#face the fucking consequences from the people you've abused AND the people that love them

[deadboyswalking]

'Giri back and all you bitches FUCKED

[atopvisenyashill]

Can you talk more about your theory of Jaehaerys and Alyssa? You've mentioned Alyssa a few times, saying you didn't like how everyone talked about her, but I couldn't find a post going into detail about it.

oh yeah, i think like with his kids, jaehaerys is doing some hardcore editorializing when it comes to his mother’s legacy. i think the sources we have purposefully play down her influence and intelligence because depicting her as she was, which is a competent leader, a loving mother, and a shrewd politician, makes jaehaerys look really bad for vindictively stranding her in a shitty abusive marriage. so like, as an example, septon barth (who i usually love!! most of jaehaerys' good ideas come from barth or aly, it's THEM that was the Good, Peaceful King not jae!!) has this to say about alyssa:

“That Queen Alyssa wished to do the right thing, no man should doubt,” Septon Barth wrote years later. “Sad to say, however, she oft seemed at a loss as to what that thing might be. She desired above all to be loved, admired, and praised, a yearning she shared with King Aenys, her first husband. A ruler must sometimes do things that are necessary but unpopular, however, though he knows that opprobrium and censure must surely follow. These things Queen Alyssa could seldom bring herself to do.”

What's angering here is this is just false. Alyssa is not someone who is paralyzed by people pleasing; in fact, some of her biggest moments come from Alyssa taking decisive action and being willing to face the consequences! As a matter of fact, the exact issue she's having right at this moment when Gyldayn throws this in is Alyssa taking an action she knows is unpopular but sticking to her guns anyway!! She's confronted with her not even legal son making off in the night with her not even legal daughter and marrying, and last time this happened, her husband died from stress, her two oldest got stuck under siege for months, all of which culminated in a bloody civil war that got two more of her kids killed. OF COURSE she tries to stop it - she's doing the unpopular thing she thinks is right! And then, when Rogar tries to supplant Jaehaerys with one of her grandchildren and publicly humiliates her, she tells him to fuck all the way off and saves her son's throne yet a-fucking-gain. Oh so she didn't bother running tail tucked between her legs to her teenage son to apologize for getting angry at him for eloping with his barely pubescent sister? That's not a moral failing, that's a moral backbone.

And this is a pattern with Alyssa Velaryon. She attempts to help crown Aegon while still captive with Maegor, she plays along at court to try to protect her other children, she makes the difficult decision to abandon poor Viserys in King's Landing for the chance to escape to safety with the children she has on hand - which OBJECTIVELY is the only goddamn reason Jaehaerys is alive, because if Maegor had gotten his hands on another of Aenys' sons, he absolutely would have tortured him to death just like Viserys - she doesn't publicly contradict Jaehaerys to protect his claim, she refills the King's Guard in a smart move by giving people a fun little tourney to impress the royal family with, and when caught between Rogar and Jaehaerys, she sides with Jaehaerys every single time! Yes, she doesn't go to Dragonstone to get Jaehaerys after he marries Alysanne because Rogar tells her not to. But why does Rogar tell her not to? He plays on her fear of people seeing Jaehaerys as another Aenys! But does she let that stop her from trying to contact her son? NO! She sends ladies to him so she knows what the fuck is going on and so she's not publicly shit talking him. She sacrifices her marriage to protect Jaehaerys! And before the depression of having lost everything even though she's done everything she's supposed to do takes over her, she makes sure to get a competent Hand in that position!

But how does Jaehaerys repay all those years of Alyssa doing her best to protect him, of Alyssa sacrificing her own happiness and well being for him?

Thus was the peace made between the young king and his former Hand, and sealed that night by a feast in the great hall, where Lord Rogar sat beside Queen Alyssa, man and wife once more, and raised a toast to the health of Queen Alysanne, pledging her his love and loyalty before all the assembled lords and ladies. Four days later, when Lord Rogar departed to return to Storm’s End, Queen Alyssa went with him, escorted by Ser Pate the Woodcock and a hundred men-at-arms to see them safe through the kingswood.

He forces her away from court, to the seat of the husband that hates her, to die having his children. We know Alyssa is unhealthy during this time. We know she's older. We know she never recovers from the depressive episode after Rogar attempts a coup. Yet she has two more children! Even after she says how afraid she is of childbirth before the first one because of her age and her previous baby loss!! Jaehaerys stands there and does nothing while Alyssa is butchered by the husband he stranded her with!!

And then what does Jaehaerys do? Well, he does the exact same goddamn thing to his own wife. He forces pregnancies she doesn't want on her, pregnancies that severely impact her health, and then like...doesn't even bother parenting the children he's forcing on his wife.

The joy was therefore not entirely unalloyed when Her Grace was found to be pregnant once again. Prince Valerion was born in 77 AC, after another troubled labor that saw Alysanne confined to her bed for half a year. Like his brother Gaemon four years earlier, he was a small and sickly babe, and never thrived. Half a dozen wet nurses came and went to no avail. In 78 AC, Valerion died, a fortnight short of his first nameday. The queen took his passing with resignation. “I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.”

He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

He says to the Grand Maester that essentially, he's totally cool with Alysanne being butchered during childbirth for the off chance that she has another healthy living child. This is the woman he's supposed to have a grand, amazing romance with and he treats her as disposable as he treats his own mother. So, in my opinion, just like how there's an underlying story here about a monstrous father who is likely raping At Least One of his kids and exerting severe and horrific sexual control of the rest of them, until he's dying and not a single one of his relatives even want to see him anymore, I think there's a story here about the ways in which sons will purposefully and vindictively harm their own mothers even when they have practical saints raising them.

He wants me gone, Catelyn thought wearily. Kings are not supposed to have mothers, it would seem, and I tell him things he does not want to hear.

[anyaharveyii]

"you were 15, not five". same with sirius, then. we don't even know exactly what sirius told to severus for him to go down there, but sirius KNEW precisely what was down there. sirius full knew and still sent him there. don't get shit twisted. unlike severus sirius fully knew he was sending someone else to their potential death and didn't give a fuck. i'm sick of this victim blaming. severus didn't deserve that shit and sirius acted like a psychotic little freak that wasn't even sorry he risked his own friend's integrity for a joke.

(for anyone who wants to join the conversation, we're talking about the marauders and the infamous prank. the anon is team severus, and I am decidedly not).

sweetie, there's no need to post this anonymously.

I hope you reveal yourself eventually, because I genuinely love talking about this with people. I somewhat agree with you, so let's dissect.

"same with sirius, then." — too true. there's actually so many parallels between sirius and snape that I'm convinced they could've been best friends in another life. they both came from backgrounds of hatred and abuse, and as a result, they both deeply cling to and value the friendships they made early on in their lives (with james and lily respectively). finally, they both shoot to kill when they're mad. I 100% agree that sirius was wrong for what he did to remus—who is the true victim in this situation, let's be real. "we don't even know exactly what sirius told to severus for him to go down there, but sirius KNEW precisely what was down there." — so did snape, though. in the deathly hallows (ch. 33), he outright says to lily that he suspects remus is a werewolf before the prank ever happens. he only went down to the whomping willow to confirm his suspicions. also, according to remus in the prisoner of azkaban (ch. 18) snape had been following them around and trying to expose remus for even longer than just the one night. chances are, snape would've snuck down there eventually, and sirius just sped up the process (which, I agree, was still very wrong of him). "sirius full knew and still sent him there." — I think you meant 'fully' knew. and as I just said above, so did snape.

"don't get shit twisted." — I actually think I have my facts pretty straight, which is why I wish you would've had the bravery to post this not anonymously. I'm curious as to what you think I've said so far that is incorrect (especially since I do back up most of my claims with evidence directly from the books).

"unlike severus sirius fully knew he was sending someone else to their potential death and didn't give a fuck." — this is the third time you've argued this point, and it's getting slightly redundant ... but I'll bite. sending someone to their death means not giving them a choice (an example would be a monarch who orders that someone be executed). sirius was wrong for telling snape how to get into the whomping willow (prisoner of Azkaban ch. 18) but he didn't hold a gun to his head and say "you must go poke your nose where it doesn't belong, you don't have a choice." snape was old enough to make his own decisions, and he still chose to go, despite suspecting that remus was a werewolf.

"i'm sick of this victim blaming." — because of all the points I've made so far, I think it's fair to say that sirius and snape are not victims in this situation. remus is the only true victim of that prank.

"severus didn't deserve that shit and sirius acted like a psychotic little freak that wasn't even sorry he risked his own friend's integrity for a joke." — severus faced something we like to call the consequences of his own actions. if you see a sign on the road that says "STOP! CLIFF AHEAD" and you drive forward and off the cliff anyway, you have no one to blame but yourself.

I feel the need to remind you that at the end of the day, these are all fictional characters and fictional scenarios. by saying things like how you're "sick of this victim blaming" and "severus didn't deserve that shit", I can tell that you deeply empathise with severus snape's character.

truly (this part isn't sarcastic), if you (the anonymous poster) feel like life has made you a victim or a punching bag—which is the only rational reason I can think of for why you would have all this anger—then I hope you recieve the empathy and the therapy you need. you seem like someone who has been very hurt and lashes out at the world in response, so I'm sorry for whatever you've been through (if you've been through anything).

if you're just really passionate about fictional characters and the harry potter series in general, great! I am too. so come out of hiding (aka stop being a coward), and we can fangirl over it together :)

[secularprolifeconspectus]

I'm adopted, because my "mother" was convinced to not abort me, and people like you genuinely scare the fuck out of me.

I was abused in the foster system, I was abused by my adoptive parents, and I was abandoned by my birth parents.

You people allow kids to be born to parents, families, and communities that don't want them. Children who aren't wanted are abused at every turn. You're literally advocating for suffering. Try to imagine what it's like to grow up without love. That's what you're advocating for.

I have the comfort of knowing I can have an abortion if something goes wrong, if Im raped AGAIN. Knowing that my body wouldn't be ruined, my life wouldn't be ruined by someone else's choice. I'm not going to be a parent.

I hope you grow up. I hope you realize the consequences of your ideology. You're taking MY autonomy, I'm not a babymaker. You're forcing kids to grow up without love.

I'm glad I don't live in a country where people take your ideology seriously.

My heart aches that you've suffered so much. That's really sad and I'm sorry you've been through so much, sincerely.

I'm glad you are here. I'm glad you are alive. I'm glad your mother protected you from being murdered. Because abortion doesn't merely prevent a person from coming into being; it kills someone who is real and alive and actually a full person. You may not agree, but it's on you to prove why preborn humans are the exception to the rule that all living human organisms are people.

My friend Braedon was sexually abused in the foster system, and he is ardently pro-life. He knows he is better off alive than dead, and I have other friends who feel the same. I even dated a pro-life communist whose mother was murdered and he was put into child slavery on a farm in foster care, and yet he STILL is pro-life. I definitely don't speak for anyone who has been through foster care, but you certainly don't speak for all of them.

It's not necessary for Pro-Lifers to fix our broken social system before we can demand an end to baby murder, anymore than it was necessary for slave abolitionists to secure reparation before they could demand freedom for Black people. You sound an awful lot like Thomas Jefferson justifying why slaves shouldn't be free when you insist babies shouldn't be alive... we must come together as a SOCIETY and a CULTURE to solve these problems, because exterminating people is NEVER the solution.

I know many people think it is more cruel to place a child in our current foster care and adoption systems than to murder a baby, but without their impetus and as long as abortion is the “simpler option”, the system may never see improvements. The less often that parents choose to carry unexpected pregnancies, the less visible they are, the more shame they face for not choosing the “simple” option, and the less accessible crisis family resources become. Cultural pressure to abort is increased, and cultural coercion is unacceptable.

That being said, I think adoption should be avoided whenever possible, and we should prioritize family preservation. I also think the kinship care model of fostering may solve a lot of the problems with our current system. Ultimately, the foster system is an extension of the police, which I believe should be abolished, and the adoption industry is just as coercive and predatory as the abortion industry.

I also want to challenge your assertion that all unwanted pregnancies lead to unloved children, and that all abortion-minded people become abusive parents. According to the pro-choice Turnaway Study, this simply isn't true: five years after being denied an abortion, 96% of participants didn't regret having their babies. It seems that over time, even parents who didn't initially want to be pregnant came to want, love, and feel deeply attached to their children. And most chose to parent their children.

I'm sorry this wasn't the case for you, you didn't deserve to be abandoned and abused.

If you're terrified of becoming pregnant and you don't want to be a parent, seriously, maybe get sterilized? If you oppose abortion except for in cases of rape and life of the mother, then you have more in common with pro-lifers than pro-choicers. You can be pro-life and advocate for a rape exception. I don't agree with the rape exception morally, but I think it's an acceptable compromise. If you think pregnancy ruins your body (which is INCREDIBLY misogynistic and patriarchal, like what the actual fuck,) then you've fallen for the propaganda pathologizing female fertility. Sorry to break it to you.

I don't think a child would ruin your life. But don't take my word for it, hear it from someone who aborted after rape. Believe it or not, 50% of women who conceive in rape keep their babies and love them. Ayala conceived in rape and loved her baby deeply, as did my friend Avie. I'm not taking your autonomy by insisting you should not be allowed to kill preborn people with impunity. I'm advocating against a mass human rights violation.

You should see the victims of YOUR ideology.

If you don't live in the US, kindly fuck off. You don't have a clue how extremist the US is when it comes to abortion. We literally allow abortion up until the baby begins to exit the vaginal canal for any reason. The only restriction we have is that you may not pull an infant's legs out of their mom's vagina to kill them by sucking out their brain from the back of their neck with a vacuum. That's literally the only kind of pregnancy termination that is banned.

Also, may I recommend some therapy? Your projection makes you come off as traumatized, which I know you are after all you've been through. When you grow up, I hope you heal. Get well soon.

[tarabyte3]

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 2/? (9.9k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

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, fear of abandonment

A/N: I am having more fun than I probably should be writing this fic. New minor warning in the tags, but note that the troubled mother/daughter relationship and emotionally abusive mother tags are more prominent in this chapter!

Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from "Go to the Limits of Your Longing" by Rainer Maria Rilke. Text divider 1 is from William Blake's Pity. Text divider 2 is from Hans Melming's Earthly Vanity and Divine Salvation. Collage quote is from NBC's Hannibal (2013).

Chapter 2 - Let everything happen to you: Beauty and terror

You spend the rest of the day, and the next day after calling into work, pacing a circle in your living room and thinking about all the things he said to you—about you.

First and foremost: What would you do if you quit and ran?

Move? Get another office job?

No. Absolutely not. That's what the shitty voice in your head that sounds like your mother says you should do. But what do you want to do?

You can't remember the last time you really wanted anything. God, have you really become so miserable? You hadn't even noticed. You thought you were fine. Maybe your life hasn't turned out the way you'd expected, but it isn't horrible and you get by. Now, standing on the outside of yourself and looking in, you realize the only real joy you've had in years is insulting men on the internet. While you sit in your panties.

So what do you want?

You wanted to go to art school when you were younger, but your mother had put an end to that dream when you told her.

"Very few artists ever make it big or earn a living for themselves," she'd said, "and you aren't talented enough to be one of them."

So you'd gotten a business degree at university instead and hated every moment of it. For a salary that isn't even that impressive, especially for living in London. All so you could work for entitled, boring men that make inappropriate comments, take passes at all the women, and never face any consequences for it because it's a good ol' boys' club. Bunch of pricks. You hope that place burns. In fact, you're going to walk in and quit tomorrow. And it's going to feel so fucking good.

