#i gave some timestamps to help you visualize!

[timew0und]

a year or so ago i posted this on my previous blog & have finally found it, so here is part one of the soundtrack to remilia’s life aka before the main questline of skyrim begins .... i hope u enjoy <3

before the title reveal [ . . . ] title reveal. skyrim's main theme by taylor davis (cover).

SCENE . . . begins overlooking a vast flowing field, of soft greens & hazy violets. springtime breezes stir the tall grass & lavender stalks with lover's caress as the beginning of the cover plays. a young woman appears before the camera, back to us as the audience. with dark, dark hair to her hips, braided messily but with care, simplistic dress of white close to body & feet bare of shoes. one hand comes to brush against nature before her, & the camera pans upwards, around, to her face. eyes of green fire meet ours, & the theme picks up, as if saying: ah, here she is! our girl, our hero. camera continues to rise, up up up to the pale blue skies—thus title is revealed [0:41], & then a line from a poem fades in. it reads: CHORUS: o, sad one. some heavy god has put more pain on you than any other human being.

the beginning. talia's theme by two steps from hell.

SCENE . . . begins pitch-black. howling winds, mournful & cruel. night sky is shown, pale stars barely evident under blanket of darkened clouds & blanket of night. howling winds fade & theme begins as we follow a snowbank up to a tiny, ramshackle barn of rotting wood & rusting nails. upon a straw pillow—oh, how scratchy & uncomfortable it looks—& with a lone wool blanket 'round frame, a young woman sits within barn; the same young woman from before, but more frail, more terror-ridden, more frightened prey even with no predator in sight [0:18]. a blackbird with its beady, all-knowing eyes stares from windowsill, cloaked in darkness. her eyes are closed for a moment, then open & lift to the landscape outside. her knees are pulled towards her chest, head leaning on arms, mesmerized by sights & sounds of a rare winter upon the land of high rock [0:25]. lonely, lonely, lonely… she is terribly lonely. is this all there is? is this all there will be? same blackbird is our camera, flying out & back to the sky [0:32], beginning its roam over the village. not a soul is out, & all lanterns are extinguished. then: pitch-black once more.

the dreams (visions?) begin [ . . . ] the divines call! prologue by ramin djawadi.

SCENE . . . where are we? where is that young woman? it is unknown as of yet where we are, what we are seeing; what we are supposed to be seeing. a cave, perhaps? deep within the earth? coal-black walls, yet cracks reveal bright, scarlet fire, or mayhaps molten lava. [0:00 - 0:46] then, a monstrous roar, a shaking of the screen! a voice, a language guttural & powerful & ancient. dovahkiin! somewhere within the depths, there rises a cacophony of a girl's screams & wails & sobs. we, as the audience, know only one concept from what we are given: everything is hurting, everything is burning, & everything is changing. nothing shall be the same again. NOTE . . . this theme plays all the way through, the ferocity of the flames & the shaking of the screen growing stronger & stronger as do the wails.

awakening [ . . . ] where are you, child? fate awaits. eastern path by vangelis.

SCENE . . . the young woman is back in our sights. she is in a restless state of sleep-wake, eyes moving rapidly under thin lids, bottom lip quivering & brow furrowing. expression of terror & despair stays frozen 'pon delicate features, sweaty & flushed. awakening with a startle, her chest heaves & she gasps for air, hand coming to bosom as if heart hurts. despite the almost-freezing temperatures she has lain in, she feels as though she is on fire; as though her body, her soul itself, is aflame. tunic-dress is ripped off with violent, frenzied movements, though nothing is shown except her bare back. a call to run, to move: she knows not where she shall go, but she knows she cannot stay here any longer.

journey begins [ . . . ] fate will not wait for thee. wandering jane by dario marianelli.

SCENE . . . o'er hills, o'er ice-lands. the journey is not pleasant, nor kind. weather does not sympathize, nor do the gods wait. she stumbles, she falls, she rises. she cries into her palms, she skins her kneecaps, bruises her body, speaks to no one but the watching wilderness & watching moons & sun. yet she falters not, for fate is a rope 'round ivory neck, & it pulls her ever-forward.

border of change [ . . . ] border of rebirth. winter by paul halley.

