#it just is and the kind of person who needs an explanation that satisfies their worldview is hard for me to talk to

[bookshelf-in-progress]

What If? is the question that drives most retellings. This works best with the well-known fairy tales. Everyone knows the original story, so readers will be interested in how you twist it.

You can change

Plot: What if Cinderella didn't go to the ball?

Character: What if Snow White was evil?

Setting/Genre: What if Sleeping Beauty was set on a spaceship?

Theme: What if Beauty and the Beast was about family love instead of romance?

There's a variation of the plot What If? that asks:

What's Next?: What happens after Cinderella marries the prince?

In this case, you're writing a sequel. The fairy tale is backstory, and your story is something new.

There's also a mash-up What If? that asks:

What if these two stories were combined?: What if the prince in Cinderella was also the Beast in Beauty and the Beast?

Here, the readers are pulled through the story because they want to see how the plot and characters of these stories fit together into something new.

In all these cases, What If? is the question that motivates your readers. They want to see how your changes make for a different story.

With traditional retellings, you have to ask different questions. You want to tell a story with the same plot, characters, and setting as the original--maybe because you love the original story so much, maybe because you're retelling an obscure tale. But then what's the point of your story? What question are you going to answer in a way that can't be satisfied by reading the original tale?

The questions that work best here are:

Why?: In fairy tales, things usually happen "just because". There's very little explanation of why events happen a certain way or why characters act the way they do. Asking Why? allows your story to give an answer that explains confusing or ambiguous points in the original story.

Who?: Fairy tales don't dig very deeply into the psychology of their characters. A retelling allows you to enter into the perspective of one of the characters and explore what it would be like to live through the events of the story. What kind of person acts the way this character does? What fears and hopes motivate them? What do they think about the events of the story?

There's a variation of Who? that asks:

Who is telling the story?: This is your classic POV switch. Your story can have the same plot, setting, and characters as the original, but if you focus on the viewpoint of someone other than the traditional main character--the love interest, the villain, a side character, a confused bystander--you can wind up with a very different, sometimes almost entirely original story.

Almost every retelling needs to answer at least one Why? question. Even if it's a minor plot point, your story should offer a clarification or a rationale behind some element of the original. Asking Who? is a great way to expand upon the fairy tale and make it something more psychologically complex. First-person point-of-view is very helpful in this case, because it instantly adds something new to your telling of the story, even if you follow every beat of the original tale.

What If? retellings also need to answer Why? and Who?, but they're not the driving force in the same way that they have to be for traditional retellings. What If? allows for a twist that's the driving force behind the story, but when you're not changing anything, the depth that Why? and Who? provide is crucial to making your story feel new.

[transfaguette]

truly one of the biggest pet peeves of mine is when someone is faced with a non mainstream identity and they say “I don’t understand it but I respect it!” like i don’t think you realize what constantly being told “I fundamentally don’t understand you and am comfortable making no attempt to try!” does to a person.

[homunculus-argument]

Hii I'm asking you this because I've seen you post about Finnish grammar and stuff before. So I'm learning Finnish, and I also use duolingo because like free practice and duolingo keeps giving me this word but they refuse to translate it. Please I need to know what pulla means because in my native language it means dick and the duolingo characters keep asking for this mysterious pulla item with coffee and until I find out all my brain can hear is "i want coffee and dick please"

It's a type of finnish pastry, traditionally offered to visiting guest with coffee. A type of sweet bread roll made from wheat flour and flavoured with cardamom, generally with nib sugar sprinkled on top, as pictured above. They look and sound very simple, but they're surprisingly hard to make. Much like in baking bread, you've got to get the temperatures just right for the dough to rise, because yeast will die out of pure spite rather than let you succeed.

One particular reason why they're so iconic and beloved in Finland is because they take skill to bake and also don't keep well. They're delicious when they're fresh from the oven, but in 48 hours that delicious steaming roll is a solid dry rock that you could use as a makeshift hammer and tastes like crumbs and sadness. So in order to have them fresh, someone has to have baked them specifically for you, or at least the same morning.

You probably would have been satisfied with just the first sentence of this post for explanation, but I got started running my mouth and I'm having fun so I'm going to go on.

Pulla is one of those distinct cultural things that one grows up with that is so mundane and commonplace where you've grown up that it surprises you to hear that it's not universal. In finnish the term for a stereotypical idealised maternal domestic goddess housewife is "pullantuoksuinen kotiäiti" - literally "stay-at-home mother that smells like pulla". I've heard the expression used both as genuinely praising and snidely dismissive way to describe a woman who wants to be a mother and homemaker instead of having a career, but that's how much of a deal pulla is to finnish culture.

You can describe a person as "pulla-scented", and everyone can immediately picture what kind of a person this is. Someone who is a skilled enough homemaker to make good pulla, whose home is warm and welcoming because it smells like freshly baked pulla, which she has baked for you because she loves you.

I have plenty of things I was planning to do today and writing an essay about pulla was not one of them.

[taeghi]

casual | teaser

full release : read here

you thought you could handle being casual with notorious fratboy!heeseung, but when feelings get involved, you soon realize that 'casual' isn't so simple.

PAIRING : fratboy!heeseung x reader

GENRE : smut, fwb to lovers, enemies? to lovers?? & a little angst?? + 5 smut scenes lol

WC : probs 20k

taglist : ???

YOU LOVE CASUAL SEX.

you've always prided yourself on being the type who keeps things casual. it's not that you're afraid of commitment; rather, you find comfort in the simplicity of fucking and then never seeing the person again. there’s no messy entanglements or feelings. it’s a way to satisfy your desires without the emotional baggage that comes with more serious relationships.

you’d rather be alone, but you still have fun with your friends when you go out. you've never been content with surface-level explanations or shallow interactions. you crave depth, in people and experiences. which you have found to be, truthfully, hard in today’s day and age. 

you’re sensitive to most things, so you try to cover it up– protect yourself– with all the partying, the drinking, the sex. 

and tonight, like every other normal friday night; you’re at a party. 

there’s a familiar thump of music and loud chatter around you that you’ve grown accustomed to. yooyeon and gracie, your closest friends are an inseparable couple, are by your side. they've been together for what feels like forever, the kind of relationship that makes you simultaneously envious and relieved you're not in a relationship.

as you continue to sip your drink, yooyeon leans in with her knowing smile, “so, y/n,” teases, “have you decided when you’re gonna settle down? find yourself a nice guy and stop with all these one night stands?” 

you roll your eyes playfully, used to this conversation. "never," you reply with a grin, "casual hookups forever, remember?"

gracie chuckles, shaking her head fondly. "come on, yn," she chimes in, her voice warm with affection, “you know it’s gonna have to get boring at some point.” 

you shrug nonchalantly, though their words do make you pause for a moment. "maybe someday," you concede, though deep down, you're not so sure. relationships have never been your thing, and the thought of settling down feels suffocating.

"come on, yn," yooyeon nudges you gently, her expression softening, "we love you just the way you are. but don't close yourself off to the possibility, okay?"

you nod, grateful for their understanding. deep down, you know they're right—they always are. but for now, you want to find someone to relieve the ache that’s been in your core all day. 

you turn to gracie, the one who always knows all the drama on your college campus, “who is here that i can hook up with?” 

gracie rolls her eyes and looks around the crowded frat house, “hm,” she thinks outloud, “well jeongin and bella broke up this week…” 

you shake your head, “too soon, i don’t want to be a potential rebound for him.” 

yooyeon scoffs and continues to drink, listening to your guys’ conversation. 

“how about,” gracie, “mark? he’s real chatty though.”

you groan, “then no.”

gracie goes on a small list of people that she sees around, but none of them suffice. none of them are your type or seem to be able to satisfy you. you tell your friends that you’re going to go get another drink– you’ll need one. 

the kitchen table has a handful of drinks to choose from. there’s punch and beer and vodka, half of it has been spilt all over said table. 

“the punch is good,” a voice suddenly says from beside you. 

when you turn, you instantly recognize him– he’s one of the frat boys that lives in this house, maybe the most popular one of them all. 

lee heeseung stands beside you with an air of confidence that is probably more on the cocky side. his posture is relaxed yet demeaning. his hair is tousled and his clothes give off a carefree attitude. 

pretty much everyone at your college knows lee heeseung from his parties, his stories, the multiple girls he has slept with. you’ve heard enough stories about him to write an entire book, yet his entire persona is more annoying than appealing to you. his entire act is one that you’ve seen played out too many times before. 

“good to know,” you say and grab a beer instead. 

heeseung raises his eyebrow at your choice, “i’m heeseung.” his voice is smooth and cuts through the noise of the party. 

you take a sip of your beer, “i know who you are.” you reply bounty, not bothering to hide your disinterest.

intrigued by your coldness, “right,” he acknowledges with a smirk, “and i know who you are.” 

“congrats," you say dryly, with a fake excitement to your tone. 

heeseung suddenly leans in closer to you and whispers into your ear, his voice low, "you're the girl who only does casual sex, right?"

you're taken aback by his boldness, but there's a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "i might be,"

heeseung smirks down at you at your answer. you let yourself think that maybe the notorious fuckboy is pretty handsome. his complexion seemingly glows, his eyes are full of a flirty playfulness, and his smile is charming enough. 

“well, do you wanna have casual sex with me?” 

if it wasn’t lee heeseung standing in front of you, you would be surprised. 

instead, you let out a groan, your face contorts in disgust, “god no.” 

heeseung tilts his head, “why not? i thought you were into that.” 

“because you’re like a walking std.” 

instead of getting offended like you had hoped, heeseung bursts out laughing in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes squinting. 

"damn, straight to the point," he manages between chuckles, clearly amused by your blunt response. 

you roll your eyes, trying not to let his laughter get under your skin. "just being honest," you retort, though there's a hint of begrudging amusement in your tone. 

“i’ll see you around, y/n.” 

you turn on your heel, your back already faced him when you reply, “no, you won’t.”

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[littlemoonastrology]

Astro Observations: The Moon ☽

The Moon represents aspects of our cognition and emotion: our memory, comfort zones, reactions, the way we feel fulfilled, where we are satisfied, the way we feel connected to others, nurture ourselves and others, and our intuition.

Not only that, but the Moon can also tell us what aspect of our life we need to nurture, watch over and protect in order to grow and how. When we direct this energy in the right area, it becomes easier to express and allows us to feel more fulfilled in life.

When the Moon is satisfied, it is how you know you are on the right path. Follow your dreams and become the person you want to be - the Moon will guide you... just be careful not to become too emotionally tied to things, overprotective, clingy - sometimes the Moon can also signify what you need to let go of in order to become the best version of you.

What you can also do to learn about this, is see where Cancer is in your chart (or see what sign your 4th House falls in, including the Planets inside of it)!

If you are someone with a Cancer Stellium (like me!); nurturing yourself, self improvement, letting go of things that don't serve you, feeling satisfied and comfortable (whilst still reaching your goals), becoming an individual whilst still feeling comfortable with people may be a priority for you. This may also mean you feel highly tied to your Moon placement, so follow it!

To see a brief explanation of what the Moon means in the Houses, see below!

~

Moon in 1st : You feel at your best when you are making the right impression to people, nurture your appearance and projects you find make you the happiest. You are highly intuitive, able to scope out people's intentions quickly (but this may also mean you could be the sort of person to wear your emotions on your sleeve) - be careful not to let people take advantage of you and manipulate you. Let go of those that make you feel bad about yourself, try to make you compromise for things you don't enjoy or always put you on the short end of the stick - put YOU first! You'll find then you can express your individuality a lot easier and move towards what you really enjoy.

Moon in 2nd : When you are investing your time and energy into something you care about it feels very satisfying to you. You enjoy making money and spending it on things that make you happy but for the long-term! (Maybe buying things to further a skill, home decoration maybe!). You are not someone who looks much into the short-term aspects of something - you want something stable you can rely on, trust and really enjoy in your life. Make sure to let go of those who try to sabotage the work you have done if you have a fixed vision of something or if you have strong morals. These kinds of people are not those that will stay in your life and will not invest useful energy into you - so don't spend it on them! Once you're doing that, you will be able to invest a lot more into yourself and your projects!

Moon in 3rd : Communication, growing your intelligence and critical thinking skills are very important to you! You may have a lot of interests/hobbies and enjoy researching/understanding those that give you satisfaction. You are a very curious person, always ready to learn more and grow intellectually. Speaking to people, journaling or engaging in learning about your interests may be a way to help you deal with negative emotions. Let go of people/situations that don't serve your interests and curious nature... and ESPECIALLY let go of people that treat your interests with negativity - you need to be able to learn/communicate and feel comfortable doing so! Once this has been done, you will feel a lot more comfortable with yourself, able to express your interests to a wider range of people.

Moon in 4th : Pay attention to how you feel around your family (or people that feel like family to you) as with this placement it may be pretty easy to get taken advantage of. It's very important you feel nurtured emotionally and secure in whatever setting you're in - you need to feel safe in order for you to grow. You're someone deeply compassionate, maybe with an intense nostalgic quality and get attached to things easily (or you went through a phase like that). When you start to feel unsafe, insecure in your surroundings, like you are being neglected this is how you know you are on the wrong path - maybe this even feels comfortable to you when it shouldn't! Your biggest lesson is to learn to let go, move towards what makes you feel safe and secure - like you can really be yourself and grow into who you want to be.

Moon in 5th : You are someone naturally very expressive and passionate, someone who shares their joy with others and makes others feel good about themselves! Your passions and creative expression are very important to you - they are something you love to share with the world and engage your time in! People or situations that limit this expression, make you feel depressed or make you part of a structure which makes you feel unsafe or unsatisfied should be avoided. You are someone who naturally already wants to commit to your passions and share their desires, learn about them and try new things - a routine may make you feel bored or stagnant. Once you've started avoiding those situations, you'll attract more people around you who want to see what you've been creating/performing!

Moon in 6th : You take care of your health and surroundings very well, maybe also have quite a strong work ethic (or you enjoy staying busy). You are someone who feels satisfied when developing your skills or when you feel capable in doing something, whether that be for people or yourself. If you start to feel like you are being taken advantage of, are confused with what someone wants exactly (maybe through manipulation) or when you start to doubt yourself, it can cause some serious sense of insecurity within you. Avoid vague situations and communicate as directly as possible - don't let people take advantage or be emotionally manipulative towards you to gain something. This will allow you to feel more confident in yourself, meaning you are able to set better boundaries so you can continue developing yourself and your skills to provide for those around you! You are capable, be careful not to burn yourself out!

Moon in 7th : You feel the most satisfied when you are around those you love and feel close to. You may have a reputation for being very kind or emotionally involved in your relationships, often giving as much as possible to your partner without much of a second thought - it makes you happy! Sometimes though, the people you meet may be pretty self serving and only really care about themselves and don't pay any attention to your feelings. This can make you feel alone, dissatisfied, neglected and is something you should avoid at all costs. You deserve to be loved and cared for just as much as anyone else - your needs matter too! Once you've started avoiding situations such as this - where you're giving and giving and not receiving (like a one-sided relationship, pay attention to rewards you receive too) and not getting any respect, you'll notice you start to become more assertive in yourself, able to stand up for what you want and deserve!

