#and i love how as well as releasing it as a whole on like the season 3 dvd-

[call-me-chips]

Alrighty this is gonna be long but I'm bored so HERE WE GOOO

Kyomu Mori questions

1.Are they associated with a certain colour? What colour do they wear the most?

Because if his hair colour, I'd say he's accosiated with light blue. He usually wears more muted-ish colours like grey, dark blue, and white, but he loves wearing yellow

2. What sort of music would they like? Have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? Do they have a favorite song?

He prefers rock music. Basically any music that makes you feel like you can take on the world. He loves vibing to those. And just because I don't have a fav song, neither does he 😅 (my fav songs change within a week)

3. Weapon of choice? Any particular reason they chose their weapon?

Guns. Any kind of gun, though he prefers pistols and other small, handheld ones. He likes guns because he's always been talented with them. That, and that he was raised by Snipe

4. How crafty/resourceful are they?

I'd say about a 7-7.5 out of ten for this one. Not the greatest, but he can conjure up some resourcefulness when he wants to

5. How do they typically dress? Does their wardrobe lean more toward practicality or aesthetics?

Depending on how he's feeling, his clothing choice changes. On a good day, he'll go for a nice-fitting tank top. On a bad day, he night go for a loose-fitting t-shirt. His clothing style is casual, but kinda aesthetic in a sort of steetsy-kinda way(??). Fashion/aesthetics are important for him, but you'll never catch him wearing anything with pockets he can't shove his whole hand into

6. How do they wear their hair? Do they care a lot about how their hair looks?

He almost always wears his hair in a high ponytail. Although he does this to get his hair out of the way, he always makes sure his hair looks presentable. He's the kinda guy to use a bit too much conditioner

7. Favourite animal? Why?

Dogs. Specifically german shepherds. Because he thinks guard dogs are cool af

8. Do they have a nickname? Who gave it to them? If it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

His nickname is Kyo. Ashido gave him it randomly one day, and Kaminari immediately started using it too

9. Favourite food? Least favourite? Are they a picky eater? Do they have any dietary restrictions?

Fav: Burgers. Specifically bacon burgers. Least fav: Tomatoes. He's not really a picky eater, but he's not even TOUCHING anything woth tomatoes in it. And he doesn't have any dietary restrictions

10. If they wear jewelry, what kind? Do they prefer silver or gold? Do they have a favourite gem?

He wears earrings and has an eyebrow piercing, but he'll toss on a necklace or two if he wants to look presentable when going out

11. What do they have in common with you? How are they different? Would you get along with them?

He doesn't have a lot in common with me. Ig we both question authority?? Also we both live guns. Overall, he's MUCH more confident than me. We are quite different. I'd say I wouldn't get along the greatest with him, mainly cuz he likes physical touch, and that is something I HATE. You touch me randomly and I freeze, as well as shoot you a dirty look XD

12. How long have they been around? Do you know their birthday? Is their birthday the day you made them or another day? What do they think of celebrating birthdays?

He has been around for 16 and a bit years, and his birthday is on April 6th. This is not the day I made him (actually this is the first I'm hearing of making their release date into their actual birthday. I shall do this for another of my ocs :) ). He loves his birthday cuz it gives him attention xD

13. What languages do they speak? How fluently?

He can speak Japanese, English, and Filipino. He speaks Japanese fluently. His English isn't the greatest, but he's learning from school. His Filipino is REALLY rusty, but he can hold a basic conversation. He knows Filipino because his father is from the Philippines, and he learned the language as a kid, but he hasn't really used it since highschool

14. Are they any good with numbers?

Not really sure how to interpret this, but he's not the greatest at math

15. How big or small is their family? Who did they live with growing up? Do they live with anyone now?

His parents died. He lived with Snipe growing up. Currently, he's living in the UA dorms

16. Do they have any pets? What do they call their pets?

He doesn't have any pets, but he wants a dog. He also kinda maybe sorta wants a bird

17. How did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

He spent a lot of his time at the shooting range growing up, and it's always been a place of comfort to him

18. Their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

He thinks they're bad, obviously. But,,, he does think they are justified, and even necessary, in many cases

19. Are they quick to anger? What sets them off?

He doesn't really anger quickly. He's more laid back. And although he does get angry when someone hurts/threatens his friends, he also gets angry when many little things go wrong. Like, you know those days where everything seems to go wrong and you're tripping on things and dropping things? Yeah that gets him angy quickly

20. If applicable, can they drive? If they have their own, what colour is their vehicle? Is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

The legal driving age in Japan is 18, so he can't drive. But he may or may not fail many a driving test in the future... Also he has sworn that his future car WILL have racing stripes.

21. Their favourite place to be?

The shooting range

22. Do they sleep well at night?

Kyomu sleeps like a little baby, if that baby takes up the whole bed while sleeping and falls off the bed randomly in the night

23. How would you describe their voice? Can they sing?

His voice is on the louder side. I don't have a voice claim yet, but I may find one eventually. Also he can't sing. Granted, it's def not the worst out there, but it couldn't be considered "good"

24. Do they have any creative hobbies? (Art, writing, music, etc.)

He likes doing graffiti, tho he doesn't do it often. Other than that, he likes to listen to music

25. How good/bad is their hearing? What about their eyesight?

His hearing is a little better than what is considered normal, and his eyesight is good. Little fun fact about his eyesight: He sees yellow slightly better than any other colour. Yellow is very slightly more vibrant and bright to him

26. How do they move? Are they clumsy? Light on their feet? Do they use mobility aids?

Because of how his legs are built, he is slightly more light on his feet. His footsteps don't make a lot of noise. He can be a bit clumsy tho. He's not the most careful with his actions

27. If applicable, do they have a favorite sport? Do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

He likes basketball (probably cuz Kyomu has a height advantage over his friends). Watching sports is boring to him, and he prefers to play some friendly basketball with his friends

28. How do they show they care about someone? How do they express that they don't like someone?

Kyomu shows he likes someone by doing things with them and touching them (not like that. Stop it.). He'll ruffle his friends' hair or playfully poke them, and he's always down to give a massage if asked. Sometimes he'll even find his tail involuntarily grazing by the legs of those he loves.

29. Are they accosiated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

I don't think he's really "accosiated" with an element, but he'd probably be water

30. Do they smell like anything notable?

Nope. The only notable smell-related thing I can think of is that he sometimes uses women's deodorant because it smells better than men's "forest mud deodorant" or whatever it's named xD

31. Do they like receiving gifts? Giving gifts? What is their ideal gift?

He loves receiving gifts, but not giving so much, because he rever really knows what to get people. His ideal gift is any like, small, neat, unique, silly trinket. He loves collecting silly shit his friends give him

32. Do they have any hobbies that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

Not a hobby, but he drinks the pickle juice out of the jar when he finishes all the pickles.

33. If applicable, how would your other characters describe them? I mean specifically the people around them.

I don't have any other Mha ocs as of rn, but I can do this for his friends. Also I'm not gonna go into how each character would describe him, so ima do how the characters see him Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero see him as kinda like a cool older brother, and they live hanging out with him Kirishima and Jirou see him as a wee bit much, but they still love him and love the energy that he brings to class. Bakugou doesn't like him. Especially cuz Kyomu is taller than him and he doesn't like that Others like Iida, Midoriya, and Ochako don't care for his rebellious personality, but they will admit that he brings up the mood of just about whatever situation he finds himself in

(The thing above is being a bitch and is refusing to be coloured blue and now we must all suffer.)

34. How would your character describe themselves? It doesn't have to line up with who they really are.

Kyomu thinks of himself as more or less the "popular kid" that just about everyone likes. He would describe himself as brave, strong, and willing to stick up for what he thinks is right

35. Do they ever return home?

. . . . ?? He never "left" home?? I mean, he is living in the dorms rn, but idk what this question is getting at :/

Tagging @bluespider008 because I found these questions cuz you posted yours, but I didn't want this to take up a ton of space on my blog, so I just reblogged the original post 😅

Idk if you wanna see this, but you're seeing it now!

Also feel free to reblog with your oc :)

i wanted to make an oc ask game 😋 things i like to ask people abt their characters:

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

how crafty/resourceful are they?

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

favorite animal? why?

do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

what languages do they speak? how fluently?

are they any good with numbers?

how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

their favorite place to be?

do they sleep well at night?

how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

do they smell like anything notable?

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

do they ever return home?

[pharawee]

I'm trying to catch up with all the BL news I missed (which apparently was quite a lot) so I thought I'd make a quick post about it to put my thoughts in order:

First up is the trailer for The Renovation, a two-episode series about a writer, Pee, who turns his blossoming romance with holiday resort owner Arthit into the plot for his new novel (which goes over about exactly as well as you might expect). This drops on 14 & 21 December on One31 (so no official inter release yet).

Then there's a teaser for Rearrange, a high school band BL with a time travel twist and a what looks to be a GL side couple. And apparently the bad boy bassist and the nerdy drummer get together too which is exactly how things should be.

Next up, Boxer the Series (which is not the same as Boxer in Heart - another BL that was quietly cancelled in pre-production) have announced their cast with some familiar faces: Time Obnithi (The Whisperer, Bad Guy My Boss), Team Tatchanon (Twins), David Matthew Roberts (The Hidden Moon), Beboy Nanthakorn (who hopefully finally escaped from 9NAA) & Guide Piyawat (will be in The Hell Guard).

2025 might finally be the year of Muay Thai BL. 🤞

I have no idea if Hidden is a BL but it stars Tong Thanayut (as Kris) and it will release on youtube on 3 December. The plot certainly sounds intriguing (and messy):

On the night of Ten's birthday party, Ten, Kris, Pheem, and Prao find out about someone hiring Korn to secretly take pictures of Pheem. To figure out the truth, Kris and Pheem decide to hire Korn to take pictures at Ten's birthday party.

Director Golf Tanwarin's next series Love Like a Bike will apparently be exactly that: lots of couples and lots of bikes - and I most definitely appreciate it.

The series will star Masu Junyangdikul (who's kind of a big deal but it's his first BL role afaik) and Tee Thanapon (2 Moons, Triage), Win Thanat and Danny Luciano (The Loyal Pin), and Ta Nannakun (Kinnporsche, DFF) and Nanon Ruangdet (I love how everyone just copied the hashtags and I had to go on a whole google journey to find out their names).

The series is set around Nueng, a psychiatrist (a psychiatrist? in my BL??), and Sailom, a student suffering from a fear of being touched (played by Masu & Tee).

And then finally there's Eyes on You, a co-production between Hong Kong and Thailand (but filmed in Bangkok with a Thai cast) whose pilot will be unveiled on 27 November.

The plot summary on MDL sounds amazing tbh:

Two years ago, Just abandoned his law studies and severed ties with Rule to uncover the truth behind his parents' murder. Two years later, Rule, now a lawyer and still haunted by Just's disappearance, finally tracks him down to a seedy Gogo Bar, only to find him embroiled in a deadly feud with the Kung gang. But Just isn't alone. The bar is a haven for those consumed by vengeance: Salt, the security guard who always has a bloody smell, the runaway teen Tiger, and Ice, the ruthless madam running sexual business for the gang. Each carries the scent of violence, a simmering powder keg waiting to explode. Are you ready to descend into their dark, bloody, and tear-soaked path to retribution?

And that's it - except for the ThamePo trailer which everyone but me has already watched (I'll get to it right after posting this).

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #11: MACHINE LOVE

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was the title track, My Darling, My Companion, which means today is the final track on the album - a song about the truths that lay in hiding within artifice, and a computer falling in love - Machine Love!

Before we get started on this particularly long closeup - I'll be doing a follow-up post after this one, answering various miscellaneous questions I've gotten over the course of writing these! If you've got anything you wanna hear more from me about, album-related or otherwise, feel free to reply to this post or send me an ask! It may very well end up part of the bonus closeup :~)

---

Let's circle back to the very first track, Dyad.

In that track's closeup, I mentioned the main sonic touchstones of this release relative to my previous ones being guitars and vocal synths. The whole guitar rock thing I think I've gone into detail enough about, what with all the inspirations I've rattled off in other posts, but there likely is still a burning question for some long-time listeners.

Why vocal synths? Why am I not singing on like half of this album? I thought you were a singer, Jamie Paige, so what is this Hatsune Miku robot Vocaloid crap?

Truth be told, the Vocaloid scene and community has always been a massive source of inspiration for me. So much of my favorite music ever, music that inspires me or touches my heart or makes me go apeshit, has been sung by synthesized vocalists in a language I don't even speak. I grew up with it, and it's grown up with me - music just as intricate, mind-boggling, twisted, fun, and ridiculously creative is being put out every single day by vocal synth producers, and nowadays it's coming from English speaking musicians in droves!

Before this year began, I'd made at least one major contribution to the culture, but in spite of my genuine adoration of everything vocal synth related, I felt like I was just looking in from the other side. Caught between worlds, existing outside of any communities, simply gesturing vaguely towards what I wanted to do.

But I wanted more! I wanted to make the same kinds of things that stirred my heart and made me want to write! I wanted to sing with those same voices! I wanted it to be true - to be like you!

---

I won't lie to you and tell you Kasane Teto has always been my favorite vocal synth. That title used to go to GUMI, and in general, I wasn't particularly attached to any UTAU voicebanks as a younger vocal synth fan. (Nowadays, I genuinely open up OpenUTAU just as much as SynthV because I've fallen deeply in love with Adachi Rei, but that's a story for my next album.) Obviously, I knew of Teto, and found her presence in things like Triple Baka delightful, but for the most part, she was mostly something of an oddity, a wayward piece of vocal synth history that had her Fans like any other.

However, there was one Teto song I've been inexplicably attached to since the moment I first heard it - Song of the Eared Robot, by nwp8861. I was introduced via this particular cover, which I love, but I quickly gravitated to the original. Something about the warbly, childish nature of her very first voicebank, the ambitiously orchestrated and unabashedly digital instrumental, the lyrics referencing fundamental frequencies and Markov chains and compiling code all just spoke to me!

That song stuck with me, laying in a part of my heart that had been collecting dust, all the way to April of 2023.

Now, yes, Teto wasn't always my favorite, and I had other vocal synths I was attached to, but I don't live under a rock, and I still understood how monumental the announcement of Kasane Teto's Synth V voicebank was - to the point that I interrupted a call full of FFXIV-playing friends who knew barely anything about vocal synths and gave them an impromptu TED talk because I was so excited.

(An excerpt of a summary of that night's events, written the morning after. i was up my own ass a little bit but in my defense Kasane Teto had just been announced for Synthesizer V)

I was watching, in real time, a dream made manifest. It's literally one of the Bits with Teto! That she'd be a Vocaloid one day too! And here she was, on the fan favorite engine, sounding genuinely fucking incredible. Especially in hindsight, it's such a beautiful and perfect twist of fate for her.

I saw myself in her. A weird little outcast, explosively reborn and thrust straight into a community's open arms with love. I wanted it to be true - To be like that, too.

It didn't fully hit until later, hearing another cover of a song I'd almost forgotten.

