#i would like to thank my employers for taking a chance on me (and possibly not even looking at my icon b/c they are busy and stressed)

[paperstarwriters]

Hey, do you take requests? I loved your Modern Roomate Muriel X Reader fic and I would love a part 2 if you ever felt like writing it <3

Yes I take requests! But it does take a while for me to finish them cause I'm slow and this was no exception lol

thank you for waiting though! and I'm glad you like my writing enough to want more!

For this one I've tried to keep descriptions vague but also I tried to be accurate with Muriel's colors. Though if you can't tell I'm still not exactly confident with makeup lmao. Tbh i can't use it much since I'm prone to rashes, so I don't have much experience lol. Still I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Modern Roommates Muriel x Reader

Warnings: Lots of fluff & Author knows little about Makeup 😅.

Summary: Muriel admits that he has worn makeup before, but under such bad circumstances, you can't help but want to give him a better experience.  More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. He deserves that you think.

Word Count: 3, 640

Part 1 | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist

Painting

"So have you worn make up before?" 

Muriel pauses in making breakfast, turning to face you as you sip at your glass of water at the table. Had he not noticed you come in? He's typically very (annoyingly) good at that. Any chance of preening at your sudden ability to sneak up on your roommate falls flat as he makes a scrunched expression. Disgust perhaps? Or discomfort? You can't tell as he quickly turns back to his cooking, too soon to let you see what exactly he might have felt. 

Thankfully, he graces you with a reply. 

"I... Did before..... For a bit.... For a.... Job." 

Your stomach sinks. 

It's funny how much there is to notice. What you can pick up and understand when you live so closely with a quiet roommate. How a hum can mean a number of things, ranging from a simple yes to, "I think that's kinda dumb but you know what, you do you." or "I appreciate you too much to disagree." And for all that Muriel did not talk to you about his past, he only ever reserves the word "Job" for one job he's had in the past. Everything else is called work. This, you're sure, is better called torture. 

Asra mentioned it once to you before, when you were new roommates and he was far grouchier and colder. Muriel worked a job under some toxic super wealthy frat boy manager doing something violent and unsavory. A boxing ring you sometimes imagined, an assassination job it sometimes sounded like. In desperate need of money he had to do a lot of terrible things. It's a wonder he ever got out without someone chasing him to drag him back in, but well, thanks to the r3d outbreak getting away is way easier when your employers get sick, or when you can feign an illness and leave as the higher ups fear for their lives.

What kind of make up would that kind of job need? Maybe something black around the eyes like they do for the military with their masks? Or was it make up to appear more sick in order to escape?

Muriel sighs as he pushes your plate closer to you, startling you as you hadn't even noticed it was there. You mutter your thanks before you start eating the eggs and rice he's prepared for you, still trying to chew over what his possible past experience might have been with makeup while you try to chew your food at the same time. The result is tenuous of at best as you run very close to choking on your food a handful of times and miss your mouth once or twice when particularly deep in thought. 

What kind of makeup did Muriel even use?

...What would he look like in makeup?

On that point, what would suit him best? Something dramatic and edgy or emo? Or maybe a pop of colour? Green around his eyes might draw lovely attention to the green within, but a dark eyeliner might as well. What about contrast? Red against green? Wouldn't he look lovely in red? A lingering stain of red on his cheeks, and a bright red stain of red on his lips... Ah how kissable they would be then?

...well, anyone would consider his lips kissable if such plush things were stained a vibrant red...

"Are... Are you done?" Muriel mumbles, eyes diverted to tracing the scuffmarks at the bottom of the wall beside him.

It takes you a moment to realize that your plate is already empty, and a moment longer to realize you had been staring at Muriel for the last few minutes as you daydreamed about makeup. You're quick to rectify your mistake as you redirect your attention to your empty plate, though it takes you another moment to remember that it's your turn to wash them, plucking your plate and his from the table to go and wash.

It's silent for awhile. An anxious little silence wrought with a familiar lighthearted tension. It's more awkward than anything, but someone needs to break the silence, someone needed to say something. If you could just—

"Do you wanna try wearing makeup?" you blurt out. You don't even need to turn to look behind you to see his shocked expression at your offer, maybe even a little bit of hurt or betrayal that you just cannot bear to see. So you keep your eyes on the dishes before you, quickly scrubbing away rice with a sponge as the used pan sits below soaking in the water. "Not any battle make-up or anything, but just something... I don't know... Artsy or something? Something colourful? Something that would compliment your eyes..... Uhm not that your eyes aren't pretty or something—or that you're not pretty without makeup—or that you even need to do this at all haha!" 

Above you the light from the small kitchen's lightbulb is eclipsed by a familiar figure behind you. With a gentle touch of your shoulder, Muriel brings your attention up towards him though he still looks away, avoiding your eyes, as the corner of his lips twitches. You can't tell if he's fighting a smile or fighting a frown. 

"You don't have to, Muriel. It's just an idea..." 

And finally he meets your gaze. "I... No. I... I'd like that. It sounds...nice." 

His eyes wander away from you again, as if ashamed to confess that he'd like to wear make up—though maybe, considering what you've heard about that shitty old job, he is. Maybe his old job was the type to argue that pretty makeup was for the weak and spineless, or maybe he was convinced that pretty makeup was only for the rich and wealthy who came to watch or hire him to fight for them, all while they'd sit so far away and safe and cozy in some plush lounge seat, so far away from the danger and the violence, but getting the chance to watch, and delight in the wretched outcome.

Either case is so awfully sad. Either case only makes you want to doll him up in makeup even more.

Furiously you scrub at the pan, and within a matter of seconds you've scraped off anything that had ever threatened to stick, thoroughly scrubbed at it with soap and set it aside to dry with the plates as you wipe your hands on your shirt and nearly bolt off to your room to search for your materials. Hopefully you had colours that would work well with him. 

It takes you a moment to realize that you're alone in your room, turning with a handful of tools to find no one there behind you, and as you peek out of your door and down the hallway, you find Muriel still standing in front of the sink, staring at you with wide confused and slightly worried eyes. 

"Do you not wanna do it anymore?"

His eyes seem to go even wider for a moment, before he replies, "right now?" 

"Did you want to do it later?"

"I—no....okay!"

And back in to your room you go, this time with the added assurance that Muriel would follow, marked by the faint thud of his feet against the hallway floors.

You dig around for your cleanest brushes, and grab your most trustworthy (and thus most used) brushes alongside it, grabbing something to clean the brushes as you bolt off to the bathroom  to wash your tools, before you return to searching your assortment of tools in search for items that would suit him. The red of one lipstick would look lovely in contrast to his eyes, but a muted dusty pink might look just as pretty wouldn't it? Perhaps a bold black eyeliner, would be a bit much—and maybe a bit too similar to whatever black eye paint they used in the military if he used that stuff, so maybe a brown eyeliner would work a bit better? If you even had one of those... Though maybe brown eyeshadow would be effective enough? Ah but maybe brown wouldn't be as noticeable...

You zip back and forth between the washroom and your tools, between cleaning and searching for colours and palettes rummaging through your rather limited assortment of makeup tools. Having only ever bought stuff for yourself, you didn't really have much outside of your favourite colours or in tones that would suit your skin, but a few older products that you tried and didn't like, or a few palettes with sparsely used colours were surely somewhere within the mix. 

You only pause in your searching as you're pulling your brushes out from the washroom, having dried them off loosely with a towel to go further air dry them beside a nearby fan or in the sun by the window or something, you had been in the middle of deciding when you realized you had forgotten a crucial component. 

"Hey Muriel?" 

He sits up straight at the sound of his name, head snapping away to look out the door, as his hands ball into fists as if bracing for the touch of your brush. 

You can't help but hesitate a bit at the sight. 

"What.....?"

"Oh, uh, you should probably go wash your face, and use some cream on your skin as well. The one in the flat container should be pretty good for most skin I think?"

Muriel nods, still not looking your way as you return to your make up drawers in search for odd colours you only maybe, hopefully had for him.

When the sound of the sink finally shuts off, you take it as your cue to give up. It's an odd assortment of colors—you doubt you'd use that neon shade of green on him, even if green is his colour the brightness might be a bit...off-putting right away, but you have a general colour scheme you can follow using some of the colours on hand. 

Face ever so slightly damp and shiny from the cream, Muriel returns, looking... Anxious to say the least really.

He fiddles with his hands a bit, touching his face almost just as much, trying to wipe away invisible droplets of water, or trying to smooth down the thicker patches of the lotion you let him borrow. 

And again, you find yourself hesitant.

"Are you sure you wanna try this? No shame in backing out. It's easy to put this stuff away." 

Muriel nods, following his silence with a half whispered reply. "No, I'm ..... I'm okay. I want to try...."

You nod, and pulling your first brush from it's little cup, you settle down, and begin to get to work. 

It's a lot of careful maneuvering, carefully dabbing colours onto some places with a brush, rubbing other places with your fingers, before you lean away to check how you're doing. Were the colours too bright? Was that line off? There are a few things that you end up having to scrub off with a makeup wipe, but even with that you're careful of his skin. More important than the colours, more important than the fine lines, you want this to feel... Nice for Muriel. Like he's being pampered. Muriel barely moves through the entirety of it all, but for what little he does it means all the world to you. Silent and unmoving, eyes and mouth closed, Muriel serves as the perfect canvas, only difficult in the fact that it keeps you from seeing whether he likes it or not, if he feels pampered or not. At the very least, you hope it feels nothing like whatever his old job used to do for him. 

Ah, but you can only really hope. 

An orange-red lipstick is the final touch, but your limited supply of brushes are already all packed with colours, and you'd like to —if all possible—keep the things that touched your eyes from going towards anyone—including your own—mouth. 

So you elected a far simpler method instead. You rub your finger against the lipstick bullet, and with your finger to his lips you smudge the colour against his skin. And with a simple touch to his lips, you make him jolt, breaking his statuesque composure, for just a moment before he's still all over again, albeit maybe leaning a little more foreword than before. If he has, it's barely noticeable, and probably caused by that one jolt of movement. His lips are a bit chapped and dry, so it takes a few attempts, but you manage to stain his lips with a suitable amount of colour in your eyes. 

You take a step back to see what you've done, and smile, satisfied at your work. It's nothing special, nothing on the level of some professional in a studio with all the makeup options in the world at their fingertips, but you think that it suits him, and you're proud of that much at least.

"You can open your eyes now." 

You offer him a hand mirror, and let him examine your, admittedly shoddy work. It's not perfect, but the colours look nice you think, though you can't help but wince at the selection a little. You just didn't have a shade of green that would fit him well in your opinion, so you leaned instead into the red colours that you did have. You used the only greens you could find to add a little colour to the inner and outer corners of his eyes, and used a warm orange-y-red lipstick on his lips that turned out pretty dark against his skin, you also smudged the colour a bit along his cheeks as well, as a sort of blush really though if you could you'd like to try to capture that shade of red his face so often blooms. It really isn't your best work, limited as your colour palette was, but....

Well, the way his eyes seem to glitter more at seeing it.... Well, it would make any make up look pretty on him really.

"Can I... Ask for one thing?" 

You blink, surprised for a moment before you're immediately grabbing the makeup wipes again. 

"Sure! Do you not like the colours? Is there a colour that you'd rather wear?" 

His cheeks tint red, and you almost curse yourself for the smudge of dark red on his cheeks, making it harder to decipher that exact shade. Surely you had lipstick in that colour at least...?

"What.... What was the colour of lipstick you were wearing last night....?" 

You pause for a moment, dropping the attempt of colour matching to grab the tube of lipstick from it's place on your table. It was a dark red shade, almost like the colour of blood, a shade you specifically aimed to avoid, hoping that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable. 

"This one? You wanna try it on?" He barely even looks at it before he nods, making you sigh as you bring it closer to him to let him inspect it. "It might look different on your skin than it does on mine just an fyi, so don't be surprised if it looks different okay?" 

Muriel nods again, this time having looked at the lipstick a little more thoroughly. He doesn't react to the colour at all no trace of hesitance or weariness, so perhaps they didn't try to paint him in "blood" or anything dramatic like that. 

With your fingers once again, you press the red colour against his lips, as Muriel leans into your touch this time, eyes closed as he lets you work. The sight of it startles you for just a moment, looking as if he were leaning in for a kiss. 

Your finger slips from it's path, and a smudge of red, streaks away from his lips, but even that looks so.... Pretty against his skin. Like he's been kissed, like whatever lipstick he had been wearing had been smudged by another pair of lips eager to express their affection. 

You hesitate, staring at his lips for a moment before you finally turn away to grab more makeup wipes. When you turn back, Muriel's eyes are already open, already staring at your sloppy job with his lipstick. 

"Sorry I'll fix it. Do you like the colour though?" 

Muriel's eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he looks away, but a grin curls his painted lips, as more colour takes to his cheeks. A resounding yes, then, confirmed by a faint hum. A job well done in your books then, and thus a debt well repaid, for his gentle hand at helping you wash your own makeup off. 

You dab at his lip to wipe away the smudged lipstick, before you begin to pack up your supplies. "Feel free to wear that for however long you'd like, I...." you cut yourself off. The offer to help wash the make up from his face tucked away along with your makeup containers. Muriel helped you to clean off the makeup only because you needed his help exhausted and maybe a little drunk from your night out, but Muriel can surely handle himself. 

When you turn back around, Muriel is staring at himself in the mirror. It's the most you've seen him look in a mirror to be honest. Not including the bathroom, your room seems to be the only one in the apartment with a mirror, and though you've offered to let Muriel borrow your mirror if he needs to, or to help him buy his own, he's staunchly refused your offers. It was a small thing though, nothing that you'd feel the need to press him about. He's covered in scars after all, and you know full well how he feels about those—the whole reason why you let him use a handheld mirror than your full sized one. 

But now, as he holds your little handheld mirror up, to look at his face, you can't help but notice how he traces his own lips with a newfound reverence, fingers dancing along the flesh with the barest touch as if he were worried it would smudge, or wipe away with a mere touch. Yet even then, the corners of his lips are pulled up. Did he like it that much? You make a mental note to buy extra of that colour the next chance you get alongside some green eyeshadow perhaps, though by the looks of if, Muriel seemed to much prefer the lipstick that stained his lips than any of the other colours you've splattered on his face. 

It takes him a few moments, but when his eyes finally flicker up to you, he does so with a smile, that promptly fades into a blushy pout as he realizes your attention. It's a tragedy to see it go, but seeing his lip jut out at the attention is nearly as good. 

"Do you like it?" 

You're startled at his question, for a moment, scrambling for coherent thought to best reply to him. The reply you give in the end makes your own face grow warm, though earnest and true. 

"You look lovely." Even your expression softens a little, as your eyes flit back down to his lips.  Once more, Muriel's face picks up colour again, but try as he might, he can't quite keep the smile from curling up the corners of his mouth at his words. 

"Thank you."

Standing, Muriel fidgets with the mirror for a moment before handing it to you, mouth parting for a moment before he thinks better of it and closes it again. It continues for a moment or two, making him stay longer than you'd expect him to, as he stares anywhere but you. Familiar with the gesture, you wait for him to get his words in order, even as he looms above you while you're half sitting against the ledge of your drawers.

If anything, you take the moment to re-assess your work, recalling all the improvements you fully intended to make if he let you do this again. If you could, you'd use a shade closer to his eye colour as his eyeshadow next time, to bring more attention to the colour there. Or maybe even some sparkles next time? If he didn't mind them that is, it could be a bit irritating to try to clean off sometimes. And maybe next time you'd choose a better shade of blush that would match the actual red to rise in his cheeks. 

And the red of his lips... You're tempted to reach up, to press a finger to his lips once more, if only to feel how plush they were again, if only to give him more of that pretty red that he seemed to like so much despite his past.

And you watch as those pretty painted lips part, as those lovely emerald eyes finally dart your way. You watch as his attention finally turns to you, mouth parted as if ready to speak before he pauses, just for a breath, eyes searching your face for... Something. 

And maybe he finds it. Maybe he doesn't. But in reaction to whatever he sees, just a little bit of that tension escapes his face, shoulders sagging and the faintest curl of his lips gracing his expression. 

"Next time," the spell breaks as he speaks, mouth corralled into a pout once more as his eyes dart away from you, "Next time let me put your make up on for you."

And with that he turns away fingers just brushing against yours as he leaves your room, leaving you to blink and wonder what sort of makeup he knew to apply. 

If anything, at least he seemed to like it.

If anything, you had another reason to feel his fingers against your skin...

[rizsu]

cashier's revenge gojo satoru.

sum. annoying ex!gojo gets his lick back. not beta read !

satoru's existence itself is a warning. is it a harzardous warning? not quite, but it's also not a good one. at this very moment, at this very precised second, gojo satoru is contemplating the consequences of clocking out of work before his shift is up. in his eyes, if it's executed properly, it can work. the only downside would be the possibility of getting fired.

he cannot afford such a tragedy. being a man in today's day and age comes at an expensive cost. one day satoru promises to find AND deliver punishment to whoever created the "men are the breadwinners." motion. he suffers from society's insane capitalism and boy might he just dive into hell. head first, even. perhaps even toes first, if he's feeling special.

satoru's current employment stems from two reasons. not one, not three, but two:

1. his urge to prove that he can be better off without you.

2. getō suguru, someone's that's just as bad as he is, told him he had the chance to do the funniest thing ever.

now, don't mistake him! gojo satoru is not easily influenced ( he is. ) he knows right from wrong ( sometimes. )

prior to him signing up as a cashier, your break-up was mutual. he agreed to let you go and you agreed that you weren't committed to being in a full relationship yet. on his vision, he hated that he had to let you go; his attachment grew and he couldn't go two days without bothering you.

it would've disgusted satoru if he made you stay with him but god he wished you would've done so.

bored and bothered, satoru fiddles with his fingers, unable to find entertainment elsewhere due to his phone's low battery warning.

"if no one enters in the next five minutes maybe i can — fuck," feeling his right eye twitch, satoru exhales a deep sigh. not only did someone enter but that unlucky customer happened to be you, y/n l/n.

his eyes following your body, praying that you magically decided to no longer buy anything. unfortunately for him, he cannot get everything he wants in life. watching you make your way to his position, he chants a line of curses before going into automatic-customer-service mode.

"hi," satoru begins, forcing his sunshine-like smile, "what would you have today? any menu specials?"

"hello! i'd like to have a — oh my god it's you.." stopping mid-sentence, you clutch the strap of your handbag. the odds weren't one hundred but they definitely weren't zero.

'am i a curse or what?' gojo thinks. your expressions most certainly didn't bypass his radar. setting his offense aside, he continues, "i'm sorry, we don't have an "oh my god it's you" on the menu!"

"sorry, i'll have the daily special," counting the money needed, you wait for him to finish his cashier duties.

"that'll be ten dollars and ninety-nine cents," satoru says, raising his hand to collect the money. for some rather peculiar reason, it seems as though a twenty dollar bill is stuck on its owner's hand.

"miss, please let go of the bill."

"whatever do you mean?"

scoffing, satoru yanks the bill out of your hand. he watches as you twist your face into disgust and shake your hand off. he's sorry, really, but he has to put himself first at times.

—

although satoru was set on escaping early, he now has a reason to stay longer. going out of his way to deliver your meal, satoru sits in front of you. he has the plot and the platform.