Moon in 8th : When you trust someone, you trust HARD or you find you can become pretty selfless to people who you are close to. This is someone very loyal, protective and would do anything to make sure their loved ones are okay! Vulnerability isn't easy depending on the sign, but when you become emotionally attached to someone - you get ATTACHED! However, be careful and avoid those who seek to use you for their gain whatever that may be (or they want you to give more than you can give). This can make you feel used, manipulated, unwanted - maybe even scared and you start to develop trust issues. You deserve someone who cares about your emotions and would be as loyal as you are to them, someone who can relate to you, someone you can really trust. Once you start avoiding those who make you feel used, you'll notice your mood drastically shifting and you start to become more open to new experiences, open to trusting.

Moon in 9th : You may be someone who really enjoys travelling, trying new foods, maybe some kind of introspection or academics - anything to quench your curiosity and excitement! You need to be able to explore all the different aspects of life and follow what you know will make you happiest - whether its a moral or an ambition, it gives you a deep sense of purpose most likely which is very satisfying for you. A major stressor may be those who seem not to care about what YOU want to do or are closed-minded to your opinions, let go of them! They don't serve you. You deserve to live the life you want to live without others telling you what to do and how to do it. You'll notice when you start to let these situations go, you become more open and committed goals you actually want to pursue even if it means you won't stick with it forever!

Moon in 10th : Ambitious is the perfect word to describe you! You may be quite career-oriented, or someone that directs their time to their own goals a lot of the time. You enjoy staying productive, working your way up something to be the best you can be and gain a lot of satisfaction from self-improvement possibly. Situations/people which make you feel stagnant, stuck in your comfort zone, like you can't actually progress in life should definitely be avoided. You're allowed to work on your own ambitions, don't let people sabotage them (especially family). You really want to be able to commit and dedicate yourself to something you genuinely want to do - so once you've started avoiding unhealthy situations which make you feel stuck and unworthy, you'll notice you feel a lot more motivated. Maybe your goals will become even clearer to you! Don't lose sight of what's important to you.

Moon in 11th : Your friend groups and ideologies are very very important to you and bring you a lot of happiness. Spending time with people that make you feel good, like you can relate to them and appreciate you for who you are is very satisfying - maybe you are in a few different friend groups and just enjoy meeting new people! However, it may be pretty easy to get caught up in situations or with people that make you feel inferior, excluded - or maybe this is something you are sensitive to. Avoid those who spend too much time talking about themselves - you're just as interesting and important as them! You have valid things to say! Once you stop worrying what those think of you and your opinions out of fear of being excluded or inferior or weird, you'll notice you start to build a friendship group that is just right for you. It will help you grow and feel nurtured, like you can express yourself properly.

Moon in 12th : You feel the most satisfied and nurtured when you are at peace, it's possible you do a lot of inner work or enjoy spending time on your own - sitting with your thoughts and feelings. Maybe you are even quite artistic, anything which allows you to feel more stable and settled, like you can grow in the way you want to. When people want to set very strict schedules on you, force you to a work ethic you don't want to be a part of it can be very stressful for you and is something you should let go of. Your emotional life deserves to be treated with respect - you deserve to feel at peace. Once you start to let go of these situations, you will notice you start to feel less anxious and more authentic to who you are - follow what gives you the deepest sense of peace and satisfaction.

~

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Contact me if you're interested and want to know more (or if you have any concerns)!

Take Care!

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii! Hope you’re having a great day :D

I was thinking about Law with a tall male reader who looks very intimidating. everyone thinks that he is the top in the relationship but Law is the one who actually tops/? Like his s/o looks like a top but is actually a pillow princess. ;)

You can take this as a request or not if you want :3

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Tall male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend everyone, still getting dragged over the studying coals, but fuck it we ball.

No outright smut in this one, mainly just focusing on their relationship since im exhausted, but I hope its still enjoyable.

In the One Piece universe, being tall can mean a lot of things. Being taller than Law just means you have to be somewhere over 6 ft 5, or taller, if that’s what you prefer. Being intimidating isn’t too hard either, especially if you are a fellow pirate.

Seeing you two together can be a little off-putting to the people around you, at least the ones that aren’t part of your crew, who know you two on a more personal level.

No one would dare to make assumptions in the beginning of a meeting, since Law already has quite the reputation, and either your scary aura or your own dangerous reputation makes people shut up. They might have ideas to themselves, but they wouldn’t verbalize it.

It probably comes up during an afterparty of some kind, after you guys have defeated the baddie of the week and you’re all kicking back. Since Law isn’t a big fan of drinking, you would end up being the one getting tipsy out of the two of you.

At some point during the night, Kidd or others who are more comfortable with you two, would start making jabs or ask questions, as one does when you get wasted. It becomes clear pretty damn quick though, that everyone thinks that Law is the one who bottoms.

Law isn’t the type to out your guy’s bedroom life, but I could still imagine him asking, in a bit of a tense tone, why they think that. That’s when you guys get the explanation from your allies and friends. But it all boils down to you being taller, bigger, scarier and with a stronger presence. So, it just made sense to them.

It gets a bit of a laugh from you, and you can tell from the tension in Laws jaw that it gets on his nerves, maybe even hurting his ego a little. But you also know your lover wouldn’t verbalize those thoughts, not wanting to admit something like an assumption of his bedroom role would hit him in any way.

When you guys get back to the polar tang, one would assume Law would drag you off to the bedroom to show you and him that your friends and allies’ assumptions were wrong. But Law is also a doctor, so he wouldn’t want to do such a thing when you’re drunk.

Instead, he gets some water in you, gets you something to eat, helps you get washed down if that’s what you need, and then the two of you conk out in bed, Law the big spoon even if you are taller. Hes like your tattooed backpack, if the height difference is big enough.

Law doesn’t end up making a move on you in the morning either if you suffer from hangovers, instead your lover would make sure you were alright, and get you something for the hangover if its bad enough. His ego may have been wounded a little, but he’s a respectful guy, especially to you as his lover.

That evening, or the day after though, you’re all his, not that you mind though. Seeing as all your crewmates are most likely still out partying or suffering from hangovers, you two have the polar tang all to yourself.

As you enjoy laying back and receiving pleasure without doing much in return, Law gets to do most of the work. He doesn’t need the same in return, as giving you pleasure is satisfying for him. Being in charge would feel quite nice for him, as it allows him to have an eye on the entire situation and what’s going on.

Law would definitely also use his devil fruit power when you guys are together, since it would make it easier for the both of you, and with his devil fruit he’s able to reach parts of you no one else can.

In the end, people you meet, and probably most of your friends and allies, think you are the top still, but Law wouldn’t mind too much after you show him that you don’t think lesser of him or let other people’s assumptions bother you or your relationship.

[kirammanswifey]

《Bound by Darkness》

Silco

writer's note: i had so many emotions while writing this, it felt too personal. idon't support this kind of relationship in any way and i don't think is right at all, but i must accept that is a dynamic that it has too much to explore, and with silco's personality... it's just makes sense, whatever i hope u guys like it ittt. this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's ekko's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, toe fetish, humiliation, voyeur and exhibitionist tendencies, toxic relationship, manipulation, silco's kinda a sugar daddy.

You walk slowly between the shadows and artificial lights of the gallery, feeling out of place amid the pretentious laughter and admiring murmurs of the guests. Your heels echo on the marble floor, a rhythm that seems more sincere than any conversation around you. You didn’t come here for the love of art; you came because someone invited you, promising "opportunities." But all you've found are overly sweet champagne glasses and abstract paintings that seem like an elaborate joke.

You stop in front of one particularly absurd piece: a huge red stain on a white canvas, accompanied by a plaque that describes it as "the existential suffering of modernity." You sigh, letting out a murmur you didn’t intend to share:

"Existential suffering? Looks more like someone spilled their expensive wine."

"A sharp observation," replies a deep, calculated voice from behind you. It’s so unexpected that you turn immediately, finding yourself face to face with a tall man dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His perfectly styled hair, piercing green eyes, and a scar crossing his face like a badge of a battle won. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something in his expression that seems... satisfied.

"And who are you? The unofficial art critic of the night?" you ask, crossing your arms as you look him over.

"Something like that," he responds, his voice low, almost intimate. "Though I must admit, I rarely find such accurate comments among these... crowds."

"Oh, really? Well, I wasn’t expecting to meet someone not dazzled by the 'existential suffering' of a stain."

He steps a little closer, barely invading your personal space. His presence is almost suffocating, as if he fills the room with an authority that doesn’t need to be proclaimed. "True art doesn’t need explanation," he says, looking at the painting with disdain. "Only the insecure try to justify it with words."

You laugh, a light chuckle that’s not entirely genuine. "Well, I guess we found something in common. Though I’m not sure that’s a good sign."

"That depends," he replies, his eyes fixed on you as though he’s already made an important decision. "What brought you here? You don’t seem like the type who frequents places like this."

"And you do, I suppose," you retort with a mocking smile. "Let me guess: you're a misunderstood art lover here to find inspiration."

For the first time, a smile, or something resembling it, crosses his face. "Close, but not quite. I’m here for business."

"How convenient. I’m here because someone promised me 'an enriching experience.' So far, all I’ve found are empty glasses and boring conversations."

His eyes gleam with something you can’t quite identify: curiosity, interest, maybe even amusement. "Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places."

"And you? Have you found what you were looking for?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he observes you in silence, as though weighing every word he could say. Finally, he replies, "Maybe."

The rest of the night passes in conversations that aren’t superficial but aren’t completely sincere either. You talk about ambition, about how power can be as addictive as it is dangerous. He listens with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, as if every word you say is a thread he’s willing to pull to unravel who you really are.

Eventually, you find yourself with a glass of wine in hand, in a quieter corner of the gallery. He’s beside you, his proximity intimidating, but not unpleasant. "What do you really do? Because you don’t seem like just another businessman," you finally ask.

"And you? What do you really do? Because you don’t seem like just a college student."

His answer leaves you speechless for a moment, but you don’t let him notice. "Touché. Though I must admit, my motives are much... simpler than yours. I need to pay for my university before everything goes to hell."

"Money?" he asks, with a curiosity that seems genuine. "Is that what you're after?"

"No, of course not," you reply with sarcasm. "I’m here for the art, like everyone else."

He lets out a low laugh, barely a sound, but enough to send a chill down your spine. "Maybe we can help each other," he says, his voice almost a whisper.

"Oh yeah? And what do you propose?" you ask, pretending to be uninterested, though the intensity of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure.

"Simple. I cover your expenses... and you share your time with me."

The proposal is so direct that it leaves you breathless for a moment. You look into his eyes, searching for any sign of a joke, but all you find is seriousness. It’s a deal, a non-verbal contract loaded with implications that you both understand perfectly.

You thought about it for a few minutes. You hadn’t gone there on purpose, you had just gone as a novice artist looking for new opportunities. You wanted to make money through your work, not by being someone’s sex slave. But he wasn’t just anyone, he was different from anyone you had ever met before. He was an older, attractive, cultured man, just your type. In a moment, the proposition didn’t sound so intimidating anymore. Money was money and right now you desperately needed it, besides, you weren’t going to lose anything, on the contrary.

Finally, you smile, leaning in slightly towards him. "I hope you’re clear that my time isn’t cheap."

"Neither is mine," he replies, his tone firm, almost threatening.

The deal is sealed with a raised glass. You both know it’s not just company you’re exchanging; it’s something deeper, darker, and you’re both willing to play.

The night is humid and heavy as you walk toward the restaurant Silco had mentioned. You’d never heard of it before, which is enough to know it belongs to a category inaccessible to most people. The tinted windows and discreet facade offer no clues about what you’ll find inside, but somehow, it seems to fit perfectly with the image of the man who invited you.

As you enter, the air conditioning caresses your skin, and the scent of aged wine and expensive spices envelopes your senses. The place is nearly empty, just a few tables occupied by figures who seem as far removed from your world as Silco himself. He’s already there, seated in a corner with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His black suit and relaxed posture radiate absolute control, as if this were his domain and you were merely a guest in his world.

“You’re punctual,” he says without standing, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that makes you feel as though he’s dissecting you piece by piece.

“Were you expecting otherwise?” you reply, letting a playful smile tug at your lips as you take a seat across from him.

“No, but it’s always refreshing to confirm someone understands the value of time.”

The waiter appears almost immediately, discreet and efficient, as if he were an extension of Silco’s calculated atmosphere. Silco doesn’t look at the menu; he simply orders a bottle of wine that likely costs more than your monthly rent, then watches you, waiting.

“Are you always this… precise about everything?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you leaf through the menu, pretending to understand the names of the dishes.

“And are you always looking for answers to questions you already know?” he counters, his words as sharp as a blade.

You hold the menu in your hands, scanning the names of the dishes in French, Italian, and Japanese. You turn it over as if that might help decipher it. In the end, you settle for what seems like a safe choice: “I’ll have the beef carpaccio as a starter and… the lobster risotto as the main course? Assuming it doesn’t blow my budget, of course.”

Silco lets out a low, almost inaudible laugh. “Tonight, you have no budget. Order whatever you want.”

“I’m not used to someone giving me carte blanche,” you murmur, handing the menu to the waiter.

“Then consider tonight an exercise in expanding your horizons.”

The wine arrives shortly after, and as the waiter pours it, you notice how Silco examines every detail: the label on the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glass, even the waiter’s movements as he steps back. You take a sip and find it surprisingly good, even to your unrefined palate.

“This is… interesting,” you comment, swirling the glass between your fingers.

“Interesting. A safe word,” he replies, leaning forward, his voice reduced to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me, is there anything you don’t approach with a layer of caution?”

“I’m not being cautious,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie.

“Of course you are,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I don’t blame you. It’s a quality many people underestimate.”

The first course arrives: beef carpaccio, thin slices of raw meat dressed with truffle oil, lemon, and a sprinkle of Parmesan. The aroma is as intoxicating as the wine.

“I have to admit, this is new to me,” you say as you pick up your fork and take a bite. The flavor is delicate but full of nuance.

“Fear of the unknown is a weakness,” Silco remarks, slicing a fine strip from his own dish, a foie gras that looks like something out of an art gallery. “Learning to master it is what separates the strong from the rest.”

“And what do you do when the unknown masters you?” you ask, holding his gaze with a hint of defiance.

“That never happens.”

The conversation drifts into broader topics as you share the main course. Your lobster risotto is creamy and perfectly seasoned, while Silco enjoys a wagyu steak paired with a black truffle purée. You talk about ambitions, the cost of success, the sacrifices power demands.

“Have you always known what you wanted?” you ask, leaning forward.

“Since I had the capacity to think for myself,” he replies dryly. “And you? Do you know?”

“More or less. I know what I don’t want, which is a good start, isn’t it?”

“It’s a start, yes,” he concedes, taking a sip of wine. “But the real question is: what are you willing to do to make sure you get it?”

“So many philosophical questions. You’re going to make me feel like I’m in a job interview,” you say, playing with the edge of your glass.

“Maybe you are,” he says, a shadow of a smile curving his lips.

Dessert arrives: a dark chocolate soufflé you share with him. The light texture and bitterness of the cocoa contrast with the sweetness of the dessert wine Silco ordered without even consulting you.

“I didn’t expect you to be the sharing type,” you comment, taking a spoonful.

“I’m not,” he replies, his tone dry. “But I can make exceptions… from time to time.”

When the waiter withdraws for the last time, Silco leans back in his seat, his eyes fixed on you with a burning intensity. “Tell me something,” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “How far are you willing to go for what you want?”

The question catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you hold his gaze, letting a slow, calculated smile spread across your lips. “As far as necessary.”