Machine Love, my love letter to the entire world of unbridled creativity and artistry surrounding vocal synths filtered through one sentimental little song, was fully written by the start of May, maybe 4 days after I had gotten my hands on Teto SV and long before a certain compilation album was even a glint in my eye.

If you haven't heard DAEMON/DOLL yet, you really, really, really should go listen to it - yes, I mastered this album, many of my friends and collaborators are featured, and I have two entire songs on it, but I genuinely mean it when I say I believe it's some of the best fucking music that's come out this year in general. In many respects, it also feels like a companion (hah) to Constant Companions.

I had finished writing Machine Love by this point, but it was working on this album in its entirety - discovering artists like Anh Duy, Eggtan, and beat_shobon through it, and hearing everyone in top form making this twin-drilled chimera fucker sing her heart out - that not only made me confident in my decision to go down this artistic path, but that made me fall completely in love with Kasane Teto. And honestly, how could I not? She feels like a microcosm of everything that makes vocal synths so special, this community of creatives all leaving their marks and touchstones along the trail of a great big shared folk mythos. Yeah, maybe the folk hero we're all collectively mythologizing is an anime girl, but yknow maybe Odysseus could take some branding cues from hatsune miku idfk

Basically, even if he says he wants to kill me, I owe fucking everything to rice for inviting me to work on DAEMON/DOLL.

---

On that note, my vision for Machine Love's MV was pretty clear from the beginning.

the actual factual setup for the above shot, which was done entirely in-camera with my laptop, a tv, and two video files manually synced using VLC

The fundamental idea was always there - live-action shots of animation playing back on various screens, edited together to feel somewhat seamless. However, I really struggled with what exactly was going to be on said screens for a while; Big commissions were very far out of my budget, but I knew this song needed something grandiose.

Ultimately, what I arrived at was exactly the kind of scrappy, DIY bullshit it was always meant to be.

I asked my Twitter mutuals for help. And spent a couple months in Final Cut Pro and Apple Motion hell turning all the Teto art I got into a bunch of tiny little mini MVs, some of them parodying real vocal synth MVs, some of simply just evocative of vocal synth MVs, all of them painstakingly edited by yours truly and filmed with the help of some friends over the next couple months across two states and many more cities just to be painstakingly edited and synced up again by yours truly.

THE NEXT MV I DO WILL BE SMALLER IN SCOPE

---

And with that, I believe that's the album!

There's a reason it ends with Machine Love, and not with the title track. I do think that in some respects My Darling, My Companion would have made a better closer, but that song only really resolves one of the thematic strands running through the album.

There isn't really a definitive answer to the specific question "Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?", but it evokes a theme running through the entire album - wanting something, knowing that you want something, and simply needing to find the courage to do it or say it or be it. My Darling, My Companion is in many ways a declaration of intent, an acceptance of what needs to happen, but Machine Love, to me, is that action being done. The words being said!

And now, if I may give this a somewhat selfish tint - with the explosive response my works from this album have gotten, my contributions to things like DAEMON/DOLL and Flavor Foley, the collaborations I've done and that I still have in the pipeline, the friends I've made and the community I've found a spot for myself in, and the newfound voices that I can lay my heart bare with -

Well, shit, I know what I wanna hear, and I've gotten to hear it. I'm a vocaloP. It's real!

Thank you all so goddamn much for reading and listening. I'll see you back here either tomorrow or Monday for the bonus AMA post thing!! Make art and be gay, motherfuckers.

❤️💚

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Myxini

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Myxini, commonly called “hagfish”, “slime eels”, or even “snot snakes”, is the most simple class of vertebrates. They have one order, the Myxiniformes, and 3 families.

Hagfish have a cartilaginous skull but no vertebral column, though they do have rudimentary vertebrae. They also have tooth-like structures composed of keratin. Species range from 4 cm (1.6 in) to 127 cm (4 ft 2 in) long. They have elongated, worm-like bodies, and paddle-like tails. The skin is naked and loose, attached only along the center ridge of the back and at the slime glands. They have simple eyespots which only detect light, six or eight barbels around the mouth, and a single nostril. Their jaws move horizontally rather than vertically like other vertebrates, projecting two pairs of horny, comb-shaped tooth plates that grasp food and pull it into the mouth. They are marine predators and/or scavengers.

Hagfish are most well-known for their defense mechanism: releasing copious amounts of slime from specialized mucous glands in their skin. The slime reacts to seawater, expanding to 10,000 times its original size in 0.4 seconds. This slime is flexible, more durable and retentive than the slime excreted by any other animals. If a predator is not deterred by the sudden mouthful of slime, hagfish can also tie themselves into a knot to scrape more slime off of their bodies, wiggling free from their captor while its gills are clogged. Hagfish will also use this traveling knot behavior to clean themselves of any excess mucous.

Very little is known about hagfish reproduction. They are split into males and females, with females usually outnumbering males. Depending on species, females lay from 1 to 30 tough, yolky eggs. The eggs stick together with velcro-like tufts at either end. They do not have a larval stage and hatch as miniature adults.

The oldest-known stem group hagfish are known from the Late Carboniferous, with modern forms first being recorded from the mid-Cretaceous.

Propaganda under the cut:

Hagfish thread keratin, the protein that make up their slime filaments, is under investigation as an alternative to spider silk for use in applications such as body armor.

Hagfish slime threads can also be used as ultra-strong fiber for clothing.

Hagfish skin, used in a variety of clothing accessories, is usually referred to as "eel skin". It produces a particularly durable leather used for wallets and belts.

Remember this?

In 2017, a truck carrying 7,500 pounds of live hagfish got into a road accident on U.S. Highway 101. The aggravated hagfish then released enough slime to cover the road and nearby cars. Horror movie situation tbh.

But why were several tons of hagfish being shipped in a truck? Well, they were on their way to Korea for seafood purposes. Yeah. They are eaten in Korea and Japan.

Hagfish have a sluggish metabolism and can survive months between feedings; this is likely due to the scarcity of food on the seafloor. When food is present, such as a dead whale, they can go into a feeding frenzy.

Here I am listing all these ways that humans use them, but hagfish are also an important part of the deep sea ecosystem. Plus… I think they’re cute and I too wish I could produce a bunch of slime when I don’t want people to touch me. I mean, Howl in “Howl’s Moving Castle” does it and people love him, so…

[faghubby]

Bachlor/Bachelorette party

I walked out of the bathroom in just a towel to see Kelly laying on her stomach. Her ass on display her thong disappearing between her juicy cheeks. I knelt down and parted her legs. Pulling the thin piece of material to the side burying my tounge into her ass. Kelly moaned but was still scrolling thru her phone. After a few minutes she lifted her ass giving me access to her pussy as well. I slid my fingers into her wet slit. And continued to eat her ass. She stopped me and rolled over. I removed her panties completely. And licked and sucked her clit.

"You are so good to me" she moaned then grabbed my head as she succumbed to an orgasm. After she just tossed my hair and headed to a shower herself. I got dressed my erection settling on its own. Kelly fully dressed found me in the garage breaking down all the cardboard boxes for recycling.

"Paul, I have an important question to ask you" Kelly said. I stopped for a moment as she bent down on her knee.

"Will you marry me" she asked. I was stunned. I was suppose to ask her. And here now. Not very romantic. She held a small box. I took it and opened it. There was a diamond ring. It wasn't something I normally would wear.

"Kelly, shouldn't I ask you?" I said helping her up.

"No, I don't want that type of marriage" she said cupping her hand to my face.

"Yes" I replied and she placed the ring on my finger. She then took my hand and led me inside.

"We should talk about some things before you commit to me" Kelly said sitting me down.

"I don't want an equal marriage" she said. Holding my hand. I was confused. "I will be head of household" she stated.

"I don't understand" I said.

"I want a 1930 marriage but with me taking the husband role" Kelly explained. "You will stay at home, your job will be to take care of the house and me. Cook, clean, do the laundry and of course look pretty for me.

"Kelly, what would people think?" I said stunned

"That you are my little plaything" Kelly smiled. I frowned.

"Paul, I love you. But you have alot of short comings" Kelly told me. I knew she made alit more money then I did. But that couldn't be it. I looked at her quetionly. She grabbed both my hands ,looked into my eyes.

"You have no ambition, you are indecisive always waiting for me to tell what to do, you have little will power, and sorry but you are lacking in" she said looking down to indicate my crotch. I almost burst into tears.

"I love you and want always in my life" Kelly stated. "But this is how it would have to be"

"I understand" I said getting up. I went outside to think. I sat in the backyard and stared at the ring on my finger. I had always thought Kelly out of my league. But as I looked back. She had asked me out first. She was right I always just went along with what she wanted. Would much change, I wouldn't have to go to work. I already liked to cook. It had been over an hour when I returned and found Kelly.

"Yes I would honored to be your husband" I stated. She kissed me then pushed me to my knees she spread her legs. She wore no panties under her dress. Pulling me to pussy. I sucked and liked until she came again. I moved thinking we would have sex.

"Stop" Kelly said flatly. "I told you that you are lacking you have never satisfied me that way, have you?" I lowered my eyes. I knew she was telling the truth. "We will come up with a system in which you can.... release the presure" she told me. Seeing my face she softened.

"Since it is a special occasion" she opened my shorts and rubbed me thru my underwear.

"Please" I whined

"Want me to stroke it?" She teased. I shook my head excitedly.

"But my hand will get all sticky, I will make you cum if you clean my hand with your tounge" Kelly stated. I was stunned but she took out my dick and stroked me quickly. I came even quicker. She raised her hand to my lips.

"Good husbands always clean up their mess" she cooed, I hesitated but then stuck out my tounge. Kelly shoved her whole hand to my mouth. Bathing my tounge in my own cum.

"I would love it if everytime you cum you lick it all up" Kelly told me. Kelly had never even sucked my dick in the 3 years we had been dating.

Kelly had me quit my job the very next day. Told all our friends and family about the engagement. And for the next few months Kelly slowly explained what she expected of me. She would inspect my cleaning correcting what she didn't like. Picked out the menu I was to make. Even told me what clothes to wear. Gave me a exercise routine I was to look good at all times but especially in public. Kelly quickly controlled everything. My video games where gone. Our sex life became intense. With me orally pleasing her almost everyday. And her denying me or forcing me to eat my own cum.

One night when we had a few friends over. Someone asked. How I had proposed. Kelly quickly corrected them saying she had asked me. And then stated I would take her last name. Everyone laughed. But I knew Kelly was serious. We had not talked about it but I didn't want to embarras her in front of our friends. But then Kelly made me show everyone my engagement ring. The guys all looked at me strange. Bit the girls cooed around me.

After everyone had left I was doing the dishes when Kelly came up behind me.

"I want to fuck you" she told me in a husky voice. I got excited immediately. "Like a husband fucks his wife" she continued grabbing my ass. "I have a toy, you will let me won't you?" I was terrified she intended on fucking me didn't she. She unbuckled my pants and pulled down my boxers. Her finger covered in something cool rubbed against my asshole.

"Kelly" I wimpered. She just pushed two fingers in.

"Umm" is all the noise I made as she started to work them in and out. She reached around my dick still hard.

"I knew you like this" she giggled. She bent me over the sink more and finger fucked me for several minutes. Before she let me stand up and fix my pants.

A few days later she came to bed wearing a dildo. That the other end was inside her pussy. She was forceful as she positioned me on my back and lubed my ass. Then shoved her cock into my ass. She fucked me with a passion and speed I had never witnessed. Not stopping until she had cum twice. My ass was sore when she pulled the toy out. I laid in bed and cried.

"All girls cry aliille when they lose their virginity" Kelly told me holding me tight.

In the morning my ass still sore Kelly was already up getting ready for work.

"Since you are a woman now" She told me. As she handed me a pair of panties. "These are much more fitting your status" I spent the whole day crying wondering what had become of me. But as soon as Kelly came home she rushed to fuck me again. After this she became even more controlling. Budgeting how much money I could spend. Even limiting how much time I spent on the phone.

A few weeks later it was my bachelor party. Kelly insisted I wear a cock cage she had bought just for the occasion. It felt odd but I was allowed to go out with some friends and celebrate. My friends took me to a private club. As we walked in there was Kelly on stage naked getting split roasted by my step brother and one of my old co workers. I wanted to cry but held it together as I was led to a front row seat. Only to see my best friend strip down and work his big cock into Kelly's ass. In the course of the next two hours I watched Kelly get fucked by two dozen of our friends. Then my best friend Alex led me on stage.

"Clean her up" he told me pushing my face into her used swollen cunt. He held me there until I gave in and started to lick up all of there sperm. Most had left by then. Kelly didn't let me stop until I had cleaned her ass as well. Kelly then took me home where she fucked me until I came in the cage.

Now on our 10 year wedding anniversary I am still locked in chastity and have been fir the past 5 years. I also wear a custom cage that only is 3/4 of an inch long. Kelly works as I raise our 3 children. Brad, James and Christine all named after their fathers.

[rin-hanarin]

I realized that I've never addressed the elephant in Lucanis's room, also known as his romance plot, as a "Had been delusional about him for months before release" individual, so here's a surprisingly long rant/summary of how I felt about it in the process of playing the game.

As a Rook de Riva player, I obviously loved "Coffee with the Crows": we met Illario, joked about haha three Crows talking about nothing, talked business, Rook and Lucanis had a nice moment getting to know each other better outside of being teammates, Rook de Riva's background was acknowledged again, it really felt like a nice bonding moment, right?

Thennn a whole lot of nothing happens during any of the conversations between them, huh. Lucanis doesn't acknowledge flirting, which is fine, take your time bud, you'll get there; you keep pushing being supportive, he ignores you, you deal with his personal stuff for him one (1) time, and in my case he then proceeds to ignore Rook for 10+ hours of pure game time while busy talking to Neve at every opportunity until I finally get one (1) dialogue option to "express romantic interest in Lucanis".

And let me express my honest innermost feelings on the matter:

Not only did it feel like Lucanis genuinely couldn't care less about Rook even as a friend, it also felt like Rook was forcing Lucanis into something he simply wasn't interested in and that we were just getting in the way of his relationship with Neve. It was genuinely unpleasant to experience in a videogame that is supposed to be wish fulfillment and whatnot, and let me tell you, it was especially jarring because Dragon Age games also have a tendency of occasionally making you feel like the most special little protagonist known to Thedas, at the very least to your companions who you're supposedly building bonds with.

I loved hangout events in this game, too, I was so happy to just have these conversations about whatever with companions, have these little one-on-one moments with them that genuinely felt like walks with friends (especially with my bro my bestie my homie Davrin), and with Lucanis it started and ended with the coffee date. His fears and doubts about Rook later are never addressed, and lol lmao even, yeah, why would they be, when it feels like he barely acknowledges Rook exists outside of accompanying him to deal with his problems, none of which need Rook there? There's no reason outside of gameplay for him to ask Rook and not, say, his favorite Neve he talks about everything to? Somehow a lot of times when I hoped for any sort of dialogue with him, I was met with him talking about something very personal like his current feelings about Illario to Neve, like, isn't Rook supposed to know anything about anything, or are we just his convenient weird coworker he sometimes asks favours from?