"here's your meal, bill, and change," sliding everything to you, he sits with folded arms. this position means business. formal business.

"thank you — but what are you doing there?" you question him, squinting your eyes at his choice of movement.

"don't question me. how have you been though?"

pulling out your fries, you tilt them to his direction, offering them to him. "i've been wonderful, you?"

"my life has been fine. i've recovered ever since you broke up with me," taking a single fry, he shakes his head as he munches.

"that's crazy but why're you even here?" you couldn't contain your curiosity.

"ever since you broke my heart, i needed to get my life back." gojo takes two fries this time, munching them in sadness.

"ah, i see." you reply.

"it's amazing that you can see ever since you broke up with—"

"do NOT finish that sentence." glaring at satoru, you shut down his pity party. whatever he has going on needs to stop.

"you stop me from doing stuff the same way you stopped my heart ever since you —" satoru tries to finish but was met with a burger being shoved in his mouth.

smiling to himself, he compliments himself as he managed to annoy you. satoru can only thank the gods that you don't despise him. even if you do then that's a problem for someone else.

on your side, you're regretting handing over your burger to him. you were sure that breaking up with him will cause a broken heart but it seems like someone's doing fine. taking a sip from your drink, you look at satoru who's happily eating your food. 'he looks cute' you think.

"satoru," you speak up, redirecting his attention from the burger and onto you.

"hm?" he hums, wiping away the sauces on his face.

inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare before asking him, "wanna come over tonight?"

satoru's mouth shaped like an 'O', he thinks for a while before agreeing, "i'd love to — especially after you broke up with me."

"i swear i will kill you, satoru."

[rq-producerperson]

Hello!

Basic question: any tips for getting into a career involved with creative stuff? (Anything, but specifically audio design and writing.)

Additional information about my specific situation I suppose: I'm heading into my second year of college, and have been working towards getting my degree in anthropology with the hope of going into artifact preservation/restoration. However that's kind of always been a... Second priority, I suppose, as I've always wanted to make a living off of my writing, but assumed that even if that was really possible, I should get a degree in something else.

Last year at school I was working as a stage tech for the college of the arts there (mainly for concerts, not theatre), and I loved it a ton and genuinely wouldn't mind a career in that vein.

The last three months I've been working a shitty assembly line job (9 hour days in a windowless room doing the same thing over and over and over and-). The only plus side to it is I've had plenty of time to listen to stuff, and I've gotten really into Magnus. The Q&A episodes and things like that made me realize that there are other things I could do (and love) in a creative vein than just writing. I'd also never considered that my enjoyment of doing tech for live stuff might translate outside of that, but I really genuinely think it would.

So next year I'm taking a bit of a jump and I'm going to be taking some of the introductory journalism courses at my school. (There's a film and media production emphasis under the major with plenty of room for more fiction-oriented work. And then grad school is something I've been seriously considering since I learned the word anthropology, so that's still very on the table if I choose to pursue this.)

This has been a really big switch for me, and quite frankly I'm terrified of getting stuck at a job like the one I currently have for the rest of my life, with a creative degree just rotting in the corner. (At least with anthropology there would probably be another five+ years of school after undergrad, so that was less of a looming issue.)

Just... Any advice on getting my foot in the door? Especially with hopes of eventually moving out of the states?

Sorry for such a long ask, I'm very bad at being brief. :p

Thank you!

Heya, thanks for the Ask. I’ve had this one sitting for a while thinking of the best way to answer, because the truth is that life is variable so I struggle to give what I feel is meaningful advice when the landscape is always shifting.

However, I’ll do my best with what I know.

The keys that I think are best are Patience, Perseverance, and People.

First, Patience.

I’ve mentioned this a few times but it’s important to remember, life changes quickly and the creative market is constantly shifting. Being able to pursue a job in the creative industry means having the patience to wait for the right wave to paddle to, the right gust to lift you up. But like with nature, there is never a guarantee that the winds or tides of fate will flow your way. There’s an element of chance to it.

You have to be prepared to change and take chances when you feel they are right for you. Shoot out before you’re comfortable and you’ll sink, wait too long and you’ll miss a great wave. I can’t give an answer to when is best to know your ready or what the right chance is to take. I CAN however advise that waiting, watching, and learning is the best chance to take that shot. So, learn as much as you can and stay curious and adaptable.

Second, Perseverance

When you have decided a path to trod, a wave to ride. You commit. Know how to move with the current and keep your focus. It’s easy to keep laying out options, but when you have found that Moment that’s right for you to act on your chosen course, you can go in half way.

Before RQ and during the first half of my employment here I was always working two jobs. I’ve done retail, freelance, post graduate work, office administration, accounting, entertainment hosting, you name it. I was an office assistant when I started at RQ but quickly knew that even though I couldn’t make money with it (it was still just Alex in a Yurt at that time), I wanted to commit to it, to make that job the best thing I could do, and I kept a simple day job to make ends meet. I got lucky, I found a mentor who taught me how to advocate for myself and that I had a creative voice after spending years being beaten down. But I also had the conviction and perseverance to know there was something worth building on.

And we did that together.

Which brings me to my last point, People.

You hear a lot in the creative industry that it’s “about Who you Know” and that’s true, but not entirely in the way you think. Learn about people, what their strengths are, how they compliment each other. Surround yourself with likeminded people that want to attain the same goal, have the same passions. Breaking through the creative industry cannot be done in a vacuum. Always make sure you have a support network of other passionate, skilled, and dedicated humans.

Don’t know how to meet people? I bet you do more than you think. Fandom was my in, not just from shooting my shot, but for teaching me how to work creatively with others. (I still try to do art companion work with fanfic writers when I can)

So yea, maybe it’s a standard answer or underwhelming, but the truth is there is no magic key. There’s Skill, Luck, Determination, and Community that make these kind of jobs possible.

[saintsenara]

Literary style (rich prose, use of narrative techniques, etc.); strong adherence to the principle of charity (diversity of perspectives/everyone is given the fairest possible shot); thematic focus on death and its effects on the living (particularly, grief); thematic focus on gender; devastating one-liners; emphatically correct Ron Weasley takes; Voldemort having a thing for mirror sex.

thanks so much, pal!

sex/gender/death are in an exclusive triad over here, but what i most appreciate you drawing out here is the principle of charity in writing [also the subject of this meta: fandom is like medicine].

I've seen a lot of posts from villain-enjoyers recently taking against the idea of redemption. and i do get this - there's been such a move in many fandom spaces against any sort of moral complexity in characterisation that i understand the impulse to say fuck it, and enjoy your favourite horrible people as horrible people.

but i do also think that this rejection of theme of redemption often misunderstands the reading that we all owe our blorbos. i think there's a tendency to believe that redemption would require some sort of damascene extraordinariness which would result in the character in question becoming neutered - perfect and soft and lacking the bite which led to us becoming interested in them in the first place.

but not so. redemption can be small, ordinary. it can be accidental. it can sneak up on you. it can exist in some areas of your lives and not others. sometimes little chips of redemption are gradually carved by bringing the man whose parents you murdered cups of tea - and maybe that's not enough to redeem you fully, and maybe it shouldn't be, but it's something - and by him being charitable enough to understand what happened in your life which led you down the path of evil.

one of the real issues with the harry potter fandom [and this is why i am so frequently on my soapbox about how we need to think about the narrative conventions of the series, and how it wants us to do this and how we should work against it] is that far too many people involved in it find themselves on sides. maybe they identify as gryffindors, and therefore fail to offer any of the other houses the nuance they extend to their favourite characters. maybe they think the villains get a bad showing in the series, so they bash the heroes. maybe they loathe a specific character, or ship, or subfandom, and so they dismiss anyone who writes within those confines.

but this is an error. every single character - just like every single person alive - can be interesting and worthy of exploration and worthy of the chance to transcend their canon [and fanon - catch me defending molly weasley against both sirius and percy nation like it's my paid employment] evils if we just give them the chance.

and i'm not just saying this because i have been recently forced to become fascinated by rodolphus lestrange...

i hadn't deeped before now that the 'lord voldemort enjoys watching himself get fucked in a mirror' thing had turned up in more than one piece... and all i have to say is...

[attention-seeking behaviour here]

[katzynia]

I am very interested in smolJay, an unfortunately rare sight in fics - what's in "contractSlade+smolJay" ? Thank you :)

Ah, this is a monster of an idea :D Roughly a year ago I wrote a smol!Jay fic and during writing, it became much fluffier and sweeter than I had planned. Lots of my angstier thoughts/ideas for scenes were kind of leftover. Then, somewhere during spring, I saw a SladeRobin week prompt "Robin hires Slade" (or something, I'm paraphrasing) and that got me really thinking...

What if Jason survived Joker's treatment, and during his convalescence hired Slade to kill Joker when he realizes nobody else would do it (for him)?

Well, the idea ballooned from there. Now that's just the starting act, and the actual story happens in Gotham ~5 years later, when Slade comes to town looking for a possible shipment of Kryptonite rumored to be owned by Black Mask. He runs into Jason Todd and recognizes his one-time employer. Meanwhile, somebody is messing with Black Mask businesses... It's complicated as shit, with identity shenanigans and repurposing things from "Under the Red Hood", family feels, and all that jazz. Honestly, not sure if I can pull that off. At the moment, it's waiting for reinspiration and reconfidence, cause I also feel like all my stories are structured the same way and so I'll have to think about it.

I have ~6700 words written. Here's a snippet (don't mind the typos and the weirdness, it's a first draft)

***

“That’s a gnarly scar, kid,” Slade says. And the funniest thing is that it’s nowhere near the most notable thing about him.

The scar on his left temple is fresh. It can’t be more than a week or so since the stitches were removed. The hair around it hasn’t had the chance to grow back yet, leaving him with a weird and uneven undercut. The scar snakes down, ragged and uneven, all the way to the corner of his eyebrow. His skin is pale and yellowish, the black backs under his eyes a stark contrast to it.

And to top it all off, he can’t be more than fifteen. Based just on his side, Slade would guess even younger, but his voice has certain depth that speaks of maturity. And his eyes. Those eyes have seen some shit. They are the eyes of a person who is not afraid because they’ve been through something so much worse.

Slade can already cross over one of the questions he had.

“He did that to you?” he asks, and without conscious contribution, his own voice becomes gruff too. He doesn’t need to specify who.

The kid huffs, but it doesn’t quite hide a quick flash of resurfacing fear in his eyes.

“I want him dead,” he says, “He shouldn’t be allowed to—after he—” He halts in the middle of the tirade. Slade isn’t sure if he’s trying to swallow the words or try to get them lined up properly. He presses his hands on the table, hard, and takes a breath. Faint pink spots appear on his cheeks. They are starkly visible against the paleness.

“And you want me to do it,” Slade says, after the silence stretches. “Deathstroke the Terminator,” the kid says, “Fair deals. Trustfull--dependable.” He smiles a little, crookedly. “Allows for anonymity.” “What about your other conditions?” Slade says. “I don’t work with restrictions.”

Kid huffs. “You’re the professional, figure it out. You don’t leave unnecessary casualties anyway, and avoiding detection shouldn’t be an issue for you.”

“Except he never leaves Gotham”.

“Except when he does.”

“Do you have a way to track him?”

“No.”

“Which means the most likely location is Gotham. “And if I need to choose? Between letting him go and fighting Batman?”

The boy’s hands clench. Something almost horrible shines in his eyes.

“Let him go,” he says, and it seems like the admission cost him something. He takes a breath and briefly closes his eyes. “I don’t care when or how. Just that he’s gone, permanently, irreversibly, and that nobody finds out. Take your time, for all I care, just end that wretched creature.”

”And if I say no?”

“Will you?”

“Humor me.” The client’s answer to that always reveals a lot. Every job is the most important in the world, until it isn’t and actually Slade is the lucky one for being considered for it, such a privilige it is.

The kid stares at him in silence for a long moment.

“I’d be fucked,” he says bluntly. Slade’s eyebrows shoot up.

“There isn’t anybody of your caliber willing to work in Gotham.” In the boy’s droll tone, it isn’t a compliment, just a fact. Slade had had many clients trying to suck up to him. And it’s the truth: Deathshot is in prison (probably in Walker’s greedy clutches already), Shiva would not agree to a kill like this, and the League of Shadows doesn’t do anonymous (ironically considering their name).

“But you knew that already,” the boy continues.

“No one to do it for you?” Slade asks.

Something moves over the kid’s face. A shadow of anger and sorrow then something like acceptance.

The boy shakes his head. “No,” he says and the expression morphs one more time, into something like determination. “I would need to consider if I’m capable of doing it.”

Slade looks over the injuries. The kid doesn’t seem to steady, swaying a bit even there.

The boy’s smile holds no humor. “I don’t mean physically.”

Some people can’t kill, it’s an indisputable fact Slade has seen true many a times. They can’t do it and still remain themselves. Some would lose some integral part of themselves and never get over it. Some wouldn’t be able to stop once they started, a switch just turning on in their minds.

Something about the boy makes Slade think that he could. He could kill and walk away from it after.

“Alright,” he says. “I will kill the Joker for you.”

***

Thanks for asking!

WIP ask game here

[paimaniagalaxia]

FNAF AU- Clean Up Time

Ship: Springtrap x Self insert

Word count: 785

Summary: The after math of the events of FNAF 1, where a clean up crew is hired by Henry Emily to help refurbish and confiscate the animatronics.

Paige is apart of that clean up crew and decides to leave the rest of her crew mates to finish the job, all the while exploring the rest of the pizzaria. Only to end up in parts and services, to find the one and only William Afton. AKA, Springtrap.

CHAPTER TWO

Help… Never think I would get it for myself. Being trapped in this hellhole for so long, never to seek salvation. But here she was, aiding me and repairing me. I… I never thought I would get another chance at life. But here she was.

That very help.

But would she know who I was? Now that was the big question. If she did KNEW, then that’ll be the end of this budding relationship.

Child murderer, family killer, those aren’t green flags.

Best to play dumb, but not that dumb…

~

“So… Thirty-one years… Didn’t think an animatronic would be stuck in here.” Paige spoke up, breaking the silence between them. As she never recognized who Springtrap was. So that was a sign.

Springtrap tilts his head as he allows Paige to re-tighten its joints. It could feel its arm move. So it starts to lift its arm up and down, showing that Paige did a good job. “Thank you… Tell me, did your employer tell you anything else…? W-Why are you here?” Springtrap asks.

“Just to clean up the Pizzeria and take back the animatronics to my boss.” Paige answers back. But she could feel another question coming.

“Just who’s your boss?”

“Henry Emily…”

Now that name was familiar, way too familiar. How was he still alive?! Springtrap was perplexed as it didn’t like this man. The very man who drove it mad. Springtrap let out a grunt of annoyance.

“Henry… Not a very good man.”

“How do you know…?” Paige asks.

Springtrap freezes, as it didn’t mean to drop that tidbit of information. It huffs as it turns its head to the side.

“He… He wasn’t a good man to be around. Always berating us.”

“That’s not very nice…” Paige comments back as she goes down to Springtrap’s legs to tighten the bolts.

“No. He’s not…” Springtrap remarks back.

Springtrap thinks back as it needed to know why Henry was wanting to clean the pizzeria and take away the main four with him. That didn’t seem right, why care about an old location now? This place would be burnt down if it was in charge. To get rid of the terrible memories that lingered on this place. The mistakes that it made, and put it behind Springtrap.

“Would it be possible for me to speak to him?” It asked.

“Eh?” Paige looks confused.

“Can I speak to him…?” Springtrap asks again.

“I don’t know… I don’t think he would be too happy to speak to you.”

“And how would that be an issue?” Springtrap asks again.

“I… I don’t know. Anything that I’ve asked about his past, he shuts me down.” Springtrap hums before it sees Paige finishes working on it, and slowly starts to push itself up. It grunts as it presses its digits against the wall, huffing and coughing till it was on both of its feet.

“He isn’t good at moving on… Is he?” Springtrap asks.

“No he isn’t…” Paige shakes her head and looks at the door before looking back at Springtrap.

“This might be personal… But pronouns?” She asks.

Springtrap shook its head and looked away. It never felt that it was a ‘he’ anymore. Since becoming who it was.

“It, its…? I don’t consider myself for either masculine or feminine  pronouns…”

“She, they…” Paige answers back.

“Oh.” Springtrap blinks astonished before jerking up to hear screaming and yelling from the otherside of the door.

“Oh shit…”

Paige shakes her head as she stands up to hear heavy metal and bones crunching, muffled from the other side of the door. It made her cringe and hold her arm. Giving a disgusted look.

“What’s going on…? Springtrap?”

“Them.” Springtrap answers sternly.

“Who’s th--” Paige was interrupted as she felt her mouth get covered by Springtrap’s servo. Being held close to its body, being told to keep quiet.

STOMP STOMP STOMP

There were creaking and old parts moving. A low humming noise could be heard. That someone was at the door. As there was a heavy scrapping at the door, like nails on a chalkboard.

Paige had a wide eye look of fear, of who could be on the other side of that door? But she didn’t want to find out, as someone else caught its attention. 

A hiss could be heard before it tramples away to follow the new sounds.

“T-Them?” Paige asks between Springtrap’s fingers.

“Them…” Springtrap remarks back.

The animatronics were on the loose, and one by one-- The crew that Paige came with, were being slaughtered one by one. That soon it’ll be only them. Only them with four killer animatronics that would be out to get them soon enough.

Just two vs four… Not good odds.

[END OF CHAPTER TWO]

[thievescanted]

cal-as-companion..... part the second

Story Specific

MY DOG ALMOST DELETED THIS........ anyway

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

"I don't trust them, but I trust that their interests are aligned with ours - only for the moment. And I'm trusting you to know when to cut and run - although we can't really run from them, can we...? Bit unsettling. But as long as they can work to our benefit, let's let them. Even if I really, really don't like it."

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

"Oh, I don't trust that one any farther than I can throw him. Trust me, I know the type, and getting into bed with his like never ends well. ... Let's see where he's going with this, though."

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

THATS HER BEST FRIEND! i think when theyre both companions they feel theyre like, rivals for tavs protection at the start lmao but if one of them is in charge then that kind of neutralizes that. she would definitely come clean about her situation from the start because she knows he also has a Situation - she offers to keep his vampirism secret in exchange for his secrecy about her death (she doesnt really like people knowing, partially because she feels her employer makes her a liability, and partly because she hates the thought of anyone pitying her)

she also would let him drink her blood, mostly because she's curious about whether her blood would even be consumable (it is, it's quite normal actally, which is more confusing to her really) but also because like. to her it would feel kind of fucked up for her not to help him if shes perfectly capable of helping

i misunderstood this question im realizing now. im not deleting all that though. if he tries to bite her she will be surprised to see him, and push him off pretty harshly; however she'll tell him "you could have just asked, and i would have," and she will let him drink from her

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

before: Definitely not going to help with our particular situation, but I suppose it can't hurt. Or - actually, it literally can. Still, I say give it a try! during: (after the first hit) Shit, I wasn't looking. Can you do it again? after: Well. I think you have to get married now.

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

she's fine with the player doing it! she figures any way they can make themself stronger is a better chance that they all stay alive. HOWEVER she would not want to do it herself - "I barely feel like I'm my own with this thing in my head. I'm certainly not going to feed the damn thing."

