#how dare I come up with angst I cannot implement

[sunset-peril]

I had the awesome idea for my lore where either Zelda or Rinkū writes a message to Link/apology to his wife and tribe (respectively) in song form just before draconification/death and kept safe by the Zora Sage/Zora Queen until Dorephan can (unknowingly) pass it along to Link, who is the first person to read it for millenia due to it being transcribed in Ordonian, who notices that not only is it either a) a message from his wife or b) the last known writing from the infamous Rinkū, but that it has been added onto twice; once being by the king immediately following the one who exiled the Ordonians/Wolfbred...

...but that would require me to be able to write a song.

[candyredmusings]

Slay The Princess Sentence Starters

Sentences taken from Slay The Princess: The Pristine Cut by Blacktabby Games! Change Pronouns As Needed!

CW: Angst, Fluff, Comedic, Romantic

"Now we can both enjoy the mutual romantic subtext to this murder!"

"Yeah do you not know what The Look is? Even I know what The Look is."

"Do you think we can throw her out the window?"

"Hey you threw it out the window even though I just told you not to, I'm proud of you!" 

“WHY DO YOU HATE ME?” 

“What do you mean? This is what you wanted. Idiot.” 

"We ain't done yet, we get up."

"She asks that I tell you to remember her. You won't." 

"BEHOLD! The PERFECT woman!"

“I didn’t think you’d come back. We’re going to have a lot of fun, you and I!” 

“He’s making fun of us!”

“If only I were capable of throwing myself off a bridge.”

"Do I miss your heart because I can’t stand to see it go?"

“I will not be described into submission.” 

"By believing in your limitations you put a shackle on your neck."

"The number of stabbing implements I have is practically zero!"

"The world can't be bad if you're still in it."

"There are few things more terrifying than one's own heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another."

" ...do you not have anything witty to say? I could use a good bit of wit right now."

"The End. Nice knowing you."

"You're using a lot of words to say a lot of nothing."

"But violence and passion are dances that both of us know well."

"No. You stop that! Stop all this nonsense."

"If you want us to ignore her, then why did you tell us any of that 'wide pleadin eyes begging for mercy' business to begin with?"

"Whatever you're trying to do right now, you don't have to do it alone."

"You have no idea how good it is to hear you."

"I think you know who I am."

"HA! YOU BASTARD! Even face-to-face, you find a way to stab me in the back."

"I know you and you're hideous! Absolutely wretched! Just like me!"

"You ask of things that cannot be done."

"Why wouldn't I be kind to you? You are the only thing I know that isn't me."

"Fuck this guy. Don't trust him."

"You will have your rest in due time, and I am sorry for the burdens I place on you."

"I would never dare to tarnish our relationship by assuming myself above you."

"Names are their attempts to capture that which cannot be captured."

"Sweet! I've always wanted to off a monarch. Viva la revolucion!" 

"Oh, you bastard! You're in for it now. I'm wise to your tricks!"

“My will triumphs yours."

"We've hurt each other plenty, and I still like you."

"What nooo I wouldn't stab you."

"Why? Why did you let me do this?!"

"It takes a wretch to know a wretch, and we're all at the bottom of the barrel here."

"They're good questions. Great questions, even. But they don't have any answers."

“Do not mourn her; She has finally been heard.”

"Last time? If somebody came into my house and tried to kill me and I cut his neck open and then he stabbed me in the heart and we both died looking into each other's eyes, well, surely I would remember that! But I don't, so it must not have happened!"

"I just want to make you happy!"

"You've been kinder to me than anyone else I've met. Thank you."

“I’m not going to destroy the world, but I am going to hold it in my hands and squeeze it.”

"Oh that's right! Yeah, fuck this guy, don't trust him."

"If the world ended, how are we talking?"

"I'm going to die now! I think that's what you want."

"You've changed"

"And you've stayed exactly the same"

"I'll be damned. We're doomed."

 For everyone's sake, you're not in love."

 "They always say it's lonely at the top. I didn’t think they actually meant it."

“Ignore all the criticism. You’re doing great!” 

"She's been like me this whole time. She's just been hiding it."

 "Of course I'm not okay! I've never been okay. But maybe I needed to never be okay for us to make this happen"

[penname-artist]

Cars on the Road - Some Thoughts

Saw a bunch of people leaving their thoughts about the trailer sooo I figured I would do the same, I have some stuff that I want to discuss.

Easily the first thing that hit me about the series upon the drop of its trailer is the QUALITY. They outdid their first film with a television series, that is insane! They look fluid and smooth, their lighting and reflections are amazing, and they truly spare no detail in making every last one of these characters fluid and expressive. Pixar you animation gods, you’ve done it again. 13/10, I hope these animators did not hurt themselves trying to design this series.

Okay okay now I want to talk about the thing that had me most interested. Can we talk about the GHOST CARS please???

I will not lie to you, this section of these ghost cars coming to life, and dancing with McQueen in this big room is just, the coolest shit here, I am so psyched for this part of the series. And I’ve got so many questions! Is this Cars haunted mansion, are we going to see elements from the Haunted Mansion ride in Disney put onto this presumed hotel? How did all of these ghost cars come to haunt this place? How did they DIE?

Fanfic wise this could open up a whole new ballgame of things, such as Lightning trying to cope with seeing this after Doc’s passing (if any of you guys have the taste for some strong angst). And on the...*cough* less PG-13 rated side of the spectrum, car possession is now available to be played with as friskily as dared. I’ve already got friends screaming at me not to do it and I legit just might only for shits and giggles. XD

There’s a few things that kinda concern me, too, at least from what we see in the trailer. Here’s just what I’ve asked since I’ve watched it, uh like...like five times-

-Where are so many characters, including and not limited to Mack, Cruz, all the dudes from Rust-eze, all the other racers, and literally anyone from Cars 2??

-Why exactly are Lightning and Mater going on this road trip alone? Is Mack missing because he’s doing something else somewhere? Or Lightning decided that it was going to be a more relaxing and interesting trip if it wasn’t in a trailer the whole time? We know this is Mater’s trip mainly since he’s going to see his sister for her wedding but wouldn’t Lightning want to be the helpful friend and offer a faster ride if they needed it?

(also very important side note, I am so happy that this series is going to be a COMBO and not more Mater’s Tall Tales. Lightning is himself, and he’s being allowed to be kinda open and bubbly and excited to be on this trip with Mater as a team, not just him getting roped into every weird adventure by force and being confused about it. He has a natural desire to actually be here, which is great)

The depiction really reminds me of what they tried to do for Cars 2, but failed at slightly because of the fact that Lightning and Mater were doing separate things and sharing spotlight was getting difficult. But it’s also more than the occasional one-liners that they reduced Mater down to in Cars 3. I hope the balance of the trailer actually does play out into the series, and it’s consistent.

By the way, I combed and combed and combed and at NO POINT did it appear that there was any indicators of the Planes crew being nearby, which has me concerned and rattled. If they aren’t in there after they promised us they would be, I swear to Chrysler I’m gonna make it myself.

(By the way, friends and I are already screaming about the possibility of a season 2 and the chance that rather than going east, they could go west into northern California to an unspecified national park and run into a certain fire and rescue team *intensely waggling eyebrows* We need it so damn bad, Pixar PLEEEEEASE, adopt the late Disneytoon Studio’s orphaned children!!!)

Unorganized additional thoughts:

McQueen having a love of dinosaurs is the fucking cutest thing ever and you cannot tell me otherwise. I will be implementing this into future fics thank you vert much.

Is that monster truck just Cruz? I think that monster truck is just Cruz-

WHY do I have the feeling that the end of this road trip will be met with disaster? We’ve got a clear destination and I have a sinking feeling that when they get there it’s not going to be at all like it was planned.

Okay that’s all we have time for fans and freaks, take care my lovely weirdos, til the morrow, byeeeeee-

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

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

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

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

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Part 6

[caiuscassiuss]

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.1

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Sicheng♡Female! Reader

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) paddling, fellatio, fingering), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo​ for helping me. This story wouldn’t have been possible without you!!!!

Also, this story contains heavy and graphic BDSM with violent contact play and uncomfortable dialogue. You might not like Sicheng very much here. 18+ please.)

Red, red light highlighted the contours of the woman’s back, and threw the rest of the room into dark, dark shadows.

Slap.

A long, drawn-out, strained moan resounded,.

A sinful smile crawled up the tall, slender man’s face as he looked down at her.

January 5th, 2020 

Raesung, Lee

Re: Important Office Notification — 

To: y/nl/n@sinochen.com, dongsicheng@sinochen.com, wangfeihong@sinochen.com… view 389 more

To all whom it may concern,

It is my greatest displeasure to be announcing my resignation and consequent retirement from Sinochen Enterprises. I had been the Head of the Sales Department in this great company for over 10 years and it has been a pleasurable experience to work with all of 500 you, in order to better our enterprise.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of you, from the interns to my managers, for working hard and honestly over all these years. We experienced a 468% sales increase over my tenure, and it couldn’t have been possible without any of you.

My resignation will be announced tomorrow at noon, but I thought it would be better to get a heads up from myself. In the meantime, until a new successor is appointed, my vice president, Xiao Daiyu, will step in and act in my place. A new email regarding possible successors will soon circulate shortly, and I advise all of you to keep an eye out for it. 

Once again, I thank all of you deeply for these wonderful 10 years at Sinochen Enterprises, and I wish the utmost success for this company and all of you individually.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

On one side of the island, a woman finished reading her work email. She remained calm, scrolled through her other emails, and shut down her laptop after seeing no such material.

She faced her high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

The email was written in the usual arrogant tone that her Korean boss took. Not a surprise, seeing as she worked with him nearly every day as the South Asia Region Sales Manager. She sighed, kicking up her feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Y/N L/N hoped and prayed that it would be her.

On the other side of the island, a man finished reading his work email. He remained calm, scrolled through his other emails, and shut down his laptop after seeing no such material.

He faced his high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

Of course, the man was anticipating this as his East Asia Regional Sales Manager. The old coot was due for his retirement, so he could spend time with his many mistresses. He sighed and kicked up his feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Dong Sicheng knew it like the sky was blue that it would be him.

January 6th, 2020 

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong 

7 AM HKT

It was a rather chilly morning, as your assistant knocked softly on the oak door. You finished putting your light coat on the stand. As you hummed for her to come in, she slowly creaked open the door.

She smiled brightly at you. Genuine, to boot. “Morning, Miss L/N. Do you want any pastries, or breakfast goods, to go along with your usual macchiato?”

