#enough laziness etc etc life is meant to be lived etc etc

[bethegaycowboy]

i need to be more interested and enthusiastic about my life :/

[applestorms]

a "quick" little logistical refresher on shinigami eyes & lifespans, mostly for myself but also bc i keep seeing posts talking about this that bother me:

when ryuk first presents light with the offer of shinigami eyes, it comes with an added explanation of the primary (biological?) differences between human & shinigami. specifically, along with the difference in sight distance and ability to see names & lifespans, shinigami use their DN's as a kind of base survival mechanism. while no human weapon/physical attack could ever hurt them, and they have no biological need to eat/sleep/drink/etc, the one thing they do have to do is write down names, at least enough to ensure that their life counter doesn't tick all the way down.

presumably, this is one of the reasons why shinigami can't see each others'/their own lifespans: not just because it is unnecessary, as ryuk says, but also because it is constantly changing as it ticks down, bringing the shinigami closer & closer to their own death until they refresh it by writing down another name. if we could see shinigami lifespans, they would be shifting every second/minute/hour/[insert shinigami-based time measurement here]-- in a way, time is their basic life function.

this means that, by necessity, humans are different. a human lifespan cannot change-- or, even if it does have the ability to adjust under certain circumstances, it still absolutely cannot be influenced by the DN. the DN influencing lifespans goes inherently against the point of using the DN as a way of getting more time, as it would mean that at maximum, all shinigami could only get approximately 40 seconds of life for every kill. they would have to be much more regularly active to keep living under such circumstances, which goes against the whole lazy/slothful shinigami realm thing that's set up early on.

sidenote1: theoretically, you could maybe consider a circumstance where time is a lot more fluid, where human lifespans tick down just the same as shinigami and get transferred/sucked over when their name is written in the DN. but considering the fact that (iirc) it is never depicted like that in any animated/live action mediums, and that the explanation seems more focused around the mathematical approach of, "well if you have 60 years listed and you're 40, the shinigami gets 20 years for writing your name," i'm inclined to disregard this idea or call it mostly non-canonical.

so, following this logic, when light kills with the DN he is almost undoubtedly killing people before the end of their stated/written lifespans. the DN's influence on reality is not something that is predetermined by these written lifespans for the reasons listed above, so if light kills someone at the time they were meant to die, a la BB, it is purely by chance. (e.g. lind l. tailor might've been slated to die that day, but his death could still be considered "unnatural," since it was ultimately caused by the DN.) this tends to be the line of reasoning that people follow when they say that, "everything in DN was ryuk's fault," assuming not just that the DN's influence is unnatural, but that the presence of a shinigami itself is somehow breaking the natural flow of how humanity would've existed on its own when freed from such a presence.

this of course brings up the interesting if somewhat complicated question of free will in the DN universe, though i think we can get a clearer view on this by asking a simpler question first: what is a "natural lifespan" anyway?

intuitively, if we are working under the assumption that humans have at least some semblance of free will, it's easy to assume that a natural lifespan is something that humans can influence. i.e. if you eat healthy, work out regularly, take care of yourself mentally, etc. you can improve your length & quality of life, or just the opposite if you do not. however, this again seems to go against the already established principle of "human lifespans do not change," so i don't think this explanation fully fits.

instead, i actually think there might be a similar logic working here as how diavolo's king crimson stand works in jojo pt. 5-- namely, that there is some fated/destined route that all of humanity is destined to go down, should they be free to go their own way. this implies that at least some/all human action is predetermined to a degree, with deaths being fated/unavoidable if the lifespan counter decrees it, just in the same way that a death cannot in any way be avoided if written in the DN. even if nobody (that we know of in-story, anyway) can see it, there is a destined timeline of human action & existence that will play out naturally should humanity be left alone from any exterior forces, shinigami or otherwise.

the question is only how much the action of shinigami influence this destiny in the long run-- like, does the existence of KIRA in the early 2000s influence the lifespan of children born in japan even after light's death in 2010/2013/2006? presumably, yes, as it would be a huge pain for shinigami if they could no longer trust lifespan counters to accurately depict times of death, and the influence of the DN supposedly only works on those whose names are directly written down. so, perhaps the predetermination only works on a smaller scale, looking only at the destiny of each individual human at the time they are born?? something to consider.

EDIT: actually, scratch that, the answer to that should probably be no-- the entire point is that light's influence is somewhat meaningless in the long run, even if humanity still remembers KIRA distinctly long after light's death, as we see in the c-kira & a-kira post-canon stories. the real question here is whether or not the lifespans of kids born at the time of KIRA's reign are influenced-- which again the answer to which should probably be no, as the DN's influence is limited. guess it just feels weird to think about, that everyone remembers KIRA so distinctly but their lives are still destined the same either way. a bit of weird writing, perhaps? again, this gets into the question of what specifically is being predetermined here-- we see the twin towers still standing post-2001 in story at one point, so were those deaths simply not predetermined in this universe?? big sigh.

sidenote2: even going along with this explanation, i don't think you have to entirely divorce the existence of free will from the DN universe, or at the very least you don't have to believe that every single individual action a human takes or emotion they feel is strictly predestined. this could start getting into more formal philosophical arguments though, and i'm not reading any more hume if i can help it.

ironically, this all kinda goes directly against the idea that light is somehow destined/fated to rid the world of evil by being a teenage serial killer-- if anything, it means that light is specifically going against his fated path by using the DN. you could maybe even make the argument that light is one of the only people in the world acting with true free will, freed from his destined path through the power of an outside force. it's very very very interesting to me in this context that humans using the DN seem to lose their destined lifespans entirely, seemingly breaking from their fated paths entirely purely by gaining such a power, the only lasting remnants of fate's influence being a vague doom hanging over their heads (rip minoru tanaka). i mean-- i guess you could still argue that even that was still fated, that there's like another layer of shinigami-based destiny on top of the base-level human destiny, but this is starting to get stupid so i'm gonna stop talking about fate for now.

point is: please stop saying that beyond could somehow tell that L or naomi or mello were all gonna die soon in the future due to KIRA. he had no way of knowing that-- their lifespans would be written the same regardless of whether or not light got the DN, because the DN by necessity cannot influence the written, predetermined human lifespans. thank you for reading my speech, mic drop.

[reviewinghiccup]

I WOULDN’T KILL A DRAGON…

When I was a kid, I was very different from my peers. I stood many inches taller, was a different race than the rest and I couldn’t speak their language as fluently (yet). I wanted so much to fit into what I thought society was, and looked however everyone else looked. This made for a very miserable childhood which developed into a stigma that carried into adulthood.

When I started working, I didn’t do too well at first - not because I wasn’t good at my jobs, but because I just didn’t like the work I was doing. But I had this image of “Who I Should Be” and was hyper aware of how far short I fell.

This is why loving HTTYD is more than just childhood nostalgia, because upon a rewatch this last weekend - it dawned on me - Hiccup was never a coward, lazy, bad luck, etc. he was stuck in a funk of what he sees should be his reality and what his reality is.

Actually, Gobber was the only one who knew that Hiccup just had to find a way to accept himself for who he is. Obviously, he wouldn’t know that who Hiccup truly is is what the village needs to propel them to the future, but Gobber knew enough that Hiccup would not be able to be like a typical Viking because he wasn’t a typical Viking.

His father knew that too - begrudgingly - but he understood that Hiccup was different and he likewise just didn’t know how to place him and where Hiccup would eventually sit in the village.

But Hiccup took time before he got to realising that he would’ve never been happy being like the other Viking kids. What he loved he discovered when he allowed himself the room to step outside his comfort zone and listen to that voice on the inside telling him to find out more about dragons.

Hiccup is a Viking. His fate ties very closely to dragons, but not in the way that it has for centuries. It tied to the future, and that was why he would never fit in in the village as he is. As the village was changing, it needed the leader to bring about that change. Another Stoic would’ve spelt defeat for Berk in the long run of succession (think about it, how long were their ways of living going to let survive?).

Hiccup was confined to the environment he was in. And that stifled his progress. And what if, this mundanity, that feeling of being “trapped” in a dead end job or community be a sign that we need to outgrow our placement? We need to give ourselves permission to just accept that we’re different and go after that spirit of adventure tugging at our heart.

When Hiccup stopped caring what the villagers thought, and focused on learning about dragons and building that contraption to help Toothless fly - he shifted his life’s trajectory to being what he thinks he should be to what he actually is.

And that’s why, a favourite scene of mine is the one leading up to Test Drive - that trial and error, focus and determination to learn, live and find that adventure within the mundanity of failure and mistakes. You can see him beaming with purpose, working on himself and frankly coming into his own.

To be fair, before he met Toothless, he obviously didn’t know what he should be, because without Toothless there would be no revelation that he’s a dragon rider. So, it made sense that he was lost, and thought (just like everyone else did) that he had to be like his dad. But when the opportunity came the best thing Hiccup did was allow himself to embrace his differences and not kill Toothless, accepting his quirk forever whatever it may mean.

From this point on, his whole life takes a drastic turn and he becomes everything he was made out to be, and I guess what I’ve been looking for - is that change, because I think I’m also in an environment where I don’t relate to the others though I know I am meant to do something here. I just can’t tell yet - what.

[mstgay3000stories]

Frat4Sale: Crave

Another story about a lazy roommate :) Commissioned by Habernath. Hope you enjoy! For more, check out this link:

Kristopher was only twenty one, a junior at college, and quite a looker in his own right. He had brown hair styled high, dark eyes, and a clean cut, boyish face with kissable, pouty lips. When he smiled, it was mischievous and playful, highlighting his best features, and making him even more irresistible.

He took great care of his body too. He often worked out, shaved frequently, and remained fit and trim, oftentimes going out shirtless in public just because he could. He had the girls at campus fawning all over him, and had plenty of notches on his bedpost to prove it.

And yet, despite his stunning looks, he was a total slob at home. He knew it. Everyone that knew him knew it. But he didn’t care.

He even had a roommate at one point, who could vouch firsthand for his poor personal habits: a young man named Melvin.

Melvin and Kris didn’t really get along. Melvin was rather uptight, and not only was Kris a slob, he was also an ass. Melvin would pick up after Kris whenever he left his clothes lying around, or whenever he left his dishes in the sink, or left food out everywhere, and any time Melvin tried to bring the issue up, Kris dismissed him or even mocked him. Sometimes, Kris would walk around shirtless while snacking, shamelessly dropping food or crumbs all over his hard, perfectly sculpted chest.

“Uh, you got food on you,” Melvin would say.

“Why don’t you lick it off then?” Kris would reply, laughing mischievously as he sauntered away, leaving more crumbs on the freshly vacuumed floor.

Living with someone so careless was certainly difficult for Melvin. But it was balanced by the fact that he found Kris overwhelmingly attractive. He, like the many girls Kris had fucked over the years, had no problem cleaning up after him if it meant he could ogle his perfect body just a little bit longer. Fortunately, Kris never caught on, and if he had, he would have made life even more miserable for the sophomore.

Kris moved out of the apartment the next year, but Melvin still missed getting glimpses at Kris’ perfect form, from his amazing chest, to his perfect rear, to his tasty, sexy feet. How could someone so sloppy be so incredibly hot? One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

When a friend recommended the Frat4sale website to him, he was absolutely floored to discover his old roommate on it. He knew that Kris was part of some type of frat and was strangely defensive about it whenever he inquired. Now he knew the reason why.

He had heard several stories from others about the mysterious Aaron, the guy that ran the website and the frat, and it always seemed so implausible. A guy that could mind control others? It sounded ridiculous.

It didn’t stop him from pursuing a session, especially since Kristopher was available. There was no way he was letting that opportunity slide. Besides, he would know right away if it was fake or not given Kris’ reactions to it when meeting; the guy was as straight as a horizontal line.

He had saved up enough money since moving out to buy a session that lasted about a few days. He described the scenario to Aaron through a detailed email, a little something that had been born from his own private fantasies.

In his scenario, he wanted to be roommates with Kris again, to briefly relive their torturous time together, but under very different circumstances. Kris would appear at his apartment, and be back to his usual jerkwad self. He would take off his clothes, walk around shirtless, and be as messy and asinine as always, only this time there would be a penalty that came in the form of The Douchebag Jar.

The Douchebag Jar would require Kris to put money into it anytime he ‘broke’ any one of Melvin’s rules regarding tidiness. Anytime he left his clothes around? A dollar in the jar. Food on his chest? More money for the jar. Etc, etc.

However, each time, Kris would find himself inexplicably unable to pay. He would still have to pay the price for his infractions—and Melvin was going to make him pay with his body. If Kris was under control, as Aaron claimed, then his requests should pose no problem.