He nods, as if he expected that answer. “Good. Because the path you’ve chosen isn’t for the weak.”

“And you?” you ask, leaning closer. “How far are you willing to go?”

“I’m already there,” he replies without hesitation, his words carrying a weight you don’t need to fully understand to feel.

The tension between you has become almost unbearable, an invisible thread pulling you toward each other. You don’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly you’re closer to him, the edge of the table disappearing between you.

“This is a game, isn’t it?” you whisper, your lips barely a breath away from his.

“Everything is,” he replies before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is neither soft nor sweet; it’s a clash of wills, a battle for control that neither of you is willing to relinquish. His hand rests on your neck, firm but not aggressive, and the world around you fades, replaced by the intensity of this moment.

Hours later, you stand before a window in his penthouse, the city’s skyline stretching out like a sea of lights. He’s behind you, his presence as tangible as the cold glass beneath your fingers.

“This changes nothing,” you say, breaking the silence.

“Who said it should change anything?” he replies, his tone so calm it almost infuriates you.

You turn to face him, but his expression is unreadable, his face a mask of absolute control. “Just make sure you remember that,” you say, your words as much a challenge as a warning.

“I always do,” he responds, leaning closer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And though both of you know you’re playing a dangerous game, neither of you is willing to back down.

He circled around you, devouring you with his gaze. Silco's eyes roamed appreciatively over your curves, the red dress hugging your figure like a second skin. He stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating against your back as he pressed himself against you. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the delicate straps of your dress, toying with them.

"You look... exquisite," he murmured, voice low and smooth like velvet. He leaned in, nose brushing your ear, inhaling deeply. "Love the scent of you. It's intoxicating, just like you."

You almost moaned, but behaved yourself, you didn't wanted him to see you like an easy target. You were going play more, in the dirty meaning, of course.

His other hand rested on your hip, thumb rubbing slow circles through the thin fabric. You could already feel his hard cock against your ass, and it was so fucking magnetic. They way your body responding to his touch. It was almost magical.

Silco's lips curved into a smirk against your neck. "Tell me, my dear... are you wearing anything underneath this dress?" he purred, voice dripping with suggestion.

You smiled, mischievous. He had finally noticed. Although if we put it in a logical context, what was difficult was not to notice. You had chosen that dress especially for this night, it was your hunting dress. It accentuated your figure to perfection, leaving nothing to the imagination. So to tempt your prey you decided to put a hook, and that hook was something as simple as not wearing underwear.

"Why don't you guess?" You whispered, turning around to make eye contact with him. You would show him that you weren't easily intimidated. That he wasn't in the lead in this game of seduction.

His eyes darkened with lust and a hint of danger as they met yours. "Oh, I intend to," he replied, voice a low rumble.

In one swift, fluid motion, Silco spun you around and pinned you against the wall. His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he pressed his body flush against yours. The hard lines of his suit-clad body molded to the soft curves of your dress. Was such a sight for sore eyes.

He leaned in, nose brushing the sensitive skin of you neck, inhaling deeply like a hungry man, a hungry man for you. "No lace," he murmured, voice a low rasp. "No silk. Nothing but bare, smooth skin..." His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "And this dress, just begging to be ripped off your delectable body."

One hand released its hold on your wrist to trail slowly down your side, fingers skimming over the red fabric. Silco's touch lingered on the hem of the dress. "Shall I find out if my guess is right, darling?" he breathed, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“I don’t know.” You arched your back like a tired cat, shamelessly rubbing your ass against his boner. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” There was a challenge in your tone of voice. It was clear and forceful, like your desire for him.

Silco's eyes flashed with hunger at your defiant words. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he slid a hand up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress gradually higher.

His fingers brushed against the bare skin of your upper thigh, confirming his suspicions. "No panties," he murmured, voice a low rasp. He slid his hand higher, until his fingers grazed the apex of your thighs. "Just as I thought."

And you smiled at him like a total slut. Like you were proud of it. Like you were proud that you walked around and ate in a restaurant without underwear. Living out your fetish fantasy to the limit, and using him in the process. It was perfect in your twisted mind.

And then he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, plundering your lips with his tongue. He bit at your ower lip, tugging it between his teeth, tempted to rip it apart.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Such a naughty girl," he purred. "Teasing me like this. Walking around half-naked." His hand slid further up your thigh, fingers brushing against your bare, slick folds.

"I just wanted to surprise you. Didn't you like it?" You faked a pout, pretending to be hurt in a tender, almost childish way.

Silco chuckled darkly, amused by your bratty behavior. His thumb rubbed slow circles on your lower lip. "Oh, I like your surprise very much," he murmured. "A bit too much, perhaps."

He gripped your chin tighter, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. His eyes raked over your face, lingering on your pouty lips. "The problem is, my dear, surprises like this one have consequences."

To punctuate his point, Silco slid a finger inside your slick folds, feeling your warmth envelop him. A gasp escaped from deep within your throat. It was so unexpected that you had to hold on to his shoulders.

He pumped it slowly, teasingly, watching your reaction. "And the consequences of your surprises are always so... pleasurable."

His hand on your thigh slid up to grip your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. "I should punish you for being such a tease," he growled softly. "For walking around with this pretty little pussy bare and dripping, just begging to be filled."

Damn, why was he so good with words? And with his hands too, he had just one finger in your pussy and it was driving you crazy. The years of experience were evident.

Silco added another finger, pumping them faster, harder. You moaned loudly into his mouth and he couldn't help it. He crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your weak gasp. He licked into your mouth, tongue delving deep to taste you. His fingers never stopped their relentless pace, bringing you closer to the edge.

You pulled away, agitated, to take a breath and regain the lead. You took his face in your hand and squeezed hard, with dominance. "Lucky for me, I do enjoy some punishments," You stuck out your tongue to slowly run it along his pronounced Adam's apple until you reached his lips and outlined them delicately with a lot of saliva in between.

Silco approved your actions with a growl. Although, he removed your hand from his face and took yours in return, switching positions. His thin fingers digging into the soft of your flesh.

"Mmm, you're playing with fire, little girl," he murmured, voice a low rasp. His eyes flashed dangerously, but there was a glimmer of admiration in their depths. "You're either very brave or very foolish, taunting me like this."

You didn't give a verbal response, but you did give a physical one. It was enough to just stare at him, blankly. You didn't look away, you didn't lower your eyes for even a second. You weren't going to give in.

He licked his lips. "And I do so love a challenge."

In a flash, Silco had spun you around and walked over to the expensive plush couch, but hadn’t sat down yet. He grabbed you by the hips, creating friction between the two of you. His hands slid down your back, gripping the straps of your dress.

"I'll give you the punishment you're craving," he purred darkly. "I'll fuck you so hard, so thoroughly, that you'll forget everything you know. All you'll remember is the feeling of my cock splitting you open, claiming you."

He leaned in, breath hot against your ear. "And I won't stop until your pretty little cunt is dripping with my cum, until my essence is leaking out of you with every step you take. Until everyone knows who you belong to."

With that, Silco ripped the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He latched onto one nipple, sucking and biting the sensitive bud as his hands groped and squeezed the newly exposed flesh.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t you rather see your cum on my feet?” You managed to say between labored breaths, your leg coming up and sliding over his. “Do you think I’m blind or stupid? I’ve noticed your particular interest in my feet ever since I met you. You even noticed today that I had a pedicure done and told me that the pastel blue color I had on from the day of the gallery looked better on me. You have a thing for feet. You’re a fucking pervert. Do you want to fuck my feet? Is that what you want, old man?” You were teasing him, oh, and you were having so much fun.

Silco’s eyes darkened with lust and a hint of anger at your provocation. He took your leg and lifted it up to touch your foot, luckily for both of you, you were pretty flexible so it wasn’t a problem. “Careful, little girl,” he growled. “Keep pushing me and I might just take you up on your offer.”

He leaned in closer, nose brushing against your ankle. "I've imagined bending you over and fucking your pretty little feet. Painting your toenails white with my cum. Marking you as mine in the most degrading ways possible."

His hand slid up your calf, squeezing the firm muscle. "But I want more than that. I want to ruin you completely. Shatter you into a million pieces and put you back together as my perfect little fuck toy."

Silco's voice was a low, dangerous rasp. He nipped at your Achilles tendon. "I want to fuck your every hole until you're a drooling, cock-drunk mess. Until the only thing you understand is the feeling of my dick pounding into you."

He licked a stripe up your sole, tongue swirling around your toes. "So keep taunting me, darling. Push me. Give me a reason to absolutely destroy you." His eyes flashed with sadistic promise. "I'll make all your dirty little fantasies come true. And so many more."

"Stop barking, and do it." You said, like an insolent brat. You finished taking off your dress, now all glorious and naked you sat on the couch, facing him. You raised your legs and showed him your feet in a very suggestive way. "Look at them. They're ready for you."

A wicked grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of your naked body splayed out on his couch. You were offering to him in a golden plate, with feet and everything. His gaze lingered on your exposed pussy, already glistening with arousal.

He began to slowly removed his suit jacket. His shirt followed, buttons scattering across the floor. Your eyes roamed over his scarred, thin yet muscular chest, the sight of his physique sending a thrill through you. He was definitely a dangerous man with a even more dangerous past. And the scariest part was that you weren't even scared. Not even a little bit.

Silco knelt down in front of you, gripping your ankles. He brought your feet to his mouth, kissing along your arches reverently. "Such beautiful feet," he murmured. "So delicate. So perfect."

He licked between your toes, tongue delving between them, tickling you.

You were trying to stop yourself from laughing. It was so pathetic the way he was degrading himself for you. A powerful, billionaire man was drooling all over your feet like crazy. And all for feet. You had never understood that fetish. Feet weren’t attractive to you at all, they were just feet, and sometimes they smelled bad, and that definitely wasn’t a turn on. But in the end, who were you to judge?

Silco's tongue flicked out, licking a long stripe up your sole. He groaned at the taste of your skin, the texture of your soft feet against his tongue. He suckled on your toes, lips sealing around each one as he savored the flavor.

His hands slid up your calves, gripping your thighs possessively. "Wrap those pretty feet around my cock." he commanded roughly.

He freed his thick, hard length from the confines of his pants. The bulbous head was already leaking with arousal, a bead of precum dripping from the tip. Silco rubbed it teasingly along the arch of your foot, coating your skin with his essence.

"Warm it up for me, darling," he ordered darkly. "Get my cock nice and slick with your spit."

You didn't wait for him to tell you a second time, you got close enough and spat a considerable amount of saliva on his cock. "Come on, fuck them now. I know you crave them." You hummed, rubbing your fingers toes across his face.

With a feral growl, Silco gripped your ankles tightly and positioned the spit-slick head of his cock against the arch of your foot. He rubbed it along the soft skin, coating your foot thoroughly with your own saliva.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty little cock slut," he panted, voice heavy with arousal. "Desperate to have your feet defiled, to be used as a cheap fuck toy."

Cheap. That word hurt your pride. It was as if he was reminding you of your place and position. And indeed, he was.

With a sharp thrust of his hips, Silco forced the head of his cock past your toes, pushing into the tight, slick channel of your foot. He groaned at the exquisite sensation of your silky skin gripping his sensitive flesh.

Pumping his hips, Silco fucked your foot with slow, deliberate strokes. The wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as he used your eagerly offered appendage to pleasure himself.

"That's it, darling. Take my cock like the foot slut you are," he grunted, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "I'm going to fuck your pretty little feet until they're red and raw. Until you can't walk straight."

"You're really having fun there, old man!" You laughed openly at him, you couldn't help it. You needed to humiliate this powerful man. This man who had called you cheap.

Silco flashed a wicked grin at your teasing laughter, not slowing his frantic pace as he fucked your foot with desperate abandon. "Oh, you have no idea how much I'm enjoying this, you little minx," he growled. "I've wanted to ruin these perfect feet for so long. To claim them. To mark them as mine."

He brought your other foot to his mouth, sucking two of your toes deep inside. He licked and swirled his tongue around them, tasting her them again, before releasing them with a wet pop. "You taste divine, darling. Like sin and temptation wrapped in soft, delicate skin."

"How poetic," Your tongue was covered in sarcasm.

Silco's thrusts became more erratic, his heavy balls slapping against the heel of your foot with each desperate pump of his hips. "Keep laughing, darling. Keep taunting me. It only makes me want to use these feet even more."

He gripped your ankle tightly, pulling your foot further down his thick, pulsing shaft. The head of his cock pushed against the ball of your foot, leaking copious amounts of precum. With a final, brutal thrust, Silco buried himself balls-deep into the tight, slick channel of your foot. His cock throbbed and jerked as he found his release, thick ropes of hot cum erupting from the tip to coat your skin.

"Fuck." he roared, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy.

You looked at your cum-covered feet with an indifferent grimace.

Silco's eyes flashed dangerously as he sensed your boredom. In seconds, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly. He dragged you across the polished marble floor of his penthouse, towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.

You stumbled and bent over willingly as Silco positioned you onto the crystal of the window. Your naked body now on lewd display for any prying eyes that might look up from the streets below. The transparent windows offered no modesty, no privacy.

Panting harshly, Silco gripped himself and slapped his sensitive, spit-slick cock against your dripping slit. He was hard again. With one brutal thrust, he hilted himself inside you, burying his thick shaft to the balls in your tight, clutching heat. He groaned gutturally at the exquisite sensation.

Your eyes rolled back. Finally, some action.

"That's it, my little whore," he snarled, fingers twisting cruelly in your hair. "Take my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm going to fuck you right here, where anyone can see what a dirty little cock sleeve you are for me."

Those words echoed through your mind and blew your brain cells off.

“Fuck, you’re lucky I took my pills. You didn’t even put on a fucking condom!” You moaned, taking his cock so well, your boobs grinding against the glass, creating a wonderful friction. Unintentionally, you looked up at the night view. It was wonderful. A paradise of lights and stars. From one second to the next your mind wandered to the possibility that someone was watching them right now, the walls of your pussy contracting at the thought.

Silco smirked cruelly at your breathless words, not slowing his punishing pace as he slammed into you again and again. The windows rattled with each powerful thrust, the night air chilling your sweat-slicked skin. "Lucky indeed," he growled.

He leaned over you, breath hot against your ear as he fucked you harder, deeper. "Imagine it, darling. Someone spotting us through the windows, seeing what a brazen slut you are for my cock. They'd watch as I ruin your tight little cunt, pumping you full of my seed. Watch as it leaks out of you, marking you as my property."

The picture Silco painted for you was too exciting, you had always had that fantasy. Of being watched or watching in sex. Which combined with your exhibitionist tendencies right now was making you lose your mind. Not to mention how well Silco's cock stretched you, it was as if it had been tailor made for you.

Silco's hand released your hair to grip your hip bruisingly, pulling you back onto his pistoning cock. "Maybe it's a group of my men, watching their boss claim his whore. Or perhaps a curious passerby, getting an eyeful of your slutty body bouncing on my dick. It doesn't matter. I want you to imagine them seeing you like this. A filthy little fuck toy, existing only for my pleasure."

He licked a stripe up you neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. "Now be a good girl and scream for me, darling. Let all of the city hear who you belong to. Who makes you feel this good."

And so you screamed. You couldn't takenit anymore. You came between sobbings and incoherent words, spams all over your body. It was magnificent.

Silco felt the way your pussy clenched around his cock as your orgasm crashed over. Your scream of ecstasy echoed through his penthouse, no doubt alerting his men and any curious onlookers outside to the carnal act taking place within.