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

cal approves of helping the tieflings, and disapproves immensely of helping the cult. it won't cause her to leave, but it will set her approval almost as low as it can get without her leaving. if you side with the cult/the goblins she'll say that she trusts that you have your reasons, but she doesn't really want to know them

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

at the tiefling party: cal will confide that she stole a decent amount of whiskey from the goblin camp and invite you to have some with her. she thanks you for doing all you did to help the tieflings - she hadn't let herself believe she was someone who could do this kind of good. then she'll immediately start gossiping about rolan. she will invite a ftav/durge/origin character to join her for the night if they like (she will then skirt around defining your relationship for. a While. its a bit of an isabela situation) (this would be the players first time seeing her wound (you can see it later in-game if shes not romanced but since shes taking her shirt off to sleep with the character, Well). she feels Complicated about that). if not romanced at the party cal will hook up with shadowheart or lae'zel

at the goblin party: the player can find her pulling grass out of the ground by her tent and piling it up on a blanket. she'll say, "Do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something." she will make it very clear to you that to her you are a "convenient and capable meat-shield" and suggest that you keep it to just business. you can ask to join her for the night and she will say: "What, really? You don't want to look a little farther afield? Can't imagine you'd want to fuck someone who hates you. Unless - what, are you into that kind of thing?"

>On second thought, never mind. Cal: Grand. There's my evening free. Off you go, then, I've very important business to conduct here. > And if I am? Cal: Well, I suppose I can't say I haven't wondered. Let's get that out of our systems, then.

pursuing that will close off her romance entirely though lol.

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?

if lae'zel: Soo... you and Lae'zel seem quite friendly tonight. Friendly as I've ever seen her, anyway. Just, uh, don't get too bruised up - busy day ahead of us tomorrow and all. if gale: So is Gale going to show you some magic tricks? Going to learn some useful applications of ray of frost? Are you two going to fuck, is what I'm asking. In case that wasn't clear. if shadowheart: You and Shadowheart seemed pretty cozy together just now. Leave some room for Shar, will you? I'm afraid her lady may smite you both. if astarion: Didn't think that one had the capacity to be interested in anyone that wasn't him - wonders never cease, eh? I'd make sure he's had something to eat before you get up to anything, though. Manslaughter does dampen the mood of a party. if wyll: Saw you talking to Wyll earlier. You left him looking rather more cheerful than he's been all night - good on you. I don't suppose you could lure him a little closer to the party? We're short a dance partner. (cares about him, is annoyed about it) if karlach: Karlach seems positively taken with you, you know. It really is a shame you can't really get to know each other. Still, you two have fun... talking all night, or whatever it is you can do. Sounds terribly romantic. Eugh.

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

Cal: Hey, so, uh. Not to put too fine a point on it or anything, but remember when I told you about how I died? And how that was kind of a traumatizing thing for me? And then you killed me? No no, it's fine, I'm not mad. (note: shes mad but holding it together) I'm just disappointed. Next time - and I know there will be some kind of next time - maybe just... warn me? A little heads up?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

Cal: So... does it taste bad... or good...? I'm getting some mixed messages.

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Cal: I want you to know I've always hated you. And if he tries to do any close-up magic near me I'm killing him.

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed? How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

YEAH she can be. ive been toying with the idea that cal had been killed by bhaalists, so i think orin would like the idea of having her back

the pc will wake to find cal watching them. when they wake, cal will tell them that she's been thinking about what gortash said, about orin having infiltrated the camp. that she thinks she knows a way to prove that you're both yourselves - she'll show you a couple knives and suggest that making a shapechanger bleed might reveal its true form ("I'm only talking a gentle stabbing, nothing too bloody.") if you refuse she'll reveal herself as orin; if you go along with it she will in fact stab you pretty hard. orin will tell you that "Callie-girl is safe with me" and propose her whole deal to you, whereupon she'll add that "She's marked for us, so it might be difficult to let her go."

when you free cal, she tries to put on her usual unbothered facade but she will be pretty clearly shaken

Cal: Gods, it's you. It-it is you... right? Fuck. No, I'm alright, I just have about fifty more mental images about how I might die, courtesy of Orin. Let's get out of here? Please?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

if astarion is ascended: Shit. He really did it. And we... let him. Helped him, even... I guess the choice is made and there's nothing for it. Still, I just hope he's still... you know, him. if astarion remains a spawn: I wasn't sure he would be able to turn down all that power. The guarantee that you'll be truly safe, that you won't have to die again... It's a lot to walk away from. ... Not that I've thought about it extensively or anything. Anyway I'm proud of him really, but don't tell him so.

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

cal will nottt take the astral tadpole ("I just don't think I have a face for tentacles") but she won't object to a PC that chooses to take it for themself. if romanced, she'll confess that she's a little uneasy about the prospect of you changing, but that she knows you'll stay you, and she trusts you

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

Cal: Well that's, uh... Shit, you're telling the truth, aren't you? I mean, you did always kind of strike me as worryingly good at killing, so I guess that makes a weird sort of sense. Wait, you haven't thought about killing me, have you? (if playing a female character): I mean, it'd be fine if you have. Wouldn't hold it against you, like.

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

well she does not like it i can tell you that much! she will disapprove when you say you don't remember, but she'll take your word for it and compared to like, wyll or karlach shes less horrified Cal: Let's just... save the murderous intent for people we don't like, yeah?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

well unfortunately. due to how she is as a person. i think she would be a little into it initially. when she wakes to durge holding a knife to her throat, her first instinct is to sit up and kiss them, at which point they can tell her shes in danger.

Cal: Shit, sorry. It's the, uh. Adrenaline. Wait, danger? Were you actually going to kill me?

she will tie durge and sit with them through the night, responding fondly to their threats ("Aww, promise?") and encouraging durge to come back to her ("I know you're in there, and I know you're more than this. When you fight your way back to the surface, I'll be here. That's love - you showed me that.")

[otemporanerys]

Snippet Sunday / WIP Whenever

thanks to @cr-noble-writes for (a few) tag(s)! tagging @misseffect @diaphanouso @kalliesa and whoever else wants to play! In the interest of not spoiling too much from my upcoming chapters, let's go for a Cobas and Miranda flashback from Life Behind Enemy Lines CW: mentions of infertility

---

Cobas wiped the water from his mouth. “How long until extraction?”

“Another eighteen hours,” Miranda said, “if there’s no trouble.”

Lots of time to kill. Luckily last night had been pleasant: if they hadn’t been compatible, it would be a long time to sit and stare at the wall. It had been a risk, really, to take him to bed before she’d confirmed how long they’d be stuck here – she knew perfectly well how quick men could turn – but maybe there was a part of it that had been personal. After all, the last few years had been taken up with dates with human men, cajoling them out of their condoms, the anxious waiting for weeks afterwards. It had been an age since procreation hadn’t been on her mind.

Maybe she wanted the first time after all that mess to be one where, even if everything worked the way it should have, pregnancy was an impossibility.

“First time with an alien?” Miranda asked, as she sipped at her water. “Asari on shore leave,” Cobas replied. (That was probably the polite answer: from what she’d researched on the cabals, he’d likely been trained for intimate missions with all sorts of people. For all she knew, he might be working her.) “You?” “Yes,” she replied, truthfully. “Not for any lack of interest: just circumstance.” Cobas’ mandibles flared in a grim sort of smirk. “Can’t suppose you have much dealing with aliens, given who your employer is.” “It’s actually something of a specialty.” Miranda moved to the rickety kitchen table, pulled out a seat for him, then took her own. “What you should understand about Cerberus –”

“0600 hours, and already the sales pitch,” Cobas said. But he did sit down.

“People think it’s all about chauvinism, and while I can’t deny that there are plenty of people in our organization who hate aliens, the Illusive Man isn’t like that.” Neither, for all his faults, had been her father. “Imagine if you were in our position. We poke at Relay 314 and find on the other side, a whole network of civilisations much more sophisticated and advanced than our own. Wouldn’t you give anything to be able to catch up?”

“We shared our technology.” “And imposed your own rules. How many lives has medigel saved, even in the last three decades? That research is illegal under Council law: if we hadn’t already cracked it before first contact –”

Cobas raised his hands. “You won’t hear me defending the Council, but extremism is extremism. And you can’t deny that you’re very extreme.” That was always the big barrier. “You’re black ops. You know what it takes to get things done.” “I was black ops.” Cobas leaned back in the chair. “I finally got out, and now you want me to dive right back in, for a cause I don’t even believe in?” Miranda felt the slight prick of a caffeine withdrawal headache behind her temple. Clearly she needed to change tack. Was it time to break out the big guns? Cobas had been on the Citadel when Commander Farvardin fought Saren, and he was clearly dissatisfied with the official story. The truth was unbelievable, but if anyone was going to be receptive, it’d be him. Of course, there was always the chance that he’d go running back to the Hierarchy with intel in hand. She didn’t think he was a double agent, but only a fool would dismiss the possibility. But if he was, there were only three outcomes. One, they’d assume Miranda was a lunatic, which was neither here nor there; two, they’d assume Cobas was a lunatic, which would drive him closer to Cerberus; and three…

They’d believe him. And prepare.

“The truth is, Cobas,” she said, wrapping her hands around an empty glass, “soon you won’t have to imagine what it’s like to be hopelessly at a disadvantage. We have an enemy approaching that will make the combined forces of the Milky Way look like idiot children.”

[fallout4-reacts]

Thank you for finishing my request! Your the best, and I hope you have clear weather and no traffic in your life.

Tbh, there’s still MacCready, Preston, Piper and X6-88

But thank you, I hope that respect the companions

Good weather and no traffic? Noted, I will not approach Toronto 🤣🤣🤣

Anonymous asked: Can I request fallout 4 companions (and Maxson if possible) reacting to sole getting infected with FEV but they’re not a super mutant yet. Like, there’s that spot if time after infection where sole is still relatively human but symptoms start happening (the paranoia, hardening skin, pain etc)

Part 4 (final) (1 - 2 - 3)

MacCready / Preston / Piper / X6-88

It's time to celebrate the triumph; the Institute has been blasted to the ground, and everyone is overjoyed. Then a voice emerges over the fray, a voice that Sole is all too familiar with. Justin Ayo's voice.

"Sole! You annihilated what I had spent my entire life defending! You ruined my home, family, and dreams. And you think you're going to get away with it?"

Sole's companion reacted quickly, raising their weapon at the former director of the Synth Retention Bureau, but even if they killed him instantly, it wasn't until he shot a syringe gun at Sole.

The companion turns to Sole, horrified to realize that the syringe contained... the FEV

MacCready : He takes a hesitant step back, aiming his sniper rifle at his employer.

"B…boss?"

Sole stares at him in horror, smashing the vial in their hand that they had just removed from their chestplate.

"Mac? What exactly are you doing?"

"With all due respect, Boss, do you know you're gonna turn into a super-mutant?"

Sole sadly shakes their head.

"In three days. This is the average time it takes for the virus to infect humans and turn them into... monsters."

MacCready blinks open his eyes in amazement.

"How do you know all of this?"

Sole sighs quietly, brushing imaginary dust across their forearms as if it might make the lethal substance coursing through their veins vanish.

"Virgil. The Institute's work. I read about it."

"But then, have there been studies?" MacCready jumps right in. "Is there a cure?"

His provider shakes their head sadly once more.

"Virgil could heal, but he had the tools and the means to do so. I seriously doubt it—

"We'll figure it out! You assisted me in saving Duncan; I will assist you in saving yourself!"

Sole would like to explain to MacCready that determination alone will not sufficient, but he is obstinate. He refuses to listen to what he categorizes as defeatism. The mercenary then led them across the Commonwealth in search of Virgil. The voyage is far from over, as Sole's symptoms worsen over time. The first day, it translates into frustration and rage, but Mac responds with tac-o-tac without hesitation, pinning the beak to the other more often than not. Then the pain, spasms, and resentment transformed into rage.

They made camp in the Glowing Sea's radiation-free basement. They'll arrive in Virgil's cave the next morning. MacCready nods off with assurance.

But he doesn't find Sole the next morning. Their sleeping bag is completely empty. Mac scoured the region, but the radiation will fry him before he finds his boss.

He sighs regretfully, comprehending.

Sole had told him that they had a slim probability of finding a cure. They must have become discouraged over the night, and Mac failed.

No! He hasn't yet failed! Mac breaks camp and summarizes his journey. He had gone too far, had vomited too much as a result of the radiation, to concede defeat. He made it to Virgil's cave and requisitioned the scientist... even stretching all of his purse's caps... And Virgil got right to work.

To make the Sole-specific serum, he uses DNA samples provided by Mac, and after a few weeks, he has created a few vials that can be armed with a syringe gun.

"You're not going to get a thousand chances. How will you know it's your pal you're injecting?"

"Believe me. A MacCready can be obstinate."

Several weeks later, the mercenary and some companions finally meet at Sanctuary's bar. Preston couldn't stop himself from asking MacCready to repeat the anecdote.

"... too busy tearing this deathclaw's jaw to notice me, but I had seen them. It's not like every super mutant in the Glowing Sea was decked up in blue and yellow stripes. And, hey... It's not like super mutants would run the Glowing Sea at the bottom. So I aim the pistol properly at them because I want to make sure the vial spreads properly, but this moron then bends in to get their little monster's tongue, and that's how the syringe got up in the butt!"

Everyone laughs again, except Sole, who has just heard this story for the twentieth time in three days, both in Diamond City and here. But they can't help but be happy and relieved to be themselves again. They're not about to forget their weeks as a super-mutant.

—and MacCready isn't about to let them forget they own him any time soon.

Piper : She sobs uncontrollably. Nobody knows who tears more between Sole and her. They both end up kneeling in each other's arms on the ground. Sole eventually managed to calm down and stare at her through the tears.

"You will have a hell of a story, recounting every step of the super-mutant transformation."

"How could you!? How dare you think such a thing?"

But, in the midst of her rage, offence, and grief, Piper begins crying again. No, she will not write a new article. If she does write one, it will be to recount Sole's victory over the infection.

…

Yes! That's it!

"We will find the cure!"

Sole has objected and attempted to reason with Piper, but she is like a track dog who sniffs out a scent and refuses to budge. She leaves Sole at the Home Plate to rest before crashing into Nick's agency like a tornado. She grills him on everything he saw or heard while travelling with Sole in the Glowing Sea or about the Institute. She spends every minute building the case, combing through every trace, pondering intently, and arriving at a conclusion that, although not wholly pleasing, is better than nothing.

She returns to the Home Plate and discovers that it has been completely ravaged.

Piper's heart sunk when she realized what was going on. The symptoms began to appear.

"Wow! You've done a fantastic job cleaning in here! But, okay, we'll pick up later; we need to get going. I'd heard of a crazy scientist who had collected the wreckage of the Institute's labs and was working on a viral cure—

But Sole merely shook their head. " It's too late now, Piper. I can feel it permeating my body."

Piper, on the other hand, refused to give up.

'No way, pig head. We'll join him and assist him with his homework. We're going to change your fate, this maniac, you and I!'

They don't have far to travel or far to look. The maniac in question is none other than Virgil, who has relocated to Greenetech to pursue his virus research. He wouldn't say no to a little assistance or a guinea pig. Sole isn't overly enthused, but Piper is.

She combed through medical periodicals, spoke with Virgil about each entry that felt becoming relevant to her. The scientist is pleasantly surprised by her ability to locate the nuances that matter among the vast amount of data at their disposal.

But as she and Virgil progress, things aren't looking good for her pal. Sole's condition deteriorated by the day, and time was running out. Piper watched as her companion steadily morphed into something unrecognizable, but she refused to give up because she knew she was their only hope.

They arrived at the solution just as Sole completed their change. Piper is the one who uses the seryngue gun to shoot her pal. Yeah, since the Super-Mutant that Sole has become is no longer willing to be treated...

Nothing happened for a few anxious moments, and Piper's heart fell. But, gradually but steadily, Sole began to alter back.

Piper's eyes welled up with tears as she saw her pal revert to their former selves.

Sole is jolted by excruciating spasms, but as the treatment courses through their veins, they notice that the metamorphosis has been reversed. They shake their head, returning to reality.

"How, though? It took Virgil several days."

The scientist gives a small smile.

"I'd been transformed for a long time, so it was a big deal. But also, thank to your thoughtful friend. The information she gave me enabled me to create a considerably more effective serum. Soon, I'll be able to find a generic cure for all super-mutants!"

Piper returns his smile, pleased to have been able to save her companion.

"I can't imagine life without super mutants. May I schedule an interview?"

Preston : "Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright."

It's understandable that Preston is terrified. It's simple for someone who knows him well. He yells orders, one arm around Sole to support them. The Minutemen clean up the area so that no one else at the Institute may threaten those who are still there. But Ayo was by himself. That alone is a source of relief. Preston returns to Sole and stares at the point of impact.

"It appears that the armor resisted. I doubt the virus has made its way to you. Everything will be alright."

Sole realizes Preston has gone into denial at this point. They are aware, without a doubt, that the syringe penetrated the armor and infected them with the virus. They try to persuade Preston, but his colonel shakes his head.

"To be sure, we'll inject you with antibiotics. But I assure you, you will not become a monster."

Preston made that assertion as if it were true, and his General was taken aback. They allow themselves to be dragged to Sanctuary's hospital. There are assembled the most capable doctors Sole could locate during their travels. Preston promises Sole that they will look after him. Everything will be OK. In the waiting room, he whistled while Virgil and Curie inspected his General.

Preston seemed to be refusing to accept what Curie and Virgil are trying to tell him, despite the fact that something is different. As the hours pass, Sole becomes increasingly irritated. Then they fold in half in pain from time to time. The following day, their skin begins to harden.

The stress is unbearable to endure. Preston determines that Sole needs a vacation.

"Perhaps we should go to the castle. The sea was said to be beautiful this time of year."

"PRESTON!"

Sole no longer has the patience. They no longer have the control. When the man passes them, smiling on his lips and gaze into the wave, thinking of the sea and the sun, they punch their fist into the wall in front of Preston. His subordinate takes a slow look at them.

"Yes, General?"

"Don't dare to tell me you don't understand what's going on!"

"I get what you're saying, General. I completely understand. I understand that in two sunsets, I'll have to fire a bullet in your brain to keep you from turning into a monster. I get it. I understand that everything we've built in the last year will crumble. I get it. I realize that the sliver of hope that I had managed to resurrect in my life has simply slid through my fingers. I get it. Do you truly need me to collapse with you?"

And he dares to say it while smiling. The shoulders of Sole are sagging. Indeed. Preston is aware. Preston had a better understanding. With a long, agonizing sigh, they bring their fist back to themselves and wrap an arm around Preston's shoulders.

"So, is the sea really exquisite?"

X6-88 : He failed. He let Sole down. He failed, and Sole will now become a super mutant. He failed on every level. He couldn't defend Sole, and he couldn't reconcile Sole with the Institute before that. Because the Institute most likely could have saved Sole. Nothing can save him now. The Courier moves his gaze away from Ayo's lifeless body and lifts his gun against Sole.

"Please accept my apologies, Ma'am/Sir. Thank you very much for everything you provide me."