He was surprised when he got an email back from Aaron. Everything he had detailed could be easily arranged, all that needed was payment. Melvin sent the money, then waited for his day to arrive, feeling anxious and even doubtful. He wondered why he had blown so much money in the first place. He even made a Douchebag Jar just for fun out of a mason jar and a taped piece of paper, with the words boldly spelled out. He didn’t expect to use it. The whole thing was probably a hoax anyway.

On the appointed day, he heard his doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. He held his breath for a moment, half-expecting it to be anyone other than Kristopher, but when he opened the door, his mouth slipped open.

Kristopher was back. Melvin gawked at him for a few moments, scanning him up and down with disbelief, yet there he was, with the same surly look on his face, his muscles bulging through his thin cotton shirt.

“Move?” he said.

Melvin regained his senses and got out the way. Kristopher barged in, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“H-how are you, Kris? Nice to see you and—” 

Kristopher ignored him and headed to his old room, as if he had lived there the whole time, then shut the door without a word. Just like the old days….

Melvin sat down on the couch to take a breath. He couldn’t get over it. Was Frat4sale real? His eyes wandered over to the Douchebag Jar on the coffee table and he felt a tinge of anticipation hit his cock.

Only one way to find out.

Kristopher came out a short while later and headed to the kitchen.

“What’s to eat?” he said. 

Melvin stared at him. He had taken off his shirt, and was walking around in shorts and socks. Melvin’s eyes scanned his fine, muscular, hairless body, his cock rumbling between his legs. It was like they really were roommates again.

“Hello?” Kris said, opening the fridge. “You deaf or something?”

Melvin collected himself. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t been to the store lately.”

Kris groaned loudly, and instead of being annoyed, as usual, Melvin felt giddy.

Kris slammed the fridge then headed to the pantry, and returned with a bag of chips that Melvin was saving for lunch the next day. He opened it without asking, then shoveled a handful into his mouth, crumbs falling all over his bare chest.

He headed to the living room then slumped into a sofa chair and continued to eat messily, chewing with his mouth open, as more and more crumbs tumbled onto his skin. Melvin stared at him from the couch, his heart thumping. 

“What’s that?” Kris said, nodding his head towards the Douchebag Jar on the table.

“That’s uh, the Douchebag Jar.”

“The fuck is a Douche Jar?” Kris said, eating even more noisily.

“That’s Douchebag Jar, and it’s part of, uh, the new rules I’ve set up here.”

“Yeah? What kinda rules?” Kris burped, startling Melvin. He felt so nervous he could hardly articulate himself.

“Right. Uh, starting today, anytime you make a mess in the house, you need to put a dollar in the jar.”

They stared at each other silently for a moment. Melvin thought Kris was going to burst into laughter, or cuss at him for something so idiotic. Instead, Kris looked down at the mess he made on his bare chest, crumbs strewn about.

“Fuck.” He ate a single chip, spilling even more crumbs onto his flawless torso.

“Yeah….”

“Well I don’t got a dollar, bruh. So now what?” Kris stuffed his face again.

Melvin took a deep breath. It was now or never!

“You need to pay up, and since you don’t have any money, uh, I’ll need to...need to take something from you. From your body.”

“What, you gonna cut my finger off or something?” Kris laughed in his familiar, childish laugh.

“No, I mean, uh,” Melvin took a breath, then stood up, “oh fuck it, you need to pay up by doing anything I say, that’s what. And right now, since you have no money whatsoever, I demand that you let me eat those crumbs off your chest.”

Melvin felt his cheeks turn red. Did he really just blurt that all out? He immediately regretted it. It always felt so much better in his fantasies.

Kris gawped at him quietly. While Melvin couldn’t see it, the jock’s brain was already going off, Aaron’s conditioning running through it like engine oil, twisting and changing his natural reactions, subduing his natural jock instincts to laugh and bully.

Instead, Kris broke the tension with a sigh, then tossed the bag of chips onto the floor. “Fuck, man, I knew I shouldn’t have moved back in. These rules are gonna kill me. Alright, fine.”

Melvin’s eyes widened. “Fine? What do you mean, ‘fine’?”

“I mean, fine, you can eat these crumbs off my chest. Whatever. Stupid rule, but I got no money on me, so I guess it’s fair.”

Melvin almost fell back onto the couch. He could hardly speak or even think at that point. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

“Well? What are you waiting for? Hurry up, bruh, I don’t got all day.” Kris grabbed a few more chips from the bag and chomped on them as awaited his fate.

He flexed his chest, inadvertently teasing Melvin with it. Melvin felt the temperature rise in his pants.

He gulped, then approached Kris, falling to his knees. He stared at his beautiful chest, covered in scattered, salty bits and pieces. He half expected Kris to punch him right in the face, but instead, he merely gazed at him with his usual irritable, impatient look. It was as if they were conducting a simple business transaction, that Kris wanted to get over with as fast as possible.

But it was more than that. It was a simple transaction that had given Melvin a full-on boner!

Melvin’s lips quivered as he stared at the fallen food on Kris’ chest. His cock throbbed heavily down below, turned on even more by Kris’ uncharacteristic permissiveness. He had always wanted to do this, and couldn’t believe he finally had his chance!

He noticed a rather large chip resting comfortably on Kris’ pec. His head leaned towards it, and, with his gaze locked with Kris’, he gingerly ate the chip right off the unaware jock’s chest, munching on it quietly.

He felt a rush throughout his whole body. The taste of barbecue and salt greeted his tastebuds, but the fact it had been removed from Kris’ body by his own mouth electrified him. He felt emboldened, his cock growing even more in his underwear. His head plunged forward, unable to contain himself, as he let his lips sink onto Kris’ entire pec, swallowing up the surrounding crumbs in the area. His lips slid along the surface, causing his eyelids to flutter as the delectable taste of Kris’ skin filled his senses.

“Fuck me,” Kris said in disgust. Yet, he didn’t move in his seat. His brain accepted the ‘punishment’ he was receiving, though ordinarily he would’ve tossed Melvin onto his backside by now.

Melvin, however, felt consumed with desire, his cock raging below. His lips smacked on Kris’ pec, sometimes taking a moment to chew the loose bits of food in his mouth. His tongue swirled around Kris’ nipple, causing it to get hard, while Kris grunted uncomfortably. He let his fingers squeeze the other pec, plumping up the muscle, while his tongue hounded the other one, the salty and sweet taste of the chips complementing the taste of Kris’ body.

He gently bit into Kris’ chest next, causing the jock to moan and swear at him, but he was so horny he didn’t care. He ate the chips right off his skin first, then chewed on the nipple hungrily, enjoying the strange, sweet and salty taste, erotic and delicious.

“Christ, dude, the fuck are you doing?”

“Gotta...pay the...price….bruh…”

He never used the word ‘bruh’, but it amused him to do so. Kris squirmed in his seat as Melvin continued to bite and lick his chest, crumbs disappearing one by one. He turned his attention to the other nipple and licked it to hardness, moaning with pleasure, enjoying the salty taste on his lips. He licked his lips, then gently bit into the muscled area, as if he were taking the first bite into some luscious peach, causing Kris to howl. Then he treated the nipple to the same service, swirling his tongue around it lasciviously, before gently nibbling on it as if it were a piece of jerky. Kris grit his teeth, but endured, while Melvin spoiled himself at his expense.

But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. His hunger caused him to lick the rest of his torso, moving down to his muscled abs, chasing any stray crumbs he could find. He gnawed on the ridges of Kris’ stomach, causing him to shriek again. Kris swore even more, but Melvin noticed he didn’t kick him off at all; he knew he could get away with anything he wanted to at that point. He licked the ridges of his abs, his cock leaking profusely in his jeans, then moved up to the chest again, licking a pathway up to the arms.

He had cleaned up most of the food by now off the torso, but his hunger wasn’t sated. He moved to Kris’ armpit.

“Oh come on. Why the armpit?” Kris said. Melvin explained that he was simply following through with the price that was owed him. Kris reluctantly gave in, his dark eyes shooting daggers at Melvin.

Melvin pinned his arm up against the couch, then licked the newly exposed armpit, basking in the sweaty, musky taste, even finding a few morsels that had fallen there, straight from Kris’ chest. He licked the area ravenously, to Kris’ disgust, a far different flavor than the one at his chest, but one that was just as tantalizing. The jock’s natural scent and deodorant aroma was a treat for him, one that he spent several moments indulging in, lick after lick. He then moved to the triceps. He licked Kris’ triceps while Kris scowled at him, taking great pleasure in feeling the smooth, yet bulging ridges of his underarm; his tongue moved up and licked the biceps as well, his lips smacking and plump, leaving red marks all across the jock’s skin.

“You done yet?” Kris said.

Melvin shook his head. He licked his way across Kris’ broad shoulders to the other arm, where he sucked and groped at his arm muscles, sating his hunger just a little bit more, then forced Kris to expose his pit. Once again, he went after Kris’ tender underarm area, collecting a whole new layer of musk and tastiness on his tongue, while Kris looked on with annoyance. Melvin felt like his cock was bursting. He spent several moments licking the area, building up even more lust, before allowing Kris to drop his arm.

“Now are you finished? You fucking weirdo.”

Melvin wiped his mouth, catching a few breaths. “No. The payment came up a little...short.”

Kris rolled his eyes. “What else you need?”

“Kiss me.” 

Kris’ eyes widened in shock, but his brain wouldn’t let him deny Melvin’s request. His fingers curled into fists, and he shook his head in a threatening manner, but Aaron’s control was unassailable. They shared a tense moment before he finally agreed to it, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t be like that,” Melvin said, wiping the crumbs from his own face. “I’m just trying to keep this place nice and clean.”

“Whatever.”

Melvin laughed, then grabbed the back of Kris’ head, and plunged in. He moaned when their lips made contact, while his tongue invaded the mouth. He noticed Kris scowling, which amused him: he enjoyed delivering the taste of his own body back to the jock, as the taste of Kris’ body and barbecue flavored chips still lingered on the tip of his tongue. Kris looked uncomfortable throughout the entire encounter, while Melvin made out passionately with him, gasping for breath at times from how horny he was, his body writhing. He was so turned on from the kissing, and the thought of Kris tasting himself indirectly through his tongue, that he ended up cumming in his jeans. His body trembled as he released, yet his lips remained locked on Kris, forcing him to keep up with him. 

Melvin finally got off, and Kris wiped his mouth with his arm. His chest was glossy with saliva, but, finally, spotless. He noticed the wet spot at Melvin’s crotch and was even more repulsed.

“Now we’re done,” Melvin said breathlessly. He grinned then left Kris alone in the living room, and returned to his own room. He was in disbelief at what he had just accomplished. He was so excited he even texted his friend about it, who was glad he was finally getting a bit of revenge on the messy jock. 

The Douchebag Jar actually worked! And if he could get away with eating scraps from Kris’ body and making out with him, what else could he do to him during his stay? He had the next few days to entertain himself, and decided to take it slow.

The next time he saw Kris was later on in the evening, a few hours later.

He was shirtless again, but this time, his socked feet were on the coffee table while he watched a game. He sipped on a beer and didn’t even comment on Melvin’s presence. Melvin turned off the TV.

“The fuck?”

“Excuse me,” Melvin said, standing in front of the blackened display, “but I see another Douchebag Jar violation.”

Kris glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where?”

Melvin pointed to Kris’ socked feet on the table. Kris looked upset.

“I don’t got any money on me.”

“That’s okay. Stay right there, this won’t take long.”

“Man, are you gonna mess with me again?”

“You gotta pay the price, Kris. It’s what we agreed to.”

Kris swore again, but did as he was told and remained in his seat—allowing Melvin to kneel right in front of his socked soles.

He took a moment to savor the sight before him: two big socked size twelves sitting innocently on the table, teasing him with their sexy arches and toe length, the outlines looking utterly amazing. He caught a glimpse of Kris’ annoyed face between his feet, which made him chuckle. It served the messy fucker right!

He let his hands run along the jock’s socked feet, taking in their heft, his cock once again rising. The smell wafted into his nose, awakening his senses, putting him on edge. His mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to get those socks off!

He let his face run along the edges of Kris’ soles first, causing him to voice his disgust. He even felt his toes wiggle in his socks, and yet, Kris was still sitting there, putting up with his ‘punishment’, just as he was ordered.

Melvin pulled off a sock, and was floored. He knew what Kris’ feet looked like from their time together; he had fantasized about them often. But to be this close to them! He gazed up and down the wide, perfect sole, the incredible arch, the amazing toes. He pulled off the other sock, and was greeted with the foot’s partner, two perfect snacks just begging to be devoured by him. His cock was fully rigid and ready to go, despite the grumpy expression on Kris’ face.