You considered BeiBei a good secretary—prompt, meticulous, and all what an assistant should be. Sociable, too. However, even with all her amiable requests for lunch or coffee, you couldn’t consider her as a good friend. After all, there was to be a balance of power to be maintained.

“Yes, that would be great.”

Like everything else in your life.

Work went on as usual in the office—you dealt with the clients, you dealt with HR, you dealt with this and that.

BeiBei knocked softly at the door. She peeked in through the door with her sunglasses perched atop her brunette locks and a scarf around her neck.

“Miss L/N? They asked all of the sales department to meet in Ballroom D for an announcement.”

It was noon already? Christ. “Alright, let me get my things and I’ll go along with you.”

You grabbed your cell phone and Dior sunglasses, then quickly headed out with BeiBei. You lagged behind her slightly as she socialized with her other coworkers, laughing uproariously at some inside joke between them.

You wondered what it was like to be able to make real bonds in the office.

Out of your periphery, a large group coming from the other side of the floor was bustling their way through. In the midst, you could see the blonde head of Dong Sicheng, looking down at his friends as if they were his royal subjects.

Psh, you could never see what was the fuss around this boy. To be fair, objectively, he was good-looking... in that pretty boy kind of way. All of his older, middle-aged coworkers looked like pigs next to his lean, pale figure. Yet, all of the sales department, and probably half of the office, thought he was the next best thing since the vibrator.

You thought he seemed too nice, too friendly to be true. Sicheng had the innocent flower boy looks, but you could see the dark edge he kept from everyone. You could see how his smiles never reached his eyes, how his words were always friendly but strained. Dong Sicheng was disingenuous as hell, and it bothered you, but why waste energy over such a matter?

You’d rather focus on other, more productive things.

Namely, the Sales Head promotion.

Your South Asia and his East Asia division converged in the middle of the lobby, forming an even more boisterous crowd. Everyone slowly piled into the elevators to go down.

You were reaching the chokehold of the crowd, but unfortunately you were a bit on the shorter side. It was hard to see where you were going in this crowd, and you wouldn’t dare raise yourself up on your tippy toes, like some fresh intern.

���Ladies first.”

You looked up to see Dong Sicheng smiling at you brightly—his arm extended to herd you into the crowded elevator. You couldn’t help but see a mocking tinge to the curl of his lips.

“Thank you,” you said.

After you had stepped into the elevator, he followed immediately afterwards. You had no choice but to be eye level with Sicheng’s chest. You two were so close that you could smell his cologne, and it briefly think of his cologne all around you—

No. Never. No. No. No. No. No. Nope. 

Dong Sicheng would not tempt you. 

January 6th, 2020 

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong 

9 AM HKT

The department filed out of the ballroom, murmuring amongst themselves about the new development.

“Oh my god, we all know Xiao Daiyu will never be promoted. Yeah, she may be vice president, but Daiyu can’t do shit.”

“Well, who do you think will be promoted?”

“Certainly not you, Lina.”

“Hey, I—”

A new voice enters. “I, for one, think Y/N should be promoted. She’s smart, driven, and you actually get things done when you work with her.”

A hum of agreement went over the little group. Some of them nodded along quietly.

“That’s not a bad idea. She’s cold as hell and kind of intimidating, but I wouldn’t mind working under her.”

You pretended not to hear their conversation, but you felt ecstatic to hear your name in regards to the promotion. It was hard to admit it to anyone other than yourself, but you thrived off of attention and vindication more than what was healthy. The satisfaction of being praised, of getting the answer correct or being complimented was as heady as being drugged.

“Y/N is great and all, but you know who’d I rather have as sales head? Dong Sicheng.”

Your jaw clenched unconciously when you heard that blond asshole’s name.

“Kinda agree. Sicheng’s friendly and it’s easy to talk to him. We also get a lot of work done with him too!”

You could not hear any more of the conversation as they had walked out of earshot, but you felt… sour. You swore to god—if that asshole gets the promotion, you will leave the damn company.

Well, whatever. The likes of Dong Sicheng would be wiped from your mind after the fun you would have tonight with Dolos.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

12 PM HKT

“Hey Sicheng, what did you order?” Some coworker of his said to him.

Sicheng felt an inward flush of irritation. Couldn’t people leave him the fuck alone and let him eat his meal in peace? Without interrupting him about how XX from the implementation team did this and YY from IT did that?

“Oh, hey, um—” What the fuck was his name again? Joon? Jin? “Jae, I ordered a teriyaki salad. It’s pretty good, I’d recommend it.” 

There. That answered any potential questions Jae may have and clearly signalled the end of the conversation so he could eat in peace.

“What about the grilled chicken salad? Have you tried it?”

Alas, not all well-thought out plans would be fruitful.

He continued conversation with his inane coworkers around him at the lunch bistro they always frequented. It was tiring, keeping up the facade of a friendly office boy. His impatience wilted slowly as the people tittered and tattered, laughing and gossiping, god—they were so stupid.

“I like your tie, Sicheng. It’s very nice.”

He turned back towards the conversation as soon as he heard his name.

The so-called department hottie was staring at him from her seat a couch away—her eyes slightly widened, in an attempt to be vexing.

“Thank you, Tzuyu. Might I add, you look very nice today,” he said, as he forced a smile on his lips.

The brunette blushed heavily and turned away in bashfulness. Ugh.

Don’t get him wrong.He rather liked blush on a woman. But, Tzuyu was the kind of woman that would not put up any type of fight, if he chose to seduce her. Sicheng liked the thrill of the fight, the thrill of gradually pressing his control into someone until they were submissive to only him.

God, but Y/N was someone he’d like seduce.

Sicheng thought back to the moment when he courteously gave his spot in line to her, yet she only thanked him off-handedly. Y/N was the only one in the whole damn complex that didn’t give a fuck about his amiable facade and treated him as callously as one would beneath them. He clenched his fist, thinking how uppity and standoffish you were to snub him. That was something that couldn’t ever be forgotten.

Luckily, he knew his darling Dove would be there tonight to take the edge off his anger.

Friday January 18th, 2020

A Busy Street

6 PM HKT

You huddled a light coat around yourself as you checked the address on your phone. 

353 Cornerstone Ave.

You looked up at the British colonial-style building, slightly reminiscent of the Ritz-Carlton a few blocks away. The building was probably a remnant of colonization. Nevertheless, it was beautiful.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, as you dipped into the establishment named Black’s Spa. Swiping off your sunglasses, you beamed at the beautiful lady behind the receptionist desk.

“How may we help you today? Are there any services you would like provided?” she asked.

The corners of your lips turn up. You’ve always liked this part of the game, where you have to gain access into a club. It felt like you were a femme fatale in one of those old Bond movies your father loved.

“Hey, afternoon. I’ve been hearing about this rope treatment. I’ve heard it does wonders for your muscles.”

The girl’s pink tinted-lips twisted into a grin.

“Right this way.”

The zen, stark white corridors of the spa that the dungeon pretended to be eventually led to an innocuous bookshelf. The lady felt around the shelf for the handle underneath the dark wood paneling. A hum of affirmation left her mouth as she closed her well-manicured hands around it.

With a click, the shelf gave way to a dimly lit room that looked like the parlor of a traditional British gentleman’s club. What little light there was was provided by candles and glittering chandeliers, which reflected off of the dark oak paneling of the room. Rich Persian rugs and velvet sofas dotted the room, and the hum and tinkles of conversation meandered around. However, little details quickly ruined the impression that this was a respectable establishment of any sort.

For one, many individuals here were scantily clad. Yes, some were in suits and proper evening wear, but that was contrasted heavily by the diffusion of revealing lingerie sets and sculpted chests. Second, there were casual warning signs posted about the room, asking patrons to practice safe, healthy, and consensual sex, alongside the expensive paintings.

Black’s was the best dungeon in East Asia, no doubt. It was such a bitch to gain access into the club. Yet, what made Black’s so popular was not its top amenities or the luxurious atmosphere—it was the utmost anonymity it provided. 

The depravity that happened in these walls stripped even the most upright individual to their most primal, lustful states. People became lumps of flesh, starving for the next release. The eclectic mix of businessmen, trust-fund kids, and professionals hungered for the anonymity that they would be hard-pressed to find in a regular dungeon (as regular as one could get for being a BDSM dungeon, anyway).

The best way Black’s maintained privacy? 

Masks.

You quickly donned your own dove gray mask, securing the silk ribbons in your hair to prevent it from falling off. Tonight, you were Dove. Tomorrow, you will be Y/N. It was easy to slip into the subspace once you donned your mask, but you couldn’t really immerse yourself into it—not until your master came to you.

A quick glance at your watch told you it was only 10 PM. Dolos had told you in his letter that he would find you at 10:10. He certainly was a curious individual—one with an obsession with symmetry and a penchant for old-fashioned tradition. For fuck’s sake, his letter was sealed by a green wax seal. 

But Dolos was everything you never knew you wanted.

Deciding to amuse yourself with one of the exhibition rooms, you wandered into one that seemed crowded. A girl was strung up on stage, hands bound with chains connected to the ceiling. Her black hair hung around her face and she was as naked as the day she was born. Her voluptuous figure bared to the hungry crowd—a metal table full of paraphernalia was next to the cross.

A brutish man, clad in a wifebeater and tight jeans, walked up to the stage. 

“My slave has been rather naughty,” he announced. “She had the nerve to touch herself without my permission.”

A murmur arose from the crowd, whispering and gasping and giggling heard amongst the shadows. For a slave to pleasure herself, without her master’s permission, was a serious ordeal around these parts. 

The man drew a finger against the side of her breasts, causing her to shiver and a gleam of arousal to run down her leg. “Today, my dear little slave will see what happens when she doesn’t obey her master seriously.”

“Let’s start with something light. Flogging.”

A curl of delight ran through you. You loved flogging; each hit stimulated different parts of your body that ultimately brought you to the brink of an edge. A bit of heat rose in your bosom imaging Dolos, with his Cat O’ Nine Tails, flogging your ass until you were red.

A whimper was heard as he struck her stomach lightly with a cat o’ nine tails. He began alternating strikes against her breasts and inner thighs, as she whimpered and cried, begging for her master to touch her there.

“Oh dear, only good girls get touched in their sweet spot. What’s the magic word?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, sir! Please!”

“Better.”

A strangled scream echoed throughout the hall, as he struck her repeatedly in between the crux of her legs. After the girl was left shaking, he whipped off the juices she left on the leather strands then threw it behind him. You shifted uncomfortably, crossing your legs tightly to ignore the burst of arousal.