Unfortunately, you also stopped painting. After your own mother's repeated dismissal of your eighteen-year-old self's dreams and passion, whenever you picked up a paintbrush or a pencil, you felt horrible. Nothing you painted felt right again. Your confidence was gone. That spark. So now you don't even own any art supplies. You don't like the reminder.

You do still go to art museums and galleries and shows in the city, though. Walking through them as a child is what made you fall in love with it in the first place. She may have taken away your desire to create any yourself, but she could never destroy that love, try as she may. 

Art has always been something you've connected with better than you ever have with people. It's effortless. Even parsing through the depths of the most complex and visually abstract piece is less complicated than trying to navigate personal relationships. Because art asks nothing more of you than what you are willing to give.

Maybe you could try painting again for fun. The second bedroom could be a studio now that you no longer need it for filming. And you could get a job at a gallery because that, at least, would be something you enjoy, and you wouldn't have to worry as much about the pay. Or—

You could go to art school.

The thought makes you stop pacing.

Loads of people go back to school later in life nowadays. Especially for the arts because, after years of experience out in the world, they realize they want to follow their dreams instead. You wouldn't even have to be successful, but you could be happy.

For once in your goddamned life, you could be fucking happy.

Because of him.

You go back to pacing.

Is that what he meant when he said he could offer you more than just money? He could give you the opportunity to finally live—though that circles back around to the money, too. It creates the opportunity, after all.

Except you know it was more than that. He was offering you the opportunity to be seen. Something you don't have because there's no one that knows the real you. Not really. They would think you were horrible. You know from experience.

Sometimes you think you're horrible.

But he saw you. Maybe not all of you, but a surprising amount from such a small glimpse. What would he see if he could look deeper?

Would he still want to look? Or would he eventually be repulsed, too?

You go to stand in front of your laptop, which you keep powered down and closed now. You also unplugged your webcam, closed your blinds, and put little pieces of tape over both of your phone's cameras because you're convinced that's how he knew every time you were ready to block him. He was watching.

You don't think it can stop him from finding some way to keep tabs on you, but it'll slow him down. You wonder if that will amuse him or annoy him. Probably amuse him.

And why the fuck do you care? Why are you thinking about him at all? You don't even know who he is. Plus, he blackmailed and threatened you, for fuck's sake! You should be phoning the police! At the very least, you should never think about him again.

But you do. You think about him a lot. Because he could be almost anyone behind that anonymity, and the mystery and possibility are…interesting.

He clearly has money. He's smart and irritatingly perceptive. 'Don't forget he has a talent with technology apparently,' you think wryly—which is a massive understatement. He has to be some kind of tech guy, right? Who else can hack into all of your personal devices, track down phone numbers and addresses, uncover your passwords—which you've now changed as well, and poke around your bank records? So through the most basic deduction, you know that much at least.

But is he attractive? Funny? How old is he? Does he have hobbies that aren't stalking you? And can he carry on a conversation when he isn't hiding behind a screen? God, if he turned out to be just like other men and you had to listen to him prattle on, you might give up and join a convent for the vow of celibacy alone.

And, though you shouldn't even be having this thought, you can't help but wonder if he's good in bed. Would he get you off, or does he last thirty seconds and then roll over and fall asleep? You think that's a fair thing to be particular about. You're not about to waste your time only to never have an orgasm. You've done that plenty of times in your life already.

You should be worried that he's a serial killer and you're his next victim or that he's planning to keep you chained up in his basement or sell your organs on the black market. But if he wanted to do that, you'd already be dead because he's been watching you for months and you hadn't a clue. He's had plenty of opportunities.

Unless this is part of a game. 

You could always find out. He told you the link would stay active. You aren't sure if you want to click on it again, but you don't not want to.

No. It's too soon. Before you make any decisions, you should get your affairs in order because you have a former life to wrap up first. And you should give yourself time to process. To work through the fear, the anger, the curiosity, and, most of all, why it aroused you. Not just physically, you acknowledge, but mentally as well. There was something in your verbal sparring that appealed to you as much as it appealed to him. 

You want to know why. You want to understand the part of yourself that feels almost neglected now. Withered from disuse—from hiding behind the lie, as he might put it. And you can't face him again until you do because going back to him with your eyes wide open feels important. There can be no half measures.

What if you dive in and realize you've made a terrible mistake? That seems far more complicated than just walking away now while you have the chance. So if you click that link again, you want to be sure.

Then why do you keep finding yourself standing in your spare room and staring at your computer?

You close your camgirl account without any warning or final stream. Once you realize you never have to do it again, the thought of doing it even one last time is nauseating. There aren't many hoops to jump through, which surprises you. And hitting that confirmation button feels so amazing, you almost text the mystery number to say thank you. Almost.

Unfortunately, the month isn't even half over yet so you're immediately flooded with refund requests. They paid for a full month, after all. You roll your eyes as your phone starts vibrating with email notifications. Too bad for them that you read through the terms and service and know the website's refund policy. So you take one last pleasure in hitting decline on every single one.

You also quit your day job.

You walk in two days after your experience with the mystery man—late, holding a takeout coffee, and wearing jeans and sunglasses—and hand your notice to your boss. He uncomfortably asks why you're leaving the company, and you smile and tell him you found a different opportunity. When he asks where, you take more pleasure in declining to answer and taking a noisy sip from your cup. 

You plan to spend the rest of your time there doing absolutely nothing except scrolling through your phone or looking up art schools on your work computer. Hopefully they'll tell you that you don't have to finish up your two weeks just to get you to leave. You could've simply walked out without giving them notice at all if you really wanted. But after a single day of watching your boss squirm as he tries to figure out how to handle you, you know you made the right decision.

Now you need to make a few more.

You also learn something about yourself. You learn the thing that's been missing and why you enjoyed being so openly cruel on camera. You have been hiding behind a lie.

More specifically, you've been denying a simple truth to them and to yourself: You're better than all of them, and you take extraordinary pleasure in reminding them.

It feels good to finally be yourself. To stop pretending to care about all of the bullshit you've never cared about. Office politics, your so-called friends' newest drama, news that someone is getting married or having children, the latest show people are watching, sports, the weather, or the endless updates about small changes in people's lives. God, last week your coworker got a new car and would not shut up about all of the features. Oh, does it connect to Bluetooth, Sharon? Can you make phone calls from your steering wheel? How fascinating, please tell me more about how difficult it was to choose between a slate grey or tan interior, I'm sure I still have some will to live tucked away that you haven't drained yet.

Up until now, you've made yourself small. Palatable. You pretended to be normal. To want some of the same things everyone else wants so you fit in because you could hear your mother's voice in your head saying, "What would people think?" You bit your tongue so you didn't tell them to please just shut up. So when you finally got the chance to be honest on stream, you relished it.

Because before you were afraid that if you gave in to your darker impulses, you would take it too far. That it would turn you into a monster. You realize now they're the ones that are afraid. They can't wait to tear a woman down. To insult her, call her names, or to degrade her in hopes that will allow them to keep power over her. You were only worried about becoming a monster because you were told it was monstrous to be yourself. To know what you want and to take it. Especially when it's something you shouldn't want in the first place. Something improper.

Well, you're finally starting to figure out exactly what you want.

That evening after work, you sit in front of your laptop.

You haven't opened it yet. You're just sitting there, contemplating doing so because you want to know how it feels to consider taking the next step. If even doing that feels wrong, then you have an answer. That would make your decision easy.

But it doesn't. You reach out to rest your hand on top of the lid and have to stop yourself from opening it. One step at a time. To be sure.

You do that several more times throughout the evening before giving up.

You wake the next morning almost two hours before your alarm—because you had planned on sleeping in since you no longer care if you're late for work—and head straight to the other room. You slept like shit. All night you tossed and turned and fought getting up to pace more circles or to stare at your computer. Because you wanted to see how it felt to go further.

You frantically wrench open your laptop, desperate to finally know, and then you're staring at the black screen. There are smudge marks and some dust visible on it in the morning light filtering through your window. They mar your reflection as it peers, manic and disheveled, back out at you.

It still doesn't feel wrong.

How far can you go before it does? You press the power button.

It takes forever to boot up. Or at least it seems as if it does because your computer isn't that old. You're reminded of how it felt the last time you did this. How your heart had pounded out of fear. It's pounding now, but out of anticipation and impatience. When the login screen finally pops up, you have to retype your password because you hit the keys too quickly and make a mistake.

The sight of your desktop is a relief first because at last you'll have more of an answer to sit with. Then you feel…nothing. Well, no, not nothing. Just an absence of the fear and revulsion you had been looking for. There is definitely something there—nameless and building in your stomach, and crawling its way into your chest.

You move the mouse pointer around the screen. Out of habit, you open Instagram. You manage to scroll for about thirty seconds before you sigh in disgust and take the steps to fully delete your account. Then you go through the rest of your social media and delete or deactivate all of those as well. There isn't a single thing on any of them you care about enough to save. It's freeing in a way you hadn't expected.

You find yourself moving to open your inbox before you finally tell yourself no, that's plenty far for now. You've pushed this enough for one go. Besides, it's six thirty in the morning. You don't even know if he's awake, and you still have work—as much as you don't care about that part. It puts an expiration on doing it now and you don't want to feel rushed.

Instead you get up, go take a long shower where you sing to yourself for the first time in years, and take your time getting ready. You're going to wear a low cut top and a high slit skirt today, which are against the dress code like the jeans were, just to really get under their skin.

You leave your computer on and open. You also plug your webcam back in. You know it's going to send a message, and you want him thinking about what that could be.

Day two of work is just as satisfying as day one. More so because so many of them are flustered by a bit of cleavage and thigh. As if they've never seen either before. You briefly imagine wearing a high collared Victorian dress and scandalously baring your ankle while they gasp and clutch at their chests.

They still don't say anything, but you catch your boss and a few of the other various managers watching you resentfully from across the open floor over the half walls of the cubicles—you didn't even have a full cubicle for an office. How depressing is that? You give them a little wave and a wink back, and it sends them scurrying off.

On your way home, you get a takeout because you think you've earned a curry, and you grab a beer from your fridge. Then you kick off your heels and flop onto the couch. You don't turn on the TV because there's nothing that will entertain you as much as reminiscing about the last few days.

Well. Almost nothing.

You set the half empty takeout container down on your coffee table, the distraction and enjoyment of it suddenly gone. Because now you're thinking about him and your laptop again. You know it's still turned on in the other room, not twenty feet from you. All you would have to do is go in there, open your email, and click the link. It would be that simple.

You made sure it was that simple this morning, you realize.

You get up from the couch, but instead of heading to the spare room, you go to the bathroom. Then you examine yourself in the mirror to make sure you don't have curry stains on your lips or chin. Your makeup is still fine because, well, you did basically nothing at work all day so there's no need to mess with it. Plus, if you have a fresh face of makeup, he'll know you touched it up beforehand. For him. And you can't have that.

You have your hair pinned up, though, so you take that down for something more casual and less office professional. You also undo the top button on your already low dipped blouse. If you move a certain way or lean forward too far, the cup of your bra is visible. It's a wine color that stands out against the champagne of your shirt. You hope it'll be enough of a distraction to throw him off, even for a moment.

Once you're satisfied with your appearance, you make your way to the bedroom. But before you sit down, you toss the annoying, frilly pillows off the bed and into the hallway—you have to resist tossing them out the window—and you throw the blanket on there instead. It looks less ridiculous that way and more like an actual bed someone might sleep in. It also helps you feel like you're truly moving on from that chapter of your life.

Finally, you're in front of your computer. You've been looking forward to this part all day because it's a crucial step. If you can do this and still be okay, you know you're ready.

It takes one click to pull up your inbox.

You pause and wait for some kind of revelation or sign, but none come. There's only the same eager curiosity you've been struck with the past few days. The familiar anticipation of knowing. You want to sit with it a minute, just in case it takes a bit to creep up on you. So you clear out the spam and gleefully deny a few more refund requests in your second account first to tidy everything up. Then, with nothing left to distract you and no more excuses to put it off, you open the email.

The address it was sent from is a random series of letters and numbers. You hadn't noticed that before, you only wanted to know what the message said. You wonder if it's even a real email address. Whether he took the time to make it, carefully crafting each step as he set the snare for his trap. And here you are, stepping right back into it—assuming you had escaped it at all.

The link stares back at you.

You hover over it, only to find that you're nervous. How can you be nervous? You weren't even nervous the first time. Scared and angry, yes, but not this. This is something else. But is it enough to stop?

Absolutely not.

What's wrong with you? Why are you second-guessing yourself now? You want this. At the very least, you want to know more. So why deny yourself? You said you were done doing that. No more letting other people's standards and expectations control you. You take what you want. Who cares why?

'Because he did see you, that's why,' your mind supplies before you can stop it. That flutter in your stomach returns. With a strange rush of confidence, and before you can second guess yourself again, you click the link.

When the site loads, you half expect him to already be there. But he isn't. So you sit there, alone in the chatroom, staring at your own face. After a few moments, you check—and recheck—your hair and makeup. Then you berate yourself for fretting. You're better than this, even though you know your appearance is one of the few weapons in your arsenal that you can use against him.

Eleven minutes pass. Each one feels longer than the last. You want to get up and pace some more to let off your nervous energy, but you don't want him to show up and see you panicking. It would start this whole thing off on the wrong foot. Namely, with you at a disadvantage.

Just when you start to think you've made a mistake and a complete fool of yourself because he's not going to even show up, that black square appears in the corner with an electronic chime.

You stare at it, wide-eyed.

You hadn't really thought past this part. You were too focused on simply preparing yourself to click the link. Now you aren't sure what to say. So you wait again, only to be accompanied by silence. The chat box sits empty.

He's waiting for you, you realize.

No. He's trying to force you to give in and speak first so he has the upper hand.

So, he likes to be in control, then. Makes sense, given how all of this started in the first place. Now the only question is how in control he likes to be. Because the thought isn't necessarily unappealing.

"Hello," you finally say quietly.

I wasn't expecting you back so soon.

You can feel his smirk through the text. Oh right, he's infuriating. You scowl at your screen. "First message and you're already making me regret this."

Come now, I think I'm allowed to savor an I told you so, given the circumstances.

"Yep, this was a mistake." You move to grab your mouse and close the window.

I can make it up to you.

That makes you stop.

"And how are you going to do that?" You ask with suspicion.

Ask me a question.

"Any question?" You lean forward and rest your folded arms on the desk, intrigued and not bothering to hide it. That's why you're here, after all. To learn more about him. You can see your bra peeking out on the screen, and you hope now he's feeling something other than smug.

Within reason.

"Aha, there's the catch. Can't have me getting too clever, can you?" You tap your finger on the edge of your keyboard as you consider what you want to ask. You know he won't do something like turn on his camera or show you his face, and most of your other questions about him will require more trust first. So what will he give you?

"What's your name? It seems only fair I know that at the very least since you know so much about me."

Interesting question.

My name is David.

"David?" You repeat out loud, surprised.

Yes.

"Hmm. I wasn't expecting David."

What were you expecting?

"I don't know. Something unbearable like Reginald or Bertram. David is so…" You wave your hand in the air as you search for the word.

So what?

"Unassuming." You tilt your head. "Are you unassuming, David? Someone that everyone looks at, but no one ever sees?"

See, you are very clever.

"It's one of my better qualities, David."

I enjoy hearing my name on your lips.

"Oh, do you?" You cock an eyebrow.

If I were there with you, I would like to see what else I might enjoy from your lips.

You surprise yourself by blushing.

Clearly you might enjoy it, too.

"Is this how you think you're going to win me over? Saying filthy things to me? Because I can get back onto my stream for that." You try to sound unimpressed rather than flustered.