The feeling of your velvet walls gripping him like a vice only spurred him closer to his own release. He leaned over you, hips grinding against your ass as he buried himself to the hilt inside your quivering cunt. With a guttural groan, Silco found his own peak, his cock pulsing and throbbing as thick ropes of cum painted your inner walls.

He rolled his hips, grinding against you, ensuring every last drop of his essence was seated deep within your fertile womb. Panting harshly, Silco collapsed against your back, pinning you beneath him. He nipped at your shoulder, voice a low rasp. "Such a good girl, milking my cock dry. I think you've earned a reward, my dear."

He reached down, fingers sliding through the mixture of their juices leaking from your fucked-out hole. Bringing his coated fingers to your lips, Silco rubbed them against your mouth. "Clean them off," he commanded. "Taste what a perfect little cumslut you are for me."

And you obeyed. And not because you had to, it was because you wanted to. You two were cut from the same rotten wood.

Silco's eyes darkened with sadistic satisfaction as you eagerly licked his fingers clean, savoring the tangy essence of their combined releases. He could feel your tongue swirling around each digit, lapping up every last drop.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly, voice a low rumble. He kissed the back of your neck and sat down on the couch, taking out a small black box of imported Italian cigars from a table. He lit one and smoked it while looking at you intensely. Both of you naked and satisfied.

When the room finally falls silent again, filled only with the distant murmur of the city, you step away from the window, letting the night breeze brush your skin. Turning around, you notice something you hadn’t seen before: a collection of musical instruments carefully arranged in a corner of the room. A sleek black grand piano, an impeccably designed harp, and a violin that looks well-used yet lovingly cared for.

“Are you a musician?” you ask, picking up the violin with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“I was,” he replies, his tone carrying a disinterest that doesn’t match the meticulousness of his collection. “A long time ago.”

Without another word, you position the violin on your shoulder, adjusting the bow with an almost automatic precision. Closing your eyes, you let the melody take shape in your mind before playing the first notes of Tartini’s The Devil’s Trill.

The music fills the room, each note cutting through the silence with an almost painful intensity. It’s both a challenge and a declaration, a metaphor that needs no explanation. You play with a ferocity that seems to pull something from your very soul, and though your eyes remain closed, you can feel Silco’s gaze on you, as heavy as a divine judgment.

When you finish, the bow still trembling slightly in your hands, you open your eyes to find him staring at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a spark of something you’ve never seen before: awe.

“I didn’t know you could play,” he says after a long pause, his words soft but carrying the weight only he can convey.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you reply, carefully returning the violin to its place.

“That makes it all the more interesting,” he murmurs, leaning back into the couch as his eyes follow you with an intensity that seems to strip away every layer you try to keep intact.

Finally, he stands and approaches slowly. His shadow looms larger than it should in the dim room.

“Why that piece?” he asks, his tone calm but edged with something sharper.

“Don’t you know?” you reply, leaving the violin behind. “It’s a piece about ambition. About pacts and obsession.”

“Ah, yes. Giuseppe Tartini said he dreamed of the devil himself playing it. A composition born of the desire to possess the unattainable.” Silco tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with a perverse interest. “Ironic, isn’t it? Sometimes, the most ambitious dreams are the ones that destroy you.”

“I don’t think Tartini saw it that way,” you counter, crossing your arms. “He tried to recreate what he heard in that dream, but he never succeeded. He spent the rest of his life chasing a perfection that only existed in his mind.”

Silco smiles, that subtle, menacing curve of his lips that always leaves you on edge. “Exactly. Isn’t that the true nature of ambition? To chase what you can never have. It’s a curse... and a blessing.”

“And you? Have you chased something you can never have?” you ask, locking eyes with him, daring him to reveal even a sliver of vulnerability.

“I’m not interested in chasing impossibilities,” he replies, though something in his tone tells you he’s not being entirely truthful. “I prefer to negotiate. To make deals.”

“Like Tartini’s pact with the devil?” You let out a brief laugh, devoid of humor. “What happens when the price is too high?”

Silco steps closer, the distance between you reduced to a mere shadow. “There’s always a price, darling. The question is whether you’re willing to pay it.”

“And if I’m not?” you whisper, your words defiant but laced with a tension you can’t deny.

“Then someone else will pay it for you.” His voice is low, barely audible, but the implied threat wraps around the room like a shroud.

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with unspoken meaning. It feels as though the music you just played still echoes somewhere in the dark corners of the room, a reminder that this, this entire relationship, is a dangerous game.

“Do you know why I chose that piece?” you finally say, breaking the silence as you approach the violin again, your fingers trailing over its strings before pulling away. “Because it’s a metaphor.”

“For what, exactly?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows.

“For you,” you reply with an enigmatic smile, though your eyes are serious. “For us.”

“A pact with the devil?” His tone is mocking, but there’s something else beneath it, something you can’t quite place.

“A pact we both know we’ll lose,” you clarify. “But we keep playing the melody, over and over.”

Silco chuckles, that low, guttural sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “An interesting comparison. Though, I must say, I’m more curious to see how long the game lasts before one of us breaks the rules.”

“And when that happens,” you murmur, locking eyes with him, “who will pay the price?”

Silco doesn’t answer. Instead, he cups your chin, tilting your face toward him. “Perhaps both of us. Or perhaps neither.”

What happens next isn’t something you’d planned, but neither do you stop it. His mouth finds yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, a mix of possession and defiance that leaves you reeling.

Later, as you stand by the window with the city as a silent witness and the breeze caressing your skin, you realize this is everything he’d promised and more. It’s raw, it’s powerful, it’s inevitable.

And later still, as he sits on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand, you pick up the violin again. Your fingers glide over the strings with a familiarity that feels ancient, as though this moment was always destined to happen.

As the first notes of The Devil’s Trill fill the air once more, Silco closes his eyes, but you can see the faintest hint of a smile. You don’t need words to understand what he’s thinking: that you are as dangerous as the melody you’re playing. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The sound of the violin still seems to linger in the air of the room when you wake the next morning. The first rays of light filter through the vast windows of the penthouse, reflecting off the polished, minimalist surfaces around you. The city below pulses with frenetic energy, but here, at the summit of this luxurious haven, all is still. Silco is not in the bed, but that doesn’t surprise you.

You rise, wrapped in the soft fabric of a shirt that isn’t yours, and find a note on the bedside table. His handwriting is precise, almost artistic, and the words are brief, as always.

“Breakfast on the terrace. We have matters to discuss.”

Your heart beats a little faster, though you’re not sure if it’s from anticipation or the growing sense that you’re playing a game whose ending you can’t predict.

When you reach the terrace, you find him seated in one of the sleek chairs, a cup of black coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He is impeccably dressed, as if there isn’t a single moment in the day when he doesn’t have complete control over his appearance. The view of the city from here is dizzying, a constant reminder of the power he wields over the world he inhabits.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks without lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

“As well as someone who struck a deal with the devil last night,” you reply with a wry smile, taking a seat across from him.

Silco sets the newspaper aside, his eyes meeting yours with that intensity that always seems to disarm you.

“I hope you don’t regret it. Though, if you did, it would only make things more interesting.”

“I’m not one for regrets,” you say, lifting your chin. “What about you?”

“Only when the results fail to meet my expectations,” he answers, and you know it’s a warning disguised as a compliment.

Breakfast is a display of luxury: freshly baked croissants, exotic fruits you can barely identify, and a selection of cheeses and cured meats that seem straight out of a culinary catalog. He drinks coffee; you opt for a fresh juice that tastes as expensive as it looks.

“What’s the matter you wanted to discuss?” you ask, breaking the silence after a while.

Silco leans back in his chair, turning the coffee cup in his fingers.

“I’ve been considering the next phase of our… collaboration.”

“Collaboration? How professional that sounds,” you reply, arching an eyebrow.

“Everything in my life is professional,” he says with a half-smile. “Even the personal.”

“And what does this next phase entail?” you ask, trying not to show too much interest, though curiosity eats at you.

“There’s a gala next week, hosted by some strategic partners,” he explains. “I want you to come with me.”

“As your date?” you ask, knowing perfectly well what his answer will be but enjoying the game.

“More than that,” he responds, leaning toward you. “I want you to be my calling card.”

“And what’s in it for me?” you ask, resting your chin on your hand and looking at him with playful defiance.

“More than what you already have,” he says with a dangerous smile. “Your student loans, for example, could vanish with a single stroke of my pen.”

“That does sound tempting,” you admit, leaning closer to him. “But you know I never give anything without expecting something in return.”

“Of course,” he says, his tone cold as steel. “I wouldn’t be interested otherwise.”

The exchange feels like a chess match—every word carefully calculated, every gesture loaded with meaning. But beneath it all, you can sense something more: a tension, an attraction neither of you seems willing to ignore.

After breakfast, he invites you to explore more of his penthouse. Instead of heading straight to the bedroom, he leads you to a room you’d overlooked before. The door is thick and unassuming, but what lies beyond feels like a private museum.

“This is my personal collection,” he says, opening the door with a theatrical gesture.

You’re met with glass cases holding all manner of exotic objects: ceremonial daggers, tribal masks, ancient jewelry, and archaeological artifacts that look centuries old.

“Every one of these objects has a story,” he says, walking slowly among the cases. “And every story has a price.”

You stop in front of a mask carved from dark wood, adorned with gold and precious stones.

“Where’s this one from?” you ask.

“West Africa,” he answers. “It belonged to a shaman who, according to legend, could speak to the dead. He was executed by his own people when the voices began demanding sacrifices that were too great.”

“Macabre,” you say, but you can’t tear your gaze away from the mask.

“Power always is,” he says with a smile.

He shows you a ceremonial dagger, one of his most prized pieces.

“This dagger was used in a ritual that ended with the fall of an empire,” he says, turning it so you can see how the metal catches the light.

“How do you get these things?” you ask, admiring the detail of the hilt.

“Money,” he answers simply. “And the willingness to cross lines others wouldn’t dare.”

The next stop is his library, an impressive space filled with shelves that reach the ceiling, packed with books whose spines are worn and titles written in languages you don’t recognize.

“Some of these books are centuries old,” he says, running his fingers over the spines as if they were old friends. “Philosophy, history, the occult… everything you need to understand the world and manipulate it.”

“Manipulate it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Knowledge is power,” he says, looking at you with that intensity that always seems to disarm you. “And power is the only currency that truly matters.”

Finally, he takes you to the bedroom. But instead of diving straight into intimacy, the evening takes an unexpected turn when he leads you to the massive bathtub occupying the most privileged corner of the penthouse.

The water is filled with bubbles, the temperature perfect. Both of you are naked, enjoying the feel of the hot water against your skin as the city lights twinkle through the floor-to-ceiling windows. On a floating tray rests a bowl of perfect grapes and a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve ever tasted.

“Do you always live like this?” you ask, taking a grape and bringing it to your lips.

“Not always,” he replies, holding his champagne glass with an air of nonchalance. “But I make an effort to enjoy the pleasures the world has to offer.”

“Makes sense,” you say, leaning back to gaze at the night sky through the glass. “Though I wonder if you actually enjoy anything, or if all this is just a distraction.”

He smiles, a smile full of secrets.

“You’re perceptive. Perhaps too much.”

The conversation moves between banter, innuendos, and dangerous truths as the glasses empty and the grapes disappear. The atmosphere is charged but also unusually calm, as if you’re both in a momentary truce in your endless game of power.

For a brief moment, the world seems to stand still, and though you both know this is just another stage in a larger game, neither of you is willing to break the spell.

Night falls over the city like a dark veil, illuminated only by the flickering lights of the skyscrapers and the distant, pale moon. Silco’s penthouse is a refuge of luxury, distinction, and coldness, but tonight, something else flickers in his eyes. The invitation to the opera is his way of showcasing what he possesses, of showing the world what belongs to him. And you, though you don’t entirely understand it yet, know that being part of this spectacle is more than just a simple evening out.

You stand before the full-length mirror in the room, dressing carefully, aware of what awaits you. The dress is black, hugging your figure, with lace details that caress your skin with a touch of restrained sensuality. The fabric flows to the floor, offering only the slightest glimpse of your heels. The delicate neckline strikes the perfect balance between provocative and elegant, while the long, sheer sleeves add a hint of mystery, as if something lies hidden beneath. Your hair cascades in loose waves over your shoulders, dark and gleaming under the dim light.

Your makeup highlights your features: eyes deeply lined, lips a crimson shade that contrasts with your pale skin. You look like a masterpiece, a muse that Silco has no fear of displaying as his own. And though part of that unsettles you, you also feel powerful, irresistible. The image you project is not just that of an attractive woman but of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing, someone who plays with shadows as much as with light.

When you step into the living room, Silco is waiting for you, standing by a window that offers an impressive view of the city. His gaze lands on you immediately, like a predator spotting its prey. He says nothing, just watches you, as if conducting a meticulous examination, a silent evaluation. For a moment, the air seems to still. It’s a mix of admiration and something darker, indefinable, but undeniably present.

"Stunning," he murmurs, barely audible, before offering his arm for you to take.

The limo that picks you up is luxurious, its interior upholstered in black leather with gold accents that shimmer under the soft lighting. Silco remains silent, but there’s something different about his demeanor. His body is tense, as if anticipating something—or someone—to breach his domain. The ride to the opera feels long, though words are unnecessary. The tension between you rises, like the air is charged with electricity.

When you arrive, the building is an architectural jewel, imposing, made of marble and glass. The lobby is grand, with towering columns reaching for the ceiling, adorned with frescoes and floating chandeliers. The opera, the season’s most anticipated event, is in full swing, and you’re the center of attention—but not in the way you expected. As you make your way to the private box, the eyes of the men can’t help but follow you. Discreetly, but you notice—the glimmer of interest in their gazes, the latent desire to approach you, to speak to you.

Silco notices too.

"Interesting, isn’t it?" he says in a low voice, barely audible amid the orchestra’s first notes. "How some men feel so comfortable admiring what doesn’t belong to them."

He turns you to face him, his face impassive but his expression betraying restrained jealousy. The way his eyes trace over you, how his hand rests lightly on your back like an invisible brand, reminds you of the true meaning of this invitation. It’s a reminder: you’re here with him. But also a warning of what might happen should anyone cross the boundaries he has silently set.

"Isn’t it beautiful?" you ask, your voice tinged with genuine fascination as you gaze at the stage. The soprano, bathed in golden light, sings an aria with such intensity that the air seems to vibrate. But your words aren’t just for him; they’re for yourself, for the magnificence of this place that makes you feel both small and immense at once.

"It’s a spectacle," Silco replies coldly, "but nothing compared to the beauty you’ve brought to this room."

You turn to him, offering a slight smile, playing with the idea of provoking a reaction. But Silco isn’t someone easily manipulated. And as the performance continues, you realize what bothers him most isn’t the opera or the perfection of the event. It’s the fact that others dare to look at you, even indirectly, in ways only he believes he has the right to.

Suddenly, as if the opera’s atmosphere weren’t stifling enough, you decide to break the ice and venture into less superficial territory, something more intellectual.

"It’s curious how opera can be so... disturbing," you begin, casting a critical look toward the soprano who seems to sing not just with her voice but with every fiber of her being, projecting an emotion so intense it hurts. "The passion conveyed in every note—it’s not just technique. It’s raw. Visceral."