“Bend over!” the man on stage barked, grabbing a paddle from the table.

The slave bent over a table immediately, unwilling to risk the possibility of more punishment.

He inserted a knee between her legs and forced them wide open—her pretty cunt exposed.

You could only see a flash of his swing as his paddle connected with her backside, a thunderous smack resounding. Her gleaming arousal was almost to her knee now, and the poor dear was visibly shaking and could hardly stand.

A high-pitched whimper came out of you and you quickly bit your lips, hoping you weren’t heard. Your panties suddenly rubbed you in the wrong places and your knees knocked together, in an effort to stop the heat emanating from your core.

“I see my little girl has lost herself on her way to the Salon.”

A gasp left your mouth as you stared back into a burgundy mask, burnished with gold.

Dolos.

“M-master, but it’s only 10 PM—”

He chuckled—a dark, delicious sound—and stretched him over the chaise you had settled yourself in. Slim, tapered fingers played with the ends of your hair as his plump lips curved into a dark smirk.

“Wrong, dearest. It’s 10:15. What time did I write in the letter?”

You hung your head, playing with the ribbons on your dress. “10:10, sir.”

He tugged on your hair, forcing a whine from you. He tsked.

“Your master has been waiting patiently for 2 weeks to play with his favorite little girl. And yet, she’s late?” You knew he was teasing you, but a sliver of real anger and irritation slipped into his voice. Immediately, you felt guilty and your bottom lip trembled. You had disappointed your master.

“And what do little girls who are late get?”

“T-they get punished, sir. I’m sorry—”

His lips turned downwards until he was sneering. “An apology isn’t going to cut it, Dove. We’re going to the Salon right now.” He roughly took your wrist and pulled you out of the room. Interested eyes followed his clearly irritated and furious gestures.

“Your safe word, darling?”

“Sappho.”

“Sappho, what?”

“Sir.”

His eyes, through the holes of his mask, darkened. “God, I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” Dolos turned around.

Dolos has been your dominant for the last 5 months, and fuck, he has been the best one you have had. Your participation in a public demonstration had led to him stealing the contract from your previous Dom, who was already supremely possessive at first glance. Your eyes, he had told you, were the most expressive he had ever seen. They were the ones that had convinced him to enter into an exclusive contract.

Your eyes traced his tall stature, the broadness of his back highlighted by his nondescript white shirt. The quote from Julius Caesar came to mind. “Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/ like a Colossus, and we petty men.” Such power, such arrogance.

The Salon was Dolos’ room of choice, since he was a legacy member of Black’s. Filled with toys hidden behind halcyon scenes of the English or French country sides and tall, imposing dressers, the room merely looked like a noble bedroom but the things that occured in it… not so much.

“Bend over my lap, sweetheart. I’m thinking… hm, 10 slaps? Double the time you made me wait. What do you think?” He mused, throwing himself into an armchair.

You settled onto his lap, lifting your skirt and exposing your pretty, pink panties beneath. A mixture of nerves and arousal made your hands tremble, but the haze and glossiness of subspace settled over you easily, like your favorite blanket.

“Whatever you deem necessary, sir.”

His chest rumbled. “Good answer, little one. Such a good slut for me, huh?” He whispered to himself, running a paddle over your bare ass.

You barely heard his acclamation of “ten it is” before the paddle delivered a stinging slap to your left cheek. You unconsciously jerked up until his arms forced you down.

“Count for me, Dove.”

“One!”

Another one, but to the flesh of your thighs.

“Two!” you bit out.

Dolos’ hit parts that surrounded your core, but never actually reached touching it. Moisture began to dampen your lacy underthing and you had to bite down on your lips to stop from grinding yourself on his thigh like a brazen whore.

After the ninth slap, he palmed your ass carefully. His fingers dipped in between the folds of your pussy and you held your breath.

“Already, so wet? Christ. Clean me up and I’ll hit you the place I know you want me to.”

Swiping your tongue over his digits, you looked back at his mask and saw the tension at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” Without warning, he shifted aside your panties and struck the paddle against your throbbing pussy.

“TEN!” You sobbed, unable to keep from sagging into his lap. 

He hushed you and ran a comforting hand over your ass, smoothing over the red marks you were sure glowed.

“What a good, good girl you are,” Dolos cooed, caressing your cheek. His thumb wiped away your errant tears and he smirked, patting it.

“On your knees.”

You scrambled out of his lap and onto the carpet, wincing as your heels met your sore ass. You looked at him, wide-eyed, for his instruction.

“Suck my cock.”

A blush spread over your face at his frank wording and your hands moved to unzip his trousers, but Dolos made a noise of disapproval.

“With your mouth only, slut.”

Your hands bunched the fabric of your dress tightly and you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yes, master.”

As you took the button in between your teeth, you used a combination of your lips and tongue to unbutton his trousers. Once opened, you slowly dragged the zipper down all while looking up at him innocently.

His length, girthy and flushed an angry red, sprung out of his trousers. Licking your lips, you looked up to him for permission.

A sly smile came across his face. “Go, darling. This is your reward.”

You took the head of his cock in between your lips and swirled your tongue over the salty precum. He groaned, a gutteral noise from his chest, and his fingers clenched the plush arm rests of the chair tightly.

Gathering some of the precum on your tongue, you released his head and ducked down to take his testes in your mouth. You licked the length of his cock, finishing off with a playful suck to the head.

An angry glint flashed in his eyes. “Stop teasing, slut. Get to it.” 

Dolos clenched some of your hair at the back of your head in his fist, and the pain from the sudden action caused your eyes to water. You’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Spitting on his cock, you took half of him in your throat, bobbing and hollowing your cheeks. Your master made sounds of appreciation, loosening the grip on your just a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, relaxed your throat and went farther down on his thick cock. You were no novice, but you had trouble taking him so deep—even after such a long time together. The tip of your nose touched the base of his cock and you hummed in satisfaction.

The vibrations from your throat seemed to set him off. His previously relaxed grip tightened again and he forced down on his cock until your face was smashed in his crotch.

“Mmph!” You  gagged from his sudden, violent action.

“You’re such a fucking tease, fuck,” Dolos groaned, his head tilted back in pleausure.

Forcefully, he fucked your mouth without mercy. You could barely breathe, and the combination of the pain from your hair being pulled, your throat being abused, and the slick between your thighs caused tears to run down your cheeks.

“You know you like this, whore. You like gagging and choking on your master’s cock. You like being used like a little slut, don’t you?”

Unable to respond, you focused on trying to breath through your nose as he abused your mouth.

“Don’t you?! Answer me!” he shouted, pulling your head back.

More tears dripped out of your eyes at this pain, and you nodded quickly with his cock in his mouth. Dolos narrowed his eyes and forced you further on his length.

He quickly set a cadence and it felt like your mind was filled with cotton. The only sensations was the pain from your throat being stretched, his groans of satisfaction, and the throbbing in between your thighs.

“I bet you’re dripping right now. What a slut, getting off on her throat being fucked,” he sneered. His face was flushed as he neared his peak.

Your knees started to throb in pain, your joints aching at being on the ground for so long. His thrust even harder and faster into your lips, prompting a squeal.

“I’m getting close, slut,” he said between clenched teeth. You could feel the hard muscles in his thighs tensing in anticipation for his orgasm. You sucked even harder on his cock, swirling your tongue in figure eights on his length.

“FUCK!” he shouted, eyes clenched tightly. Both of his hands grasped your head and forced your head onto his cock until your nose touched the base. You gagged and prayed to breathe as warm liquid splashed down your throat. He thrusted his hips harder into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

Dolos pulled out and left the tip of his cock on your opened mouth, tapping his length on your tongue as cum spurted out erratically as he groaned. You flinched as he slapped his cock along your cheeks for good measure. He slumped back in his chair after he rode out his orgasm, his broad chest breathing heavily. In the low light, he looked like a fallen angel with his head turned up towards the heavens.

I will show you how us mere mortals can reach the gardens of heaven from earth, he had said to you once.

You waited with your mouth open, still painted in his seed, for instruction. A few drops of his seed dripped on your chin and onto your chest.

Dolos took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head side to side. He paid attention in particular to your smeared lipstick. A beatific smile crossed his lips and he was so beautiful in that moment, so wicked and debauched and depraved it made your heart ache. 

“What a gorgeous mess I’ve made.”

Tuesday January 21st, 2020 

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

8 AM HKT

Raesung, Lee

CC: daiyuxiao@sinochen.com

Re: Important Office Notification — 

To: y/nl/n@sinochen.com

Y/LN,

It is with great pleasure for me to inform you today that you are being considered for the Head Salesforce position at Sinochen Enterprises. Your name has come heavily recommended to me, and your previous boss has given me a glowing review of your performance these past few years. I, myself, have enjoyed your hard-work and impressive work ethic in your year as Head of the South Asia Division. Two other people are being considered for the role, and you will hear more from Daiyu and I about several interviews and necessary materials. I know you will practice the utmost discretion regarding this email.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

You squealed but quickly clamped a hand over your math. This was it. This was the culmination of your dreams coming true. Being the Salesforce director for one of the largest companies in Asia… shit. That would prove your mom and everyone in that shitty-ass town of yours wrong.

After quickly shutting the door and the windows, you did an undignified jig around your large office filled with fist pumps and silent screaming.

“Y/N-laoban, I have the files for—”

You froze.

“...For… uh… you know what, I’ll just come back later—”

“No, it’s fine, BeiBei.” You cleared your throat and sat back into the chair. “I just had exciting news, that’s all. Come, please hand me those files.”

Beibei quickly handed them to you and moved to scurry out of the room and back to her desk.

“Wait! Beibei, could you grab me an Iced Americano? I feel like I need a treat today.”

Her young face peered at you curiously and nodded furiously. 

“I-If it isn’t too much to ask, laoban, what’s the good news?”

Uncharacteristically, you beamed at her. She seemed a bit frightened at the sheer excitement you were exuding, so you toned it down a bit.

“Let’s just say I might not be the Head of just South Asia any longer.”

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You looked up from your double-screens to see the extremely pretty face of Dong Sicheng. His plump lips pulled in a sort of mocking smile.

“For what? I don’t recall getting engaged nor getting pregnant,” you retorted.

“I overheard a little birdie telling her friends that her boss might move up in the world.” Sicheng pushed off the doorway and moved to place a long-fingered hand over the back of one of the couches.

A sigh left your mouth. Oh BeiBei. 

He drummed his fingers against the back of the couch. “Although, I am surprised Raesung is considering someone like you for the promotion.”

