#and continues some more with finding or making communities of learning and practice and actual empathy

[malakaie]

steeples fingers

not to be cringe on main but 2025 is going to be the year of aggressively making time for the things that matter to me and spending less time on the things that don't

[fingertipsmp3]

How do I steer my friend who wants to learn a martial art with me towards karate and/or kickboxing without admitting that the only reason I don’t want to do MMA is because I’ll probably break my nails by punching stuff

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,�� it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[wordsnstuff]

Why does screenwriting have such a weird format? I know it's standard for scripts of all kinds, but it's also alien? It almost looks like it's designed for someone to write quickly??

Why are screenplays the way they are?

Screenplays are interesting pieces of writing because while they can read very beautifully, and quality is apparent in some scripts more than others, it is a medium that is extremely purposeful. The script is not the final destination of the idea, and that is what you have to remember. The script is, more than anything, a map. It gives the cast, crew, and producers the necessary information to get a sense of the story so that it can be adapted effectively. Therefore, the quality of a script is judged by a completely different rubrick:

Adaptability: Scripts are naturally going to go through many changes to serve the filmmaking process. Filmmaking is a fundamentally collaborative process so other members of the group must be able to effectively interpret the script well enough to make strategic improvements. Scripts are definitely works of art in their own right, but the design must account for adaptation into a completely different medium and you will not always be the person making executive decisions on how that is to be done.

Clarity: Creative liberty is acceptable in a lot of forms of writing, and style is definitely apparent in a screenwriter's work, but that is primarily to be found in how they practically form the elements of the story, rather than how it is delivered in words. The clearer your meaning and intent in a script, the easier it will be for the other people you're collaborating with to interpret and translate into the next medium. Even if your work is meant to be experimental, abstract, or avant garde, the script is the place where you make sure everyone that is inside of the production understands the point, so that they can help you make sure everyone outside of it is confused in the desired way. Your talent and style can be showcased in the way you demonstrate the particular brand of humor or suspense or drama in the descriptions, dialogue, and dialogue cues.

Efficiency: Format is extremely strict in the industry because it is a collaborative medium that often brings together hundreds of crew members who are all from different backgrounds/experience. The one thing that must remain consistent and reliable is the legibility of the script. The gaffer and the producer alike must be able to pick up the script and find what they need to learn in order to fulfill their role. The format of the script denotes specific crew member's cues in specific places so they know how to find what's expected of them quickly and efficiently. While on larger productions, there's often many directorial positions who are coordinating and communicating with the crew members who handle more detail oriented jobs, that isn't always the case.

My advice, if you're looking to gain experience in writing scripts that are actually meant to be adapted is to practice self-discipline, pragmatism, and distance. Your script won't always belong to you. There isn't the autonomy in screenwriting that you have in prose. Learn the rules of screenwriting, then learn how to enhance them in your own way.

Best of luck,

x Kate

–

Masterlist

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[lily-s-world]

Julie and the Phantoms vs. Julie e os Fantasmas

I had recently been practicing my Portuguese and listening to music in that language, which lead me to the soundtrack of Julie e os Fantasmas. The original Brazilian version of the show. Funny how music works, because the more I listened to the songs the more I remembered about the show. Which is why I decided to make a list about the main differences between the shows.

First, the Brazilian cast and the name of their counterparts so you know who am I referring to:

Side note before we start, their music is also pretty cool. My favorite one is Essa noite somos um so (Tonight we are one).  You can find it on Spotify:

The Brazilian show lasted 1 season with 26 episodes, which were divided in two parts from 2011 to 2012. However, the show was always planned with one season only, so it had a proper closure.

In the original version, Julie isn’t dealing with the loss of her mother. Her mother is alive but decided to take a job far away from them, which leads to Julie resenting her because she feels that her mother doesn’t care about them and only shows when it is convenient for her. This makes Julie feel invisible across her life.

Both shows revolve around music and how much Julie loves it. Julie (BR) suffers from stage panic, one of the reasons she had never sing in front of people. The phantoms help her with this. Also, her preferred instrument is the guitar.

The phantoms had a more tragic death on the BR version. They were trying to replicate The Beatles’ Abbey Road cover, but where hit by a truck and died instantly. One member was alive, but he retired from the music industry after the accident. They had been dead for over 30 years and were trapped on a vinyl record instead of a CD.  

The phantoms don’t have their instruments like the new version. After they help Julie with her stage panic, she buys them new instruments and decides to form the band.

The name of the band on the show is Os Insólitos (The Unusuals). They play in different venues and parties across the season. Unlike the new version, they sing the same songs repeatedly across the episodes. There are some special episodes where they reveal a new song.

The Julies share basically the same personality on both shows. Martim and Reggie are also really similar, being a flirt and a little bit clueless. Felix is way more anxious and fearful than Alex, he was scared of ghosts since he was a kid and being turned into one didn’t help with that. Daniel and Luke are probably the ones with different personalities, while Luke is this cutie that falls for Julie almost immediately; Daniel is egocentric and cold at the beginning of the show. It takes a long time for him to warm up to Julie and is resentful against the world for what happened to them. He had a lot of character development during the season.

Pedro (Carlos) and Bia (Flynn) learn about the ghost right after Julie does. Pedro and Martim develop a friendship based on pranks and jokes.

Julie, Pedro and Bia are the only ones that can actually see the phantoms. Whenever they play in the band, they hide behind masks and keep the idea as a mystery to attract followers.

Julie and Thalita (Carrie) were also friends when they were younger. The reason their friendship didn’t lasted, was because Julie realized that Thalita was a bully that picked up on other girls. Julie cut out all communication with her, which Thalita didn’t took well and continued to antagonize her until they were teens.

The main difference is that Caleb doesn’t exist in this original version, there is an agent of the Ghost Police that looks for the boys because he is convinced they escaped the rules of death. They should have crossed over, but never did. There also some kind of ghostbuster that is looking for them.

 At the end of the first part of the season, the boy say goodbye to Julie because they are planning to cross over; however it is later revealed that the ghostbuster capture them. They manage to escape and return with Julie.

Daniel develops feelings for Julie in the second part of the season, Julie also starts liking him, but she also likes Nicolas who had been her crush for years. Nicolas and Julie start spending more time together after he broke up with Thalita, and he develops feelings for Julie. At the end of the show Julie ends up choosing Nicolas, because she had liked him longer and he makes this grand gesture for her at school. She has a talk with Daniel about what they feel, and they both decide to still be friends and continue with the band.

Some fun facts: The show was sponsored by Monster High, so you can see a lot of merchandise in the show; Julie even dresses up as Frankie Stein for a Halloween party. The show was super popular, earning nominations for Kids Awards in LATAM.

[asimpwithfreetime]

!Spoilers for Avatar:The way of the water!

Could I get a story about yandare!Tsireya and yandare!Lo'ak being head-over-heels metkayina!reader who is completely oblivious to them? where they're going to confess but when they are done making her gifts and meat to give them, they're missing? Could they confess after she randomly goes missing for hours and the entire village is looking for them? Could she be found ranting to an akula(it's the animal that attacked lo'ak in the movie)? Pretty please🙏

Finally I can develop my yandere headcanons of Lo’ak and Tsireya 😈

-Is she mine or yours? -Ours (communism, ahem!, I mean, Yandere! Lo’ak x Metkayina! Reader x Yandere! Tsireya)

Content warning: English isn’t my first language and this hasn’t been proofread yet, I might be delusional at this point, sometimes the things I write make it seem like Lo’ak is horny for the reader, but my intention was to make him look obsessed, maybe I should practice my English more and actually learn more words.