Silco studies you for a moment, intrigued by your ability to see beyond the surface. "Visceral?" he repeats, a faint smile playing on his lips. "What we’re witnessing is the distortion of human emotion taken to its limit. Artists like her don’t sing for us. They do it for themselves. To confront their own suffering and turn it into something consumable."

"Perhaps," you reply, analyzing the glint in his eyes, "but I can’t help thinking all that suffering has a darker purpose. Sometimes, the rawest emotions are the most genuine. But do we really seek to understand them, or just consume them?"

Your serene yet thoughtful tone immediately captures his attention. Silco leans back slightly in his seat, his eyes fixed on you as the orchestra carries on, though his mind seems ensnared by your words.

"It’s a reflection of human fragility," he finally says, as if speaking more to himself than to you. "Pain, despair. People pay to witness that vulnerability because we’ve distanced ourselves so much from the genuine that we find solace only in reminders of our worst selves."

Your gaze softens, acknowledging the depth of his words without letting them disarm you. You know what Silco is insinuating: his fascination with human darkness, with imperfection.

"And don’t you think all of that is present in us? In what we do, in what we seek..." you say with a faint, ironic smile. "Or do you believe we can escape our own need for destruction?"

Silco stiffens slightly, the atmosphere between you growing even more charged, almost oppressive. "There is no escape," he responds, his tone grave and piercing. "Only acceptance."

"And I accept what I am," you say, holding his gaze, a challenge in your eyes.

A tense pause stretches between you as the soprano’s voice continues to hang in the air. Silco watches you intensely, a mix of respect and dangerous possession in his gaze. "Perhaps you’re right," he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper, as he fixes you with a look that burns more than it illuminates. "Perhaps you accept more than you’re willing to admit."

The opera comes to an end, and while the crowd bursts into fervent applause, for the two of you, everything else fades away. In this space between shadows, the words you’ve shared become a tension even more palpable, a line that cannot be crossed without consequences. The opera’s beauty, with its raw passion, becomes a reflection of what binds you together—and, at the same time, what sets you apart.

Outside, under the starlit sky, the air is fresh and clean. Silco escorts you back to the car, and during the ride home, the silence is heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts.

When you reach the penthouse, the tension that’s been building all night finally erupts. The door closes behind you, and immediately, without words, he turns you toward him, taking your face in his hands, his grip firm. But the look in his eyes is something entirely different. It’s possessive, urgent, as if he’s claiming something he always knew was his, though you’ve never fully given it to him.

"I don’t like when they look at you," he whispers, his lips close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I don’t like when you seek their attention."

It’s a dangerous game, and in that moment, you know you’re trapped. There’s no escape, no alternative. The passion between you morphs into something darker, more controlled, and at the same time, more intense. As if everything he does, everything he gives, is part of a way to mark you, to ensure there’s no doubt in your mind about what you truly are to him.

Before you can react, his lips claim yours in a deep, possessive kiss, and the world outside that room fades away. All that matters now is what’s in front of you. Silco. And the power he holds over you.

The sea stretches out before you like an endless canvas, as vast and deep as the emotions Silco stirs within you. The ocean breeze caresses your skin, carrying away the heavy thoughts you’ve been burdened with over the past week. In this space, everything seems clearer. Yet, despite the stunning scenery, an undercurrent of tension lingers in the air, impossible to ignore.

Your birthday has arrived, and Silco has planned something special, something you never expected. This time, there’s no shadowy gala or opulent halls. Instead, you find yourself in a secluded paradise—a hidden corner of the sea where the elite rarely tread. You’re aboard a private yacht gliding over turquoise waters, far from the city you’ve always known, but close to what is inevitable: Silco.

You’ve dressed more simply than usual, in a flowing white dress that drapes softly over your figure, and a straw hat that partially shields your face, giving you an air of mystery, almost ethereal. The sun beats down mercilessly over the ocean, but the warmth of the daylight is tempered by the cool breeze sweeping over the water. Yet, despite the relaxing atmosphere, the silence between you and Silco carries a weight that’s impossible to ignore.

The yacht is a spectacle of luxury: polished wooden decks, a lounge with glass windows offering panoramic views of the ocean, and a bar that looks like something out of a high-society film. It’s elegant, comfortable, and perfectly isolated—a microcosm where the outside world ceases to exist. And yet, you know you’re not here just to enjoy paradise. Silco watches you, seated in a chair by the railing, his gaze steady, analytical, calculating. Somehow, you know this trip isn’t solely a gift for you.

“This place is perfect, isn’t it?” he says in a calm voice, almost a whisper, as he takes a sip from the wine glass in his hand. “A place where you can think without distractions.”

You look at him, unsure if he’s actually asking you or simply sharing his thoughts. The sunlight casts a special glow over his face, highlighting his sharp features and the piercing gaze that tracks your every movement. The yacht glides further into the water, each passing mile pulling you further away from everything you know.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally reply, but the air remains thick with unspoken tension. “Why here? Why today?”

Silco observes you with a small smile, something he rarely shows. It’s not a smile of contentment but of control, of possession. As if this place, this moment, everything, was orchestrated for you but also for him. And that unsettles you in a strange way.

“It’s your birthday,” he replies, his tone soft but firm. “And while I don’t care for pompous celebrations, I wanted you to have something special. A place where neither of us has to worry about anything but being here.”

You search his eyes for some clue, something to tell you that this is genuine. But you find nothing. Silco has no intention of making things easy for you, and you know it well. Despite the idyllic setting, there’s a palpable distance between the two of you, like an invisible field neither dares to cross.

Shortly after, lunch arrives. A feast prepared for two: fresh lobster, tuna sushi, and an endless selection of wines. The scent of the sea mingles with the aroma of the food, and the sun casts everything in a perfect golden light. But as Silco serves you, his eyes betray something more—something you’ve come to know well: a subtle control over your every action, as though each gesture is part of a scene he meticulously arranged for you.

“Do you like it?” he asks, watching your face as you take a bite. His tone is almost condescending, as though he’s assessing your reaction.

“It’s delicious,” you reply, but the taste is overshadowed by the pressure you feel being here with him. The sun shines too brightly, but his eyes are even more intense, always watchful, always calculating.

“All of this is for you, but it’s also for me,” he says, almost muttering to himself. “It’s easy to give gifts; the hard part is knowing how to thank someone for what they give you. But you’ll see—everything comes with a price.”

Your stomach churns at his words. Despite the dazzling view, the weight of what he’s just said hits harder than the heat of the sun. Silco has gifted you a perfect day, but the price of that perfection is something you can’t help but wonder about. What does he truly want from you? What else is he expecting?

After the meal, Silco approaches you, his gaze never less than piercing, scrutinizing every inch of you. There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes everything once serene feel more complicated, denser. He hands you a small package, his smile teetering on the edge of irony.

“A gift, though you may not be sure you want it,” he says with a low chuckle. “I’ve observed you, and I know what you like. You know I enjoy giving you what belongs to you.”

You open the package carefully, finding inside a diamond necklace—an intricate design that almost seems alive, as though each stone was placed with specific intent. You hold it in your hands, admiring its perfection but also feeling a growing pressure in your chest. The price of this gift isn’t just monetary—it’s emotional.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, feeling the weight of every word you say and the discomfort rising within you. The necklace is the final touch to a stage where you already feel trapped.

“Yes, it is,” Silco responds, his tone almost intimate, as though he knows what it truly means to you. “But don’t forget—everything I do has a purpose. Nothing comes without a price.”

Those words land like a blow. You know this isn’t just a necklace he’s given you but a reminder of his power over you, of what he expects from you. He isn’t merely offering you something beautiful—he’s offering an unspoken contract where you are the one who must pay.

The afternoon drifts by as the yacht continues to float aimlessly in the turquoise waters. The sun begins to set on the horizon, painting everything in shades of orange and gold. Silco never stops watching you, as though measuring you, waiting for something within you to react, for something to break. But you remain there in silence, wondering just how far you’ve fallen into his web, just how deeply you’ve allowed his influence to seep under your skin.

As night falls and the sky darkens, Silco moves closer to you, his presence firm and assured. His arm wraps around your waist with a possessiveness you cannot ignore.

“This is a birthday you’ll never forget,” he murmurs near your ear, the implicit promise in his words more terrifying than any celebration. “No matter how many gifts I give you, don’t forget—you’ll always be mine.”

The sound of the water lapping against the yacht, the whisper of the wind—all of it fades as his words echo in your mind. You cannot escape his control, not while you continue accepting his gifts. And deep down, you know you’re already too far gone.

Four months. Four long months since you entered Silco's world. Everything you knew before seems to have vanished. You live with him, in his house, in his space, isolated from your friends, from your family. Everything has changed, and although a part of you knows things weren’t healthy from the beginning, you’ve grown accustomed to this new reality. You’ve become his shadow, his silent company, an ornament accompanying him in his business and his life, without truly being part of anything.

University is the only thing you have left outside his sphere. You only leave to attend classes, as just another obligation. The campus feels like a distant world, and interactions with your classmates are limited to class meetings, while the other students dive into their own lives. You’re just there, doing what’s expected of you, like an automaton. After classes, you quickly return to the penthouse, as if it were a refuge, though deep down you know it’s more of a prison than a home.

Your friends no longer call, your family barely hears from you. And you… you’ve forgotten how to be yourself. Conversations that once felt light now seem distant, as if they were memories from another life. You’re trapped in a cycle with Silco that you don’t know how to break. Everything you do, everything you are now, revolves around him. The arguments, the fights, the manipulations—it all feels like a whirlwind, a maze with no exit.

Tonight feels different. Something in the air is heavy, a tension you can’t ignore. Silco arrives late, his face hardened by business, by stress. You watch him from the couch, the dim light of the lamp illuminating his figure. You know something is about to erupt. The question is, will you be able to endure it?

He approaches, watching you for a moment, his gaze piercing as always. "Where have you been?" he asks, his tone low, almost uncomfortable, but there’s something more there. It’s not a simple question—it’s an accusation disguised as curiosity.

You rise slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I’ve been here, waiting, as always. Doing what you asked of me," you reply, your voice already laced with the frustration you’ve been repressing.

He studies you, his expression unreadable. "Waiting… for what exactly?" The question is provocative, but also charged with a power you can’t ignore. You feel as if you’re standing on a battlefield, unsure if the war is already lost or if there’s still something left to defend.

"I don’t know what you expect from me," you say through clenched teeth, your hands balled into fists at your sides. "Everything I do, everything I am, revolves around you. I don’t know if you like that or if it disgusts you, but I’m tired of you treating me like I’m just an extension of yourself."

The response comes faster than you expect, his voice turning colder. "I’m not treating you as an extension of myself," he says, every word sharp as a blade. "I’m showing you reality. I’m the only thing keeping you here, the only thing giving you purpose."

The words hit you like a whip. They hurt more than you’d like to admit because, deep down, you know there’s some truth to them. "And what am I to you, then?" you ask, your voice breaking slightly despite yourself. "Just another tool? A piece of flesh to satisfy your needs?"

Silco smiles bitterly, a gesture he rarely shows. "Isn’t that what you are, dear? In this world, we’re all tools. The difference is that some of us hold more power than others. And you, without me, are nothing. I’ve given you everything you have; everything you are now is thanks to me."

The air grows heavier, and your hands begin to tremble, but you try to keep calm. The venom in his words wounds you, but not enough to make you crumble. "I don’t need you to remind me. But what you don’t understand, Silco, is that this isn’t what I want. This isn’t who I want to be."

He takes a step closer, his figure darkening the room. "Then what do you want? To run away from all of this? To live a life of lies, like the others? With your friends, with your illusions? That won’t give you what you really need. You know that. Everything I offer you is the truth, without embellishments."

"The truth?" you repeat, struggling to contain the rage boiling inside you. "The truth is you’re suffocating me. You’re manipulating me, dragging me further and further into your world. What you’re giving me isn’t truth—it’s your version of what the truth should be, your control. And I’m tired of being part of it."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s really possible to escape all of this. Silco pauses, his gaze no longer as intense, but his words still cut deep. "You know you can’t escape this, don’t you?" he says softly, as if he knows something you haven’t yet accepted. "You can’t live without me. You have nowhere to go."

The anger begins to bubble over, and it’s as if all the repressed energy explodes at once. "Of course I can! I can leave! I can… I can go and never come back." Your voice trembles, but the decision is clear.

Silco’s laugh echoes through the room, bitter and cold. "And what would you do out there? Where would you go? The world around you has no place for someone like you. Without me, you’re nothing. And you know it."

A heavy silence fills the air as you both stare at each other, weighing every word, every gesture. "I am nothing without you," you say finally, your voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn’t mean I can’t find myself. That doesn’t mean I have to keep being part of your game."

Silco remains silent, watching you as if he’s evaluating something in your words. His expression is hard to read, but for the first time, there’s something in his eyes you can’t identify—something that looks like doubt.

"If you leave, there’s no coming back," he says in a low voice, an implicit threat in his words. "There will be no place for you in my world, and you know it."

And in that moment, something inside you clicks. The decision is made. It no longer matters what he says. "I know," you respond firmly, your heart pounding. "I know. But I’m leaving."

You turn and begin walking towards the door. Silco does nothing, doesn’t move, doesn’t stop you. But his gaze follows you, weighing on you, one last attempt at control.

As you step through the door, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway is your only companion. The cool night air greets you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel free. At least for a moment, you can breathe.

Thirty long days have passed since you left his side. A month. Thirty days of loneliness, abandonment, and anguish. Broken promises crash against your chest like an echo, and the constant pressure of an uncertain future devours you from within. You try to survive, but each day becomes harder.

Your university life, once your salvation, is now just a chain tying you to a routine that slowly consumes you. You can’t pay your rent. The overdue payments loom like a black shadow, threatening to swallow you whole. The people who once stood by your side now turn their backs on you. Friends, so conventional, so distant, can’t understand what you’ve lost. Your family doesn’t even try. They’ve rejected you, abandoned you. And amidst all this, your studies remain a distant beacon, an unattainable dream you can barely cling to.

You tried finding a job, but you lost everything as quickly as it came. The university demands more of you, and all you have to offer is the anguish of knowing your world is collapsing while they move forward, oblivious to the darkness consuming you. The days stretch endlessly, and the nights become unbearable. Sadness courses through your veins like a dark current, but nothing, nothing hurts more than his absence. The void Silco left is an open wound that cannot heal. The luxurious life you shared with him, the brilliance of his world—you miss it. The darkness within him, that sense of belonging found only in the depths of wickedness, you miss that too. That is the price you pay for leaving.

One day, without thinking, without knowing what drives you, you decide to return. You don’t care if he rejects or humiliates you. The only thing you know is that you can’t go on without him. The city looks dull and cold from the heights, but Silco’s building draws you with a dark, almost magnetic force. Your steps are slow, heavy, each one closer to the truth you’ve been denying. When you reach the door of the penthouse, doubt strikes you, but you don’t stop. You know. You can’t escape him.

Silco is there, waiting for you, as if he knew you would return. As if he knew the absence was only temporary, that nothing could keep you apart for long. His presence fills the air, heavy and dense, as always. And yet, there is something more in his gaze—something dark and satisfied. Silco is not the kind of man who is surprised by others’ decisions because, in his world, he is always in control.

“You had nowhere else to go, did you?” he says in that deep voice that takes your breath away, his tone so full of certainty you can’t respond. “You’ve realized it, as you always do. No one understands you. No one knows what you need, what belongs to you. Only I do.”