We persevere though and keep supporting Lucanis, and can you take a wild guess what was waiting for me after like 40 hours of the game and after the infamous "kabedon assassin style" scene? Yeah bro, Lucanis just happened to talk to Neve. I wish I was making this shit up. My coping strategy was to come up with an entire jealousy subplot for my Rook because if I have to feel like I'm in the shittiest unrequited situationship of a triangular shape, I might as well do it on my own terms, right? It feels petty and stupid because as a player I like Neve, too, she's one of the coolest (no pun intended) characters, but as Rook, and Rook de Riva making an obvious choice especially? Yeah, let's just say this relationship fucking sucked for a while.

So after many trials and tribulations we're finally back with Inner Demons, and yeah, Neve is there again, I couldn't even give a shit at that point, and I'll be real here, the locking in didn't feel like we went through angsty slowburn or that we earned Lucanis' trust. Remember DA2's Fenris situation? Because I suddenly did, and surely one of many, many Neve banters I had to eavesdrop on could be sacrificed to have one or two banters that acknowledged Lucanis's anything towards Rook at all?

Also, Spite? Spite seemingly likes Rook more than Lucanis does. In between "It's so over" and "We're so back" in the Fade Ossuary it feels like somehow Rook gets more bonding time with Spite, which is kinda crazy to me.

We are so back though! As I mentioned, I was a "delusional before release" individual, I am perfectly capable of filling the gaps and extrapolating meaning from implications, and here's where one of the most infuriating things is: the rest of the romance is good, too! I can write whatever the hell I want between the beginning and the end of it, but like, why should I? How should I go about it, when in my game I was under the impression that Lucanis would rather just spend time with anyone other than Rook for seemingly no reason in particular, because there's simply nothing there? The fact that none of my pre-release ideas or comics even necessarily contradict anything about Lucanis or his romance as it is now is more telling than impressive honestly.

So where do I land with this exactly? Well, mostly in the glorious Fanon Land where I've been making my silly comics the whole time anyway. The highs are high, I love what they did at the end and how stable, protective and devoted Lucanis is, but the lows made me salty as shit and I wish I didn't have to feel that way to begin with. I wish I didn't have to connect the dots and joke about how badly Lucanis sucks at this and "Let's go girl give us nothing." And yes, I know about writer lay-offs, rewrites, restarts, etc etc, and it's a miracle that this game came out at all, but it hardly matters when you're just trying to do the good old datesim part of a Dragon Age game and end up feeling like a third wheel while trying very hard to get anything out of the character you're interested in.

[ruinedsoulsrp]

A light chuckle left his lips as she commented about the ship being smart. He had the thought that maybe the ship was the exact opposite. Maybe it was stupid and naive for wanting to sail back into the same waters, but he didn't dare voice as much, not wanting to ruin the decent moment they had been able to create. Instead, Pat nodded in agreement at her sentiment.

His lips quirked upward again when she mentioned how she'd never been good at small talk. Pat could still remember one of the first times before she'd actually agreed to go out with him, them skipping class, sitting in his car and she'd turned to him with such confidence and questioned "What are you about Pat O'Morhan?" It had been a slice straight through small talk and he'd loved that about her, even then.

He watched as she took a second drink from her glass, and he followed suit, finishing his and pushing it away slightly, to give his hands something to focus on, though he was grateful when she spoke again, and he couldn't stop the slight chuckle that fell from his lips at the clear surprise in her tone. "Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna ask." he admitted with a sheepish grin. Sure, he'd been an outright criminal, hell, still was, put in very dangerous situations over and over again, but when it came to feelings, and vulnerability, Laurel was the brave one of the two of them.

"It does, doesn't it. Probably because nothing and everything has changed." he answered, because that's exactly how it felt to him all at the same time. the joy in the one questioned word was infectious and a smile spread over his features instantly. Though, he didn't have the opportunity to answer as she was up and closing any distance between them, her hands finding his cheeks and her lips meeting his. Pat pushed his chair back slightly, his hands finding her cheeks as he returned her kiss.

Had she not pulled away, he would've happily pulled her right onto his lap, though even as she started speaking, she didn't move away from him, and his smile grew as the speed of her words increased. "You're good." He nodded as she spoke, and after she trailed off, he took her hand in his and did pull her into a sitting position on his lap, his free arm moving to wrap around her waist, as his other hand released hers in favor of moving to cup her cheek. "We can take it slow if you'd like." he agreed, knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea to jump right back into whatever they'd had, especially when he was holding what might be considered more secrets now than he had been then. Yet, the pull and attraction and love he felt for Laurel meant he was aching to do exactly that.

A light chuckle left the man as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I know I've been out of touch a while, but I think the kids still call it dating." he teased, his smirk returning as he looked up at her. "I uh, I'd be okay with calling it that if you wanted." he offered. That didn't exactly mean they were boyfriend and girlfriend, right? Still sans titles, but at least it was something to ensure they both knew that the other was right there and invested, and god damn it if he wasn't whole heartedly invested.

Seeing his grin amused her immensely. Laurel just felt relief all around, especially when each moment they had spent together felt fleeting, feeling like she could lose it from one moment to the next. Still, even if it turned out to be short-lived, she was willing to enjoy it to the fullest. Each smile, laughter, the way his eyes seemed to pierced her soul - greedily, she craved it all.

She caught that glimpse of surprise in his features, and for a second, she feared she had been too honest. But, the satisfaction that followed was much more familiar to her and Laurel couldn't help the smile full of relief that adorned her lips. "Back at the dock, what a smart ship," she mused out loud, wondering if she could take that to mean that he also had not moved on. Even after all this time. It was a second of mirrored satisfaction, followed by that immense guilt that wouldn't leave her alone. All these years, after ruining his life, and he still hadn't moved on? She couldn't help the pang of guilt that struck her. "I would be pleasantly surprised to find our ship back somewhere on that dock."

Even with the semi-hopeful conversation happening, her situation wasn't lost on her. He may have turned a new leaf and his life may look very different than it had all those years ago, but Laurel knew he was still close to his family, thinking back to his cousin stopping by his place and that dinner he went to with his dad. And on her side? Well, her mom still held some influence in her life - something she'd been unable to kick. Laurel's need for her mother's approval still dictated her life to this day. "Well, I was never really good with small talk," she teased, following his lead and taking another drink from her glass. Though, it was much larger than just a sip. Liquid courage? Maybe. Setting the glass back down on the table, Laurel willed herself to look back up at him, meeting those blue eyes she loved so much. Looking at him once more, she reiterated to herself that, yes she was willing to try again. Go all in for him. If her gaze was not communicating that, then one more sip of her drink, and Laurel was ready to say it out loud. Unable to continue dancing around what she wanted.

"You're glad?" she breathed out in surprise. Her realistic tendencies held her down, though a sliver of hope threatened to take over. "New territory is right, yet it feels very familiar. I just can't pinpoint why." Laurel hung to every word, his smile mesmerizing her like it had so many years ago. It felt like a turning point for them - an adult conversation between two people who hadn't seen each other since their teenage years. It was definitely something. Inevitably, a smile broke out on her lips. Pure joy in her features, and that hope from earlier burst through her chest. "Really?" she said breathlessly, unable to contain herself as she stood up from her chair and closed the distance between them, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss.

A laugh pulled from her lips, shaking her head. "Okay sorry, I got carried away. Yes, me too. Well, I had already said that. But, honestly...no pressure. I'm not expecting us to just immediately go back to what we had. More so, I just wanted you to know that I'm still here and I still...feel things for you. So yes, expecting things from each other, I can work with that. We can just take it slow, right?" She felt like she was reaching rambling territory, her nerves were in full display and leaning on being chill and nonchalant to not completely freak him out. "Don't worry, I won't request any girlfriend titles or anything of the sort."

[novankenn]

Prelude to... A movie on Saturday

A snippet from "a Mafia" & "From Assassin to Sales Clerk" AUs

Pyrrha was once again in the mall being dragged along by Jaune. The man she was supposed to kill, but because of her traitor of a heart and turncoat of a brain, she couldn't pull the literal trigger on the job. Of course the dense, oblivious, sweet, cutie. Pyrrha shook her head to try and replace those words... only for sweet to become loveable, and cute to morph into adorable.

So because of her inability to override her heart and brain, her mark who somehow had spotted her trailing him, decided she must be his... bodyguard. Pyrrha didn't know what was worse. Not being able to finish the job herself, or having to PREVENT other hitters from completing the contract! In was insane, and giving her a migraine.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha yelped when he grabbed her by the wrist, and started to drag her towards his chosen destination. "Hold on!"

"Come on Pyr!" Jaune spoke through his adorable goofy smile. Hearing her nickname, and seeing that smile, made Pyrrha "Goddess of Death" Nikos, blush like a school girl.

The blush, and associated happy feelings instantly died upon stepping over the threshold to Pumpkin Pete's Novelty Store. Gods Pyrrha hated this store. It was tacky, gaudy, and over priced! Like seriously $200 lien for a hoodie just because it had a trademarked rabbit head logo on it? But Jaune loved the store, and as his... bodyguard she was required to stick by his side, even in this hell.

But that wasn't the full reason she hated stepping inside this neon coloured purgatory. No that other reason was currently staffing the till of the store.

"Hi, Jaune! Pyrrha!" Blake called from her spot next to the till, in an overly cheery tone.

"Blake! Did they come in?" Jaune asked, like a over energetic puppy.

"Yep. The whole set is on the shelf, next to the Cereal Display." Blake helpfully informed Jaune, who released his grip on Pyrrha and rushed off towards the indicated destination.

"Blake." Pyrrha greeted the cashier coldly. Now why would Pyrrha be such a... bitch to some one working in customer service? Well because Blake Belladonna was also an assassin. One who had TRIED to claim the payout on Jaune.

"Pyrrha, you can relax. I signed off as not interested on Jaune's contract. You and him are safe in here." Blake informed her rival hitwoman for like the twentieth time.

"I still don't trust you."

"And that is an issue." Blake retorted. "How can you be in a relationship when you can't even trust someone in the same profession... wait that is a terrible example. I can perfectly see why you would have trust issue there."

"Whoa! Limited Edition Chainsaw-hand Pete!" Jaune shouted in excitement from his side of the store.

"How many of those freakish Sche-Pop things are there?" Pyrrha asked with a defeated sigh.

"Two dozen." Blake responded. "Anyway, you need to be more trustful. How are you going to move forward with Jaune if you can't trust and be honest?"

"Honest and truthful?" Pyrrha snorted, "Tell me Blake, in your infinate wisdom how this would go. Ahem. Jaune I'm actually a hitwoman who is supposed to kill you for a Schnee amount of money."

"Yeah, maybe not that honest."

"Anyway, have you been that honest with... Yang?"

"How do you know about her?" Blake hissed, her hand reaching for the kukri sheathed under the counter top.

"Jaune and her are friends through her sister Ruby, and you should understand... blonds talk. Especially to other blonds."

"Shit!"

"So have you taken your own advice?" Pyrrha asked with a smirk. "Opened that Pandora's box of truth, to you blond?"

"I'm trying!" Blake hissed, "It's hard, you know. I even bought out her contract four years ago, so no one could pick it up!"

"Whoa. That is commitment. When's the wedding?"

"Hush you!" Blake answered. "You're no better, you know that! Blushing and squirming like a school girl every time Jaune even looks at you!"

"How else should I react?" Pyrrha asked. "His contract has a no-buy-out clause! I'm sleeping in his bedroom for Gods sake!"

"Same or separate beds?" Blake asked instantly serious.

"Separate."

"Shit!"

"Blake, where you thinking lewd thoughts about me and my sweet Jaune-Jaune?"

"No, and do you hear yourself?"

"EEP!" Pyrrha squeaked as she finally recalled what she just said, and said out loud. "Argh! I'm a mess! What am I supposed to do! This should never have happened!"

"Preach it sister." Blake replied. "Yang wants to take me to the movies, Saturday, and I bet you an hour's wages she'll invite Jaune who will bring you along."

"A movie!" Pyrrha's heart was slamming against her ribs. "What the hell do we do at a movie?"

"Hold hands? Make out?"

"We are killers Blake! We are ill equipped to do such normal things!" Pyrrha growled in desperation while unintentionally grabbing Blake by her hands. "What are we supposed to do? how am I supposed to act normal?"

"Don't ask me!" Blake replied. " The only normal thing I know is how to work a retail job!"

"Right." Pyrrha released Blake's hands. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but WHY are you still working here?"

"Deery." Blake replied without hesitation. "She's scary."

"Oh, yeah... I remember her." Pyrrha visibly shivered.

"Hey!"

"No."

"Rude. You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were going to suggest I speak to one of Jaune's sisters." Pyrrha scowled. "Not happening. Ever."

"So then we go to this movie, flub it, Get outed as murderous psychos, and lose the loves of our lives?" Blake asked.

"Fine. I'll ask Saphron." Pyrrha capitulated. "Happy?"

"You were right Blake!" Jaune commented in his overly cheerfully friendly voice. "They had ALL twenty-four PLUS the four special editions!" Jaune pushed a shopping cart to the counter. A cart filled with boxed figures.

"Jaune. Don't you have like all of these at home already?" Pyrrha asked, leaning back from the freaky things.

"No. That was series one. These are series two. So they're different."

"How?"

"Poses. Accessories." Jaune cheerfully replied.

"I'll just ring these all though, for you." Blake commented.

"Oh, Blake?"

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Yang said something about movies Saturday." Pyrrha froze. "So I thought I'd check with you to see if you'd mind it Pyr and I tagged along?"

"Don't mind at all. The more the merrier." Blake replied, in her practiced cheery customer service voice.

[regency-monster-love]

Part 7 of Colin and Susannah | Master post

Male werewolf x female human | Regency era | NSFW: hand jobs, semi-public sex (not caught), references to knotting, references to biting (vague)

Colin and Susannah's wedding date was fast approaching, and there was an important matter for them to discuss before then. Colin had gotten his pack's assistance once again to distract her parents and let him steal her away for a few minutes of privacy to talk. They were sitting together in the same study where he had proposed, the door closed.

He picked up his fiancé's hand. “You have heard me say that we are mates. Do you know what that entails?” he asked carefully.

She gazed into his golden eyes. They always seemed to have a faint glow to them, but at times their light burned with more intensity, as they were now. It always set off a fluttery sort of warmth within her when his eyes looked like this. She swallowed. “Well. I know it's a sort of bond that some werewolves share with their spouses, but not all.”

He nodded. “That's right. The bond can only form if both parties feel love for each other.”

She smiled softly. “Like you and I.”

His eyes warmed with his own smile. “Yes, butterfly.” 

“Even if only one of us is a werewolf?”

“Even so.” He paused. “But love is not enough. There is something else that must occur to fully bond a pair as mates.”

Her brows lifted, curious and waiting for him to tell her. He shifted slightly closer to her on the settee.

“The soul connection of a mated pair must be expressed as a bodily connection as well,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on her face for her reaction. “They—we—would need to lie together as a husband and wife do, and we would need to bite each other. And I would be in my wolf form while this occurs.”