SCENE . . . the crone who took her in, brought her away from death's arms, spoke in prophecies with glazed hues of the bluest blue. in a language unknown to all but the pillars of reality itself, she asks: what is your name, girl? & thus the girl speaks: remilia. secret revealed: it has been her fate since her birth, since before her birth, since before her great-grandmother's birth, before her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother's birth: this prophecy. she feels the heaviness of the world upon her frail shoulders, feels the burn of the rope of prophecy upon the tender skin of her neck, threatening to hang. from past to present to future untold: it is her duty to defeat the great evil that shall follow her to the ends of time. only one shall survive, & it must be her. sobs escape her mouth as she dashes out of the tent. falling to her knees, she lifts her head to the sky & gives a soundless scream of why? why me? i am nothing, i offer nothing. please, this cannot be given to me. NOTE . . . as soon as the woman looks up from remilia’s palms & says but one phrase — you are the last dragonborn, it must be you — in her quiet, slow voice, the scene cuts to the tent flap being shoved open, as if the poor girl cannot get out fast enough.

stages o' grief unfolded, denial [ . . . ] must i truly do this? once upon a december by emile pandolfi.

SCENE . . . she has not written much before. though taught by those in the village that saw & pitied her, she has not had need nor want to simply sit & write. her letters are small & a bit lopsided, the ink messy from where she pressed too hard on certain strokes, & while she tries to angle her head away when tears begin to flow, they too stain the paper. it is a note of leaving: a thank you & goodbye to the woman who saved her life & taught her so much; of the gods, of the land, of survival, of what she must endure.

stages o' grief unfolded, acceptance [ . . . ] yes, i must. under an ancient sun by jeremy soule.

SCENE . . . evidently, some time has passed: perhaps a day or two. dawn arrives, with birdsong & breeze. we see nothing but the whiteness of snow, as far as the eye can see, mountain-tops & pine trees. the crackling of snow underneath footsteps. then, a fur-lined boot comes into view. the camera rises to her face: she is nervous, terrified even. but her mouth is set into a tight line, her brows furrowed. she raises a hand to the amulet of kyne now lain ‘round her neck: a gift from the woman before. with a shaky inhale, her journey begins. NOTE . . . the music is already playing by the time the sun breaks over the mountains. it continues on.

[rauhauser]

Conversion Therapy

Like Captain Hook and his temporal detectable crocodile, this graph haunts me and I hear a ticking clock when I open it.

Way back in the fall of 2020, three months before the election, the events in MAGA world were getting complex. I opened Maltego, pasted in a URL, used the Named Entity Recognition transform that accesses IBM’s Watson, and the initial graph filled with a dozen names. Now a thousand days have elapsed, there are 1,088 URLs in there, and an astonishing 2,908 names. The 5,672 entities and 13,011 links connecting them have become a sort of Rosetta stone, a thing that gets opened when reporters I know are fact checking complex flows of events.

But there’s trouble here. Maltego is a Java application and that graph is enormous. When you give Java more than 31 gigabytes of memory it switches to using 64 bit pointers and your actual usable space yield declines. If you need more than 31 gig, the next sensible number is not 32, it’s 49. A couple months ago I upped the allocated memory to 64 gig and that helped for a while. Now it really does need 80 gig if I’m going to work with that graph and pull a slice of it out in order to share with someone else.

There are other subtle problems that can’t easily be depicted in a screen shot. Twenty one Date/Time entities have crept into the graph.

And this is the real circus. There are 189 events … and an event is a child entity of … Location. They have timestamps as an internal attribute, but Maltego doesn’t really have any tools to handle temporal data.

This situation is untenable. That graph won’t work reliably on my desktop and only hardcore gamers have more capability than my setup. There are four other tools I use that can handle data relationships:

Gephi can handle a quarter million nodes in a graph but it lacks features for handling geospatial, temporal, or diverse entity data.

Graphistry is a web accessible GPU driven commercial alternative to Gephi, but with similar constraints on data types.

Tulip is an intriguing Gephi competitor, but more a framework for doing serious artwork with smaller datasets and richer network layout needs.

And that leaves Sentinel Visualizer. This is a full featured link analysis package meant for corporate fraud investigation, law enforcement, and intelligence activities. It’s Windows only, which pains me a bit, as I changed careers twenty five years ago to get out from under Microsoft’s marketing weasel driven chaos. But I think I’ve got something workable here:

So that’s Windows 10, and I’ve got it treed in a VirtualBox VM. I gave it 40 gig of memory and ten of twelve cores. I spent an evening Googling and fiddling with virtualization settings and I’ve finally got something usable in terms of speed.