Your eyes snapped to his heavily lidded one. “Pardon?”

“You know, someone of your… type.”

“Elaborate.”

He sighed, like he was dealing with an ignorant child, and moved to lean over your desk.

“We all know when push comes to shove, no matter how icy your demeanor may be, individuals like you will eventually succumb to their emotions.” His mocking smile was an attempt at his nice-boy persona around the office— that made you want to throw your paper weight at his face.

Your jaw clenched. “I knew your family was traditional, Sicheng, but I didn’t expect they were this intransigent.”

He moved closer. “The old ways keep our heads at the right place, woman.”

A snort left your lips. “And I suppose customs guide the ignorant?”

His smile grew razor sharp. “Exactly.”

Your teeth clenched around your tongue. “Excuse me, Sicheng, but I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes—not all of us are as lax as a board member's son.”

Ignoring the barb, he watched raptly as you stuck all your files into your purse calmly. As you moved to show him to the door, he stalled.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Y/N.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Sicheng. Please hurry.” 

“Don’t I get salutations as well? I’m the other person being considered.” He smirked.

Thursday January 23rd, 2020

Your House

9 PM HKT

“Hi, mother. How are you?” you asked.

“Aiyo, my old bones are holding up, but you know what would make me feel more at ease?”

“What, mama?” You kicked off your heels and threw yourself into your lumpy, comfy couch. It was time for that conversation again.

“If you settled down with a nice man and gave your grandfather and I grandkids.”

“I am busy.” 

She continued as if she hadn’t heard you. “I know there are a lot of nice men at that company of yours. Surely there is a rich laoban that you can settle down with? You are not unhandsome, after all.”

“I am my own laoban.”

A moment of silence. “Ah, that’s good I suppose.”

“Thank you, mama,” you replied dryly.

“Aiyo, but you know men won’t like that! The good sort of men want good, obedient wives. How are you going to serve your husband and raise your kids if you are working such a busy job?”

“You say that as if I will marry or have kids.”

A loud gasp came from the other end of the line. “Y/N, you will give me a heart attack early! Husband, Y/N will kill me early!”

You heard a faint grunt and your mother subsequently scolding him.

A migraine started to form. You loved your mother as much as one daughter could, but she was very traditional in the way she looked at things. She had raised you from a young age to be an obedient, well-trained wife of a village man like her. Mother had good intentions of course, because that was all she knew. This was the best way she could prepare you for a good life.

The only reason she let you move to the city was because she thought you would find “good quality” (her words, not yours) men in the city. She only approved of you applying to Sinochen because not only did she see the name emblazoned across her noodle and food packets, she also knew very rich men worked there.

You really had thought that once you had moved to Hong Kong, everyone would be Westernized with more flexibility in their mindsets. But the higher ups in your company diminished those hopes very quickly.

Especially for country-bumpkin you.

You hadn’t known the Hong Kong dialect Mandarin, the new slang and modern mannerisms. Adding onto the fact that you were a woman, Sinochen did not treat you very kindly until you started to learn that being kind would get you nowhere.

And look at what you are now—a highly-paid business woman at one of the largest companies in Asia, living in a luxurious apartment within some of the most exclusive real estate on the island, along with all the pretty handbags and shoes you’ve always wanted. You even knew you were reasonably pretty and attractive, if the way Dolos looked at you was true. You kicked ass.

“Y/N, please visit us! Your father and I miss you terribly.”

You grimaced at the thought of your dirty and dusty hometown in the mainland. But still, you missed your father, who had supported you silently in whatever ways he could, and your mother, who loved you something deep.

“I forgot to mention! Kunhuang has been asking after you. Aiyo, what a good boy. He comes to our house once a month and gives us fruits, you know? Such a kind, kind boy.”

You smiled at the thought of Kunhuang and his childish face streaked in dirt and playing Catch the Dragon’s Tail in the woods near your village.

“Tell him I said hello, mother.”

“That boy— he owns most of the farms around us, wah—he tells us he misses you. Why couldn’t you have married him? You could've been closer to us, you know. Kunhuang and you would have made such cute grandkids—”

You sighed heavily. “I had dreams to chase, mama. I still do.”

Friday, January 24th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Sicheng frowned at the vellum letter in his hand. His dearest Dove was unable to make it this week, citing she had work responsibilities she could not miss.

The letter crumpled in his hand. 

He quickly stood up from the armchair near the cozy fireplace at Black’s, dodging various couples or individuals that attempted to coax him into joining them for the night. There was no need for him to be there tonight.

What a pitiful mess he was—over a woman, nonetheless.

When he had first received a recommendation from his uncle to join Black’s, he was ecstatic. Sicheng knew of the rich history and tradition of the club. It was a holdover from colonial times, when bored British aristocrats created a gentleman’s club that quickly turned into a pseudo-bordello as the 19th century chugged on. Legacy and tradition were paramount to the club. 

His father was too fastidious to enter Black’s, even though his own father was a frequent patron of the club. For all his faults, he was a loyal man to his wife. Sicheng, on the other hand, was a randy twenty years old looking to unleash his private fantasies onto the prestigious dungeon.

The mask and name he wore were given to him by his Uncle, who retired from the club as Sicheng entered. Dolos was the other side of his personality that Sicheng hid from the rest of the world.

But never had Dolos been so enraptured by his contracted submissive, Dove.

Dove was… perfect. While other women just laid there and received his attention like a rag doll, she responded in kind. Whether it was an adorable gasp from her lips or precious, minute twitches, Dolos never had a problem ascertaining what Dove was feeling. She was also such a good girl for him, as well. 

So, so good. Incomparable.

No other woman would do it for him. Well...

Sicheng slammed open the door a bit more forcefully than he had intended. Fuck, not her. Anyone but that prissy bitch. Roughly bidding goodbye to the receptionist of the so-called spa, Sicheng quickly slid into the passenger seat of his Maserati and zoomed off into the lights of Hong Kong.

As much as he’d like to put her in her place, Y/N would never do it for him.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

10 AM HKT

Your ears perked up to hear the sound of muffled yelling outside your office. Quickly standing, you peeked your head out the doorway to see Sicheng fitfully waving a crumpled paper in his fist at two employees, towering over them with his mouth pulled into a sneer.

“—I do NOT pay your salaries for you to laze around and produce substandard work! If my secretary had not caught this mistake within the analysis, I would’ve been fucking HUMILIATED at the board meeting for faulty figures! My ass would’ve been on the line—”

Glancing over, you saw the other girls in the office whispering behind their hands with shocked eyes. In any other situation, you would’ve done the same. Pretty boy Sicheng? Nice, kind Sicheng who dimpled at everyone each morning? It would’ve been unimaginable for that Sicheng to be putting two of his employees (Tzuyu and Xiaogui, you think, but can’t see past their bowed heads) on blast—but this one stood in the morning light, proudly and harshly, with a terrible mask of rage.

BeiBei, who was standing outside the doorway of your office and head bowed with her friend, giggled softly.

“Wah, Sicheng looks so attractive like that. He’s usually nice but, ugh, what I wouldn’t do to get him,” BeiBei pointed at the now snarling Sicheng,“—bending me over at my desk.”

Her friend squealed and fanned herself. “I may need to change my panties after this, oh my god.”

BeiBei nodded sagely. “I knew he was in a bad mood earlier, when I accidentally bumped into him in the elevator, but my god I didn’t expect for him to blow up like this.”

“I wonder what made him so mad? I remember when Jae accidentally spilled coffee over his phone and Sicheng didn’t even get angry—just smiled and patted him on the back.”

You frowned, remembering that day. While he did pat Jae on the back, Sicheng’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and the veins on his forearms stood out. There was a hidden layer behind his seemingly placid eyes, and your suspicions were confirmed after you saw the janitor taking out a broken lamp from his office late one night.

It was that incident, along with so many other tiny occurrences, that clued you into Sicheng’s secret side. You distrusted him solely on that basis. Otherwise, what kind of trustworthy man would hide something like that?

From the corner of your eye, you could tell that Sicheng looked dangerously close to punching something. You decided to intervene before HR got called. Even you had a heart, no matter how cold you were. However, you couldn’t look like you were bailing them out...

“Tzuyu! Xiaogui!” you barked, startling the gossiping women next to you.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards you, along with Sicheng.

You pursed your lips and adjusted your stance. “The Yang reports were supposed to be in my hand an hour ago. My hands are currently empty.”

Tzuyu looked close to crying, while Xiaogui shifted his eyes to the side.

“Go. Before I tell the finance department and you won’t get your full bonus for the year.”

They bowed to Sicheng, then to you, and scrambled off.

There was a moment of silence, until Sicheng had turned his angry attention towards you.

“Well? Why are all of you just standing there? We have deliverables to fulfill, people!” You scowled at the crowd, which disbursed from your shout.

Sichend had not taken his eyes off of you, not even when everyone left.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asked with his jaw clenched.

You narrowed your eyes, but acquiesced, standing by the window overlooking Kowloon Bay as he shut the door.

Sicheng paused for a moment by the doorway, his broad chest heaving. He let out a strangled breath before standing near his desk.

“You do not encroach on MY authority in this office, woman. I know the old men in other departments let you step all over them because you’re willing to put out—”

Your jaw dropped and motioned to defend yourself, but he rolled right over you.

“—but you do NOT get to do that here. Unlike the other fuckers in this office, I think with my fucking head not my dick. I handle my goddamn subordinates the way I see fit, understand?”

Your hands gripped the plush chair you stood next to.

“Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that? They’re under my supervision as well, have you fucking forgotten that? Criticize me however you want, but I draw the fucking line on attacks on my character!” you hissed, stepping closer to Sicheng.

“I talk to you however the hell I want, woman! This is my office. I’m in charge!”

Scoffing, you sat on the arm of the chair. “I know you’re sour you didn’t get the region you wanted. But that's real life, Sicheng. It must suck getting told no, daddy’s boy? Huh?”

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N. You do not get to talk to me like that,” he growled, towering over your deceptively lax figure.

You examined your nails nonchalantly. “Whatever, Sicheng. Let’s see who gets to talk when I get the promotion.”

“Ha! You wouldn’t last a fucking week in that position. No one can stand your uptight ass.”

Your placid demeanor snapped and you pushed a manicured finger into his (surprisingly) built chest. 

“Fuck off, Sicheng! Some of us worked our ‘uptight’ asses off to get to where we are. You wouldn’t be shit without daddy dearest!”

“You wanna bet on that, woman?!”

Too little, too late—you didn’t notice how close the two of you were. His right arms clenched the back of the seat behind you and your noses were inches apart. If someone walked in right now, it would’ve looked like Sicheng was trying to kiss you.