And then he shoots. He fires without a second thought. It's unnecessary to have it. He knows what is going to happen; why prolong the agony? Protests erupt all around him as he watches Sole drop on the ground, as lifeless as Ayo. He was able to relieve their suffering. Sole will have no time to panic, suffer, or transform into a nasty, uncontrollable monster. They will not have had time to notice the others' grief and sorrow in their eyes.

And now the others are looking at him with hatred in their eyes. They don't get it, foolish. But X6 did what had to be done. They might get it one day. X6 will not see the sun rise that day. He could survive because he could kill their companions. But he's not going to. He will not destroy what Sole has created.

He stands proudly, taking on the role of the villain with phlegm. The other people with him don't show any more hesitation than he does.

His final thought is whether Sole was correct when they said he had a soul. He wishes to join Sole in the Great Infinite in order to continue serving them faithfully.

[chaoticgeminate]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Twenty Two

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (If that was not entirely clear)

Series Summary: You’re a fanfiction writer turned novelist, which was great since it was the path you wanted your writing to take you down in life. What you never thought would happen was meeting the Javier Gutierrez, who you actively write smutty fanfiction about from his film with Nic Cage, and you especially didn’t expect him to have a crush on you.

Fast forward several months of dating, with a good chunk of your relationship being distance due to his constant traveling and having to go home to Mallorca, when he surprises you with a prompt list and a vacation planned around exploring it.

You haven’t even worked up the nerve to tell him about what you write and post to Tumblr about him as a character yet.

Notes: Going to be using prompts from @the-purity-pen for my meta as hell indulgence! There are feelings in this (I have no idea how they got there) and I may end up removing some possible chapters here and there depending on how I’m feeling, I apologize in advance if that happens because my brain is super mean sometimes.

Possible Warnings: Smut, Phone Sex, consent discussions

Phone Sex (1.5k)

It had been an emergency flight.

Javi had apologized profusely about interrupting but there had been some issues with the olive business back in Spain and the vendors were refusing to budge if Javi didn’t make an appearance, likely tied to Paulina and her brother but you had no clue since even Javi had been in the dark about any problems happening.

He left yesterday, after you two fucked like rabbits in his study, and you’d been writing notes and blurbs and tidbits of ideas for new fics or even new concepts for your novel series. The inspiration of this place, of this month, was unreal and you were glad you had prioritized time with Javi over everything.

Even notes in your phone had been unimportant compared to just being here with him.

But now that you’d had him at your side for so long, you lived with him and woke up with him, you missed him more. Which was stupid, you had him to yourself -basically- for three weeks and you couldn’t realistically be by his side every waking second of the day.

“I really am sorry-“

“Gabi, hey, I get it. You’re not to blame because the workers won’t talk to anyone except him, and I wouldn’t want you dealing with their continued attitude by refusing to contact him just so we could finish our trip out.”

“A vacation is meant to be a vacation, that is all, I wanted you both to have this.”

“I can speak for Javi when I say, we do appreciate it, truly. You have been a great friend, to both of us, and we know you only called because you had no other choice.”

“As soon as we are done I will get him back to you.”

“I know you will, and thank you for helping me with this. I hope he likes it.”

“Javi will love it, I promise you, I cannot wait to see his face.”

Your phone beeped and you glanced at the screen, your boyfriend’s cheeky grin captured on a picture taking up your screen.

“He’s calling now, thanks again.”

“Ah, anytime.”

Hearing Gabi’s excitement only amplified yours and you swapped over the call after carefully closing the drawer beside you, not wanting any chances for you to slip up that surprise before you were ready. Javi’s face was close to the screen when the video call connected and you couldn’t fight the giggle that left you.

“Cariño, you can’t teleport through the phone like that.”

“I wish I could, I should have brought you here, Solecita.”

“Javi we can’t be attached at the hips 24/7 no matter how much we want to be.”

“I miss you always but it is worse now that I’ve had you for so long without work obligations in our way.”

“I, uh, was looking over my contract with the publishing company. Gabi sent it to your employment lawyer to read over too… I can buy the rights to self-publish my existing novels and pay myself out of a legal obligation to stay where I am.”

“You mean… to move in with me?”

“Mhm, but only if you’re okay with that, I haven’t made a move yet because I wasn’t going to without consulting you first.”

“I was going to ask you what the legalities were with where you lived. I want you to live with me, even if you wanted me to downsize-“

“No, no, I had hang-ups in the past over the wealth imbalance but that was a me thing. You never once made me feel lesser because of it, that was my own mental block, trust me when I say that I won’t ask you to change a thing about who you are or what you have.”

“I love you, so much. I wish you were here, so I could show you everything. I want to see your face when I take you out on the boat the first time, when you see the pool and the cliffs… to sleep with you in my bed knowing that you won’t be across an ocean the next time I want to see you.”

His voice went soft and you set your laptop aside, watching his face as he looked away from you, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

“Javi, I will need to handle the legal of things on my end but I’m- I am ready to move in with you. I took some time to just think and reflect, to talk with my therapist and my friends, and they reminded me that long distance or not there isn’t a set timeline for any relationship. That it’s okay for me to want everything even though it feels early.”

His eyes were round in disbelief for maybe half a second before he was crying, joyful tears with a smile that made you want to kiss him, and your own eyes welled over in response.

“I’ll let the staff know, do you want your own office for writing?”

“I would appreciate that, but you’re never barred from coming in okay?”

“That is- the same for you as well, even if I’m on a call, you’re welcome any time.”

Javi refused a phone tour, wanting to do one in person, and then he grinned in a way that was far from innocent.

“I am alone and have some time before I meet with the lead of staff, Solecita, if you were here I would encourage you to come sit in my lap.”

You couldn’t fight the thrill of excitement if you tried, adjusting how you were sitting in the bed, and it was a small blessing that the television stand at the end of the bed was there since you could prop your phone very easily into the groove and have both hands.

“Oh really, just to sit in your lap, or would you want me to be bare?”

He set his phone down with it propped up and you watched him lean back too, you couldn’t see much below the desk but you did know his hand was out of sight.

“Bare, of course, maybe with a flowy skirt so that I could fuck you and anyone who might walk in would be unable to tell exactly what we’re up to.”

“They would know, we aren’t exactly subtle, especially when I get so wet because of how good you make me feel.”

“Are you wet now, mi amor?”

“Just thinking of your cock inside me makes me want you, cariño.”

“Show me.”

It was easy to slide your hands down into your shorts, gathering the wetness before it could soak into your underwear, and Javi moaned at the shiny gleam on your hand.

“Play with that pretty clit for me, Solecita. You know how I touch you, close your eyes and imagine its me.”

“Fuck, Javi-“

You did as he said, closing your eyes and letting him croon through the phone as you circled your clit with two fingers, and Javi was panting into the speaker as he watched your face.

“Are you nice and wet for me, are you going to cum for me?”

His praise about how pretty you looked, how good he knew you felt, all of it made your body propel toward an orgasm that had you seeing stars and you knew he’d cum based on how hard he was breathing and the flush of his skin on your camera.

“Javi-“

“I’m taking a red-eye, I will be home as early as I can, and I will be waking you up if you’re asleep.”

Javi’s voice was rough and you knew he wanted to take care of you, to cuddle with you and stroke your hair and whisper words of love into your skin, he was an aftercare king. But the door was wide open for a conversation that you hadn’t been sure how to have with him.

“You don’t have to wake me up, Javi. You have my consent to do what you want to me while I’m asleep.”

“Solecita… you truly consent to me being physical with you while you’re sleeping?”

“Yes, Javi, I do consent to it. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up before but the idea of CNC is something I am interested in.”

“Only if you are sure, Solecita, I do not like the idea of violating your trust-“

“Which is why I trust you, Javi, you’ve been nothing but respectful and open with me.”

“If you wake up and don’t want me to continue you must safeword, do you understand?”

“I promise you if I don’t like something I will safeword, Javi.”

He nodded and a knock on the door on his side of the call made him apologize, likely shoving his cock back in his pants and trying to not look like he’d just cum, so you let him go and smiled at the small screen for just a second.

Surer than ever with what you had planned.

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @MSWarriorBabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

Kinktober Only: @nicolethered @katareyoudrilling

[rwbyremnants]

Warnings: incest, washing, fellatio, slight facial, lap-riding, grinding, over-clothes orgasm, rawing, multiple orgasms.

As Taylor once said, "this is me trying". Thanks for reading if you did!

=Chapter 12: Theia 

“It only seems reasonable. Just don’t understand why no one else did.”

Theia nodded as she and Pyrrha relaxed in their armchairs. It hadn’t been easy to drag them over to their corner, but they both felt quite a bit more comfortable now than they would have if they had simply walked over and stood there like scarecrows - now that they had seats, and had cleaned up Willow’s broken glass. How irresponsible for her to throw something like a misbehaving child.

“Maybe they sat on the floor?”

Pyrrha shrugged her shoulders with a genial smile as they glanced briefly over in the general direction of the center of the room. From this distance and with the lights being turned down yet again, they could only make out the stage, and a few vague shapes; any of them could have been anywhere. Theia wasn’t concerned with them right now, though.

Well… one of them. She found herself genuinely hoping Weiss was doing alright, facing down her domineering mother - even if her daughter had apparently relieved her of a great deal of sexual tension. Not that she relished that thought at all.

“Perhaps so, Mother.” 

“Yes.” An awkward pause. “So… I definitely didn’t expect any of this from my evening.”

“I would think not!” Pyrrha laughed, and Theia joined her, even if a bit more subdued. “I… I really haven’t had the chance to apologise, for what you’ve had to see.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” she told her mildly. “It was our fault for infiltrating your, um, place of employment.”

Her daughter squirmed a little. “Yes, well… I suppose that’s true. I’m sorry, but your friend - Weiss’s mother. She seems a little nosy.”

“A little? That’s the understatement of the year.” With a frustrated sigh, she leaned back, wishing there were some easy way to prop a hand or a knee up to block her view of a certain piece of anatomy. As usual, her daughter sat with perfect posture, ramrod straight… which was a bit of a double entendre this time, since her hands resting gently on her thighs hid nothing at all from sight.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha laughed softly. Smile still so pretty; she had always smiled pretty, even before Theia realised she was a ‘she’. 

“As for what I saw, you're doing a wonderful job. Not that I wanted- well, you understand. But I can’t deny, the five of you put on quite a performance.”

“Really? Thank you! It did take quite a bit of practice - especially tearing the thongs off in such a manner. But Salem insisted it was possible, and she was right.”

Pursing her lips for a moment, her mother muttered, “Salem… I might have to call the police on her. I know, we will likely get in trouble as well, but you can make sure you and the girls aren’t here, and…”

Her daughter’s noble features took on a grave cast. “Mother, you can’t. I know we can’t really afford my surgeries; that’s why I took this job, why I agreed to the extracurriculars. Your pension more than provides for you, but something like that is far too costly. And besides, you also know she only did that because she saw you as customers who wanted to sleep with her employees; it wasn’t done out of malice.”

“But either way, it’s illegal. I can’t let her keep doing this to unsuspecting trans women - not when they are already being exploited by the club as it is!”

“Oh… well…” Pyrrha gulped and looked down at her hands. “Of course, Mother, I’m sorry. You have a very good point.”

After a moment, Theia sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t trying to reprimand you, just to state how important this is. But I suppose your point of view is as valid as mine - more, even. Since it affects you more than I.”

“Well… we’ll think about it?” When Theia nodded, her daughter relaxed and her smile returned, even if more anxious than before. “Good.”

“I really am sorry.” Then Theia looked around, more as an excuse to take her eyes off some very tempting sights. Ones she wished didn’t tempt her at all. Before playing around with Weiss, she couldn’t have cared less about what a woman might look like, regardless of her genitalia - but between that and whatever foreign elements may have been inhabiting her system, that veil had been ripped away, and now she couldn’t keep from examining her own sexuality anymore. “So… you really do like working here?”

“It’s alright. Sorry for neglecting to tell you about my job, I just wasn't sure you would approve of me dancing for money. Not that we’ve ever danced in front of anyone before tonight, of course. But I haven’t minded the training.” Her cheeks turned rosy. “Um… did Weiss tell you… anything…?”

“She told me about the plugs, and the oral.”

“Yes. And, well, Salem herself has climaxed inside all of us, though she was very safe. Part of me thinks that was part of our ‘training’ merely because she enjoys the thought of having claimed each and every dancer who consents to the additional income, but… perhaps I am being too cynical?” 

That abominable woman had fucked her little girl. Stomach turning, Theia said, “That… could be very true.”

“At least she was quite an effective lover,” Pyrrha went on conversationally. Theia wondered if she was aware that her arousal was only increasing in size thanks to the topic… “Better than the boy I had been seeing. W-well, in terms of being penetrated; Willow was a different story, because it was a different act.”

Swallowing to coat her dry throat, she said, “Of course, naturally.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mother,” Pyrrha said with a sudden sigh. “This must be making you very uncomfortable! I should have more decorum than this. I just thought, now that it’s all out in the open-”

“No, it’s fine. I promise. I was just going to ask, well… whether or not you had a good time? With Willow, I mean. Maybe that’s also none of my business.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I really enjoyed being with Willow. I know it’s unlikely, but if she returned and paid again, I would only be too happy. I don’t believe our relationship would deepen past friends and-or customer-escort, though.”

“A-ah. Well, yes, I… yes.” 

This time, her daughter scooted forward, laying a hand on top of her mother’s folded pair. “You don’t have to keep forcing this conversation, merely because you think it’s necessary. If you’re uneasy, then please tell me; I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Oh, Pyrrha… I really am sorry, I just can’t seem to stop being awkward about it. But I thought…” She broke off. That wasn’t fair to put on her daughter.

“Go on?”

“Well… I’m sorry if this seems unkind, but I thought we were closer. And then I find out you have this whole other life…”

Her daughter looked dejected. Those noble features, piercing green eyes, they didn’t deserve to look so forlorn. “Well, Mother, I… I know. I just didn’t want you to worry. But I also know we don’t have the money for-”

“Forget the money. I would have found it somehow. I know… I don’t make a lot, and your father didn’t have much to his name, but there’s always a way. You don’t have to sell your body!”

“But there isn’t as much shame in it as you seem to think,” she replied firmly. Even though her tone was just as calm and tranquil as it ever was, she still managed to make Theia feel an inch tall. “We’re going to be safe in this club, unlike on the street; and I would never engage in activities out there, where there’s so much risk.”

“Well… that is… comforting, a little.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she whispered, “I know it’s not enough.”

“No, no, sweetheart,” she told her as she flipped her hands over to grip Pyrrha’s. They were still so strong, and she wanted to rub them with her thumbs as she looked into her eyes. “You are always enough. I just want to find out what’s best for you, and… and work toward that! Because you deserve the best.”

“I know, Mother.” She took a breath, closed her eyes, let it out smoothly. Then she opened them again to smile softly at her mother. “You coming all this way for your friend is very encouraging, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Well, you used to say you felt ‘cooped up’ in the house all the time. It’s nice to hear you have something to get you active; I had been hoping something might come along to help.”

“They’re alright,” she hedged. Sometimes Raven and Willow drove her crazy, but Kali was typically okay - even though now and then she was too bawdy for her. “I suppose I should be grateful for the group, for several reasons.”

“Must be more than ‘alright’ if you willingly walked into this place for their sake.”

Ducking her head, Theia whispered, “I-it’s not so bad here, I guess. And it might be in an exploitative way, but it has been nice to see so many… girls like you around, all looking so confident and sure of themselves.”

“Even to… meet one of them?”

Her daughter was being kind. Theia flushed scarlet when she realised what she meant, looking away as her hands fidgeted. “O-oh, well, that was a mistake. I was having a hard time controlling myself - because of the dosed water, of course.”

“Of course. I… could also blame my indiscretions on the pills, and I suppose they are partly to blame. But at the same time…”

“What?” Still no answer. She scooted her chair even closer and caressed over Pyrrha’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“At the same time, I wanted her. I wanted to know what it was like to be with a woman - a cisgender woman, I mean. And we shared a connection, both financial and physical. As I’ve said, I don’t expect it to be meaningful in my future, but as a dalliance, it was far sweeter than I had any right to expect. So… even though it’s part of my job, I’m grateful, in a strange way.”

“I see.” Trying to ignore the bizarre flare of jealousy, she pivoted to another topic. “Financial?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “We discussed the stock market, briefly.”

“Ah. You have been very focused on that of late.” As her girl nodded, Theia tried not to think about how antsy she was getting. Was Pyrrha? She seemed to be doing alright… other than the fact that her arousal wasn’t going anywhere.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“Would you… like to inspect me?”

Her eyes shot up to stare into her daughter's. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed you glance at my anatomy several times. Maybe… it's strange, but we're already in very strange circumstances. I would love for you to take a closer look, if you were curious.”

She would love for her to play with her cock?! No - no way, that didn’t sound right. The word “play” had never been said at all. Pyrrha just assumed her mother was interested in how different it was when erect, since she had never seen it that way before tonight - or what a trans woman looked like up close. Either of those were far more plausible. “Would you really?”

“Of course. Since I probably can’t make it go flaccid for a while yet, you might as well - and take all the time you need. I’m just… I am sorry, it’s going to smell quite a bit like latex, from earlier.”

Wrestling with that instinct to immediately drop to her knees, and the accompanying wave of guilt and horror at how unhinged her mind was becoming, Theia whispered, “No, no, thank you. I think that might be a bit too personal.”

“Very well. But the offer stands; I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Yes. It… smells like latex? You must have already… with Willow… right. Do you need me to wash you?”

“I can wash myself,” she chuckled softly. But even while Theia was nodding, and cringing internally that she even asked such a silly thing to her adult daughter in the first place… “But if you’d prefer to do it for me, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt anything. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Her mother didn’t respond. Pyrrha really didn't mind? Obviously, it would be far easier for her to just wash herself backstage and return; this was an entirely unnecessary extra step. Honestly, Theia didn't even know why she asked in the first place - and now she wasn’t sure what to say. 

Of course, her daughter took that as her being unwilling to admit what she wanted to do, and stood with a slight nod. “I’ll be right back, Mother.”

“I- oh, alright.” 

Off Pyrrha went, still strutting like a flawless runway model up the stairs and out of sight behind the curtain. Which meant Theia had almost a full minute to dwell on how dangerous this was. She wanted to cry, she wanted to hide in the corner… but they were already in a corner. The other three were occupied, probably by screaming families - not that she heard any screaming. What was going on in the rest of the room? She was so warm by now that she wound up shucking her blouse, waving frantically at her neck. Anything to help bring her temperature back down.

Why couldn’t she simply vocalise that she didn’t exactly intend to have Pyrrha give her the opportunity to examine her up close and personal? To wash her? That seemed far too familiar, given the girl's current level of arousal… and she hated to even contemplate that she wanted to do such a thing. So she just kept trying to cool down and focus on how much she loved her daughter. Her blood-related offspring. What an abominable mess.

“Alright, m-oh. You’ve certainly gotten comfortable.”