General warnings: yandere behavior, oblivious reader, aged up! Lo’ak and aged up! Tsireya, polyamory, courting, double courting, cursing

Another day started for the Metkayina clan the Sullys had decided to stay with. War was over finally and everyone was happy and alive.

Neteyam ruffed Lo’ak’s hair. “So Tsireya and you are a thing now?” The eldest son smiled while laughing.

“Shut up!” Lo’ak shushed him while punching his arm. Neteyam laughed wholeheartedly, wincing when he felt the pain of his wounds still too fresh to move properly.

Lo’ak got up and went down to the beach where Tsireya awaited for him. “Lo’ak I must tell you something” she said hurriedly. “I do too”.

“I see you, Tsireya, but I also see someone else. I don’t know how to explain it is just-“ he was cut off “a connection, as if Eywa wanted us three together” Tsireya continued for him. Lo’ak was dumbfounded.

“So you also feel like this?” He asked. His eyes shone, he couldn’t hide his excitement. “Yes” she smiled, in response he kissed her forehead. “Is it Y/n?” Lo’ak asked.

Tsireya looked surprised, “Y-yes”. “We could court her together” he said.

“She could be ours” Tsireya said, the tone dropping. As they continued to talk their yandere side got wilder, but they both loved each other and had put their target on Y/n. Something else shone in their eyes every time they planned it.

Y/n was a normal Metkayina, with her duties and chores here and there. She had helped alongside the others in the war and she had tended Neteyam’s wounds. That way, Lo’ak got to know her. As he was often visited by Tsireya she also got to know the sweet Metkayina that stole their hearts.

But her sweet nature and her soft act made them both fall in love. And maybe even more than in love. She sparked a new sensation in them, making them obsess over her, they need to know where she is, who she is with and everything.

Speaking of which, when she saw Lo’ak and Tsireya on the beach she swam towards them. “Hey guys, how is it going?” She asked. “Is Neteyam doing better?” The way she worried, the cute concern written all over her face, she was perfect.

Even though, when they heard of Neteyam, the way his name rolled out of her tongue, they almost scoffed. “Oh, he is doing okay and we were going to look for cool shells, care to join us?” Tsireya said, smiling up to her. She nodded. “I have just finished my chores so, why not”.

Lo’ak helped her up to her ilu, even though she could have done it herself. He wanted to hold her. Just the short lived feeling of his hands in her waist was driving him crazy.

Once they were all riding their ilus, they took Y/n to a reef full of beautiful shells. And while Y/n was distracted looking at some fish, Lo’ak and Tsireya took it upon themselves to find gifts for her.

“Y/n! Look!” Lo’ak said, he gave her a (your favorite color) shell. It sparkled under the sunlight. “Oh, it is beautiful, Lo’ak” she responded. He saw the stars, he loved her voice and the way she said his name and the way her eyes looked at him. Her body, her frame, her personality, everything was a blessing from Eywa. He loved her and wanted her.

When she was about to give the shell back he said “you can keep it, it is a gif”. That was the beginning of the courting, even if Y/n didn’t have a clue.

From that they on, the would appear around her at random points of the day, asking to help her, gifting her stuff or showing off their skills. She thanked them with a smile, thinking it was just friends giving gifts to friends. She even returned the gesture with shells she had found and things like that.

“Bro” Neteyam called Lo’ak over in one of his and Tsireya’s courting sessions. “What?” The younger sibling huffed. “I think she isn’t noticing your advances, she is just being friendly” he deadpanned.

“No she is not! She is accepting our advances” Lo’ak responded angrily. “Look at her” Neteyam said. Lo’ak turned, it was true. You were playing with Tsireya on the water, splashing around.

Tsireya was blushing while Y/n played with a child-like nature. She was just having fun with a friend, while Tsireya didn’t notice.

After that, they planned the day that they would confess to her, no more playing.

The day came and as Lo’ak and Tsireya prepared everything, time passed. When it was time to search for Y/n they came with the surprise that she wasn’t there anymore.

“Where the fuck is Y/n?” Lo’ak grunted desperately. “I don’t know” Tsireya sighed. “We should look for her”.

Soon the whole village was searching for her, nobody could find her. Tsireya and Lo’ak went way over the reef to find her. Tsireya signed towards Lo’ak underwater “I see her, let’s be quiet”. Lo’ak nodded and followed her.

They hid behind some rocks and saw Y/n swimming supposedly alone. Until a huge Akula came over. Lo’ak started swimming towards her until he felt a tug on his tail. The Metkayina girl signed for him to stop and wait. He, pretty against his will, went back down.

“You wouldn’t believe it” Y/n signed to the akula. “There is an omatikaya boy and a Metkayina girl who are always with me” she told her friend happily. Lo’ak and Tsireya were dumbfounded.

“They are nice and always friendly, but I think I like them” she signed with fast movements. Tsireya and Lo’ak smiled at each other. The akula softly pushed against Y/n in a loving and caring movement. “You know how excited I can get” she laughed.

[megs-98]

i had to shower without music so naturally i spent the entire time thinking about what the datv companion/rook bathrooms would look like

i'm gonna add my thoughts under the cut but everything will be sfw, there's just going to be a lot of rambling cause i will be talking about every companion and my rook. also i haven't finished the game yet so some thoughts are definitely incomplete

now i don't know if the fade would generate bathrooms for each character or if this place that can seemingly produce anything would just plop down a communal bathhouse. but i like to think the caretaker would make sure each person has a personalized ensuite. i also think that these bath areas would change as you get farther along in that companion's quest, similar to how harding's room gets more and more plants in it as you do her quest.

like

harding, for example, would her shower start off as a waterfall cascading off of rocks. symbolizing her love and appreciation of her ancestors and then by the time you finish her quest would there be a massive leaf coming from the rock side causing the water to cascade down? similar to the giant flower coming from her ceiling, tying in her love of plants

or with davrin. at the start, would he just have a pond? of questionable water? cause those wardens are roughin it for sure. but then as he and assan find their turlum, the water clears and rock walls form so assan can jump into the water from different heights? giving both davirn and emmrich a heart attack cause we know manfred would want to give it a try

would neve have a small area with basically just a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a cloth? essentially only giving herself a bird bath cause she has leads to follow up on.. but as she continues through her quest and knows she has people to count on and is not alone in the world so she, for lack of a better word, grants herself time to enjoy a relaxing moment bathing, so an actual bathtub with nice soaps and soft towels appear. it doesn't need to be elaborate, she still enjoys things that are practical and get the job done

bellara's could go one of two ways in my head; either her shower would be more akin to rain falling through the tree canopy. or would it start as a small waterfall feeding into a stream. not sure how it would improve on itself from there though. maybe the foresty area comes more and more to life maybe having a calmed relic or two