Every other OS you can install in a VM, give it some resources, and it’ll just run. Windows seems to need the Guest Additions installed, a couple reboots, cursing in English and one other optional language of your choice, another install of Guest Additions, and then giving up and walking away in disgust overnight. Complete this ritual and you’ll be left with an operational system.

If this were an actual physical system we would not be having this conversation. Microsoft’s utter disrespect for the value of my time in the 1990s was intolerable and in this area I have not mellowed with age. But with a Linux host and VMware I can do essentially instant backup and restore using the ZFS snapshot feature and it’s possible to export the machine in OVA format as an offline backup.

And that's the first step data wise. I fed it an export of names, then some URLs. I'm puzzling over how to use Maltego's internal UUID with Sentinel Visualizer, without smearing an endless blur of visually very similar strings all over the display.

I have a couple projects in mind with this:

The MAGA world meltdown graph has to be either moved or abandoned.

There are a LOT of interesting datasets from Ukraine that involve both geospatial and temporal data.

There are famous historical battles that are well documented enough to make for a nice graph, but I've yet to see a source that offers both geospatial and temporal data in tabular form.

So that's the direction we're headed for the second half of 2023. If I get something worthwhile put together, I will make it available for use with Sentinel Visualizer Reader.

[placegrenette]

I mean, I would say, "Another day, another interview with no hope whatsoever of English subtitles," but that would be ungrateful.

Okay! The host is Margulan Seisembayev, and he apparently does these roundtables fairly often. Participants are ZaQ; Arman Yussupov, who founded an online training center of some sort; Assel Sadvakassova, an actress and writer (I think?) who also sat down with our favorite YouTube-based one-on-one interviewer, Timur Balymbetov*; and Askar Ilyassov, an actor.

Description:

Each of us wants to be happy, but we all understand happiness differently. In this episode of the Gemba podcast, we talked about what prevents people from being happy and how to achieve balance in life. What is the phenomenon of happiness and how not to lose it? To find out the answers to these questions, watch the episode to the end. I'm sure you will find it interesting! Enjoy watching!

I probably would find it interesting. For now I'm stuck with remarking that Google's ability to render Russian into English has gotten smoother over time.

Translating the timestamps doesn't add a lot; there's apparently some discussion of power-pose theory, some of how reliance on smartphones affects our mental health, and some on the inner child, which may be relevant if you recall that those Gap teasers also had text about the inner child, I am not in a position to research how psychological concepts disseminate differently in different countries but maybe consideration of the inner child is trendy in Almaty right now?

At about 40:49 ZaQ goes into one of his trademark monologues, and I tried the trick I tried a couple months ago, of putting the auto-generated Russian subs into Google Translate. Obviously this is a machine translation of a machine transcription, and if you're feeling cranky about AI I don't recommend this, but the result felt very ZaQ-like: he basically talks about how there was no Kazakh rap when he was growing up, all he had were a couple cassette tapes his uncle would occasionally bring in from the city (I think "the city" refers to Semey), and yet he dreamed of becoming a rapper, focused his energy on becoming a rapper, and now he believes that all that dreaming and visualizing helped him get where he is now. "I constantly gave energy to my future self," says the translation of the transcription, which, again, feels like the kind of thing ZaQ, he who likes to philosophize about energy and ideas traveling like waves, would say.

* Balymbetov, bless him, conducts these one-on-one interviews in Kazakh (including with Bala, who might have been just as comfortable in Russian, maybe more so), so I can't try the transcription-generating trick. At one point I suggested to the @qpoptranslations team that we contact Balymbetov's staff and ask if they have written transcriptions, which would at least allow me to render an imperfect translation and do a summary like I did with the Zamandas interview. But they're understandably wary of picking up extra work, and I haven't summoned up the nerve, myself. If you know someone who knows someone, or know enough about Kazakh manners to tell me to whom to write and what to say to them, I will be in your debt.

