religious, just everyday grumblings.  I wrote:

“[Barry Huff] is dragging in from coaching his daughter's basketball team only to be greeted by Cap'n Crunch and a [sic] yet another pile of papers to grade!”

It received nine comments (four of those were my own).  And one of those commenters hinted that they understood the challenge of managing the grading paperload.

Facebook soon became a sliver into my reality normally hidden, when I walked into my home and shut the door for anyone who wanted to see access.  Initially, reposting fill-in-the blank lists, or other people’s videos, didn’t interest me.  I just wanted folks to know it was okay to not have all the answers.  Here I was, boogers and all.

But the experiment gathered a more scientific component in March 2020 -- the addition of an actual vacuum.  

In March 2020, the United States of America instituted a national quarantine in the hope of limiting the possibility of infection from the rapidly spreading “severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2)”, shortened simply to the “Coronavirus”.   I suspect that the horrified wails of a certain mexican beer company sharing part of the same name as the virus (after having carefully crafted years of popular commercials associating its product with serene, relaxing beach scenes) are still heard by masked customers now filling their shopping carts with other adult beverages.  Thus ensuring (at least in a few inebriated minds) binge drinking episodes without sudden, beer-birthed, pockets of community spread.

During this quarantine, the noise of my life (reporting to a building to teach, side-hustles, sporting events, car travel, movies, fast food) disappeared.  And with that sudden vacuum, came the desire to collect and revise the writings I posted about the uncertainty of navigating adulthood.

And while I still worry if I have the skill to create something that gives a clearer picture of my true self to my wife and kids, each vignette is a piece of the mosaic of my humanity.  And hopefully, this collection of blessed fallibility won’t be unnecessarily camouflaged during the stories told at my funeral one day, as attendees gulp down heaping portions of smothered pork steak, collard greens, macaroni, and apple pie piled on their sagging, disposable plates.

[bffhreprise]

Entry 344

 Watching Dani solve crazy puzzles while chatting with the others, I was really glad no one had ever put me through all that work for my birthday.  Dani seemed to be enjoying herself, but all of the time spent searching for presents took away from time spent enjoying the presents!  If anyone shared my thoughts, they weren’t bringing them up, so I kept my mouth shut, other than to comment about how incredibly smart the girl was.  Deyanira would have loved seeing this.  Maybe Mila will show her a recording when she arrives.

 “What was that?” asked one of the twins.

 “Just a little spell I taught him on our honeymoon.  He was letting Dani know his parents are here.” explained Alma, looking weirdly natural with a smile.  “You'd be amazed how much he's taught me as well.”

 “What?” questioned the other twin in blatant disbelief.

 James, smirking at her, asked, “Mila, mind showing me of what Jarod's buckle is composed?”

 A diagram of the belt buckle appeared on a different mirror than the one showing Dani’s hunt.  Looking at the chemical formulas, I was just glad I didn’t have any job that had me reviewing chemistry.  There was little chance such a job would come to me in the first place, but…  I could imagine the pay would be extra good.  Everyone knew Jarod’s average job paid far more than most of ours, but the stuff he did was way out there.  Well, everything he did in that lab of his was way out there.  Sometimes I wondered how a guy like that was still so down to Earth, but he was a great pal, watching James with interest.

 After a few seconds of looking at the diagram, James turned around and glanced at Jarod’s belt.

 “Have a problem with my…  Whoa!  Is this real gold!?” asked Jarod in shock as he caught sight of his new bling.

 My mouth was hanging open.  There had been no transition I could see.  One moment his belt was a typical silver, and then it was gold.

 “That has to be an illusion.  Transforming substances accurately is impossible.” asserted a twin.

 “You'll have to change if he doesn't dismiss it.  That doesn't work with your outfit.” insisted the other one.

 Not doubting James for a second, I quickly exclaimed “I'll take some bling!”

 From off to my side, Dejon asked “Is that how you became so rich?”

 “No.  I wasn't nearly so capable with that type of magic before my honeymoon.” replied James with a smile.

 With one of the twins bent over to examine the buckle, I kept my eyes carefully elsewhere, not wanting my friend to think I was enjoying the view too much  

 Patting her back, Jarod said, “I'll do an analysis on it later.”

 “Should be roughly fourteen karat.” stated James.  “I didn't feel too much gold would be good for a buckle, but I wanted to pay for the inconvenience.”  He playfully winked, but still didn’t reply to me.