taash, i think taash's would start as something more qunari centered, but as they learn more about themselves !and especially if rook encourages them to embrace their riviani culture! it would turn into a desert oasis and is just their small patch of paradise to enjoy however they choose to

emmrich i think his would be a practical bathroom but with a flair. i honestly haven't finished his questline yet but i know he's secure with himself and knows what he likes. so of course it would have all his creature comforts, maybe even have a box or something that would warm up his robe for him

lucanis would have a rather grandiose bathroom. he is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for style. he would have all the latest items popular with antivans, but he would prefer a small flow of water coming from the ceiling. could you imagine how broody he'd be in the shower, and it would probably cold too so he doesn't fall asleep. but then as he and spite are able to work together, he feels more comfortable to sit in a warm bath, appreciating how relaxing it can be, especially with a good glass of wine, hopefully even spite enjoying it to whatever extend he's able too

now for rook. my main rook is crow!rook, named yaryna (goes by yary) hers would definitely be practical but still have her favorite items. she's knowledgeable about plants, she is a poisoner after all, so she'd have eucalyptus hanging from the walls, some aloe vera, maybe an orchid or two. just a decent amount of high humidity plants, a *mirrorless* vanity table where she keeps her skin/hair care and makeup. and as she progresses through the story, finding more confidence in herself, a mirror would appear. her area wouldn't necessarily turn better, but she'd appreciate what she has, what she has always had, seeing the importance in "average" things, just as she does with herself.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

It says in your little thing that your Mormon, are you still Mormon cuz respectfully I've heard a lot of shit about Mormons and how they are very transphobic and homophobic! So not trying to be rude just genuinely wondering if I read that wrong or something.

Hey! Yeah, I am a mormon, but I love all my queer siblings, including/especially my trans people. But it's a complicated religion and I have a complicated relationship with it, so I understand the confusion.

The short answer is that I was raised mormon, continue to find a lot of comfort and truth in SOME of their teachings, and I am perpetually very pissed with a lot of their other teachings, cuz yeah, a lot of them are Not Good. So I'm mormon and mad about it. It's kind of like. . .imagine if you were raised Catholic and only really have good memories of your Catholic community and find a lot of comfort in teachings about God's love, but you absolutely despise the administration of the Catholic church and like, everything they say about queer people. It's like that.

The long answer is this:

A) The mormons get a bad rap on the internet for stuff that isn't actually true. If you ever have a specific question, I am happy to answer to the best of my abilities.

B) Having said that, a lot of the teachings of the mormon church regarding queer people are really really bad and I do not support or encourage this even slightly. I myself am queer, and I have to put up with hearing all kinds of queerphobic shit from the church all the time. And I hate it and I speak against it whenever it is safe for me to do so. It just. All of it goes soooo against the other teachings of the church. I am not the only queer member. There is an entire community of us on tumblr over here. We all work and suffer through it together.

C) I still believe in the stuff that's at the fundamentals of the gospel though. Namely, God exists and he loves all of us unconditionally. He sent us to Earth so that we could learn and grow and become happier through our experiences here. Free agency/the ability to make independent choices is very VERY important to him. He sent Jesus Christ to suffer for our sins so that when we do fuck it up, we don't have to live with that guilt forever. Jesus also suffered for our pain and sorrow so that we didn't have to and can bring us healing. We're supposed to love our neighbors with our whole hearts.

I also believe that Joseph Smith did translate the Book of Mormon, although he was still a human being who made mistakes and I don't believe in a LOT of the stuff he said and did. I doubt you've read the Book of Mormon, but it's really just The Bible Extended Edition. There's a reason it's full name is The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. It covers what the hell was going on in the Americas during the biblical times.

I also believe that God has chosen prophets for our modern day to continue giving us revelation. I also believe those prophets are mostly crusty old men with outdated personal opinions that they mistake for revelation, that they fuck it up a lot, and I wish a lot of them would hurry up and die so I no longer have to listen to their bullshit.

D) Religion and faith are personal. I'm not here to convert anyone, especially other queer people. I continue practicing my religion because I have had literal years and some really amazing people to help me sort out what is good and bad and to figure out what parts of it are best for me as a person. I understand that what's best for some people is literally none of it, and I also understand that while some people could benefit from just doing what I do, that the way the church treats queer people (and also women sometimes) does more harm than the good parts help. So while I talk about my religion sometimes, it's always more about my personal relationship with it and never to try to convert people. I fully support ex-mormons who left the church, because sometimes the environment can be truly toxic and the religious trauma they have experienced is real.

E) The culture of the church and the actual doctrinal teachings of the church are two very different things. Utah mormon culture is also different than regular mormon culture. All of these things have good aspects to them, but church culture and Utah mormon culture also have a lot of really harmful things too, and these don't even have anything to do with the crusty old men being homophobic/transphobic. I am also mad about this, and I also complain about this fairly frequently.

I'm glad you asked because I understand that this stuff can be confusing. I think it's impossible to be any kind of religious queer person and not have a really complicated and deeply personal relationship with your religion.

I hope that answered your question, and I completely understand if this makes my blog feel like an unsafe space for you and you feel like you need to unfollow me. I do, however, tag every church related post I make, both with a religion cw and the tumblr mormon tag. Do what's best for you, and much love.

Also, unrelated, but I really appreciate all the posts you make and every time I see a little notification from you on one of my posts, it makes me so very happy.

[ros3ybabe]

October Language Goals 🎀

I was thinking of posting a more structured study schedule for studying Japanese, but right now, I don't think that's a good idea because I'm not actually following a strict study routine or schedule. My available time to study varies so much on the day to day so having flexibility in how I study is definitely going to be and has been helpful.

These goals do help give me some useful guidance in how I use my study time, especially when I have a longer amount of time to study.

I am going to add an updated list of resources at the end of this post as I have found a good set of resources that are/will be helping me along this language journey.

🩷 Goals for the Month of October -

complete Genki I lesson 1 + lesson 2

build a flashcard list of 50-75 vocab in AnkiApp (currently 32/75)

learn 10-15 most common phrases/greetings

make a list of common things I say and find their Japanese equivalent

keep a 30+ day streak in Duolingo

keep a 30+ day streak in Busuu

post a speaking exercise per "chapter" in Busuu

test out WaniKani and see if I would like to utilize it as a resource

buy 2 to 5 manga in japanese (for future learning)

finish season 4 of Bungou Stray Dogs (for fun)

begin using AnkiDroid Genki I flashcard set in correspondence with the textbook lessons

start a beginner langblr challenge (either my own or find one to join in on)

I think this is a very doable list of goals given how busy my months and weeks have been. I will have a decent amount of free time, especially if I schedule all of my stuff efficiently. Now, on to a list of current resources!

🩷 Updated Japanese Language Resources -

Duolingo - I know she gets hated on but I love duolingo right now just for some daily practice on days where I have low energy or less time for studying. I turned off the romanji so I'm forcing myself to get more familiar either hiragana and katakana and I just find this app useful for vocab and silly daily practice.

Busuu - ohh, she has my heart right now. I actually bought premium for busuu for one year to give me time to actually use the app and get the most out of it. The audio is a little robotic sounding, but the exercises are helpful. They have speaking exercises that you can post to the community page and get native speakers to correct you! I honestly just love this app, and it also has a streak feature like Duolingo to keep me motivated to do some daily practice.