He let his face run along the length of both feet again, warming himself up even more, not at all put off by Kris’ jeers and impatient tongue clicks. The jock’s feet were so warm and soft, so perfect, just like the rest of his body. There was a tangy, wonderful scent emanating from them, which drove Melvin even more wild.

He opened his mouth, and when his tongue made contact, his entire body shuddered.

“Fuckin’ nasty,” Kris said, folding his arms and looking away. Melvin didn’t care. The jock’s feet were a dream! His tongue licked up and down the soles, his cock throbbing heavily from the taste and texture. He took turns licking each sole, his neck craning up and down while his tongue lapped away furiously. Sometimes Kris would wiggle or spread his toes in revulsion, but it only heated Melvin’s loins even more. He couldn’t wait to get at those next!

He put Kris’ feet on top of each other, ignoring his protests the same way Kris ignored his own about cleaning up. Then, he allowed himself to take long, luxurious swipes right up both soles, causing them to tense, his own cock leaking profusely. He pressed his face against them and nuzzled his nose against the arches, taking in more of the scent, his mouth taking its turn from time to time to take in more of that authentic jock-boy taste.

He placed both feet side by side again, then brought the toes to his face. Kris flexed his toes back, which was the best he could do to avoid him, but Melvin held him down firmly anyways, feeling a slight rush of power at having so much control over the jock. He sighed happily as he let his nose run along the bottoms of all ten toes, breathing in their rich scent, enjoying the way they twitched and moved around.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Kristopher said. “This is some sick shit, bruh.”

“That’s funny, I used to say the same thing about your personal habits.”

Melvin let his tongue have a taste of Kris’ amazing toes, then moaned in satisfaction: Kris’ feet were delicious by themselves, but the toes had an even better flavor, and the jock’s reactions were a wonderful added bonus.

His tongue ran all over the toes, spreading them apart, allowing him to enjoy them even more. He opened his mouth and started sucking on them, fulfilling a fantasy he had harbored the entire time he used to live with Kris, his cock shooting out precum as soon as he tasted them. 

He moaned breathlessly as he sucked toe after toe, spending a few moments with each one, his head bobbing up and down while his fingers pressed into the soles. Kris’ toes writhed inside his mouth, clenching futilely at times, yet he was powerless to Melvin’s assault. The jock could barely look anymore, and he hated the feeling of it. Yet, he felt ‘obligated’ by some strange compulsion regardless, though he couldn’t understand why.

Melvin had worked himself into a frenzy, and needed to get some release. Everything about Kris’ feet had fulfilled his deepest fantasies. He whipped out his cock (noting Kris’ even more extreme reactions), then daringly started rubbing them across his soles, squirting his precum all over it.

“Are you fucking serious? What the fuck?” Kris said.

“You only brought this on yourself, Kris. Time to collect the rest of your fine!”

He grabbed Kris’ feet and let his cock rub against the soles, moaning happily while his shaft quivered in his hand. He anointed the bottoms of his toes with precum, ensuring that it got between them, delighting in the way Kris spread them apart from shock, which only made delivering his precum easier.

At last, he grabbed the jock’s big feet and wedged his cock between them. Kris covered his face, while Melvin took his wet and slick, throbbing, veiny cock, and began moving in and out between the tight space between the jock’s soles. Kris constantly swore, yet he remained powerless, his face flinching. He knew what he had to do. The price had to be paid.

Melvin sighed and moaned breathlessly, working his cock up more and more, his balls ready to burst. He couldn’t believe he was actually fucking Kristopher’s feet, and every thrust felt incredibly satisfying, his cock thrilled by the sensations running through it. The fact that Kris hated it made it even more enjoyable, and the expression on his face was priceless. He thrust harder and harder, and shouted after one final, bigger thrust, cumming at last, and releasing copious amounts of his jizz all over Kris’ feet and legs. The jock groaned in disgust, and when Melvin was finished, he pulled away, leaving the jock’s feet a cum-covered mess. It was a mess that, for once, he was proud of.

He grabbed Kris’ socks.

“What are you doing with my socks? Hey, wait!”

Melvin started putting the socks back on Kris’ feet, slapping his hands away whenever he tried to stop him.

“This is the last thing, promise.” He covered them back up, and loved how they immediately began to dampen from the new layer of cum on Kris’ soles and toes.

“What the fuck, bruh?”

“I want you to wear these the rest of the night. Then you can consider your infraction paid for.”

“But I’m going out with the bros later tonight!”

“Well...make sure you take a shower when you get back.” He winked, then left, leaving Kris feeling even more agitated and confused.

Kris left for the rest of the night in a sour mood, but Melvin noticed he did his best not to make any more offenses. Melvin spent the rest of the evening relaxing, overjoyed with what he had accomplished on the first day alone, his cock taking a much needed break.

The next day, he woke up to find Kris wasn’t anywhere to be found. He prepared breakfast for himself, and was surprised to find Kris enter through the front door.

“Hey,” he said. Kris ignored him again. He looked like he had just worked out. He was in gym clothes, and they looked damp.

However, Melvin noticed he started undressing right in the hallway. He watched as he took off his socks and shoes, then the rest of his clothes, leaving them strewn all over the floor, a particularly nasty habit he used to indulge in back when they lived together.

But this time, there would be no futile pleading with him. Kris got down to his jockstrap, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Melvin stopped him by blocking him in the hall.

“Uh, move?” Kris said. Melvin took a moment to observe Kris’ gorgeous body, his beautiful ass sticking out behind him in all its bare glory, his strap bulging with meat.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Clothes all over the floor? Oh yeah, you need to pay the Douchebag Jar, no exceptions.”

Kris was in disbelief. “Are you serious? Do I look like I got my fucking wallet on me?”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate. Guess that means you’ll have to pay another way. You can meet me on the couch.”

Melvin walked past him. Kris hit the wall with his fist, but felt compelled to do as Melvin said anyways. Melvin was already seated in the living room when he entered it, a big, excited grin on his face.

He couldn’t wait to dole out the next ‘punishment’, especially with Kris already dressed for the occasion. The jock stood in front of the TV, his jock strap meeting Melvin’s eye level, his arms folded.

“What now?” he said. “Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m doing this shit, this is so unlike me.”

Melvin smiled.

“I want you to come over here and turn around. I’m gonna spank you, maybe rim you a bit, finger fuck you, then fuck you for real. What do you say to that?”

Melvin loved the outrage on Kris’ face, but he knew the jock couldn’t deny him in any way whatsoever.

And he was right.

“Fine. Do it. Fuck this shit, man. I swear I’m moving out the first chance I get!”

Melvin motioned for him to approach him, then turned him around, allowing him a fuller glimpse of Kris’ amazing booty. His own cock was ready, once again, and his mouth was salivating. 

“Bend over.”

Kris sucked in his lips, and felt the sudden urge to murder Melvin, but it was abated by Aaron’s brainwashing. He did as he was told, causing his ass to pop out even more towards his horny roommate.

Melvin let his hands rove around Kris’ buttocks, feeling that familiar, and totally welcome, rush of power. He found Kris’ ass was just as perfect as the rest of his body, rotund, juicy, and just begging to be fucked.

He slapped the jock’s cheeks, causing him to yell out. 

He continued to spank him, taking turns with each buttcheek, loving the fresh bloom of color that appeared on it. He enjoyed the way each buttock jiggled, as well as the very satisfying thwap sound, and his spanking got more and more intense, the more he recalled just how much of an ass Kristopher had been to him in the past.

Kris swore louder and louder, and his ass turned bright red from the frequent smacking. Melvin’s cock was immediately turned on by it all, signaling it was time to take Kris’ ‘punishment’ to the next level.

He pulled the jock strap down, and when Kris tried to protest, he simply handwaved it away, claiming the necessity of payment, while Kris grumbled under his breath.

Melvin pulled the jockstrap down, spotting Kris’ cock hanging between his legs. He would get to that some other time, but for now, he wanted to throw himself to the joy that was Kris’ ass.

He spread the cheeks apart, and was met with a musky, moist crack, a little ripe from the workout, but undeniably sexy. He pushed his face forward and took in even more of the sight and scent, his cock shuddering uncontrollably from it, while Kris winced and sweated from nervousness.

Melvin’s tongue extended, and he moaned gleefully at the rich taste that filled his senses. Kris groaned and shuddered, yet maintained position, as Melvin began to lick up and down his crack, holding onto his cheeks, his fingers digging into the juicy fat. He loved having the jock in such a compromising position; it was not only incredibly hot, but also humiliating to Kris, which he found highly amusing. His tongue lapped up the area, his own body turned on even more by Kris’ shudders and groans.

He let his tongue swirl around the hole, the taste far more rich there, noting how it clenched from nervousness.

“Relax, Kris, you’re not in prison or anything. It’s just me.” Melvin smiled mischievously.

“I might as well be in prison, you fucking asshole! Fuck you, Melvin.”

Melvin laughed and continued to rim Kris voraciously. His lips turned to the buttocks themselves, and he wiped them with his tongue, covering the surface wholly. Kris winced and griped as Melvin’s tongue stung his newly sensitive, reddened buttocks, but Melvin didn’t stop regardless.

When he was finished with licking and worship, it was time to give his fingers a go. He let his fingers trail down Kris’ moist crack softly and gently, causing him to feel even more nervous. His fingers ran across his plump buttocks playfully, their delicate motions making Kris feel more and more threatened.

“You’re not going to put those in, you know...”

“What do you think, dumbass?” Melvin smiled at his own uncharacteristic reply. He hardly ever cursed at anyone like that! But he couldn’t help himself. It was so much fun having Kris at his mercy!

Kris screamed when he felt Melvin’s finger poke at his hole.

“I haven’t even got inside yet,” Melvin said.

Kris whimpered, begging Melvin to not go through with it, even promising to clean up after himself later, which surprised Melvin. He had never known Kris to be such a wuss, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

He finally jabbed his finger inside. Kris let out a high pitched shriek.

“Now I’m inside you.” Melvin laughed as his finger dug deeper into Kris’ throbbing hole. Kris wanted to escape, to attack, but Aaron’s conditioning made sure he stayed put, to take his punishment right in the ass, quite literally in this case.

Melvin let his single finger burrow into the jock’s hole, further and further, taking as much liberty as he could, and when he had stretched him enough, he forced a second finger inside. Kris howled, while Melvin laughed, his cock throbbing even more, every finger and push inside the jock feeding his cock’s hunger bit by bit.

He fucked and stretched his hole like cotton candy being spun, and even managed to get a third finger inside, right up to the knuckle. He kept it there, enjoying the feel of Kris’ insides, yet another intimate body part he never thought he’d be acquainted with. Kris was teary eyed, and cursing by the second, yet his cock was strangely getting hard from the forced stimulation. Melvin allowed his fingers to push back and forth gently, spreading the jock’s entry point wider, while simultaneously also causing Kris’ cock to tent. The sight of it disappeared from view, and that’s when Melvin knew Kris was hard.

“Wow, you’re hard? Maybe you’re gay too.”

“Shut up!” Kris said, whimpering. He felt tense from the agony of having fingers up his ass, as well as the humiliation at being hard from it.

Melvin was ready. He pulled his fingers out, giving Kris some temporary relief, then stood up and got his own cock out. His cock throbbed heavily in his hand, and he gave himself a few strokes as he readied to put it inside Kris’ newly minted hole.

He let his cockhead swirl around Kris’ hole first, drops of precum wetting it even more.

“You fucking asshole….I can’t believe I’m letting you do this!”

Melvin laughed, while Kris continued to swear at him, but he stopped Kris’ protests by sticking his cockhead inside his hole, causing him to moan instead. Melvin spent several moments enjoying the feel of having made it inside, an accomplishment he took a somewhat twisted sense of pride in.

He sighed dreamily, preparing himself for something he always wanted to do: to fuck Kris in his ass.

He once again recalled the many times he wanted to do so in the past: all those times of agitation, frustration, all the times Kris laughed in his face. And then, with one fell swoop, he thrust as hard as he could inside the jock, violently, mercilessly.

Kris shouted and almost keeled over from the impact, but his cock reacted with joy. They both moaned as Melvin held the position, his cock throbbing against Kris’ warm insides, wanting more and more.

He delivered several smaller thrusts, gasping with pleasure and disbelief, both of their cocks throbbing intensely. He pulled away, leaving only the head in, then rammed Kris once again, all at once, causing both of them to moan even louder.

From there, it was a mix of smaller and medium sized thrusts. Both of them were writhing and moaning breathlessly, sweating profusely, while Melvin pistoned in and out, taking his roommate for a ride. His thrusts got shorter and faster. Melvin grit his teeth, and his balls swelled, as he finally came inside the jock, unable to withhold himself any longer. Kris shouted a short while after, cumming himself.