As Jarod laughed, I waved my hand in James’ view.  “Seriously.  I don’t mind pure gold.” I told him, picturing myself with a number of shiny adornments.

 “And where would you sell it?” questioned my sis, frowning at me as if I had done something wrong.

 “Sell it?  I really want the bling.” I assured her.  “I figure Jarod or Mila will probably help touch it up as needed.”

 She just rolled her eyes, acting put upon by my tastes.

 Catching my eye, Alma looked almost like her previous self as she said, “You can afford your own bling without troubling my husband.”  Even those words didn’t quite have the kick they did before her honeymoon.  There wasn’t really any hint of danger in her tone.

 “Troubling?  He made that look easy!” insisted Dejon, who surprisingly seemed to be taking my side.

 “The spell was incredibly complex and took a large amount of energy, so not easy by any standard I recognize.” argued one of the twins, who probably had actually watched the spell.

 Sometimes, I did wish I had a knack for using that type of magic, especially when James did something unbelievable, but most of the descriptions sounded like so much work.

 “You really must get used to watching magic around you.” insisted the other twin as she frowned at me.

 As far as I knew, no one had a clue I had ever even seen the energy.  I was taking that secret to my grave if I got to keep skipping out on magic practice.

 Before I could reply, both sets of double doors opened, revealing James’ parents strolling inside.

 “Good morning.” stated Mr. Somerset as he carried a large present into the house.

 Mrs. Somerset waved and asked “Where's the birthday girl?”

 All of us looked up at the screen where Dani seemed deep in conversation with the little fairy from the forest.

 “She has apparently been distracted.  Alma and I hid her presents throughout the yard and house with clues where to find them.” explained James to his folks.

 Alma grinned as she said, “I blame Aaliyah.  She's the one who told us that simply handing over gifts from us was too boring for our daughter.”

 “Dani enjoys the puzzles.” insisted James somewhat defensively.  Seeing him interact with his parents was refreshing, reminding us that he really was still human.  More often than not, he seemed… greater.

 “Jarod, dear, that buckle really doesn't go well with your shirt.” commented Mrs. Somerset, catching sight of the bling.

 “Blame your son.” complained Ai and Mai in unison as they stared daggers at James.

 “Yeah, well… I felt like demonstrating a spell the twins would find difficult, and turning his belt buckle to gold qualified in my mind.” replied James, still sounding defensive.

 Mr. Somerset just shook his head as he said, “Your mother's right, you do have the golden touch.”

 I laughed with the rest.  Who could argue when James was making the company flourish.

 “Happy birthday!” exclaimed Mrs. Somerset, stepping over to embrace Dani.

 With the birthday girl back inside, we had a wonderful breakfast at the long kitchen table with even more varieties of food available than normal.  If not for the few of us with bottomless pits, so much food would go to waste daily.  Over breakfast, Dani pleased with Mr. Somerset to join her in the hunt for presents.  Kayla, of course, couldn’t be left out when Dani’s pleas made the hunt sound so excited.  She almost even had me convinced, but my stuffed belly helped to keep me seated.

 Mrs. Somerset followed the rest of us into the ballroom, where some of us discretely logged into Ancient Tribes of Earth while occasionally glancing over to see how Dani was doing.  I doubted I even got to play for an hour before Dani came inside, but I was looking forward to seeing her reaction to my present.  Despite James, and even Alma, assuring us that we didn’t have to get Dani anything, no one wanted to be the one person who didn’t.

 Knowing that Dani was bound to already have any serious gift I could dream up giving her, I went with a gag gift, surprisingly the only one.  Dani was surprisingly delighted when turning the handle produced music, but seeing her jump as the clown popped out was hilarious!  The shock and slowly-spreading grin were fantastic!  The look she gave as she recovered and thanked me made me a little nervous, but I doubted she’d could one-up me on gags.  Despite seeming almost as old as most of us, Dani had obviously lived in a very secluded part of the world.  Someone with her looks and vibrant skin would have hit the net the day she entered a city if she hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere.