Renshuu - I still love renshuu as a resource because it’s the only reason I re learned the hiragana and katakana so fast, although I have not being using it as often lately. I still highly recommend the app! I want to keep using it and see how helpful it continues to be!

Language Drops - I like using this one to practice and learn some vocab every now and then. The free version only really lets you do five minutes a day but for a quick vocabulary review, that’s all I really need!

Genki I + II Textbooks and Workbooks - I've looked through the first lesson in Genki I and I honestly am so excited to use it once I have the time to sit down and study from it. My plan is to take notes from the textbook in my own notebooks, practice the exercises in the textbook and workbook, listen to the dialogue, and lots of flashcards!

Writing workbooks - I want to start using the two I have because I think it'll help me retain my knowledge of hiragana and katakana and even Kanji, once I get to the point where I'm learning Kanji.

Ankidroid/AnkiApp - These are two different apps, but they are both for flashcards. Their functionality is a bit different from each other, but they're still incredibly useful! I make my own flashcards in AnkiApp, but I use decks made by others in Ankidroid. This way I can keep studying what I already know but also can learn other things, if that makes sense? I'm using the Genki I deck on Ankidroid currently as I am preparing to use the Genki I textbook.

Google Keep Notes - I use keep notes to keep a record of my goals, resources, routines, etc. it’s so easy and simple to use and access, so I thought I’d mention it here

YouTube - I love watching YouTube videos about learning languages, thought I’m not advanced enough to start watching native Japanese content. Some YouTubers I like for their language tips are Tanya Benavente, Lidie Botes, and Zoe.languages. There’s a couple random videos about languages from, oh no Nina and The Bliss Bean, too.

that is all my goals and main current resources for the month of October. I’m thinking of starting like a language bullet journal, like a bullet journal/language tracking journal for Japanese? But I don’t know if I should? Maybe you guys can vote and give me some motivation to make a decision?

thank you guys! I did manage to complete most of my September goals, so that is definitely keeping me motivated right now! I haven’t had the most energetic of days but I think even a little bit of studying can be beneficial!

til next time lovelies! 🩷🤍

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Ilyecham

Presenting the results for the Ilyecham -- a name which continues to look wrong in Tumblr's sans-serif font. That's:

Ilyecham

There we go. As usual, if you're not sure what this is about, you may find an explanation at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting . The text from which the artists are working is here:

I saw one post saying something along the lines of "if these things are going to keep being birds, I'm going to have to learn more about bird-drawing." I regret to tell you that the Aberdeen Bestiary has a whole section on birds, so they are indeed going to keep coming up. They make up, like, a third of the entries I have queued. Sorry. Or, if you wanted motivation to practice your avian drawing skills, you're welcome.

Also, sorry this post is a couple hours later than usual -- I had Other Obligations this evening.

Anyway, here's the art, in roughly chronological order as per usual.

@embervoices (link to post here) has drawn both a colorful adult and a less-colorful juvenile, and moreover provides us with a quick vocabulary lesson, which I always enjoy because I'm a language nerd. (They also wrote their own image description -- thank you for that, saves me some time.) I absolutely love that the Ilyecham "greedily seizing larger birds" is here represented by a hatchling aggressively going after a "bewildered goose". The linked post includes some notes on design decisions also.

@miapcain (link to post here) has done another beautifully stylized picture, showing multiple Ilyechams and their aggressive behavior. I love the style of course, and I also like that these have an almost sandpiper-like body plan with long beaks, which they apparently use to stab other birds -- or at least I think that's what the one in the bottom right is doing, which I think is pretty cool. The blue heads are a nice visual touch also, I think. The kind of tiled geometric background feels very period-appropriate, exactly the sort of thing you'd see in a particularly richly-illuminated manuscript.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) notes that there aren't many visual details in the description, so she decided to draw a regular bird of prey and then add a wizard hat to indicate that it is armed with spirit, which I love. I actually laughed out loud when I saw her explanation of why the hat. Excellent choices, no notes. Also I think this is a pretty good bird drawing on its own merits, hat aside.

I continue to enjoy @rautavaara's drawing style (link to post here). I really like the way the rays of the sun are drawn here, specifically. Their Ilyecham is molting in an extremely dramatic fashion, missing whole clumps of feathers, which I think looks quite cool and communicates the idea well. (I worry a little bit about how long it's going to be able to stay in the sky with so many wing feathers missing, but they're apparently quite unpleasant birds, so maybe a rough landing is well deserved.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has drawn us a whole family of Ilyechams. Also in excellent medieval style, as usual -- the stylized drawing are kind of all in a cluster in this post. I like the plants; coolest-capybara is quite good at drawing plants in a way that looks just like the Unidentifiable Medieval Foliage you'd expect in a manuscript. We can see one parent exhibiting its molting behavior, another fighting a much larger bird, and three poor little juveniles walking off looking a bit dejected. Hits all the highlights of the description very well, I think. The linked post includes a brief description and a few close-up details of the image.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) would like to acknowledge that this is "kind of a mess" and "the wings are just gonna look like that", which I think is an example of artists holding themselves to very high standards because this looks very realistically rendered to me and I have no idea what might be wrong with it. That's a damn fine bird drawing right there. The linked post includes a pretty thoughtful explanation of which behaviors in the provided description are reminiscent of which birds, and how silverhart has combined elements of a few different birds to make this one.

@karthara (link to post here) has drawn us what is unmistakably a bird of prey, and briefly explains in the linked post what birds this is inspired by. I think the feather pattern is very interesting, particularly the blue on the head. Something about the way the shape of the pattern interacts with the bird's eye looks very cool. A certain je ne sais quoi, if you will.

@hairycarrot (link to post here) has done a pretty cool-looking sun in the corner of the page. One of the unexpected things I'm enjoying about these is that multiple artists decided to have fun with how to draw the sunshine in which the Ilyecham spreads its wings. Poor little guy falling out of the nest there... buddy I don't think that one is quite ready to fly.

@treesurface (link to post here) shows us an Ilyecham creating a breeze by beating their wings, as described in the entry, which I like. Their Ilyecham is equipped with a dangerous-looking pointed beak for the purpose of fighting larger birds, and the look in its eyes definitely helps with that impression. The linked post provides an explanation of design decisions.

@strixcattus (link to post here) notes that the description provided reminds them of a number of small raptors, but that all of those raptors look kind of alike, so they've given their Ilyecham a striking feather pattern to stand out from the crowd. I really like it, the pattern is excellent. I also like that we're seeing the return of an animal from a previous entry: that thing it's grabbing in its claws is a Holghras chick from a couple weeks ago. (Though I'm slightly torn because I like those little muppets, and the Holghras has enough problems without being attacked by an Ilyecham.) Strixcattus has again provided us with a modernized description of the creature in question, which is amazing as always. If any of y'all enjoy worldbuilding half as much as I do, you owe it to yourself to read these.

@moustawott (link to post here) has drawn us a very small-looking bird here, performing stationary flight to aid in its molting behavior. The feather pattern is very good, in my opinion, and I like how the molted feathers are kind of blowing away behind it. Also an excellently-rendered bird in general.