Not at all. Saying filthy things to you is just a bonus. Especially when you blush so nicely for me.

"You caught me off guard, that's all."

I'm sure. Not that I want to seem ungrateful, but why are you here?

"Well, my life didn't implode, which means you kept your word."

I did.

"Not that it would have mattered anyway because I quit both of my jobs, deleted all of my social media accounts, and, frankly, I realized I don't give a shit what my mother thinks." In a lower voice you add, "In fact, you might actually be doing me a favor there." 

Did it feel good?

"It really did." You want to groan and relish in it because you've never felt this free before. It was marvelous. You just don't want to do so in front of him.

I'm glad. Do you trust me now?

"Absolutely not," you laugh. "But I suppose I'm…"

I intrigue you.

"I wouldn't go that far, but you have my attention. Now I want to figure you out."

Not because of the money?

You bite the inside of your lip as you consider how to respond. "I thought about that a lot, actually. And the answer is no, not because of the money. If it had been a factor in my decision at all, I wouldn't be here."

So you're here to satisfy your curiosity.

"Among other things." You give the camera a heavy lidded glance.

Sounds promising.

Will you leave when you're satisfied?

"I suppose that depends on how satisfied I am." A coy grin tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Then maybe I shouldn't satisfy you at all.

"Oh no, you'll definitely want to avoid doing that. Or else I might get bored and leave anyway."

Ah. We can't have that, now, can we?

"No we cannot." Then you grimace and ask, "You don't talk about things like sports or politics by way of conversation, do you?"

No.

"No interest in keeping up with the lives of acquaintances or the royal family?"

No.

"Thank god," you sigh in relief. "I'm done politely listening to people blather on so that would have been a deal breaker."

Lucky for me, then.

You really have had an exciting few days. I must say, this new confidence suits you. You look lovely.

"Thank you." You let out a genuine smile. "I feel like I can breathe for the first time in…well, a while. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

You do, but I must admit it was not a selfless act. I wanted to see you like this and I am enjoying the fruits of my labor.

"Only like this?" You intend for it to sound teasing, but anticipation bleeds into your voice. 

For now.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest. "Can I ask you more questions?"

Of course. As long as you understand I may not answer them yet.

"That's fine." You shrug. "What you choose not to answer will be telling enough."

Very clever girl.

"Okay, next question," you blurt out to avoid blushing again, only to realize you didn't have a question ready. So you ask the first thing that comes to mind. "Are you rich?"

Yes.

"Yeah, that one seemed fairly obvious." You glance up at the camera. "How rich?"

I thought you weren't here because of the money.

"I'm not! I'm simply curious. And just because I don't care about it doesn't mean it's not a part of who you are."

Be honest. You're a little bit interested in the money.

"Fine," you say begrudgingly. "It's on the list of perks, but it's at the end. It wasn't a factor in why I'm here, and it won't affect how this turns out. How's that?"

Better. You know I enjoy your honesty.

So what's at the top of the list?

"Well, it was whether or not you would eventually bore me to death, but that doesn't seem to be a pressing concern."

I'll take that as a compliment.

What about now?

"I suppose now it's figuring out what you look like. Though I should be asking whether or not you're a dangerous man since you stalked and blackmailed me."

Now there's a question.

Well, go on. Ask me.

"Alright," you laugh. "Are you a dangerous man, David?"

Yes.

You blink in surprise because you weren't expecting him to just say yes. "How so?"

Where's the fun in that? I thought you were going to figure me out.

"It was worth a shot," you mumble to yourself. You adjust in your seat as you think of how to rephrase the question. "Are you dangerous to me?"

There's no response for several, very long, concerning seconds.

Would you like me to be?

You blush again, your face growing warm as it creeps over your cheeks. "I can't answer that."

Why not?

"Because I don't know what dangerous means."

Then I guess you'll have to find that out, too, won't you?

"It might be a little difficult when you're just text on a screen."

I don't have to be.

"Does that mean you'll turn your camera on?" You perk up in your chair.

No.

"What about your microphone?" You add hopefully.

Not yet.

You sag back into your chair, disappointed, but not surprised. "Then we continue to be at an impasse, don't we, David?"

You're still saying my name.

"I'm getting used to it. Would you like me to stop?"

No.

You lean in towards the camera, pouting your lips, and let your eyelids go heavy as you stare into the lense. "Is it getting you hard, David?"

Don't do that.

"Do what?" You ask innocently.

Talk to me like I'm just some man watching your stream.

"I thought you might like it."

I don't. I only want to hear those things when you mean it.

"How do you know I don't mean it now?" You flutter your eyelashes.

Remember, I can hear the difference.

"Fine," you sigh, your expression and body language immediately returning to normal. "Then I don't know what else to do here."

Ask me another question.

"Alright." You tap your chin in thought. You know you need to regain some power here because so far you've been doing more reacting to him than you intended. How can you throw him off balance? "Have you ever touched yourself while watching any of my streams?"

No.

"I find that surprising," you say with a hint of skepticism.

Why's that?

"Because you went to all this trouble of stalking me and blackmailing me. I assumed that meant you really enjoyed my streams."

I did enjoy your streams.

"But not in the way most men do." The disbelief is still evident in your voice.

It wouldn't have been to you, would it have? It would have been to the lie and, therefore, not particularly satisfying.

"True. But I thought you saw me anyway."

Seeing past it and seeing you without your mask are two very different things.

"Okay. So you don't get off to me."

I didn't say that.

"Oh," you breathe out. As if this is a shock to you. But as he said, suspecting and seeing him confirm it are two very different things. "What do you think about when you do?" You purr as you lean in close again, suddenly very interested in his answer.

Do you really want to know?

"I'm curious, remember?"

I think about you when you were angry and begging.

You lick your lips before you can stop yourself.

Only on your knees for me.

Then you swallow hard. Because that paints a descriptive picture of what he likes. You can see it clearly, and you would be lying if you said there wasn't a responding swell of dampness in your panties at the thought of it.

"Are you touching yourself right now?"

Would you like me to be?

Would you? Is that something you want? Because it occurs to you that you could have it if you want it. You could have him sliding his fist around his erection and moaning for you if you so choose.

"Not really." You give a dismissive shrug, both for him and yourself. And it's not a lie. The thought is appealing and you think it's something you want eventually. But you aren't ready for it yet. Not until you know more about him first. After all, he could be anyone behind that screen. It's both a blessing and a curse. "I don't think you would anyway. Not yet."

Why not?

"Because if you did all of this just for a wank, that would be so very boring. And you aren't that, are you?"

No. I'm not.

But you had to think about it.

"I did," you admit. "When I don't have to think about it first, then I'll give you your show. And my answer will be much different."

I look forward to stripping you of your hesitation.

You notice the word play and give the camera a quick, amused smirk. "You'll be wanting to answer more questions for me then."

Ask.

"Speaking of shows. Do you make a habit of watching cam girls?"

No.

"So just occasionally, then?"

No.

You stare at his responses in confusion. "How did you find me if you weren't scrolling through the website?"

Call it luck.

"They used me in an ad, didn't they?" You scowl.

If I said yes, would that satisfy your curiosity?

"You know it wouldn't."

Then we'll stick with luck.

"Infuriating," you huff. "Will you at least tell me eventually?"

Someday. But not today.

"Alright," you relent. "Because I'll be honest, I really am terribly curious. And I want to know what it was that gave me away."

That second part I can answer.

The first stream I saw, you told your audience that they were lucky to even see you on camera because in person you would never give any of them the time of day. Then you took a deep breath. To everyone else it may have seemed like you were gasping in horror at your own words, but I saw the shudder. The roll of your shoulders. The pleasure. You weren't horrified, you were delighted. That was the moment you had my attention.

You remember that stream. You remember the exact feeling he's describing. How you fought to seem contrite afterwards and arched your breasts towards the camera in hopes no one noticed.

But he noticed. He was there.

"And what was the moment you decided you wanted me?" You whisper, unsure whether your microphone even picked it up.

When you did the same thing the next night.

I thought you were very attractive, of course, but you were never more attractive than in that moment of truth. I wanted more of it.

So I looked.

"You didn't just look. You watched me," you say accusingly.

I did.

"When I was vulnerable and didn't know I was being watched."

Yes.

"Doesn't that make you feel…bad?" You finish lamely. "Or guilty? Even a little?"

Do YOU feel bad now knowing that I did?

"I…" You trail off. You did feel awful in the beginning. It made you sick with fear. How could it not? But now? After the last few days—after talking to him—do you still feel bad? "I'm not sure."

Because I don't.

"You should."

And you should probably still be angry and afraid, yet here we are.

Annoyingly, he has a point there. So both of you are a little fucked up then.

"I have another question." You consider the camera. "Why didn't you just approach me or hit on me in the usual way? Why blackmail me to get my attention?"

You've already said yourself that you find the usual things boring.

"I didn't mean stalking!"

Didn't you? You like the attention, even if you only learned about it afterwards.

'He's right again,' you think. You do like knowing that he was looking. That you've finally been seen by someone that likes what they see. Someone that understands. Which also gives you the answer to his earlier question: You don't feel bad about it, either. Not anymore.

God, so maybe more than a little fucked up.

"Okay, maybe I do. But I think this is more than that. Perhaps you feel confident through the screen in a way you aren't in person."

That's a good guess.

"Am I right?"

No. I simply enjoyed doing it this way and watching you squirm.

"Asshole," you mutter. "It had a very high potential to blow up in your face."

I disagree.

"What if I didn't watch that video of myself? What if I'd just blocked you?"

I would have sent it from a different number with additional threats.

"And if I still refused? Would you have gone through with it?"

I knew I wouldn't have to.

"That," you cross your arms, "is not an answer."

And yet it's my answer. I knew you wouldn't deny me.

You scoff in disbelief. "Are you unaccustomed to hearing the word no?"

People say no to me all the time.

"You really don't like it, though, do you?"

No. Do you?

"Of course not," you laugh. And you're surprised to hear that it's genuine rather than sarcastic.

I can't imagine people telling you no very often.

You laugh a little harder. "You need a better imagination, then."

Even men?

"Well," the laughter trails off and you glance down at your desk, "I'd have to ask something of them first. I don't often. It's usually not worth it." You look back up. "You've told me no several times already."

For now.

There's a flush of heat in your belly that works its way between your legs and up to your neck. How does he keep doing that? No face. No voice. Yet somehow you keep ending up moments away from rubbing yourself against the seat of your chair.

"What about you? Do women tell you no, or are you so rich and handsome that they throw themselves at you?" You tease.

You wait, but there's no answer and you start to regret the question. You wonder if he's self-conscious about his looks and that's another reason he's doing this, or if you were right about his confidence when he isn't behind a screen.

"You don't have to answer that." You straighten up and your expression turns apologetic. "It was a clumsy attempt at flirting and to learn more about you."

No, they don't.

"Oh." You fidget uncomfortably for a moment. "If I'm being honest, that's actually a relief."

Why a relief?

"Because the type of men that would say yes to that question are usually intolerable. Besides," you shrug, "there are other important qualities to have that aren't looks. Like being intriguing, for example."

I can hear when you're lying.

"How am I lying?"

Looks are important to you.

"Of course they are. I never said they weren't! Only that there is more to attraction than just looks."

Would you still consider me if I were unattractive?

"Well." You stop to think about your response. You know you have to choose your words carefully in case this is a sensitive topic. "I can't promise anything because I don't know what you look like, but I will say if good looks were all I cared about, I would have an actual dating life."

I believe you.

"Does that mean you don't think you're attractive?" You tentatively ask.

Oh, I never said that. I just said women don't throw themselves at me. I'm far too busy.

"You…" You snap your mouth shut in anger. He was fucking with you. To see how you would react, and you actually felt bad for a moment! "God, you're infuriating."

You like it.

You do. There's a slick heat inside of your underwear that betrays exactly how much you like it.

"And you seem to be trying awfully hard to find the limit of that statement." You scowl.

I happen to like pressing your buttons.

"I noticed." You give a small, irritated huff through your nose. "You know, I also can't help but notice I've been doing most of the talking here. It's your turn to ask me a question."

That seems like fair retaliation.

There's a brief pause while he, presumably, thinks of something to ask you.

What was the source of your hesitation earlier? When I asked if you wanted me to touch myself.

"I want to know more about you first," you answer matter of factly.

Why?

"For several reasons. It's a very vulnerable position for me to be in since you can see me and I can't see you, so I want to trust you before this turns into that."

What are the other reasons?

"The more I get to know you, the more interested I might be. And the more interested I am, the more I'll want to take my clothes off. Just for you. Doesn't that sound so much better than a halfhearted strip tease?" You give the camera your best enticing look. "I think it does."

I agree. It does.

"Besides, didn't you promise me that you would make me want to touch myself for you? So make me, David. Give me more to work with."

You should be careful with what you say. Or you may accidentally ask for something you haven't thought through.

You blush and shift in your chair. "How do you know I'm not completely aware of what I'm asking?"

Because you wouldn't ask me to make you if you were.

You have to bite your lip to stop a whimper that nearly makes its way out of your mouth. You also have to fight back your initial instinct of looking into the camera and repeating, 'Make me, David.' You know that's pushing it, though. For now. But god, do you want to.

"Point taken," you force out through the tension. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

I wanted to know how I can remove that hesitation. Now I know.

"Eager, are we?" You tease.

Yes.

Can you blame me? The thing I'm impatient for is you.

"God, David," you gasp. "I think it's you that needs to be careful with what you're saying."

I know what I'm saying. But for your sake I will.

"Thank you," you exhale in relief. Your control and conviction can only take so much, and your grasp on them is weakening. And he knows it.

Does it bother you that I want you?

"Not really. A lot of men want me."

No they don't. They want your body. I want you.

"I still don't understand why."

I see something in you that mirrors something in me.

"You see yourself in me, do you?" You give the camera a teasing, seductive smile.

You're very good at that.

"At what?" You ask innocently.

Using flirtation as a means of misdirection when you're uncomfortable.

"How am I uncomfortable?"

Because you want to know what I see and that scares you.

"You think you could tell me truths about myself that I don't already know?" You raise an eyebrow.

No, it's not that.

"What would scare me then?"

That you want to hear it from me.

You mentally shake off the immediate denial because you know he's right. You want to know exactly what he sees. You want to hear your own truths from him because it's thrilling. And because if he knows and he's still here…

"Fine. Maybe I do because I'm curious just how much you really see."

I've seen quite a lot.

"Try me," you challenge.

Do you have many friends?

You frown and glance down at the top of your desk. "Not many."

Why not?

"Because...I find it difficult to get along with most people, I suppose. What does this have to do with anything?"

I'm getting there.

Would you like to know why you don't?

"This should be good." You lean back in your chair. "Go on."

You've always felt different, and it makes connecting with other people almost impossible. You try, of course, because you get lonely. Humans are social creatures, after all. Either you feel nothing towards them and they annoy you, or they keep you at arm's length once they start to see the real you.

How old were you when you started faking it, I wonder? When you realized they don't like who you are when you aren't wearing the mask. I bet you were young when you learned to never take it off. That's why you found it so easy to lie on camera and why you were so good at what you were doing. You've been doing it most of your life.

You sit with that for a moment.

You expect it to hurt because, objectively, what he said should be painful and it is lonely. But you're already fully aware of the truth, and you know he wasn't just saying it to be cruel. You asked. That's like being upset with a mirror for showing you your reflection.

Though you suspect he still hoped you would squirm when faced with it because he likes making you squirm.