Her eyebrows had climbed even higher. “Oh. I see,” was all she said.

He smelt no fear coming off her, but could not read her expression. “Would you…permit that?”

“I think I…would like it,” she admitted.

The werewolf felt a rush of relief—and then the scent of her desire hit him. She truly would like it—the thought alone was arousing her! The knowledge of that aroused him as well, and he pressed himself even closer to her. “Do you know how we will lie together? What I will do to you?”

His voice had become hoarser, his gaze more piercing, and both somehow contributed to the increasing agitation she felt in the pit of her belly. “I know the generalities, at least for humans,” she said, and was surprised to hear that her own voice sounded more hoarse as well.

“It is not very different for werewolves.” He pressed his hand onto a bulge at the front of his trousers. “This part of me will fit into your body—”

“Here.” She finished his sentence and pressed her hand between her own legs, grown bold by his words, his voice, and that alluring fire in his eyes. A jolt of pleasure met the touch of her hand, and she wriggled her hips in an unconscious effort to induce even more.

He groaned watching her. “Yes, in your quim. I'll stick my cock in your quim.”

His vulgar bluntness increased her desire further. “Oh Colin,” she whimpered.

He threw his arms around her shoulders to pull her close. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and he dropped his head to angle his mouth against hers and kiss his mate for the first time in his life.

The sensation of the kiss enlivened him. It was like the feeling of transforming on a full moon, a feeling of release and rightness, of becoming something closer to whole. His instincts told him what else to do to truly become whole—mount her, knot her, bite her—but for now, this was already so much more alive than he'd ever felt before.

Susannah was perhaps even more overwhelmed than he, for just a minute ago she had never kissed anyone, and now she was feeling her mate's tongue sweeping against hers, his large hands running over her back and arms, his thigh pressed against her's, all of it unfamiliar and stunning.

Colin's kisses drifted lower, and when he reached the spot where her neck met her shoulder, her breath caught at the burst of pleasure his lips set off there. “This is where I will bite you,” Colin rasped against her skin, mouthing at the sensitive spot with just the faintest scrape of his wicked teeth. She gasped and twisted in his arms, mindlessly torn between wanting to get away from the overwhelming pleasure and wanting more of it.

“I can smell your desire. You're wet,” Colin said in a dark tone that seemed to rumble down her spine to settle between her hips with a pulsing heat that obliterated any mortification she might have felt from his words. Perhaps the mating bond was making her mad as well, but if it was, she did not care.

“Yes. Please,” she pleaded, knowing she needed something more or she should burst.

“You need never beg for me, darling mate,” he purred, and tugged up one side of her skirts, before his hand disappeared underneath.

He found where she was wet, swirling his fingertips through it, making her moan at the riotous sensations it set off in her body. One of his fingers dipped, feeling as though it was starting to sink into her, but he went no further, merely held it at her entrance while his thumb flicked against the sensitive bud at the top of her slit, making her throb with want.

“There is one more thing I will do to seal our mating bond,” he murmured in her ear. “I will spill my seed in your cunt, then knot you to lock it inside.”

“Knot me?” she hiccuped, nearly at her peak already from his decadent caresses and lewd language.

“A bulge at the base of my cock. Can I show you?”

“Yes, show me,” she pleaded.

He groaned in approval at her eagerness and quickly freed his cock from his trousers, watching Susannah's eyes widen as she stared down at it, and breathing in the scent of her arousal that had surged. But a hint of fear prickled at the edges of it now as well. “It's too big, isn’t it?” she asked.

“No, butterfly,” he cooed, caressing her folds soothingly. “You're my mate, built to take me.” No need to tell her that it would be even larger when he was a wolf. His hand cupped his knot, which also wasn’t at its full size; that wouldn’t happen until it was inside her. “You'll be able to take my knot as well. I'll fill you perfectly, mate.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Please.” Her touch was tentative at first, but he showed her how to pump him, restoring her eager lust, and soon both of them were feverishly stroking each other while they kissed deeply once more. Colin could scarcely believe how good Susannah's warm, wet cunt felt on his fingers, and imagined how much better it was going to be to sink his cock into that same slick heat. It made his knot throb and swell just to think of it.

“We will be so close when we are knotted, Susannah,” he panted. “It will tie our bodies together for some time. Can you imagine that? Having me joined with you, unable to separate, fully being one?”

“Yes,” she moaned, squeezing his cock tighter in her fist, “I want that!”

“Soon, butterfly. Soon I'll mate you the way you need.” He mouthed at that spot on her neck again, relishing the way it made her shudder and gush onto his hand. “You need me, don't you, little mate? Need this cock inside you, need my teeth in your flesh?”

“Oh God, Colin, yes, yes!” she sobbed. “Need your cock and your bite!”

“Oh fuck,” he growled. It took all his restraint not to pull her onto his cock this instant. It was aching to be buried in her, red and angry and throbbing with primal need.

He plunged a finger inside her instead, making her cry out, before she bit down on her lip and darted her widened eyes toward the door. But even though there was an undercurrent of fear in her scent at that moment, the spice of her arousal had thickened to an even greater degree.

Colin pumped his finger in and out of her cunt and gave her a wicked smile. “It excites you, the possibility that we will be caught doing this.”

She only whimpered in response. What was wrong with her, that something so perverse and dangerous should excite her? But she could not deny that it did, most ardently. That thrill, combined with the movements of Colin's clever fingers on and in her, were rushing her towards a shining precipice of ecstasy, and then suddenly, something burst inside her and she soared over that peak, clutching tight to Colin as she fell through the air as though weightless. She had no idea if she made any sound, because Colin’s mouth was on hers again, his tongue undulating like the waves in her cunt.

Her climax was intoxicating to him. He wanted to drink up her pleasure, swallow every wanton cry she made into his own throat to relish, let her scent seep in and saturate every cell of his body so it would become a part of him. Her hands still moved against him, one rubbing his knot while the other tugged on his shaft, the rhythm faltering and jerky now, but the touch still heated, and before he could warn her, his own climax ripped into him. He moaned into her mouth as his seed barreled up his cock and shot from its tip, covering his human’s sweet little hands in its creamy whiteness.

They slumped against each other, panting for a few moments while they recovered. Colin huffed out a short laughing sort of breath. “This was not my intention in getting you alone, I assure you,” he told her.

She smiled. “I would not blame you if it was, for it was most agreeable.” Then she flushed, suddenly conscious of how improper this all had been, especially for her. “You do not think less of me when I say I enjoyed it, do you?”

“Of course not! I am delighted to know that my mate enjoys my touch.” He stroked his wet fingers over the inside of her thigh, making her shiver, then withdrew his hand. “I am already desirous of giving you even more of it. But we have been away too long as it is. Your parents will notice you are gone.”

They quickly cleaned up as best they could, then Colin sent Susannah out ahead of them, to not arouse suspicion by returning together. He did not tell her that it was only her parents’ suspicion they could avoid, because every werewolf out there would smell what they had done together. He did not want to embarrass her with that knowledge.

When he returned to the drawing room by himself, a couple minutes after Susannah, she was speaking to her parents as if nothing had happened, and did not even look at him. But his packmates shot him secret smirks thanks to the story that his scent, and hers, clearly told them. He didn't mind it. He was proud to have Susannah's scent clinging to him, and his on her, telling everyone that she was claimed, that she was his mate.

Or, at least, very nearly so. Mount her, knot her, bite her. Then she would fully be his. At last.

~ 🐺🎩 ~

End of part 7 of Colin and Susannah

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing.

[olasketches]

so because we have only three chapters left, I’ve decided that I’m going to wait for the official release instead of going through the leaks as I’ve been doing for… almost the past 2 years. I don’t want the leaks and the fandom discourse to ruin my last experience with jjk as a still ongoing manga… plus I thought it would be more fun and enjoyable this way... more special ig (I’m being so sappy ik) wish me luck guys!!

[citrus-moonlight]

Tara, I love this chapter so much!!! The way that you manage to create such a tangible desire between the two of them even though she doesn't even know what he looks like (and as far as she knows hasn't met him yet 😏) is incredible.

Reader being able to have a different type of release first when she blocks her mother's number was so satisfying. I love how she's finally able to let go of that part of her as she realizes that it isn't worth it anymore, that she is worth so much more than someone who didn't and doesn't want her, now that she knows what it's like to have someone who does.

"You smile at your phone. Your eyes are watery, your cheeks are warm, and your lips are lopsided and trembling. You can blame all of that on the wine, but the way your heart is battering against your ribcage? You've got it bad for some words on a screen, a hand, a pair of shoes, and a ghost."

I love how gone she already is, how everything is building so intensely and she doesn't even know what he looks like yet. And then when she finally lets herself go to the thought of him, and the realization that the relief barely lasts because now the floodgates are open and she only wants more?? LORD. The tension is so good, and I love how delicious it feels as he metes out little details in pictures and words and how they're all so precious to her as she tries to form a picture in her head to focus her desire on (and I am forever screaming at "I'm not going to describe my cock to you" 😂).

"Well then. I'll keep that in mind. I really liked the maroon silk one, personally. I bet it would feel nice on my skin." >I agree, it would feel very nice on your skin.

Good lord, that man is so smooth. And I am also enjoying that she picks out a maroon one (because now I am thinking about that silk robe, and how they would go so well together 😏).

You're done hesitating. Of course you are. But when you take that step, it's going to be on your terms. You know, instinctively, that you should never give up too much power to him. Both because it would be so easy to lose yourself in him—which you don't want to do now that you've finally found yourself—and because he would delight in never giving it back.

The duality that of him that you show is so good, how he swings from >I could have you however I wanted, couldn't I? to the vulnerability admitting that he wants her to touch his face, the "but I think I will if you do it." I love that contrast between the predatory part of him, the part that's truly so dangerous (and yet so intriguing), but then you continue to show how needy he is underneath that, something he's trying to hide under his own mask (he's so pathetic and touch starved, I need him).

And then of course the smut is always so incredible, the way he talks I am just 🥵🫠😵‍💫. The >Only me. Only I can see you like this and >That's right. I'm going to make you sob my name. He's so possessive and demanding I'm going to lose it.

>It's all I've been able to think about for months. It's going to feel so fucking good to finally get to fuck you and come with my cock buried inside of you. And I'm going to do it over and over again until I physically can't anymore. >Do you understand? I NEED you. Fuck!

Ok, knowing it's speech to text makes this is so fucking hot, imagining how desperate his voice must sound, and then THE FUCKING PICTURE?? EXCUSE ME???? And her almost tipping and that feeling of freefall adding to everything when she comes, oh my god that was such a perfect parallel to this whole experience with him, LIKE JESUS CHRIST TARA THIS IS SO GOOD.

Seriously, I am always beside myself when I come back to this chapter, your dialogue and all of the interactions are always so dynamic even when their just talking and exploring. I am so excited to see where things are going to develop and evolve once she finally meets him! (truly I am gnawing on the walls, your slow burns are always so amazing, it drives me crazy and I love every minute of it!) 💖

Seriously, I am always beside myself when I come back to this chapter, your dialogue and all of the interactions are always so dynamic even when they're just talking and exploring. I am so excited to see where things are going to develop and evolve once she finally meets him! Truly I am gnawing on the walls, the way you write and and slowly ratchet up the need and tension is always so mind meltingly good, that slow burn drives me crazy and I love every minute of it! 💖💖💖

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 4/? (12.8k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Summary: Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content.

At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

Warnings: Explicit rating, smut, stalking, spying, blackmail, manipulation, dubcon, dubious consent, Dom/sub, sadism, masochism, unprotected sex, oral sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, choking, dirty talk, praise, humiliation, possessive love, yandere, minor description of gore, minor description of violence, murder, discussion of murder, shame involving sex work, light shaming of sex work, emotionally abusive mother, troubled mother/daughter relationship, sexual harassment, workplace sexual harassment, alcohol consumption, religious trauma

A/N: To all of my fellow readers with mother issues, this chapter is for us 💖 Because those troubled mother/daughter relationship and emotionally abusive mother tags hit real hard this chapter (I'm not projecting, you're projecting). But I eventually make it up to you, I promise. (As a reminder from my notes last chapter, David uses voice to text when they're chatting 😏) Also, I changed the formatting for texting conversations because eventually there will be texting while there is external dialogue, and I don't want it to be confusing. So his texts continue to be in italics and Reader's are in italics AND quotes.

Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from Tanaka Mhishi's poem in Literary Sexts II. Text divider 1 is from Francisco de Goya's Witches Flight. Text divider 2 is from Caravaggio's Sacrifice of Isaac.

Chapter 4 - I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat.

That night, after calming down from your conversation with David, you finally do the thing that you've been putting off for far too long. The thing that causes panic to swell in your chest and your mind to recoil whenever you start to examine it. 

You think about your mother.

So you pour a glass of wine, set your phone off to the side, flop down on your couch, and you begin to metaphorically unpack.

You've always prided yourself on being an intelligent woman. You know, logically, this will help you feel better in the long run. It will help you heal. Help you grow. And right now that's what you yearn for—to know and embrace yourself as you truly are, not who you pretended to be for so long that you almost believed it. Not your mask.

The mask that you built because of her, you think. One crafted out of fear and shame. Other people may have honed it, but she laid the foundation.

You also know she's the reason you have so many hang ups and difficulties forming connections with people. You know it's part of the reason you've been miserable for so long. You know this needs to be done. You know that.

It still…well, it hurts.

You learned at a young age to be fiercely independent because you couldn't count on her for support. Or encouragement. Or warmth. Her answer was always the same: "Pray or go to confession." As if all of your problems were your own fault or stemmed from a lack of faith.

And the message was clear—The only love you'll ever get is God's love. Maybe he can fix you.

You wanted it, though. God, did you want her to gather you in her arms and tell you, just once, that she was proud of you. That she truly loved you. You did everything you could to please and placate and impress her, hoping if you were good enough or hid well enough, you might finally get all of that. You got good grades, you were well-behaved, and you went to church, even when you stopped believing. You gave up your dream of being an artist for her, for christsake!

Sure, a part of that was because she tainted the piece of yourself you turned to for expression and escape. But since you're already unpacking every horrible bit of this, you can finally admit to yourself that you also gave it up for her.

For nothing.

Because it didn't work. Getting a business degree and an office job didn't make her proud, it only created a new direction in which you were lacking. You lost a part of yourself and got nothing in return. The thought of it makes you so angry that hot tears prick your eyes.

You get up to pour yourself another glass of wine.

You don't even know why your mother treated you the way she did. You think that if you could at least know why it might be easier to stomach. Then you wouldn't feel so confused and lost. Sure, it would hurt, but it would be something solid you could sit with.

Perhaps she saw that you weren't what she would call normal, and she hated it—wanted to spurn you into changing and hiding. It's ironic, then, that her disgust just fueled that darkness within you. Gave it the sustenance it needed to grow, devoid of warmth, in the corners of your heart and mind.

Maybe all of this would have turned out differently, if only she had loved you.