@pomrania (link to post here) envisions the Ilyecham as looking old and grumpy to fit the vibe of its described behavior -- an early draft of this drawing includes a speech bubble reading "get a job you freeloaders", which I think hits the mark pretty well. (For early drafts and additional commentary on the design, see the linked post) I like the eyebrows, I like the severe color scheme over most of the body paired with the colorful wings, and I like that this is the closest to what I pictured when I read about the Ilyecham, namely this:

(Not that it's an eagle, but you know. Vibes.)

@mobileleprechaun (link to post here) has very clearly depicted a small bird attacking a larger one. They note "heavy Season’s Greason’s inspo" and you know what? I totally see it. I also enjoy the decision to make the larger bird a dodo.

Another cool pen drawing from @cheapsweets (link to post here), who also has some thoughts about how this particular nib works for drawing. Pretty well done birds, I think. I enjoy the one on the right just shoving the juvenile out of the nest, and the stylized sun is also pretty cool. The linked post includes a detailed explanation of the design decisions, and also has some questions about the entry that are probably rhetorical, but I figure I can try and shed some light on a couple of them anyway.

Again, we have a lot of behaviours, but nothing in terms of a physical description… Did the author just thing ‘everyone knows what birds look like’, was this just a bird that the reader was expected to be familiar with, or were they all like 'I’m not describing yet another bird… :p’?

I think it's a little of all of those, and also that the author tends to be more concerned with the symbolism of the animal than naturalistic description. So if, say, the color of its feathers doesn't have a symbolic meaning attached to it, the author won't bother to tell you. Related to that...

Hang on, this is going to be some kind of inspirational virtuous animal thing, isn’t is… :p I can imagine some medieval scribe writing 'and so, the ilyecham represents the cardinal virtue of fortitude’ or something…

Interestingly, this bird's parenting style is basically the only part of its description that doesn't have any symbolic explication attached. The molting in the south wind gets, like, pages of material though, including the fantastic assertion that it's the south wind because God comes from the south but the Devil comes from the north. Literally, that's what it says:

God, it is said, will come from the south. The Devil from the north; God from the south.

Moving on, let's take a look at the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration.

Honestly, that also kind of looks like Sam the Eagle.

However, this is the entry for the Hawk. Yep. Turns out hawks are inherently opposed to the welfare state, which... actually lines up more than it should with present-day politics.

I don't have much more to add here, because most of my thoughts on hawks boil down to "Tobias was a pretty good character in the Animorphs series".

Pretty sure that's not how wings work, anatomically. But nevertheless. End of post.

[ohmypawsandwhiskers]

It's WIP Wednesday!

I actually remembered this time!

Here's a snippet of the birthday thing I've been working on for Erwin's birthday (however late I may be)

The cobwebs crowd the corners and crevices of the abandoned school house, making the single classroom and it’s long tables seem more like a mausoleum than a former place of learning. Beyond the grimy glass, the people of Emmrich distract amble about their way, wearing smiles and bright eyes as the mourning of the teenage boy goes unnoticed, save for whomever just waltzed in behind him.

“Erwin, we were looking everywhere-“ her voice, that is beginning to become a soothing constant in his life, pauses as Dani’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He swallows back the tears once more and turns to face her with a raised eyebrow. “You were looking for me?”

He hardly expected anyone to be around- it’s why he is here in the school house, spending his first birthday alone in the musty room. It is the closest he can get to spending it with his father, even if it is a ghost of a memory. Even if his mistake cost him his father- all so the government could ensure the peace and prosperity continued.

She tilts her head slightly, golden eyes scanning him over for some sign of a joke. “Seriously? Didn’t you get my letter?”

He shakes his head, trying to piece together what might have brought her here.

“So, you’re telling me I went through the effort of practicing my letters only for it to not reach you? See, this is why I didn’t learn to write in the first place! What’s the point of learning a different form of communication if it doesn’t even reach the person, huh?”

“You wrote me?” It comes a shock. The times he tried to work with her on her penmanship as she bemoaned the entire process- doing everything it took to not sit down and learn that he had been afraid to tell Chief he would be unable to actually teach her.

“Yeah!” She throws up her hands in exasperation. “I actually put effort into it, making it all fancy and shit for you, only to find out you didn’t get to see all your hard work payoff!” Dani huffs and looks around the room, distracted from her tirade as he can practically see the cogs in her mind wheeling as they piece together this place. The frustration fades from her face and relaxes into cautious understanding. “Your dad’s school house?”

Erwin can feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he nods, crossing his arms over his chest as he prepares himself for questions.

“It’s a bit of a shit-hole now, isn’t it?” Her words remind him of their first interaction less than a year ago- it had been brisk and jarring, but he found her words and tone sometimes failed to reflect the underlying emotion behind it all. “You’re choosing to spend a beautiful day inside some neglected place conveniently forgotten by the district’s lords instead of being outside?”

“It’s my birthday,” he admits, knowing she would drag this conversation out if he didn’t head her off. “It’s the first one on my own, and I suppose I just wanted to not be alone.”

Dani purses her lips to hide a smirk. “Hmm, yes, spiders do make great companions. Great conversationalists, I’ve heard.”

“Is there a point to your sarcasm, Dani?”

“Yes, it’s to get you out of your cruddy mood and get going! We’re going to be late! I’m just laying out your choices: spend your birthday chatting to ghosties and spiders, or spend time with me and a bunch of folks that care about you.”

Like the scales of justice she holds out her hands on either side of her, rocking side to side with the imaginary weight of his choices. Erwin reaches out and catches her wrist mid-drop to halt the movement.

“You never did say where we were going- that’s hardly enough to sway a choice. Maybe spiders would be the perfect birthday companions.” Already, his glum mood is starting to crack as a small smile accompanies his counterpoint.

No pressure tags: @askweisswolf @jayteacups @sleepy-sham @deepmushrooms @topaz-carbuncle @the-rebel-archivist @the-mpreg-guy and anyone else that would like to do this! I always get nervous tagging folks

[devildevotee]

hello! we hope this is ok to ask, it's totally fine if you don't answer- but we've recently become interested in satanism and demon work, but we know exactly nothing about it or where to start. we did some basic research with academic sources like wikipedia but have no idea where to go from there. we're hesitant to just dive in on our own because we know there are a lot of bad sources and groups to avoid but don't actually know what those things are.

anyways, we trust your opinion and recommendations so we wanted to ask if you had any suggestions on how to go about researching and learning about theistic satanism for an absolute beginner! recommended books or articles, groups to avoid, red flags, anything like that would be very appreciated 💚 thank you so much!

okay so, this may be a controversial opinion but in my opinion (KEY WORD OPINION) you actually shouldn't only stick to unproblematic and valid uwu authors, because i'll be honest (in terms of satanism and demonolatry), there ARE no pure and good authors out there. every author out there, especially if you're reading a text from a long time ago, is going to have something you disagree with. you need to practice some form of critical engagement, additionally, because engaging with a text critically and understanding why it is wrong is way more important than just shutting out the information altogether. you will not learn anything if you pretend that problematic texts do not exist. i'm not saying this to be harsh, but there is a reason we research a variety of texts and perspectives in high school english class. you need to continue that kind of method when researching anything.