“I-it’s just entirely too warm in here,” Theia hedged as she placed her shoes next to her blouse, glancing up at her perfectly poised daughter. Whose anatomy was just as poised as ever. “So I was trying to cool off for a second. But I can cover back up if you’re-”

“No, no, it’s alright. It would be highly hypocritical of me, after all, considering the state I’m in. Besides, it isn't as if I've never seen your shoulders and feet before. Juice?” Theia took the glass of fruit juice, unable to keep from glancing up at her daughter. “Yes, it’s safe. I’m very sure.”

Nodding, she took a small sip as Pyrrha perched on her seat again. Some kind of tropical blend. “Thank you. I’m sure you understand; it’s not mistrust of you, it’s this place.”

“Of course.”

“And thank you for this.” She took another small sip and set it down on the floor.

“No problem, Mother. Here.” Pyrrha pressed a warm wet washcloth into her hands. “To do with as you will. If that means handing it right back to me, well, then that’s what you will do. It won’t upset me, I promise you.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She scooted forward just enough to come within range… so close… but as Kali had stated, she was capable of resisting, even if it took a little more effort than usual. “Are you sure this won’t be… too much? With the state you’re in?”

“It’s not a state I asked for, exactly,” she chuckled easily, scooting forward and opening her thighs wide - making it even easier for Theia to get in there, and harder for her to look away. “And you’re my mother. Other than my doctor, you’re one of the few who could do this for me without it being too much, I should think.”

Apparently, they were about to find out. Not quite as sure as her daughter, Theia tried to reassure herself that yes, it was perfectly natural for her to clean up a family member this way. As Pyrrha said, so what if she was aroused - if they both were? That wasn’t anyone’s fault but Salem’s. And they were both grown adults, capable of making their own choices. Careful to avoid touching her directly, she laid one hand on her hip and used the other to wrap the washcloth around her daughter’s considerable girth.

The moan that came from its owner immediately seemed to evaporate her hopes. No, this was too much!

“I-it’s alright,” Pyrrha told her right away. “I’m simply more… sensitive, thanks to earlier. But you’re doing fine, Mother.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked as she began to caress up and down, trying not to scrub too vigorously. She could feel the throb even through the washcloth - and felt her body responding to the knowledge that her efforts were pleasing her this much. Evidently, only her brain cared that this was her daughter. 

“Mmm, well… not as sure as I was a moment ago. But it’s alright.” Her eyes opened again to look at her mother. “Unless this is a problem for you? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Her mother was quick to answer, “No, no, I’m not uncomfortable.” Just conflicted. Pyrrha’s reactions were exciting and fun; she knew she would have thought so from anyone else. So it was hard to see them a different way when it came to this person, even if it was someone related to her by blood. An unfortunate reality, but still reality.

And Theia couldn’t seem to stop. Only when she saw her daughter tremble with appreciation for the stroking did she finally pull the washcloth away to inspect.

“I… I’m sure that’s fine,” Pyrrha sighed, starting to relax slightly. Her eyes shot wide open a moment later when she felt a different sensation. “Oh? Oh, goodness.”

“Sorry,” Theia breathed, drawing the cloth away from the area beneath her little girl's shaft.

“No, no, I’m sure there was probably some residue on my scrotum. You may continue - if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“It would be my pleasure.” She hadn’t meant to say that; why would she say that? Trying to focus in spite of how difficult it was, she started caressing over those soft spheres in their loose skin, making her daughter hum in a more gentle way. At least this was less stimulating. However… 

There was an obvious consequence which she hadn’t anticipated. Leaning close enough to work on Pyrrha's sack put that mammoth erection almost directly in her face. The lighting might have been spotty but it wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t see every contour now that she was this close, couldn’t scent the lingering musk of her daughter mingling with latex that had been stirred up in the washing. Her tongue flitted out to wet her lips - an instinct she couldn’t entirely suppress. 

At least Pyrrha didn’t seem to notice. A quick glance up showed her daughter was relaxed, leaning back against the chair with her eyes closed. Like she was getting a foot massage instead of a ball massage. Did she really not mind this? Even though it was her mother? Curiosity spiked, and she reached up with her free hand to gently press her thumb to the underside of her impressive shaft-

“Mmm…”

That was it? Just a hum of distant enjoyment; no shout of alarm, no question of what she was doing. But she stopped herself from focusing on that too much more and simply pressed the cock back against Pyrrha’s abdomen, washing her undercarriage a little more thoroughly. At least that made for a good excuse for her thumb being there. The attentions seemed to have encouraged Pyrrha to open up more, raising her legs until she was catching the undersides of her thighs, really spreading for her.

So why wouldn’t Theia start gliding that washcloth over her taint? Why wouldn’t she press in a little more, get another little hum - move on to her cheeks? Might as well be thorough. And in the spirit of that… 

Salem had already deflowered her little girl. So had that boy she was seeing. Maybe she needed to be clean in all areas.

“O-oooh,” Pyrrha finally vocalised more solidly when she felt the washcloth-covered finger squirming against her taut opening. “You always were… very adamant about cleanliness, weren’t you?”

At least the words helped distract Theia from her feelings. Ones that were getting more and more dangerous the longer she yielded them. “Of course. It’s next to godliness. Do you… dislike it? I don’t have to keep going.”

“I haven’t disliked anything,” she told her serenely. Her daughter had always been so agreeable - to a fault, really. “In fact, it’s quite nice.”

“Good, that’s… that’s good.” Her throat was dry. It took her a moment to realise it was because her mouth was watering - and she knew why. As much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it, she was definitely feeling an attraction that was as immoral as they come.

‘Damn!’ she screamed at herself internally as she gently plied at her daughter’s opening, listening to her sighs of distant pleasure. ‘I should have known. And sure, the ladies looked very nearly as turned on as I did… and we all have daughters in this room. But even if they’re feeling what I’m feeling, it doesn’t make it right for me to act on it. I just have to focus on taking care of her and not on… on those dark needs.’

There was a big problem with that plan, of course - two big problems, really. Firstly, those chemicals were still swirling in her veins, encouraging her to do things that were inadvisable with the last person on earth she should do them with. And second, she had declined Weiss’s offer to reciprocate. For roughly an hour, maybe more, her loins had burned with the ache to have someone touch them. Her judgment was sufficiently clouded by lust. Maybe that was the only reason she found herself not hating the idea of taking that huge implement right in front of her and-

‘No, I won’t. That is disgusting - get ahold of yourself, Theia Nikos! Just clean her off, and tell her you love her, and try to have a nice chat about Willow and Weiss. That was what you came over here to do, after all.’

“There you go,” she began as calmly as she could, finally withdrawing the washcloth and tossing it over onto the stage. “So, I suppose… well, you said you had a nice time with Willow. Does it bother you that she’s Weiss’s mother? I mean, that… I guess what I’m asking is-”

“It doesn’t,” she told her calmly as she sat up a little more, looking serenely satisfied. “Her age isn’t an issue. Nor is her gender; I presumed I was straight, but I suppose they do say most women aren’t fully straight at all. And we enjoyed ourselves very much, so that seems to settle the matter for me.”

“Okay. I guess that’s… that’s fair. Did you have any questions about… myself and…?”

That did seem to make Pyrrha a little less comfortable. But she forged ahead, “I-it’s your business, really. I do feel it’s my duty to ask if she treated you well; you seem fine, but I have to ask, anyway.”

Theia smiled slightly. “That’s more than okay. I like that you’re looking after me, the way you always do.” She patted her hand, and Pyrrha’s smile grew. “Weiss treated me fine. We didn’t make love, and she didn’t touch me beyond sitting in my lap, but she did… use… my mouth. And it was fun, in a way.”

“Oh, she didn’t take care of your needs? That hardly seems fair.”

“N-no, I declined her offer. She didn’t shirk her ‘duties’, I promise.”

“Ah, I see.” Pyrrha nodded with a little shrug. “Well, then that’s fine. I just would feel a little bad if she forgot to ask. But the most important thing is that she didn’t hurt you at all.”

“Not even close,” she reassured her daughter. They both leaned forward for a brief hug - and Theia sighed when she felt her daughter’s strong back, smelled her musky perfume. “Hmmhh…”

Pyrrha didn’t answer with words. However, she did cling a little tighter when she heard her mother’s response. The longer they remained that way, the more she could feel her interest growing - not good. Sense told her to panic and flee, but her maternal instincts contradicted that tactic. Running away would only show Pyrrha that she wasn’t worth sticking around for in spite of that difficulty. So she tried to go back to the subject.

“You don’t have any other feelings about me and Weiss? Besides being glad she treated me alright?”

“Oh, I suppose… um… no, that’s a strange thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“Say it. I promise, I want to know what’s going on in your heart.”

“Well… as I said, it’s strange, but I think I feel jealous. Not because I want you to do that for me, but because she got to enjoy a type of attention I can’t have from someone I am very fond of - and had the chance to help you in a way I can't, even if you declined. It’s a petty feeling and it will fade. I promise, I am mostly just glad you had a positive encounter and you aren’t hurt; that is far more prominent than the jealousy.”

Pyrrha was jealous? That she was with Weiss instead of her? Even if it was minor, and framed the way her daughter said, that notion was still far more stimulating than she wished it was. But she didn’t want her daughter to feel ashamed of herself, so she figured there was no sense in hiding the truth. “I mostly feel the same way. Though I can’t help thinking my jealousy level may be… a teensy bit higher.”

“Oh?” After another second, Pyrrha drew back to look at her, eyebrows raised. Her face was so close - and so beautiful, always had been. “Wait, Mother, have… have you wanted that kind of attention from me?”

“No, no, I never have! In the past.” SHIT. Damage control. “N-nor do I now, not really. It just seems like Willow got to enjoy a connection with you that could have been mine; as you said, a petty feeling, and foolish.”

However, now her daughter was looking at her in a completely different way. “Goodness. W-well… I don’t know how to… it almost sounds like we are both interested in the same thing. It’s just something unusual.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Do you… find me attractive?”

Theia gulped hard, feeling her heart trying to crash its way out of her chest, blood rushing behind her ears as she gazed up into her daughter’s stunning emerald eyes. “Of course. You are my breathtaking, adorable daughter! I’ve always told you that you were the most beautiful child in the world, haven’t I? At some point, you grew up, but I… I still think no one compares. You're so perfect, Pyrrha; don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Was Pyrrha blushing? She seemed to be, especially if the way she was biting her lip and looking down and away was any further indicator, other than the slight deepening of colour in her cheeks that Theia wasn’t quite sure she was really seeing. The lighting was not ideal. 

“Goodness. Alright. And I have this feeling… I don’t need to ask about my body in specifics. Your eyes continue to be drawn to my privates, so either you’re concerned about the effects of such a prolonged erection, or… you find it… aesthetically pleasing?”

The girl was giving her so many breaks. “Well, anyone would, if they like those. You have a lovely dick.” Immediately afterward, she pushed a hand into her mouth; she had not meant to phrase the last part that way. That was far too provocative.

“O-ooh, I do?” The throb made it twitch in the air so obviously that it was impossible to ignore, and Theia felt her thighs squirming. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You’re welcome. I am very, very sorry you have to hear me saying all this.”

“Why? You’re being honest with me, and it makes me feel good to hear. A little strange, but good.”

“Strange?” 

Again, she reached out to take up her mother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Yes. Because when you said my dick was ‘lovely’, it was stimulating. I know that isn’t right, of course; I know it shouldn’t stimulate me, coming from my mother. But you’re such a beautiful woman, and I respect your opinion so much; I know you’re telling me the truth. So it’s very flattering, and… and makes me happy.”

“Are you sure? You’re sure it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, or… or sickened?”

“Why would it sicken me? I love you.” No hesitation at all; Theia’s heart squeezed in her chest. “And I’ve also always thought you were a stunning woman. I wish I could look more like you.”

“Oh, why would you? I know I’m not unpleasant, but I’m plain. You grew to be such a tall, graceful, stunning supermodel of a young lady!”

Predictably, her daughter dipped her head with a shy grin. “Thank you. But yes, the height… it presented a challenge at first. I am more comfortable with myself now, but I still wish my height were closer to yours - or Weiss’s or Ruby’s. They have a much easier time being recognised as their gender.”

Theia could only nod as she scooted a little closer. She was practically crawling in her daughter’s lap by now, but just barely restraining herself. “I can see how that would be. But I think… it’s going to be alright now, because you are gorgeous. There are plenty of tall women who are gorgeous, cis and trans.”

“Intelligently, I know that’s true. I just can’t entirely shake my own fears of being rejected.”

“You won’t be. Even if they did, I would never.” She reached up to caress her daughter’s cheek and neck. “I am always going to support you as my beautiful girl, for my whole life.” 

“And I you, my beautiful mother,” Pyrrha told her in a soft tone. “Always will.”

The moment was so right for a kiss that Theia could only wrestle the impulse down enough to aim for her cheek instead of her lips. That was highly worrying. Her daughter looked indecisive for a moment before embracing her tightly, opting for the most platonic display of affection she could.

There was only one problem: it still didn’t quite feel platonic. Not enough. Theia pressed her face into Pyrrha’s neck, caressed up and down her back again. At some point, she thought she felt the tip of her arousal brush her stomach, but she couldn’t be sure. It was driving her crazy in two very disparate ways.

“Mother?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I… I feel that we are in peril.”

Even though she didn’t really need to ask it, she did. “In what way?”

“You feel very nice in my arms, as you always have. I just… haven’t embraced you while in this condition, and it is confusing me. But I don’t dislike it - not at all.”

“I… know exactly how you feel. I’d like to hug you a little tighter, but that might be…”

When she didn’t finish the thought, Pyrrha eventually caressed over her hair - and Theia really liked that. She had to resist leaning into the touch. “You can, if you want. I’ve always liked being close to you.”

“Well… there’s only a couple of ways…”

“Whichever way you choose will be the right way,” her daughter reassured her firmly.

“Will it?” she muttered under her breath - even as she began to move. Picked herself up from her chair and began to slide into the other. A part of her had wanted to pull Pyrrha forward instead, but it wasn’t quite as feasible given their sizes and weights; her little girl wasn’t quite so little anymore.

The instant she felt the undersides of her thighs connect with her daughter’s, she knew this was probably a mistake. Her intentions had been pure! Hadn’t they? Maybe not, but she really didn’t have any darker ones - other than to get closer, to be as close as she could be. Of course, feeling a pulsing rod of pleasure gouging into her stomach and mons made the darkness burn stronger, but she swallowed hard, screwed her eyes shut as she attempted to fend off the flare.

“O-oh,” Pyrrha wound up breathing. “Yes, I now see… how this may have been… I understand what you were implying before.”

“Yes,” Theia laughed nervously. “I should move.”

“No!” Even as she pushed away, Pyrrha’s hands moved to catch her waist - and GOD that sent a rush of heat through her stomach and further down. “Mmhh… oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-to-”

“It’s alright, Pyrrha. Everything’s fine. I just thought it… might be… mhhh…”

The moan was impossible to completely suppress, thanks to the fact that the slight shift now meant the underside of that perfectly rigid heat was pressing into her nethers. She might even have been able to feel how wet she was through her skirt - and that would be a disaster. Still, all she could manage was to keep her moan quiet instead of loud and obscene.

“Mother?” Pyrrha questioned breathlessly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes… it just… feels so good…”

That close, she could hear her daughter gulp. “Oh! Well then, that’s fine! I-I’m glad I can… provide you with a good feeling, of course!”

“You don’t have to be!” she blurted out, trying to keep her stupid hips from moving. “You don’t always have to be polite if you have needs that are important! If you’re uncomfortable, please, please put me back in the other chair. I promise, it’s… it’s fine, I just… need to get control of…”

Stupid hips. They didn’t listen.

“Mmmmother,” her daughter groaned, fingertips digging in slightly. “Okay. Perhaps you should get up.”

“O-of course,” she breathed with shame as she tried to figure out how to do that. “Don’t worry, I-”

“And remove your skirt.”

Eyes wide, she drew back to stare down at her goddess-like daughter. “Excuse me?”

“W-well, if we keep going… we’re going to dirty it,” she explained, her sweet face a mask of inner conflict, voice trembling with anxieties. “And I’m afraid I f-forgot to take that precaution with Willow, but we were using a prophylactic that time.” 

“Right, right, with Willow. She didn’t get to feel you so directly.” Theia shook out her muzzy head, trying to get her libido to shut up long enough to form coherent thoughts. “But I… this isn’t right, is it? Please don’t think you have to force yourself to put up with it for my sake. I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you, or damaged our relationship.”

But Pyrrha was already shaking her head. “No, I don’t believe that will happen. We mean so much to each other as family that I don’t think anything could ruin that. And… I may never have had thoughts about you of a sexual nature before, but I can’t deny… I have thought you were a gorgeous woman. Often. And just now, you felt wonderful.”

“Exactly,” Theia found herself saying as she stood, shucking her skirt. Was she really doing this?! It was crazy! But the lingering sensation of that dick pressing into her body seemed to be guiding her actions. “And until tonight, I’ve never once thought of you in that way, either.”

Pyrrha was watching. With interest. Theia found herself slipping her legs from the garment a little slower than was strictly necessary. “Until tonight? Not until… this moment?”

“W-well, yes. I suppose there’s no point in denying it anymore.” Clearing her throat, she stood to face her daughter, feeling awkward, dumpy. Old. Not worthy of such a young, vital woman. “There was probably some underlying interest, but it came right to the forefront when I saw you rip that thong off with your… your erection. I tried to tell myself it was purely all of the pretty cocks on stage, and yours wasn’t one of them, but I knew I was fooling myself. Yours was the most impressive of them all.”

“Mmm…” Pyrrha had started to reach for said cock, but stopped herself short. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s your body, you can do whatever you want.”

Nodding, she began to stroke idly. That made Theia feel things - and she knew it was wrong, but she didn’t have the energy to resist anymore. “Thank you. I… was going to ask, you really like the look and feel of my penis, don’t you? I understand, you probably prefer it weren’t attached to me, but as a purely physical… object of desire…?”

Why not? They were already beyond all hope. “I think it's just about the best one I’ve ever seen.” Maybe tied with Peleus… but she didn’t want to think about him just now. She felt like she had no right.

“O-oh, wonderful!” she said with a shaky breath. “Um… and you seem to be a fan of them. N-not that it makes you any kind of loose woman! Just that you enjoy them, in the, u-um, proper setting!”

“That’s accurate,” she laughed gently, her nerves eased slightly by seeing her daughter was just as nervous, but not appalled. “I’m… I’ve never really thought of myself as some kind of ‘dick fiend’, but tonight has proven I am, at least a little. I enjoyed playing with Weiss a lot, and… even just washing yours…”

"Good. Well, I don't mean to say anything is good or bad, necessarily; only that I'm glad you're figuring it out." She bit her lip as her mother settled in her lap again. "Do you… like feeling it this close? Without anything in the way?"

Swallowing down a moan, she took a couple of breaths to make it easier to speak in an even tone as her hands settled on her daughter’s shoulders. "I do. My underwear is in the way, but I really don't think it's wise for me to take that off, as well."

"No, no, I… I imagine that would lead more directly to the love that dare not speak its name."

"Exactly." As both of their hips began to roll, their breath coming faster, she found herself saying aloud, "Even if that is seeming less and less like something I want to avoid."