Melvin pulled out, and was happy to see his cum bubble out of Kris’ hole, a work of art. Sure, the living room was messier with all the cum all over it, but he didn’t care; he’d clean it up himself even! He was just grateful for the experience overall.

Kris, on the other hand, could barely walk, and hobbled away, naked and wet.

“Hope you enjoy your shower,” Melvin said with a cheeky grin.

Kris was far too upset to even say anything back, and wandered off, his lips pursed. He hated the feeling of the jizz sliding down his thighs, and his insides felt like they were burning. On the other hand, it had all felt earth shatteringly good, enough for him to cum twice from it, a fact he didn’t dare share with his roommate.

Melvin cleaned up, then retired to his room for the rest of the day, far too spent to play anymore. He only had one day left with Kris, but for now he needed a break!

The next day, Kris made no mention at all of his ‘punishments’, and the Douchebag Jar even made a couple of actual dollars throughout the day. It seemed Kris was being mindful of his own behavior. Melvin spent the entire day in, and noticed his roommate carefully avoiding some of his usual shenanigans, which amused him.

Kris grabbed a beer, and, while heading back to his room, opened it. It foamed and spilled onto the floor. 

“You just spilled beer all over the place, Kris.”

“Fuck.” Kris searched his pockets. He patted them down, becoming more and more upset. “Oh come on, I know I had a dollar in here somewhere!”

“Sorry, but...you know what that means.” Melvin got up from the couch, ready to collect.

“No way, bro. I know I have some money on me. Just give me a second and I’ll get my wallet, and….”

Melvin shook his head. “Sorry, but the rules are the rules. Time to pay up.”

Kris shut his eyes in frustration, then angrily placed his beer on a nearby table. “How do I pay it off this time? Man, fuck this Douchebag Jar crap!”

“We’ll just keep it simple. A blowjob will do.”

“A what?!”

“You heard me.”

Kris stood there angrily, his mind stewing with all sorts of things he’d like to do Melvin, and none of them involved pleasure. However, he had no choice but to cave in to his fussy roommate’s demands.

“I’ve never blown a guy before.”

“First time for everything.” A grin spread across Melvin’s face as Kris fell to his knees, right on top of the small mess he had made on the carpet.

Melvin hastily brought his cock out, then ordered Kris to lick it to hardness. Kris winced, but did as he was told, gingerly moving his head back and forth as he brought Melvin’s cock to life. Melvin loved his reactions. He looked like some kid that was being forced to eat his vegetables, and couldn’t wait to stuff even more down his ungrateful throat.

It didn’t take long for him to get hard. Getting sucked off by a straight boy, especially one as hot as Kris, was incredibly entertaining, and felt overwhelmingly wonderful. When his cock was rock hard, he told Kris to lick his shaft. Kris scoffed, but Melvin didn’t relent, forcing him to do it anyway. He began craning his neck, doing his best to service Melvin’s cock and struggling, amusing Melvin as well as turning him on further.

He stopped Kris’ clumsy dick licking, then let his cockhead rub against Kris’ lips. Kris groaned and his face soured, but he stayed in position despite himself, even as Melvin’s precum made his lips glossy. 

“Open up,” Melvin said.

Kris tried with all his might to resist, but he just couldn’t do it. He let out a frustrated cry, then his jaw opened, and then, Melvin was inside his face. Melvin’s eyelids fluttered as he sank inside his messy roommate, his hands running through Kris’ fauxhawk.

He loved the sight of Kris’ displeased expression, his cheeks bulging with his cock. He loved the feel of his tongue on his rod, which slowly pistoned in and out, much gentler than the forceful ass fucking he had delivered the day before.

He enjoyed the slow, steady rhythm, slowly edging deeper and deeper, further and further down Kris’ mouth….and then started to pick up the pace. Kris gagged, even looking up in shock, but Melvin only tightened his hold. Once again, he felt a rush of power and was more than happy to punish Kris for his past behavior, driving his dick further down his mouth until he was fucking his throat. Kris gagging became more pronounced, his eyes watered, and his nose started to run, while Melvin clutched his hair tightly, pulling it from his scalp. 

He started skullfucking Kris, forcing his head to move rapidly against his pelvis, his nose hitting his skin. Melvin moaned and gasped, the whites of his eyes showing as he surrendered to the immense pleasure, the joy of finally giving Kris what he truly deserved. He came, filling Kris’ throat with his jizz, causing him to gag and even cry. 

He pulled out, and his jizz fell onto the carpet, mixing with the beer stains on the carpet and making an even bigger mess. Kris collected himself, coughing and retching, holding his throat, his face red and his chin dripping with cum.

“Don’t forget to clean that all up,” Melvin said, leaving to the restroom to freshen up after his hearty blowjob. 

The day continued without a hitch. Kris even cleaned up after himself, including the mess from their blowjob earlier. Now that Melvin was rested again, he was ready for more. He knew he only had a couple hours left with Kris. While he was more than satisfied with his session so far, he was hoping to at least catch him in the wrong one more time before he took off good.

He got his chance. Kris was getting ready for a shower for a date later that night. Melvin knew that, once he left, he would never see him again (unless he paid for it, of course). Kristopher was on the phone, talking to his latest female conquest, and was getting ready for a shower—but was in nothing but his underwear.

When he came to the living room to grab a snack, Melvin cleared his throat.

Kris looked at him with an annoyed expression, and covered the speaker on his phone. “What?” he said in a hushed voice.

Melvin pointed his gaze towards Kris’ underwear. 

“So what?” Kris said in whispers. “I’m not making a mess, am I?”

“Walking around in your underwear is still a violation.”

Kris got louder. “I thought walking in a jockstrap was a violation, when the hell did underwear become a bad thing?”

Melvin wouldn’t hear it. “Sorry, but this is an infraction, and you need to pay up.”

Kris’ face was shocked. “I don’t have any money on me, I’m on the phone! Have a fucking care, would you?”

Melvin smiled to himself. How many times had he made that exact same plea in the past?

But this time was different. He wouldn’t budge.

Kris shook his head angrily. “Sorry,” he said to the girl on the phone, “I’ll have to call you back.”

“No, wait!” Melvin said. “Stay on the line. This will be part of your payment.”

Kris was puzzled. Melvin explained he wanted to give Kris a blowjob this time—while he remained on the phone.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Kris whispered.

“No. Just horny,” Melvin said bluntly. “Plus, I find this amusing. Stay on the line. This won’t take long.”

Kris was speechless as Melvin got to his knees. He encouraged him to keep talking, even as he pulled his waistband down, revealing his big floppy cock.

Finally! He had been so busy with the rest of Kristopher’s beautiful body the last couple days he never had a chance to acquaint himself with his cock, one-on-one. Now it was time.

“Yeah,” Kris said nervously on the phone, “I’m uh...I’m still here, baby.”

Melvin began stroking Kris’ cock as he talked to his latest date. It grew stiff by the second, throbbing with every pull on it, every squeeze heating it up. Kris leaned back on the wall as Melvin stroked him to a fat erection.

“Yeah babe...we can go out to the beach l-later and...ohhh gawd….what? N-nothing it’s...mmmm….w-what are you talking about...I’m fine!”

Kris sucked his lips in, as Melvin began licking his cock, taking his time to indulge in the taste. It was everything he ever dreamed about when it came to Kris’ cock, musky, manly, hard as steel. Kris’ knees wobbled as Melvin serviced him, the veins throbbing rapidly in his shaft.

He hissed. “No, you’re the only one I’m talking to right now, babe, I swear! It’s just….oh gawd….ohhhhh…fuck...”

Melvin took Kris inside his mouth and began sucking him hungrily. He gazed up at the jock as he whimpered helplessly, and could hear the girl on the phone growing more confused...and angry.

He smiled as he sucked on Kris’ cock further, causing him to grow more restless as his head bobbed back and forth, the jock even moaning at times.

“N-no, I’m not...not fucking another girl right now at all! You crazy? You sound like my stupid roommate M-mel...oh fuck...mmmmmm….Melvin...ahh!”

Melvin almost laughed, his cheeks bulging with Kris’ cock. He tasted his precum, and increased his sucking, doing his best to draw more and more out of the captured jock. His sucking became heavier and more rapid, rendering Kris incoherent. Kris’ eyes rolled up and he dropped his phone, as he moaned louder and louder, while Melvin sucked him like a leech. Finally, the jock exploded, his cries spreading across the living room. A smile managed to spread across his face, but was immediately dispelled when he realized his call had ended.

“Aw shit,” he said. He pulled out his cock from Melvin’s mouth, grabbed his phone, then returned to his room, making several attempts to reach his date again.

“You fucking asshole, Melvin!” He yelled, right before he slammed the door.

Melvin wiped his mouth, the taste of cum still fresh inside it. As far as he was concerned, the session was officially over.

Kris finally ended up leaving later in the evening, taking his gym bag of stuff with him, and Melvin watched him drive away through the window. He returned to the living room, and picked up the Douchebag Jar. It seemed he had made five bucks in total over the last three days, which meant Kris had cleaned up after himself exactly that amount of times. It was five times more than he ever did in the past. He took the money out, and put the jar away, and couldn’t wait to use it once again. He was sure it wasn’t the last time he’d run into his douche of a roommate, and he’d have his jar ready for him.

[peachymilkandcream]

My Prize|Part 5|Viking Levi x Evelyn

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, big age difference, kidnapping, slavery, violence, power imbalance, implied somnophilia, forced pregnancies, mind breaking, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, forced exhibitionism, sexual coercion, blackmail, etc.

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

It was true that all Levi needed in life was someone to share in this burden of living. Up until now he had been alone, unable to find a reason to keep going throughout his days. What was the purpose in plunder and death, of scavenging and providing if you had no one to do it for?

Evelyn was his reason to keep going. She was there to give him something to strive for. As a woman, she needed him to take care of her, and he a purpose as a man with someone to provide for. It was comforting coming home to a cottage with dinner on the table and a warm body to hold during the chilly nights.

He liked to believe she had gotten used to him. At first there was a struggle, understandably so with how he had taken her, but now, now there was a unspoken peace between them. She seemed content enough, if not a little sadden that she had left her previous life entirely behind. But that was what it meant to cleave to a man, to forsake all others and cling to the man designed for you.

And he was designed for her.

She was soft and gentle, taking the weight of the world off his shoulders for just a little while. Always thankful and appreciative when he brought her back something for them. Whether it was a sack of flour or ribbons for her unruly mane. She was happy. They were happy.

For the first time in years he had been able to sleep in peace without the night terrors choking him of precious rest. He could sleep like the dead with a wife by his side to make sure he didn't sleep the next day away either. And while they weren't officially wed, he considered that they were. They acted like it, and a few spouted words from a priest didn't hold much weight in his mind.

That night, like any other ended the same. A few blissful moments of pleasure before a lazy arm around her brought him to deep sleep. Everything perfect in the world.

Until his door was broken in.

Levi leapt from his bed to find that Evelyn was no longer there. Had she gone to get help? Been taken? He had to save her, he couldn't loose this precious life he had constructed for himself now. He had just started to get attached to it, and now it was being taken from his arms.

He wouldn't go down without a fight. He reached for his sword placed directly under the bed for safe keeping before charging his attackers.

In a fury he swung his blade, injuring some and feeling the wet thud of metal cutting through flesh and bone. Rage fueled him when the thought of these men taking Evelyn and doing what he had done so many months ago to her.

While he was clearly more skilled then the others the sheer number quickly put him at a disadvantage. He was getting tired as they just kept coming. Some of them were able to swing back and nearly miss him. Levi was heavy with sleep and disoriented, caught by surprise and further giving his enemies the upper hand.

They finally overwhelmed him, kicking and beating him under he couldn't get up to his feet. Taking pride in hurling insults at him and beating his body.

When they were done they hauled his broken body out of the cottage to where a group of men surrounded his home with torches and angry looks in their eyes riddled with amusement at the condition of their foe.

His eye was beginning to swell but Evelyn stood beside his most hated enemy. At first he believed she had betrayed him, but the horrified look in her eye made him think otherwise. She was horrified of his condition, and he was horrified that she could see him in such a weakened and humiliating state.

Erwin stood before him with a gleam in his eye.

"So. Levi. It seems we meet again."

"Erwin you bastard, I claimed her fair and square, leave us now!"

He chuckles. "Oh you fool. Sneaking in the night isn't fair and square. You're a thief, no more than a common criminal. And if I had any sense I'd execute you like one."

Much to the surprise of both men Evelyn drops to her knees in front of Erwin.

"Please I'm begging you Erwin, don't kill him. I know he has wronged you, but for my sake do not do this thing-" Panic was gripping her. What Levi didn't know was that she believed Erwin had gone back on his promise from earlier, but what he did know is that his wicked and cold heart melted at her devotion.