now that is covered, i'll tell you what i have read personally. taking the above into consideration, there are no authors here that don't have something deeply wrong about their texts. i did read their works, and i came to my own conclusions on whether i'm going to dub them an authority on satanism, and i suggest you do the same. satanism is about knowledge and drawing your own, unique conclusions. just make sure what you do adopt doesn't throw any groups of people under the bus, because we're not here to read books and thoughtlessly believe whatever the book says, especially when the book can have misinformation, or offensive content. this is very common in satanism; as much as people love to treat it like it's revolutionary and all-accepting, it can be just as, or even more, discriminatory or outright hateful as christianity, especially in the texts.

the most easy-to-find material:

ars goetia > pretty basic info, but very handy and simple to read

the infernal gospel > probably my favourite book on this list

the complete book of demonolatry > i don't agree with the author, but i got this one in my early days before i knew anything about said author. it's got some useful information, but there's a lot of misinfo

book of the fallen > useful rituals if i remember correctly, i sold this book so i can't recheck

at satan's altar > also an interesting book

the goetia devils > has a lot of what i assume is upg... seems to conflict with what i've seen from other practitioners

the goetic hymns > second favourite book

the satanic philosopher > i found this one hard to read personally

esoterica > youtube channel with amazing information on demonolatry and its history, i suggest getting into this before doing anything else.

all of these websites.

and lastly, i also got like 50+ older texts i got as a bundle off etsy that i can't remember the names of. i wish i could give them to you, but i genuinely have lost every single text i got in the bundle due to me changing computers. i suggest looking on etsy for similar bundles on satanism and demonolatry if you want to get into the historical meat of things.

that being said, my actual last thing i want to say is not to get too entrenched into the theory. the texts are handy, sure! but the one thing i have found the most useful is by engaging with the community. most of my wealth of knowledge did NOT come from texts or media, it came from those around me talking about their experiences. if you want to learn, and i mean REALLY learn about demons and satan, get into the community hardcore and you will learn something new every day. talk to people, make friends, don't do this alone.

edit: okay one more thing. this does go against what i was saying to some degree but i do have a limit to that logic. avoid joy of satan. they're n/eonazis and come on this website regularly. avoid them, avoid them, avoid them.

[waxwing-cedrorum]

My tav returns as the subject of my pose practice and silly doodles.

I need to come up with a different name for him so that he isn’t just using my name. But for now he can keep Cedar lmao.

Some backstory is under the cut because bg3 really doesn’t go into main character backstory (totally understandable) so I’m making up my own.

Cedar was a student at a monk monastery after being found as a child. The Monastery was a very harsh home and did not foster much of a familial environment for him. Their training was grueling and they believed more in punishment as a means of motivation rather than any form of kindness or comradery.

He spent most early days hiding from training and reading stories of adventurers and daydreaming of seeing the world himself someday. This unfortunately lead to many punishments over his lifetime there and the scars remain from that along his back and arms. Many years pass with him training under their rules while constantly making escape attempts. As the repercussions for his escape attempts became more and more extreme though he slowly began to give up. His training continued and he slowly grew more and more viscous in his fighting and training just to stay alive.

In what he believes were his early 20’s he finally realized the monastery was hiding many darker secrets than he ever knew. Learning that most of the “lost children” brought to the monastery were not actually lost but stolen was the last straw. He began trying to escape again and eventually when they were about to find a more permanent solution to his disobedience he managed to break free. It was not pretty and not a clean break and he has been on the run ever since. He spent most of his time living in the wilds and staying far away from most civilization due to his fears of being dragged back. He held onto his kindness, fighting tooth and nail to still believe he should be kind, but due to his lack of experience in social communication he struggles a lot with coming off sincere and getting people to believe him. This tends to lead to him winding up in fights he would much rather dodge. And once a fight starts his years of training tend to take over and he will fight to the death if needed.

This was his life for a couple years until one day a strange ship appeared out of the sky and he found himself trapped in a pod without a single clue what the hell he had gotten himself into.

[tinyinvadr]

Alright, here it is! I wrote a little flashback one-shot about Flint’s first week at Whispering Rock. I’ll probably start working on the Rhombus of Ruin fic soon, but I just wanted to write this little piece since I love the dynamic he has with Sasha and Milla so so much.

Flint’s First Week

“Alright… Thank you… Please get back to me if you find anything.”

I had spent about a half hour making phone call after phone call, trying to get in contact with Flint’s parents. With how tight-knit the psychic community is, I was sure someone had to know him or his family, but it was strange. It was like they didn’t exist.

Though, the boy was an unusual case in general. I wouldn’t have even known he was at camp if he hadn’t snuck into my levitation class. I tried to calmly ask him who he was and where he came from, but he panicked and ran off.

It had been two days since he first started showing up in my class, and Sasha and Morceau had also seen him in their minds, behaving in a similar fashion. He was very skittish, didn’t speak much, and would run away if any of us approached him directly. The only pieces of information any of us were able to get from him was his name, and the fact that he used invisibility to hide himself in the physical world for some reason.

Yet, he was stubborn. He was clearly intimidated by us, and seemed to hold a lot of guilt for coming here without his parents knowing. Still, he continued to sneak into every class, trying to learn everything he possibly could while avoiding our questioning.

Even though his resilience was impressive, he couldn’t stay at Whispering Rock without his parents’ permission. I would either need to get a confirmation from them that he could stay, or get them to come pick him up.

Neither of those options would be possible if I couldn’t reach them at all.

It was getting late, so I had to put my search on hold for a while to round up the children and get them into their cabins for the night.

Sasha and I split up this task, him taking care of the boys while I handled the girls. It could be a bit of a challenge, especially the first couple nights. The kids would either be too excited to sleep, or some would be nervous and homesick. But that’s all in a day’s work for a Psychonaut. Helping people manage their emotions is one of the most important things we do.

I went through my list, and all of the girls were accounted for except for Lili. Thankfully, she wasn’t too far. I found her near a patch of flowers, trying to communicate with them.

“Darling, it’s time for bed. You can practice your herbaphony more in the morning.”

She sighed, standing up and glaring at the flowers.

“I just don’t get why it’s taking so long. My dad said he started talking to plants at my age, so why can’t I?”

“We all learn at a different pace, Lili. I’m sure you’ll get it, but it takes time. Now, get some rest, clear your head, and you can try again tomorrow.”

Lili pouted, begrudgingly following me to the cabin. She truly was her father’s daughter. Always wanting to learn something new.

Once all of the children were in bed, I went over to the boys’ cabin to check on Sasha. I found him sitting on the front steps, a forlorn look on his face as he took a drag on a cigarette.

“Something on your mind, darling?”

He sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m… not sure how to talk about this.”

I sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling.

“Sasha, you know you can tell me anything. We’re partners, after all.”

He blushed, giving me a confused look for a second, only to quickly regain his composure.

“It’s about Flint…”

“Have you gotten in contact with his parents?”

“No, and I’m not sure we can. He’s… He’s not like us, Milla.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Sasha paused, trying to figure out how to put it into words. I waited patiently for him to speak, but the period of silence felt way longer than it actually was.