"I found it easy to lie to those men because I don't care about them or their feelings." You sneer at the thought. "They were a means to an end. And I can't connect with people because I find the things they care about to be mind numbingly dull. Unfortunately that usually means themselves."

And in the beginning you said you weren't that interesting.

"Is that how you feel then?" Your voice softens. "Lonely."

Yes.

"I guess we're both in excellent company." You mean for your accompanying smile to be lighthearted, but you can tell that it doesn't meet your eyes, and a hint of your own loneliness weighs down the corners of your mouth.

I certainly think so.

Do you want to know what else I see?

"Yes," you reply without hesitation.

It's not just that those men were on the other end of the camera, is it? Or that they're men. You've always felt a deep disgust for everyone around you, and the camera gave you an outlet. The money may have been the reason you started, but that was the reason you kept going.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. "Interesting. And devastatingly accurate, as usual. But do you want to know a secret?" You lean in close and stage whisper, "I already figured all of this out."

Did you now?

"I did." You give the camera a smug smile and lean back in your chair. "I've been doing some self reflection since our last chat. Couldn't have you catching me off guard all the time."

Clearly.

"Now, that doesn't mean I don't want to read what you have to say. I still like knowing just how much you see."

I'll keep that in mind.

Did you figure anything else out about yourself? Because if you did, I want to hear it.

"I figured out that I've been denying myself the things that I want because I felt bad for wanting them. And the only reason I felt bad is because I was told I should."

And what is it that you want?

"Well, that's the question, isn't it? I'm still attempting to work that out." Then in a lower tone, "But it's becoming clearer to me."

I would offer my assistance, but you seem to be doing a wonderful job of peeling off those layers on your own.

But I also wouldn't object to helping you take them off if you asked me to.

"Are you serious?" You give your camera an astonished look. "I'm merely unraveling the thread you pulled, David. None of this was possible without you. You've helped me finally see myself so clearly that at first I was worried I only wanted to come back here because, between that and the money, I felt like I owed you something. But now I realize it's because I want you to keep pulling. I want to see what's underneath. What I've been denied—what I've been denying this whole time. And maybe…" You trail off, suddenly unsure because you almost let slip something vulnerable that still scares you.

If he saw you, would he still want to look? Or would he upend your life only to leave when you became too much? 

Maybe what? Don't stop now. I want to hear what you were about to say. And I want to hear the truth.

You take a deep breath in hopes that, in doing so, you'll find your courage.

You don't, but it's too late anyway. You've shown him a seam that's still neatly stitched. You can't pretend now that it was nothing because he'll latch onto it, and you can't lie to him because he'll know. As scary as it is, all you have is the truth. And he asked for it.

"Maybe for once someone won't be repulsed by what's there." Your voice sounds so weak. You hate feeling this exposed. Leaving yourself open like this is just an invitation for someone to hurt you—actually hurt you, like slipping a knife into a gap in your armor. Now you may as well be handing him the knife, too. But you push past that panic and fear, and hold tight to the truth. "Maybe…maybe I've been hoping you won't be."

You're practically fidgeting in your chair with anxiety as you wait to see if he draws blood with his response or plunges said metaphorical knife between your ribs. And to your surprise, his response comes rather quickly.

Do you think I would be here if I'd seen anything in you that came close to repulsing me? It's your disguise that I find repulsive. It's that you had to wear it at all that repulses me. I am restraining myself from tearing it off of you. I've only ever wanted to see more.

Repulsed?

How could I find such a perfect creature repulsive?

Oh.

"David," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "God, I��I don't know what to say."

Your heart is pounding against the walls of your ribcage, but no longer in fear. Not even in arousal. It's relief. Gratitude. Thrill. Anticipation. The desire to hear more of anything he has to tell you gnaws at your belly. You're starving for it.

That you even believe a single thing about yourself could be repulsive only strengthens my conviction that the world is full of monsters that hide behind their civility and their self-righteousness. They tell themselves they're better than us when the only difference is we're honest.

"But I haven't been honest, have I? Not always."

You are now.

"I'm trying to be," you correct him.

You've wanted to be this whole time. Do you think you would have embraced so many truths about yourself so quickly if you hadn't?

"That's a fair point." You lit a flame under your entire life with only the slightest encouragement from a complete stranger that was blackmailing you. To say that you've yearned to be free of it—to be yourself—would be an understatement. Now that fire is spreading and you don't even care enough to watch it burn. Not when you can look to him instead. "I have wanted it, I just never realized I did. Until you."

See? The money never mattered. It was just a means to an end, too. This was always my gift to you.

You let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. "Who are you, David?"

What happened to wanting to figure me out?

"That's still the plan, but I realize now I may have bitten off more than I can chew."

Don't worry, I won't let you choke.

Unless you want to.

You don't stop the pained moan that comes out of your mouth as you're tossed from feeling something approaching tender straight back into arousal. "My god, I'm getting whiplash," you mumble to yourself.

He doesn't say anything and you don't expect him to. His silence betrays how smug he's currently feeling just fine.

There's a moment of quiet then, and you glance around the room, willing yourself to calm down so your mind isn't trying to drag you in two directions at once. As you do so, your eyes catch the clock on the wall. You quickly do a double take and then look at your computer to confirm the time is correct. Because you're surprised to discover nearly an hour and a half has passed. It felt like ten minutes.

"My god. Is it really past seven?"

It is.

"I can't recall ever having a conversation where time just flew by. Usually it drags and I can't escape fast enough." You shake your head. "You know, being around people has always been exhausting and I couldn't figure out why. It's because wearing the mask is exhausting, isn't it? I was dedicating so much effort to not letting it slip and I didn't even realize. With you it's…different. I'm still worn out, but only because learning to keep it off is also exhausting. Just, you know, in the same way going to the gym or accomplishing a task that requires labor is. It's a rewarding ache." 

It gets easier. Like with anything, the more you practice, the better you get.

"You speak from experience."

I do.

"How long?"

About fifteen years.

"Fifteen years?" For a brief moment you wonder how old he is, but you aren't sure if he'll tell you more than his name yet. You file it away for next time. "And you just…live without it? Do whatever you want?"

Oh, I still wear it occasionally, but it's tactical now instead of habit. It can be a very useful tool.

"I hadn't considered that," you mutter.

Sometimes it's also necessary for survival.

"Survival?" You recoil in surprise. "Jesus, how could that be necessary?"

The world isn't kind to people like us. Besides, isn't that what you've been doing this whole time?

"I always thought it was just a way to fit in, but I suppose that was its own form of survival."

See? You learn quickly.

"It helps when you're being hand fed the answers, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless."

You should give yourself more credit. You're quite clever, remember?

"Not something I'm used to doing out loud," you shrug. "I'm sure I'll develop the muscle memory soon enough."

You will.

"So…are we winding down? Is that what's happening here? Because otherwise I don't usually have conversations about the clock."

Why? Is it your bedtime?

You know he's teasing, but you can feel how heavy your eyelids are getting. You were serious when you said all of this wore you out, even if you find yourself not wanting to go. "No, but it could be. I am getting tired."

Do you have an early morning?

"Not really. I technically still have work tomorrow, but I've done nothing except scroll through my phone and mess around on my computer since I gave my notice.."

How rebellious of you.

"Hardly," you chuckle. "I've been hoping they'll get annoyed and tell me they don't need me to stay the whole two weeks."

Couldn't you simply walk out on your own?

"Oh, I could. Doing it this way is so satisfying, though. They're furious, but what are they going to do? Fire me?" You grin. "No, they can only bite their tongues and watch it happen."

Then by all means, scroll away. Wouldn't want to come between you and your satisfaction.

You blush and look up at the camera from beneath your eyelashes. "You wouldn't?"

No. Your satisfaction comes first.

"Fuck," you hiss. At the same time you think, 'At least I would get that orgasm.' And that thought causes a potent swell of lust to pool between your thighs. Your breath hitches. "Now I really do think I need to go before I do something I might regret in the morning."

Would you?

Regret it?

You stop to consider whether or not you're ready—if you've learned enough—only to discover you no longer know the answer to that question. Which probably means…

You hesitated.

"I did," you sigh, disappointed, even as you remind yourself it's the right thing to do. And a good rule to hold yourself to.

There was more conflict on your face than introspection this time.

"Then you already know how I'm feeling."

I'll get you there.

That confidence that bothered you just a few days ago is now thrilling. "You'd better. You promised, David." 

It's a promise I not only intend to keep, but will enjoy keeping.

"Good." You give your camera a wistful smile. "Last time I couldn't wait to close this window. Now I'm reluctant to go. That should probably concern me."

Does it?

"No. It doesn't."

Good.

"You're feeling quite pleased with yourself right now, aren't you?"

As a matter of fact, yes I am.

Because I'm once again savoring an I told you so.

"Infuriating," you sigh, but without the irritation this time. 

Take the remainder of the evening to rest and do some self reflection, as you called it. I'm sure you have plenty to mull over before next time, and I'm eager to hear what new truths you uncover.

"You know I will. Especially the rest part."

Good. I wouldn't want to wear you out too soon.

"Don't worry, I have excellent stamina." You give the camera a wink. "Goodnight, David."

Goodnight.

Before you leave the spare room, you pick up your phone and peel the tape off both of the camera lenses. In doing so, you also quickly learn that tape was a terrible idea because it leaves behind an adhesive residue that you're forced to rub off, which takes a minute. You have to keep opening your camera to make sure there aren't any smudges.

Once that's clean, you completely unbutton your blouse, exposing your bra and your stomach. Then you go down to your knees on the carpet, hold your phone high, look up into the lense with a heated, angry expression, and take a selfie. 

A selfie of you posing the way he pictures you when he touches himself to the thought of you.

You text it to him with the message: "Some inspiration. No mask."

A good twenty minutes later, while you're in the bathroom brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes.

Stunning. I was very inspired.

Fuck. It's going to be another long night and workday, isn't it?

Chapter 3 ->

A/N: Hi. Hello. Yes, Reader needs therapy, stat. Alas, she's not going to go to therapy. She's going to go fuck David Robey, serial killer, instead. Very normal and healthy behavior. (LOVE that for her, though.) Also I cannot begin to tell you how empowering it is to write her. How freeing. I ask you, who amongst us hasn't worn a mask to hide themselves or felt bad for wanting something? Who hasn't wanted to be seen by someone that can't look away? Who hasn't wanted to shed expectations like snakeskin and then go absolutely apeshit? Because I sure have. So I hope at least some of you find this just as empowering to read. This fic is for all of us. (Just maybe don't try to emulate her. She super does need therapy, like, for real.)

[sparrowsarus]

ok i just finished playing bg3 and i haven't done ANY wading into the online fandom save for scrolling reddit threads that i came upon while pre-searching what the consequences of certain actions would be and i'm just....fascinated by the chain of things you've reblogged. though also not that surprised lmao cause i know fandom's gonna fandom. at any rate i am so curious about your opinions!

Oh, lol. Oh no. (Warning: the salt levels are sealike tonight.)

So, I will admit I am wildly out of step with the fandom, and usually don't interact with it? My favourite character isn't even met by the player until Act 3, and he is pretty widely hated because fandom loves to Make Up A Guy and shoehorn a character into it. (BG3 spoilers ahoy gang) also I hope this actually answers the question you are asking.

Let us begin with me saying: I don't hate Astarion. In isolation, he's fun! But the Astarion in the game, and the Astarion people think is in the game, are not the same character. "He loves kids!" "He's a sweetheart!" Astarion is a cunt and is proud of that. You get approval from being terrible to children. Astarion is traumatized? They're all traumatized! That's the point of the game! But there are other characters! Wyll is my favourite (you will see some people posit that his dad was a Horrible Abusive Monster, which...we have no actual evidence for. At all. Also comparing "being queer" with...willingly selling your soul to a devil is a bit. Hm. Sure hope that's not what Larian was going for! Pretty sure the ruler of one of the biggest cities on that side of the continent kicking his son out for selling his soul to the Hells, a thing that, in universe, is usually only done by evil people, is not a great comparison to make! Also Wyll is a fairy tale prince and I love him. I also love his dad. Fight me. But there is also Karlach. Her parallels to Wyll are fascinating: she's sold to the Hells and loses her bodily autonomy; he sells himself to Hell for the city he loves, and also faces loss of bodily autonomy. But they both hope, and keep their spirits up, and they love--they love so hard, and that is so important to me! Lae'zel gives up everything she has ever known when presented with the idea that she's been lied to. She's so young, from a brutal culture that lets its children kill each other--but she's willing to change her mind. She's willing to rethink her worldview. She's willing to save a world she doesn't even belong to. (Let me raise the gith egg, larian. give me the baby.)

Shadowheart was stolen. Shadowheart likes the same bad romance novels as Wyll's dad, Shadowheart likes animals, Shadowheart gets flirted with--badly--by Wyll and Gale. Shadowheart had one friend, ever, and that friend wouldn't come with her. The parallels between Shadowheart and Isobel? fascinate me.

And Gale! My poor middle-aged man! He just wants to read and hang out with his not-cat, and he approves when you help people, and he's just such a fucking nerd. They are all nerds. I love them.

So yeah. I have...many opinions. So many.

[peachymilkandcream]

Written In Blood|Part 17|Modern Yandere Levi x Evelyn

WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon, graphic descriptions of violence, domestic violence, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere behaviour/themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, wishing rape upon someone, misogyny, mentions of child abuse, blackmail, revenge porn, murder, etc.

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

Levi ushered Evelyn back into bed with no hint of concern. He didn't give a damn that she was injured or that he had been the cause, he was more upset that it had happened at all.

"Since clearly you can't be trusted with anything there will be some new ground rules."

Evelyn stares at him with contempt.

"I can't even let you have cutlery so I'll be hand feeding you from now on until you show some level of maturity and compliance."

She opens her mouth to protest but he pushes right along.

"Next, in our sleep you'll be handcuffed to me as well as when you have to use the bathroom and shower."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me-"

"This is your fault, had you played nice I would've given you some privileges, but you had to act like a brat. Now live with your consequences."

Evelyn continues to glare.

"Glad to see you agree. We don't want another of these "accidents" now do we?"

"I hate you."

"I know you do, but I have a feeling that will come to change in time."

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

For a few days Evelyn put up as willingly as possible with Levi's stricter rules. Being forced to sleep beside him and made to have him watch her do everything. The showers were the worst, taking them with him while he mercilessly pounded into her from behind. Hell could not be worse.

When he finally felt that she was being compliant enough he announced that he was taking her out for fresh air, as if she were a dog and not a person.

"Out where?" She ventured, opening her mouth while he was feeding her.

"Just for a drive, I think we both need to get out of the house."

She wasn't going to complain, a chance out was a chance to draw attention to her situation and possibly be free.

Evelyn drank the water without thinking, formulating a plan instead.

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

By the time Levi and Evelyn got to the chapel she was so out of it there was no way she could object to the horrifying thing they were about to do.

Levi had taken care of it, paid off the right people and arranged all the legal loopholes Evelyn could try and get through if miraculously she contested this.

He would have liked an extravagant wedding, one where he could show off his prize to hundreds of guests, enjoying their envious faces when he ripped down the garter belt with his teeth for all to see.

But this would do.

The ceremony was quick, a simple signing of names and haphazard vows promising to love, honor, and cherish. Oh he'd cherish her alright.

It seemed like Evelyn didn't even know what she had just vowed to do, or what was happening until Levi pulled to the side of the road and helped her into the back seat.

This would be quick. Again, not what he wanted for his wedding night but he was on a tight schedule.

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

Evelyn's whimpers filled the car as the glass steamed up, her legs beside his ears as he mercilessly pounded into her. They were legally married now, she was his wife. All that frustration at not putting a kid in her yet faded now. He wanted forever ties that would sever her need to escape, no matter what she did she was tied to him.