Another laugh. "There there my pet. I won't kill the man who has muddled your mind with his barbarian ways of breaking a person's will. But he must pay for the personal damage he has caused me."

Erwin lifts Evelyn by the arm and thrusts her into the hands of his men, who hold her tightly.

"Let her go you filthy dog! This is between you and me!" Levi struggles, earning him another punch to the gut.

Erwin kneels down to his level. "I don't think you understand what's happening here. I will mutilate you and hope that you die of your injuries. While Evelyn and I return home where we'll be wed, where I'll make it my life's mission to cleanse her with my seed from whatever hold you've put on her."

Levi keeps quiet but his look makes a few men loose their nerve, backing away slightly.

Not Erwin. He takes two of Levi's fingers in his hands, bending them until an audible crack is heard. And while Levi lets out a grunt of pain and anger, he doesn't give Erwin the satisfaction of hearing him in distress.

"That could get infected if not taken care of properly."

Without another word he pulls out a small knife and proceeds to saw the two damaged fingers off, earning more vocal cries of pain.

When he's done Erwin takes his thumbs, starting to press them into the eyes of his enemy. However Levi breaks free from the grip on his hands and fights back, trying to keep Erwin's hands at bay. While his one hand is able to match him in strength, his injured one is slippery with blood and weak, drastically failing until his sight in that eye is taken from him.

"Great Leader! Someone's coming!"

It could be the law keepers of this land, with which Erwin had a muddy past that could be revealed this night, messing with all of his plans.

"We depart. Leave the swine for dead, and make sure my bride boards safely."

"You can't just leave him- Levi!" She calls to the broken man clutching his wounds.

Erwin doesn't give her a choice, his men making a quick departure on their ship before authorities can arrive. They got what they came for, best to leave before it was too late.

He looks back at the shore as it slowly shrinks.

"Farwell Levi. It's time you admit you lost. May you die peacefully."

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 7: choice & 8: simple

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 7: choice & 8: simple

Time to get Iriel out of Vivec! Addhiranirr gets a cameo, because she's right there in the Underworks, and she can tell Iriel about Tsiya in Balmora, which is where I actually want him to end up. This caused me a different problem, later, when Iriel was supposed to locate her as part of the main quest, and I realised I was going to have to do something drastic to avoid having the exact same Underworks scene happen twice.

Addhiranirr would hate to cheat you.

Iriel's Sugar Period meant that I ended up writing a multitude of different Khajiit characters, in these early chapters. Based on ingame dialogue, Khajiiti speech patterns vary, with some using regular first person "I/me/my/etc" for themselves. Others use third person, but also with variation as to whether they referred to themselves with their names, or as "this one". It also varies whether they say "you", or use third person in place of second, as well.

For now, I was mostly trying to imitate the ingame dialogue of whichever character I was writing, but later I speculated more about what the different uses of grammar implied, in Khajiiti culture.

Addhiranirr is a quest NPC, so she has a fair amount of canon dialogue, where her personality really comes across - I can't take credit for her! She's very dry and funny, and I tried to write her in keeping with that.

He found the long-dead corpse of an elf, lying half-submerged in filth.

The quest to find Moroni Uvelas' husband actually has him as a live corprus stalker that the player has to kill, but I let Iriel off easy, for once...

“I did kill her, don’t you believe me? She… she attacked me, and I couldn’t get away, I… I… pushed fire into her… until she… she…”

..because I wanted killing the Sixth House Cultist to be the traumatic bit, instead. Because it gives Iriel a stronger reason to flee Vivec.

Please judge me for the thing I'm doing here of skipping over a fight scene, and moving right to a conversation about it, instead. This is incredibly lazy of me, but I wasn't trying to do hard things, yet. Later, I would read writing advice about how fight scenes worked, and make more effort in that direction, but not for a while, yet.

I'm with Iriel, here, by the way: the random canalworks house with the Sixth House cultists in it is fucking horrifying, and I would not want to stay anywhere near it. You think it's gonna be just another of the endless little slum-dwellings you're churning through for valuables, but the second you go in, it's just RED and WRONG and UGH and it only makes it worse that nobody else around seems to know or care! I hate it so much, it's so good.

(x)

He had two choices, as he saw them. He could stay in Vivec, take Dro'Zaymar’s advice and kick moon sugar.

Is Iriel right that he had a choice, here? Would he really have fixed his life up and quit drugs, if only he hadn't been startled by a cultist? No, of course not. Even if sheer lack of sugar access forced him clean for a while, it wouldn't have lasted, and might in itself have pushed him towards Balmora, soon enough. He'd still have gone via the Mages Guild, since guild teleportation is the easiest way. Maybe he'd tell himself he was joining the Mages Guild and transferring to the Balmora branch for career reasons, when really, he just knew he could get a supply there.

“This one knows. He just wishes for Iriel to take care of himself.” The Khajiiti man leaned forwards, and licked Ire’s cheek gently.

Later, Iriel says of Dro'Zaymar: "I wanted to thank him for being the first person I encountered in Morrowind who was simply, unselfishly, kind to me. He had no reason to be, and I did nothing but disappoint him, but he was."

Iriel isn't much used to people being kind to him without some ulterior motive, so it takes a while for him to recognise Dro'Zaymar's behaviour for what it was. Ire knows that leveraging pathetic expressions might sometimes work to gain a specific favour, but in his experience, it doesn't result in long-term benefits. Usually, what happens is people find his weakness distasteful, and use it against him. If they speak softly to him, then, like Socucius in the Census Office, it's only because they're trying to manipulate him into agreeing to something against his interests.

For the record, despite the Khajiiti equivalent of a kiss on the cheek, I don't think Dro'Zaymar's intentions towards Ire were ever anything but platonic, which was part of what Iriel found so confusing. Perhaps his awkward pass was an attempt to drag the Khajiit's otherwise unfathomable toleration of him into an intelligible framework.

Ire's not very good with kindness, either giving or receiving. It's so bound up with vulnerability, weakness, pity... shame, again. This obviously has terrible consequences for his relationships with other people, and his struggle to navigate these issues takes up a lot of the fic. If Dro'Zaymar is Ire's first experience of an interpersonal relationship since leaving jail, then the most salient thing about it is that he doesn't even understand what it was, until months afterwards. The idea that you might see someone in pain, and want to help them without simultaneously despising them for needing it? This does not, at the time, compute.

On to Chapter 8, and the Mages Guild.

A grey-haired Dunmeri woman sized Iriel up critically

Altmeri privilege at work! Because nothing else explains how Iriel still manages to come across as someone who might be good at magic, despite his current... everything else about him.

While any Morrowind player character can practice spells and quickly improve their magical skills, we have to assume for our narrative sanity that magical power is not something most people have access to without great natural skill, and/or years of dedicated training. Altmer, being innately sensitive to it, and more easily able to store magical power, have it easier than most.

“Hello, my dear,” she said brightly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you strike me as someone with magical interests.

The Vvardenfell Mages Guild is kind of a scam, right? A protection racket - sign up and pay them guild dues, in return for... not being killed by the Mages Guild for unsanctioned magery? Hard to say how much of it is just Ranis Athrys being a homicidal maniac, though. @ansu-gurleht wrote a summary of their bullshit, and I find it all a bit suspicious. Certainly, Iriel shouldn't be flattered by their approach, though he's desperate enough for scholarly validation to fall for it a little. Even through the haze of multifaceted terror and panic he's currently struggling through.

Iriel remembers magical academia, with all its bluffing and power-plays, he's just in no state to succeed at it, and shouldn't be trying. A real Dwemeri scholar would eat him alive. Fortunately, Trebonius knows no more about anything than he does. But let me be clear - Iriel knows barely anything about the Dwemer, or much of anything beyond certain specific, mostly magical, topics. He's desperate for intellectual validation, so he's trying to drag his academic vocabulary out of storage to pretend he can hold a conversation, but at this point, it's a paper-thin act. It's not just the drugs, either. Technically, Iriel is a drop-out, who has never actually completed the first year of any university course. He doesn't even know anything about mushrooms, except they look cool and he likes them.

Six forms and declarations later

You can sign up, but you can never leave! You have to pay guild dues for the rest of your life, or suffer Ranis sending assassin apprentices after you! Getting expelled might actually be the only escape option.

Please don't let him want to do that awful hand shaking thing Imperials do

I cannot imagine it's normal in Altmeri society to just TOUCH people. With your ACTUAL SKIN.

try to look normal

Iriel looking normal.

“Enthusiasm! Wonderful. Well, let’s see. Hmm… Find out about the disappearance of the Dwarves. There’s a fine job for a young Associate, eh?”

ansu-gerlecht speculates that Trebonius may not actually be as stupid as he seems, which is a fun idea, but if so, it's a very good act. Giving his underlings hilariously impossible tasks would be fantastic way to troll them, though. It's not just the player - if you talk to other mages, they'll tell you he has them learning the language of the silt striders, attaching an army of dreugh to the Foreign Quarter, digging tunnels to the mainland or building a new Anumidium.

It's possible to complete Trebonius' task, and find out what happened to the Dwemer. Iriel doesn't care one way or the other, just yet. He only wants to get out of Vivec and find a skooma connection. He's not a scholar of the Dwemer, but that's soon going to change. Something about it will end up hooking him. Because it's a personal question, for him - how does a whole race just vanish?

Iriel knows how to make himself vanish, but it's a temporary state, and at the end of the day, it's an illusion. He's still there. How do you disappear completely?

next: 9: sanctuary & 10: outside previous: 5: slide & 6: trap

[bohemian-nights]

here thinking, aegon being king... otto must have thought that he would manipulate him the same way he manipulated viserys "he must be weak like his father" or something like that, TG always says that aegon has otto, alicent and etc and how smart they are but aegon would be manipulated by both of them because they both know he wasn't meant to be king, aegon firing his grandfather was the only good thing he did in his life lol

I wouldn’t say Alicent’s wanted to manipulate him.

I stand firm on the fact that she was just trying to protect her kids. What other choice did she really have, but to push Aegon to take the throne for himself?

She saw what happened to Vaemond. Her sons would always have the better claim especially in comparison to their nephews. She only did what was necessary to save their lives.

Alicent probably viewed Aegon’s gluttonous ways a nuisance more than anything, and wished Aemond or Daeron had been her first-born.

Now I agree with you that Otto probably did like that Aegon was a lazy good for nothing. He definitely got the shock of his life when his new puppet—I mean grandson was like you are incompetent 🤣

I’m going to rant for a second, but Otto is truly a terrible father and grandfather. I don’t think people talk nearly enough about how book!him also probably pimped out an underage Alicent.

Yes she was 18 when she married Viserys, but he brought her to the capital and had her around the royal family since she was 15. With how many miscarriages and stillbirths Aemma had, there is no way you cannot convince me that he was just waiting for her to die so that he could install Alicent as queen. She and her children were his pawns.

[asimplearchivist]

I feel like I'm offering excuses hand over hand regarding the lack of updates for my WIPs, and I admit that I've been a bit lazy lately since I've been replaying DAI, but something happened this weekend that might keep me from being able to write for a while. I'll probably still be active as far as responses/asks/rbs go, I've just been struggling creatively anyway and then circumstances like this always complicate matters even more. I hope to have something done by the time I go back to uni at the end of August, but I may be busy, idk yet.

(C/TW below the cut: pet/animal death, vague description of injuries bc I won't put y'all through the gruesome details, etc. I don't expect anyone to read this if it's upsetting or brings up bad memories; please don't distress yourself for my sake.)

I lost my cat, my baby, of nineteen years Friday evening due to unfortunate and rather terrible circumstances. It was gruesome, but we were able to get her help as soon as we could. Her injuries (from large dogs that have been roaming the neighborhood recently, because apparently their owners don't care about the havoc they wreak on all the rabbits that live around us; but it's hard to tell when they'll be out and about, and my cat has been indoor/outdoor all her life, plus we're mostly isolated, so it was just terrible timing) were extensive enough that there was little hope she would make it through surgery. I made the decision to have her euthanized so she wouldn't suffer, and I held her through it so she wouldn't be alone.

I'm not hunting sympathy, and I'm not really looking to discuss it privately as I am still coming to terms between acknowledging that, logically, I handled it as best as I could given the time-intensiveness of the situation while struggling with normal guilt and self-doubt. Well wishes are welcome, of course, I don't mean to sound standoffish in any way - I'd simply prefer not to dwell on it nor languish in reliving the details, if that's all right.