His words pierce through you like a knife. You know he’s right—there is nowhere else you can find what he gave you. The void left by his absence is something you cannot fill. No one else understands you. No one else has seen the darkness you both plunge into and embraced it. Silco is everything you are, everything you know.

You move closer to him, wordless, eyes downcast, a silent plea. Silco smiles, his gaze softening for just a moment before growing more intense. He steps toward you, as if advancing over familiar terrain—a battlefield he already knows. He watches you intently, as if he can read every thought in your mind.

“I knew you’d come back,” he murmurs, touching your face with a dangerous softness, a touch devoid of affection but full of possession. “You know, don’t you? You can’t live without me. You never will. You’re too broken to be free, always have been. You can’t stand being away—you know it.”

You nod slowly, unable to speak, unwilling to say anything more. The only truth is that you need to return to him. You cannot escape.

“You’re mine,” he continues as his fingers slide down your neck with palpable possession. “And you know it. No one else does, not even you. But I’ll remind you always, until you die. Because everything you are, everything you have, is mine.”

Before you can process his words, he steps back, and with a disturbingly calm demeanor, he pulls a small case from his pocket. He opens it slowly, revealing a black diamond ring. The jewel gleams with a macabre luster, as if it has a life of its own. He looks at it, then offers it to you. “I gave you everything. Now, I want what’s mine completely.”

The ring, with its dark color and incalculable value, hypnotizes you. You don’t need to think—you can’t think. In that moment, you surrender. You know what it is and what it means, but the idea of being entirely his draws you in with unstoppable force. You accept without hesitation. It feels as natural as breathing.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word flowing from your lips like a sentence, and you feel the world begin to revolve around him again.

He smiles—a cold, satisfied expression—and takes your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger with unsettling precision. “I knew you would. I knew you couldn’t escape. No place is safe enough for you. You’re mine, and you’ll never leave me.”

He moves closer to you, his face mere inches from yours. “Because only we understand what we truly are. No one else has seen the darkness like we have. No one else appreciates it. We deserve this. All we have left is this bond, this darkness. Why fear it when we can embrace it together?”

Your lips brush against his, and the dark passion overtakes you like a flame consuming everything in its path. The kiss is deep, almost destructive. There is no sweetness in it, only savage voracity. In his arms, you finally feel like you belong to something, to someone. You are his. And for the first time, everything feels right.

In that moment, the world shrinks to just the two of you. Nothing else matters—neither the university, nor family, nor friends. Only him and you, immersed in a darkness only you two understand. The ring, the seal of possession, is the final bond tying you together—a reminder of the inevitable.

Silco looks at you, his eyes dark yet filled with a satisfaction you’ve never seen before. “Welcome home,” he says in his deep voice. And for some reason, in this moment, all you can do is nod, surrendering entirely to the shadow that surrounds you, to the darkness that calls you.

[o-sachi]

Superimposable - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ chemistry too hard for you? good thing you have someone to help you out... ᯓ character; hayato suo (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; college au, floof, friends to lovers (kinda), gn reader, no y/n, has chemistry jargon and concepts (basic explanations at the end if you're curious lol)

[🐟]: for day 2 - school life prompt! @windbreakerweek

"Suo, there's no use. I'm doomed. I've accepted my fate," you say as you plant your forehead on the hardwood table.

You've been in the university library for quite some time now, yet your brain won't absorb this damn chemistry lesson. Who even cares about how molecules are structured?

As pessimistic as you are, your designated tutor was still able to keep a friendly smile on his face. Sure, you were unlucky to not be born a chemistry genius, but at least, you were lucky enough to be friends with someone who is.

Suo Hayato is a close friend of yours and the person who gets the highest marks in your chemistry class. Every. Single. Time.

"You just have to use your imagination. It's highly important since you want to figure out the configuration of the molecule."

He points to a line in the book—reading it and squeezing in a short explanation in between. Despite his many attempts... it was simply impossible.

Suo quickly notices your fleeting attention and decides to close the book. He had something better up his sleeve. "Alright, you have trouble understanding configurations, right?"

You nod slowly—clearly showing the exhaustion that has been building up all this time.

He smiles softly. "Okay then. Let's start from the beginning."

He pulls his chair a bit closer to you. If you were to move just an inch—your shoulders would rub against each other. Normally, such a trivial touch would be nothing to you... but it was Suo Hayato. People would do unimaginable things to be in your position right now.

"First, you need to be able to find the chiral center of these structures. And in order to do that—you need to know the concept of superimposability."

He takes your right hand and places it flat on the table. "Look," he says while placing his bigger hand on top of yours. "They don't line up do they? They're mirror images, but they don't line up perfectly."

"So they're not superimposable?" you ask and he nods. "But what if I turn my hand?"

Suo chuckles softly, fully expecting you to ask that. He takes your hand and flips it over so that your palm was facing upwards. And like earlier, he places his palm over yours. A little more and you could intertwine your fingers with his.

You gulp down—hard. "Don't they line up now?"

"Yes, but are they mirror images?" he poses the question and he removes his hand from yours. "Your palm is facing up while the back of my hand is. So they're not the same."

Suo speaks up again. "So if the mirror images of the molecules are not superimposable, it has a chiral center."

Scratching your head, you tried to make sense of his words. It was clear and unclear at the same time. You were close to getting to that summit of understanding this thing. But there was something missing.

"Then what are superimposable things?"

Suo looks up, as if in thought. In truth, there were so many superimposable things around you—papers, rulers, cellphones. But he thought that would be too boring to make this lesson memorable.

He turns to face you better which prompts you to do the same. You had a feeling he was about to do something. Although, nothing would ever prepare you for what he was to pull next.

"Pretend you're looking into a mirror," he says while pointing at his face. "So we have mirror images now, right?"

"Right."

"What else do we need for images to be superimposable again?"

"They have to line up?"

He hums, satisfied with your answer. But what kind of teacher would he be if he doesn't properly show you, right?

To be fair, your lips did line up perfectly. He let you feel the softness of his lips on yours for a few seconds—making sure you understood what all of this meant. It was quick, but sweet. The small peck rendered you immobile and all you could do was get lost in the pleasant surprise.

Pulling away, he flashes you that same subdued smile. "Wow, they do line up huh? So would you say lips are superimposable or not?"

When he talked like this it made you feel... things. "They're super... imposable..."

His smile widens, glad that you successfully absorbed the concept. He went on with his lecture, excited to teach you more. But it seems like his methods left you stunned and unable to go on any further.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

a/n - some explanations under the cut

Let's go over the terms:

Configuration - basically how the molecule exists in a 3D space, their rotation and how its components are postioned relative from each other

Chiral Center - atoms with four different groups bonded to it and are mirror images that are non-superimposable

Idk if y'all will understand with just this explanation but yes. (ty socratic)

Superimposability - mirror images that line up

Like this basically (ty Chemistry Stack Exchange)

This is like the very miniscule tip of the organic chemistry iceberg. So reader and Suo have SO MUCH to go over lol. Anyway, orgchem is fun /srs. So was writing this hehe.

[suzuran777]

Review: Ooe -Zenpen- (Adelta)

The first part of Adelta's new BL visual novel "Ooe" was finally released on the 25th last month! The second part is scheduled to be released in winter, but the first part was already so good I highly recommend playing it. I’ve been waiting for this game for a long time and also wrote some general information/theories about the game on this blog some years ago, as well as a review of the trial version. I won't mention any big plot-related spoilers, so if you’re waiting for an English version or are just curious what the game is about, you can still check it out!

Synopsis 30th year of the Showa era (1955), our protagonist Oosaki works for a small detective agency and one day receives a strange request from a client. He's asked to attend a memorial service on behalf of his client, which will be held on the remote island of Ooejima. During his stay on the island, a series of strange events happen, and the ship that was supposed to pick them up never arrives. The organizer who invited them is not there, and shortly afterwards they also lose all contact with the outside world. Stranded on this ominous island, ten people unravel the mystery of their shared pasts and the death of the actress An Ooe.

This version of the game focuses on three different routes, Ariake, Shimbashi and Aomi. Similar to previous Adelta games, you play all of the routes in a pre-decided route order, and with each route you finish, a new choice will show up allowing you to proceed to the next route. As I mentioned in one of my previous blog posts, each character was assigned one earthly desire/mental factor that kind of describes the character, so I will also include this again below. Now I've played the game I know that these factors are definitely not their only personality trait, but some parts of it definitely show up in the story eventually.

Ariake -  Disregard (Anapatrapya 無愧): A mortician who likes helping out those in need. After injuring his dominant hand, he has been receiving a lot of help from others. He's immediately very fond of Oosaki and wants to follow him everywhere. His mental factor pretty much indicates that he doesn't consider his own actions 'bad'.

Shimbashi -  Stinginess (Mātsarya 慳): A screenwriter who speakes in a rather strange way, combining overly-polite speach and insults. When he first meets Oosaki, he doesn't seem to trust him at all and doesn't want to tell him anything. His mental factor refers to him only wanting to satisfy his own desires, and doesn't intend to share anything with others.

Aomi -  Envy (Īrṣyā 嫉): A quiet music teacher who doesn’t talk a lot, and when he does speak, it’s limited to short sentences only. He doesn't like small talk and sometimes when Oosaki asks him something Aomi simply ignores him. His mental factor doesn't need much explanation, but even though it's envy I must say that he's not the overly-jealous type (?). It kind of refers to something more specific in his route which I can't really mention without spoiling.

I don't think you really need a guide for this game as it's pretty obvious when new choices unlock, just start a new game after finishing the first route and you'll see! Ariake does have an alternative ending scene, so during your second playthrough don’t immediately pick the choice that leads to Shimbashi’s route, and return to Ariake’s route one more time. Afterwards you can proceed as usual. Sometimes a few choices pop up, but selecting the wrong choice has no consequences and you’ll just be re-directed to the choice menu. The wind chime sound effect indicates which one is the correct choice, but I kind of enjoyed seeing everyone’s nervous reactions while falsely accusing them of something, so I recommend that too since there really are no consequences. By the way, important items are easy to notice because of their red color, like the record in the record player you can see below. Same goes for any text written in red, it might become relevant later (maybe even in part 2).

Introduction to the story Oosaki lives in a boarding house in Suga, a short walk from Hiratsuka station near Kamakura. His boss Shinkiba, who runs the detective agency, informs him about a request he received from a client. The client, a man who calls himself Shizuma Daiba, asks Oosaki to attend the memorial service of actress An Ooe on his behalf. According to Daiba, it was his father who received the invitation, however he fell ill shortly afterwards. Oosaki assumes that the person who invited him is a relative of the actress. Even though Oosaki never met her, he remembers reading news about her death. which shocked him because she was quite young and died by setting herself on fire. Even though it's a rather strange request and Shinkiba warns Oosaki, he still decides to travel to Ooejima. The island belongs to the Izu Island group and is located near Hachijojima. Originally, it was used as a military base during the Second World War, however after this it became uninhabited. Even though he has never been there, Oosaki knows about the island because his grandma who raised him was originally from this island, and he always felt like he'd travel to the island some day.

On his way to the island, he meets one of the other main characters in this game, Ariake, who’s also travelling to Ooejima for the memorial service. He’s surprised to find out Ariake’s grandmother is also from the island. After arriving at the Mikazuki inn, he receives a warm welcome from a trembling man with a knife (??), who later introduces himself as Funeno. He also meets Shimbashi who's staying at the same inn. The other characters are all staying at a different inn, but Oosaki meets them pretty soon too (Takeshiba, Shijoumae, Hinode, Aomi and Shiodome). The final character, Toyosu, appears a bit later and mentions he's in charge of the memorial service because the individual who invited them all (who nobody seems to know) couldn't come after all, which leaves everyone confused.

Since this is mentioned in the promotional material and also happens in the trial version, I think it's not really a spoiler to mention that Funeno is the first character who gets killed shortly after this. They decide to perform a ritual to put his spirit to rest, which involves burning a straw figure, though when they finally burn it they discover someone swapped the straw figure with Funeno's body and they end up burning his body instead... Afterwards, Shiodome reveals that they didn't just receive invitation letters, but they also got a letter describing the crimes one of the other attendees committed. They were all swapped, so everyone has a letter that belongs to someone else and knows about their crimes. The orders is as follows: Funeno > Daiba > ??? > Shimbashi > Takeshiba > Aomi > Toyosu > Hinode > Shijoumae > Ariake > Shiodome > Funeno. I guess now we know why Funeno acted so nervous around Oosaki, as he introduced himself as ''Daiba'' and Funeno got Daiba's letter...

Oosaki didn't receive any of these letters from Daiba though, so after they all return the letters to each other, Shimbashi is the only one who doesn't get his own letter, and let's just say he's not too happy about that. This also means that characters who had each other's letters know about their crimes, which is why some of them seem to be rather uncomfortable around each other. Most of the routes branch off a little bit after the scene where the trial version ends, and then the real murder mystery story starts in which they try to figure out who killed Funeno. Someone also destroyed the phone, so now there's no way to contact anyone anymore. At this point Oosaki's of course also suspicious of his client Daiba, because it's clear he was hiding something from him and sent Oosaki to the island without telling him important information.

Personal thoughts Since it’s a murder mystery game you never know which characters to trust, and because characters do die and will be absent throughout the entire route, it was a really suspenseful experience. I was interested in the story from start to finish, which is why I finished it so fast... I can't explain the feeling of dread every time one of the characters announced that something bad had happened, and you're wondering how bad it could really be. Even though the game doesn't show any super gory CGs (the most they'll show is blood), the descriptions are very detailed, so I think even without that it's easy to understand what happened to them. I also liked how the characters who die and survive are different depending on which route you play, so the game really stays interesting in all three routes.

Even though we know a second part of the game is coming, part 1 doesn't feel incomplete at all and the routes work very well on their own! So if you can read Japanese or want to use translation tools, I highly recommend playing this. It took me over 30 hours to finish the game, including the common route which is about 5 hours long, but I do play pretty fast and am already replaying some scenes, so it might be even longer. Also according to a message that came with the game, part 2's data will be free for everyone who buys part 1, so you don't need to buy them separately. I do want the physical version of the game, but I don't mind spending a bit more because the game's only 4400 yen (unlike most VNs which are about 8000-9000 yen).

My personal favorite character is Shimbashi because of his cat-like characteristics and short temper, I guess he's a bit of a tsundere now I think about it, but I also really like the abnormal way he speaks... he's super polite and extremely rude at the same time and I am curious how this would get translated in the English version. My second favorite is probably Ariake, and because he was the first route I expected his route to be good too, since it's the first experience anyone will have with this game after all. The final route is Aomi, who I was pretty neutral about when they showed him in the promotional material, but I really liked him... I should really not underestimate any character in this game because they will prove me wrong, and so far I really like everyone. I suddenly remember when the game was announced they said all the characters are ''straight'' lol, but as expected, so far it just means they haven't been together with another man before. They do not seem to care about Oosaki's gender at all and don't make it a big deal (I also like how there's multiple lines in this game acknowledging other gender identities btw... it's mentioned out of nowhere but I love to see it). If you didn't know btw, the protag of this game is a top, all of the previous Adelta game protagonists were bottoms.