His climax came with a satisfied sigh, the stress of having to pull out gone as he came deep inside of her. Hopefully she wouldn't be as stubborn when it came to submitting to him and getting pregnant. But even if she did he could remedy that in time.

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

Levi was on such a high he allowed himself the guilty pleasure of picking up another prostitute on the street. She seemed chatty enough and didn't ask questions about the sleeping woman in the back, believing Levi that his wife was drunk and denied him what he wanted so he was going to get this other woman to take care of it. Little did she know.

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

Evelyn woke the next morning with a pounding headache, laying eyes first on Levi covered in blood. She didn't have to ask, by his expression and overall seemingly good mood she knew that another poor woman was laying dead in the bathtub, draining her blood.

"Morning wife."

She scoffs. "I am not your wife."

"Mm. You said differently last night."

"Well clearly, you slipped something in my drink."

"Our officiant didn't think that."

She froze, her blood running cold. "Excuse me?"

"I said our officiant didn't think that."

"What officiant?"

Levi sighs and makes sure his hands are thoroughly clean before showing her the marriage license. "I remember you vowing to love, honor, and cherish me. How touching."

"This is fake- it has to be-"

"I assure you it's entirely legal."

"But how-"

"Strings pulled, money dished out, it was simple really."

"So that means we're-"

"Legally married. And I must say you were quite eager on our wedding night."

She didn't know why but she believed him, that they were in fact married. Levi knew the law, he knew what to do, it was probably true. "I swear I'll find a way out of this-"

"You can try, but that's if you can manage to get out long enough for legal proceedings."

"You bastard-"

"You're upset right now, I understand. I'll go clean up a mess and we can talk about this later."

Evelyn shouted curses at him as he walked away, hoping now more than ever that someone would come for her.

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

The next day at work Levi couldn't remember feeling so amazing and sure of himself. He was a married man, with the most wonderful wife on the planet. Why wouldn't he be pleased? As he drove home he couldn't help but think about the future, where instead of just his wife he'd have children running up to him as he entered his home overjoyed to see him.

The thought made him press the gas harder.

Once again Levi entered without saying a greeting, walking as quietly as possible to his room, hoping deep down he'd find Evelyn in a compromising position, perfect to pounce on.

What he didn't intend to find was Evelyn's ex-boyfriend in the process of trying to free her.

"What the hell is going on here-!?"

The two jumped, caught. Evelyn screams for the other man to get out of here but like a coward he's frozen in place, weakly holding a kitchen knife to defend himself.

"So. I leave you alone and this is what I have to come home to?"

"Levi please don't hurt him-"

"I can't make any promises on that love, after all he's threatening my wife."

The last words make the ex fly into a rage, blinding stabbing at Levi and missing.

Without much struggle Levi manages to disarm him and stab the man in the chest many times, his pent up anger at the man for accusing Evelyn of horrid things in the past, daring to come between them, fuel him to stab him until he gurgles up blood.

"Now look what you've gone and made me do Evelyn. Had you kept your mouth shut then he would've been able to live the rest of his insignificant life alone in peace. You killed him, not me. This is your fault."

Evelyn sobs, staring wide eyed at the face of her dying love, he had hurt her in the past but he didn't deserve to die. "You sick fuck- just you wait- he made a long post about you, it's everywhere, someone will come for me, just you wait-"

Levi raised a brow. "Is that so?" He pulls out his phone, verifying the post's existence before sharing something of his own publicly. "There. No I doubt anyone will take him seriously."

"What did you do-"

He turns his screen, showing the video of Evelyn moaning for him in the car, responding positively when he asks if she wants more. The sight disgusted her. "He claims I'm holding and fucking you against your will. I'm sure this will disprove that."

"You're a monster."

"I know dear. Don't take his death so hard, I'll make you forget about it soon enough."

[killerandhealerqueen]

Hello again, this is from anon who asked your top fav moments from killer and healer.

First of all, thanks to you I started killer and healer, and I loved it. Thank you so much for your blog. When I found your blog, I already fed up with k-drama rom-com (and het romance drama in general).

Are all your favorite drama in your pinned post are bromance (with shippable characters dynamics)?

If you don't mind me asking again, what do you think are Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

You started Killer and Healer because of me?

(Don't mind me, I'm a puddle of happy goo)

Anyways, you're so welcome! I'm glad my blog could bring you joy!

As for my pinned post, yes, they are all bromances with shippable character dynamics (there are three kdramas as well, The Devil Judge, Beyond Evil, and Chimera but I just don't write fics/headcanons for them anymore).

And I don't mind you asking at all! I love talking about Killer and Healer and Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi and all of them. I love this drama a completely normal amount (lying) so if you have questions about it, fucking send them my way.

As for your question about strengths and weaknesses...

Jiang Yuelou has a lot of strengths. He has a very strong sense of justice, a very strong sense of right and wrong (which again could be a sense of justice), and he has a big fucking heart. He cares and loves so fiercely and he also feels everything. Like, that's why I love him because this man is not afraid to show emotions. Most drama leads are stotic or cool or whatever but nah bitch. This man? This man ugly cries. This man experiences rage and lets it show. When he's in love? Oh, it's in his face, in his words, in his expressions, in his actions, in his body language, it's in everything. He is an expressive man and I love that about him.

As for Chen Yuzhi, his strengths is that he's kind. He's so kind and so good and he tries to see the best in everybody. He wants to help everybody; doesn't matter if they're a gangster or an innocent child. He's a doctor so if he can help, he's going to help. And he wears his heart on his sleeve. This man has a bleeding heart and it's honestly kind of beautiful. If goodness was a person, it'd be Chen Yuzhi, honestly.

Now, for weaknesses.

For Jiang Yuelou, his temper is a bitch. He's a firecracker and it doesn't take much to set him off. And his strong sense of justice can be a double edge sword; sometimes he's so focused on doing the right thing that he doesn't really care about consequences or about who gets hurt in the process and people get hurt in the process. Also, even though he's an emotional person...good fucking luck trying to get this bitch to speak his mind or talk about how he's really feeling. This man has been hurt, badly. His mom abandoned him when he was 11, his dad fucking did opium and abused not only him but his mom as well as pimped her out to others for more opium and then when he fucking died, left Jiang Yuelou alone to have to fucking deal with the loan sharks. This man has been hurt and traumatized and when you've been hurt that badly...it's hard to open up to people. It's hard to let people close (which is why when he lets Chen Yuzhi in and lets him know his past...it's powerful. Because no one else knows about Jiang Yuelou's past, except for Bai Jinbo and Jiang Yuelou himself. So for Chen Yuzhi to know everything about him...it says a lot about Chen Yuzhi as a person and how much faith and trust Jiang Yuelou has in him).

As for Chen Yuzhi, his strengths are also his weaknesses. He tries to see the good in people and sometimes that trust can lead him to trusting people who end up betraying him (Liu Li). And because he's so good and so kind, people tend to take advantage of that kindness and goodness. And since he also wears his heart on his sleeve, he's more open to get hurt easier.

Honestly, the best quote that I think bests describes these two is: "All that pain and misery and loneliness and it just made him kind". Because at the end of the day, they are kind people. They're kind people who care for each other and care for others. And these two went through some shit. And yet they still came out kind.

As for what I love about their dynamic is that...they're two halves of a whole. Two sides of the same coin. Yin and yang (and we ain't just talking about wardrobe color pallets). They understand each other on a different level and like...to watch their relationship grow from how it started back in that warehouse to where they are at the end of the drama...my fucking god, it brings me to tears just thinking about it. They are each other's other half. They are each other's heart. Powerful apart but even stronger together. They melt around each other. You can just see it in their eyes how much they care for and love each other. It's just...

Look at them and tell me I'm supposed to be normal about them. Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me I'm supposed to be normal. I can't. I won't. I won't ever be normal about these two. Ever

[wildflowerwoodsworld]

bound, future, and mistake for fiona? and wound skin and hide for lana?

Okay, so I'm gonna go with th EL'verse version of these guys for both of these questions bc it's the universe where I know the most about them.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Fiona has had god knows how many incidents of people trying to capture her, but she's fairly quick on her feet so not many people have really succeeded. Generally when she is captured she just waits for Tondra and/or Julius to come and get her.

She has scars around her wrists from when she was fourteen and someone tried to cut her hands off to stop her from opening a portal. (this incident is actually how she met rookie magic knight Ledior, but we know how that story ends)

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Fiona gets a glimpse of her worst possible future during the elf arc, (her friends dead and the kingdom ruined bc she was too reckless) and after this arc she does start stopping to properly look at the situation before jumping in.

(the worst timeline for her though, is probably canon; dead young leaving Finral in an abusive home)

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

Oh. Now. Fiona has made a lot of mistakes over her life. She is reckless to her very core, but her biggest? That's a tough question. At the point we're currently at in the manga, she'd call her biggest mistake trusting Julius, but we'll see how the current arc pans out before making any statements like that.

So I'd have to say her biggest mistake is jumping in to help Julius fight Patri immediately. And I know that it doesn't sound like a mistake, but the consequences of this action mean that she can't help Julius later on when Patri stabs him and has to watch Julius die so. She does start thinking before she moves after this.

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Lana doesn't actually get hurt all that often; a side-effect of her main fighting method being burn the entire area to ash. But it does mean that when she does get hit, she isn't quite sure how to react. She generally freezes and just stares at the injury.

Beyond that, Lana is a Vaude and growing up in that house fucks you up. She's grown up with her father constantly cutting her down for not being a Spatial mage (when he decides to give her attention at all). The result of this- well, you've seen canon Langris. She is not emotionally stable. She is, however, better at accepting defeat.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Lana is not, in fact, comfortable in her own skin. Oh, she'll act like she is, but she's not good enough, she's not what her father wants, and no matter how hard she tries, she never will be. She's constantly trying to be something better, something other than what she is, something just cannot be because she isn't a Spatial mage, she's a Fire mage.

(somewhere, some part of her knows that there is a version of her who gave up, who let herself be beaten into the ground. She cannot accept that that girl could exist within her. Lana Vaude is Fire and she Burns, even if that means she burns herself down.)

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

She hides her insecurity, her fear that she will never be good enough for anyone, her jalousy that Finral got everything (a stable home, encouragement, a family that loves him) and she and Langris got left in that house with their father. She cannot be perceived as weak. She won't. She refuses.

[wkilofficial]

@wkilofficial I know *nothing* about the mechanisms or In The Green but I love a good analysis/comparison of music and especially when there’s concept albums involved!! Your tags were very informative but please can you tell us more about the Mechanisms and In the Green Vs MCR and Danger Days

YEAHHHHHHH okay okay okay let's fucking do thisss

the mechanisms feature less in this Analysis post bc they're just. band that makes me go batshit insane. but to explain what they are briefly!! they were a. steampunk cabaret?? that's probably the genre. band that ran for about ten years that made story albums that were like. reduxes of famous mythologies and folk tales, often re-scoring and rewriting prior folk songs to do so. their main four albums are, in turn, a grimm's fairytales sci-fi epic, a sort of jazzy steampunk retelling of the odyssey, a western redux of arthurian legend, and a rock opera style album of norse mythology leading up to ragnarok. and i Love folk songs and modern interpretations and the genders of the band are truly so soothing to experience (loki being a she/her character played by a he/him gnc man being in a lesbian relationship with sigyn, a she/her character played by a they/them fat person of color, is still so important to me). and i can't rlly sum them up in one post?? but i recommend their music to any literature nerds shjshjs

BUT ANYWAY ONTO WHAT I'M HERE FOR

in the green, in a brief summary, is an experimental musical about hildegard von bingen that deals a Lot with trauma and abuse and recovery as it relates to a religious and misogynistic society (12th century catholic europe!). and its cast is five people playing two characters: hildegard's Eye, Hand, and Mouth, representing how trauma at a young age fractured her and made her feel broken and disconnected from herself (her aspects can fight and bicker and have wills of their own and never really sing in harmony), and jutta's Main Persona and her Shadow, the representation of her abuse and trauma that she's kept buried far underground. the music of the show is really stripped back? it's drums, electric bass, cello, dulcimer, and a looper pedal that allows jutta to layer her voice and harmonize with herself in Really Neat Ways. BUT AS IT RELATES TO MCR. it's kind of a couple different ways?

thematically, itg shares a Lot of ideas about perpetuating the cycles of abuse and also does a lot with Catholicism? i made a web-weaving post about this awhile back (linked here) but it's like. jutta gets to be free of the consequences of her abuse of hildegard because she dies. she gets to cling to that virtue while hildegard has to shoulder the burden of her teachings of "repress and work and the trauma will go away". so i think a lot about "from the razor to the rosary" and "i'm taking back the life you stole" and just like. catholicism themes and living your life in spite of what you've faced?? idk it's hildegard experiencing this life changing event at such a young age and then being taught In Isolation that the best way to deal with it is to ignore it because acknowledging it will destroy her. and then discovering that she Can acknowledge it and that's the best way to recover but the woman who taught her the opposite Dies before she can share what she's learned. jutta gets to die before the cycle of abuse she perpetuated can catch her. she dies just when she learns how she could've fixed herself. he (jutta) gets to die a saint but she (hildegard) will always be the whore y'know?

and then the OTHER similarity is just. lyrics? i'm just straight up gonna post itg lyrics that sound like they could be mcr lyrics right here:

plucked from the harvest, before you start to rot / thrust in the darkness, where everything is not / you were not born to live, you were born to be forgive / you were not born to live, you were born to be forgiven - death ceremony

isn't she lucky? she is the lucky one / she will be the seed that grows without the sun / hallelujah and amen, amen / hallelujah for the dead, amen / isn't she lucky? she is the lucky one / she will know of death before her life is done / hallelujah, amen, amen / hallelujah for the dead, amen - death ceremony

i will never go back / there's nothing out there for me / i'm here to find the truth, and the truth will set me free / because if i can teach you how to be whole / i will see the light / that is my goal / when i see the light, i will be free / when i see the light, i will erase my history / for good, and i will be made new / and i will be among the few / and i will be of virtue - the rule

[JUTTA] it isn't easy work. you have to get down in the dirt. [HILDEGARD] i can do that! [JUTTA] can you? [HILDEGARD] i will / i will work until I die, if I have to. [JUTTA] that's the right attitude. - the rule

i feel a bubbling in my blood / and if it boils will i drown in the flood? / i feel an overwhelming need / to put my own flesh between my teeth / i am hungry / on what can i feed? - i am hungry

i'm scared of what i feel / maybe it isn't real, but / i'm scared of who i am / a monster masquerading as a lamb - i am hungry

you have to learn how to hold your breath / you have to learn how to feel some death / this flesh is a thicket / so weed out all that's wicked / the feeling that you feel's an unwelcome guest - eve

keep the beast in a cage / on a leash / keep her locked in the cage / don't let her speak / she will scream in the cage / she will shout / let her die in the cage / don't let her out - eve

[HILDEGARD] but why dig a grave? i'm not dead! [JUTTA] are you sure that you're alive instead? [HILDEGARD] i don't know what you mean. [JUTTA] might you be somewhere in between? / outwardly living, but broken inside? / working and working while trying to hide / the feeling that you've done something wrong? / this is where you belong! / i understand what you're going through / no one out there wanted you. - little life

but when you sacrifice / give up giving in to want / you have nothing to lose if everything's gone / when life is darkness / death is dawn / life is better in death - little life

i’m not going back / i’ll run until i die / and when i can no longer run / i’ll teach myself to fly - in the green (sidenote. favorite lyric in the show, possibly ever)

my heart is a stone / my body is not my own / my heart is a stone / my body is not my own - in the green

you must be / just like me / i do not fit anywhere up there / i carry a memory / it makes me hideous / hazardous, insidious, but / underground i’m at ease - underground

you must be / just like me / tired of holding back all your widening cracks / if you carry a memory / it’s too much to bear / broke you beyond repair, then / underground in the dark / you don’t have to try anymore - underground

underground, you can be / a creature without a name / underground, you can stay with me / with your memory - underground

but you came to the underground / and walked right through your shadows / somehow in the underground / you took something obscure / made uncertainty secure / in the poison found the cure / a spark - light undercover (sidenote sidenote. this is just an ft willz poem line)

where, oh where has my mind gone? / are my feet on the ground or six feet down? / where, oh where has the time gone? / every day is a year / is a night and round and round - the ripening

haven't i done all the things I'm supposed to? / i know what i'm meant to be / and i'm grateful for the blessing / of this body that is rotting / all i've ever wanted is to be free - the ripening

wow that's. a lot of lyrics about guilt and catholicism and category 10 woman moments. ONTO THE DD SIMILARITIES

in the green and danger days are both about. people stuck in a hostile society doing what little they can to assert control over their lives?? in dd, batt city and the desert are literally deadly and the way to rebel against the scorching sun and the enforced Sameness and Separation is to be Bright and Loud and Love As Fiercely As Possible. it's basically a death wish, to refuse to conform in a world that sees vibrancy as a crime, but the killjoys refuse to be a part of that great machine that makes up their world. in the same way, jutta is a character given a horrible hand: arranged marriage (that she runs away from) and an assault that she can tell no one about. so her only way to assert control over her life is to say No to participating in the world at all. she forcibly shuts herself away from Everyone because that was the one thing she could Do Of Her Own Will. she finds power in isolating herself because it was a decision She Could Make. the world was not meant to be kind to her and so she took the only true choice available and refused it entirely. both of these courses of actions are direct contrast to the societies the stories are set in and both of these courses are deadly but also Freeing because They Made Their Choice. no one else made it for them. the killjoys rebel by being as loud as possible, forcing the world to look at them. jutta rebels by removing herself from the world as totally as possible, forcing the world to forget her until she forgot herself. she found freedom in the cell because it was a choice she got to make.