 My jaw dropped open when I had found out that Dani had never seen Star Wars.  As was tradition here, all of us showed up in the theater with full costumes, slightly improved from last time.  Jarod and the twins were oddly in agreement against wearing exactly the same thing twice.  Jarod loved to tinker too much to not make any adjustments on the sabers and utility belts.  The twins were just fashion nuts, two of the few people willing to spend hours talking with Brenna about her modeling jobs.  No kid of mine would ever do modeling, not when there were so many more entertaining things to do.

 Dani was prone to loud exclamations throughout the first movie.  She was probably thinking that she could easily take some of the Jedi in a fight.  With James dressed as Darth Vader, who was going to argue if she declared war on the rest of us?  

 A spontaneous fight broke out after the first movie as a few of us had restroom breaks.  I had expected as much and was raring to go, charging at one of the twins with my lightsaber.  That… didn’t go so well.  I did manage to get a sneaky attack in on Sis before Emma cut me down.  Avoiding Dani turned out as a safe plan than actually fighting the girl for me.

 First off, Dani knew basically nothing about Force powers, having only seen a tiny bit from Episode IV.  She had hurled fire in a couple different ways that seemed unbefitting the force, and she actually threw some real electricity instead of an illusion of it another time.  Then there were the magical traps she had made on the fly…  James straightened her out each time before anyone was injured, but I still felt safer fighting on the other side of the room as her.

 After a good battle, we all had some lunch, which was an even grander affair than breakfast had been.  The fight coming back a little in the kitchen ended with us all being sent to the dining hall.  Marco was adamant that his kitchen would not have any sort of fighting, and James backed him up immediately, apologizing for all of us.

 Though they had plans to head back home after lunch, Dani had easily persuaded her grandparents into staying for another movie… and then another.  When dinner was over, they finally were allowed to leave, with Alma convincing Dani that they really didn’t want to spend the night here, not when they had plans for the next day already.

 Surprisingly, we didn’t hit the prequels after Mr. and Mrs. Somerset left.  Dancing was apparently something people did in the middle of nowhere for birthdays, and Dani could really dance.  None of us had a problem with showing off some moves, since our dance parties were a bit rare, but I doubted I was the only one pointedly keeping my eyes off the Boss’ daughter whenever I wasn’t dancing with her.  Even Deyanira, who had shown up for dinner with a necklace for Dani, admitted that there was something about how Dani moved when we were alone later.  Yep, life here was never dull.

[debu-neko-kun]

Amon

https://www.deviantart.com/whiteknucklewhiskey/art/Amon-the-Jailor-825780217 Wrote a thing for https://www.deviantart.com/whiteknucklewhiskey of his General/master interrogator/bemuscled squishy Amon, who can be viewed at the link at the top. He’s a really neat character with a very interesting fantasy/sci-fi world going on around him, and it was a blast writing this. Thank you for the opportunity to depict him this way :3 A bit darker than normal (a little warning there for the folks just here for the softs), but a nice challenge nonetheless. Content below  includes descriptions of chonk, brief violence, and a dash of dourness.

“General ger Reizenghest: step forward.” The voice of The Leader echoed through the lengthy room, smooth but strong, deep but biting; it reminded Amon of the stones on the shelled-out volcanic beaches near the primary front. He did as he was told, the floor of the private meeting room creaking beneath his boot steps, a thin layer of perspiration plain on the bulge of his thick neck. ”Two successful captures conducted in the last 24 hours, sir.” he began, instinctively squeezing one hand into a tight fist, the silver-beaded necklace in his grip making a soft *crk* against the polished leather of his glove. “One expired today at 0600, following interrogation. The other-” “You didn’t *fall* on him, did you?” the Leader spoke, the corner of his lip curling ever so slightly into a semi-bemused smile. The others in the room— medal-clad captains, the hulking Surgeon, svelte assassins— remained unerringly stone-faced. “…No, sir.” He replied, feeling that void rising up in his flabby stomach like antimatter. A whisper of a whisper, echoing back and forth through his core, growing in intensity. Amon swallowed it down, his collar suddenly choking, and continued on, “Exsanguination. The information he released will be tested by a reconnaissance team. The second prisoner will be interrogated upon the termination of this meeting today.” “Very well. Send me the results as soon as they are ascertained… oh, and Amon?” “Yes, sir?” “Cut back on the sweets, will you? You’ve set the standard for unwavering dedication to this country, but that compulsion of yours… unsightly. Do better.” The void was in his throat now, choking him like a stone. “Yes, sir.”