Or perhaps that's just who she is, and, even if you had been everything she wanted, it still wouldn't have made a difference. Still wouldn't have been good enough. You got it from somewhere, after all.

You'll never know either way.

What you do know is this: If you couldn't count on your own mother, then why would you ever think you could count on or trust anyone else?

Why wouldn't they brush you aside eventually as well? Why bother getting close to anyone—assuming they didn't bore you in the first place? Why wouldn't they see the real you and look just as disgusted as the one person that should have loved you unconditionally? 

And people continuously proved you right by walking away when you didn't thaw under their attention or they caught a glimpse of that darkness—until David. Until he looked and saw the real you, and it only made him want you more.

Well, you're thawing now.

No.

You're melting.

You wonder what your mother would think of you if she could see you at this very moment. On one hand, you've laid waste to the life you built for yourself for a man that stalked you. She'd have a few choice words for you there, such as disappointment and embarrassment. "What will people think?" But on the other hand, you finally have someone and he's rich, which would go a long way towards forgiveness. Because, even though she prides herself on her piety, pride is her greatest sin. She would tell everyone she knew, as if it were her achievement, while conveniently leaving out the rest of it. Like the fact that you're happy.

As you're pouring your third glass of wine, you debate calling her. It's not too late. She should still be awake. You can finally ask her why. Why nothing you've done has ever been good enough. Why she cared about God and what everyone else thought more than her own daughter. 

You can ask her why you can't remember the last time she hugged you or told you she loved you. Because a daughter should be able to recall that, shouldn't she? Oh, she said it plenty in front of other people. She gave you scraps with no meaning behind the words or warmth in her eyes. But in private, where no one else was watching her performance? You got nothing. You starved for affection. Maybe you can ask her why.

But you know that's the alcohol talking.

And it wouldn't do any good anyway. You won't get the answers you seek or the apology you need. You won't get promises to do better. You won't get a mom.

This was all for nothing.

Instead, you pick up your phone and block her number.

No contact. A clean cut. Never again.

You expect that to hurt, too, but for the first time since you started this, you feel lighter. Because you're finally done looking for hope where there isn't any to be found. You're also finally acknowledging that you deserved everything she never gave you. And that isn't a failing on your part—it never was. It's her failure. Another one of her sins. Now it's her loss.

Maybe you should have done that years ago, but you're doing it now. You're moving forward and letting go, and that's what's important.

While your phone is in your hand, you check your messages to confirm that David hasn't sent you anything. You aren't surprised. You hadn't expected him to. But that doesn't mean you didn't want him to.

You want it all the time now, you realize. It's only been a couple of hours since you ended the call, but you'd still love nothing more than to get back on and talk to him again until the early hours of the morning.

You may have been able to stop yourself from angrily calling your mother, but the combination of wine and your already weakening grasp on your self-control when it comes to him means you're typing before you even realize it.

"Thank you. For everything. I can never say it enough, David, because you've done more for me than any person in my life EVER has. I mean it. Truly. I'm so grateful."

"Also, for the record, I'm certain I could pick you out of a crowd now."

You're welcome. Always.

And I'll keep that in mind the next time I need coffee.

You smile at your phone. Your eyes are watery, your cheeks are warm, and your lips are lopsided and trembling. You can blame all of that on the wine, but the way your heart is battering against your ribcage?

You've got it bad for some words on a screen, a hand, a pair of shoes, and a ghost.

The next morning, you sleep in until a gloriously late hour. Just because you can. And because last night was emotionally exhausting—you're certain the wine didn't help either. Even when you're no longer tired, you lie in bed, wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, and bask in the knowledge that you never have to go back to that office ever again.

Or speak to your mother, you think with a contented sigh.

You feel untethered, but not adrift. No, you know exactly which direction you're headed, and now you have the freedom to do so.

Eventually you resume your search for a new bed on your phone as well because you start to think about how blissful this lounging would have been on a comfortable mattress. With silk sheets. And a new nightgown... Oh, now there's an interesting thought. You could get something new and sexy. Maybe something with lace. Or more silk. Or, even better, something sheer that barely covers your ass.

You also think about how much David would enjoy all of those things.

You start off looking at sleepwear that leans more sensible than sexy, but as you begin to wonder what he would think of each one, you quickly find yourself clicking on more and more revealing pieces.

It's when you're looking at a see through, drapey number that comes off with only a clasp between your breasts that your phone buzzes with a new text message.

You grin. You wondered how long it would be before he reached out to you. Now you're absolutely certain he's keeping tabs on you and saw how racy your searches were getting. Part of you was doing it on purpose—baiting him until he couldn't resist any longer. Even if it gave him away. You know better than to trust a coincidence.

Are you enjoying your first day of freedom?

"Immensely. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet." You're smug as you hit send because now you've added the thought of you in bed to his mental image of the lingerie.

Is that so? Sounds as though you're having a lovely morning.

Any other exciting plans for the day?

"Not unless you count a date with a book on my nightstand."

Depends on what kind of book.

"Well, there are two of them for me to choose from. One is a murder mystery. The other is a steamy romance novel." It's a lie. You have two art history books and an Amedeo Modigliani biography on your nightstand.

I see. Two very different types of thrilling.

"Exactly. On one hand, the murder mystery would stimulate my brain."

It takes a minute longer for you to get a response to that.

And what would the romance novel stimulate?

"My heart, David. What else?" You bite your lip in excitement as you continue to type.

"Now tell me which one you would like best."

If I had to choose between the two, I would prefer the murder mystery.

"Of course you would. But I meant which of the lingerie you would like best. Because I know you were watching me."

There's another pause.

All of them.

"All of them?! But there were so many!"

I'm certain. I liked all of them.

Especially since you'd be the one wearing them.

A pleasant heat unfurls in your chest and creeps up your neck at the thought of him sitting there, watching you browse, picturing you in every outfit…and maybe even saving a few of the links for later.

"Well then. I'll keep that in mind. I really liked the maroon silk one, personally. I bet it would feel nice on my skin."

I agree, it would feel very nice on your skin.

Fuck.

The mental image of his hand trailing up your thigh—pushing the hem of the nightgown higher and higher while the fabric and his palm slide over your quivering flesh—flashes vividly through your mind.

You had been enjoying a morning of relaxation and contentment just a few minutes ago. Even with a bit of light teasing about the lingerie, it had been peaceful. Now? Now that feeling has been reshaped and is nothing more than a memory. Now a slick heat has ignited in your core, and you're left nearly panting and writhing in your blankets from the intensity of it.

How quickly he can send you reeling.

God, you're definitely buying that one. Later. Right now, however, you finally have the chance to flirt with him—really flirt—and you're going to take it. Because you know where this is headed. You know where it could have resolved yesterday but didn't because you were at work.

And you're so glad you're not at work right now, stuck squirming and struggling at your desk as you try to ignore the swollen ache between your legs. Instead, you're squirming in the privacy of your bed, and you no longer have to ignore anything. Now you have no intention of stopping.

This is how you want to respond to him.

You're also really enjoying feigning innocence, and you're curious to see how much longer he'll play along. Because you have no illusions that he's buying a second of it.

"I don't think I'll be getting the black one with the sheer lace top, though. It didn't look very comfortable. I wouldn't be able to wear it for long."

Before he can reply, you quickly type out, "Wait. You're not busy, are you? I should have asked first before carrying on about my online shopping. That was rude of me."

I'm not anymore.

"Just get out of a meeting?"

I just canceled my last meeting because I've suddenly found something much better to do.

"Is helping me pick out pajamas really that thrilling?"

You can stop playing dumb now. You and I both know exactly what you're doing.

"What am I doing?" You straighten up and hold your breath in anticipation. You must be getting to him. You expected him to hold out just a little bit longer. Not that you're complaining. Not when you know you have his full attention.

You're trying to get me bothered as payback for yesterday.

"Is it working?"

You know it is.

"And just how bothered are you?"

Very.

You let out a shaky breath as you sink back into your pillows and begin to settle in. "Good. But that's not the only reason I'm doing this, David."

Is that so? What other reason do you have?

"Because I want to. Because I'm enjoying having the freedom to respond to you the way that I want."

Intriguing. And how are you doing that?

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." You shift your phone to your dominant hand to keep it steady. Then your other hand disappears beneath your covers and continues traveling down to the waistband of your panties.

Will I?

"You will. As long as you continue to please me." You nudge the fabric out of the way to give yourself the access you need and eagerly slip your hand inside. When your fingers finally brush over your arousal, you groan with relief.

There's nothing I want more than to please you.

"Is that so? How are you going to do that?" You repeat his words back to him as you rub a little harder along your damp folds. The added pressure makes your eyelids go heavy with lust. You spread your legs wider, seeking even more of that friction.

By giving you what you need.

God, you want that. From him. The thought of it makes you ache. Your fingers move to circle over your clit, dragging some of your wetness with them, and you moan into your empty bedroom. You shakily type out, "And what do I need?"

Me.

Shit. You had planned to go slow and tease yourself. You wanted to draw out the banter so you could savor your first time touching yourself to him. Because, despite the fact that he's turned you into a horny wreck several times already, you've held off until now. But as you read his text—that single word—it's as if your body has been doused in kerosene and lit on fire. Your hand speeds up.

"You seem awfully sure of that."

I'm very sure.

Are you going to tell me that I'm wrong? Or are you going to be honest?

You quickly debate finding a way to deny it. To get him to push harder because his arrogant confidence is stoking the flame in your belly and you want more. But every response you come up with sounds so flimsy. You know it won't work. He'll just call out the lie. He knows exactly how you're responding to him now, and he won't let it go, like a shark sensing blood in the water.

Well, if he wants to circle, then you'll give him prey instead—something he can't resist.

"Honest."

There's a good girl. Then be honest for me. Tell me what you need.

You cry out and your hips roll to meet the rhythm of your fingers. Your other hand is still gripping your cell phone, holding onto it for dear life so you don't drop it and miss a single word. "You."

That's right. And are you thinking about me right now?

"Yes." You are. You're thinking about his hands all over you, driving you wild and breathless and working needy little whimpers from your throat.

Very good. I hope you're thinking about all of the things I plan to do to you when I finally get my hands on you.

"Tell me. Please." More, you think. God, you need more.

And spoil the surprise? You'll have to use your imagination for now.

You grunt in frustration. "That's a little difficult when I don't know what you look like."

That is unfortunate, isn't it?

He's so god-damned smug! Jesus, it's infuriating!

There's a responding surge of wetness beneath your fingers, and the slick sound becomes obscene in your quiet bedroom.

"I've told you, it's unfair."

Nothing about this is supposed to be fair.

Your grip weakens and your phone nearly slips from your grasp, but you frantically right it. You're getting so close… "David, please!"

I promise when we move forward, you'll find out for yourself. But only when you're ready.

Unless you're done hesitating?

You know he's dangling that in front of you, tempting you with what you want so you'll say yes. You want to say yes. You want to call him right now and let him hear you say it as you moan and beg into the phone.

But that's giving him too much.

You're done hesitating. Of course you are. But when you take that step, it's going to be on your terms. You know, instinctively, that you should never give up too much power to him. Both because it would be so easy to lose yourself in him—which you don't want to do now that you've finally found yourself—and because he would delight in never giving it back.

"I suppose we'll see, won't we? I would hate to ruin the surprise."

Now who's being unfair?

"I'm only playing by your rules."

Clever.

My clever, beautiful girl. I can't wait to see you like this. I bet you look so good for me right now. Don't you?

"Yes!"

That's right. So fucking good and needy for me. God, I want you so much.

Your grip goes slack again, and this time you do drop your phone onto the bed. But you don't stop to pick it up. You're too far gone now, and you couldn't type even if you wanted to. Instead, you redouble your effort and greedily chase your orgasm, your hand moving in rapid strokes against your clit.

It's fast and messy and desperate. You haven't masturbated like this in years, but the tension has been building inside of you. It's grown under all of his teasing, his suggestive comments, his perceptive observations, and his unrevealing photos until you couldn't ignore it any longer. Now you need to release it at last—to immolate yourself in your desire.

For him.

"David," you moan. His name rolls off your tongue for the first time in ecstasy. It happens so naturally, as if you've said it that way a hundred times before. As if your mouth knows the way to give shape to your longing.

Hearing his name, when you're already poised on that edge, is your undoing.

You throw your head back into the pillow and arch off the bed with a cry as that tension finally snaps, sending a white hot fission through your veins in its place. Your toes curl and your newly freed hand bunches a fistful of your sheets, pulling them taut while your whole body shudders with every violent swell of pleasure.

As you come, all you can think about is him. "Fuck!" The movement of your fingers over your clit becomes jerky, but never slows. You're determined to make every second of this feel so fucking good. "David!" It rolls and rolls and rolls through you, weakening and yet seemingly without end as you work every last bit of rapture from your sensitive flesh—

Until, finally, you collapse against the bed with a whimper, and your hand flops weakly down onto the mattress next to you. You lay there, gasping for breath, your eyes closed, and your limbs and your brain and your belly humming in the heady afterglow of your release.

By all accounts, this should bring you a bone deep satisfaction. It should have quelled the fire that burns for him, even if only temporarily.

But as your mind clears, you feel quite the opposite. As if something has awakened inside of you, stirring from a deep slumber in that same way he roused your darkness.

And it's ravenous.

You grope along the bedspread for your phone.

When you pick it back up, your hands are still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

"I think I'm rather enjoying my new freedom."

So am I.

A groan is wrenched from your chest as you glance up at his previous messages and wonder just how much he was enjoying it. You have a pretty good guess.

"God, David. I miss you."

I miss you, too. But not for much longer.

"Would you like to chat now?" There's a renewed flutter of interest from your swollen sex as you think about doing this again, but for him.

There's nothing I want more. Unfortunately, I have some important personal matters to take care of this afternoon, but I promise the evening is yours. How does 6 o'clock sound?

There's a pang of disappointment in your chest. That's hours from now! But before you can pout, you remind yourself that you're an adult. You can control and entertain yourself until then, for christsake. Besides, he said the evening was yours. You'll have plenty of time to talk to him later.

You also really want to ask what sort of personal matters because you're curious about what they could be, and about him in general, but he would have elaborated if he wanted you to know. The word personal also denotes a certain level of privacy. So you leave it be. For now.

"That sounds lovely. I'm looking forward to it."

Me too. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your date with the book on your nightstand.

"I've changed my mind there, actually. I have a lot more shopping to do instead." You give your phone a little grin.

Oh?

"Yes. It's been so productive and satisfying thus far. Who knows what other wonderful things might result from it?"

I see.

"I hope you enjoy your afternoon."

I'm certain I will. Enjoy your shopping.

You end up purchasing some of the lingerie that gets you particularly worked up whenever you think about him—especially the maroon one. Then you spend the rest of your day purging your wardrobe of your boring work clothes and whatever else reminds you too much of your old life. The result is a sparse apartment and an even barer closet, but you like it. It's a reflection of where you are in life and of all the room you have to grow and rebuild the way you want.

You may occasionally take breaks from downsizing to browse for new outfits and dresses, but it's to figure out what you like so you can eventually replace what you're getting rid of. It's definitely not to keep David intrigued throughout the day and looking forward to talking to you again. Not when he's so busy. That would be cruel.