But even while Theia’s eyes were opening wider in horror at her own words, Pyrrha was already whispering, "Really? Are you certain?” When her mother didn’t answer right away, she thought that over for a moment as she held onto Theia’s waist. “I can't… disagree. You feel so wonderful in my arms, and not nearly as unnatural as I had expected. I am very shocked, but I can’t… argue with the evidence. Both of us are very aroused; I can feel it through your undergarment."

Face erupting with heat at being called out, Theia moaned, and they fell silent for a few more seconds of subtle grinding. Then she hissed, "You're sure it’s not offensive to you? I'm… your mother, I'm roughly twice your age, I… Willow has to be a much more appealing choice, even if you don't seek out a girl closer to your own age. Or a boy; you liked that boy in your class, didn't you?"

“He was very sweet, yes. But something was missing. I… hadn’t quite understood what it was until tonight.” She cleared her throat. “That, um, isn’t to say I mean… I wish to d-date, I know that isn’t possible. And you’re still young, Mother! You have plenty of time to marry again, if you so choose.”

Before she even finished, Theia was already shaking her head. “There hasn’t been anyone. I already had my family; I don’t really want another. Even Weiss… it was nice, but didn’t change my feelings about that.”

Pyrrha nodded as she shifted a little harder against her growing wetness. That certainly wasn’t making rational thought any easier. “I… I want…” 

“Yes?” she asked urgently. Hating how much she was hoping Pyrrha would tell her she wanted the same thing that was rapidly becoming her deepest, darkest desire. 

“I want more. But I don’t want to do something you will regret.”

“What about you? Will you regret it?”

“Perhaps,” she admitted, hands moving to rest on her mother’s soft rump; she wished she exercised more so it would have a little bit of tone, but her daughter didn’t seem to mind. “But I think I will regret it more if I don’t take this chance to… see what it may feel like. To be with you.”

Theia couldn’t believe this. Not only was she lusting after her sweet daughter like some kind of disgusting predator, but her daughter actually returned the desire. It still wasn’t right… but she had asked her as carefully and thoughtfully as she could about her feelings. Seemingly, they were on the same page. But she had to be extra sure, because as far gone as they already were, there would be no going back if they gave in.

“Pyrrha Nikos,” she breathed shakily, and felt her daughter’s posture straighten. “You… you know I’m your mother. You know what that means, if we go any further. Just because you can feel I’m… interested…” She swallowed hard to keep from sobbing. “You cannot do this for me. It has to be something you want; don’t cover up your own feelings, don’t do it for my sake. I will be very upset if I find out later that the only reason you consented was f-”

The kiss cut her off so abruptly that she still tried to say another couple of words into her daughter’s mouth. What an effective counterargument.

A minute or so later, Theia dialed back into reality to discover not only was she panting and dazed, but that her bra had disappeared. Both of their bras; that was even crazier, since she could better understand not paying attention to the movements against her own back. But not realising she had done the same? She had truly been swept away by the kiss and the heat building between them. Such a beautiful kiss - one she would never forget. This was far too easy to fall into, and she had definitely already shed tears of mingling dismay and gratitude. 

“Ohhhh, goodness,” Pyrrha panted when they finally broke apart. 

“Y-yes,” she groaned back, caressing over her daughter’s shoulders and neck a lot more tenderly than she had in years. Yes, she had doted on her as a child, but this was very different - her daughter was very different. She was a grown woman now, and one she was increasingly finding herself drawn to in a brand new way. “Goodness indeed. Very, very good.”

Her daughter’s warm giggle did so much to dispel her fears, her self-hatred. Not enough to wipe them away but it was a significant improvement. “You know, I have been wondering about this in the back of my mind ever since I saw you with Weiss. What it must have been like - for both of you.” 

“Before you found out I didn’t go nearly as far as you?” she said in an almost-teasing tone. 

“Mmm, exactly.” Those strong hands had been kneading her ass fairly often, but just as often they drifted up to caress over her back and hair. “I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about you, or Father before he passed. In that way, I mean. There was the incident when I came home from practice early-”

“Oh no, not that,” she groaned, and her daughter laughed. “I can’t believe you saw so much of us! I was mortified.”

“You shouldn’t be. At the time, I was… displeased, because I was quite young, but it didn’t take me long to realise I was simply happy that my parents still had a healthy relationship. Healthy enough to get up to hijinks in the living room, even.”

It was hard for Theia to tell how much of the blush was from them writhing together, and how much was a result of the memory. “I’m relieved you could think of it that way. We honestly thought you would be out, had a little too much wine… I didn’t want my little boy to see me that way. OH! Girl - sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I understand it’s contextual; I was your little boy at that time from your perspective.”

Her anxiety spike dwindled back down. “I’m glad. Because you are my absolutely gorgeous daughter; I’ve never thought of you as anything else since we first discussed everything.”

“I know.” Leaning up, she kissed her cheek. “And it’s one of the many reasons I love you, Mother.”

Their lips connected, and tongues met, and fingernails raked down backs. This time, Theia felt more aware of what was going on, and she found she was more grateful than regretful; it was strange, demented, but made less so by the fact that both of them seemed to fully embrace that they were now in this position. She knew that she might feel differently in the morning - that without the chemicals and the lights and the fact that they had begun the night from a position of already being aroused and exposed, this would never have happened and she might not be able to live with herself. But in the here and now… 

Pyrrha was looking quite good. And for the first time in years, her needs would not be neglected.

“M-Mother!” she gasped when they finally broke apart. “I’m sorry, I-I- I think I really do want to cross that line!”

“I think… I feel the same! But I need…” She shifted her hips, her clit already throbbing wildly, her walls begging for more. “Can you tell me… that you want… I need you to state it clearly, so I know I'm not taking advantage. It must be so frustrating for me to keep asking ab-”

“I want to make love to you, Theiaki.”

That was that. Even without any penetration or direct contact, the firmly stated words, the fact that it was her Pyrrha, and the grinding, and that name… Theia came hard right up against that thick shaft, crying out as her head fell back. She felt strong hands supporting her, keeping her from pitching into the floor. The orgasm snuck up so fast and hit her so hard that she still felt her clit pulsing after it passed - not that it went far. Her body remained a raw and vulnerable nerve ending, more than prepared to go again. 

“O-oh!” Pyrrha finally breathed afterward, eyes wide as dinner plates - as Theia saw when she could focus on them again. “Did you… that was your orgasm, wasn’t it?”

All Theia could do for the moment was nod. Pyrrha was patient, holding her up until she moved forward to drape herself across the younger woman’s chest. After she had breathed a bit, she whispered, “I… I think that was… yes, I am… definitely glad to have tried that.”

Her daughter hummed. Just by the sound, she could tell she was smiling. “Then I’m glad. It sounded like you really needed that.”

“Mmhh… I did. I may still.” She licked her lips and pushed back now that she had caught her breath slightly, feeling sweat clinging to her skin and trying to evaporate in the open air. “What about you? This feels like it’s ready to burst.”

“Not entirely. I was very much enjoying that, but my earlier climax has made it… more manageable.” 

“Really? So… it’s not sensitive when I do this?” A low moan sounded from both of them when she rolled her hips. “Ooh, that was… mhhh… not a good test, was it?”

“No,” Pyrrha panted, “it was a perfect test. You clearly… have proven that I could use a second climax of the evening.”

Before she could stop herself, Theia was breathing, “I want to feel it when you do. Inside.”

“You do?” She could see her swallow hard, and she dipped her head shyly. “O-oh, Mother… I don’t know, that’s so much further, but… I suppose I did say I wanted to make love to you. I was just trying to convince myself that we didn’t need to now that you had finished, and… this way you wouldn’t have to go quite so far. With me.”

“I understand.” Kissing her sweet girl’s jawline, she whispered, “Let me take care of you with my mouth; maybe that way, we can both at least avoid… completely giving in to temptation.”

Nodding fervently, Pyrrha wrapped her arms tightly around her for a moment. “Very well. My need to be inside you is powerful, but I suppose we can… try, or do that another time.” 

If there was another time. She knew her poor daughter was probably feeling the regret the same way she was - but more than that, they both regretted that they didn’t regret it. That awareness that they were doing something insanely taboo, that they already could never look at each other the same way again. Would it be any better if they stopped now?

What if they kept going and it was worse? That was the true reason for hedging their bets this way; the vain hope that even though they might both climax thanks to each other’s efforts, that maybe they wouldn't completely ruin their familial bond.

Not that kissing her way down Pyrrha’s chest, making sure to graze her nipple, was all that motherly. Her daughter’s breasts were of such good size, almost a miracle being that they were all natural. The moans told her that they were sensitive - so she stalled there, humming as she swirled her tongue around the peak, teasing the rigid surface. The longer it went on, the more her daughter mewled and arched her back, enjoying the play. As she toyed, she wrapped her fingers firmly around the shaft that was now occasionally grazing her own chest, beginning to stroke roughly.

“AH!” Pyrrha gasped. “Mo-Theiaki, please, y-you’re definitely- I won’t last much longer if you do that now, a-and I shall make a mess!”

“Mmmmmawww, you’re going to be fine.” Her tone was playful and teasing, but she was trying to be that way for Pyrrha’s sake - so she wouldn’t feel as ashamed of their taboo-breaking. Also, it was fun. Though she did begin kissing down her stomach as she stroked, until she was kissing the shaft itself, more holding it still than actually jerking it now. 

She felt a lot less playful when she came face to face with Pyrrha’s incredible cock. Why was it so enormous? The god’s honest truth was, she wasn’t sure if she would be any less attracted if it were of a more modest size, like Weiss’s - or if the size was what helped to overpower her good sense. Most likely, it was irrelevant… but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t deeply enjoy how impressive and appealing the shape was to her.

“Oooh,” Pyrrha breathed when she felt the first of the open-mouthed kisses her mother began to leave all over its surface. “Mmm, oh I believe I really like this. Do you like this, Mother?”

That was so sweet. She was still slipping up and calling her that instead of the petname; maybe it was on purpose. Most likely, she just was so used to calling her Mother that it came very naturally, and she couldn’t hate that just because they were about to very seriously strain the mother-daughter bond. 

“I’m very much loving this,” she confessed baldly, running her tongue all the way along its underside. The musk was returning now that she had wiped away most of the latex residue, and she found herself breathing deeply, trying to fill her lungs with one of her new favourite scents. 

“Oh? Well… it very much loves you.”

Another oddly sweet thing to say. Theia found herself nuzzling the warm, smooth surface, finding it felt so clean so close after washing. She had always thought the same of Peleus’s equipment after his showers… but she tried to put her husband out of her mind for now. What if he was watching them from the afterlife, horrified and betrayed that they would buck this particular societal convention? No, her mind should be filled with Pyrrha, so she could better service her.

Not that she wouldn’t indulge herself. A minute passed with her just stroking it idly as she kissed her daughter’s cock all over, rubbed it against her face. Why did it have to feel so wonderful? She left kisses all the way down to the soft sack and back up to the tip, teased her tongue against the taut seam stretching down from the head to the rest of the shaft. She felt like an animal drawn to a force she couldn’t comprehend, powerless to resist - spurred on by the inferno that still raged between her legs, despite having soothed it so recently.

“NH! Theiaki… you really love my member. Don’t you?”

Interesting; she called it ‘member’. That was kind of cute. “I do. It’s so pretty, so strong and firm… and I think…” She hesitated. Maybe that level of dirty talk was too far, given their relationship.

“You think what?” she prompted - the tone just soothing enough to convince her she could trust Pyrrha. That she wouldn’t judge her just for completing her thought.

“I think I want to see if I can fit this in my throat.”

“A-ahhhh,” she groaned with a much harder throb, hips twitching involuntarily. Why was that so cute, too? Theia stroked her a little harder as she fondled her sack, moving her lips up to tease over the tip - then letting her tongue loll out, pushing it down hard so that the tip went rigid enough to press into that tiny little opening with each of her hand’s eager movements. Not that she could really get her tongue inside; it was far too small for that. But she could tease. 

The reaction was instant. “OH MY GOD! Your tongue! A-are you- inside my- MOTHER!”

“Oooh, you enjoy that?” Theia purred - before doing it again. If her daughter liked it, then she was only too happy to provide a little more of the same play. Brief suction, then pulling back to tease that teeny tiny pussy again - to see if Pyrrha truly loved it, or if it was just new and caught her off guard.

The answer was both. Pyrrha was too busy grimacing and groaning through her teeth to actually provide any further warning - before the cockhead just suddenly began to spurt, all over the roof of Theia’s mouth, then her face when she drew back an inch in complete shock. One or two more spurts were enough to make her hastily take the cock into her mouth, letting it fill her there instead of being painted any more than she already had been.

Somehow, even late to the party like that, it was still fantastic. She loved having that throbbing shaft up against her lips and tongue as it gave her the last few gifts it had built up, the silky feeling as she swallowed it down. She didn’t even know why it was so good - just that it was, and she felt no less thrilled about Pyrrha than about Weiss or Peleus. More, even… possibly. She didn’t want to think about it too much.

“Oooh… oh, Theiaki, that was… you really knew just what to do for me…”

“Hmmhh,” she managed as she swallowed - and heard another little mewl. So she pulled back to look up at her; it wasn’t easy, her vision was hazy for some reason. “Does it still feel good?”

But Pyrrha didn’t answer right away. She just looked down and rasped, “You have so much… all over your face, and… ooh…”

Right; there was a thick splotch on the right lens of her glasses. “A-ah, yes. That’s my fault; you tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen, did I?”

“I think it’s very…” She lowered her voice slightly. “I mean no disrespect, but it’s kind of… arousing, to see that all over you. Knowing it came from me.”

Oh. That was a different shade of so fucking hot that she almost reached between her legs to take care of herself again then and there. She was tempted to phrase it in a very crude way - the word “cumslut” came to mind. But instead, she managed to say, “Do you? Am I your… marked territory?”

“NO! Oh, goodness, of course not!” But the way her cock throbbed under her fingers told Theia that she was right; Pyrrha just really didn’t like thinking of her that way consciously. Subconsciously, belonging to each other was satisfying for both of them; this was just one more example of that new, powerful connection they were exploring together. 

“No, no, it’s alright. I know you don’t think of me as ‘property’. You just like that we’re… closer now.”

Relieved, her daughter smiled as she rolled her hips into Theia’s hand. “Yes, that’s… that’s better. I’m sorry for being so loud a moment ago.”

“It’s alright.” Then she kissed her cock again. “You’re still very hard. Don’t you need a break to recover?”

“Hm? Oh… I did have one before, yes, and… it is feeling a bit sore.” So Theia released her, and she sighed in relief. “Mmm… I miss it, somewhat, but I also am grateful.”

“That’s good. I’m glad we could-”

Her words cut off when she suddenly saw Pyrrha was kneeling on the floor with her, licking her cheek. What?! After a moment, she realised she was claiming the little blob of cum that had been deposited there. That was both bizarre and hot; no one had ever done that in her presence, devoured their own essence. Yes, her late husband would have no qualms about kissing her after she serviced him, but this was far above and beyond that.

“Your turn. If you want.”

“Hmmm?” was all Theia could manage at first. Then she cleared her throat and tried again. “My turn…?”

Instead of answering, her daughter was already gently easing her backward. When they bumped into the chair, she chuckled… and picked her up. So easily! Theia couldn’t help the tinkling laugh that spilled from her as her legs windmilled in the air for a moment, air whistling between her toes; that did something to her that she couldn’t even accurately describe. Through her smudged glasses, she saw her daughter smiling serenely at her as she carried her a yard or so out of the way, then knelt to gently lay her down on the carpet, even closer to the corner than they were before.

“There. No risk of bumping into furniture here.”

“Oooh, Pyrrha, I’m full of butterflies,” she confessed with a breathless grin. “I haven’t felt like this in years and years!”

Her own smile wide, Pyrrha reached down to caress gently over her mother’s face, sliding her glasses free. Why did she feel so much more naked without them than without all of her other clothing? “Then I hope to do it for you again, very soon.” 

That alone would have been wonderful - even if she did stop there. But as she watched, her daughter began to kiss her way down her chest. Over her stomach. Heading toward… 

Oh no. She really hadn’t planned for her to get so ‘close’ - hadn’t planned for anyone to. Thoughts began to race through her head as she felt her panties being shucked, detachedly watching her daughter drag them from her ankles: ‘When was the last time I shaved? Willow probably shaves clean, or does the little strip. I don’t think Pyrrha’s ready to fight through a bush. Maybe I should warn her-’

“Oh, Theiaki, you’re so beautiful.”

Too late to fend her off or even warn her; the girl was so eager that Theia’s brain didn’t have time to form protests. Thanks to her glasses being gone, she could just barely make out those stunning green eyes just above her mons, looking down, then shifting up to smile at her - even though she couldn’t see Pyrrha’s mouth.

“Wha… am I? No.”

“Yes,” she insisted before kissing the inside of her thigh. “And you can really see where my hair gene comes from.”

Well that was a little embarrassing, but Pyrrha’s glimmer of playfulness was definitely helping to keep her urges from fading. Whether it was because her body had been awakened for the first time in years, or because of the aphrodisiac, she couldn’t be sure - but she could easily go again. Even without the hot breath caressing over her obscenely wet pussy, she was so turned on now that she would have taken care of it on her own, which she almost never bothered doing. Maybe she should start taking “special baths” on a regular basis.

Evidently, she had been speechless for too long. Her daughter pressed a kiss to the wet folds, and she let out a squeaky moan that sounded so childish and silly that she clapped a hand over her mouth in sheer shame.

“Theiaki, it’s alright,” Pyrrha urged her, hands gripping her thighs. “You’re so tense. Do… you need me to stop?” At least she could shake her head. “Oh. Then tell me what you do need.”

After a brief pause to breathe, she moved her hand long enough to whisper, “You. I need you.”

"You have me," she answered in a low voice, no hesitation. The purr was equal parts sensual and ASMR, so Theia definitely felt equally relaxed and enticed.

Then that gentle tongue met her slick folds and she forgot to pay any attention to how she felt, besides ‘good’. She only had the wherewithal to cover her mouth so the noises she was making would be partially muffled; beyond that, she had no idea what she did for the next minute or so. At some point, she knew one of her legs was draping over her daughter's strong back, and she thought she remembered grabbing her hair, but those things were such a distant second place compared to the feeling Pyrrha was blessing her with that they didn't stick in her memory quite as clearly.

And she wanted to thank her. Depraved and unnatural as this might have been, she wished she could properly thank her daughter for giving something back to her that had been lost for so many years. Even if it was just for tonight.

"You seem very ready to have another orgasm," Pyrrha breathed.

"Mmm, I… definitely could. Is that alright?"

“Yes, of course.” Biting her lip for a moment, she nuzzled the inside of her thigh. “You taste wonderful, and smell divine. I had not expected to enjoy it quite so much.”

“O-oh,” Theia breathed, automatically trying to close her legs. A flash of reality hit her - she shouldn’t have let her do that, shouldn’t be doing any of this. Why had she let herself get so carried away?! “Pyrrha…”

But her daughter was already shaking her head, moving up into position. The thick cock hanging between her legs did go a long way toward helping her forget that they were about to engage in a completely forbidden act… and when she looked back up into those gorgeous eyes, at that hesitant smile, her heart melted the rest of the way. No matter how ill-advised and wrong, all she wanted in the world was to get closer to that beautiful example of womanhood - and the sweet girl it was attached to.

“Yes, Theiaki?”