[eddiesfaerie]

Long Sleeves (part 2)

Summary: Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship (13.5k words, i dont know what to say other than im so sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, major angst, annoying fluff, mentions of divorce, affairs, age gap (between Charlie and reader, previously implied), nudes, phone sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, some size kink, pain kink(?), rough (and angry and sad) sex, dom and sub themes, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), i also mention christmas a lot at the beginning which isn't really a warning but i know not everyone celebrates it!

Part 1

A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, days, spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him everywhere.

The thousands of ‘good girls’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘fucking sluts’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, not happening) with Nicole for nearly the past year. 

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

Lo-

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… façade that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

Your early Christmas presents, he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for at least another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs. 

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. Magical, rewarding, fulfilling.

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion. 

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so fhuuuucking good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. He tasted so good…

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- fuck.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big you are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“Yeah, yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“Yeah, I’ll be your fucking Daddy. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, Daddy? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up. 

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

JANUARY - BROOKLYN

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking tons of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, Daddy?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘fuck!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

//

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t most definitely do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” Daddy.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. Why were you teasing him like this?

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘love you, dad.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘go’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, finally, making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. Why would you say no? How could you?

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. Who you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... Daddy.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably Charlie; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet.

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“Please.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“Fuck, your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... please.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- FUCK!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“Good girl.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.” 

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?

Did she stay the night, Dad?

Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?

You and Mom’s bed, Dad?

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

MARCH - BROOKLYN

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down. 

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

Do you think the backyard is big enough?

What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?

Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest.

What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?

What about the guest bedroom?

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had that conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

//

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late. 

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

You kind of were.

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

//

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre? 

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago. 

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. Was this it?

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

Charlie was kissing you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

Love.

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of stupid fucking love. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears. 

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

Fuck.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

Eventually…

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you. 

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, please.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, asking.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, please.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress. 

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“Please.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t.

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

Fuck, what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“Fuuuck, perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, please-”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and slightly dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘fuck’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, fucking into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. Hot, wet, slippery. Charlie sniffles. 

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in you.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. You love him.

“I do, Charlie I-I do. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, Charlie.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- shit, Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, fuck!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- fuck, too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“Yours.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, yours.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f-fucking cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“Fhuuuck-” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. You love him.

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. Charlie was worth loving.

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again. 

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore. 

tag list! @morby @shesakillerkween @gamingaquarius​ 

[asvp-hemu]

Timestamp : Tuesday January 25th 2022/Wednesday January 26th 2022 Unknowing Of True Proper Time In The Plane On Flight Mode

Feeling A Lot Of Emotions From The Window Seat With Views Down Below And Up Above

By the time I land this will most likely be sent or posted or whatever you call it when I get a signal I suppose.

I wish I could … no fuck that … I want to tell you how much you truly mean to me. How much you inspire me. How much you motivate me. How much happier you make me. How much you change the way I see everything from the moment you came into my life, because everything was brighter than ever. You make me want to live. You really do. And not just for the good, or for the better, and more than for myself. Your energy, your aura, your soul — words can’t begin to describe what an amazing woman you are and how much impactful your presence and shine is on this earth.

I understand how long it’s been and everything is different and nothing was, or will ever be the same. I just have so much in me that I hold it all till I fucking can’t anymore because it’s how my heart is.

Everyone has different various views and feelings of what a soulmate is, and what defines true love within them. After this many days, nights, this many seasons, this many years, is it wild, is it shocking, is it fucking crazy that my heart still beats for you. Yes?! Ducking yes!! I can’t fight against it. My heart still says it’s us. And I can’t fight against my heart cus I feel this inner sickness and pain when go against it that idgaf anymore. Because Everytime, my heart says you’re the one. That even after time apart, My heart says you’re my true soulmate. You’ve always are my one true love.

I want to tell you that your creativity inspires me. You, an amazing visual artist who was able to paint and draw so well, that I wanted to learn how to myself, which helped optimize the way I implement my interfaces. How the colors you brought out in me gave artistic abilities and visual perspectives that my mind couldn’t even possibly reach. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with photography if it wasn’t for you. I know I was alright when it came to taking pictures when we were young, but the fact that we share that love for it, one thing forsure is that bond for digital photography. I’ll never give up. Every picture taken, every moment captured, every digital masterpiece I’ve ever done with a simple click. It’s forever dedicated and honored to you.