You both were breathing heavily and, for the first time, you observed him from up close—his frustratingly clear skin, straight nose and slender jaw line, mouth drawn into a snarl looking like he wanted to corner you into your chair.

It was… hot.

Unwittingly, you bit your bottom lip and his intense eyes were drawn to the movement. Your legs shifted to rub together at the crux and his pants tented, while his eyes narrowed. He breathed heavily through his nose and, god, what you wouldn’t give for him to push you up against a wall and—

What the fuck!

You recoiled the same time he did, jumping away from each other like opposite poles repelling. A cold sweat formed on your back as you realized you were fucking attracted to the man that called you a whore all but in name a few moments ago.

The feral desire on his face morphed into disgust and the two of you gazed at each other in shock and revulsion.

Rushing out of his office like a bat out of hell, you slammed the door to your office shut and collapsed into your chair. Here you were, wanting to vomit in disgust but your panties were fucking soaking. You groaned and pulled at your hair. How the fuck were you supposed to last until Friday without Dolos? He would somehow fucking know you got yourself off and he would paddle you black and blue.

You dialed the private line for Black’s. 

Your last resort...

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

7:55 PM HKT

Sicheng drummed his finger restlessly against the leather couch, glancing at the clock. His knee bounced in anticipation and he was unaware of the dark energy he exuded.

The man felt like he could explode right now—no thanks to Y/N in his office earlier. Sicheng couldn’t believe he was reduced to a pathetic bundle of nerves all over Y/N and her red lipstick and fuck me! Eyes.

He wanted to crack open that ice-cold facade that you hid behind. He wanted to pick apart every aspect of your being, from your veiled eyes to your restless hands and—

He rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, not Y/N again. Where the hell was his Dove? Although, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anymore than her now. He was about to break their schedule of Friday nights only, but, by some saving grace, the manager of Black’s called to notify him of Dove’s request to meet here tonight at 8 PM.

Sicheng couldn’t get out of the office fast enough. He usually worked late, but as soon as the clock turned six, he revved his Audi to get home and shower. Now he was here, looking groomed as hell for his favorite little girl.

“Master?”

There she were—standing off to the side, wearing a simple skirt and blouse, yet looking like sex personified.

He was so relieved that he didn’t even check the clock to check if his darling girl was late.

“Sit on my lap, sweetheart. Master has missed you.”

She straddled his lap and he buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the tension melting away in his muscles as she sat in his lap.

“Are you stressed, sir?” she asked innocuously, stroking his chest.

He hummed affirmative, tracing his nose over her collarbones. “Master’s had a rough day, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out, hm?”

Dove grinned, and Sicheng could see her twinkling eyes under the grey mask. “Anything for you sir.”

Sicheng heaved her over his shoulder, a squeal to coming out of her mouth unbidden. He smirked. She was lucky he hadn’t stopped her from making noise.

As soon as he got to the room, he made her strip as he pulled down a silk tie from the ceiling. Sicheng roughly forced her hands up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. As he finished binding Dove’s wrists together, he smirked and flicked a finger over her hard peaks.

A small mewl came out of the girl’s mouth, but Sicheng heard it clear as day. A smirk crawled over his plump lips.

“What was that, little girl? You want me to use a riding crop on your ass? Huh?”

Her eyes widened, she held still.

Sicheng languorously looked her over, eyes tracing the dips and curves of her body. “That’s what I thought.”

From a wooden panel, he produced a riding crop, setting aside on a side table as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened the collar on his button-up. Brandishing the crop again, he placed it on her collarbone, the cold leather a stark contrast to Dove’s heated skin.

“Safeword?”

“Sappho, sir.”

The tip of the crop forced her chin up, his intense eyes meeting hers. “Good girl.”

She preened.

He traced it down her chest, circling her sensitive breasts. He chuckled. They were so perfect for him, begging for his attention. She clenched her eyes shut.

Out of nowhere, he sides of both her breasts in two quick snaps of the wrist. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Eyes on me, girl.”

Down and down he went, tracing over her stomach and waist. Sicheng skipped over her mons and started at her feet. He tapped the crop softly against her calves and thighs; he smiled, seeing her keep her stance. Sicheng would delay her orgasm if she so much as bent her legs. The irritating tapping continued until he got to her ass, where he delivered two sharp blows.

He could see her swallow down a moan, her eyes begging him to touch her there. Push and pull, Sicheng reminded himself. Push and fucking pull.

The man looked her dead in the eyes as he snapped the crop all over her ass and waist. Sicheng was unsatisfied. She could withstand the sharp, short pain of the crop and Dove wouldn’t act out.

Throwing the crop to the ground, Sicheng grabbed a ball-gag and paddle from the wall and stalked towards her.

Stuffing the ball-gag into her mouth, he smirked. “Keep your fucking legs straight.”

With that, he wasted no time and swung the paddle straight over her ass. her moan, muffled yet a masterful concerto to his ears, filled the room. Again and again, he paddled her ass until it was hot to touch, taking out his anger at Y/N on her poor ass. She couldn’t think—a buzz filled her ears and a subspace settled over her mind as he kept delivering.

Sicheng smirked as he saw the clear, viscous fluid of her pussy tread down the inside of her thighs. Unable to help himself, he swiped a finger through it and sucked on it.

However, the paddle had hit right next to her throbbing pussy and she cried out, pushing her legs together to relieve the tension.

His slim fingers grabbed her chin. His eyes were wild and his lips were drawn into a familiar snarl. The thought left her head as he hissed. “What the fuck did I just say about keeping your legs straight? You wanna be bad? Disobey my order? I’ll show you bad.”

Uncharacteristically, he threw away the paddle and wrapped a strong arm around her chest. She felt the rough, calloused skin of his palm smack her ass and she couldn’t take it.

 Moans and whines forced themselves past her lips as he kept on going, smacking her ass in quick succession with his bare palms. It was a useless mission trying to keep her legs together but he kept going until she was trembling. The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered into her ear. “You deliberately disobeyed my fucking orders, huh? Fucking put your legs together because you were too impatient for master to touch you.”

“Sir, please,” she sobbed through the gag, saliva dripping down her chin.

Sicheng thrust two fingers into her mouth and she rushed to spit and lube them up. He quickly spread the lips of her labia apart with his finger, and his thumb brushed slightly over her little pearl. The ‘accidental’ move nearly made her pass out, a loud scream echoing along the walls.

“What sweet, sweet screams are elicited from that throat of yours,” he murmured.

Suddenly, he roughly stuffed two fingers into her dripping wet pussy making her scream even louder from the sudden intrusion. Pumping harshly, in and out, an undulating rhythm that made her legs collapse and lean on him totally for support. She cried into his shoulder as he just kept on going, feeling the lush walls of her pussy pulsate against his fingers. Once again, his thumb brushed over her clit and her throat felt raw from her shouting. He rubbed her little pearl viciously while two fingers were still deep in her pussy. Her muffled screaming echoed through out the room and he quickly unbuckled the gag from her mouth.

“Master, sir—please, let me come! I’ll be your good girl, I’ll doing anything you want, I’ll keep my legs apart, I’ll—”

“Come, sweetheart. Come for your master,” he said, his breathing finally a bit labored.

She let out a keening wail and her nails dug into his broad shoulders, shaking uncontrollably against him. He held her close.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

All that could be heard was the crackling fire in the corner of the room. You slumped bonelessly against Dolos on the leather couch, head on his chest, knees pulled up to rest on his lap. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel his fingers stroke your hair and the comforting sound of his heartbeat thrumming steadily. 

“Sir, I… I missed you,” you whispered.

He said nothing. But, as you turned your head up to his, he gazed at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

You blushed, and buried your head in his chest. God, that was too sincere. It actually sounded like you needed him outside the walls of this playroom. You knew what happened when you mixed feelings with sex. Trouble.

Trouble was Minghao. Trouble was dark and mysterious—the kind of boy that made girls go starry-eyed and ga-ga over him. The girls would constantly daydream Minghao “fixing” himself for them, “piecing” himself back together in order to be with the girl of his dreams.

Except they were wrong. So, so wrong.

Minghao wasn’t like that. He was cool, he was cruel, and he was mean. He was the first to initiate your eager eyes into BDSM. He was the one that discovered how good of a submissive you were. He was your first in everything.

In the end, he was too much for you. Minghao would’ve destroyed you had you stayed for any longer—would’ve ruined your already fraying self-esteem and confidence. Yet, when the two of you parted ways, it felt like something had been torn out of your chest. You had dedicated yourself to serving this man, thrown your confidence and dignity on an altar and sacrificed it to him, but he had deigned to not even treat you with a modicum of respect outside of playtime.

Never again.

“Never mind, sir. My mouth ran away from me for a moment.”

His right hand rose to cup your jaw, and his fathomless eyes searched yours.

“You are the only thing real in this world, you know that?”

Your thumb stroked his sharp cheekbones and Dolos sighed. He quickly gathered you up in his arms and crushed you into his chest. You froze, unsure what he planned to do. 

“Fuck,” he said. “What are you doing to me?”

You gazed into the fire lapping at the stone of the fireplace, snapping and crackling. What the hell was he doing to you? Dolos was the first dom in years to make so weak—so attached.

He gave a bitter laugh.

“I came here for control.”

Burying his face into your hair, he inhaled deeply like you would disappear in thin air.

“So why are you taking it away from me?”

Wednesday January 29th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

3 PM HKT

You sighed and played mindlessly with your pen as the clock ticked forward. Sicheng had gone to the bathroom before your quick progress check with him which left you to scrutinize his office.

If there was one word to describe his office, it would be monotonous. White, black, and red with no personal effects in sight. The only thing that made the space not some page from a design catalogue was the simple calligraphy painting bearing a proverb in harsh, strong strokes.

人算不如天算.

Man proposes and god disposes.

Huh. Funny, for a man whom you thought was fettered by nothing but himself.

The scroll painting was also dead set in the middle of room, with two dark bookshelves flanking it. In fact, everything in the room was perfectly symmetrical. The two chairs faced the desk straight on. There were two pens that stood side by side, unnaturally neat at the center of his desk. Even his recycling bin was perfectly in the center of two tables—

A ball of paper, different from the other stark white sheets in the bin, caught your eye. Weirdly enough, the paper broke the bizarre, polished neatness of the room by laying on the floor adjacent to the bin.

Insatiable curiosity gripped you in its clutches, and you bent down to pick up the odd bit of parchment.