She lived a very long, very spoiled life, and even the nurses were offering some comfort in saying that she was in remarkably good shape to be that old. I had her since I was about four, and while I wish I could have done and handled some things differently, I know that she was getting feeble anyway. I noticed the other day that she was looking abnormally thin, and I've been preparing myself for this for the last couple of years because she gave us a couple of scares recently. While the circumstances were not ideal by any means, and perhaps this sounds horrible, but to have the option sort of taken from me makes it the tiniest bit easier. I had prayed for that very thing because I didn't think I could handle making a decision regarding an illness or something of the like bc you never really know if it's the right thing to do. I just would've preferred she'd gone asleep.

This ended up way longer than I intended, I apologize. She was the best cat I could've ever asked for. She was sassy and smartassy and ran our house her whole life. She would come to me at night when she'd hear me crying and lick my face to distract me. She let me baby her and carry her around and she was so very sweet. She slept with me many long nights and kept me warm. I'll miss her more than I could possibly put into words, as she meant so much to me.

(I worry this will spark a debate about the 'ethics' of having outdoor cats but we live in a mostly rural almost country area, and we've never had very many problems with dogs before so this was all very unexpected. She always stayed close to the house. But I suppose it doesn't matter now. We're keeping our new baby inside on lockdown until the dogs can be dealt with. She isn't happy about it, but she's tolerating my clinginess better than she did before, since she's not super touchy-feely. I think she knows I'm needing a little comfort.)

I digress. If anyone reads this, I appreciate it. It isn't easy. I would never wish this upon anyone. She was my best friend and companion and comforter for many years, and I'm just glad I was able to be there with her when she went. I hope she knew how much I loved her.

[watchmenanon]

This was a small part of your last answer to the Anon ask, but I agree completely with you that there's nothing really cute about throwing a traumatized girl who lived her life in a lab into the arms of the first normal boy she meets. I think that if the audience was meant to root for Mleven, the Duffers went about it in completely the wrong way.

There was no build up. They met, and Mike kissed her at the end of the first season. They spent most of season two apart, but then kissed at the end of it. Seasons 3 and 4 were just them lying, fighting, and having never ending relationship problems.

Had the Duffers wanted us to root for them, they should have:

Had Mike hug El instead of kiss her at the end of season 1. That way, the audience would know a relationship might happen, and there would be a tension there. Instead of being able to automatically assume "Yep, they're going to be together now," there would be a "Hmm, let's see where this goes."

They should have allowed El to discover who she is, and given her the opportunity to spend a lot of time with Max and all of the boys. They would've included some cute scenes of Mike and El (maybe some flirting, a handhold, hug, etc.) but nothing outright. This would have kept the audience invested in their friendship, and kept people interested to see if they were going to get together or not.

Then, they should've finally gotten together either at the end of season 4 or during season 5. It was all done too quickly. There was so little build up, and no opportunity to doubt for even one second whether they would "get together." Frankly, if it was meant to be a likable ship, it was written in a very boring and lazy way.

Hi Anon!!!💚

You're absolutely right about what you're saying and I completely agree with you. It would've been a more understandable ship for people to root for if they were written like that.

Personally, I wouldn't have liked mlvn in these circumstances either and that's because Mike is still the first normal boy that she has ever met and the first one who showed her kindness.

I don't know if you're a familiar with the "Nice Guy Syndrome", but I have the opinion that a mlvn slow burn would've contributed to perpetuate it.

The Audiences (and even the characters) would've expected mlvn to get together because El owes him that for everything he has done for her, there would be a sense of entitlement for her to reciprocate his feelings and they wouldn't have stopped talking about "Mike being stuck in the friendzone".

I'll leave you with a couple of articles that explains my feelings about this topic.

Thank you so much for the ask!!! Have a great day!!!!💙💛

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I went into the post office today still thinking about rather dark things. I was in a lot of pain, of course, so maybe it had gotten me in a mood.

Recently I found out that my brother has said horrible things, only horrible things, “never a kind word” about me to my one actual friend. She seemed amazed at how nasty he was. Maybe more hurtfully, he’d been telling her to never help me. I need to learn a lesson, you see, be punished for being a failure. Obviously I’m not trying hard enough, and if I can only suffer enough I will fix myself….

Yeah, I dunno either. My brother has been a painful mystery with his harshness for a long time. My parents worried, but were no more able to know what to so than I am. **What do you do to deal with a mindset that can be cruel, full of resentments, threats, and bitterness, that sees all the world in terms of enemies and battles? He actually lectured me once for not “hating properly”. It seems exhausting and sad.

Anyway, I limped in feeling upset with myself as much as hurt by my brother. After all, I am broken obviously. I work so hard for nothing, make no progress in anything. I feel lazy if I even rest when I hurt so much I’m crying out in pain, so when I’m accused of being lazy I find it too easy to believe.

So what happens? Oh, I get asked a out my day, so I start telling. And I laugh explaining why one of my hands is covered in something blue, why my injured finger resembles a cherry Tootsie Pop, why there are twig all in my hair, why my shirt has flour on it and I smell of spices, etc….I mean, it was just an ordinary enough day by my standards.

And so the wide eyed lady starts telling me how amazing I am. (The only compliment to seem more off base was my high school art teacher saying I was the coolest person in the school! LOL) She tells me I have a heart of gold. (Yeah, really! LOL)

She said I was one of the most beautiful people inside and out. (I resisted laughing, but it was hard)

She tells me I must stop taking care of other people all the time, and take care of myself. (Um, most of what I do is survival…you know, taking care of myself)

She tells me I deserve to take a day every week to pamper myself, just take a day off. (Not gonna happen, when my work is survival)

She tells me she is making it her mission before the end of the year to do a make over of me!

Actually that last one threw me the most. First off, a make over suggests I was ever made to being with!

It’s sweetly meant, but ridiculous. Nice as it might be to wear makeup once in my life, I can’t say I am keen on my being a living doll to be made up to someone else’s aesthetics. She insists it will change my life and everyone will be shocked by how beautiful I actually am, which is obviously absurd. Playing dress up can’t change a life, and no one will EVER think I am beautiful. And, even if I DID like whatever look, I sure as hell don’t have the time or money to mess around keeping it up, especially when my only audience for it would be the animals!!!

Then came the religion. Oh, she tells me, god knows how good I am. That’s why god keeps blessing me…

Um, if this is being blessed I’d hate to see what cursed is like!

And so she goes on about how everything is possible with god’s will, how faith like mine is rewarded, and on and on….

I’m not a christian. I’m agnostic, bordering on atheist. But I know how this goes. I live in a teeny town in the bible belt. You smile. You say thanks when they bless you or pray for you. You are grateful for the emotional intent. You never ever debate them or roll you eyes or…

And then an older woman came in, one that texts me when the weather seems dangerous. I haven’t seen her in person in years. Her health is rough, but her husband has never recovered from covid so he’s been hospitalized forever.

She sort of let me know she was hurt I didn’t always text her back. I try to explain my phone, which sounds feeble, and the post master jumps in to explain how busy I always am….And I ask about how she’s doing and her husband so everything is fine again.

A very strange thing happens. The woman is having some sort of questioning god moment. She’s using all the local language about praying and blessings and so forth, and the suddenly says: “But I keep wondering. I mean, a whole airplane full of hundreds of people, and it crashes. Was it REALLY the time for ALL those people all at once?!?”

She’s upset so you can tell it is getting to her, and the post master who is likewise religious thrown for a second, trying to think what to say from the grab bag of quotable they keep ready….

And I speak up. I tell her, well, thousands of people die every day, so why couldn’t many be in one place. And thousands are born too…

And so on.

I was doing the “well, if there is a god then couldn’t it logically work like this…”!!!!!

FFS, I, a skeptic to very bottom of my soul, was actually trying to soothe away the doubts of a believer simply because I don’t want them to be upset!! I was making the argument for religion because I felt she needs it, but what right do I have to decide that?

How presumptuous of me!

I should have said nothing I guess. Let the two religious women talk, see if the one unshakable could say something the one shaken needed to hear. But she was upset and what I said comforted her, and I never lied to her. I never mentioned god or spirits or any other mumbo jumbo. I just said a sort “ if this, then that” that I hoped help.

But it bothers me I jumped in like. I just encouraged someone to believe something I think is bullshit (not the “every day many people die” thing, but the “supernatural forced decide” implied part), and most likely have led them to believe I share their religion (which, to be fair, around here EVERYONE assumes about everyone else anyway). Hypocrisy and dishonestly about my beliefs are anathema to me and this comes perilously close.

So, today I went into the post office in a funk about myself, had a conversation that gave me an undeserved ego boost, and left in a funk again!!!

**I want to be clear about this, my parents were kind and generous people. Oh sure, they had their fill of frustrations (more than their share in Pop’s case) and anger, but it was never aimed like a weapon. They never wanted to hurt people, but to help them. His failing and mine are our own, mixed with “injuries” inflicted by the world beyond our home.

I know most folks blame their parents, usually understandably, but there are limits what even loving, smart, and well meaning parents can do when the chemistry of a child’s nature comes into contact with volatile parts of society . Boom. Explosions. Implosions. Everything changes and sometimes the results are poisonous.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi. This is very personal. I don't talk much about it because I don't think anyone who wasn't an abused/neglected child can understand it. Maybe you can. It isn't important that you answer fast, really. And I don't believe you have good tips for me. But maybe you do and if not, I have at least told someone about it.

tw psychiatry, suicidal gesture, self harm

10 years ago, when I was 13, I commited myself into psychiatry. I was severely suicidal, did attempt suicide (but never told anyone in my real life, still not) and had obsessive thoughts about killing myself all the time and... Idk didn't really want it. Not all the time. So yeah, I thought that was a good idea. Secretly I was hoping they'd take me out of my family, but that was a subconscious hope.

And psychiatry was... traumatic again. It was mainly (I believe) the loss of control (trauma-child, need much control) and that the people... didn't believe I was just a people pleaser. I wanted everyone to like me and did my best all the time but... the nurses seemed to have become cynical and didn't believe that. All my depression symptoms were called "lazy, doesn't want to cooperate", all my friendships "try to bring others up against the nurses" and all the mistakes I did, because I was careless or clumsy or didn't pay enough attention, were made with bad intentions. I tried so hard to make them believe me that I was a good person, but it was useless. (They didn't treat just me this way. The psychiatry, as I learned years later, has a very bad reputation for that very reason and their protocols etc aren't very reliable amongs therapists, because they always paint patient worse than they are). It was so horrible. (One example is, I did harm myself one evening and then went to the movie evening with the self-made bandaids, in short clothes, because I didn't care to keep it a secret. The self harmers were controlled once a week anyways. And the next day was control day and the nurse (the movie night nurse) was super shocked and angry that I didn't tell her and I said (and meant) "Oh sorry, I thought you noticed yesterday evening" so she wrote down "She harms herself to manipulate the nurses to get their attention!" (I was given the protocol after I left and... it still leaves me crying)).

That's one example but I guess it shows you all you need to know. Uhh, I am shivering from anxiety again. How unfortune. Anyhow.

The first year after I left, I had flashbacks daily. It became less and less and is now only a handful times a year. Which is still much, in my opinion, for 10 years, but I can't change it.

I just had such a flashback, an olfactic one. I was in bathroom and brushing teeth and suddenly had the smell of the community bathroom of the psychiatry in my nose. And I... was so sad that I am not there anymore. Which is the opposite of what I usually feel. I am so torn between those two extremes, it hurts.

Because it wasn't everything bad. There were people... seeing me. They recognized, what I did, they saw me, greeted me, took care of me. They later wrote down that I am a horrible human being, but at least someone SAW me.

And I had hope. They quickly called CPS to take me out of my home and my social worker promised me that and was looking for a new home for me. I had hope that something would change for me, that I wouldn't need to bear my family for many more years, until I can move out. The social worker later changed her mind, decided, it was too expensive and my mom seemed nice so, good for her, goodbye. Guess where I am still living.

And the last thing, that is kinda a secret, there was a doctor I really liked. Not like in a substitute-mom way, but she was a role model for me. I would've loved her to stay my therapist for longer or be in my life for longer so she could... guide me. Oh that sounds strange. I don't find better fitting words. So she really took care of me, came in, in her freetime to talk to me, she cared more about me than she did about most other patients. And that was... really something. I really liked being around her and getting real attention from someone, who didn't think I was a horrible human being 😱 extra super.

And that is something I miss and I kinda feel like.. i ruined her image of me? So, this is embarrassing for me: When I had to leave (back to my parents home, CPS still pretending to care) she called me and I... i really broke down. Worse than ever before and after. I can't tell why. I was crying and couldn't keep myself together etc. So she called my mom who drove me back. But after a weekend (in which that doctor wasn't there) the boss-doctor decided, that I wasted enough of their time and kicked me out again. And that time I kept myself together.