You made me motivated to work and grind nonstop, because yes working does suck at times, but when it’s doing something you love and when you’re doing something you love for yourself and the people you love and cherish, you brush off the negative side of it and you just keep going till you have the perfect visual platform, interface, design, artwork, and photo thats impressive, useful, genuine, and out of the strength of love. Not gonna lie, sometimes I wish you were there so you can give your output and approval on some of the projects I was involved in over the past few years. I still don’t accept compliments and such for any of my works, cus all the credit really goes to you. Shit I’ve been travelling back and forth over the years now (besides during early CoVid days and whatnot cus no one could travel obviously, even now, and this was the part of the business that kinda sucks when you don’t want to go but you have to, at least I’m coming home rn … nvm) Look, my thing is, If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I don’t deserve any of it. I really don’t deserve it. And that’s just statement facts, and I’ll stand by that fact. Or well, I’m reclined in this seat by that statement as a fact.

I just want to travel with you (not for work) and just fly out and create newfound memories and cherishable moments exploring the world, Together, you and I, doing things like embracing the views from rooftops of big tall skyscraper buildings, or walking along these super soft beaches that when you look at the sea it has that glistening effect, or Going out eating all these different cuisines and delicious foods, and go shopping out here cus it’s really different with foreign outfits. I wouldnt want to do it with anyone else, I simply just can’t.

I want to tell you how much you held it down for us. That together, we push forward through all the bullshit, and hardships, no matter how painful or tough it got that we both will never stop. We can get through got this cus we fucking got this. We’ve seen it all, been through it all, and that together we are strong. These may be just words I’m typing, but I would hold on tight and give it my all. For you, for me, for us, and for everyone.

I want to tell you how beautiful you are. How you stand out amongst a whole ass crowd, even if there were taller than you. Not that you’re short or anything. (I love you I love you I love you). And that you’re a flawless human being. Even if you think you have a flaw, I won’t see it or believe it cus come on now. You know how truly stunning you are. You do, yes you do. I’m dont have to hype you up if you ever do read this cus you already know. I miss looking into your eyes. It’s corny and cheesy to say oh “I could stare into your eyes all day and night” but I mean who wouldn’t. And that cool little scar on your eyebrow. Frfr. Even whenever you smiled, i felt happiness. I want to lock arms and hug you so much because it felt soft and tender, like one of those super plush comfy ass blankets.

I want to tell you how connected it feels when we are together, how our bond made everything in the world feel just right and safe, like nothing bad could ever happen as long as it’s us. That I wouldn’t have understood or known what a soulmate is if it wasn’t for you, and that you are the purest definition of true love to me.

I feel like if I keep going I’m gonna end up sounding repetitive so ima end it off here cus ….. Even after all this time, I still believe, I still hope, and I still have faith, that it’s you and I.

I really want best for you. I want you to shine and prosper. I want you acheive and accomplish everything that your heart desires. I want all your prayers to be answered, and for you to be blessed. Cus I may not deserve anything, but you deserve everything. And I will go above and beyond for you. Anything and everything for my Queen.

Forever And Always

[pcktknife]

is bna worth watching? i was planning on it and then i saw the ask about antisemitism and stuff

I’m gonna explain what happens in that part of the episode because I don’t want to just gloss over this and say “yeah go watch it anyway” despite knowing that this insensitive scene does exist in a major piece of the shows plot. This is obviously going to contain spoilers for the show ,but i still advise you read it as a warning for the heavier themes that the show goes into with disrespect for actually real life events. trigger warning for mentions of the holocaust, as well as antisemitism.

BNA Story Summary

“Set in a world where humanoid animals known as beastmen exist, the series follows Michiru Kagemori, a normal human who one day suddenly turns into a tanuki beastman. Running away, she seeks refuge in Anima City, a place set up for beastmen to be able to live as themselves, and meets a wolf beastman named Shirou Ogami.” 

[OP’s chime in: BNA takes place in a world where oppression occurs between humans and beastmen, and becomes a strong underlying theme as you watch it, especially towards the end.Episodes 7-12 especially.This theme (op’s opinion) seems to intend well supporting an anti-discrimination,anti-eugenics,anti-systematic oppression message, but fails to do it well at times. I’ll be going over a section of episode 8 here.]