You can't remember ever smiling this much.

You log on several minutes early. You don't care that it's probably a little pathetic. You don't even care if it lets him know exactly how eager you are for this. You've been checking the clock since five and you were getting impatient. You can only pace so many circles in your living room before you lose your mind. Not that sitting there and staring at your own face is any better, but at least it gets you closer to him.

To your relief, he logs on a few minutes early, too. Possibly because he knows you're already here, but you hope it’s because he was impatient as well. The electronic chime makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Hello, David."

Hello, darling.

The image of you on the screen practically swoons at his greeting. There's no other way to describe the gentle tilting of your head, your dreamy smile, or how your eyes soften with affection.

You barely recognize this woman.

You're not sure you've ever made that face before now. Or if you have, it was when the National Gallery rotated Cornelius van Haarlem's Two Followers of Cadmus devoured by a Dragon back into display after you hadn't seen it in a while. Never for another person. Certainly not for a black square not even three centimeters wide.

This man is dangerous.

Getting impatient, were you?

"I knew you were going to say something," you grumble as you fight off a sudden wave of embarrassment.

How could I not? You have no idea how lovely this feeling is. It's gratifying to have such a beautiful woman wanting to talk to you.

You lean in close and lower your voice. "In that case, I was very impatient."

Hmm. I'm so very pleased to hear it.

Did you have a productive afternoon?

"I did, actually. I accomplished quite a bit."

Good. And did you have fun shopping?

"You know I did." You give the camera a heated smile. While it wasn't as risque as the lingerie, the clothes you were looking at—low cut silky blouses, high slit skirts, backless tops, skin tight pants—were still sexy, just in a more subtle way.

Do I?

You roll your eyes and ignore the obvious bait—something that would have irritated a response from you just a few days ago. "How was your afternoon?"

Also productive, despite the circumstances.

"Circumstances?" You cock an eyebrow, no longer able to ignore it. He really does know how to push your buttons, after all, much to your chagrin. "Do you mean with your personal matters or do you mean spying on me?"

Both, but I wouldn't call it spying.

"Well, I would! So it serves you right." Despite your fake outrage, you're thrilled he was still paying attention, even when he was busy.

Do you want me to stop?

You pause to consider your answer. You think you should probably be unsettled that he's monitoring all of your activity. If any other man did that, you would be furious and horrified, but he's not any other man. He's also not holding it over you, making you feel bad, or controlling what you're doing. So far—your answer would change if he were. He's simply looking.

And you enjoy knowing that he's looking. In a strange way, it makes you feel connected to him, even when you aren't chatting, as if it's just another aspect of your relationship. It also makes you feel like you're the most important and interesting thing in his life—you'll admit that particular feeling has become quite addictive. You enjoy being able to take advantage of it as well, like you did this afternoon.

However, there may be times when you do want privacy for a specific reason. He certainly doesn't need to know every detail about your hygiene purchases or your embarrassing Google searches. Well, future embarrassing searches, anyway. It also makes it very difficult to surprise him if he can see what you're up to.

"No, I don't want you to stop." Your lips curl into a seductive smile. "I like it quite a bit, in fact. I just have one condition."

What's that?

"If I do ever ask for privacy, you give it to me. No questions asked and no looking."

Of course. Then you'll have it.

"I mean it," you say seriously. "I need to trust you'll respect my wishes."

You have my word that I will give you privacy whenever you request it. You only ever need to ask.

"Alright." You relax in your chair, mollified by his response. Because you believe him. "Thank you, David."

You're welcome.

Now tell me about your productivity.

"That's not a very exciting topic of conversation, I'm afraid. In fact, most of it was quite boring."

Tell me anyway.

"Well, I went through my flat and got rid of everything that felt like it belonged to the person I was pretending to be and not me."

I see. That doesn't sound boring. You shed another one of your layers.

I bet it felt good.

"It did! It felt freeing. I didn't realize before how much my place felt like a stage. As if the performance didn't stop, even when I was alone. And when I had a roommate? God, no wonder I was always so miserable."

It's also probably why you grew to resent every roommate you've ever had, no matter how much you didn't mind or tolerated them when they moved in. It didn't matter if they were quiet or cleaned up after themselves. Their presence meant the only place you could truly let your guard down was your bedroom. It was exhausting.

"But now the set dressings are gone. No more calf length pencil skirts or tacky lingerie. No more gifted kitchen gadgets and holiday candles. No more cheap art prints of pieces that I don't even like.” Then you grumble, “God, I swear I had like, half a dozen versions of Irises.”

No more mask.

"No more mask," you repeat out loud with a sigh of relief. Even saying it feels incredible. "Speaking of, you'll be pleased to hear I've also been doing some reflecting since we talked yesterday." You can't help the smug grin that creeps onto your face.

Oh?

"Yes. I've figured out where my reflex to apologize when I think I've upset or inconvenienced someone comes from."

Have you? Does that mean you're ready to talk about your mother?

You huff out a laugh and shake your head. Of course. You should have seen that coming. "You're frighteningly good at that."

It's a gift.

You can feel his smirk through your screen. "So it is. And I'm glad to know that I'm predictable."

I never used that word.

"It's true, though." You shrug, unbothered by your own statement. "It's a behavior that's usually learned in childhood. In this instance, I'm not particularly unique."

I disagree.

"I just meant that a lot of people have troubled relationships with their parents." A lot of them developed the same issues from it as well, you think to yourself. Granted, the cliche is that women in the sex work industry have daddy issues, not mommy issues. So perhaps you're not entirely predictable.

And yet, they're not you. They didn't become what you are.

"And just what am I?" That's another thing you haven't looked at too closely. You've been so consumed with the "who," you haven't really considered the "what."

You're something entirely different. Something more like me.

"That's not an answer."

I assure you, it is.

"It's not, David," you insist. "I still don't fully know what that means!"

If you're expecting me to pathologize you instead, I'm not going to.

"Why not?" You tilt your head curiously. You weren't actually expecting him to, but now you're intrigued as to why he won't.

Because that's not an answer to your question either. Those terms and labels are just more costumes that don't suit you. You're far more than that.

Before you can object that you disagree and that it might actually help you understand yourself better, he continues on. As if he anticipated what you were going to say.

It would also imply there's something wrong with you. But there's nothing wrong with you, despite what anyone may have told you in the past.

"You really do have me all figured out, don't you?" There's more affection in your voice than you intended.

I told you. I see you.

"You do. And I'm guessing you see my text message history, too." You raise an eyebrow at the camera in challenge, daring him to deny it.

You thought a lot about what else he would have access to after he blindsided you with the knowledge of your side bank account. Reading your texts would be absurdly easy in comparison, so of course he knows about your relationship with your mother. It's also how he knew that threatening to tell her your secret would be so effective.

That as well.

"I think that's the first thing I know you've seen that I feel embarrassed about."

Why?

"Because it means you've seen the worst of my mask," you say quietly.

I wouldn't say that. I saw a daughter desperate for her mother's affection and approval.

"Oh, god," you groan as you rub a hand over your face, completely mortified by his phrasing, but unable to find fault in it. "That's exactly what I mean!"

You're not the one who should be embarrassed by those messages.

"I'm the only one that is. Or will be. Trust me, she thinks everything she's ever said to me was righteous and justified, and you can't get blood from a stone." You flop your hand back onto the desk—a little harder than you meant to—and it makes your webcam shake.

You can already feel that mixture of hurt and anger rising in your throat and threatening to spill out. You quickly swallow it down and take a deep breath to regain control over your emotions. You're not going to have a breakdown on camera because of her. You're done letting her hurt you.

It's not righteous or justified, but I'm guessing you know that already.

"I do, but I appreciate the reassurance anyway." You give him a soft, grateful smile. Then your face falls as you glance back down to your keyboard. "What else did you see?"

Most of your text conversations with her are arguments. I suspect your phone conversations are similar.

"They are," you confirm without hesitation. "I don't think we know how to communicate any other way."

But you're not the instigator, are you?

"No," you sigh heavily. "I do everything I can to avoid an argument because I'm just so tired of it, but it usually doesn't matter. She can always find fault with my tone or something I've said. And of course there's also the fact that I don't go to church, don't have an important career, haven't gotten married, and don't have or want children. You can imagine her disappointment."

I shudder to think.

What an exhausting, horrible woman.

"That she is," you can't help but laugh. Despite the heavy topic of conversation, his irritation on your behalf is endearing. "I hate calling her or answering the phone. And God forbid I need something! You'll note that when I needed money to keep my flat, I became a camgirl before I even thought about asking her for help."

I had noticed you never considered doing anything else. Then I read your messages and it wasn't difficult to understand why.

You try not to feel mortified once again at the reminder that he's seen those. Instead, you tell yourself that he saw them and he kept looking. They didn't disgust him or scare him off—from you anyway. Even after reading them, he still wanted you.

You truly understand now what he's always meant when he says he sees you. It's a very assuring, lovely thought.

"It turned out to be a wonderful decision, at least." You give the camera a coy smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

I would have to agree. A very wonderful decision.

"She wouldn't have helped me anyway, so I knew it was pointless. The few times she did, she lorded it over me constantly. As if I should be forever in her debt because she paid for my university textbooks years ago."

Is that another reason you were so afraid to take my money? Or why you were worried about feeling as though you owed me?

"Huh…" You lean back in your chair as you mull THAT one over. You hadn't quite connected those dots yet, but now that he's pointed it out, you have always been bad at accepting any help or gifts. Every single one felt like it came with an unspoken expectation or debt of some kind that would be called upon later. Now you know why.

You briefly wonder what other sort of connections you'll make in the future. Because you're starting to realize there are still plenty of them left to be uncovered.

"I think that was part of it, certainly, but you have to admit, the circumstances were also a very big factor as to why I didn't want your money."

Of course. You thought I was trying to buy you.

"I absolutely did! And in a way, you were," you tease. "It was just my attention you were paying for."

I made no attempt to hide that what I wanted was you, but it really was a gift. I knew the money would give you the freedom to think about everything I said, and once you did, you could no longer ignore your mask. Then maybe you would finally rid yourself of it. I wanted that for you.

And I wanted to see what would become of you when your strings were cut.

"Well, are you pleased with your handiwork?"

Quite pleased. I'm enjoying seeing the real you and how beautifully you've flourished in the light, now that you're no longer hiding.

"I have flourished, haven't I? I feel at home in my own skin for the first time in my life." You arch your shoulders, stretching lazily as if to savor the truth of your statement, before resting your forearms on the desk. You look quite pleased with yourself as well. "For so long I've been afraid to peel back all those layers and confront what's underneath, but now that I'm finally realizing who I am and what I want, I can't stop picking. I like what's underneath."

So do I.

You deserve to be proud. You've been working very hard to find your truth.

A warmth radiates through your chest at his praise.

"I have." Then you smile sadly. "Unfortunately, the truth hasn't always been painless."

No. It's never that.

"But every second has been worth it to have this." You glance up at the camera and let the double meaning hang in the air.

I'm glad. And I would have to agree. Wholeheartedly.

After a hesitation, you say, "One of those painful truths was realizing that my mother probably had a big hand in making me what I am."

Darling, NO.

The only thing she had a hand in was making you feel ashamed of yourself or like you had to hide what you are. She tried to destroy something exquisite and she failed. You are what you are despite her.

Do you know why? It's because you're better than her. You always have been and she knows it. Why do you think she treats you the way she does? That woman is a monster and she doesn't deserve any part of you.

Your eyes immediately fill with tears as you read the chat box. No one's ever told you that before. You may have come to the same conclusion last night, but you had no idea how much you needed to hear it from someone else, so to speak. Now hearing it from him?

"God, David. I've never…" you trail off, your voice choked with emotion. It takes you a second to get control over yourself enough to continue. "Thank you. And you're right." You sniffle and quickly try to blink away the tears. Then with more force, you say, "I've endured her for too long. Thankfully, I never have to again. I blocked her number last night and I'm cutting her out of my life."

You did?

"I did. Once I realized there was nothing good there to hold onto, even the idea of removing her from my life brought me more peace and happiness than having her in it ever did."

Good. I hope it does.

"So far, so good." You give him a teary smile.

I'm sure that couldn't have been easy.

"It wasn't. Or at least the process of coming to that conclusion wasn't, but it was all far more anticlimactic than I thought it would be."

Is that why you sent me that message?

"Oh, god." Your face begins to burn with embarrassment as you remember texting him while more than a little tipsy. "Yes," you finally answer sheepishly while you glance up at the ceiling. 

Why are you embarrassed by that?

"Because, if I'm being honest, I was two and a half glasses of wine in when I sent that."

Were you now?

"I was. I knew it was the only way I would be able to cope with that whole process."

And did it help?

"I think it did. I got through it, anyway. I'm just glad that I didn't call or text her. God, that would have been a trainwreck." You glance suggestively up at the camera and lower your voice. "I have far less self-control when it comes to you, apparently."

You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing that.

"But we should both be grateful that I didn't send you anything messier than I already did."

I don't know, sounds intriguing.

"See, you're thinking about me sending you something sexy, but I'm worried about sending you something frantic and emotional," you laugh. "Which would have been far more likely given the circumstances."

Hmm. I see your point.

"So anticlimactic really was for the best all around. And it's done now."

Good riddance.

"Do you want to know the worst part, though?" This time there's a bitterness to your smile, and it doesn't meet your eyes. "Through all of this, I never stopped wanting her to love me. I tried so hard. I never stopped trying, but she did. A long time ago. She'll never be the mom that I want, just like I was never the daughter she wanted. I know that now and I've finally made peace with that reality. Plus, realizing I would never understand or get any sort of closure was another big catalyst for me to finally pull that trigger the way I did." Your face finally softens. "But I never would have confronted any of that if not for you."

You would have gotten there on your own. Eventually.

“Possibly. I was getting exhausted from it. To the point that everytime my phone rang, I considered tossing it out the window rather than answer it.”

I could make her life miserable, you know.

If you asked it of me.

"Tempting." You let out a chuckle and wipe away the remnants of a tear drying on your cheek. "But I'd rather her not be in my life at all, even through you. I'm making a clean cut so she can no longer use me to build herself up, and for her that will be a worse punishment than anything you could think of."

I don't know. I have a very vivid imagination.

But I will leave it be unless you change your mind.

"I do appreciate the offer." You smile gratefully. "That's twice now you've given me the opportunity for vengeance."

It won't be the last, should you ever feel the need for it.

"Is it strange that I find the thought of you wanting to make someone miserable for hurting me sweet and endearing?"

No.

I would hurt anyone you asked me to, even if all they did was annoy you.

"You would?"

I would. Without hesitation. For you.

"Fuck," you gasp as you squirm in your seat, suddenly very turned on. "I really like the thought of that."

Do you?

"I do." 

How much?

"This much." You bite your lip as you bring your hands to your top. Then you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. The heat that started between your thighs rises to your belly. This is finally happening.

There's a pause.

You're sure?