That doctor gave me her email and I mailed her and asked something.. obscure. It was a cry for help but it was just cringe in hindsight. She answered me but I was so ashamed of myself and the stupid message I had written her, that I never answered her back.

No, let's be honest here, so, I was back at home and needed to keep it together so I wrote her, how much I could increase the dose of my antidepressants, to still be safe for me. I was planning to self medicate (and I did). And I was so ashamed because it was half a legit question and half a cry for help but for me it simply sounded like a stupid, childish cry for help. So yeah. That was that.

And I felt like I needed to make some progress because there were some people from psychiatry rooting for me and I didn't want to disappoint them. Half/half. On the one hand, I wanted to come back, worse than ever (to show them, that I was legit sick. I felt somewhat inferior to people with bpd, because I was officially treated as "puberty depression" and they were treated as people who really suffered.) On the other hand, I wanted to make them proud. But reality was, I did neither. I stayed still, until now. I was never allowed to go to therapy, I developed more and more mental illnesses and learned to cope with them, to mask them almost perfectly, I didn't go to college, have no job, so, I am a disappointment.

I didn't leave the house (except school) because I was so afraid to meet one of the people, and make them disappointed in me. But that's another story.

So, I am torn between "never think about psychiatry, makes only flashback and panic attack" and "miss psychiatry. Want to think about it all the time, dive(dissociate) deep into it!". And it is 10 years idk, I am pathetic, that's no secret.

Okay, bye, no need to rush, I'll leave now to calm my anxiety down.

Hi anon,

I am appalled by how you were treated at psychiatry. It always baffles me when people whose job is to literally care for people who are struggling are so incredibly insensitive and neglectful. Part of being in the field of mental health care, especially nursing and psychiatric care, is hospitality, kindness, patience, and compassion. There are unfortunately too many people in these fields that are just so cold, rude, and ignorant, and I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that.

It also makes sense to miss psychiatry. A lot of people miss their trauma in a way, because it's sometimes more predictable than the present. Another reason could be because our trauma can sometimes desensitize us to softer and more gentile things, so we seek out or actively relive traumatic moments just to feel alive. But for you of course, it wasn't 100% bad, there were moments were you felt seen and cared for. It's important to remember that there were good times as well as bad times.

I want to focus on when you said you reached out to that one doctor you liked and that the way you worded your message made you feel like it was stupid and childish. You deserve to have more compassion for your younger self because you were going through a lot, and it made sense to reach out to what may have felt like the only person in your life who truly cared, even if the execution wasn't perfect. You say it was childish, but you were a child. You don't deserve to blame yourself for doing things as a child that you cringe about today, because that was simply your mindset at the time and that's okay.

I think finding a balance between "never think about psychiatry, makes only flashback and panic attack" and "miss psychiatry, want to think about it all the time" simply takes time and healing. A therapist may be able to help you work through both options and coming to a middle ground, as well as other things about your trauma that may need attention.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[writer-citation-needed]

It may sound crazy, to want to live the same day over and over again with no end in sight. Hell, I would have even thought it was ridiculous before I ended up here. However, it's really not as bad as the movies make it seem. Consider the following:

My social anxiety is practically gone. Don't want to talk to someone? I already know exactly where nearly everyone in my town is at basically every single minute! At this point I can pretty much navigate social life like a video game- the dialog tree only reaches so far after all.

So much time to watch TV, movies, read books, listen to podcasts, etc etc. This one seems like a pretty obvious perk. There's a lot of great stuff I would have missed out on with the loop, plus with the state of media I doubt anything good will come after me.

Well, I was pretty lucky to have my loop on a day with no bills or appointments or any major responsibility, really. I hated being an adult. It's great being able to just chill (not to mention, no more periods!)

I woke up with a warm feeling across my face, a beam of sunlight having been gracing my features for some time now according to my phone. Before all of this time loop business I wouldn't have woken up past eleven AM, but I don't exactly have a shift to wake up for anymore (I thank myself every day for having taken the day off) so I don't feel the need to rise and grind per se. Besides, nothing around here opens until later in the morning anyways.

As I dress and wash my face (I'm not so far gone in the loop as to stop caring about my hygiene, although of course I've had my fair share of lazy days) I try to make my mental to-do list for the day, knowing I'll have to write it down after breakfast. I've really taken to journaling the past few months of the loop, since it allows me to keep a record of everything I've done and how long I've been here. Otherwise, I think it would all run together.

Alright, list time, I think.

Today's a good day to finish up that sweater; it's nearly done. Kara will like the surprise. When is she at the library? Wait no, she doesn't go to the library. I'm thinking of Milly. Crap. I think Kara's at home 'til three, so I can pop by if I can finish that up soon. Great!

I haven't gotten around to trying Grouch's strawberry latte yet, that would be a nice treat. I'm honestly shocked it's taken me this long to get around to their coffee, I didn't hate it that much before the loop.

Maybe then I'll finish up Drag Race Canada. There's only what, five more episodes? Psh. (Thank god for Rupaul's franchising. The only way you could watch all those seasons is if you were in a time loop.)

That sounds like enough for today. I'm exhausted from running around yesterday. Someone should have told me not to make a batch of soap without knowing fifteen other people that wanted it! Oh well, it probably made their nights.

After a nutritious meal of Eggos and peaches I got to work on that sweater. Crochet didn't take to long to learn, and luckily there's a million patterns online for me to work through. It's a good hobby for me. I do feel bad for the library stitch group's yarn that I keep 'borrowing' for all my projects though. Luckily they won't remember me asking by the time the sun rises again.

I do sometimes wonder what happens to the material things within the loop. People I get. They wake up exactly how they were the day before. Objects, though? I've never had anything mysteriously disappear at night, nor has something broken magically reformed during the loop. This sweater for instance- once I give it to Kara, what will happen to it? Surely it won't stay in her closet forever. She'd notice a handmade sweater randomly at the back of her closer and know it can't have just have shown up. Maybe the material gets recycled throughout the universe or something, I don't know.

Without realizing it, I came to the last stitch. It's a nice little garment, not really meant for this summer weather but would do quite nicely in October.

I shove the sweater in my good old tote bag and slip on my sneakers before embarking on my quest to Kara's neighborhood, right by the elementary school. Going out used to be unnerving with the deja vu feeling being unavoidable, but I've found comfort in it after all these days. It's a lot like Stardew Valley in my opinion, With the right timing, I know exactly where everyone will be and how they'll react to whatever I do to spice up the day. Even someone like Kara, who I had only spoken to a few times before the loop, is someone I now know inside and out. I can hear her reaction now, "When did you have time to make this? Just yesterday you said you were swamped with assignments. It came out lovely though. Thank you." She wouldn't even-

I lose my thought alongside my footing as I stumble on the sidewalk and fall flat on my face. At least the sweater blocked some of my body from the impact. I look back to make sure I didn't drop anything, but what I see confuses me more than anything that could have fallen from my bag.

A person.

On the sidewalk.

I know it doesn't sound like something that would warrant such a reaction, but you need to understand that there hasn't been a single person on this road in all the hundreds of days I've taken this route in town! That's why I go this way. So imagine my surprise to see a real, genuine human being curled up on the ground much like I am now after my graceful maneuver.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." The figure begins to say. Their voice pierces through my ears like when metal scrapes against itself. I wasn't meant to hear it. It's wrong. Why?

"Who are you?" I blurt instinctively. I don't recognize their tone, their accent, their vocal quirks.

"I'm Dell," they reply. A name I've never heard around these parts.

My guard goes up.

"I'm Lila."

"Again, I'm really sorry for making you fall. I hope you aren't hurt." I look closer at Dell's face. They really do look sorry. Maybe for more than just our collision. Their eyes look puffy, their hair unbrushed. To summarize: a wreck.

"It's okay. Nothing a bandaid can't fix." It sounds foreign coming out of my mouth- I've never said anything like that before.

I barely hear when they mutter "I wish a bandaid could fix all this."

Again, alarm bells. Why haven't I ever seen Dell here before? I can practically count the leaves on the trees after the number of times I've walked down this very road. Surely I would have stumbled into them (literally) one of these days. Still, I can sense that they have something more going on. I can't let myself treat the people around me like NPCs just because I (usually) know their every move.

"What's wrong? If you don't mind my prying." I've sat up at this point. We both face the road now.

"It's not something I can really explain."

"Dell, believe me when I say I am probably dealing with something weirder"

They sigh. "Okay. I guess it won't really matter anyways. You'll forget it too."

Dell thinks, choosing their words wisely.

"I just feel like- like I'm trapped. And the world keeps going on without me, and I can't figure out how to change it. Change anything."

My eyes widen. It makes sense now, their unfamiliar face, strange voice and sudden appearance in my once comfortably unchanged routine.

Dell's like me.

"Me too!" I say a bit too enthusiastically. Seeing their look of disbelief, I continue, "no, I really mean it. I've been here for a while. On this day."

It's Dell's turn for shock. "Really? You aren't messing with me?"

"Nope. If you want, I have proof." Dell nods. You open your tote bag and reach for your notebook (you've grown accustomed to taking it with you so you can take note of any creative ideas you have or interesting things to mark for the future). As you flip through the dozens of pages already filled, Dell's jaw drops.

"How long have you been here?" They ask meekly, like they don't want to hear your answer deep down.

"I only started keeping a serious record about five months ago but it was a while before I thought of it."

Dell frowns. "And you don't know how to end it?"

"I haven't tried. Honest, it's not so bad. Like reading the script for a play. Everything falls into place perfectly." I offer them my favorite upside.

"I just wanna go back. I miss my life. My real one. With unpredictableness and everything." Dell whimpers. They look like they're going to cry, and it makes them look younger than they already did. I hadn't thought of it before, but it's entirely possible that they're a child. It must be hard for them.

New item added to my to-do list: help Dell leave the loop.

I don't know if it's even possible, really. I certainly haven't thought about learning the lesson that landed me here. Why would I? I get to enjoy all the best parts of adulthood without any of the responsibilities. It rules. I try to explain this, but it falls on deaf ears.

"Don't you miss your family, Lila? Your friends?"

Another thing I hadn't thought much about. I had fallen out of touch with my friends after high school, and since moving away from my parents I don't call them much.

Huh. I haven't called them at all.

My stomach churns.

Dell can see the way my lips frown. "Lila?"

It must be harder with loved ones near you. Not celebrating holidays or good news or anything other than one day's set events. Not being able to tell them what's happening, or worse confessing to them and having them wake up the next morning with no clue of your situation. No one to turn to, no one who understands. Not a single unplanned moment.

"We'll get through this. I'll make sure." I take a deep breath. I don't know what to do for know, but I know that I'll be able to think better with some caffeine.

"Have you tried Grouch's before? It's a really good cafe."

Dell shakes their head. "My dad says they have terrible coffee."

I laugh. "I thought that too, but give it some time and your mind might change"

We stand up and I lead the way. The sweater can wait- I can just deliver it again tomorrow.

Now, I have a much more important goal.

I have to get out. For Dell. For myself.

You are stuck in a time loop, but you have no intention of ever breaking out of it. After literally millions of resets a new person appears in the loop and asks you why you are still in the loop.

[aestheno]

I'm currently sat in Gail's on Great Portland Street, having paid £7.20 for a mozzarella focaccia that was unequivocally not worth £7.20, purely for the privilege of having somewhere indoors to sit in Central London. Anywhere just off Regent's Street feels like an insight into the life I could have lived had I not dropped out of my internship at JP Morgan: received pronunciation accents and trench coats and fine art seen through the residential windows of Wigmore Street. People who actually have the means to spend £7.20 on a subpar sandwich every day.

These kinds of moments so easily make me doubt what I'm doing. Am I meant to be a creative? Is making music a childish, frivolous pursuit? The structure of a corporate job looks inviting when I'm feeling lost in a time where I'm spinning my wheels. Especially when I know I'd instantly have competition to sink my teeth into. The thing is, if I had done that, there's no way I'd have gotten seven years in and not gone crazy from lack of creative fulfilment. Overall, my creative and my analytical parts of my brain are inherently at war with one another.

I left the house today because I felt like I was going crazy. The feeling of entrapment and boredom in my own home is so overwhelming. I don't have to interact with the wider world if my day doesn't demand it. Being in Central and seeing society in motion is like a tidal volume's worth of oxygen. Brick and mortar lives and a bustle of activity between them. I don't know what the man and woman sat outside the cafe across the street are doing, but I like that they're there. There's an inspiring aura walking past university buildings, the Royal Ballet School, the BBC, etc. - perhaps the issue isn't that the arts are too fluffy; it's that I crave a structure within which to improve. And almost certainly one that resides outside my house.