Some clarifications

I’m black and by no means Jewish, so I’m only going to be giving the summary for this piece of the episode, rather than try to excuse it’s implications, everything I go over should be directly from the show’s english dub/english subtitles instead of my own opinions. It would be greatly appreciated and encouraged if a Jewish watcher gave their own opinion on the matter.

The mayor of Anima City (a mole rat beastman) explains, to Michiru, the history of the animal god beastmen worship called Ginrou/The Silver Wolf, who she has just discovered is the secret identity of her “caretaker”, Shirou Ogami.

(Timestamp 14:56) The mayor tells Michiru,from Shirou’s perspective that one thousand years ago, in an European city called Nirvasyl, lived a city of beastmen. Shirou lived here, at the time, as a normal wolf beastman. Beastmen and humans coexisted in a friendly manner, until one day humans attacked the beastmen completely unprovoked.The humans eventually wiped out all the beastmen, including Shirou, and left their bodies to rot. A mysterious event occurs [It appears as if Shirou’s corpse gains abilities and strength from the souls of the fallen beastmen] and he reincarnates as the Silver Wolf God. Shirou then looks to kill the general who led the attack on the beastmen to avenge them. Shirou gets revenge on many of the soldiers, killing them, but never finds the general.He then gives up on revenge, not finding it satisfying, and instead vows to protect beastmen kind from human oppression and help guide them to new promised lands, presumably for safety.

tw: holocaust mention, antisemitism

The mayor switches story perspectives, now telling it from her own when she first met Shirou/Silver Wolf, as what can visually and verbally be seen as a Holocaust victim.

In Europe, at the end of WW2 some countries analyzed beastmen’s abilities in order to find a way to use them as biological weapons. In those countries beastmen were rounded up and put into internment camps [Called prisons in the english dub] and experimented on.[In this scene, the mayor is a child wearing baggy pajama-like clothing similar to Holocaust victims. She sits on a crate in the corner of a cell, where instead of prison bars there is something more akin to barb wire fencing.There is a shadow and the camera cuts to 2 soldiers knocking a beastman to the ground in front of the cell.] The Silver Wolf appears and attacks the soldiers, then rescues the beastmen from the cages,including the young mayor. Upon seeing the experimented on beastmen, the Silver Wolf massacres those who worked in the lab. Since then, Shirou had not turned into the Silver Wolf. (Timestamp 19:06)

If any clarification is needed on the scene, feel free to ask.

[maiji]

Process and wip images for A House That Holds Long Limbs (Parts 9 and 10 - completed)

Previous process and wip documentation: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Parts 6 and 7 / Part 8 

Read the pages here: Part 9 and Part 10 (full complete version is linked from YYH North Bound master post)

Hard to believe this is finally done! Long Limbs nets out at 108 pages including the cover, plus some extra drawings (and also a whole other comic and other illustrations I did in between the various parts). Here’s a summary:

Part 1: timestamp on final images posted are Dec 16-17, 2017 (11 pgs)

2: Dec 23, 2017 (10 pgs)

3: Jan 8, 2018 (10 pgs)

4: Jan 20, 2018 (12 pgs)

5: Feb 3, 2018 (14 pgs)

6: Feb 24, 2018 (12 pgs)

7: Mar 3, 2018 (6 pgs - would have been completed/posted with part 6, but was getting too long)

8: Mar 17-18, 2018 (13 pgs)

9: Jun 3, 2018 (10 pgs)

10: Jul 8, 2018 (10 pgs)

Based on the above, I should have been able to draw the comic in less than 8 months, even considering how slow I generally work and how frequently I get distracted by other things (Genjimonogatari series, the Hokushin Boyfriend project, etc. etc.). As you can see, I took a very conscious break to focus on other things (mainly Now Recharging, work, and conventions) after Part 8.

For this final behind-the-scenes, I’ll start as usual with script and thumbnails. Then I’ll do an overview of the main changes with a particular focus on opportunities and challenges that arise from having taken such a long break, and close with a quick look at the original story idea for comparison to where things ended up. 

Script

Thumbnails

That text in the script about “writing like serpents” should be “WRITHING like serpents”... sigh. Doesn’t really matter since in the end they just hang there all chillaxed on Hokushin lol

(Also as you can see, I voted in the Ontario elections!)