SORRY THAT WAS RLLY LONG BUT WAAAAUGH I LOVE THESE BANDS AND THIS MUSIC

[renticat]

hunger that will never be satisfied.

there is hate on my heart and it's not healthy, I guess that's the number one reason I am holding on to the memories so tight even though they're an assholes in real life and just playing my feeling.

Because even when it was all lies, I guess I am seeing myself as undeserving of love and now I am hating myself so much, because I never give love to myself properly.

Like why the fuck, what is wrong with me? Well this is how your mind got fucked everyday knowing since little kid your parents hated you but never really said that but their action do. It's harsh when they only love you if you do what they wanted because they didn't care for whatever the fuck you want. It's unhealthy and you're chasing these love because everybody seems to be doing this and like in the good old stories ofc parents are loving their child. Well, they're not always. It's the truth and ofc it's easy when you have never experienced this but when you did esp since it was too early, it's just so hard to wired your brain again and judging everything as it is.

I have the urge to revenge even when it's useless because words, no matter what you say especially when it's the truth, they're gonna deny it because they saw themselves as hero and never hurting anybody. It's form of love, the abuse and discipline. Now that my life is fucked up to the core they act like it was never their fucking doing, it's me who born fucked. Can you believe that?

Oh please everyone have experience this like they're dismissed all my feeling when they can even show the pictures of family, fuck I don't do shit like that not even talking so no, you don't understand. Talk only because they're angry. Father's day is a joke for people like me and fuck you ahmet and all men like you keep harassing me when you know why the fuck I do what I did and there is no free call because that's what I've been saying from the beginning. It's for me to buy food to satisfy hunger that won't end. Fuck I guess it's pointless and I have been saying fuck too much.

You're a bad woman saying bad words and those fucking men who are creeps but cheap are fucking angel just because they can said bad things to me without consequences? I hope you're life hell, but life is not fair these kind of people live lavishly and don't seem to understand that they're the problem.

Comical. Like my bad attempt to joke about myself just because I can't take it anymore.

If I said you're just like my dad then it's over. And now All I see it's they're like that anyway and I am not that sad anymore. It's never worth it. Keeping someone alive just to torture them forever, it's better when they give me away when they don't want me and I have much healthy mind than this. Stop saying bullshit you should be grateful that you are alive now when it's like you're alive but in solitary confinement, not much food, no people would love to understand you because you're labelled as crazy just because you're unfortunate enough to experienced this kind of life you never chose to begin with. No hope and no way to change your surrounding because you've been raising to just nod and agree. Be a fucking property can't escape. But you're alive, you should be grateful.

I wish I am not. I wish death come and pick me up but gently. The end.

*the religion of peace. They're peaceful but not when you're the outsider. Oh try to live in the number one biggest population of it, it's not subtle. You're existence already wrong when you don't even choose that yourself. It's wrong to just walk out and have your own opinion. Fuck you ahmet. And those oil guy who only give me headache but never really give me anything yet they're talking down to me but they think so highly of themselves.

So much logical nonsense.

I am about to upload again on my telegram but then the ahmet face's comes up in my mind, well I should have block him but I don't do it unless someone is pestering me non stop, well but he comes up sometimes just to compliment me like it was meant anything. I don't need that. I need someone who generously share everything with me and ofc we take care of each other. But men only take and take. Well it's okay if they give something but they're only been giving me headache and bullshit. And I hate this, I want to work but again the religion of piece, won't hire anyone unless they're the same like them. It's the truth. It's so limited and I have no skill in arts thanks to the loving dad who called them they're sin when if I can draw or dance in stage i would not be this miserable but I can't. I am too old, that's why you got into entertainment when you're young.

Well but it's predatory and not safe, i guess being old and seen as trash so that I must just get along with anyone bullshit that probably they will make me his wife and abuse me also very unsafe. Ugh.

Fuck you Ahmet. Fuck all of your kind.

Be pure, only give lust to your husband that probably already thinking to get another wife just because his bored and it's permissable as long as he can give food to both of them. Anything else is not mandatory. Collect all the women. Don't give them high education because it's not worth it. They're stupid.

Now I know why my dad always tackling me down. Because he really do believe I can't be anything. And yeah if you're doing arts you're whore no matter what section. This cult is nonsense and not offering any peace.

I am angry but I can't do anything. They laugh because it's my own fault. No, it's the whole system you created. So there is less and almost none healthy thinking men in this world anymore that respect women. Fuck you.

[agent-cupcake]

You know, you've written a lot of your thoughts/hcs/etc on how various characters would behave as yanderes and so on, but I've never seen you talk about yandere readers before and I feel like that's an interesting subject to consider? Especially for 3H - you have a treasure trove of damaged boys to attract obsessiveness from girls who are convinced they are the ONLY one for them and it's their duty to drive away competition/threats/anyone they want.

Okay it's time to be toxic. I’m not going to go for all the guys, just the ones who immediately came to mind.

Dimitri: I joke quite often that I would be yandere for Dimitri. It all started when I brought up killing the girl he danced with at the White Heron Ball and quite frankly it's only spiraled from there because doesn't the Savior King Dimitri deserve to be adored and worshipped? Doesn't he deserve someone who wants the best for him and only him? Doesn’t it only make sense for him to be with someone who understands his mental issues and is willing to offer him unconditional support and patience? Doesn't he need someone with unwavering loyalty who will do anything no matter what the cost for his sake? It'd be so easy too because he's super dependent, desperate for affection, and clueless so if you just nourish those traits and constantly downplay his discomfort/suspicion of you driving away anybody who you feel is a threat by saying that this is how relationships just are, that it's just because you love him so much, that you're just looking out for him, what's he gonna do? It's not like he'd have any solid basis for knowing how relationships are supposed to be. Besides if he gets too upset you can threaten to leave him just like his mother did, I'm sure that would work to get him back in your arms (where he belongs). Yeah, that’s a little fucked up but it would be so much worse for both of you in the long run if you were apart. Being too aggressive or overt about your obsession would definitely make Dimitri wise up so it'd be better to go with love bombing. This would be good because it really lets you prove your devotion to Dimitri and makes it easier for him to just laugh off and excuse your disturbingly possessive behavior. His friends would be potentially problematic, but they're not always around and Dimitri's private enough that he probably wouldn't volunteer information about you to them. If you told him that it made you very upset and uncomfortable when he was friendly with the girls from his class, he’d most likely stop for your sake. Bonus round, have his babies. What is he going to do, abandon the mother of his children? Dimitri?!? No way. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to risk breaking his family, but neither would you! After all, this is all because you know Dimitri better than anyone which means that only you can love him.

Sylvain: Sylvain being manipulative and cheating on you after you try and prove your love to him through conventional means causing you to snap and kill hurt the girls, throw his lies back in his face, and prove that you're the only girl for him by preying on his emotional trauma with women is really something to consider. Why try to resolve toxic situations with love, compassion, and open communication when you can use blood and abuse to keep him with you? Play the part, be snarky, witty, flirty, be super hot and cold to keep him intrigued, give him the best fuck he's ever had, really show him that you don't care about his Crest, you just want to love possess him. Maybe even do the whole "I don't care who you're with, we both know you belong to me" to really engage him in those super fun mind games. Make everyone else acknowledge that you're the perfect girl for him, get them all to vilify him for continuing to be such a womanizer and breaking your heart. But, like, why stop there? Encourage him to retaliate, to be mad at you. Tease him for being so disgusted and angry at you when all you want, all you've ever wanted, was for your hearts to beat as one and then later act confused because of course you wouldn’t make light of his feelings like that, that’s horrible. All you want, all you’ve ever wanted, was for him to acknowledge that your adoration for him is true. Really break him until he gives you the whole “I’ll let you chain me up so I never even look at another girl” schtick. This might seem awful, but so is he! Reform can be difficult and if he’s going to be happy, he has to be made to understand why his behavior was so bad and the consequences of it. Because it’s not like you’d act like this if you had any other choice, it’s not like you’d continue once the two of you were truly together, of course you wouldn’t treat him so cruelly once he vowed himself to you and only you. And, really, I think it’d be a lot easier once he understood that and you got to prove your love to him through raw, unadulterated affection. Spend every day adding onto the list of why you love your Sylvain. 

Claude: Claude being more than aware of the ole' saying "don't stick your dick in crazy" and then doing it anyway because he has a proclivity for the fiery, forbidden, and oh-so temping call of danger would be the perfect set up for a very bad predicament. You’d have to play some mind games to really convince him that he’s the one seeking you out, he’s the one who’s got it bad, he’s the one who wants to have you. In other words, you’d have to give him a challenge. But, you know, if it’s a game, you’d have to play back because you’re doing this for him, because you love him, because you want him to realize that he loves you, too (Uno reverse Claude’s yandere behaviors, basically) so obviously you’d have to eliminate any obstacles and taking out anybody who could be a potential threat. Get him to open up about his dreams, his past, his feelings. As it goes with basically all of these affection-starved men, make him feel loved for who he is. You know, if you were really good, you could probably even get him to give up on everything else for your sake. I mean, I loathe the ending but he does that for Lysithea. Pull a Tangled on Claude and make him believe that you’re his new dream as he mostly certainly is yours.

Felix: Sweet Felix. So oblivious but so difficult. A man who would provide the ultimate and most dangerous yan rival of them all: the thrill of the fight. In a lot of ways, I think he’d be like Dimitri. Mostly just because he’s so dense when it comes to love of any kind. But he’s also not as emotionally desperate or dependent so you wouldn’t really be able to use that against him. The similarities come from Felix’s equal amount of inexperience with romance which opens up a lot of possibilities for you convincing him that certain behaviors are normal. You can even bring up how his cold emotional state (something I believe he’s insecure about) is what forces you to be so overbearing, how badly it hurts you.  You don’t necessarily mean to be so cloying but you’re so afraid of losing someone else you love so much (another insecurity of his). After all, there is nobody in the entire world who is like him, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, (three for three with his insecurities) and how irreplaceable and precious he is to you. These examples are kind of “soft” when it comes to using his insecurities against him, but you could go further with them assuming you were sure that it wouldn’t drive him away. Not knowing and having to work on assumption would always be a pretty big reason to control yourself in how you went about manipulating him because Felix is stubborn and prideful and pushing him too far would only hurt the both of you. It’s actually kind of funny because as opposed to the traditional yan mindset, it would be in your best interest to get Felix to form relationship bonds with others (but definitely not any of the girls he’s so popular with) because that would be a bargaining chip when convincing him to stay with you.

Ferdinand von Aegir: Ferdinand is, honestly, so easy for this. Like, I feel as if I don’t even need to talk about the details. You show him some affection and he’s yours. Bury him in love and praise. Tell him that it makes you unhappy when he talks to other girls or prioritizes his work over you and then reward him with boundless warmth and devotion because of course he would bend over backwards to make you happy. He just wants to be needed and treasured, to love and be loved. He’s already got the poetry and the ring and of course he wouldn’t mind getting married right away it’s true love, why would you wait?

Yuri: Yuribird is the forbidden darling. You’d need to be running on 100% love because he’d sniff out and ditch you at even the smallest whiff of deliberate obsession. But you know what he wants? More-so than the other guys, in some ways. He wants to be known and loved for who he is. In the face of genuine affection, he doesn’t stand a chance. Still, you’d have to be measured about this stuff. If you were jealous and got rid of your rivals yourself, Yuri would be disgusted and leave you. And you can’t hide that sort of thing from him, either. You’d have to go all in on the manipulation but only in the most honest way possible, that’s the only way past his defenses. Get him to prioritize your feelings first so he feels guilty talking to people or acting in ways that upset you. Reward him for putting you above everyone else. Constantly remind him that you’re the only one who knows and understands him, who loves him for who he is. Get him so emotionally fucked that even if his big brain logic is telling him that you’re toxic and horrible, he can’t stand the thought of being without you. He’d give up crime, it’s not like he even particularly likes it. Set up the perfect life for him, something domestic and sweet and warm, something he’s never had worries he doesn’t deserve, something that keeps him away from others. The goddess only knows how much he deserves a happy dream for once, and you’re the only one who can understand and provide that for him.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty

Words: 3.1K

Warning(s): Explicit language, substance abuse, verbal abuse

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My dad always used to tell me, "wisdom is being young enough to get away with doing something stupid, but still knowing better."

I never paid any attention to it because I didn't have any stupid decisions lined up at the age of eight. Or thirteen. Or sixteen...I guess because I never experienced the art of bad decision making and their damnable consequences, all of that pent up stupidity broke loose when I was seventeen and didn't slow down until I was in my thirties.

Young enough to get away with doing something stupid…

"What the hell are you thinking, Duff?" His older brother yells.

I'm listening with my ear pressed to the door, waiting in the hallway outside of Duff's apartment...trying not to be too mortifiedly embarrassed. 

"Matt, it's—"

"—You're fooling around with a married woman, Duff, I know exactly what it is!" He yells. 

"They're getting divorced, Matt, alright? It's not like I'm-I'm just sleeping with her for the hell of it!"

"She's getting out of a six year relationship and getting a divorce at twenty-three, Duff, don't you fucking think the reasonable thing for you to do is back off and let her actually process that before having sex with her?!" 

"It's not like I'm taking advantage of her! I'm not! She loves me—"

"—She's lost! She's vulnerable! She's confused! She'd fall in love with any bone head that was a good guy right now!" He shouts at him. "What are you thinking, Duff? I mean, honestly, what the hell are you fucking thinking?" 