Immediately, you felt the quality of the paper. It was heavy and smooth like silk, not something an individual wrote on casually. Hell, it was aged as well. What was Dong Sicheng doing with this?

Opening the crumpled paper (which had felt like it had been crumpled and straightened many times), you took a look at the contents of the paper.

Your own handwriting stared up at you mockingly.

Dropping the paper like it was a burning ember, you fell gracelessly to the carpeted floor. Your eyes widened and your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent you from gasping.

No. That could not be Dove’s letter. It couldn’t. It couldn’t because—

You heard muffled footsteps echoing coming down the hallway outside the office, and you scrambled off the floor and into your chair. Having no time to think, you stuffed the letter into your coat pocket.

“Y/N, thank you for waiting,” Sicheng greeted, striding confidently into his office.

His casual oxford and black trousers were a slap in the face. How could you not notice the similarities between Dolos and Sicheng? The way they walked, the way they talked, the way they looked at you.

With Sicheng, looking into his eyes was like gazing through a veil. Silhouettes and hints of something indiscernible danced in his eyes, alien to his warm demeanor. Looking into Dolos’ eyes was as if the veil had been lifted, naked and hungry desire running rampant and burning with its ferocity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide underneath his stare.

Even his forearms. The way they flexed as he lowered himself into his office chair and took one of the freakishly aligned pens in his sinuous fingers. You could see them twisting and rippling as he paddled your—

“Y/N?”

Your eyes refocused on Sicheng watching you intently, concern written on his face.

“N-no problem, really.”

You wanted to facepalm yourself. Your voice almost fucking cracked and sounded shy, like the twittering of the office girls around him. Fuck, where was your ice queen when you needed her?

A slight smile played upon his pink lips, and hell if you couldn’t imagine him calling you a little slut.

The informal progress meeting continued on in the same vein, you acting uncharacteristically bashful and him hiding his befuddled amusement badly.

The paper felt like it was a brand burning through your blazer pocket the rest of the day.

Love, your Darling Dove.

Friday January 31st, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Friday night once again found him at Black’s, awaiting his weekly tête-á-tête with his darling Dove. But this time, he planned to make it different.

He restlessly toyed with the red, signature box embossed with gold etching. He had never spent this much money on something for someone other than his mother and older sister, but Dove once again compelled him. The necklace with gold filigree had a simple pendant of a blossom, its leaves done in malachite and its petals in iridescent opal. Sicheng imagined Dove in nothing but his necklace, her pretty lips contorted in a moan, and he instantly got hard again.

Fuck. He could not wait to get her to the Salon and kiss every inch of her skin, worshipping her with his mouth and his hands. And after, when she was sated and curled contentedly in his arms, he would ask to remove her mask.

And hopefully, she would say yes.

Then she would be his.

His mouth salivated at the thought, his heart beating just a tiny bit faster at the thought of untying the ribbon of her grey mask and the stupid lace falling down so he could bask in her features. A thousand different features flashed before his eyes, each one as perfect than the next.

Y/N’s cold gaze flashed unbidden before his eyes.

Sicheng’s teeth clenched until he couldn't feel his tongue. As much as he’d like to put her in her rightful place, why was she in his thoughts? Dove was perfect and submissive to his whims, and he was about to make her his. Y/N had no business being even a passing thought.

Although, she acted quite off this week. She was her normal, bitchy self around the office, ruthlessly demanding results while everyone obeyed in a mixture of fear and awe, but Y/N was almost… shy.

She refused to look him straight in the eye, even if, in the past, she had no problem getting all up in his face. Her posture was slumped and hesitant, her hands twiddled and twitched in his presence.

While he liked it a bit more than he should, this was not the Y/N he knew. He had no idea what made her like this and it made him... uncomfortable. Did he do something?

“Dolos, sir.”

He looked up from his broody contemplation into the fire and to the distinguished, older man’s face. This was not some errand boy, this was the owner of the damn establishment. Sir Theodore Lau himself.

“Mr. Lau, nice to see you,” he said, rising up to greet him properly.

“Quite well, and you?”

“In good spirits.”

Mr. Lau’s face took on a pained expression.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Lau?”

The usually unflappable gentleman looked discomfited. “You… I have received this. For you.”

Sicheng cautiously took the letter from Lau’s hands, and broke the wax seal to the aged vellum inside

    Dear Dolos,

   I am sorry you could not receive the contents of this letter in person, but circumstances have not allowed for it.

   Dolos, I’m sorry to inform you I am no longer a patron of Black’s and consequently not your submissive anymore. No, it is not an issue of money. Neither have I been treated untowardly in this establishment. No, I have had to leave because of some personal conflicts.

   I have had the best six months of my life with you. You have made me feel comfortable in my submission, with no shame or judgement in those eyes of ours. I looked forward to our Friday rendezvous, embarrassingly eager for when I could be in your arms again. But that shall sadly never happen again.

   Please do not get angry, but if our six months together meant anything to you, please do not seek me out. It’s best for the both of us.

   Thank you master,

   Dove

Sicheng could only gape at the paper, the letters rerunning and jumbling in his mind until they were all a blur. He could literally feel the blood freezing in his veins and the unnatural stillness he was stuck in.

“She… she said she was sorry. Very sorry.”

Mr. Lau could have been speaking gibberish for all he cared, because Sicheng could not hear anything other than the pounding of his blood.

“What the fuck,” Sicheng hissed after a long time of not speaking.

Mr. Lau could only look on piteously. Sicheng’s face was grotesquely beautiful in the firelight, highlighting his angelic features contorted tortuously. The owner had never seen such raw, unfiltered emotion from Sicheng— from anyone in his life, really. This was the face of a man who had the rug taken out from beneath his feet.

He put a fatherly hand on Sicheng’s shoulder. Lau had known the boy since the boy was an adolescent and a submissive had never left him in such a state.

“We have other girls—men as well—who would be more than happy to serve you tonight—”

“I don’t want to fuck tonight,” Sicheng seethed, brushing the older man’s hand off roughly. “I don’t want any of them. I want Dove.”

How could she do this? Just leave him high and dry with just a letter and unforgettable memories? He thought they were more.

Evidently not, Sicheng thought bitterly.

However, something was off in the letter. There were blotches of water around the page and even in the handwriting, as if a droplet had smeared the page. Of perhaps, a tear.

“Can I meet with you privately in your office?” Sicheng said lowly after he got his rage under control.

Mr. Lau sighed. “Of course. Come along.”

Sicheng refused his invitation to sit, but did accept a finger of bourbon. He took a sip, contemplated the glass in his hand, and hurled it at the wall.

Mr. Lau jumped out of his chair, shocked. “Sicheng, those glasses were from my grandfather!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Like air suddenly leaving a balloon, Sicheng deflated and collapsed into the armchair. The blond youth rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“May I ask you for a favor, Mr. Lau?”

The man, inspecting the now ruined silk wallpaper, snorted. “Unless you replace my decanter set, no.”

Sicheng waved a careless hand. “Consider it done. 1890s, correct? I’ll even pay for the cleaning service.”

Harrumphing, the owner sat in his office chair and steepled his fingers. “So, what may I do for you?”

Sicheng’s burning eyes turned towards him.

“Tell me who Dove is.”

Mr. Lau winced. “Anything but that Sicheng, anything. Not her identity.”

“Well, say goodbye to your father’s decanter set, then,” Sicheng murmured petulantly.

“I can live with that. However, I will never disclose her identity— or anyone’s, for that matter.”

“Please, you don’t understand. I need her.”

Oh, how beautiful he looked like this. A tortured angel materialized from a Michaelangelo painting.

Mr. Lau felt all his years weighing him all at once, and two sides of him warred.

“I’m sorry, but no matter how good your intentions are, I personally and legally cannot do that.”

“Even though my family and I have been patrons of the club for decades?”

“Even then. You know this.”

The blond man’s eyes shifted to the side, and his jaw tightened. His knuckles grew white clutching the wood armrests of the chair he sat in.

“Fuck this!” he shouted, suddenly throwing the chair back with a resounding clash. He motioned to stomp his way out of the room, but Mr. Lau’s voice stopped him.

“She’s a good girl, Sicheng. If she wanted to be found by you, she would’ve.”

Sicheng grasped the door and said ominously, “I will not accept this. Never.”

The older gentleman sighed, and took in the destruction a man’s broken heart had left in its wake.

*cackles evilly* to be continued...

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

@ohpleaseiwillendyou

......I’d like to first of all, thank you for your nice words in that last post......they mean a lot to me and 🥰.......but more importantly......

Don’t you dare say that your writing is “honestly pretty bad if you look at it” I cannot believe you would SaY Such a THING!!! Your writing is absolutely bloody gorgeous!!! And how dare you say that we deserve these likes and stuff more than you because you know very very well that that is NOT TRUE!!!! You deserve each and every single one of your followers and likes and support just as much as we do!!

Also!! I cannot believe you would say that my writing and headcanons are better than yours, doNT YOU DARE SAY THAT AGAIN!!!!! I love you so much and you know very very well that I DO NOT AGREE WITH THAT STATEMENT!!

Your headcanons and angst and writing and every single tiny little ramble post that you make fills me with absolute happiness and are fantastic and AMAZING to look at and read!!!! I cannot stress the amount of times I’ve read some of your angst, and it’s helped me get out of a lil motivation funk. Or the times where I feel like I can’t make anything because I don’t feel happy and reading your funny stories, Endeavour and Edgeshot shenanigans and headcanons has snapped me out of that awful mood and made me so happy again!

You’ve always supported my writing and headcanons and made me feel somewhat proud of my Edgeshot backstory and various other backstories, by coming up with inspiration for your own fics and amazing writing and even implementing some of my ideas into your own gorgeous work!!! I never even thought that anyone would like my backstories and headcanons, let alone enjoy them as much as you have!

Well, I guess to summarise, I aDORE your writing and your posts and every single thing that you come up with....and every one of those posts, whether tiny little rambles to massive long fics, is amazing and your writing is something you should really be proud of because I cannot count the amount of times I’ve been inspired, amazed and genuinely in love with your writing and way with words!!

So here. Have this, and know that I love you, buddy, and continue making your amazing content!

Oh. And CONGRATULATIONS FOR 75 (almost? Or past? Idk but around there from what you said?) FOLLOWERS!!! YOU DESERVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Oh! And good luck for your exams 😌❤️

[bruisedbell]

Hungry for the rush ( aching to be thrown in the ring ). 

 bio. || insp. || closet. || face. 

Character name: Katherine “Katie” Emery Bell

Age / Birthday: Beltane Babe—01 May, 1979.