Main changes

The best thing about taking long breaks on a project is that it really gives you a fresh set of eyes and more objectivity when you come back to it. It helped a lot with editing - ditching stupid things, stripping out pointless dialogue, and finessing phrasing. 

Originally there was more conversation between Raizen and Hokushin when they reunite - but it was mainly explanations from Hokushin (e.g., “OMG this guy is keeping rokurokubi body parts in the house, we gotta find him blah blah blah”) but then I was like, who the heck cares, we already know what happened. Skip and just show the end result.

Originally the Collector was fleeing from the house after Raizen appeared. When I came back to it, I thought this was pointless and kind of disjointed, so I just had him outside the house and then being surprised that his shikigami was gone, so that Raizen’s presence would be more of a surprise.

In the confrontation with the Collector, Hokushin originally spoke directly to the psychic in a manner similarly condescending to how the man had been speaking to him. But when I reread it, it didn’t feel right for Hokushin’s personality. In the final version, he simply doesn’t deign to address the Collector at all, and instead speaks only to the dead rokurokubi.

Raizen’s final line gave me a super hard time, and went through several iterations from what’s in the script to what you see on the final page. I literally made the final decision on the wording while scanning.

The downside about taking long breaks on a project is that you really have to work hard to restart your motivation.

Also, I forgot how to draw the Collector and I had to keep looking at old pages lol... Actually, this always happens to me with things I designed. My problem is that I’m too lazy to make proper references for myself. (I have this problem with Now Recharging too lol)

Part 9 final pagination and thumbnails are pretty close - I mainly stretched out the part where Raizen’s aura takes the Collector down to the ground for less choppy pacing.

Part 10 pagination is essentially the same, but the panelling on each page changed a lot more. There was too much action and too many hands and just a mess all around with my poor planning skills. I really dragged this part on for a long time because I didn’t want to draw the hands...

Part 9 last page had some cropping done. Below is the original:

You’ll notice the final version is much more closely cropped. Zooming in created stronger visual impact to me and just worked a lot better in terms of how the moment is framed.

Part 10 page where Raizen tells Hokushin his auro has grown stronger - I actually started this page with everything facing the opposite direction (e.g., Hokushin facing the right instead in the panel where he is praying, and in the last panel) but then swapped it. I still can’t decide if I actually prefer this orientation or not. But it’s done now so WHO CARES

The original story idea

What I had jotted down about 1 year ago:

Idea: human taxidermist who collects demons, does “tests” on them, then kills and stuffs them

Hokushin stumbles upon it somehow and the human wants to add him to the collection because male rokurokubi are so rare

He mimics the human’s voice to trick servants into releasing him?

Use of blood seal paint to bind limbs so that Hokushin can’t extend them - and maybe also prevent him from speaking too since the mark is on his next

Raizen saves him or something lol

Then Hokushin eats the taxidermist

It’s funny to go back and see what stayed the same and what evolved over the course of working on the story.

I don’t remember where the taxidermy idea originally came from. My guess is I was trying to make this as potentially horror as possible, likely from memories of reading Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service or something. But then the whole idea of taxidermy during the Kamakura period became a huge research problem (basically I couldn’t find anything I felt like I could work with, and TBH was rather unrealistic anyways... although this whole thing is technically unrealistic), and I dropped it.

Otherwise, you can see the core components are in place - a human who collects demons, the significance (rarity) of male rokurokubi, the blood seals, the mimicry, Raizen’s rescuing, eating the human at the end. It definitely went through quite a bit of thinking and reworking before it settled into what it is right now, mostly (I think) for the better.

Thanks so much for following along! Hope you guys found this documentation at least a little interesting and helpful for your own creative works :D

[mistedfence]

So the last few days were a fuckin nonch for animation. Helped my sister shop a bit for college yesterday, and spent the day before that looking at a ton of stuff about the Note 9 bc its about time for my mum n I to upgrade phones, and I really want something to help me practice color and composition on the fly (and trying in general to create more or less finished pieces bc holy shit I’ve lost that ability). Parentheses relevant because I finally resolved tonight to all nighter or die. This is partly because I agreed to meet a friend for brunch at the overpriced cafe we hella like, as a reward for going hard on studying/working (we’re both about a 2/10 here, funnily enough on his end because he’s normally a powerhouse). 