I've always liked the Adelta game artstyle and character designs, but somehow the art in this game looks even better. Every CG in Ooe just looks so beautiful and I can't stop opening the CG gallery to look at it over and over again. As for the eye color... I also have my theories because in previous games this was an important plot element, and even by just looking at the promotional material, it's clear that those with ties to Ooejima are the only characters who have red eyes, so maybe that will be mentioned in the next part? Also every character has their own ending song, similar to what they did with Uuultra C. The game actually has no opening song/movie, but they might be saving that for part 2. The ending songs are so good though at this point I will not even complain.

The references to existing literature in this game are also comparible to the older Adelta titles, for example the caves on the island kind of remind me of the novel "Kotou no Oni" and the game sometimes references Agatha Christie’s "And Then There Were None" too, with Oosaki even owning a copy of the book, and eventually comparing the people on the island to characters in the book. As I mentioned in my first blog post about this game, some of the characters' first names also reference other novel characters. For example, Shiodome’s name is Michio, which is also an important character in "Kotou no Oni", Daiba’s name is Shizuma, which seems to be referencing a character in "Inugami-ke no Ichizoku" or "The Inugami Family" (this applies to the names of his brother and father too), and Funeno’s first name is Kureichirou, which is the name of one of the main characters in "Dogra Magra". In part 1, we learn the first names of a couple of other characters too for the first time, and I do have some theories what these could be referencing, especially Takeshiba's... I also want to know more about Shiodome because I mean, from the beginning it's clear the way he behaves isn't exactly what one would consider "normal", so I wonder how he would interact with Oosaki... Cool-B did preview one of his 18+ scenes and I have many questions. Then of course there's Daiba... he's so suspicious and the promotional material keeps referring to him as a ''side character'' even though he was literally on the cover of Cool-B magazine combined with Oosaki and Ariake, so I have my doubts about that.

Honestly there's so many things I could write about but at this point I might be theorizing too much and not actually reviewing the game, but I really don't want to spoil, so I think that's it for now! Part 2 is scheduled to be released in winter, though I'm not sure if that means December, January or later. You can buy part 1 here though! Please support them. It was mentioned that they are planning to release an English and Chinese version, though any information about that will have to wait until the release of part 2. When part 2 is released I'll write a review about that too!

[nocturnalrat]

toxic fwb w prowler! miles (earth 42)?

reader wants to end the fwb agreement w miles bc she’s falling in love but he’s not cs he’s got hella other girls as well. miles gaslights reader to stop her from ending the fwb agreement js cs he doesn’t want to let her go and reader tries to leave him but he only keeps kissing her lips, cutting her off mid sentence as miles successfully gets reader back into his bed🥰🤷🏻‍♀️

anon i love you! this was so much fun to write, i hope you like it

slight dubcon warning!

In retrospect, you should have known.  

The mere fact that you guys had first met each other in a dirty club downtown, with alcohol in your blood and your self-control dwindling. You had made some small talk with him, an exchange of trivial phrases, before he had given you a look that had shattered the foundation of your very being and all your self-restraint.

That first night with him had been incomparable with anything else you had experience up until that point. Breathtaking and intoxicating and better than any drug you could have gotten on the market.  

You had exchanged numbers, and to your own surprise, he had contacted you two weeks later with a ‘wanna come over?’

Needless to say, you did.

That's how you two ended up becoming friends with certain benefits.

A friendship that you now had to end because the inevitable had happened: You had developed feelings. Who could have blamed you? Miles was aloof, attractive, desirable, mysterious.

Given the long list of his lovers, he was also someone who knew how to separate love from lust, unlike you.

You were lost in your thoughts when the door opened.

"Fucking finally," you said, trying not to sound too accusatory. You had to keep reminding yourself that you weren't in a real relationship with him, that Miles’ bustling personal life was none of your business, and that he didn't owe you an explanation as to why he was late to your date.

Having feelings for him meant one thing and one thing only: unavoidable pain.

"You wanted to talk?" His voice was monotone and indifferent as always.

There was no need to beat around the bush for too long. "We need to end this.”

Once the words left you, you felt relief wash over you. Saying it hadn’t been as difficult as you had expected.

He just raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Why?" Short on words as ever.

You jerked back as he approached you, because you couldn't have stood being physically close to him at this moment. It would have been too much. "Because I don't want to see you anymore." Because I don't want to be hurt anymore, you added internally.  

Crossing your arms, you tried to build a confident stance, but when he stopped in front of your, you slumped your shoulders.  

He was tall - taller and stronger than you were, and his dominance in combination with his charisma made you feel small and insecure in his presence.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" The corners of his mouth lifted into the hint of a grin.

"I don't care what you believe," you said with flushed cheeks. "It doesn’t matter. I've come to realize that this kind of friendship that we..." You fell silent. His hand had grabbed your chin and he had started stroking your lower lip with his thumb.

Oh, you knew that look in his eyes too well. Lust-filled and burning; he wanted you.

"Yeah? Go ahead," he said with nonchalance, but your heartbeat had doubled and every rational thought had been swept from your brain.

“A-Anyway… What I was trying to say was… I realized this kind of friendship isn't for me," you whispered with a trembling voice. He leaned down and placed his lips on the sensitive area of your neck, right where your pulse was. "Miles, what are you -" The rest of the sentence was lost in a moan as he began to suck on your skin.

"You were saying?" he mumbled.

He was so smug and self-satisfied, and the worst part was that he had every right to be.  

"I was saying that -"

You were interrupted again. He was kissing you. Fiercely, beguilingly - it was not an innocent kiss.

Your knees gave way. He caught you, grinning against your lips, and you felt his hands close around your waist.  Even if you had wanted to, you couldn't have escaped his strong embrace.

Well. So much for ending your friends with benefits arrangement.

"Miles - "

"Yes?"

But you didn’t get a chance to answer. His hands roamed over your body, taking your face in his hands. His lips were everywhere - on your cheeks, your chin, your throat, your neck.

"This is not - not a good idea," you managed to say between his kisses.

Before you knew it, he had tossed you over his shoulder and carried you onto his bed, leaning over you and looking at you with dark and lust-veiled eyes.

"And why is that?” He ran his hand over the exposed skin on your stomach where your shirt had slid up. “Why do you want to stop seeing me?”

Goosebumps came over you, and you felt your resolve vanish into thin air. You didn't want to admit that you had feelings for him; it was kind of embarrassing.

He pulled your shirt over your head and began to kiss every part of your exposed body. You half-heartedly tried to push him away from you, but to no avail.

"I asked you a question," he said, and you were so devoted to him, physically and mentally, that you would have done anything for him at that moment.

"Because I -" A gasp escaped you as his hand slipped into your pants.

"Because you…?"

You were wet enough for him to slide two fingers inside you right away. You threw your head back, and curled your fingers into his broad shoulders.

"Say it," he demanded.

God, he was so unnerving, but also all-encompassing and persuasive at the same time. All you could do was tell the truth. "Because I...” You swallowed. “Because I have feelings for you."

The haughty grin that appeared on his face told you everything you needed to know.

"But you already knew that, huh?" you asked.

Instead of answering, he leaned down again and pressed his lips against yours. It didn't take long for you to come - it never did when you were with him.

He always knew which buttons to push, which places on your body to touch to drive you to the brink of desperation and madness.

"Good girl," he said, and something inside you broke.

He was everything you wanted, and at the same time everything you would never have.

But the way he held you, the way he said your name… it almost sounded like you were something he didn't want to lose.

Hope was for fools, and you had never been one of the wise ones.

[terukotime]

allow me to be super delulu for a second

if either Eden or Ace are the actual killer, that would mean one of them would be saying their secret quotes in the next coming episodes. but...do we really feel like the situation warrants them saying what their quotes are?

Ace's is: "I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

Eden's is: "You can't go back, no matter how hard you try."

Ace's feels a little strange to say in the trial. we're very close to unearthing the real culprit, and if Ace really is the killer, when would he say that? immediately upon being found out? the quote itself has their air of melancholy and defeatism, and even at his lowest, we know Ace isn't someone to concede or go down without a fight. and if he knows he's about to die, what's the point in saying "I don't know what to do with myself anymore" when he's not even going go be alive in the next few moments? He WON'T be doing anything with himself anymore, he'll be dead.

Eden's, while not as strange of a thing to say as Ace, is also kind of peculiar. when would she say it? while she's admitting to the murder? if Eden did it, sure, it's believable that she'd feel some regret, but the setup to her being the killer feels very odd now that we've gone through this big emotional moment between her and Teruko. honestly, after all that, if Eden really is the killer, i'd be more inclined to believe she WOULDN'T regret killing Arei. it'd seem like her crying and pleading was all just emotional manipulation. it also seems strange to me that Eden would have already had it in mind to kill Arei when she and Teruko found Ace, and took the opportunity to steal the tape to carry it out. i could definitely be wrong, and please correct me if i am, but i think the attempted murder was the same day as what happened with Eden and Arturo? honestly, even if it wasn't, it just feels weird to me that Eden would find some way to disguise her handwriting, set up a murder method even more elaborate than Nico's original version, and then do the whole trial pleading and sobbing for people to believe she didn't kill her and actually have regretted her actions. that shit is so premeditated that everything Eden has done thus far feels like immense emotional manipulation. while that could still be possible...it's not really that satisfying, i'd say. who knows, maybe i'm in severe denial, but i just think this characterization of Eden would be really weird. it would feel less like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked turned out to be awful", and more like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked has made a 180° in their personality without any foreshadowing of having a darker side to them".

and i'm just still really hung up on Hu. her secret quote, "I want to pay for what I've done. But even then, I still want to live." makes total sense in the context of this trial, especially after her secret reveal. and while it's pretty unlikely she took the tape from the gym, there's no guarantee that the person who took the tape at the time HAS to be the murderer. i'm just still hung up on the fact that it feels like there needs to be one last, big twist before the true killer is revealed. a moment where Teruko comes to her realization and the culprit is selected before she makes any actual accusation against them. we already knew Eden and Ace would be the ones Teruko was going to interrogate in the selection because of her explanation. just given how drdt has been written thus far, i feel like they wouldn't hand the potential answer to us like that so easily. like we wouldn't get to the point of selecting the culprit with the story already telling us it can only be one of two suspects.

it's entirely possible that i'm just coping and am refusing to accept that one of my favorite characters is actually the culprit. or that drdt could have a trial that isn't greatly written. it's totally fine if i'm wrong and Eden or Ace really is the killer, i definitely won't enjoy it much but it's not my story, nor would it completely make me drop drdt.

i honestly just needed to rant LMAO. this episode left me with a LOT of feelings.

[lillotte17]

This might be kinda stream of consciousness but I am deep in hyperfixation mode and I yammered on for like 2 hours to unsuspecting victims friends who hadn't played the game and surprisingly made myself feed kind of better about The Varric Thing in the process, so I want to see if I can get it down coherently somewhere...

I am still disappointed that they killed him the way that they did. Let's just get that out of the way. I don't think it was a satisfying ending for his character. Not to mention Epler coming out and admitting verbatim that I was correct in my earlier assumption that they literally only chose to kill him to make people hate Solas. So, you know, trying to get me to hate my favorite character by making him kill one of my other favorite characters. Thanks. Real two for one special as a fan.

But anyway, Varric is dead. And Solas uses his visage to talk to Rook outside of his Time Out Box, which Epler says (with what seems to be a typical lack of insight) that Solas does this to 'keep Rook off balance, but the Fade had other ideas.' (paraphrasing) ...Right. Solas didn't know how the Fade would react to his mind magic. SOLAS. Didn't understand how the FADE works. Inside the LIGHTHOUSE. You know, the part of the Fade HE BUILT.

*rolls eyes so hard I can see Andraste*

I wish we got more information about the limitations of what Solas can actually do with this power, and how it actually works. There wasn't really a point in the game where it made sense to explain it to us, but... Yeah. The best I can tell, I think the Varric we see is mostly Rook's memory of him, and what they expect to see and hear from Varric. He's a wish. Of course Solas' memory of Varric is in there too, and he is also controlling the dialogue that happens. Solas was (and in some ways still is) a spirit, and he reflects what people expect to see in him, and this seems to continue even as he's masquerading as someone else. His version of Varric is almost Too Nice, tbh. He does not Bitch nearly enough. And I think that's because it's just...not what Rook wants or needs to hear. Solas is being Your Good Friend Varric, who never gets mad, and always wants to listen to you, so you will trust him and Tell Him Things.

Which, the knee-jerk reaction to this (as intended) is: That's Fucked Up!

And...yeah. It is.

But then I started thinking about what Solas COULD have been doing with this power. He actually tells us in the game that he has done this to people before. He spent 12 years fucking with a warlord's head so that he heard nothing but laughter. The first time I heard that, I was thinking like...a whisper campaign spreading embarrassing stories, but if you listen to how he phrases the explanation, he says that literally EVERY sound he heard became laughter. That is mind manipulation babeyyy! He is a Dreamer! He can murder people in their sleep and make them see anything he wants them to see in the Fade. You know, where Rook and Co. are living. He clearly has restrictions on this power from being in his Time Out Box, but his connection to Rook is WAY stronger than he acts like it is.

If you can make someone see things that aren't there, you can pretty much manipulate them into doing anything. You can terrorize them with their worst fears. You can isolate them by making it seem like their friends and love ones hate them. Heck, you can just make sounds and lights that interrupt their sleep constantly, and that alone will eventually break someone's mind.

Solas needs Rook to bust him out of jail. He also needs them to Not Die, so that they CAN bust him out of jail. He knows Rook will not take his support (or even most of his advice) as the Dread Wolf. So, he puts on a Varric mask, and becomes their friend. Which seems like it must take a lot of concentration and power on his end. He has Varric take a lot of sudden naps. But still. He is their friend, their mentor, the kind voice who always tells Rook that they are capable and the right person for the job. I wish the game had leaned into this more, actually. That Rook could REALLY lean on Varric in times of distress, and Varric would talk them down, so when you got to the end you're not just mad that you got tricked, but you are ALSO sitting with the fact that like...the only reason Rook was keeping their shit together was because SOLAS took up Varric's mantle as your guide and your emotional support.

That you had to deal with the fact that Solas is both Fen'Harel the God of Lies, AND the voice of kindness and Wisdom guiding you through your perils.

Because THAT is Good Soup. THAT is the moral grey goodness that so much of the game sanitized. Because the idea that Solas did something Fucked Up, but it's also the only reason you won, is kind of his Whole Deal. That's the WHOLE POINT. That he is Wisdom AND Pride. He's a loyal friend AND a lying liar who lies. That the healer has the bloodiest hands, and sometimes the only way to save the world is by being kind of an asshole.

And I don't really feel like there is a place for Rook to really come to that realization. Which is disappointing. And possibly intentional. Ugh.

[moonspirit]

Ok, Moon, holiday idea,

Annie comes home from shopping one day to find Armin in his office working feverishly, papers containing strange and incoherent calculations and mathematics littering the floor and his desk, Armin muttering to himself,” I don't understand it”

“What is it Armin”

“How does he do it”

“How does who do what?”

“Santa clause!!!!” Armin finally exclaims

“What” Annie asked puzzled

“Ive run the mathematics and so far as I know our current technological capabilities aren't anywhere close to what this guy has” he exclaims feverishly, “imagine if we had the abilities to drop desperately needed supplies in hours what takes weeks to deliver” he continues.

Annie starting to realize what going on “wait you think Santa clause is a-”

“Selfish bastard for hoarding technology that could save countless thousands”Armin interrupts “yes yes I do”

“Oooooo” Annie lets out a sigh, this is gonna be an awkward talk.