All of her protests evaporated from her brain. That’s right; she was Theiaki again. Someone to be loved, who could love completely - who wasn’t alone. 

“I love you.”

Pyrrha’s smile was wide as she whispered, “I love you, too. Always have.”

“You really don’t mind? What we’re about to…?”

“No. I had never honestly considered it, and before tonight, I would not have been open to this, of course. Because it’s taboo. But seeing you in this light, and your interest in me, and…” Her breath hitched a little. “I am shocked at how much I want this now.”

“Me, too,” Theia rushed to reassure her as she reached between her legs to play with Pyrrha’s arousal. “You certainly feel like you want this - and are ready to take what is yours. I’m a little impressed, since it’s so soon after…”

Oh, that was a hard throb. Theia had to gasp when she felt the shaft very nearly jump from her hand. “Mmhh… what is… mine?”

“Was that why? You like that idea?” As her daughter nodded, she leaned up to kiss her neck and cheek. “I can be yours. I have never belonged to anyone else but my family.”

“I-I…” She suddenly claimed Theia’s mouth. Seemed there were no more words her poor daughter could come up with.

Which was all well and good, considering Theia was dying for her by this point. Of course, if her daughter had seen sense and called a halt to these proceedings, she would have backed off with no argument; what they were doing was illegal, immoral, and just a bad idea besides. But as long as this was what they both wanted, she couldn’t dream of denying her anymore.

“O-oooooh,” Pyrrha sighed as she broke off, the sensation of her mother’s wetness stretching to accommodate her girth calling a halt to the kiss. “Theiaki… you’re so… perfect for me…”

Meanwhile, Theia was in heaven. Everything so far had suggested that she would love the feeling of her sweet girl’s pretty cock filling her, but her imagination couldn’t prepare her for the real event. Either she was just far too hard up, or Pyrrha really was perfect. Which she could have told anyone who asked, with or without feeling inch after inch of thick shaft slowly forcing her hips apart. Her walls fluttered, back arched, a literal outcry erupted from her throat. Oh, her joints were going to be screaming at her in the morning.

“Alright, I… I’m in. Sorry that took so… I can’t believe- I’m really feeling you, everywhere! I am inside you!”

‘Not for the first time,’ her mind was rude enough to whisper. But she didn’t pass that thought along. “I… I feel so filled, I love it!”

“You do?”

“Of course,” she told her in a tender voice, reaching up to caress over her neck and shoulder. Her daughter’s head automatically leaned in that direction, eyelashes fluttering. “Mmhh, I… you are wonderful, I knew you would be wonderful! My little girl has never failed at something she put her mind to, and… and seeing your cock…”

Another little throb. “You did seem to like the sight of it. And it feels as good as it looked?”

“YES!” she panted - partly from the tiny thrust Pyrrha couldn’t seem to resist giving.

“Theiaki!” her daughter half-moaned, moving her hips a little more. Perhaps she shouldn’t have tried to go this many years without any sexual activity whatsoever - because now she felt like a raw clit being attacked from all directions, powerless to do anything but welcome the blindingly beautiful pleasure that crashed over her. 

And it just kept coming. How did Willow still walk after being destroyed by that gargantuan cock? Theia had never expected to take something of this size, even though Peleus had been decently-hung; she just didn’t think she would find herself with anyone bigger. Her cries were absolutely genuine and unhinged, and she was positively clinging to her daughter for stability as she rammed into her over, and over, and over.

The number of orgasms Theia was given became increasingly hazy. Three? Four? Her mind was a blur, but she knew she had at least two more after the first one through her undergarment. Possibly more. And she was already screaming with delight, so other than the fluttering and clamping of her inner walls, Pyrrha likely had no idea she enjoyed so many in a row like that - she just kept pumping that impossibly thick pillar of pure ecstasy in and out of her poor, tortured cunt.

And she loved every minute.

“Theiaki!” she finally panted. “I… I think it’s going to happen! It was elusive, I have already finished twice tonight, I… but it’s coming! I will orgasm soon!”

Oh, her precious daughter. She spoke so sweetly, so earnestly. “Then… do it! I want you to finish!”

Pyrrha drew back to gape down at her, even though her hips were still thrusting at nearly half-speed. “I-inside? Without protection? Even though I’m-”

“YES! I… I want to feel this, I need it! Need you! Please, Pyrrha? Will you… will you fill me with your love?”

“O-of course! I’ll do it at once, M- Theiaki!” Another near-miss. But she wouldn’t have minded whatever her daughter called her; she just wanted to stay close to her, like this, forever.

Another minute of carnal brutality did it. Theia felt rubbed raw by the time she felt those telltale throbs all throughout her southern lands, a slight splash of juices. Obviously most of that had been spent on her face and in her throat but it was nice to know she was able to coax a little more from her daughter at the finish. And regardless, it was one of the most incredible things she had ever experienced in her sorry little life. Thanks to her not-so-little girl and her not-so-little cock.

When she was finally through, Pyrrha came to a stop with a long groan, arms shivering slightly with the effort of supporting her own weight. “Ohhh… oh, I wanted… I liked… mmm…”

“I agree,” Theia laughed weakly, tracing her fingers up and down the sweat-soaked back of her only child. “That was… mmm, so good…”

“It was. I… I felt you, Mother. You were moving around me, your…” She swallowed. “Your vaginal muscles.”

Chuckling again, she kissed her neck. “I really did raise the sweetest daughter in the world.”

“Yes. I, um… I think I should probably remove myself. I’m starting to ache, and I’m sure you’re much the-”

“MMHHHAH!”

Pyrrha froze in place upon hearing that sharp moan. She had suddenly pulled her hips back a few inches, and the pleasure was so overpowering that she couldn’t suppress it - not even partially. “Theiaki?” she questioned.

“I-it’s alright. You can keep going, just ignore… those sounds.”

“But I want you to enjoy yourself. If you can go further, I… could go further with you.”

Her brow creased slightly as she looked up at her valiant girl. “You already said you’re starting to ache. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Well, yes, but I… must be able to help somehow.” 

“No, no, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. But I think you can still help. Just… stay where you are.”

Her daughter looked so fascinated and bewildered as her mother reached between their bodies and began to ruin her clit. Knowing Pyrrha was watching helped - feeling her helped. Even though she had scarcely ever even done this to herself, instincts and general knowledge took over where personal experience was lacking. Of course, once she really got going and was likely putting on a spectacular show, her daughter couldn’t keep her hips still - which was fine by her, considering everything combined made every inch of her skin feel like it was covered in IcyHot. And she was living for it.

“A-almost! Almost there! I just n-need- I need-”

“You need what? Theiaki, tell me! I… I want to make you happy!’

Somehow, that was what she needed, even though it hadn’t been what she was about to ask for. Theia Nikos came hard all over her daughter’s flawless cock yet again and couldn’t even feel sorry about it anymore, couldn’t summon a single regret. It was just so good, and she felt so wonderfully close to her that all she wanted was to rejoice in this occasion. To memorise it and hold it deep within her heart forever.

Once she was a limp noodle on the carpeted floor, Pyrrha leaned down to kiss her cheek a couple of times. Then she whispered, “Is… did you enjoy that?”

“Ohhhh yes. Mmm… Pyrrha, you’re a goddess.”

“O-oh.” A bashful chuckle told her how much her daughter had enjoyed that comparison. “W-well, in that case, I suppose I should take that as praise.” After a brief hesitation, she added, “May I… remove myself? I wouldn’t ask so soon, but i-it’s starting to hurt.”

A little “oh” fell from her mouth before she leaned up to kiss her lips. “Yes, of course, honey. Your father…” She almost stopped, but they had to face this sooner or later. Avoiding it hadn’t changed anything, and wouldn’t improve the situation. “Any time we could go more than once in the same day, he had similar complaints. But he laughed it off.”

“Awww,” Pyrrha said instead of seeming disgusted or uncomfortable. “I meant it when I said I was supportive that you had a healthy relationship; it always made me so happy.” 

Then she withdrew, and Theia lost her mind again for a few seconds. Now she was so empty… but she knew she couldn't quite go again. Her body had been tortured enough for one night. Pyrrha moved slightly to the side to curl around her body, nestling in as if she were the smaller, more feminine of the two. And in some ways, she was, even if height wasn’t one of them. Her mother tried to mentally block out that thick, mostly-hard length draping over her body, rustling the coppery hairs on her mons as they settled in for a good snuggle.

“Theiaki?” She cleared her throat. “May I call you that now, or is that only for when we’re… in coitus?”

Her mother chuckled. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say ‘coitus’ after that pause.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“What do I keep telling you about apologising so much?” When her daughter sighed, she kissed her forehead. “You can call me that whenever we’re alone together, yes. I think it might be a little too… telling if you used it other times.”

“Mm, yes, I can see what you mean. ‘Mother’ outside of the bedroom, then.” She turned just enough to look up into her eyes. “Does… this mean we shall do this again sometime? It’s not a problem if you choose not to, but I can’t pretend I wouldn’t look forward to more.”

Theia somehow managed to stop herself from blurting out a hasty answer, one way or the other. She bit her lips and took a breath. “We’ll have to see how we feel in the morning. I think… I would like that, a lot, but if one or both of us regrets this, I don’t want… there to be any inordinate expectations.”

“I know I would love it.”

“You would?”

Her shoulder shrugged up toward her jawline. Such a sweet, demure movement, and Theia felt her stomach flutter - and hated that. Why was she so easy tonight?! Something in the water, yes, but still… “I thought I had a fantastic time with Willow - and I did, of course. It was wonderful. But this? It’s…” Tracks were already rolling down from her eyes as she whispered, “I love you. I always have; I just didn’t think it was this form of love. Storge, yes, and agape… philia in recent years. But eros was the form I least expected.”

So her daughter still remembered the types of love. Peleus had been insistent on teaching their daughter a lot of things from their culture, and that was at the top of his list - since he thought the English word “love” was just far too simplistic. “I can honestly say the same. I didn’t expect this, I… didn’t expect this ever again. Much less with the person already closest to my heart.”

Pyrrha’s grin was so radiant. “Am I?”

“Oh, you already know that, asteri mu. My bright little star.”

The two Nikoses threw themselves into another deep kiss that lasted longer than Theia cared to keep track of. One of pure cherishing and need. By the time they broke apart, Pyrrha’s cheeks were wet and her smile wide and grateful. 

“I love you, Theiaki. In every type of way.”

[qotu33]

POI Fanfic: The Butler: Chapter 1, Part 2

Harold opened the door again. "Mr. Rhys, you may come in now. I apologize for keeping you waiting. This has been quite a shock, as I'm sure you're well aware by now." "Yes, sir." Mr. Rhys followed him into the office. Harold brought out his office chair from behind the desk and bade the man to sit in it while he joined Nathan on the love seat. "So, what brings you here to New York, Mr. Rhys?" Harold started. "I hear you went to school in the Netherlands for your profession?" Mr. Rhys nodded. "Yes, sir, I did. To be honest, sir, Nathan offered to fly me here for the interview and I was hoping to come back to the States." Harold nodded. That was… not the best answer he could have gotten. "Why buttling?" Mr. Rhys glanced to the side as he said, "Being of service is what I'm good at." Right. Man of few words, this one. "He's good at taking orders," Nathan had said. Harold shook his head. This was not going to go well at all. The interview dragged on as Harold did his best to scrape his brain for appropriate questions. Mr. John Rhys answered all of them in short sentences with a stony face. This gentleman could have been a poker player, or a spy, come to think of it. He wasn't letting anything slip. And it irked Harold something fierce. He himself was a very private person. But he wasn't the one answering interview questions.

When it came time for Mr. Rhys to ask any questions of his possible future employer, his first question was, "What will you have me doing, sir?" "I… honestly don't know, Mr. Rhys." "Let me rephrase that, sir. What are your needs? I can organize parties and get togethers, I have valet services-" "No. No need for that. Either of those things." Nathan snorted. "You'll have to forgive Harold. He's a very private man and he doesn't like large parties… though together, I think we can cure him of that." Nathan had the gall to wink at Mr. Rhys. Harold glared at his friend. "No. Not happening." "Honestly, Harold, would you just say yes to the poor man? He came all this way and I think he would be good for you." Oh, dear Lord, now his oldest friend was sounding like a mother attempting to foist her unsuspecting daughter off on the only potential husband available for miles. He felt his cheeks heat and turned away to get control of himself. How on earth was this going downhill so quickly?

Harold realized he was gripping the edge of his suit jacket and let it go, afraid to see wrinkles in the impeccable linen.

"I can iron that out for you, if you'd like," Mr. Rhys suggested. "Before you go out tonight."

"Out? You think I'm going-"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Nathan interrupted. "We should go out. Grab Will, if he's not too busy. We can hit up that new place downtown that I've been wanting to try out. I hear their steaks are to die for."

"Yes, well, if it's all the same to you, I've just had my life turned upside down and I'd like a quiet night in. Please." Why did it sound as if he were begging?

"Harold..." Now Nathan was whining.

Harold turned to face Mr. Rhys again.

"Do you have a place to stay? Or plans to find a place?"

"I thought you said you had a spare bedroom?"

Harold raised an enquiring eyebrow at Mr. Rhys.

"I only just arrived here, sir. I've not had the chance to find a place."

Harold sighed. Just like Nathan to rush into a new project without thinking it through. Of course the man had nothing.

"Fine. You're hired and you can have my one guest room. This will be a temporary employment, however. If after the period of one month, I determine that I do not need your services, I will be free to terminate your employment, or to adjust your services or place of residence. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please stop calling me sir. Mr. Wren will do well enough."

"Thank you, si... Mr. Wren."

Why did the man sound so wooden all the time? It was like he was hiring a robot.

"Let's show Mr. Ingram out the front door and I will show you around."

[little-mouse-adventures]

4 headcanons meme for Butler!! :D

okay so this is literally from a month ago and i do not remember what the actual prompt thingy was BUT i know one of them was like... a sad headcanon or something, which my brain took as "hey how does Butler react when Juliet has to kill someone for the first time" and now here we are, a month later, with nearly 3k words about that. so that was fun.

“…east wing has a staff corridor that we can –” The Major cut off his description of the best exit route should things at Mr. Fowl’s upcoming meeting go sideways as the intercom sounded. He glanced towards it, and then at his nephew, who gave a slight nod and moved to answer the ringing phone.

Artemis the First was asking just how crammed the staff corridor would be when Butler stepped back into the room.

“Excuse me. May I be dismissed for a few minutes, sir?”

“Whatever for?” Major Butler asked. “Deliveries ‘round the back, everyone else can be seen into the sitting room by the maid.”

“It’s… Juliet’s back. The taxi’s coming up the drive now.”

“Juliet? I had thought we weren’t expecting her for another three weeks,” Artemis the Second chimed in.

“Yes, she’s returning early.” Butler answered his employer but kept his eyes on his uncle’s. There were precious few reasons Madam Ko would allow an acolyte to return early from the Academy. None of them were pleasant.

“Of course, you can go. In fact, I think a break would be good for all of us.” Artemis Senior said. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s go say hello to Juliet, and then I think it’s about time for tea.”

The Fowl patriarch stood up from his custom-made leather chair at the head of the table, giving no one a chance to argue with him. He passed his arm over his son’s shoulders and spoke to him quietly about the behaviour he expected of him at the meeting as they walked down the stairs towards the front door, sandwiched between Butler in front of them and Major taking up the rear.

Butler tried not to hurry. If Juliet was seriously injured, Madam Ko would have called ahead. Still, though, something must be wrong with his baby sister, and worry coiled through his stomach like a snake.

Watching her step out of the taxi, though, nothing seemed immediately wrong. No limp, no casts or slings, no telltale hunching that would indicate broken ribs or damaged internal organs. A concussion was unlikely to be reason enough to send her home, which really limited the possibilities for why –

When she turned around, bag slung over her shoulder, Butler took one look in her eyes and knew immediately why she’d been given early leave. He saw her catch sight of the two Fowls standing between him and their uncle, and she made a valiant effort to put on the professional mask Blue Diamond bodyguards wore unthinkingly.

“Hello,” she said, and managed a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Sir, permission to take the rest of the day off,” Butler requested.

Artemis Junior started. “A few minutes to say hello, certainly Butler, but the rest of the afternoon? What about Mother’s request for dinner at Bozzini’s later?”

“Granted. Tomorrow, too. Unless…Major, any objections?”

“None, sir.”

“Father, what – “

“Not now, Artemis. Welcome back, Juliet. Take all the time you need to get settled.”

Artemis Junior was even more shocked at his father’s tone than his bodyguard’s request. He couldn’t recall Father using that kind of gentleness used except when speaking with Mother.

“Thank you, sir,” Juliet’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her brother moved forward and draped his arm across her back. She managed another smile, slightly stronger this time, for her uncle, who nodded and lightly squeezed her shoulder as Butler led her through the entryway.

Artemis Junior was thoroughly puzzled. And slightly irritated. At nine, he knew better than to ask what was going on after being told not to by his father, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was the only person in the group didn’t know something. He didn’t like the feeling.