Gender: cisfemale

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Katie is bisexual. She was taught to see the beauty of a person within as a child and has since applied that to all aspects of her life. She has no preference—instead she weighs on the depth and value of the person on the inside.

Occupation: Hit Witch within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ** ( I love that all hit-wizards have their own assigned beds at St. Mungo’s. How ridiculously appropriate for Katie. )

Affiliation: Katie exudes positivity and always stands up for what she believes is right, so it is really no surprise she considers herself a beacon for the light.

3 Positive Traits:

Adventurous. Daring. Makes up her own rules as she goes. She neither asks permission nor for forgiveness, unless caught red handed. Life is a game and there are no rules, only victories. Katie is competitive in nature and intends to seize as many victories as she can. Carpe rebus.

Kindhearted: Generous. She loves to give—not receive. Katie would give the shirt off her back to someone in need and never expect a favor in return. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for the people she loves. She would travel to the depths of the earth if asked of her.

Resilient: Tough as nails. Like titanium, she does not break easily. She rolls with the punches and rides on waves of fury. Katie is mentally very strong. Quidditch has vastly helped her develop this fortitude. She is a lover above all else, but there is no denying the fighter that reels inside her. It goes hand in hand with her desire to always be winning, or achieving success in any way she can.

3 Negative Traits:

Distracted. Head in the clouds. Plucking shapes and painting stars the way she thinks they should twinkle. Dream on little dreamer, unmoved by the falling reality and fragility that comes from this life. Katie is detached and a bit impersonal at times, especially when she has no skin in the game. It’s hard to hide the vacant look in her eyes when her mind has journeyed into a far world of its own.

Overzealous: Dangerous enthusiasm. Questionable optimism. Lethal tools in the wrong hands. Katie often needs to be reminded to slow down her pace and release her death grip so they don’t become just that when in her possession. Her heart is usually in the right place, but she has the tendency to get in way over her depth without realizing it. Her high energy can be all-consuming and, if she isn’t careful, may drowned whoever gets in her path. It also doesn’t hurt to mention that too much positivity can be toxic, and Katie certainly teeters between dangerous boundaries.

Detached: Katie frequently finds herself separated from reality like she is just a fly on the wall, or a stranger peering through someone else’s eyes. Reality can be a tricky concept to grasp at times. She finds it easier to throw herself into perilous situations with that made-up wall built between her and whatever unknown obstacle the day holds. Originally a coping mechanism she established to help aid with the daily traumas of working in the DMLE, it has since become an increasingly alarming problem slowly tainting other aspects of her life too.

Headcanons.

Katie is often underestimated by those around her. Many say she is too soft; teased and called a princess by others. Her kindness is usually misinterpreted as weakness, but she weaponizes this misjudgment turning it into one of her greatest assets. She isn’t mad at anyone for calling her a princess because they aren’t necessarily wrong; her crown is simply set with daggers and claws versus jewels, and she intends to have it on display for all to see.

Olivia Bell nee Fraiser, Katie’s mum, is muggle-born witch. She married a muggle man named Rhys Bell shortly after graduating. She then began her career at HM Treasury just like her father did before her. HM Treasury is the UK Government’s economical and financial ministry maintaining control over public spending, budgeting, and other fiscal aspects. Public service has always played a vital role in Olivia’s life, and subsequently Katie’s life as well. She witnessed how important it was to her mother and eventually was inspired to lead into her own career within the Ministry of Magic for this exact reason.

Katie is an expert dueler. This is illustrated in Prisoner of Azkaban when she teaches Harry Potter the full body-bind curse (switching that to Neville feels very applicable in this setting though? ). She was in the dueling club for the majority of her Hogwarts career, which is where she first established a solid foundation to nurture her skills. She later joined Dumbledore’s Army during her sixth year when Umbridge briefly reigned over Hogwarts. Having an older brother who loved to torment her as a child also helped play a key role. Once they were at Hogwarts together, there was no stopping her from getting retribution. In fact, she started making an abundance of friends which came with unexpected connections in the form of unique pranks and other jokes to help further her crafty and scheming nature.

Katie is currently working on her ability to cast both wordless and wandless magic. She favors wordless magic. It comes much more natural and is far easier than wandless magic in her opinion, however, both are thoroughly trained and implemented throughout a hit-wix’s career as it aids in the secrecy of capturing their suspects. She is also currently studying occlumency and legillimency with her mentor and fellow hit-wix.

Katie is an expert baker. Strudels. Pies. Puddings. Cakes. Croissants. Macaroons. Alfajores. You name it, she can whip it up in a heartbeat. Baking is her comfort. The alluring aromas of brown sugar and vanilla wafting across her kitchen remind her of a quaint and happy childhood. Present-day, she consumes an irrational amount of sweets, but nothing in comparison to the heaps she has to throw away at the end of the week due to the fact that she simply cannot eat them all. She makes cute little burlap wrapped packages tied with colorful ribbons, which her senile owl Blazer delivers to all her friends… but there still always manages to be more dessert left on the countertop.

Katie is quick, not just on her feet but a broomstick as well. She is known for making fast getaways. A skill she takes great pride in.

The looming war and undeniable political tensions have been anything but pleasant for Katie, and the entire Bell family. Bellatrix Lestrange’s rise to political power was alarming from the beginning for the lot. Katie’s mum maintained a position within the muggle division of government. The muggle-born witch immediately feared for a worst case scenario for someone like herself, or her muggle husband and two half-blood children. One needn’t be overly creative to fill in those lines. Katie had held a position within the DMLE ever since graduating from Hogwarts. Her older brother worked with various quidditch teams across Europe. It’s in a mother’s nature to worry, but perhaps she had more reason and experience in doing so when all their lives were so intricately designed with such chaos. 

Plot ideas: Same plot ideas from the previous group. I want Katie to be confronted with unlikely challenges. I want to see her get involved with those she wouldn’t normally do so. She is everything radiant and positive, so her leaning toward the Order is too obvious in my opinion. I want to see her manipulated and forced into doing things she would have never thought only because there is the risk of losing something greater. Katie would do anything to protect her family and friends. Especially Fred. She has a savior complex. It goes hand-in-hand with her desire to fix people and things, even if a good handful of them turn out to be unfixable. I want to see the closest of friends push each other away and have incomprehensible falling outs because of the unspeakable circumstances and lingering tensions they’re affected by. War changes people and I am anxious to see how it sinks its claws into the vibrant and kindhearted girl we all know—and how maybe just perhaps it transforms her into someone entirely unrecognizable.

Bonus Material: Gryffindor quidditch power team dynamic, angsty!angst, darker threads with purpose and tangibility, lighthearted threads, friends comforting friends, rogue punches, and other comedic content.

[avelera]

For your Misc/Angst Starter prompt, I'd love to see what you would do with "I don't want to be alone tonight".

Oof, it was good to put this together if only to break the block I’ve had lately. More H/C than pure angst, and kinda more of a “fuck you” to the Precursors than H/C, but it was nice to try my hand at “immediately post-Uprising” fic :3 I hope you like it!

Newt/Hermann, 1,200 words

—

I’ll Be Here Waiting

There were moments when Newton was lucid, or at least seemed lucid, Hermann had to remind himself. After ten years without detection, it was only safe to assume the Precursors could mimic Newton to such an extent that every word out of his mouth was suspect.

At least the PPDC had moved him from that wretched torture implement of a chair into a cell, albeit a small one. Glass walls, basic facilities, all in view, a slot for meals. He was allowed guests only if they had clearance, which at this point meant his only guest was Hermann. 

The Precursors prowled within like a caged tiger. On the surface, they had given up the pretense of being Newton since the day of capture. They saw to their host’s bodily needs as if maintaining a machine, paced the narrow space presumably to prevent muscle atrophy, ate the food given without complaint, and stared out of the glass with flat, hate-filled eyes. They smirked their way through the answers Jake Pentecost would routinely, hopelessly toss at them. About their numbers, about their capabilities, answering none of them except with a reminder that Earth was doomed. That they would never stop coming.

“You’re back,” the Precursors drawled as Hermann took his usual spot in the chair set up outside the corner of Newton’s cell. There was a flap in the otherwise bullet-proof glass wall beside him, one of the few spots where he could, in theory, reach through to touch Newton. Where Newton could, in theory, take his hand if it was offered. Or crush it in his grip, with the same awful strength he’d exhibited when the Precursors lifted Hermann by the throat. The thought sent a shiver of goose bumps over his skin. He settled back in the chair and leaned his cane against the glass. “You really think that you’re gonna get anything out of this that the PPDC’s golden boy couldn’t?”

“No,” Hermann said honestly. “I have no illusions on that count, of that I can assure you.”

“Yeah? So what’s it like out there?” the Precursor’s said with Newt’s lips. There was something predatory about them now that they’d given up the facade, something reptilian, as if Newt’s tongue would dart out any second to sample the air. There were still traces of Newt’s mannerisms however, the brashness, the shrill voice, a hint of his devil-may-care attitude, as if they didn’t know any other way to be, didn’t know his behavior was unique to the soul it belonged to and not a general human trait. “Buried all the bodies yet? It looked like a nasty mess out there before your bullies locked us up.”

“Ah-ah, you know the rules,” Hermann said, wagging an admonishing finger. “No information about the outside world for you. If you think my attachment to Newton means I’ll be your weak link, then you are sadly mistaken.”

“Your attachment,” the Precursor scoffed. “You really think that will be enough to free him, don’t you? When it wasn’t even enough for you to notice he was gone, that we had taken him. Some attachment! Why even pretend you’re concerned for him and not here for your war effort, your pathetic invasion?”

Does Newton hear you? Hermann wondered. Is this for my benefit or his? He remembered Newton’s words the day of the attack, how he saw himself as an insignificant joke of a man. Had those been his words or the Precursors? What had they told him about Hermann? That he was a fool, or else that he didn’t care that Newton was taken from beneath his nose? Hermann flipped to the next page and didn’t look up. “Believe what you will. I’m not here for the PPDC.”

A pause. “Then why are you here?”

Hermann looked up and saw the Precursors were frowning, brow furrowed in obvious confusion, the bluster gone. He sighed and decided for honesty. Newton, I hope you’re there. I hope you’re listening. “I don’t want to be alone tonight… and I don’t want Newton to be either.”

He felt naked saying those words, to leave himself so exposed before the enemy and their mockery.

“He can’t hear you, you know,” the Precursors sneered as they recovered themselves. “He’s buried too deep. If you’re here for him then you’re wasting your time.”