Omg ahahahaha xD You mean to tell me Armin believes in Santa but in the most annoying way possible xD

Well, yes, CANON!

Knowing him, he'd probably dive deeper than necessary into every single myth and legend taking them for fact, and you know the person who's really having a field day with this?

It's Pieck.

Because see, on the one hand you have Connie who ALSO believes in Santa but is satisfied with the explanation that Santa's sleigh is powered by reindeer fart. Armin, however, needs the SCIENCE behind it. How? How does Reindeer fart power the sleigh? What about its storage and transportation? Can you compress it into liquid? How much does it cost per kilometer? Can it be used to power a train, for example?

To Connie, Pieck says: "It's the stink, Connie boy, it has great propulsion power, that's how Santa flies so high."

"Woah! For real! Santa's goddamn awesome!"

To Armin, she says: "Yeah there's a chemical reaction, I don't remember it now, but try 2H2 + O2."

"... Pieck, that's water."

(Ah. She forgot, from one gaslighter to another, this isn't gonna be easy.)

"Really? I must be getting old teehehe, but oohhh I remember now, if you compress it into liquid and then light it on fire, it kind of expands into an incredible force that sends the reindeer flying through the air at the speed of light."

"... Hmm... I wonder how the math works out for that? Okay, lets see... if x is the weight of fart in liquid form..."

"... and y is the temperature of gunpowder..."

"... I see it I see it! Though... these calculations need some work, so I'm gonna go refine them tonight until I'm 100% sure they're right!"

Pieck: *nervous laughter*

Later, Annie and Pieck have a talk 😔

"... Thanks for putting up with him, but Pieck, did you have to go that far?"

"What? He's occupied for now isn't he?"

"Yeah but now he's gonna pull an all-nighter with the rubbish math you fed him."

"... I did my best."

"Hm."

"... how long before he finds out?"

"That it's bull?"

"Yeah?"

"... not long."

"Oh god. Can't you just... tell him Santa's not real?"

"That would kill him. And I can't do that."

"Ffs Annie."

"Well, 'night."

"Goodnight."

*from the hidden alcove in the stairwell, Reiner clutches at his heart, eyes wide with terror*

What do you mean, Santa's 'not real'??!!!

TLDR: All the boys are stupid 🥲 Except Jean. Only Jean.

[yourresume]

Just read the second Wild Robot book (VERY big spoilers for The Wild Robot Escapes)

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Alright I finished The Wild Robot Escapes and… what? What was that?! The ending floored me, and not in the good way. And everyone else seems to love it. Am I crazy? I’m organizing my thoughts here because I’m honestly quite upset. Spoilers ahead, naturally.

So the story reaches climax when Roz is cornered by a group of RECOs, who are hunting her after she escaped the farm she belonged to. Robots are slaves in this world, this is the status quo. She is shot, and wakes up in front of the woman who is revealed to be in charge of creating the robots, Dr. Molovo.

They have a chat about purpose, the nature of consciousness, love, personhood, etc. Roz asks if there are any robots like her, to which Molovo replied they’d all be killed by now, and Roz seemed satisfied with this answer.

Molovo is convinced and agrees to free Roz from her shackles, but not before melting down her body to prove to the humans (and to any robots watching) that the rogue robot has been killed. She then bestows upon her a brand new body, free of her serial number and model name, granting her proof of her autonomy.

Roz and Brightbill stay with Molovo for a while, and Roz decides to view Molovo as her mother, developing a familial relationship with her. When Molovo flies Roz back to her island, they have a teary goodbye, and confirm they love each other.

Now, for my thoughts. I don’t think you’re supposed to think too hard about this ending, and I don’t think the author did, but I had this sinking feeling as I finished up this novel. At first I thought it was meant to be bittersweet, like the first, but it kept bothering me. So I dug a little deeper and realized the implications that were bothering me so much.

Roz ends this story loving Molovo, in her eyes the best human she’s met on her journey. Molovo, who is the human responsible for creating her kind to be enslaved in the first place.

I’d be fine with this if either: a. Roz was just going along with Molovo so that she could escape and survive, and never really agreed with her views, or b. Molovo changed her ways upon meeting Roz and stopped with the robot enslavement. But no, Roz becomes family with her oppressor. She agrees with her viewpoint. She believes other robots are deserving of being enslaved, because she’s “special.”

Now, I don’t need Roz to change the world. She’s just one member of a marginalized group, who’s struggling to survive as it is. But to side with the human most responsible for perpetuating robot oppression in the end? It’s too much for me to bear. Not my Roz.

Not to mention that Molovo faked Roz’s death and published the video out to everyone. Her explanation is that she wants to do this to assuage the humans’ fears of a, ahem, Wild Robot on the loose. And she does do this. By sending the message to everyone, human and robot, that dissident robots will be executed. She has made Roz an accessory to the oppression of her own kind.

The argument for Roz deserving freedoms that other robots do not is that she is “special.” I.e. there is no other robot in existence that has gained or could gain the same level of sentience that she has. Not only do I disagree with this idea, I think if it was actually true, we’d have a worse story.

Roz’s entire arc in the first book was learning to be wild, to survive and thrive in the wilderness. She did this because her programming prompted her to prioritize her survival and being good to others. The idea that she was somehow more fated to develop a sense of self than the other robots not only feels disrespectful to the others, but also takes away her agency. By claiming she was born differently, in a way that made her somehow better than the other robots, you cheapen all the hard work she put into becoming a better person despite being built to serve. She is special, not because of what she was originally, but because of what she became. Or at least, I thought she was. Now I’m not so sure.

I also don’t think the text really supports this interpretation either. Roz was able to hide her identity in order to fit in as a “normal” robot, you’re telling me that nobody else out there did the same for their survival? No other robot is feigning soullessness so as to not be killed? They’re programmed to do anything they can to stay alive, just like we humans are.

I think it’s incredibly unlikely that the only robot who had the ability to self realize was the one who needed it most to survive. I think there’s more support for the idea that most robots have the capability to learn and grow, just as Roz did. Hell, mass produced computers in real life all have the same starting point, after all. It’s just that most of them were not put in the same situation where they had to change themselves in order to fit in like she had. Most, but not all, as I’m sure with this capability, some of them are just going about their work and pretending to be “normal,” just as Roz did while on the farm.

Interestingly, while the original books leave the question up in the air about Roz being truly special, the 2024 movie actually answers this question outright. The movie added Vontra. Yes, she is awful and a foil to Roz in almost every way, but you can’t argue that she lacks sentience. A “normal” robot would not need to physically dominate someone else in order to feel power over them, and they wouldn’t become so upset when their target tried to escape. Vontra treated Roz horribly, but in doing so, proved that she too had whatever mental difference that made Roz so special.

I didn’t like Vontra’s addition in the movie at first, I thought she was unnecessary and, well, she reminded me a little too much of the abusers I’ve come across in my own life. But after reading the second book, her inclusion gives me hope. By including her, the second movie can’t argue that Roz is unique in her experience, because we’re shown that is simply not the case. I really hope the ending to the second movie sees some serious differences to the second book.

In my shock after reading that ending, I absentmindedly flipped through the last few pages, all the extra content that came with the book. And then I saw reading questions, for the kids who read this book in class. I can see people arguing that “it’s not that deep” and “it’s just a kids book,” but I think the fact that it’s for children just makes the ending more disturbing to me. If I had read this as a child, I would have cried, and I just wouldn’t have the words to explain what I felt was wrong. But now, I do. This ending shows that the only members of an oppressed group that deserve rights are the ones that the oppressors deem “special.” The “good ones.” And that all the ones who don’t fit so nicely into that subjective category should be stripped of their personhood and enslaved. Not a good look.

I know flawed characters exist. But I don’t think Roz was meant to be morally gray. This ending was written in a way that felt more like we were expected to feel happy for Roz for making her way home, despite the fact that she blinded herself to the injustices faced by her kind back in human society. We don’t even get an inkling that she realizes something is wrong. The only part of it that we’re supposed to be sad about is that she could never see Molovo again. And yet, that’s the only part that didn’t upset me. Good riddance!

All in all, before I read this I was so invested in Roz. I’m autistic (yes, I know, you can tell), so I hold certain interests very dear to my heart, and The Wild Robot was one of them. Roz was my everything! To me, this ending felt like a betrayal from someone I love.

If you agree or disagree with this take I want to hear your thoughts! Hey, maybe some of you can make me feel better about all this.

TL;DR: Roz kind of ends the second book as an apologist for the slavery of her own kind, and is not challenged by the author in this notion. I am heartbroken.

[lifenconcepts]

THE ANSWER YOUVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR!

I think it’s dumb that people expect others to constantly put on a facade of their choosing, none of us are ever stationary and thats why you should never take anything said to you in the heat of the moment to heart - hell, that’s why you never take insults from strangers to heart! You never know what someone is going through in their life currently, or even just lately. It’s illogical to come to sudden conclusions by hearing a single phrase, or asking one question - there are billions of explanations and various variants of how one might be feeling, why, and how that translates into their actions or words. Some can’t understand why they act the way they do, some can turn it to words, and some are set on a single definition that they’ve long outgrown, the human mind will never be as direct as we want it to, and conditioning will only lead to a deep mask imbedded in everyone and imposter syndrome and alike. See your own self for a second then try to imagine every single person you’ve met to bare such a depth, maybe they don’t have the same interests or stress as you but they just as likely have dreams, worries, strengths, goals, weaknesses, ideas, and lingering emotions and interactions that weigh on their consciousness, hell - even good moments can still loom like ghosts of our past. Nearly all have some sort of tint to the world, to some - it’s full of opportunities and new experiences, to another - it’s full of horror and pain. And all can be right in their own way but the little bubble we live in often has its own flavour, some things it lets in to reassure our prior beliefs and reflecting things that go against it, nice if you want to live a real life fairytale, and a destructive game if you have a self-destructive set of ideologies and core beliefs. Change can happen, but, it’s up to you wether that change is good. To some, social connection is a key component of their lives and every day success, to others, simply being around other people is like being suffocated by a brick wall. Never judge another for not doing what you personally consider as “right”, the goal of spirituality is simply to recognise that there can be a certain base to aspire to and steps taken forth to get to that level, but the goal isn’t to convert others to some set rule and use hope to indoctrinate but to achieve what you set out to do and see results. The main purpose of life is simply to find your own happiness and path of what to do, achieve fulfilment, take care of yourself, and be kind to others even if you don’t exactly like them. This doesn’t mean spend every day working you ass off to one day relax as much as you want, nor allow yourself to be a pushover and fail to stand your ground. It simply means to find what works for YOU and specifically you. Find what makes you feel loved and satisfied and incorporate it as much as possible within your existence. You don’t need to go searching for this uniform answer that helps others and will of course help you, because not everyone benefits from yoga, not all are able to grasp meditation, and journaling and the sorts can be an alien concept to some. This doesn’t mean give up at first step, rather, if you tried and it just isn’t working at all, then don’t force it. It’s honourable to fight for yourself but if you spend more time into wanting something to help you rather than actually helping your self, then maybe it just isn’t meant to be. Remember, no matter what you do - there will exist people who love you and people who hate you, and so, you must only focus to make your own being within your skin comfortable.

[vickyvicarious]

Okay, so this is one of several (I believe?) timeline errors in Seward's accounts. It happens in a few other places but I think nowhere so egregiously as here, with a week of time added in since yesterday's date. I recall that last year there were theories about Dracula affecting Seward's mind in some way, similar to how he affects Renfield and Lucy. While those can be fun to play around with, I'm certain the 'official' explanation is simply that Stoker got mixed up on his timeline and failed to notice that he'd added a week between the 19th and 20th.

All that's backstory though. Because it has only been a day for us, it's perhaps easier to miss, but if we assume the timeline mentioned in the actual text of the entry is what Stoker was envisioning, then... Renfield has seemingly been chained to a wall and in a straightjacket for a week straight:

For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, "cringing"—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.

That's... I didn't really put it together last year, too caught up in the actual dates we're given, but. That's horrifying.

I love the delivery of Renfield's "now I can wait." But something about the amount of time it took makes it so creepy and so sad. He's been raging and fighting for a week, and it's only now when he can finally calm himself enough to go back to his more strategically placating approach towards his captors. (And it seems the moon has prompted this change within him... more thoughts on that later.) Indeed, only when he does so does he regain any semblance of his former freedom.

"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!" It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak.

I think this passage proves how Seward's view of Renfield is very tied to his own personal feelings, and is thus anything but professional and objective. In the past, he's been overly indulgent of Renfield when he wants to discover a new madness that he can put his name to, and has even been tempted to go further; in his previous entry he felt hurt by Renfield ignoring him and then escaping, and lashed out with dismissive assumptions of delusions he must be having, and locked him up/restrained him. Apparently, kept him restrained until he resumed his former more placating behavior. Seward is fascinated by Renfield partially out of ambition, and partially out of this idea that they have some kind of bond or he has some unique understanding of Renfield.

And yet that idea upsets him too. He knows that he himself is abnormal in some way, perhaps is very conscious of or worried about this fact, and kind of scoffs at/dismisses the idea that Renfield might view him as someone who is on the same 'side' or understands his perspective. It sort of feels like Seward wants Renfield to be open with him and confide in him but only in a respectful way that acknowledges him as mentally/status-wise superior. If Renfield treats him as equal to the attendants, that is failing to acknowledge his superior status and intellect and training. If Renfield treats him as an ally opposed to the attendants, then that implies the two of them are of equal status and that Seward's being viewed as mentally on a level (and thus mad at least to an extent) rather than superior. Even as it partially soothes his hurt feelings the idea kind of upsets him, and he kind of scoffs at it.

The last possibility he brings up is that Renfield is using him. But Seward tests that right away and it doesn't seem to go anywhere yet: the cats that previously were Renfield's greatest desire today do not interest him in the least. I keep feeling like there's a weird balance of Seward being very willing to see Renfield as very calculative and secretly harboring murderous plans, but at the same time not having much ability to recognize when he himself is being manipulated by Renfield. Like this pleading/cringing behavior. On the one hand he has definitely noticed it is a deliberate action in the past, but at the same time he seems to consider it an indication that Renfield can be 'managed' again and set loose from his padded cell/restraints. (Not that I think releasing him is a bad idea, but it is an interesting disconnect from how Seward has kind of looked at it in the past, I guess?) Seward often notices when Renfield is trying to get something from him but doesn't necessarily refuse it, or still lets his own emotions/ambitions influence his response. I feel like it comes down to a lot of ableism in his faith that he is smarter/more able to see through and manage Renfield, and thus can afford to sometimes indulge Renfield's efforts to use him. Meanwhile I feel like Renfield has deliberately played into that at least sometimes in order to get his own way, and Seward doesn't recognize how clever he actually is.

Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required….

I love the way he pauses and then says "happy thought!" He truly is just having a sudden idea, and his curiosity is overwhelming his ethics/common sense here. Honestly, in this entry? It reminds me a lot of Dracula once again. I can easily see Dracula thinking this to himself with a few minor changes.

Perhaps on May 15th, before reminding/taunting Jonathan never to sleep outside his own rooms. Or even better, on June 29th when Jonathan asks to leave right then and he gets his wolf idea:

Happy thought! I shall to-night play predator nerves against prey ones. He tried to escape before without my help; to-night he shall have the chance to escape with it. I shall show him the door, and have the wolves ready outside in case they are required….

...look, I'm just saying, Seward is super creepy this entry.