"I-I don't know!"

"What the fuck happens if the media gets ahold of this? If mom finds out that her son is getting hot n' heavy in cars in dark parking lots with a married girl!"

It's quiet for a second.

"I would explain that they're getting divorced, and—"

"—Bullshit. You know what she'd say? 'Married is married until divorce is finalized'." He states. 

"I think mom would be pretty understanding, Matt. I don't think she'd judge me like you are or try to talk me out of it."

"You sound like dad right now, you know that? Just fucking like him." He cuts. "And it's bullshit because I know you aren't anything like dad which is why I'm so stumped right now." 

"It's not that big of a deal." Duff argues. 

"Has she filed yet?" Matt asks next, not skipping a beat. 

"W-What?" 

"Has he filed yet? Have they filed yet?" 

"I don't know—it's not my fucking business." 

"So you're just sleeping with her and you don't even know if they're even splitting up at this point? Of course not because she probably doesn't even know what she wants!" 

"She told me she's gonna divorce him." Duff tells him, certainty in his tone. 

"Well, actions speak a hell of a lot louder than words, don't they?" Matt fires at him.  

...but still knowing better.

The door opens quickly and I pretend I wasn't listening, taking a few steps back as Matt storms out, giving me a second glance before walking down the hallway to the stairs.

I peek into the apartment to see Duff pacing, not paying any attention to me still being out here. 

I take a breath before heading after him. 

"Matt," I say when I get to the parking lot as he goes to his car, "wait."

"You don't owe me an explanation about it, sweetheart, it's between me and my brother." He tells me calmly, getting into his car. 

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask him, catching my breath, before he can close the door. 

He looks at me for a second. 

"Do you? Or a wife or a boyfriend or something?" 

"I have a girlfriend." He tells me. 

"How long have you been with your girlfriend?"

"Like, almost a year, now." He replies, not seeing the point of telling me this. 

"I bet you're really good to your girlfriend, Matt." I say, and he slowly catches on, sighing a little. 

"I try to be."

"Nikki wasn't good to me. For years. While he was killing himself with drugs, he was killing me with how he treated me and how he acted and when you really love somebody you sit and make excuses for them to make however they're killing you seem justified, and it's not. It never is." I explain, a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. "And you don't realize it until one day you're watching a woman you loved and trusted tell the world she's been having an affair with your husband. And then those rose lenses shatter and it's clear. You've spent years of your life giving everything to someone who would probably trade you for an ounce of smack if he ran out." I sniffle. "I really loved him, and you're right, I do still love him. I do. But I also know I'd rather die than willingly throw myself back into that hell. I haven't filed yet, but I am going to when he gets back from Japan. And I do love Duff, and he's a very, very good man. I don't know the situation with you guys' father and it's not my business, but whoever and whatever your dad is...your brother is the farthest thing from it. And I know you are, too, just from the way Duff's always spoke of you and your siblings. I'm sorry for the trouble, and I know you're just trying to look out for him, but you need to be proud of him. Not for what you saw earlier, but just for the fact he's a really great person in a city filled with selfish pricks. You need to be proud of him, and he needs to hear that you're proud of him." 

He lets out another breath, processing what I'm saying, nodding again. 

"Have a good night." He mumbles to me, shutting the door, and I let out a breath and head back upstairs, seeing Duff stopped pacing and eventually just plopped onto the couch. 

He looks at me when I come back in, his eyes sad, a solemn look on his face. 

"I'm sorry if you heard any of that." He says to me and I sit down on the couch beside him. 

"It's okay. He's just trying to look out for you, you know?" 

"I know but he doesn't even know the half of it." He sighs. "And I'm not acting like my dad because if I were I'd be sleeping with anything in a skirt and leaving my wife to deal with my eight kids. 

He tells me lowly, hurt in his voice. 

I try to find the humor in it, nudging his side. 

"You have a wife and eight kids?" I ask, smiling a little and he looks at me, his lips tugging at the corners. 

"No," his lips crack the smallest of smiles for a moment, "but even if I did I wouldn't treat them like shit." He adds. 

My hand comes up to discreetly brush against my stomach. 

"Your brother just wants the best for you." I tell him.

"Who cares? It's not his or anybody else's business." He replies, leaning back, rubbing his forehead. 

"I love you." I offer, hoping the words make him relax a little. 

He huffs out a breath, finally looking at me, his hand grabbing mine, pressing it to his lips.  

I did love him, just not the way I thought I did. I mean, when I was in love with Nikki, it was evident to everybody. I looked at him like I worshipped the ground he walked on—because I nearly did. With Duff, people had to ask me whether I really loved him or not. I always thought it was because we were moving so fast that it seemed abnormal, but in photos when Duff and I were together it was obvious he and I had no fucking clue what we were doing. We were happy with each other, and loved each other, but it was like we both subconsciously knew we weren't going to workout. At least we eventually accepted it. 

I could've divorced Nikki, eventually married Duff, anyway, and made the same bizarre decision that Tansy and Axl made to divorce twice before finally getting married a third time, years later, when their shit was together—because even if Duff and I did get married, we wouldn't have made it through the early 90s.

A couple mornings later, I'm going back to my house since the coast is clear from Nikki since he left for Japan. 

Checking the mail, I furrow my brows as I'm sorting through the bills, randomly seeing an envelope with my name on it. 

I take the mail inside and open my letter.

"What the hell?" I mumble, looking at a couple hundred dollar bills.

Then it hits me. 

"Hello?" Karen's voice on the other end of the phone, chipper as ever. 

"Why the hell am I getting sketchy money from Elektra?" I ask. 

"It's from 'Wild Side', Viv." She explains. "Because Nikki credited you as one of the writers, remember? They couldn't write you a check because it's under the table." She adds. 

"Under the table?" 

"To avoid—"

"—Well, I don't want it." I state. 

"Viv, you're getting a divorce. I'd keep every dime I could, honestly." She advises. 

"Karen, that's no…" I trail off, my mind running a mile a minute, piecing it together. "What time is it in Japan?" 

"Uhm, like, 2:00a.m. maybe?"

"Where are they staying?" 

"Vivian—"

"—I need to talk to Doc. Where are they staying?" 

I didn't want to talk to Doc. Don't ask me how I managed to harass my estranged husband from 16 time zones away, but, I did.

"You knew you were gonna divorce me, you piece of shit, that's why you credited me so I'd get money to cover divorce court!" I accuse viciously. 

"I don't fuckin' know what you've been smoking, Vivian, but you sound insane right now!" He fires back. 

"What I've been smoking? What the fuck have you been smoking, Nikki?! Huh?!"

"Have you been sleeping, Vivian?! You're being fucking psychotic!"

"I'll get on a flight and show you fucking psychotic, asshole, you set me up and then left the fucking country!"

"I credited you as a joke—I didn't think they'd actually take it serious and send you part of the royalties!" 

"Bullshit! You and Vanity planned for her to tell everybody about your bullshit with each other, knowing I'd leave you and file for divorce so you could be together!" 

"If I was that fucking mean, Vivian, I wouldn't have credited you so you wouldn't have gotten paid shit, you crazy bitch!" He insists. "And take your goddamn medication!" 

He hangs up and I roll my jaw before throwing the phone.  

I could've killed him had I felt like flying to Japan.

"Then he tells me I'm being psychotic!" I vent to Izzy over the sound of the vacuum. 

"Well, were you?!" He asks me and I cut the vacuum off. 

"No, I wasn't. I just called him out on his bullshit because he loves to think I'm stupid."

"What exactly did you say to him?" 

"That he credited me so I'd get money, that I'd probably put toward paying for a divorce."

"That's not too bad." He furrows his brows a little. 

"Exactly. Not to mention the fact I know he's still seeing Vanity and the whole plan was to tell the world they were engaged, knowing I'd leave him, so they could finally publicly be together." 

He looks at me funny, before asking, "d-did you tell him that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, you lost me, Viv."

"What?"

"That's complete bullshit." He states. 

"How?" 

"How? Viv, the man is on a horse-sized dose of heroin on a daily basis—and the crack he would smoke with Vanity—do you think either of them had the energy or mental compacity to conduct a plan like that?" 

"They had the energy to fuck each other, so, my perception of how much they were able to do under the influence has no limits at this point." I argue. 

"I think pregnancy has you cuckoo  for cocoa puffs." He mumbles. 

"Izzy, I'm being serious." I hiss. 

"I am, too, Viv." He tells me. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete asshole, but I just don't see Nikki high as a fucking kite coming up with this elaborate plan to leave you so he can be with his side piece while simultaneously deciding he wants you to be financially stable enough to withstand a divorce. He's a mean fucker. If he wanted to leave you, he would tell you to fuck off and file the same day without giving a flat fuck if you could afford it or not." He says. "And he's not seeing Vanity. There's no way she'd keep her mouth shut if they were still together." 

"She managed to keep her mouth shut about it for over a year." I grumble. 

"Yeah, because she was probably hoping he'd leave you for her." 

I stop what I'm doing and look at him. 

"Do you think he would've if she didn't tell everybody about it?" I ask next. 

"I don't know, Viv." He answers honestly. 

"Would you?" 

He glances at me, serious for a moment, before the hint of a smile tugs at his lips. 

"Never in a million years." He says and I smile a little. "Would you leave me for Duff?"

I pretend to think for a second. 

"Depends on who's better in bed." I reply with the response I expected from him and he just blinks at me. 

"Fuck you." He says and I laugh, eventually getting quiet, really thinking about what I said the last time we spoke. 

"I'm not gonna do that to Duff." I say to him and he just looks off for a second. 

"What made you change your mind?" 

"He really loves me, Izzy." 

"Yeah, he does." He shifts on his feet. 

"Do you think...like, if him and me stay together…" I don't have to finish it, he already knows where I'm going. 

"I think it'll be great for the first several months because it always is." Izzy replies. "But once the new wears off and things get more clear…" 

"...Yeah."

NIKKI 

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I beat the phone against the wall so the crazy bitch can't call here again. 

"Two o'clock in the morning and she's making a long distance call just to gnaw my balls over something I didn't even fucking do? And bringing Vanity back up? What the fuck's her problem? 

So, she got money for her credit, oh well. Plenty of people wouldn't necessarily mind seeing a couple hundred dollars for them in their mailbox but of course her ungrateful ass can't even be thankful for it." I hiss to myself pacing my room. "Cunt." I add, grabbing my bottle of wine from the TV stand, taking a big swig of it. 

"Fuck her." I state next. "Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her...fuck," I take my wedding band off and throw it at hard at I can at the mirror in the corner of the room, on the wall, "her!" I yell when it makes impact, taking a step back, and another, falling flat on my ass. 

I don't have the energy to get up, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling. 

Just like my dad. 

Just like my mom.

She just fucking left me...and I made her. 

"Fuck her." I refuse to admit aloud it's my fault because it's not.

Sure, I fucked Vanity, I cheated on her first, but that doesn't give her the excuse to do the same to me. 

"Fuck her." I repeat again.

I kept trying to convince myself I hated her. The truth was I hated myself, and was just trying to get that frustration out by turning on her. 

It was easy to do when I imagined her under Duff while I was across the world, suffering, telling myself repeatedly she didn't give a shit about me.

She was probably thinking of me under a random groupie the entire time I was gone, and I don't blame her. I stayed under random groupies any other time, so why would Japan be any different? Especially after she and I were separated and had no obligations to each other.

I didn't have sex in Japan, honestly. I couldn't. I was too fucked up. I would try to, but it just wouldn't go over too well. My body was give out from abuse, my hands were scabbed from picking, my skin ate up with track marks, my face was sallow. 

Fans would tell me they were worried I had the flu and I'd laugh it off and promise I was okay, then go to my room and stay locked in there until I absolutely had to leave. 

I was on smack, constantly, to the point I wasn't even high but just shooting smack as maintenance, which served as a good excuse when a big magazine reporter came to Japan to talk to me and the guys about the tour and when the topic of Vanity came up…

I try to keep from rolling my jaw as the loser starts his question cautiously, testing the waters to see if I'm going to cut him off and tell him to ask another question or fuck off, or if I'm okay with it. 

I remember Vivian's bullshit idea about me and Vanity wanting her to find out about the affair so she'd leave and we could be together. 

Why the fuck would I go through that much shit just to be with someone like Vanity? 

Leaving Vivian to be with Vanity is like leaving the frying pan to hop into the fire dick-first. 

With this in mind as, "so, who is she to you?" finally leaves his mouth in reference to Vanity, pen in hand, ready to jot my answer and spread it around America the second it leave my lips, I pretend to think for a moment, and finally reply, "she was my fiancée." 

[gotta-pet-em-all]

You know what? I don't need to lift a finger to rip you to shreds. You've just given me all the ammunition I need to shoot your argument down.

Someone who so carelessly flings threats of violence should be prepared to face the consequences.

Oh, I am! Don't mistake me for someone who doesn't know the weight of my own words, because I will stand behind them and fight. I noticed you mention violence twice in your first paragraph; first you say that I should be prepared to face consequences for my violent words, then you say inciting violence [implicitly: my actions] will only bring violence to one's door. I notice you never threaten direct retribution, but rather, imply that I am at fault here and some fundamental, divine force of karma will do so.

Gotta love that use of passive voice! /s

I’m a firm believer that people who misbehave must be punished according to their misbehaviour.

Oh hey, kudos for gender neutral they/them! Here's another bit of ideology that bothers me: this whole crime-and-punishment mindset. Fundamentally, it stems from the idea that humans are inherently broken/evil (see: earlier statement about how all humans are abusive towards pokemon) and need punishment to keep them in line. That, in essence, goodness and altruism do not exist in the world, and only the fear of punishment can create a "just" society.

This is bullshit for several reasons, and in my experience, punishment is usually just another form of abuse that perpetuates a cycle of violence. Consequences are acceptable in moderation, but punishment breeds resentment rather than understanding.

Each person has value in this world[;] everyone can be useful to some degree.

[image id: a young man with dark skin in a Unovan football uniform stands with a reporter's microphone pointed at him. The football field can be seen in the background; it is currently empty. The image is captioned, "They had us in the first half, not gonna lie." End id]

Damn, you were this close to making a good point! And there's the capitalist influence in your ideology; that someone's inherent value as a person is directly tied to how useful they can be to others. Haven't you studied history? Why don't you sit down and look up the ten year old girl from the pre-hisuian era who couldn't walk or clean herself, based on her abnormal bone structure. Read about her teeth, will you? Sugar was rare back then. Living past childbirth was rare. But this little girl, who had no use to her society, was cared for and loved. They fed her sweets, so many sweets that her teeth had cavities.

Why don't you read about her, and maybe then you'll calm down. There is love and whimsy in the world you stupid motherfucker.

However[,] I believe that people should not accept a disability as something that limits them, and never use it as an excuse to why they cannot live to their full potential. A disability does not make anyone special or unique[;] they should be expected to act in society and participate in activities the same as anyone else.

[image id: a cropped image of the oxford online dictionary entry for the word "disability." It is a noun, and defined in the image as "a physical or mental condition that limits a person's movements, senses, or activities." End id.]

Sir. I really don't think you're qualified to talk about disability if you don't even know the fundamentals of what it is.

Take myself as an example of what can be achieved.

On behalf of the disabled community? Shut the fuck up. You have internalized ableism and you're projecting your vitriolic self-loathing as a disabled person onto others. You don't speak for all of us.