"Yes. I'm so sure you didn't even have to ask." Your fingers continue to methodically work each loop as you speak, driven on by determination. "I'm done hesitating. I want this, David. I wanted it last night before I got interrupted, and I wanted it this afternoon."

You’ve found closure for so much of your past—all the ties to your old life, your social media, your friends, your job, your mother—and you're done looking back. All you want now is to move forward. After all the emotional turmoil you went through to get to this point, all you want is to fall into him.

Once you’ve finished, your top spills open, revealing the cups of your bra and your bare stomach on the screen. The chat box sits, unmoving, and you realize he must be watching very carefully. So you slide the fabric down your arms, seductively arching your chest towards the camera to make a show of it, until it comes free. You toss it to the side without looking. Then you're left in nothing but your bra and skirt.

"I want you to see me. All of me. I want to show you what you're missing, hiding from me behind that screen. You could be here with your hands and your mouth on me, instead, you know. I want you to think about that, and I want you to touch yourself while you do." You look directly into the webcam with all of the desire, need, and heat that has been building up inside of you for the past week. "Because I plan to as well. Again."

You have no idea how much I’ve resisted doing all of that. It's taken every ounce of my self-control to resist you.

"Why can't we just give in then?" You beg for the camera. "Why can't we just skip this part? Come here now. Tonight. Touch me instead."

You aren't ready for that yet.

"I strongly disagree!" You scoff, almost offended at the implication that you don't know what you want.

Besides, I get to see you like this first, remember? I get to see you in a way no one else ever has. I've earned it.

"You have," you sigh in acceptance. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. "Don't worry, I'll give it to you. Not just because I'm too fucking horny to argue with you properly right now, but also because I said I would, and I'm still going to enjoy letting go for you. Just know that it's a poor substitute for you. Because what I really want is to hear your voice as you tell me how good it feels to fuck me. I want to hear the way you moan and gasp when you lose control of yourself inside of me. I want to know your face when you do. Because I want you, David."

It takes a moment for him to reply. You're aware you'll never get to know exactly how he responded to you. You'll never get to see the look on his face or hear the sounds he made as you said those things to him. But, you think with no small amount of smugness, you can take a very good guess.

Then you'll have me. Soon.

Until then, show me what I'll have.

Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to see you.

You stand up from your chair to do as he instructed. The angle of the camera means your face is no longer in view, and it reminds you so much of your streams that it's momentarily jarring. But once you unzip your skirt, you bend forward to push it down your hips, and the sight of your own face brings you back to the moment.

The one where you're stripping for your stalker slash blackmailer, and it's the sexiest, most romantic thing that's ever happened to you.

Your skirt hits the floor with a soft thump, and you step out of it as you nudge it to the side with your foot. If you remove one more thing, it will be the most he's ever seen of you. Now each step forward is not only new, but is one step closer to getting what you really want: Him.

The thought is thrilling.

So thrilling that you waste no time. You hook your thumbs into the thin elastic of your panties and slip them—slowly, inch by inch to continue teasing him—to your knees, baring your lower half to him.

You stand there for a few seconds, letting him take it all in. That's what he wanted, after all. To see all of you. For you to show him all of you. Every moment between you has been leading to this, and you won't deny him now.

When you sit back down, you slide your panties the rest of the way off. They get thoughtlessly added to the growing, scattered pile. Then you stay there on your repurposed dining room chair, bare skin on wood, and you wait.

As you do, you're very careful to keep your legs closed. It wouldn't do to rush this and give everything away all at once. Especially not when you currently hold all of the power. He may have earned this, but so have you. And you’re going to relish it for as long as you can.

Except there's still nothing new in the chat box. You tell yourself he's probably just settling in and enjoying the view, but the silence is unnerving. You have no way of knowing what he's thinking right now, if he's even enjoying it, and that makes you feel exposed. You’ve gotten so comfortable with the back and forth—of getting some feedback—that not getting it is a sobering reminder that you can't read his expressions or hear the tone of his voice. All he really is to you is text on a screen.

“David?” You call out hesitantly.

Another minute passes and you start to wonder if he's intentionally trying to make you squirm. He does enjoy it, after all. Or perhaps he recognizes how the balance of power has shifted, and he's trying to take some back for himself. It does seem like a very David thing to do.

Then, without warning, your mind offers up the possibility that he's disappointed. That you aren't what he was expecting and now he’s—

God, you’re beautiful. I knew you would be.

Relief courses through you, alleviating the weight that was settling in your chest.

Or maybe he was just taking his pants off, too.

I want to see the rest of you.

That's all the reassurance you need to banish that momentary doubt completely.

You reach behind yourself to undo the clasp of your bra. Rather than remove it, you hug the material loosely to your chest and give the camera a coy glance.

“You mean like this?” You tease as your fingers play with the straps.

Yes.

Take it off.

You slowly lower your arms, letting it fall away from your breasts. And just like that, you're naked on screen—something you never thought would happen. Something you swore would never happen. But there you are, running the tips of your fingers enticingly up the tops of your thighs and over your bare hips. For him.

Seeing you like this was worth every second of waiting. You're stunning. Just perfect.

“Thank you, David,” you say softly, touched by his compliments. It’s sweet, but if he keeps this up, you’ll be feeling more affectionate than horny.

You have no idea how much I want to be the one touching you right now.

That's better.

"Oh, but I think I know exactly what it's like to want you to be the one touching me. Do you have any idea how much I've fantasized about your hands on me since you sent me that picture? God, if I hadn't been at work, I would have made myself come so many times."

That's why I didn't want you distracted.

"I wasn't distracted this afternoon," you say in a husky voice.

No you weren't. 

Did it feel good to finally give in?

"Yes." You bite your lip as you remember the way that growing tension in your belly finally gave when you moaned his name. "It felt so good to respond to you."

Did you think about me touching you like you wanted?

"God, yes. In every way I could think of."

Where did you imagine me touching you? Show me where you like to be touched.

You run a finger from your jaw, down the column of your neck, and then trace along your collarbone. "If you kiss me here, I'll be weak in your arms. But if I feel your tongue here, you'll have me begging."

Then I'll have you weak and begging.

Is that all?

"I was getting there." You smile playfully. “So impatient.”

You continue to run your fingers down your sternum, letting your knuckles skim against the swell of your breasts. You stop and move to cup the soft flesh with your hands.

“I want your lips and your hands here,” you moan as you start to gently massage yourself. Your nipples harden under your palms as you rub over them, causing a pleasant shiver to snake its way through you. Then you arch into your own hands as you think about what it would be like to have his hands here instead. Whether his touch would be gentle like this, or harsh as he wrenches a shudder from the sensitive peaks.

I'm going to enjoy doing just that. Especially if you'll be this responsive for me.

“More so,” you vow, breathlessly, "because it would be you. Are you touching yourself now?"

Yes.

“Fuck,” you hiss. "Are you imagining that it's me instead?"

You know I am.

"Good because I want it to be me. I'm aching to put my hands on you, too.” Your hands lower from your breasts to brush across your stomach. “Where do you like to be touched, David?"

By you? There's nowhere I wouldn't want your hands.

Intriguing, but you know he can give you more than that. "Then where should I start?"

There’s a brief pause that almost feels like hesitation.

My face.

"Your face?” You blink in mild surprise. You weren't expecting that answer, but now you understand the hesitation. He was preparing to admit something vulnerable to you. “That's very intimate."

Is it? Maybe that's why I've never liked it before, but I think I will if you do it.

Despite how sexy all of this is, your heart flutters at the sweetness of that line. He wants intimacy with you, not just the sex. You're reminded of what he said to you yesterday: ‘I want you to be mine in every way it's possible to want someone.’

“I like the thought of that.” You lean in towards the camera, letting your eyelids go heavy as you lower your voice to something both seductive and tender. "Do you want me to cup your cheeks and stroke my fingers over you as we kiss?"

Yes.

"Then maybe I could…” You drop to a half whisper, “kiss along your jaw as well."

It's like you read my mind.

There's a pleased flush in your chest that creeps onto your face as the hint of a smile. "Do you have facial hair?"

No.

"Good to know." You imagine your lips moving over smooth, tanned skin. You wonder if it will be soft, or a little rough with age.

Do you prefer beards?

"I don't have a preference. What looks good depends on the person." You tilt your head curiously. “Have you ever tried growing a beard?”

Once. It didn't suit me.

“Then I'd prefer you without one.”

You're assembling these new, small pieces together with your existing mental image of him. It's like staring at a magic eye puzzle—if you look hard enough, you can almost swear you see the shape of him. But then you blink and it's gone.

You need more.

“Where would I touch you next?”

My chest.

"Is that so?"

Yes.

"Please tell me you don't shave your chest, too. Promise me you have chest hair."

I promise I have chest hair.

"Oh, thank god,” you sigh with relief. “Because you have hair on the backs of your hands and wrists and it's so fucking sexy. I can only imagine how sexy the rest of it is."

You like that, do you?

“Yes.”

Then I think you’ll be pleased.

"Christ, I like the sound of that.” You squirm a bit in your seat. “Where else do you like to be touched?"

My cock.

You nearly choke on a whimper. 

Up till now, this felt like an exploration—or as much as it could be with only you on the screen. You were expecting a buildup of teasing and touching and sharing before you both truly let go. Instead, he sent you reeling. Again. He must be getting impatient.

As you stare at that line, there's a painful ache of arousal between your legs. You unconsciously grind yourself down onto your chair to alleviate some of it. The seat is going to be a mess by the time you're done, you think.

"I plan to touch you there a lot."

Yes you will.

"Are you circumcised?" You can't help the curiosity that seeps into your voice.

I'm not going to describe my cock to you.

"David!" You pout at your screen. "I'm not asking for numbers, here. I just want to know what it would be like to stroke you."

And you'll find out eventually.

“That's not fair.” You are completely naked, after all.

I already told you it's not supposed to be fair.

“Yes, yes, you’re very mysterious,” you huff in disappointment.

Like I said, you’ll find out eventually.

“Soon, I hope.”

Soon.

Now I want you to go back to showing me where you want my hands.

“Do you?” You lean back in your chair. “You want more to think about while you're touching yourself?”

That's exactly what I want.

“Hmm, how can I ever say no to that?” Then you lean even further back so you can caress over the curve of your hips. “You can run your hands along here as you feel your way over my body. It will feel lovely, but I'll enjoy it even more if you grab me instead. Because I want to feel how much you need me.”

That's good because I want to grab you by the hips to hold you still as I slam my cock into you.

“Fuck, David!” You cry out. Your hands reflexively grip and squeeze your own hips at the mental image, your fingers digging almost painfully into the bone. Your sex clenches in anticipation, hoping you’ll get what he said would come next.

If he was there with you and not still on the other end of the call. God, you wish he was there.

After that, you also know the teasing and buildup has come to an end. You can't hold back any longer, and he's made it very clear that neither can he.

"Do you know where else I liked to be touched?" Before he can reply, you finally tilt your hips and spread your legs wide, exposing your sex for the camera. You settle your knees on either side of the seat of the chair with your calves tucked against the wooden legs.

You like to think, if he were there in person, he would have been opening his mouth to answer as the words died on his lips. Instead, you imagine his fingers frozen over his keyboard as he gets to see the part of you he's been waiting for. You're certain he's been going slow—stroking himself enough for it to feel good, but not so much that he loses control. Not until he gets what he wants. Not until he's gotten this.

You end the exploration of your body by reaching between your thighs. Then you cup your mound and begin teasing your fingers along your folds. God, you're already so wet. "Right here. Especially by a hand that knows what I need."

Show me what you need.

You plunge a finger into your entrance and moan at the intrusion. You can't remember the last time you did this. Usually you focus on just your clit with your fingers or your vibrator, eager for the release and not caring much about indulging in the process. You didn't have a reason for it other than getting off to relieve some tension.

Now, as you slide your finger out and draw it over that sensitive nub, you want it back inside of you. You want to be full as you think of him. So you press two inside of you instead.

"I want to know what you look like so badly," you gasp as your fingers begin to work your cunt.

Do you?

"I do. And I want to know what you feel like."

You will, that I promise you.

"God," you whine and slip a third finger into your opening. "This feels so good. I haven't fingered myself in a while."

Why not?

"I haven't wanted to. I just wanted a quick orgasm."

Then I continue to keep my promise, don't I? I made you want to.

"Yes! Christ, I want to," you gasp and rock your hips up to meet your hand. "I want to touch myself like this for you. I love knowing that you're watching me, David, and that you're getting off to it. But more than that, I love pretending that it's you."

If you're pretending that it's me, you need to go deeper because I intend to fuck you properly.

You slam your fingers into yourself as far as they will go, and your head falls back with a cry. “God, I want you to fuck me. Please!”

While I grab your pretty hips and make you take every bit of me?

“Fuck! Yes, exactly like that!” You whine. “I can't believe you're going to make us wait for this! Because you don't have to. You could have me now."

I could.

I could have you however I wanted, couldn't I?

You glance down at the camera, your eyes heavy with lust. "Would you like that?"

You're not answering the question.

"That's because I know better than to say yes," you pant. Your fingers are still working inside of you, stretching you in a way that is both satisfying and not nearly enough. It's driving you crazy.

What does that mean?

"We both know that if I bare my throat to you, you won't be able to resist ripping it out."

I would never hurt you unless you wanted it.

"I believe that you would never want to, but I see you, too. You couldn't help it.” Your hand slows, and you tilt your head as you consider your computer screen. “Could you?"

There's a moment of stillness from the chat box, and you briefly wonder if you've upset him, even though you know you're right. You know there's something about him that’s dangerous and predatory. He admitted as much himself. And it’s not like you feel the need to be overly careful or afraid of him. The thought doesn't bother you. You simply know that you can never tempt him by actually offering yourself up as helpless prey. Or he might just get a taste for it. 

Because you can love a predator as long as you never forget, for even a second, that it's still a predator—no matter how much it shows you its belly and loves you back.

You know all of that. Instinctively. Logically.

And yet.

You do so love being his favorite little prey.

"It doesn't scare me, David," you say quietly to break the silence.

No?

"No. Quite the opposite." You draw your fingers out of yourself to rub over your clit with a moan. "It intrigues me."

I know it does.

Why do you think I’ve done all of this? I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you could want what I am.

“And what are you, David?”

Darling, did you really think I would answer that question? Where's the fun in that?

“But I want to know.” Your fingers speed back up against your bundle of nerves. “I want to know everything about you.”

You will.

“And I want to know every secret you keep from the rest of the world.”

Don't worry, you’ll know me completely.

Eventually.

His words feel like a promise and a threat. You shiver with pleasure.

You shift down far enough in your chair to get a better angle. Then you bring your knees up and plant your feet wide against the edge of your desk. You know this has the added bonus of giving him an even better view of your opening. It also gives him a hint of what it might look like when you finally lay back and spread your legs for him.

"Can you see how wet I am?" You drag your fingers over your clit with a gasp. “Can you see how much I want you?”

Yes. I can see exactly how eager you are.