“He’s a borrower.”

That… explained a lot, actually.

Borrowers are common knowledge among psychics, given that we can read minds. It’s a bit of an unspoken rule in the PSI community to leave them alone if you come across them. They aren’t in a place where they feel comfortable interacting with humans, and until they are, the best thing we can do is respect their privacy and boundaries.

But this was a unique case. Flint was a child. A psychic child. A psychic child who was alone, away from his family, and clearly scared. Exceptions had been made before for this exact situation.

“Where is he? We have to find him before he gets hurt!”

“He’s been staying in my lab, but we can’t intervene.”

“Sasha, he’s a child, we have to!”

“No… No, we can’t. Milla, if he finds out that we know about him, he’ll run.”

He did have a point. Flint kept running away even in the mental world. But he also kept coming back. He was determined to learn, even though he was afraid.

“But it seems like he wants to stay here. Maybe if we calmly explain that we aren’t going to hurt him, he’ll stick around to talk things out.”

Sasha sighed.

“We can’t take that risk. I’m not sure how he got here, but he likely stowed away with one of the campers. If he runs, he has no way of getting home. He’ll be alone, at the mercy of nature itself, not to mention the psitanium-affected wildlife.”

“But we have to do something. Does he know how to survive on his own? Can’t we at least leave resources out for him?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in that, but we’ll have to be subtle about it. There’s no telling how he’d react if he found out.”

I didn’t like keeping this a secret. Flint clearly wanted to make a name for himself as a psychic, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered coming to Whispering Rock. But if he wanted that to happen, he would have to tell us the truth eventually.

I was worried that the longer we kept pretending we didn’t know his secret, the more upset he would feel when the truth got out.

“We can’t do this forever. He’s going to find out at some point. I agree that we shouldn’t confront him directly, and he should tell us on his own terms when he’s ready, but until then, we need to do everything in our power to make sure he knows that he’s safe and welcome here. Otherwise… he could end up running off regardless.”

Sasha nodded, taking another long drag as he was lost in thought.

“Then that’s our best course of action. Help him from a distance, and offer whatever guidance he seeks when he drops into our classes.”

“In that case, we should probably tell Ford and Morceau.”

He winced at the mention of the coach’s name.

“Do we HAVE to tell Morry? You know how he is…”

He adorably pouted in protest, as if that would do anything other than make me wanna kiss him.

“He’s… eccentric, sure. But he’s a professional, darling. He would never harm a student.”

With that in mind, we arranged a meeting in Ford’s sanctuary, and we all agreed to help Flint however we could, whether it was leaving out resources for him, or taking the time to help him adjust in the mental world.

The next day, when he appeared in my levitation class again, he cautiously approached me.

“Um… Agent Vodello? Can I… stay after class and do a one-on-one lesson? I don’t really like having the other kids watch me.”

That was probably the most he’d spoken to me since he arrived, so that was a good sign.

“Of course, darling! I know it can be hard to adjust in a new place with new people, so if you think this will help you get more comfortable here, then we can give it a try!”

“Thank you. Also… I’m sorry I keep running away. This is all so new to me, and I just don’t wanna mess up.”

I smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes widened in disbelief. This must have been strange for him. Even though his projection was in human form in the mental world, he was still very aware that he was a borrower, and this kind of interaction could never happen in the physical world.

“Messing up is how we learn, Flint. It can be scary, but you have to keep trying. Figure out what works and what doesn’t, and move forward from there.”

He nodded, smiling for the first time since I met him.

“You’re right. I’ll keep trying. And one day… I’ll be a Psychonaut!”

“I’m sure you will. But you’ve still got some growing to do.”

He chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

I had to stifle a laugh. It was clear he was feeling better if he was already joking about his situation. Of course, I couldn’t let him know I got the joke.

For the rest of that first week, the other counselors and I met up every night after the campers went to sleep to discuss Flint’s progress.

Our efforts to guide and encourage him were proving effective, and he was already starting to show a lot of potential. Small as he was, he had a powerful mind. Even Morceau seemed impressed with him, which was rare for him to admit.

At the end of the week, I went with Sasha to his lab after our nightly meeting, since he had been working on something and he wanted to show me. When we got there, we were met with the sight of Flint, fast asleep on the workbench.

I had to do a double take. I knew he was tiny, but this was my first time seeing him in person.

Sasha slowly approached the workbench, looking concerned.

“What is he doing out here?” He whispered.

I walked over to stand beside Sasha, and then, I noticed that Flint had fallen asleep on an opened issue of True Psychic Tales. Specifically, it was one about the two of us.

“I think he was just doing some late night reading. Maybe he wanted to get to know us better?”

“Well, he’s not gonna accomplish much from reading that. They’re heavily exaggerated.”

“Aww, let him have fun, darling. He deserves it.”

Flint seemed to be at ease, considering how sound asleep he was. I was worried he would hear us and wake up, but that wasn’t an issue. Still, I couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable sleeping on a comic book.

Sasha thought the same, and used his Telekinesis to move Flint into his bed, which he had made out of a matchbox and pieces of cloth. We could only hope he wouldn’t notice we moved him when he woke up, but he had to have been so tired that it would be easy for him to believe that he simply didn’t remember going to bed.

“How long do you think it will be until he fully trusts us?”

“It’s hard to say. But we’ll just have to be here for him until then. However long it takes.”

[elminx]

2024 Year in Review

2024 was an intense year for me (and for most of us, I suspect). I like to look back at my year and see what happened because my memory is a bit weird, and without documentation, I can convince myself that I did absolutely nothing this year.

Since this is my public-facing account, I will talk here about the public side of things. The biggest thing that happened for me this year was that Meta announced they are now using all public content on their sites (Facebook, Insta, and Threads) to train their AI, which caused me to lock down all of my photography content. This sucks because I've been selling photography for years now, and (Instagram, especially) that's a way for new clients to find me.

Plus, I'm the kind of person who needs interaction with my art. I wish that I wasn't (and I definitely do make art entirely for myself). But I photograph things to share with other people. I needed an outlet. After some careful research, it turns out that Tumblr is one of the few sites that protects artists from AI crawlers!

So, I made myself an art page:

It's still in its infancy, but I'm proud of it. It's only my cemetery photography from Massachusetts, and I may end up making a second page for other photography I take, but I'm pretty happy with how this is going.

Here on my witchier side of Tumblr, I mostly posted about astrology (all transit stuff), Numerology, and Cottage Craft (food and projects).

I soup posted a bunch about French Onion soup for banishment, turning soup into a harvest ritual, and the soup I make when I'm too sick to witch about it.

Other random kitchen posts were about my Anti-Anxietea, Pesto to Beat the Winter Blues, my long-form lemonade recipe for cleansing and clearing out your space:

I wrote a lot about Numerology and have actually created a masterpost for this work that I will try to keep up with.

My favorite magical revelation for the year was in learning to create candles out of egg-shell molds to work the intentions of new beginnings - this is a practice I intend to incorporate into my life every spring around the Spring Equinox. I have plans for this concept; expect to see more as we roll into the new year.