Some of us wish for a cure. Some of us don't. Some of us have complicated feelings on the matter. Some of us just want to be taken seriously. Some of us need full time care. Some of us only consider ourselves disabled under the social model of disability. Some of us don't really think about it much, because they only fall under the medical model. Dist, some of us self-identify as cripples.

A lot of us consider ourselves to be fundamentally different from Abled folks. Too many of us have been told we're not living up to our "full potential" when that potential exists only in the imaginations of the teachers and parents and mentors who have pushed us to burnout.

Your naive assumptions and accusations mean nothing, you have no worth toward Team Plasma’s goal. Be quiet from now on.

And the thrilling conclusion! Let's do some pattern recognition, shall we? Here, you call me naive; in the first paragraph, you addressed me as "child." Oh, and let's not forget about the tags!

[image id: tags reading "think before you act. you foolish child." end id]

Infantilization of your opponent in order to call into question the legitimacy of their argument; always a classic! Oh, and I am ex-Plasma. So, these assumptions and accusations of mine? Far from being baseless, I would even call them extremely based.

Then we have you telling me that I have no worth towards your goal-- cool cool, so you're calling me worthless. Nothing new there, capitalist standards of labor and the commodification of the human body, et cetera, et cetera.

You want me to be quiet? Make me. Break my jaw, and I'll just roast you with an AAC tablet.

Trainers of Rotomblr, and hence, the world! Listen to the cries of your Pokémon! They do not belong imprisoned in pokéballs, but free and thriving, separate from the labor humans force upon them! Hear me, and free your Pokémon!

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Hey, I'd like to say that I'm very glad you've brought your Hermione x Draco x Theo to tumblr. Your ficlets are brilliant! As a prompt, what do you make of Hermione and Theo jumping to Draco's defence when he's on the receiving end of verbal abuse in Diagon Alley??

Thank you so much!! Here’s a longer one for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Featuring the trio on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley, and a cameo from Harry and Ginny too because I love the platonic friendship between them, and I want everyone to be friends in the end...

Obvious warnings for verbal abuse directed at Draco (and Hermione to a certain extent).

___

“I need to pop into Flourish and Blotts before we go for drinks. Harry and Ginny won’t mind if we’re a bit late…” Hermione said almost apologetically, but Draco just chuckled and bowed his head, ushering her in front of him with a courtly wave of his pale hand. It might have looked obsequious to anyone else, but the self-deprecating humour in his eyes made her heart clench.  

Stepping close to him as she passed, Hermione pressed her palms to his chest and surprised him with a kiss to his still-smiling lips. If the flush in his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t been expecting the gesture.  

Before either of them had the chance to do anything else, however, someone spat and hissed at them from behind Hermione. “Death Eater scum,” the middle aged man sneered. “We don’t want the likes of you here, polluting Diagon Alley!  And you, Miss Granger, should be ashamed of yourself - consorting with Death Eaters…”

Hermione saw red.  

Theo didn’t draw his wand, but immediately put himself between Hermione and the wizard while Draco stood perfectly still behind them, jaw clenched, the recent flush evaporating to leave glacially white skin.  

“How dare you!” she shrilled at the man while Theo’s dark blue eyes fixed him to the spot. The usually bookish, scholarly young man now had a poise and readiness to him that spoke of a master of spellcrafting. A flick of his wrist could have had untold consequences for the offending man, and his furious, ashen face showed it. His height - towering over Draco, Hermione, and the vile little man at nearly six foot four - may have contributed too.  

“Draco Malfoy has been commended by the Minister for Magic himself, for his bravery at the end of the war in not betraying Harry Potter when it would have been the easiest thing in the world to speak his name. How dare you make such assumptions! And where were you anyway? Where were you while children fought against Voldemort? And won!”  

“Hermione,” Theo murmured warily, turning to face her slightly. His fingers curled around his wand, out of sight but ready in his pocket.

Nostrils flared, Hermione drew a deep breath and fell silent, though her eyes never left the wizard standing nearby. He looked suddenly a little sweaty around the temples.  

Theo turned back to him and said in a low, dangerous voice, “I suggest you leave now, and keep comments like that to yourself from now on, hmm? Better yet, open your fucking mind, ok?” And when the wizard seemed rooted to the spot by the ferocity of the reaction his words had elicited, Theo raised one eyebrow and jutted his chin at him, and the man finally scuttled off, coming to his senses in a rush.  

Almost shaking with rage, Hermione turned back to look at Draco. The young man stood statue-still, watching the two of them with an inscrutable expression on his pinched face.  

“Draco?” Theo murmured, leaving Hermione’s side and crossing to him, cupping his face with an elegant hand. He kissed him gently on the lips and Draco’s eyelids fluttered, lashes glinting like silver leaf.  

“Let’s go,” he rasped, turning away and breaking the contact. 

As Draco walked off alone up the cobbled street, Hermione and Theo exchanged a wordless look, linked hands, and followed after him. Their stay in Flourish and Blotts was not long, the jubilant atmosphere now somewhat crushed, and in fact they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron a little earlier than planned. There was no sign of the others yet either, so once they were ensconced with their drinks in a private corner near the back of the ancient warren of a pub, Hermione placed her hand on Draco’s solid, slender thigh and squeezed. “Are you alright?”

His head snapped up and he met her gaze with glistening, moon-bright eyes. “Am I alright?” he asked in a breathless, incredulous whisper. “Hermione, are you?”  

She frowned, visibly taken aback by the question. “I’m not the one who was just openly called a Death Eater, Draco,” she growled through clenched teeth.  

To her surprise, Draco’s expression melted at that, his shoulders dropped, and his whole body grew soft and tender. He reached falteringly for her cheek and brushed the knuckles of his left hand reverently over her flushed skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.  

“Draco?”  

His lips tugged upwards into a tiny, private smile, and the warmth returned to his silver eyes. He dropped his hand back to his lap. “I’m fine. It’s hardly the worst I’ve ever been called. I’m just sorry you got tarred with the same brush.”  

When that only deepened the scowl on her face, he sighed.  

“Hermione, that’s… What happened today is not going to be an uncommon occurrence if you stay with us. Theo’s… more of a grey area for them, what with his relative anonymity. Despite his father’s… associations… he’s much less well known. You’re —” he shrugged expressively in her direction, “— Hermione Granger. Everyone in the wizarding world knows your face.”

“Then they’d better get used to seeing it next to yours,” she said, eyes blazing. She snatched up Draco’s hand and set her other one palm-up on the table for Theo to slide his into. Connected like that, she felt that familiar thrum of magic run between them, free and easy as a water droplet down a pane of glass. “Both of you. We just… work together, Draco; we fit. And I’m not going to back down or bow out just because people think they know everything about you just from one moment in your life, Draco.”

He swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, and looked at Theo, finding the same quiet passion roiling in his sapphire eyes. Theo nodded slowly. “Get used to it, Draco. Our Gryffindor lioness is terribly protective of us too, you know?”

A wry smile twisted Draco’s full lips up into a lopsided grin. “A lioness with a snake beneath each paw, huh?”

“You’d better believe it,” she said, breaking their handholds to lean over and take a gulp of his whisky.  

“Starting the drinks without us?” came a familiar, amused voice from behind her, and she made a noise of surprise behind the mouthful of firewhisky.

She set Draco’s tumbler down, amber liquid sloshing around, and looked over her shoulder to see Ginny and Harry standing there hand in hand, both smiling.

Harry’s trained gaze - as both auror and friend - took in the vivid sheen to her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, and the tension in her shoulders, and he tilted his head. “Everything alright?” he asked in a quiet voice as she stood to greet him.  

She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him so hard he coughed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I exist as well, you know?” Ginny snorted as Hermione finally released the young woman’s fiancé. The laughter in Ginny’s voice chased away the last of Hermione’s lingering ire and sadness, and she flung herself with equal fervour at her too.  

When they parted, Hermione slid in beside Theo this time, who nodded at the others. “Ginny, Harry, lovely to see you,” he said warmly.  

“Likewise,” Harry grinned. “Though I’d have thought that Hermione would have loaded you both up with books like pack mules after a visit to Diagon Alley… Where are they all?”

“We didn’t stay long in Flourish and Blotts this time,” she said carefully. “Plus, I’ve got my bag anyway…” she said, with special emphasis.  

“Ah,” he said. “I’ll forget I saw that then, Hermione,” the auror chuckled.

Ginny, still standing, looked at Malfoy and unleashed a deadly grin at him; all teeth. “Ferret,” she said without bite.  

“Weasel,” he returned fondly as she slid into the seat beside him. “Good to see you. Congratulations on making the team,” he added.

Ginny blushed and Hermione looked at her. “You made chaser?”

“First chaser now,” she said, freckles obliterated by the rising colour.  

“Ginny, that’s fantastic!” Hermione practically shrieked. Theo even put his finger comically in his ear and she thwacked him on the arm for it. “Shut up, you,” she snorted affectionately at him and he flashed her his trademark, dimpled grin. “That’s amazing news. Let us get you a drink to celebrate!”  

As the banter flitted between the five of them, the wizard’s comments from the Alley were slowly forgotten. The laughter returned to Draco’s silver eyes as he watched Hermione gesticulating with her hands over her gin and tonic, and he smiled when he caught Theo shifting the drink a little further towards him for safety. A lump formed in his throat that no amount of whisky would ever wash down.  

Much later that night, as he lay with Hermione’s head pillowed on his chest, her curls all over the pillow beside them, and with Theo tucked up on his side next to him, snoring softly, a few wayward twists of his hair tickling Draco’s forehead, Draco stroked his fingers through Hermione’s hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.  

She shifted, the movement a sleepy question in itself, and he sighed, leaving another kiss there amid her wild hair before whispering, “I love you, Granger.”

“I love you too, Malfoy,” she mumbled.  

The arm slung across his chest tightened momentarily, but it did nothing to still the swirling cloud of silver butterflies that fluttered around inside his ribcage at her words. Those words would never get old or tired, no matter how long he lived or how old and tired he got.  

With one final kiss each to Theo and Hermione, Draco finally let himself drift off to sleep.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[bby-ahgastay]

a/n: hey guys. there's a lot going on right now in the US. my heart is heavy seeing it all. as a little girl i was terrified of cops. no little girl should be scared of someone who is supposed to protect her and everyone around her. i plan to help fight for BLACK LIVES MATTER. i hope you all will do what you can as well. i wrote this after my parents told me they don't want me near the protests. my dad said he's seen videos of people being pushed to the floor by cops for just standing there. i told him i would be okay with becoming one of those videos if it means people will keep seeing what's going on. so that people will finally see that ALL. COPS. ARE. BASTARDS. i wanted to use this small platform i have here to get out some of what i have to say. and i have so much more to say still. not enough can ever be said. i hope that those of you in america stand with me and everyone else on this side during this time. i pray and hope with all my heart that our boys will.

SILENCE = VIOLENCE

TU LUCHA ES MI LUCHA

ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

BLACK LIVES MATTER

-------

"hey, i've been seeing all those videos... you're really going to this thing? it seems so dangerous," your boyfriends worried voice rings through your phones speakers. his camera is pointed straight upwards, all you can see is the ceiling in his kitchen. "i don't really want you around all that stuff. you could get really hurt."

chan was in korea right now. you live out there too, for school, but america was your birth place. stuff has been getting bad in america lately. the virus hit everywhere hard, but america didn't deal with it properly. while the rest of the world was recovering from it, people out there are still getting sick and dying. and the fight between races was no better after so long. black people were still dying at the hands of people who would receive no real consequences. and people are done.

there are riots and people are looting. the streets are filled with people who are done with cops. the entire criminal justice system in america was built on a rotten foundation. they started as a slave patrol, to bring back slaves who had escaped their owners clutches. what is built on a rotten foundation will always be rotten.

you want to fight with those who want to better the country. so to show your support for the black lives matter movement you decided to go home. to fight with them right there in person. it didn't feel enough to stay in korea and show your support through social media. so now you're back at your family home in los angeles, ready to go to every protest you can.

though chan wishes you wouldn't. he's been trying to stay as up to date with everything as much as he could. he knows that you've already gone to the ones that have happened since you've arrived, but they're getting worse and he keeps trying to get you stay home. you know he just cares for your safety. you've been hurt already and he's scared how much worse it can get. but this is too important to you to just stay home and watch from your window. you wish he just understood that you need to be a part of this as much as you possibly can.

"yes, i'm really going. i have to. i need to be a part of this," you bite your lips nervously. "i mean..." chan appears on screen again, eyes sticking to you intently as you speak. "all my life, i've been told how lucky i am to be in this country. how proud i should be that i was born an american. and i know i should be proud, my grandparents worked hard to make sure i could be an american. but how can i be proud of this place anymore?

"just seeing my own family struggling to live here peacefully is enough reason to be ashamed. how is it right that my abuelo and abuela came here for a better life for their family and now they can't even walk past a police officer without worrying about getting stopped. cops hardly need an excuse to harass a person of color. and if my grandparents are ever stopped by a cop they could find out that they're not legal and they'll get deported.

"i've grown up terrified of cops. at five years old if i would just see a cop car near my house i would know to tell my mamá and papá so we could get the house ready 'just in case they wanted to take abuelo and abuela away from us...' that's what they would say to me and the other kids in the house. we were all just children... but still we knew exactly what to do by the time we could walk and talk.

"and while we have to hide my grandparents from the law, hide them for their crime of making a better life for their children and the next generations to come, a black person has to worry about losing their life or losing a loved one while just walking down the street.

"you've seen the videos, chan. they're chanting 'black lives matter' and 'all cops are bastards'. they're both right and they're both something that everyone should know by now. and yet still here we are fighting against people who still support cops because theyre either just as bad as they are or they simply don't understand. and they chose not to educate themselves so they go on believing that we are the bad guys. i want them to get it. this isn't white versus black. this is everyone versus racists. and them saying 'i'm not racist' can not be enough. 'not racist' will get us no where. what we need is anti racism. and until we have that i won't be proud of this country.

"how can i? how can i be proud of a place that not only doesn't welcome me or my family, but a place that allows lives to be taken everyday and for what reason? all because someone with a badge, the same badge they used as slave patrollers, decided to abuse the power we wrongly placed in their hands because they know they can get away with it since that person was darker than them. because as far as this system shows the law doesn't know yet that black lives matter. and since they lack that knowledge they get away with no more consequences than a slap on the wrist. and we've been trying to teach them. we've been screaming at them 'black lives matter' for years. but they haven't listened. they kept pushing it away, ignoring it. they continue to allow the murder. and they think that we will too.

"well, i fucking refuse. i refuse to watch this anymore. i refuse to just let this just be another month full of retweeting petitions and nothing more. i refuse to let my country go on like this. i refuse to let my children see america like this. i refuse to become another adult in this damned place telling my kids 'you should be proud,' just for them to grow up and see what is really happening here. i don't want them to just be another generation that this shit just gets passed onto. this fight has been going on for too fucking long and i intend to be a part of the movement that ends it in any way i can. and right now that means going to every single protest i can."

your voice shakes the entire time you talk, tears streaming down your face barely a few sentences in. a hand comes up to wipe your face, sniffling slightly and clearing your throat. you look back at your phone, catching channie's glassy eyes through the screen. "sorry, i-i got carried away... it just all makes me so mad," another wave of fresh tears comes and you struggle to keep them back. a groan leaves you as you rub your eyes with your sleeves.

"hey," you look to see him shaking his head. "don't be sorry. i understand. i'm proud i have such a passionate girlfriend. and i know that you will help make america a place that one day our kids will be proud of, just like you want for them. i love you. please be careful out there," there's a slight break in his voice and you're surprised to see a couple tears fall from his eyes.

"i promise i will. i love you, too, chan. so much."