The train ride to the prison was his second favorite part of the day. It gave him a chance to rest, collect himself, remove these goddamn tight boots… and most importantly, have lunch before the real work began. A short, boyish waiter did his best to maneuver two meal carts into the spacious train car, sweet and savory scents carried through with him. “Your meal, General. Should I call you General? Oh, dear, I never remember…” Amon took a draw from his cigarette, blowing the acrid puff in a smooth stream across the train car, and put it out in an ashtray by the window. He never looked at the waiter, too busy at a low table, plotting pins on a map centered between stacks of papers all stamped “Confidential”. “Leave the carts.” he ordered, pointing back at the connecting door. “I’ll ring you if I need more.” “I-I, uhm-” the waiter stammered, a bit taken aback by the sudden request. He set two platters back down and bowed, quickly shuffling back to the door. Before he left, however, he turned back and mousily chirped, “You’re looking very fine today, General. I hope you enjoy your meal.” And with that, Amon was left alone. He took in a deep breath, reached down, and undid the large round belt buckle on his front. Instantly, it practically burst out of his grip as his belly spilled forward unfettered like a fat sack jelly, soft and supple rolls of flesh surging into his lap. The polished leather of his waistcoat creaked with the strain of holding it all in, equally shiny pants doing the same. He felt both lucky and cursed that his uniform was primarily leather; lucky that it was sturdy and a bit stylish, cursed that it hugged the twin globes of his vast ass and squeezed his blubbery belly into one great obsidian ball. Sure, his back was covered by the tail of his coat, and his chest was partially disguised by the multiple layers of his upper uniform, but his gut… it bulged out for the world to see, squished around belts and buckles and pushed the zipper of his jacket up. It was unavoidable, but at least it made him seem more imposing… at least, he hoped. The bulging muscles of his arms didn’t hurt in that aspect, anyway, though even they seemed to have a tinge of broad softness about them these days. None of this was of any concern right now, however. The only concern he had, he thought, pulling the lid off one of the covered trays next to him and bringing the dish to the top of his belly… …was how flaky the butter cake was today. The rest of the ride was spent with little else but the savoring of fine flavors, each dish as decadent as the last. Silky ganache truffles were plucked from polished trays, their intricate chocolate patterns appreciated only momentarily before being sent down to his hungry belly. Latticed pies with dustings of freshly cultivated sugar were consumed with little fanfare while he perused the marks on the map ahead of him, mind split among rich flavors and front lines, travel routes and creme fillings. He only brought his attention fully back to the food when the sky outside vanished; the neon glow of the low-energy tunnel lights filled the cabin with an unearthly atmosphere and bathed the map in shadows. “Ah well,” he sighed, taking a bite of eclair. “For the best.” He’d need to build up his energy for when he reached the prison, he reasoned. Interrogations always left him a bit tired, after all, and he had plans for the night beyond. And what better source of energy than a hearty breakfast and a quiet moment? So, with one hand on his half-packed gut, he leaned back, finished the eclair, and declared it time to move onto the main course.