Hermann flinched and covered the motion by looking back down at the data pad. “Perhaps. Perhaps you have such an iron grip that you can keep perfect control, prevent him from hearing anything I have to say, and I’ll have wasted my time.

“Or… perhaps you’re lying and he can hear me right now when I say I couldn’t care less whether you speak at all. Unlike my superiors, I don’t believe interrogation has any value. You could simply lie. I’m here for Newton. Because I... care for him. Because I want him to know I’m here and I will never, ever leave his side again. Because I am sorry that I did not figure out sooner what had happened to him, and because I’m sorry it was so easy for me to believe he would leave me behind for better things, but that was because I’ve always known he was brilliant, that Newton could accomplish anything he set his mind to, even when the thought terrified me. It was only easy because it was easy for me to believe I was the inadequacy in his life, that I was holding him back. I hope he can hear me. But even if he cannot, I’ll be here in case one day he can, because I believe he is stronger than you dare admit.”

Hermann started upright at the sound of something striking the glass, his head whipping to the side to see Newton hunched over, one palm pressed flat to the glass wall between them. There was sweat prickling at his hair line and his breath emerged in heavy gasps. His body shook as he raised his head and met Hermann’s eye.

“Keep… keep talking, I…” Newt wheezed. His mouth worked as if to say more but only a strangled noise emerged and he pounded his hand once against the glass in frustration. The last look he shot at Hermann was pleading - pleading for him to hear, to understand.

Hermann was up out of the chair like a shot, pressed up against the glass so close his breath misted in front of him. “I know you’re in there, Newton, just keep fighting them!”

Newt nodded curtly, as if in confirmation, the struggle visible in the clenching of his jaw to even do that much. Hermann wanted to say more, to say everything that he’d failed to over the last ten years. There was no knowing for sure even if this was Newton but the words rose unbidden, reassurances and explanations, entreaties that Newton come back to him, confessions…

Newton jerked away from the glass, body straightening and a hand going up to slick the hair back from his face. The coldness was back, the reptilian gleam in his eyes, but the sneer on his lips was not so cold, not so composed as the last time. There was a definite twist of irritation.

“Pathetic,” the Precursors snarled, and their lips twisted into a mocking smile. “A few seconds of control is what you’re holding out for? He’s had those before. They never mattered.”

Adrenaline surged through Hermann’s veins and his heart pounded as he straightened. “Ah, but don’t you see, this time is different.” He offered a mocking smile of his own. “This time, he has me.”

[lost-in-transition]

cataclysm's eve

This is a very very scary experiment, inspired by my recent therapy session. Perhaps I have come to this point now. I've gone cursively over my list of brooding topics, my memory palace of suffering which I have been imprisoned in for so very long, my oubliette. I've tried to check for each point which major theme describes it, to see if I can summarize and understand why it matters. If this works, then perhaps I might not go back in, because I may be able somehow to accept and live with some uncertainty or even not to be fully right or justified in every one of these regards. Then I might not need to brood. I don't know yet if this is going to work, nor do I know if this change would somehow make me unacceptable to myself, or even to others. I don't know yet if I dare let these thoughts and fears go. If I do, I still don't stop having an opinion on the topics, nor do I stop caring about them, I do not cease my activism. But letting go means reducing my identity needs, the burdens of feeding my identity, getting to a state where I don't need to have certain knowledge on these levels as a prerequisite for feeling that I can live with myself and the world. Below is some summary then, for the first time presented in a way that maybe even non-me people can understand, of the core topics of my habitual angst. Each summarizes many different instances, and I leave out indirect subtrees of this thinkspace, those ones which just follow by formalism (essentially: concerns on logical implications, paradoxes and their patches through ad hoc or revision measures, of the way in which I'd create a moral system from axioms and personal subjectivity - these blocks are huge but they collapse if the system itself is not needed).

First and major theme of my broodings, to what extent are there biologically caused cognitive and behavioural human sex differences? More specifically, are they large enough that without biological modification, society will always have them? That is to say, will it be possible by social change alone to create a society where there exists no context such that I (by virtue of biology) would have to feel that I belong to a group that is different in behaviour and cognition from the sex of women? To this end I would fear various research results on prenatal hormones (e.g. Hines's work, or various intelligence studies including SMPY concluding even small IQ variance differences impact life outcomes), or the non-association between culture globally with other attributes (e.g. Lippa's work, contrasting to that of Nosek). Related to this is the question of whether social outcomes derive from culture (discrimination, stereotype threat, minority stress...) or mostly just reflects biology, as the libertarians claim. Thus the inconsistent studies on discrimination (stockbroker compensation predicted fully by circulating testosterone, Ceci and others swapping CV labels...), the studies on overall high heritability/low environmental impact (e.g. meta-analysis of Postuma et al.) all come in, impacting how often we should expect culturally driven change to work. Moreover, I have relied in my moral system on scaling up utility costs of anything traceable to alterable human action. If these differential outcomes are more rarely anyone's fault, I would have a harder time arguing that it is worth any cost, no matter how high, in reduced efficiency to combat them, making it harder to argue that regardless of the state of the world and our biologies, one should still change these things (and thus create that future Utopia where I would not have to perceive myself as being different from women by virtue of being assigned male). So this boils down to a core fundament still: To what extent are sexual dimorphies of mind culturally malleable? (An honest answer: We really don't know. To some extent, I don't doubt. Are they so to the largest extent? I don't know yet.)

A related theme is: Should we change society so that we eliminate those group differences in behaviour and cognition? This again has been a conclusion I have needed absolutely to reach, because unless I can know with certainty that we should (meaning: that ultimately we will make it happen, because I am Utopian), so that - again - in some hypothetical future I would not need to feel that behaviour/cognition made me any different from women, then I am faced with that immense dark cloud of panic which I am suspecting is my dysphoria. This makes any question relevant on whether we can conclude with absolute certainty that this is the desirable path forward under a consistent system of morality derived from the world and from my own subjectivity, regarding which no-one could ever show me anything which would force me to come to another conclusion. This then would require me to identify - and find that I truly feel according to - a system for weighting utility of outcomes under which those same conclusions would remain under all configurations of reality that cannot be excluded outright. So if there, for example, would be less discrimination happening than I think there is, to what extent are we then still justified in spending resources (opportunity costs included) combating it? There are the happiness studies suggesting modern society with women in the workforce has those women reporting lower happiness scores on average over time (never mind how this may be all dual work consequences, or social desirability factors reducing over time), including also younger women without families (who, presumably, are under pressure to be desirable and cool, nonetheless). There are inconsistent results on whether or not children benefit from long stays at home with mothers whereas time in day care (or if it does not matter much), breastfeeding versus formula, or parental divorce, which in turn seems more likely if there are mixed-sex workplaces and if pornography is available. That supremely flawed study suggesting woman feminists have elevated prenatal testosterone. The Swedish antiracist activist who after saying he was "done with white feminism" suggested that changing gender roles caused more suffering than it helped because now more women die from lung cancer due to smoking, similar claims made regarding HPV-derived cancers, or Toxoplasma-derived schizophrenia (NB not saying in any way I agree with these conclusions!). Many different claims going in different directions, many of them likely wrong. Taken together the question remains: what does the fairness-weighted utility cost versus gain function look like as we move towards creating equal distributions of life choices across genders? It is clear that it can never be justified to discriminate or hold back individuals, and I remain on the side that we should do away with gendered division of labour like this. But I have thus far desperately needed to always remain absolutely certain of that, also on an existential level, not just a political level, because I would need to rely on that future Utopia being the only defensible future in my own eyes, because anything else is essentially an act of self-misgendering. If I can come to no longer misgender myself without having to use a future world as a stepping stone or safety blanket, then perhaps these things all can be less urgent, and I can work with whatever conclusions we eventually come to, meaning to still want to move us all towards agency and fairness.

Certainly, these questions all matter very deeply. In our wanting to improve life and freedom and access, and eliminate unfairness, of experiences and opportunities and outcomes of all individuals, it matters what our options are, how costly each is, which strategies are likely to help to which extent, and which of them will have which side effects. And all of it is complicated - there really are opinionated and biased studies pointing in opposing directions. I remain basically convinced that my social justice intentions are justified, and that the strategies I myself favour in that arena are worth their costs and such that we should implement them. But if I were by some freak chance to be convinced otherwise, were to find myself outwitted by the libertarian crowd, then so long as I still understand myself as undeniably and fully a woman, then at least I can still live in the resulting world. When I understand myself so, this is no longer an existential fear for me. I'll be a person either way.

A slightly related, slightly different theme is the question: should we undertake the political journey to queer the world; breaking down expectations of opposite-sex love, nuclear families, sexual restrictions, and gender roles? I feel strongly attuned to this sociopolitical agenda, and I feel that it is important to my identity that I am not mistaken in supporting it. The claims against would something along the lines of, if somehow a large fraction of people needed the conventional ways to stay as happy as they could, would we queerdos form bad examples in living openly as we are? Would we like anglerfish lure young sensitive things into not undergoing proper gender heterosocializing? What could be the costs? Essentially, making a larger fraction of people (because no matter how repressive the society, some fraction of our kind will still emerge, only unhappier for the repression - this despite the anecdotal claim that those growing up under stronger gender role projection would be more relaxed regarding gender later in life, for which I was never given a source anyway) choose difficult life paths - having to do surgery or hormones, having to come out, having to feel out of place or uncommon for being queer, having a harder time finding partners, and a harder time having children. In a less accepting society, would fewer people live queer lives? And if so, would the reduced experienced difficulties from that outweigh the increased difficulties from society being less accepting for those who nevertheless do end up queer? I believe it would be worse, of course, but I cannot actually prove it. But here is the thing: If I know myself as a woman (and a kinky pansexual polyamorous transgender woman at that!) then suddenly I know myself as important to myself. So really? I'm not going to stand suffering from being closeted or excluded, even if there ends up being people making life mistakes in emulating me, even if that would be what things were like. I can feel I matter if I am she. So this too becomes less panicked.

I also leave out the topics added this present year, the ones which concern: am I actually trans, can I actually be a woman, is this actually something instinctual and fundamental and not autogynephilia or internalized misandry or some other explanation which would seem somehow less legitimate. I can leave these out, because, as has been shown, these are not topics I am going to forget about. I am going to return to those issues again and again and not lose touch with the arguments, because I really am doing this, I am in transition, gaining and losing. It will remain part of my life. Which is a life for which there exists an I that is living it. I am she. I withdraw from extended cloud existence to living as a person within a body. My world gains a centre, which it has not had.

Did not brood last two mornings.