The path I've chosen to take in life is very independent, and that was always going to be the case. But I miss guidance and academia. I miss training and studying. I never trained in the arts, either. I abandoned ship on my theoretical physics Master's and dived headfirst into a career in performance. There's a fantasy every time I pass down leafy Gower Street and think of the drama and dance students in there, ruthlessly training for the performances of tomorrow. It gets scratched somewhat when I watch the vlogs of people in those worlds, but sometimes all that does is make me ache for the higher education experience I never had thanks to illness, hospital, heartbreak, and laziness.

The story I've had is interesting, unique, impressive, and scrappy. But no one ever knows how close life is to drifting off the rails but you. No one knows how much is a fluke but you. And I am fortunate to have been afforded the chance to get those flukes by a privileged financial starting point, but sometimes I feel like I've squandered that privilege, by not being good enough, talented enough, pretty enough, stand-out enough. So maybe I should have just stuck to banking.

I want to be art and I want people to care. But my life is fractured for structure, and since moving out of a full time broadcasting position, I struggle to know how to get people's attention. What makes them want to watch or listen to me? How do I deal with the feeling of reduced relevance when I'm competing against millions in a very democratised landscape. How do I unleash my potential when I feel limited in my opportunities to grow, learn and train? Ultimately those things aren't a 100% hinderance, but it feels like life is just that much less fulfilling as a result.

I know my potential is good, my environment and circumstances just frustrate me. I need variety in my surroundings. Sprinkles of real world, and politics, and business, and academia; a lunch amongst 9-5ers pursuing different routes, a walk on cafe-strewn side streets, angry cyclists and passer-bys. Things need to feel more storylike, but stories only matter when context is given. Currently mine exists in my house. There is no supporting cast except through my PC screen. And I really just want to feel like a real person again.

[aghostwithnoname]

TLDR: It's OK to take meds if you need them.

TW: Much discussion of struggles with mental and physical health, suicidal ideation, ableism, etc.

Unsure if this is relevant to anyone BUT I was thinking a lot about how lately I've noticed an uptick in songs, posts, blogs, etc. criticizing the use of medicine to treat mental disorders. Related to this, I also used to think 'alternative medicine' was just some harmless BS to shill useless and unethically sourced rocks -- now I feel like MOST of it is some scary cult shit that prevents people from getting actual fucking help and needs to be interrogated and regulated.

As someone who has struggled with my mental and physical health for decades, this trend against so-called "traditional medicine" is concerning to me for several reasons. DISCLAIMER: I'm not saying meditation, tai chi, yoga, etc. are at fault. These are cultural and spiritual practices developed by communities of colour that have a long history that should be respected, and they can certainly help some folks! I'm more concerned about the predominantly White people selling crystals to "cure your depression" or who say "cutting cords is going to free you from your PTSD", etc.

For so many years, I had been scared off of seeking out medical therapy because other people had told me "It's just about reframing your thinking," or "Big Pharma is just trying to sell you on drugs that will make you worse!" or "Your mental disorder is actually what empowers you/makes you creative/etc. and the meds will destroy that!" This sort of toxic "positivity" and misinformed distrust of medical science was even said in supposedly disabled-inclusive spaces and was incredibly damaging. I also worried that any time I considered the possibility of taking meds, this would be considered "drug-seeking" behavior, and doctors would deny me regardless. But here's the thing:

If you need to take meds or ask for meds, you can. It's not a bad thing. You are not denying "your true self" or whatever. You are not "lazy" or a bad person for "relying" on medication to feel better.

I get it that meds don't work for everyone, can make people feel worse, etc. Sometimes, it's a very long struggle to finding out what works for you -- and there's a lot of disappointment along the way when something doesn't work out. We all are different in how we respond to certain therapies and drugs. That's really what the term "neurodivergence" is meant to capture -- that everyone's brain chemistry and mental makeup is different -- and not all of it deserves to be pathologised. And I do agree, not all pharmaceutical companies are ethical in how they approach the creation and distribution of medicine -- look no further than the opioid crisis for evidence of that.

But when medicine is scientifically proven to be effective, is necessary, and *does* work for you -- gods, it's indescribable. For me, it really was a new lease on life. I finally was able to be wholly myself -- after living more than half my life in a dark, horrifying place -- though to everyone around me, I seemed to be doing fucking awesome. After meds, I finally was able to look in the mirror and tell myself I was good, deserving, intelligent, and caring without it being a blatant lie. I no longer thought about death constantly, or obsessed about my abuse and trauma.

Until then, I had forgotten how much my joy was just as much a part of me as my pain was. I think back to that endlessly scared, suicidal little kid and how much life they missed out on because they felt ashamed for seeking medicine that they desperately needed.

It's not that I wasn't trying hard enough to "redirect thoughts" or accept my brain for "what it was". I toughed it out until I couldn't. I punished myself for so many years seeking help in all the wrong places. I pushed myself until life broke me again -- and I could not put myself back together on my own.

There was so much guilt attached to me finally seeking out a prescription, until I reframed the conversation. "Hey, ghost, you also have a chronic illness that you need to take meds for -- so why are you so afraid of taking meds for your mental disorder when it would help? This is an option for a better quality of life that is accessible to you -- why the hell are you punishing yourself for wanting to use it?" The answer: Internalised ableism, baby! I mistakenly thought I was beyond that kind of thinking -- I wasn't.

I then thought back to all the time doctors and medical staff had failed to listen to my concerns when I was suffering from my chronic physical illness even AFTER I was positively diagnosed. One doctor had even purposefully set my dosage too low to actually address my condition and proceeded to "compliment" me on my unplanned weight loss. I didn't find out until years later from an actually good and empathetic doctor that I needed a dose 5x higher. 5x higher, people! That's not a mistake -- that's negligence and medical abuse outright.

When confronted with your physical and/or mental disability, for some weird reason, people will try to force you not to seek medical help and keep you suffering. That's fucking horrifying, especially when it's the people you are trying to seek help from.

Despite all this, I'm glad I fought the healthcare system, societal perceptions, and my own internalised ableism to advocate for what I needed. Even though it was scary, tiring, and years in the making, I finally found a good PCP and psychologist. I relied a lot on family and friends who understood my conditions for support. Now, thanks entirely to being on the RIGHT meds and correct dosage for both my physical and mental illnesses, it's like I'm a new person -- it sounds so cliché but it's true.

Does the dark side of my mind still come out some times? Sure. But I can turn away from it now and focus on the present and the people and things I cherish. I'm finally back to the person I was before the world tried to crush me. I can look at life again with the happiness and hope I had as a child, like I'm reaching back in time and holding their hand as they excitedly show me all the parts of myself I've been missing out on for the past twenty years.

This is why medical therapy should be accessible to EVERYONE, and people should not be shamed by their community or their healthcare providers for seeking out that option when it is available to them. FULL STOP.

Either way, if you're Going Through It, to quote my fav girl Karlach, thanks for listening, for existing. Love you.

[rpdiscord]

Aparecium (21+) - HP Universe - Brand New & Recruiting!

The wizarding war nearly destroyed Hogwarts at its very foundation. The Ministry, finally given just enough to justify its permanent closing. Before the doors were locked indefinitely, Newt Scamander stepped away from retirement to give the school its final chance. A chance it truly needs.

Hogwarts begins its rebirth under a new concept, a new head. Hogwarts University for Universal Magics. A magical university to reignite magic conversation between those of all walks of life. Magia est, in omnibus nobis. The first step in rebranding and rebuilding. A new motto and new hope.

The ministry hopes that with this rebuild and rebranding, as well as through the reassurances of Newt Scamander himself, that the dark times have passed. Peace is the tone that will set the pace for the next century. However, there lies an evil within Hogwart’s own walls that threatens to destroy everything that they’d fought to preserve.

There are talks of a resurgence of Death Eaters. Rumors of a forgotten descendant of Salazar Slytherin and rumors that the Dark Mark has been seen yet again in the skies. Whisperings of muggle crimes that weren’t actually performed by muggles. It’s all slow to make its way to the Ministry’s ears and even slower to be believed.

A new rumor has sprouted in the halls of Hogwarts. The Chamber of Secrets that was emptied all those years ago at the hands of the Boy Who Lived, is said now to be full again. Another creature was deposited in the chamber to protect the secrets and treasures that the headmaster himself has been sworn to protect.

There’s a new evil within Hogwarts that threatens the very students within the school. A student/professor themselves, they are hellbent in releasing the monster contained within the chamber to complete what Lord Voldemort himself couldn’t.

To top it all off, The other magical schools are invited for an exchange program of sorts. To celebrate the rebranding of Hogwarts and the revitalization of the remaining schools. Beauxbaton, Castelobruxo, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny, Mahoutokoro, and Uagadou all sent professors and current students to live and learn for the school year at Hogwarts University for Universal Magics.

RECRUITING FOR A HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE DISCORD RP! This is meant to be inclusive, fun, and ofc 21+. Which means if you are a minor, this is not a space for you. The server is just getting started so now’s a great time to join, get to know the other players, and perhaps even throw together a character.

A few things to keep in mind...

While this is in the HP universe, you don't have to know the books in depth to join. We will have most of the basics listed (such as wands and things) for those who aren't super familiar with the books/movies/etc

Characters are going to be 21+. Specific roles will have specific minimum ages already listed beside them. And these are meant to be OCs only.

Faceclaims are meant to be real people and should look close to the intended age of the character.

4 characters max per writer (but please only take what you can handle.)

LGBT+ Friendly. Anyone and everyone is allowed and encouraged.

Writing expectation is lazy lit. We’re expecting 250+ words per post. With a posting expectation of AT LEAST one post per character every two weeks.

If you’ve read all that and are ready to join the fray… join the Aparecium discord... here!!

[kamijoxversailles]

I deliberately wrote it the way I did because I've known students here in Norway, where a public higher education is virtually free, who did not have to work beside their studies - not because the state loan we get is amazing, but because they had parents who paid their rent, so they could spend their monthly loan however they wished - and who still studied virtually 24/7.

Especially during exam season, people would sit and read and read and quiz themselves and believe it was worth it to forsake sleep in order to do well on their exams.

I wrote what I wrote because the students I have in my memory did not HAVE to study so late, or read so much; they had the freedom and time and finances to do it a healthy way - but their families and their professors and the books they loved as children - they all glorified the self sacrificing student, the hard working one who sacrifices all social life in order to focus on their studies, and therefore rises to the top of their class!

That student probably isn't exactly a lie. But they are very rare, and they're a student who will probably get burned out sooner or later, and will wake up one day and realize they don't have any friends, because they never prioritized it.

Yes, I agree. They're a student whose study is actively being sabotaged. But with the students I had in mind when writing those tags, it was very much self sabotage. They had the resources necessary to not have to do it like that, but they still did it - out of some misguided notion that working yourself into a nervous breakdown is morally superior.

Yes, this is a societal problem, absolutely, we are entirely agreed!!!

But I live in Norway. I have never lived in the United States of America, and while I feel deeply sorry for everyone who lives there and doesn't have filthy rich families, I do not, and will not ever, write from the perspective of the American student reality.

Norwegian public education is FAR from perfect!!! And we too glorify the student who works hard and diligently and doesn't really know when to quit.

But for me, this was NOT a tag that had anything to do with finances or a lack other resources that cause a student to have to work and only has time to study late in the evening.

My tag did not look down on people who don't sleep enough, because they have to study.

I rarely get enough sleep myself!

But what I meant with being bad students, is that they buy into the lie that in order to be a Good Student, you SHOULD study every second of free time you have, and gladly sacrifice sleep for your studies. Buying into the lie that studying all the time = morally superior/better than students who only set off like, one hour a day to study, and focus on other things too (like sleep, working out, socializing, watching a film, reading a book they WANT to read, etc).

Media and older relatives, here at least, paint a picture that the first student is a Good Student, while the second one is a Lazy Student, a bad one, and that they could become one of the Good Students if they only studied harder!!!

And that is the image I want to change. You are not being a "bad student" for taking breaks and moving and getting enough sleep. On the contrary, you're being a rather bad student if you CHOOSE to sacrifice sleep because you think it makes you better than the ones who did sleep. And people have been known to do just that, so. Bad, because you're working against yourself, against your brain, against your needs!

So I'm not blaming the students who have to work a lot both at school and after school.

I AM blaming the societies and generations that have taught us the slightest bit of rest = laziness.

We need to take it back and stop listening to those guys.

Has anyone else noticed that as a society, we’re shamed for wanting to sleep? Sleeping in is bad, naps are only okay if they’re 20 minutes, you cant be tired unless you’re a <insert career/lifestyle choice here>, so on and so forth.

I mean, I think we all need to spread our blankets out, cuddle a pillow, and go to sleep. Everyone needs more of it, fuck this “it’s not productive” nonsense. It’s okay to sleep, it’s okay to want to sleep. You’re not lazy because of it.