It’s also partly because I more or less got closure with a hella close friend that I’ve stopped talking to, where before we’d talked for like 5+ years or so about series creation and all sorts of stuff about life; basically we’re still not talking for real, but now less with ambiguous tension and more or less with each other’s blessing to achieve our overarching life goals, as we were sort of distracting each other from doing so. A lot of “more or lesses” in that last titan of a sentence, but it was a rather funky scenario. Even his final statements were mixed as hell in tone, but I looked past that as his general tendencies to just respect that he overcame his bad habit of never getting to the point about a personal relationship. I hope we talk again, when we’ve realized our dreams. It was funny though, because he initially sent a mini paragraph out of the blue with a pretty conclusive feel, and I sent one to acknowledge his content and my own final thoughts, but then he instantly reflexively started just debating my definitions and understandings of stuff and we fell into our usual conversation rhythm before going wait no. My sister called us dumb about this. I really agree with her but for once I legitimately see what we saw beyond this. It’s good to have a friend that cares about you in a greater scope beyond regular conversation or chilling, though of course both kinds are important. I’m still sad about the idea of not talking, but the number of things I’ve realized and grown out of in the few months we spent apart pretty clearly show the necessary aspects of it. Anyway enough about that. My work now is truly what matters.

This logically should be the post where I discuss a bit more about Celestialvania, but my resolve to all nighter actually got me into a bunch of high school old feeling habits that I’ve sorely missed, nearly all related to productivity and real grinds. I want to realize this all nighter, instead of repeating my greatest flaw. Taking a break that ends up turning the beginning of a finally successful attempt into an utter failure. That was a bit vaguely worded. Like, I get myself to try really hard at something, and I finally crack a bit of my total inability to try hard at things, and even if the achievement’s small it just gives me so much happiness and relief that I don’t actually ever get back to it and continue it. Then that just means in my total actual time spent, all I did was this one tiny thing instead of the actual achievement. Now that I think about it my friend actually pretty much called me out on exactly this yesterday as one of the main signs I’ve lost sight of stuff in general. Man. Should follow my own practice and actually hop back to work now. 

Rediscovered good habits:

Sacrifice poofy hair in mornings by showering and then just sitting at desk instead of lying down in bed. Feeling clean and being in clean comfy clothes help me settle into my desk and combat my legendarily infamous (to myself) restlessness. Restlessness is how I usually dont even get to make my biggest mistake/flaw. Seeing something bad after a few moments of effort discourages me and I feel compelled to leave the work area. Comfiness and settling down helps me not stress out (bu yao ji) and surely but steadily work forward. It also helps combat impulsiveness and blind ramming in favor of thought and actual problem solving, which I completely lost sight of by trying to just willpower my way into being good at art (in the bad way). So yeah comfiness factors are nice clothes, and most importantly KEEP MY FAN ON like holy crap idk what it is with energy consumption and self defeating behaviors for me but for some reason keeping the fan on stresses me out about power, and in addition to it keeping me actually comfy it reminds me that something else beyond my body is powering my productivity, I can’t let it go to waste. I guess it’s a sort of externalization or visualization of my decision to spend time in this way. Partly also because it’s like flowy right, so it feels like movement in a way, I guess?

This helps me combat the other part, which I kinda already said about restlessness. This was always my worst flaw though, as it happens both when I mildly succeed or fail at something. Learning to just stay the fuck put, like with piano practice as a kid or homework in my first 2 years of high school, really always trained me because no matter what you’re trying to make a career or genuine quality, whether you enjoy it or not, you’re going to have moments of difficulty. Two parting tenets. One was this incredible craftsman who described his experience with a Japanese woodcarver before their passing, who gave a quote from him about hobbyists only doing a thing when they like to do it, as opposed to craftsman. In the same line, I recently thought about how what a passion really means is how much you still commit to doing something when you’re absolutely sure you fucking hate it. Though that could be really taken in the opposite way too. I’ve felt this for a long time, but I need to reach the point where I would rather do literally anything else in the world than continue being strapped to my chair doing art. Because once I hit that point (and then go past it), once I’ve hit rock bottom, will I finally be connected to the foundation of my goals.

edit: didn’t realize these didn’t have timestamps on them, and i kinda hate my habit of dating before i draw in my sketchbook, so i’ll try to just date at the end of posts now (and in my sketchbook (and in my ps files))

august 8 2019 1:25am