I've also done quite a bit of work increasing my astrological offerings over on my Kofi site. You can get a natal birth chart reading, a transit report reading (comparing your birth chart to the month's transits), synastry (astrological compatibility) readings, or readings focused on how your chart aligns with the planets from a more magically minded perspective.

I have some big writing plans for the new year. I've been meaning to write about Naming for a while now, but it's tricky to quantify because I had to teach it to myself. I'd like to continue my series on Numerology since it gets so maligned in a lot of the magical community, and it's such a good resource for spell crafting. I still have a bunch of recipes I'd like to share, and I'd like to continue to document the parts of my practice that I can share and make public.

That said, I'm curious, friendly reader - what would you like to see more of from me in the year ahead? Feel free to respond to this, send me an ask, or a PM. You never know what could spark a whole series or maybe just a rant.

I hope all of our New Year's are kind.

-Minx

[imtrashraccoon]

This is a lighter chapter compared to the last one but I still put a little lore in it just for you, dear readers.

@scrambledmeggys

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Day 17: Languages

"You Know What I Find Interesting?" Papyrus asked out of nowhere one afternoon while you were sitting together on the couch.

You looked over at him quizzically. "What's that?"

"It Is Interesting How You And Frisk Can Communicate So Well Just By Making A Few Gestures With Your Hands," he said thoughtfully. "Is It Something All Humans Can Do?"

You chuckled softly and shook your head. "No, we had to learn and most humans don't know the language because they don't need to."

"Do Humans Have Multiple Languages Then?"

"So many," you said. "I couldn't even begin to tell you how many there are. I only ever learned sign language in order to communicate with Frisk but I'm still a bit rusty at it compared to them."

Upon hearing their name, Frisk glanced up from the drawing they were working on at the coffee table. They smiled warmly at you and Papyrus before going back to colouring.

You smiled back at them. After a few minutes of silence, you spoke again but in a slightly lower voice this time. "As far as I know from what little I've talked with their parents, Frisk just doesn't talk, even though they know how. They were put in special classes at school which is where they learned sign language. When we first met, Frisk was still learning but they didn't have many people to practice with. That's one reason I learned actually, so they could practice more."

"That Is Admirable," Papyrus hummed thoughtfully. He shifted slightly closer to you so he could put his arm around your shoulders and hold you close. "Do You Think Their Parents Miss Them?" he whispered in your ear.

You didn't answer at first as you considered his question. "Probably, it's only natural to miss someone once they're gone, especially if they're part of your family," you finally concluded.

You could feel Papyrus' eyelights on you. Turning to look at him, you could see he could tell you hadn't been entirely truthful. He didn't press further but his eye sockets were slightly narrowed as if he was silently judging your vague answer.

You sighed and glanced away. "I really don't know, Papyrus. I hope they do, but...they always seemed to act like they didn't care. They seemingly made no effort to learn how to communicate with their own kid and for crying out loud, they let them hang out with a complete stranger."

You chuckled and ran a hand over your face before continuing. "I tried to communicate my concerns with them but they always brushed me off. I tried not to get involved at first but I couldn't shake the feeling that something awful could happen to them. So, I started spending time with them and we became friends."

Papyrus nodded quietly, "Wow... I Can See Why You Care So Much About Them."

"Yeah, I want them to be alright but there's only so much I can do." You sighed, "I wish I could do more some days."

He squeezed your shoulder in a comforting way. "You Are Doing A Good Job All Things Considered," he said.

You smiled slightly at him. "Thanks."

After a moment's silence, you had a question for him and wanted to talk about something more positive anyways. "You and Sans seem to have no issue understanding Frisk. How do you know sign language?"

"Oh, I Do Not Actually Know Sign Language. I Can Understand Them Though Even If I Do Not Remember How To Replicate The Gestures." He thought for a moment before adding, "It Is Just Something I Know, But I Can Also Read Their Intent And Get An Idea Of What They're Saying That Way."

Sans teleported into the living room just then and after glancing at the three of you, he stepped into the kitchen.

"How does that work? Is it like magic based?" you asked, barely registering Sans' presence.

Papyrus looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "Sort Of? Monsters Are Made Of Magic So Most Things We Do Have To Do With Magic. Intent Is Like Reading The True Desires Of Your Soul And Is Quite Useful In Communicating With Others," he explained.

Sans came back into the living room with a mustard bottle in hand and you motioned for him to come closer. He tilted his skull curiously and walked over to the couch. " 'sup?" he asked.

"Papyrus just told me he can understand Frisk, despite not knowing sign language himself. Are you able to as well?"

Sans hummed in agreement, "yep, i think there's two reasons for that. intent, as paps mentioned, but the way i see it, sign language is just similar to wing dings."

"Wing Dings?" you asked, but Sans just shrugged and started to walk away. He was apparently uninterested in explaining it to you.

Papyrus seemed a bit surprised. "I Had Not Thought Of That," he murmured thoughtfully. Seeing your visible confusion, he smiled and decided to elaborate a little.

"You Would Not Be Able To Tell As You Cannot Read Intent, But All Skeletons Speak In Unique Tones And Are Traditionally Named After Typefaces Or Fonts To Reflect This. I Am Named After The Papyrus Typeface, While My Brother Is Named After The Comic Sans Typeface."

"That's interesting. So what is Wing Dings then?" you asked again.

"Wing Dings Is An Old Tone, However There Is No Record Of Anyone Being Named After It, At Least Not That Either Of Us Could Find. It Is Almost Like A Separate Language And Heavily Relies On The Listener's Ability To Read Intent In Order To Understand The Speaker. While We Understand It Regardless, The Strange Thing Is That Neither Of Us Can Remember Learning It."

"Languages aren't normally something that you can suddenly just know, unless I'm wrong and it works differently for Monsters?"

"I Do Not Believe So. Monsters Do Not Have Nearly As Many Languages As Humans Do, So While It Is Curious That We Know This Language, It Ultimately Does Not Matter."

You frowned slightly, "You mentioned before that neither of you really remember much of your early childhood. Maybe you learned Wing Dings but forgot about learning it?"

Papyrus sighed and shook his skull. "There Is No Way Of Knowing Now As We Are The Only Skeletons Left." He said it so casually, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you by saying that.

You stared at him in shock. You couldn't imagine being the last of your kind, let alone having never met any of your own.

Seeing your concerned reaction, he patted your shoulder reassuringly. "It Is Alright. Sure, We Have Often Wondered Why We Were Completely Alone And Without Memory Of Our Parents. But, The Main Reason Seems To Be Because Almost All Skeletons Were Wiped Out During The War And There Are No Records Of Any Surviving Skeletons In The Years Afterwards."

You didn't know what to say after all that. So instead, you snuggled a bit closer to him and he responded by gently nuzzling the top of your head.

It suddenly occurred to you that it had been almost a full month since you'd even considered leaving to try to return to the surface with Frisk. While you knew that it was currently impossible, you'd also started to feel at home here. What with everything that had happened and then Undyne finding out about you two, there was no way you wanted to leave any time soon.

You found yourself wanting to be there for not just Frisk, but Papyrus as well now that you'd come to understand him better. You wanted to open your life to him and make more happy memories together. You wanted to tell him how you truly felt about him too.

You wanted to love again.