"Good. As you're stroking yourself, I want you to think about burying your cock right here.” You move your other hand between your thighs. Without hesitation, you plunge your fingers into your entrance again. Now you’re pleasuring your clit while also getting that enticing fullness you ache for, and it feels fucking incredible. The sight of both of your hands moving on your screen only adds to the indulgence.

As if I could think about anything else.

"I wish I was watching you right now instead of myself."

You want to watch me stroke my cock to you?

Your whole body shudders, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper. "Yes! I want to watch the way your hand slides over your cock and how it throbs and twitches in your fist. I want to see what I do to you."

What you do to me…

You drive me insane. I've never needed to fuck someone like I need to fuck you.

"Jesus!" You wail as your hips jerk forward, and your knees start to shake. “David!”

That's right. I'm going to make you sob my name.

"If you keep talking like that, I'm not going to last long,” you pant.

Good. I want to see you let go for me.

“But I want you to enjoy this!”

You think I'm not enjoying this?

I finally got to see how responsive you are to my words and hear the sounds you make when you're like this. This is everything I wanted. Better, even. Now I can't imagine how much better it will be in person.

When you're full of my cock instead of your fingers.

“Fuck!” You’re driving those fingers in and out of your cunt with purpose now. You're no longer giving him a show. This is you feeling your orgasm closing in on you and scrambling for it, desperate and needy.

Fuck, that's good. Look at you. You're so god-damned beautiful as you fuck yourself for me.

"God, yes!" You gasp as you arch in your chair. "For you."

Only me. Only I can see you like this.

Say it.

"Only you, David."

That's my girl.

Now you're going to come for me.

“I'm so close,” you whine.

And I'm going to come as I imagine your tight little cunt.

“David,” you gasp, barely able to speak now through your ragged breathing. “Please.”

It's all I've been able to think about for months. It's going to feel so fucking good to finally get to fuck you and come with my cock buried inside of you. And I'm going to do it over and over again until I physically can't anymore.

Do you understand? I NEED you. Fuck!

“Yes,” you barely whisper. You're not even sure the microphone picked it up, but you have nothing more to give. The tension building inside of you is becoming nearly suffocating as you read every word. You feel you might drown in it before you ever find release.

As you continue seeking your own satisfaction, a photo pops up in the chat.

At the top of the photo, there’s the edge of a laptop keyboard, which is sat on top of a very ornate and expensive looking wooden desk. But that's not the point of the photo. No. That's not what strangles your breath in your throat or sets a flame in your chest that licks at your cheeks.

The polished surface of the desk is streaked and splattered with come. His come.

You imagine him standing in front of his computer, urgently stroking himself until he's shuddering out his orgasm and spending himself across the surface. All while his eyes never leave you on the screen.

You made him do that.

Your hand speeds up—the circles your fingers are rubbing over your clit are becoming almost brutal and painful, even as pleasure rakes up your belly and your whole body starts to tense. You're so close. So fucking close. You didn't know it was possible to balance on that edge for so long without falling in either direction.

You can't tear your eyes away from that ruined surface or get the thought of him fucking his own fist out of your head as you keep chasing oblivion and—

This is what you do to me.

Oh.

You bury your fingers into your cunt just as your walls clench down around them, and you come undone for the second time that day. To him.

You open your mouth to cry out, to wail his name as part of your release, but it gets choked to nothing more than a thought as your climax slams into you so hard that it knocks the wind out of you. You throw your head back from the force of it. As you try to ride each pulse of ecstasy out against your fingers, the muscles in your legs tense. Then you're involuntarily pushing against your desk with your feet.

The front two legs of the chair lift off the floor.

For a brief moment, your stomach lurches and you think you're going to topple backwards. Instead, you stay like that, hovering between stability and free fall, letting a wave of fear and adrenaline wash over you. Perhaps that should have ruined this, but the additional sensations only heighten and sharpen every breathless shudder until all of your nerve endings thrum. You’ve never felt so painfully, blissfully, alive.

Once you're fully spent, you carefully let the chair fall forward, returning to its proper position on all four legs. Then you bring one of your own legs down to plant a foot onto the carpet to ground yourself and stop that feeling of weightlessness still lingering within you.

God, you're stunning. The most exquisite thing I've ever seen. You were wonderful for me.

You sit there, bonelessly draped back in your seat, sweaty, your arms hanging at your sides, with your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. And you try to smile for him anyway because, between his praise and your orgasm, you swear you’re glowing.

But you didn't scream my name.

You let out a breathless sound of protest. “Couldn't. I tried. Seeing what I do to you…it was too good, holy shit." You swallow hard and shift forward into a more comfortable position in the chair. "But I thought it, David. You were the only thing I knew while I came for you."

Mmmm, that's very good. But you're still going to do better next time. I’ll make sure of it.

"With you?" You ask hopefully.

With me.

FOR me.

Your face burns, and there's a weak twinge of arousal between your legs. Even though it's a mere shadow of what you’ve already experienced today, you’re amazed it's even possible after that.

…You still don't even know what he looks like, you think.

God, he's dangerous.

Won't you?

"Yes," you moan. "I promise I will scream your name until my voice gives out, as long as you're the one coaxing it out of me."

Yes you will.

You whimper. "When?"

Soon.

There are some things I need to take care of first. Then I will send for you.

Your heart begins to pound with nerves and anticipation. This is really happening. "How long?"

Only a few days.

A grunt of shock is ripped from your throat. "Days?!"

Now who's eager?

"I can't help it," you purr, softening at his teasing as you run your hand along your still trembling inner thigh. "I want to see you. And I want you inside of me."

You'll have that.

I'LL have that.

"How many days?" You're almost afraid to ask.

I'll have a car pick you up Monday evening.

There's a heavy drop of disappointment in your stomach. "That's three days…" 

Enough time to have all of my obligations done and taken care of. I want to be able to focus entirely on you once I have you. Like you deserve.

“But that's so long!” It's taking everything in you not to pout. You realize now you’ve been interpreting “soon” to mean you might finally get to see him, say, tomorrow. Or maybe even still tonight. It never occurred to you that it might be longer and that you’d have to wait for him.

I know, darling. I don't like it anymore than you do. And I would never make you wait if it wasn't important, but I have promises to keep.

“Alright,” you sigh. You find that you're, once again, reminding yourself that you're an adult. You can be patient.

And now that you're thinking about it, this gives you plenty of time to prepare as well. You don't have promises to keep, but you can certainly think of a few appointments you should make. When the time comes, you want everything to be perfect.

Besides, after that you’ll never have to wait again. Will you?

“No, David.” You lean forward as you stare into the camera. “Once I have you, I intend to never wait again. Because once I have you, you’re mine.”

That's my girl.

Later that night, when you go to sleep, you take your laptop with you and leave it open on your dresser, facing the bed. On your side table, you prop your phone up into its charging stand and make sure it's positioned just right as well. You want to give him two angles to enjoy this time. Then you sprawl out on top of your covers, still completely naked.

On your phone, you carefully type out, “I hope you didn't think the show was over. Because I still have more I can give you, and it would be such a shame to waste it. Enjoy, David. X”

As you hit send, you reach into the top drawer of your nightstand and pull out your vibrator. Then you settle back, and—with a desire that feels nearly insatiable now—you work several more orgasms from your clit while you gasp and moan and scream his name.

All while you know he's watching.

A/N: See? Who needs therapy when you have fanfiction?? 😌 (Christine please ignore the 🚩💕) I debated about whether or not to write a phone call with her mom, but I realized I don't actually want to give her a voice. Because this story isn't about her or even the reader's past. It's about healing from trauma, moving forward as the worst version of yourself, and falling in fucked up love with a stalker/serial killer. 😌

[deus-ex-mona]

when the slowburn makes the ship extra cute~~~

[good-beanswrites]

oomph i know i'm definitely really early with this ask (changing time zones for vacation is weird o.O) but I was thinking about it over the past few days

for the lights, camera, sing your sins au, are the interrogations somewhat scripted where the prisoner knows what to say and Es is mostly just reactions or questions to that? I feel like we've talked about this but I have forgotten jandjnf o.O

because all i can think about is Es getting beaten up or close to tears in the first voice dramas and man if it's scripted, i feel bad for the prisoners who have to do this to es o.O

Hi Mug :D No worries, a slightly late reply because I was on vacation too haha! 🍂

And I mean it's whatever works best in people's minds, but I always pictured there being very little scripted, actually! I'd hoped that everything was as natural as possible. The prisoners just have to make the little shift to act as if they did follow through with the murder instead of talk about how close it came -- other than that, everything that happens is the characters' honest questions, answers, and reactions.

When explaining the no-violence ban to everyone, Fuuta and Kazui (and later Amane) tell Jackalope how they would think during their interrogations. Jackalope instructs them all how to act in order to stay consistent with the barriers/losing strength stuff. I think the only explicitly scripted action is Mikoto's violence, since Red admits he may resort to that if Blue felt threatened. Jackalope tells him to get to the point of violence no matter how the interrogation goes, as it's necessary (to proving Mikoto's situation, to driving home the central ideas of Mikoto's case, to reveal Milgram's process and 'limits,' etc).

And yeah, it definitely tears him apart to actually do it -- he has to verify that Es signed up for this several times (which they did), and it still takes a lot of resolve to follow through with hurting an innocent kid like that. I imagine that's one of the reasons he's not really upset that Kotoko surprised everyone by intervening: he felt so guilty about the attack and was grateful someone came in to stop it.

Although it wasn't physical pain, Mahiru is also really upset that she brought Es such emotional strain. She thinks it's cruel to fool them into feeling bad for her when she's okay, and it takes a lot of reassurance from the others to convince her it's for the sake of the experiment -- every part of the process has toyed with everyone's emotions, she's not a terrible person for doing so.

Whether in the middle of the trial or the final executions, I think any characters who die next trial will also feel awful for making Es mourn for them when they're still alive. It's not all one-sided guilt, though. It's balanced by anger/sorrow towards Es for condemning them to death in the first place because of their decisions. Any time they get too caught up in thinking "I'm so cruel for tricking them like this," they have a moment of "well, they did specifically order my death, so..."

When I'm looking for a pure fix-it, I'll let those emotions go pretty easily <3 But unfortunately my writer ass is never free from The Themes asdfsdf and sometimes I still get caught up in the project's major focus -- not only is Es facing the original Milgram dilemma of choosing whether or not to follow authority, but now the prisoners are faced with the exact same decision. Do they physically/mentally hurt this child "for the experiment?" Because someone in authority told them to? They're doing this to prove a point about justice and fairness, but where should they draw the line? At what point is it not for the greater good and they are just causing more harm?

I think I mentioned it before but in this au the prisoners are extremely motivated by the promise that this experiment will help others like them. Yuno wants to make a statement about society's views on abortion and sex work. Muu wants to make a difference for bullying victims. Kazui hopes to be a voice for all those who have had to keep theirs quiet about something. Mikoto hopes his story creates more awareness and acceptance for people who are usually terribly stereotyped and feared. Kotoko wants to bring to light the problem of corruption and what can be done about it, and so on. In the end, they can always justify causing a little emotional/physical harm because they are doing it for a good reason.

[huccimermaidshirts]

.

[hauntingofhouses]

i didn't liveblog episodes 8-10 + bonus epilogue cuz i was lazy <3

but anyway here are my thoughts on those final episodes + the overall season:

i forgot how much i hated jaune's voice so i FELT THAT when jaune said "WAS THIS WHAT I ALWAYS SOUNDED LIKE" i felt that. i felt that deep in my bones. crwby bring back dilf jaune NEOWWW

im so intrigued by the whole blacksmith/tree lady/person/thing and all the lore we got about the two brothers and their experiments in the ever after before they moved on to create remnant. where are they now? off in some other realm messing shit up? calling themselves "gods" but theyre the most messy characters in the whole show i swear

loved the whole ruby finding herself sequence

i never cared much for neo or torchwick before but v9 made me actually find them interesting. neo's whole castle in the ever after was cool and i love how a crazy realm like the ever after works to somehow amplify neo's overactive imagination semblance

the way weiss was into jaune had me lowkey shipping them idk i just find it funny. but again they shouldve kept jaune as a dilf <- biased dilf-liker

even though i didn't like the mouse named little, i could appreciate his role in the story by the end, especially in regards to the relationship with ruby, considering he seems to symbolise the more naive and optimistic version of ruby from earlier seasons. also me finding little annoying tracks considering i also did use to find ruby annoying as well (SUE ME but dont worry i dont think so anymore and i like where ruby's character is at now)

the ending was really sweet with all of them returning to remnant hand-in-hand

i loved the bonus epilogue ending and it's sad it got cut due to all the constraints the show's faced but i hope we will get to see something like what was shown pan out in v10. also the epilogue gave me MUCH needed qrow content cuz i've missed my stupid bird man. i love that he cried at seeing the mural of ruby, but i wish they would acknowledge that yang is ALSO his niece yknow??

the mention of vacuo's "history of colonisation" is very interesting to me and i cannot wait to see more of this setting!

seemingly no development was made this volume in regards to how to beat salem and nothing is even hinted about that in the epilogue either so im really just wondering how the gang's gonna pull this off. i do understand that this volume was a much needed moment of respite for the characters tho, and appreciate all the development we got in that department

CONCLUSION:

it was fun and i can't wait for v10!! hopefully i'll remember everything that happened so far by the time it releases LMFAO. also it really cemented my love for nuts&dolts AKA tragic doomed yuri but on the bright side bumbleby is alive and thriving ❤️

rwby volume 9 liveblog

thanks to @kkglinka i am watching rwby again. i just finished rewatching previous episodes as a refresher, and man i realise i slipped up when i mentioned my fav character was salem lmfao i was thinking of CINDER. girl is such a bitch i love her.

but anyway. new volume. here we go.

starting with episode 1 ruby finds a talking mouse and the tone from the season finale of v8 has drastically shifted LMFAO.

we then cut to blake and weiss who've found each other but no sign of yang. then immediately have some antics with a whole rat pack who ambush the two.

okay now ruby's here and the three of them reunite. yay! not a very happy reunion, theyre all more confused and unsettled than anything and i cant blame them. im confused as hail too.

OKAY new monster??? doesn't look like a typical grimm and it talks, seemingly narrating what it does. i love the vibe, very creepy, love that.

AND YANG!!!!

omg i'm lowkey disappointed that blake's first reaction upon the monster running off isn't to jump into yang's arms. like girl talk about a delayed reaction but fine okay she's just being cautious making sure the monster is thoroughly chased away.

THEN GF HUG!!!!! i love them. i miss them a lot. feeling lots of feelings

but then okay plot and weiss revealing everything that happened after they fell since she was the last one of them who fell down the bridge.

AND UGHHH RUBY'S REACTION TO PENNY 😭😭😭 my nuts&dolts heart 😭😭😭 why must they keep HURTING me this way

okay and blake mentions her gut feeling again. THEYRE IN A FAIRY TALE !!!!!

okay the new opening reveal slaps and looks like neo is gonna be a very prominent character this season. jaune will be showing up soon too no doubt, and a mysterious silhouette. and then OH allusions to alice in wonderland? the girl is alice? she's brown? i'm here for this.

aight bring on episode 2 baybey