Everyone else was deeply grateful the young boy hadn’t yet seen first-hand what someone looked like after having committed their first murder.

~~~~

Butler led Juliet down the hall to the wing of the Manor set aside for the Butlers in residence and their families. He didn’t offer to take her bag. He knew how prideful she was at being able to handle things on her own, and how much it mattered to maintain the feeling of control after taking a life. He could feel her slight trembling and opted to guide her into his own room, rather than hers.

“Do you want a shower?” he asked.

Juliet shook her head.

Usually, when she returned from the Academy, she was nearly bouncing off the walls, and chattered endlessly. Now, though, she just stood in the middle of the room, silent, still, looking as lost as she had when she was four and told her parents wouldn’t be coming back.

Butler helped her guide the heavy field kit off her shoulder and put it beside his own bag near the door. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Juliet shook her head again. Then she turned to look at him, and he saw the tears well up in her eyes.

Butler wrapped his arms around her tightly with a deep sigh. “C’mere, baby sister,” he murmured.

She broke against him, leaning into his chest and throwing her own arms around his waist, holding on like his presence was the only thing keeping her from falling completely apart. Sobs tore out of her throat. Butler felt her knees buckle and caught her weight easily.

“Alright. Alright now. I’ve got you,” he said into her hair. “I’ve got you now. You’re alright. Everything’s alright.” Butler continued to speak quietly, offering gentle reassurance, as he carried his little sister to the bed. He settled her on his lap and tucked her head under his chin, like she was seven years old again and waking up from a nightmare.

They sat like that for some time, Juliet’s tears soaking her brother’s shirt, her sobs nearly drowning out the lullaby he was humming as he rocked them both back and forth. Eventually, exhausted, Juliet’s uncontrolled keening settled into shaking breaths and hiccups. She didn’t let go of her brother.

Butler leaned back slightly to look at his sister. He pushed some of her hair off her forehead before reaching for a tissue from the box on his bedside table and holding it to her nose. “Blow,” he ordered.

“I’ll get you all snotty,” Juliet argued.

“Bit late for that,” Butler countered, which coaxed a watery smile out of Juliet. She blew her nose noisily and reached for the tissue to wipe her face. Butler snatched it away and wordlessly handed her another.

Neither spoke. Butler knew how this went. He’d gone through it himself. He’d helped younger acolytes through it, and even some young colleagues after he’d graduated. It was a natural and expected consequence of their career. That didn’t stop his heart from breaking for his baby sister.

She leaned against him again, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. Butler could feel the dampness of fresh tears against his neck as she turned her face into him. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her as she quietly cried.

Eventually, the hand she’d fisted in his shirt tightened and she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I… I just… grabbed him, his head, from behind, after Tony shot his leg, and I just…” Juliet stuttered. The tears and memories made her gasp. “I just twisted… and he… I could feel him… just…”

“Alright, easy now. Easy,” Butler said.

“He just died! He just fell! One second, he was alive, and had a gun, and I was behind him, and then he was just… just dead!” She couldn’t seem to stop crying. Her throat was raw, her nose stuffed, her eyes sore. And still she couldn’t stop the tears.  It was all she could do breathlessly cling to the solid weight of her brother while the scene played out again and again in her mind.

Butler pressed his cheek to her hair and squeezed her tightly. “I’m sorry,” he told her, knowing it was inadequate, but all he had. “That’s a hard thing to process. Especially for your first time.”

“Have you ever…”

“Yes.”

Juliet nodded silently and pressed herself closer against Butler, desperate for the support he offered. He took the chance to shift their positions slightly, so he was leaning against the headboard instead of sitting at the edge of his bed. Juliet shuffled off his lap when he did but curled up against his side, not willing to relinquish the comforting weight of his arm. Butler tucked a strand of Juliet’s hair behind her ear, and when she leaned into the touch, started lightly stroking his hand down her braid.

Thoughts and emotions swirled about in Juliet’s mind. Slowly, the tumult died down. The quiet, steady rhythm of her brother’s breath and heartbeat and hand gave her something to focus on, to use as a backdrop of consistency to settle the maelstrom of emotions.

“When you… the first time you…” Juliet paused. Questions sat heavy on her mind, the words on the tip of her tongue. It was indescribably hard to face what she’d done. She was, and forever would be, a different person now than she had been before. But different didn’t mean wrong. Her family was proof of that. Still, she needed the confirmation that she wasn’t alone in this. She took a deep breath and tried again. “The first time you killed someone. What was it like?”

She felt more than heard her brother’s sigh. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“We were ambushed, and my squad leader took a bullet in the arm trying to shield our Principal. It made him drop his gun. The enemy still had his, was still aiming at us. I picked up the gun. Fired. He took it in the chest.” Butler’s voice got quiet. “I remember how focussed I was on him. Not while I shot. But after. It wasn’t an immediately fatal shot, and I could hear him breathing. Trying to breathe. I must’ve got him in the lung. It was that kind of gurgling, choking… even over the screaming of our Principal, the orders of my squad leader – he’d gotten himself sorted, grabbed the pistol of one of our fallen, and started shooting back. Even over the screaming and the shooting, I could hear him trying to breathe. And then, suddenly, I couldn’t.”

Juliet had tilted her head back to look up at Butler as he spoke. He didn’t seem to notice, though he did keep absently passing his hand over her hair.

“How old were you?”

“Twelve,” he said, then let out a short huff of mirthless laughter. “Twenty-five years ago, now. I didn’t realize that.”

There was no regret in his voice. There was no sorrow. But there was a quiet, calm pensiveness to it that did more to relax the tension in Juliet’s muscles than she had thought possible.

She had spent years being told she would eventually have to kill someone in in her training, or line of work. It had seemed like a game before.

Her brother, her uncle, her senseis… all had tried to drive home that murder, even for a good reason, was not going to sit lightly on the soul. She hadn’t really believed them. She’d seen her family shrug it off. Her tutors talked about it like it was nothing. After snapping a man’s neck in her bare hands, though… even a decade of psychological indoctrination and practice in personal debriefing and emotional regulation couldn’t quite prepare a fourteen-year-old for that kind of trauma.

A wave of calmness hit her as she realized that her brother didn’t just shrug off killing, that the memories of it still made him pause.

“Does it get easier?”

“Hmm?”

“Not the… killing. I don’t think I’d want that to get easier. But the… processing.”

“No. But you get better at it. You learn what works for you and what doesn’t, and how to constructively handle the emotions and physical reactions.”

Juliet nodded. One of the first things acolytes learned at Madam Ko’s was identification, sorting, and processing various emotions. As ten-year-olds, it didn’t always work, but the basics were there. In hindsight, Juliet could see just how much of her tutelage had been based around the methods with which one could center oneself during and after traumatic events.

She was surprised to find herself unconsciously using some of those tools. Madam Ko hadn’t let her leave the Academy until she, her sensei, one of the psychologists on site, and Madam Ko herself had sat down and worked through the immediate aftermath, but Juliet hadn’t been aware of just how effective her compartmentalization skills had gotten until she was sitting at home and able to unpack everything around those who wouldn’t judge her, and would support her no matter what.

When a quiet knock sounded at Butler’s door, Juliet made to sit up, to look professional and grown up. Her brother’s arm tightened around her, and he pulled her back down against him.

“Come in,” he said, and the Major opened the door and walked through. He had a tray balanced on one arm, and Juliet’s stomach growled as she smelled the homemade spaghetti sauce that had always been her preferred comfort food. She didn’t remember when she last ate something besides airplane peanuts, the weight of what she’d done heavy in her stomach.

“I figured you two hadn’t eaten,” Major said as he put the tray down on the bedside table. He raised an eyebrow at his nephew for the clutter already on the surface – consisting only of a cell phone, charge cable, pistol magazine, novel, tissue box, and bottle of Tylenol – before sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at his niece. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’ll help.”

The teenager took the offered bowl, careful of the hot edges. She leaned back against her brother, not yet trusting herself to not fall apart without the support – emotional and physical – his presence provided. For his part, Butler settled his own meal on his lap so he could eat it one-handed.

“We still need to talk directions,” Major said to Butler.

“Of course. You were saying the staff corridor, east side? Isn’t that the staff fire escape?”

“Yes, but if it’s viable it exits closest to the car park. There’s another exit, bit more awkward to get to, at the southeast entrance by the coat check. That’ll be the backup.”

Juliet sat quietly as she listened to the soothing depth of the voices of her family as they talked shop. They didn’t seem to pay her much mind, but as soon as she was done eating large hands took her bowl away and pressed a large bottle of water into them. She drank it slowly, head on her brother’s chest. The steady rumble of his voice and thump of his heart had her eyelids drooping, but every time they closed, she saw the same image of a dark-haired corpse falling to the ground, surprise and pain on his face, and she jerked awake again.

“You need to rest, kiddo.” Juliet started as her uncle’s hand landed on her knee. “You’ll be alright, but you need to rest.”

Juliet bit her lip. She didn’t want to leave this cozy little corner of the world just yet, with her family around her. “I know. Can I… can I stay here?”

Butler shifted so he could lever Juliet over him and onto the floor. She reacted automatically, feet planting themselves firmly even though her legs were numb from the hours she had sat curled up. Her uncle had stood at the same time, and immediately reached out to pull her into another hug.

Butler stood as well and pulled the covers down on his bed. The Major picked Juliet back up and put her in the middle of the big bed before resting his hand on her head for just a moment. “You’ll be fine, Juliet. Just rest.”

He stepped back and nodded at Butler. “Let me know if I can expect you in the morning,” he said. Butler nodded back.

The Major left the room, taking the dishes with him and closing the door with a quiet click. Juliet glanced at him as he left, but then watched her brother as he tucked her in and settled back down onto the edge of the bed.

Butler ran one large thumb over his sister’s brow, wanting to ease the pain he saw in her eyes.

“Close your eyes, Jules. It’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.”

Juliet shook her head. She didn’t want to see the endless repetition of what she’d done.

“Juliet. Close your eyes.” Butler’s voice was firm.

Juliet took a deep breath doing as she was told, hands curling into fists in the covers.

“Just relax,” Butler murmured. “Just relax, recognize what happened. Recognize it was a different place, a different time. You’re here now. You’re here now, and it’s over. You did what you had to do, and it’s done. You’re safe, you’re here.” He kept repeating much the same, continuing to stroke her forehead to ground her, until he felt her shudders slow and her muscles relax.

“Dom?” Juilet murmured, taking the chance that given the circumstances, she could use her brother’s given name.

“Hmm?”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course, baby sister.”

Juliet’s smile was weak and watery, but genuine, and stayed with her as she fell asleep.

[nocodehackathon]

How to Write an Impressive Cover Letter for a Summer Internship

A well-crafted cover letter can be the key to landing your dream summer internship. It’s your chance to make a great first impression and stand out from other applicants. Here’s a step-by-step guide to writing an impressive cover letter that highlights your strengths and enthusiasm for the position.

1. Understand the Purpose of a Cover Letter

A cover letter is more than just a formality; it’s your opportunity to showcase your personality, skills, and fit for the internship role. Unlike your resume, which lists your qualifications, the cover letter allows you to explain how your experiences align with the internship and why you’re passionate about the opportunity.

2. Do Your Research

Before you start writing, research the company and the role you’re applying for. Understand the company's values, mission, and the specifics of the internship position. Tailoring your cover letter to reflect this research shows that you’ve done your homework and are genuinely interested in the role.

3. Start with a Strong Opening

Begin your cover letter with a strong opening that grabs attention. Address it to a specific person if possible, such as the hiring manager or internship coordinator. If you don’t have a name, use a general greeting like “Dear Hiring Team.” Your opening should briefly introduce who you are and why you’re excited about the opportunity.

Example Opening:

“Dear Ms. Johnson,

I am excited to apply for the Summer Marketing Internship at ABC Company. As a junior majoring in Marketing at XYZ University, I have been following ABC’s innovative campaigns and am eager to contribute to your team’s success this summer.”

4. Highlight Relevant Skills and Experiences

In the body of your cover letter, focus on your relevant skills and experiences. Use specific examples to demonstrate how your background aligns with the requirements of the internship. If you’ve had previous internships, projects, or coursework that are pertinent, mention them and explain how they’ve prepared you for this role.

Example Body:

“During my coursework in digital marketing, I developed a comprehensive social media campaign for a class project, which increased engagement by 30% over the course of the semester. This experience honed my skills in content creation and analytics, which I believe will be valuable for your internship program. Additionally, my role as a marketing assistant at my university’s student organization allowed me to further develop my skills in market research and team collaboration.”

5. Show Enthusiasm and Fit

Employers want to see that you’re not only qualified but also enthusiastic about the role and the company. Explain why you’re specifically interested in this internship and how it fits into your career goals. Showing genuine interest and alignment with the company’s values can set you apart from other candidates.

Example Enthusiasm Statement:

“I am particularly drawn to ABC Company because of your commitment to innovation and community engagement. I am excited about the prospect of working with a team that values creativity and collaboration, and I am eager to bring my passion for marketing and my proactive approach to your dynamic environment.”

6. Conclude with a Call to Action

End your cover letter with a call to action, expressing your eagerness to discuss your application further. Thank the reader for their time and consideration. A strong closing reinforces your interest and encourages the reader to take the next step.

Example Closing:

“Thank you for considering my application for the Summer Marketing Internship. I am enthusiastic about the opportunity to contribute to ABC Company and would welcome the chance to discuss how my background and skills align with your needs. I look forward to the possibility of speaking with you further.”

7. Proofread and Edit

Before sending your cover letter, thoroughly proofread it for any grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or awkward phrasing. An error-free cover letter demonstrates professionalism and attention to detail. Consider having someone else review it as well to catch anything you might have missed.

Elevating Your Internship Program

If you’re looking to elevate and host a summer internship program that provides opportunities like Data Structures and Algorithms (DSA internships, consider the following tips:

Clearly Define the Internship Roles and Goals: Make sure that the roles and expectations are well-defined. Include detailed descriptions of what interns will be working on, the skills they’ll develop, and the goals of the internship program.

Provide Hands-On Experience: Offer real-world projects and challenges that will give interns practical experience. For DSA internships, provide opportunities to work on algorithmic problems, coding challenges, and contribute to meaningful projects.

Mentorship and Feedback: Assign mentors to guide interns through their projects and provide constructive feedback. Regular check-ins can help ensure that interns are on track and gaining valuable experience.

Foster a Collaborative Environment: Encourage collaboration among interns and with full-time staff. A team-oriented environment helps interns learn and grow, while also contributing to a positive workplace culture.

Offer Networking Opportunities: Organize events where interns can meet and network with professionals in their field. This can be valuable for their career development and provide insights into potential future opportunities.

Promote Your Program: Use various channels, such as social media, university career centers, and industry events, to promote your internship program and attract top talent.

By following these steps and ensuring that your cover letter is well-crafted, you can significantly improve your chances of landing a great summer internship and make a strong impression on potential employers.

[petrichoraline]

hi petri i'm here just to vent and you can totally just ignore this but last week i finally had a job interview (after so many soooo many days of being rejected or straight up ignored lol) and even though it wasn't a job a really wanted to do i was ready to go, excited even, but then the day before anxiety started getting to me, like from 0 to 100 i started getting these horrible thought about how everything was gonna go wrong and how i always fuck everything up and how i have no future so who fucking cares etc etc (so self depreciating it makes me wanna throw up and hide from shame tbh) (also i'm on antidepressants and anxiolytics in general since a couple of months now and even though at first i noticed nothing i thought they were begining to work on me... i've been in an extremely scary dark place and i really don't wanna go back to that) and i thought i got this interview i thought this was things starting to change but on the day i was supposed to go i literally shut down, idk how to explain it i just couldn't bear getting out of bed or seeing anyone the thought of even interacting with someone paralized me................ i didn't go and it was a bad day, a really bad one, i feel like i'm on square one once again, i couldn't even phone them i'm so embarrassed and disappointed in me and just... i hate myself... i hate this i hate how much it takes from me to do normal fucking things i hate how my body and mind fuck me up all the time and work against me and i'm so weak i can't fight them i just so hopeless and bad and not worthy anyone's time, this illness is taking so much from me, it's been years and it keeps happening....... sorry for this i needed to let it out and you seem like an honest kind person....... sorry

hey love 💕

now, excuse me if my response is a bit all over the place, i am tired but i insist on answering this as soon as possible <3

first, i am touched that you find me a safe enough person to go to and your words mean a lot to me, thank you for that 💓 sometimes it feels like you can't share with people around you and you need an outlet so i understand. i have welcomed similar messages in the past so i see why you would come to me :) you say you want to vent but i will express my thoughts and advice which you can feel just as free to ignore.

i get that feeling that comes with failing an agreement and then dreading the consequences, wanting to own up to it but not feeling able to pick up the phone. it's an awful awful thing to go through and i feel for you. it is something that you must do, though, at least that's how I see it. even aside from possible benefit for yourself, you have to express respect towards the team for their time and the opportunity. i know it sucks, I know you're contemplating all the possible responses but trust me, it's one call that can make a big change. even if the offer is off the table, you will be more at peace, I guarantee it. they can be mean about it (though professionalism will make them snarky at best) but chances are they have no clue why you didn't show up so they could just as easily just be worried and confused rather than angry. you have the chance to sincerely apologise and thank them and you will not know what they think unless you talk to them. for such calls i get myself some water, breathe a lot, chant encouragements and dial the number. one way you can prepare yourself is writing down what you want to say, don't rush it, you can do bulletpoints or write down the whole thing from start to finish - just have something to give you some security when you're afraid you can't find the words. going through the script beforehand will also make you more confident in what you want to communicate.

aside from this particular employer and your relationship with them, making a call would boost your assurance and you'll be a bit more confident next time you need to do something unpleasant. I am more than sure you can do it and I believe in you.

another very very important point- no such thing as back at square one. healing and growth are never linear, messing up along the way is only natural and DOES NOT erase all the time you've spent moving forward. you are not back anywhere, you're just at a crossroad. you need some time to reasses and give yourself time to breathe and that is okay. you are trying, you are thinking, you are feeling, you are moving but only forwards because life goes forwards and it isn't leaving you behind. a pause may feel scary because you shift your focus to things that didn't work out instead of exciting things that are yet to come. it's okay to pause though. it really is. you are NOT failing, if anything I find it admirable how much you want to make things work. and I truly believe you can and you will and it will all work out.

I am sorry you are going through this, I cannot replace a professional, I cannot be the tools and person to make it better but I feel for you and I hurt for you and you are not alone. there is a person who knows how far away from you who is shedding tears because they want you to feel better so strongly. I'm not saying this for you to go all "oh no I made her cry" because it is possible your mind will say something stupid to you like that - I am saying it because I want you to know you are not alone. and you are very worthy. of love, of success, of every little thing you think is unreachable right now because you've been tired for so long. you are loved and there are people out there who want you to be okay. you are not at fault for what your mind does. it's your body, it's processes you are not at fault for and you have to be more gracious towards yourself. no reason to hate yourself, genuinely none at all. you are in pain and you are dealing with it as best as you can and that is something you deserve credit for, it's commendable.

the job market is stressful as fuuckk even without facing what you're going through, be kinder to yourself! i am so scared of interviews but talking to people with stable jobs you'll know - sometimes you have to do over dozens and dozens of interviews and just grow a thick skin for it, it's an actual skill. you have to understand these people have so much on their minds that aside from considering you for the position they don't pay you much mind (one of my problems is contemplating what interviewers think of me as a person - they don't. they clock out and im out of their thoughts); they're just people doing their jobs, you are not failing their expectations nor are they some superior beings you have to show fear in front of. you're just participating in a waltz they dance with others and you should dance with other employers. you will not get certain jobs and that is fine, every interview is practicing for the next which is also very valuable.

I understand right now you may need some time but I think keeping it moving could help you grow accustomed to the whole thing that is job hunting and not setting your focus on this one instance and self-pitying. and that's why i think you should go for that call, you could get a second chance but even if you don't clearing things up will help you moving on from it rather than thinking of it each time you apply.

things can go wrong but things can also have the amazing ability to go right. and you can stumble but you can also do really really well! because people are fluid and are capable of more than they think, you can move in either direction so as you consider how things can actually go absolutely fine :)

I will always always recommend professional advice and help, though i have my experience I base my comments on, i cannot provide you with the needed expertise that you deserve. please talk to someone, considering you are on prescribed medication right now I assume there are means by which you could talk to someone more competent. I know what things coming back again and again for years is like, it's torture. and i need you to keep fighting because it truly is a fight, it's tiresome and it's lonesome but you have to. you owe it to yourself and you deserve to keep your head above the water until you don't have to strain to do so.

but you have got to realise people don't hate you for it and if they do they are ignorant and you don't need them, let alone their approval. i was considering answering you without publishing the message itself but I believe it will resonate with more people than you think and there will be more people out there keeping you in their thoughts and there is so much beauty and power in that.

again, I apologise for the messy reply, I feel like there are many more things I want to say and maybe better and kinder ways to put them but this is all I can muster up right now. I am sending you so much love and a warm hug. i am proud of you. you have so much power and strength and i hope you get comfort to accompany them.

[thevalleyisjolly]

Proof that miracles do exist: That I have somehow ever been hired for any job despite the fact that for years, my email profile picture was a goofy picture of me in costume for a high school project because I couldn’t figure out how to change it on Mac until now, meaning that for the last six years, the icon on all of my emails, professional and otherwise, has been a photo of me dressed as shepherd with a fake moustache.