Amon was waiting by the door when the train pulled into the station. He adjusted his vest— feeling twice as tight as before the trip— and straightened his collar in the reflection of the door windows. Satisfied with his appearance, he drew a cigarette from his chest pouch and lit it, the orange glow from the lighter mingling with the red light of the security checkpoint. He loved the way the colors mingled; if only they’d let him add some of that color to his uniform. Sure, he was allowed a bit of red here and there, and his medals offered a patch of vibrancy against the black, but he wanted something that was really *him*. He made a mental note to get with his tailor tomorrow. The doors slid open in front of him, the train car rocking ever-so-slightly as he stepped onto the platform. Just as he did, four soldiers rushed up to him, each clad in the same drab uniform: white shirt, black tie, black pants, all wrapped up in a militant black trench coat. They regarded him with hesitation, or what seemed to be hesitation; it was a little hard to tell how they were feeling, as every common soldier had their head wrapped in featureless black fabric. “Well?” he huffed, glancing around at each of them. They each turned their heads to eachother, shuffling gently. “Clear me, you goddamn fools, and open the gate!” he snapped, growling out at them with fists clenched at his sides. The all jumped simultaneously, two rushing to his wide sides to give him a once-over scan. They had to spiral around him to capture the full breadth of his form, something that frustrated him every time. “Quickly.” Amon spat, venom seething from between clenched teeth. The two by his sides gave thumbs-up signs to the other two soldiers waiting on either side of the large subterranean entrance to the prison, who each pressed buttons in their respective booths. The screen above the huge gate flashed a green checkmark, followed by a scrolling “Welcome, General!” in the swirling text of his native tongue. He left them with darting glares, but they didn’t seem too bothered; they just regarded him with salutes as he passed into the corridor beyond, the large iron doors grinding back together behind him. A cold wind wrapped around his wide body, a welcome comfort on the long walk through the halls beyond guard offices, captain’s quarters, bunk rooms and resting areas. By the time he reached the elevator, his feet already ached and he had to rest against the wall of the elevator to catch his breath. He’d said it before, and he’d say it again: the interrogation room was much too far from the entrance. Why bury it so deeply? They were already deep beneath the earth, and nobody’s ever screamed loud enough to be heard through a mountain. “It’s good for you,” The Leader had once said after he proposed a relocation of his working space. “Perhaps if you walk it long enough, you’ll lose that gut.” Only after a long grumpy silence had he said he’d think about it, and the work order was sent out only to be lost between the wall and filing cabinet belonging to an overworked desk boy. The elevator doors opened at the bottom level, beneath even the normal prison cells. The hallway was well lit, cobbled floors glistening gently from the daily mopping, disinfectant strong in the air. Amon walked slowly to the door at the end of the hall, boot-steps reverberating strong and brief along the walls. He produced a key, twisted it in the lock; he’d always insisted on the old-fashioned nature of the interrogation quarters, down to the heavy wooden door and candelabras. It almost made the spacious room feel displaced from time. A place plucked out, made solely for pain. The prisoner was waiting for him beneath a swarm of hanging chains that clinked gently above. He looked strong, all bulging muscles and squared features. He had a cloth wrapped around his eyes, and shackles on his hands and feet, holding him fast against the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Come to kill me?” the prisoner asked, leaning his head back. “Not if you talk.” Amon breathed, placing his coat on the hook by the door. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, contemplated taking his gloves off for this one. “Then you’re just gonna have to kill me, ‘cause I’m not feeling chatty today. Say, you mind taking this blindfold off, though? I prefer to look death in the face.” Amon said nothing, just wandered slowly behind him to untie the bow of his blindfold. And just as slowly, hands behind his back, he stepped out in front of him. “Aw shit.” the prisoner gulped, suddenly presented with the hulking jailor. Eyes darted across the glaring, blue-eyed visage above him, from the devilish inverted red pyramid on his lower lip to the bullish golden ring in his nose to the high cheek bones that gave his face a snake-like sharpness. Amon could see his stomach collapse, the air— and courage— rushing right out of him. “W-Well,” he gulped, trying to regain his composure. “Aren’t you a pretty one.” Amon swiped him across the cheek with his fist, shallow enough to just graze his teeth. He needed him to talk, after all. “Enough.” Amon barked, leaning in close. “Battle details only. Give me something useful.” The prisoner clenched his eyes shut, wincing away the pain. “Fuck, okay,” he said through clenched teeth. “Details…” Amon grabbed him by the jaw, squeezing his face painfully. “Now.” “Okay, here’s one: it feels like a marshmallow.” Amon’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Your gut, on my knee, feels like a fat, warm, squishy goddamn marshmallow. How’s that for details?” The grip held a moment, tightening ever so slowly around his jaw. And then, Amon released, turning to take slow steps toward a polished wooden cupboard just beyond the sight of the prisoner. “What’s the matter? Can’t take the truth?” the prisoner laughed, throwing his head back. “Thinking.” Amon pulled the cupboard open. On one side, a tidy row of records shelved just above a little boxy record player he’d received from his mother for his birthday. “What?” Slowly, he pulled open the other door, mind still wondering what to listen to after he was done, what could possibly wash away what he was about to do. Behind this door, similarly tidy, were a number of instruments; whips, surgical instruments, knuckle dusters wide enough for his generous hands. Strong but soft hands moved across the tools, fingertips ghosting past metal and wood and stone. He stopped when he reached a simple iron-core baton, the surface painted with a thin layer of protective rubber. Not for safety, of course. “Thinking,” he repeated, wrapping his hand around the baton, glove creaking with the force. “Of how I’m going to hurt you.”