#not sure what it means for how i should read them/what i should glean from them but yeah

[pochapal]

i'm Normal about this aspect now (promise) but it is interesting to track the points where we depart from battler's pov/narrative voice and what that could mean even just on a stylistic/thematic level.

[fumifooms]

do you happen to have that page that talks about the beauty standards of each race?

Yeah sure. While scavenging pics for this I found this neat reddit compilation & chart & theory talk too. I had um, way more to say than I anticipated (I know you only wanted the one page. I have nothing to say for myself. Like most topics in Dunmeshi things snowball because they’re so interconnected. Mercy…) so, many races and observations are only mentioned near the bottom.

Beauty standards and race in Dungeon Meshi

Not pictured there’s also how elven society is harsh on visibly disabled people, and how the demon took away Mithrun’s silver eyes and ears to take away his pride. There’s also how Senshi might have fit in with the orcs more easily because of the dwarven wide body shape, and how they tend to have more body hair too I suppose. In the extra on orcs we see Senshi living with the orcs and he gets judged because of the hierarchy rather than his looks.

What is fashionable also differs from culture to culture, and there’s how tattoos only seem common with elves, though dwarves and others do also sometimes have some. They seem to not raise much brows, which makes sense since for many essentially they’re for professional (magical) purposes especially with elves. Gender roles also differ in type and importance, but generally they are similar to irl ones for the races we see. Elven society seems to be the least gendered, which would be an unsurprising logical outcome of having lesser sexual dimorphism aka they look more androgynous. Comparing fashions and gender roles and how they affect beauty standards would be a whole other compilation and conversation. Kui has great worldbuilding partially because she’s got such a good grasp on sociopolitics and geopolitics. History affects cultures and beauty standards greatly. Kui’s oneshot Distant Utopia was very eye opening on her way to worldbuild and the consideration she gives these things, I do really recommend reading it.

Out of the big 5, we know the least about gnomes, but their sheet does say both culture and region are similar to dwarves’ and they end up being confused together often, so we can imagine the beauty standards are similar to dwarves’ as well.

I wanted to touch on this in a post eventually, but how one daydream hour page said half-foots tended to be curvaceous like in the artwork below puzzled me for a long time, all the half-foot characters we see during canon are rather slender and lanky after all, Chil’s succubi also being more curvy than plump. Economics are for sure a factor in that I imagine, the half-foots characters we see are all implied to be some flavor of poor or malnourished, as are half-foots depicted as empoverished oppressed minorities in general. Even comparing the artwork with the half-foot sheet’s depicted average half-foot, the ones on the left seem bigger. Wouldn’t it make sense though, if unlike dwarves half-foots don’t have similar naturally wide bodies, yet due to idolizing dwarves they work towards having a similar body shape/type to emulate them?

It’s said half-foots tend to stick to pretty ethnically homogeneous regions (aka half-foots-only communities) unless they move to the big city with ambition to try and make it big (like Chilchuck and his wife & kids did), and that’s interesting imo because then that would mean that in a ton of half-foot communities, they rarely see or interact with dwarves whom they try to emulate. Of course, one thing about beauty standards is that when they get adopted, at one point it stops being "this is how dwarves look and so this is how half-foots should look" and just becomes "this is how half-foots should look", most people feel as though beauty standards aren’t learned but innate, so I figure the half-foots wouldn’t have any problem still seeking dwarvish traits when there are no dwarves around.

There’s also stuff you can glean here and there if you want to extrapolate more. Like how in the race swap artworks, Mickbell is only smiling in the dwarf portrait, and Rin’s elven portrait looks very close to her elven one- Rin who is stated to be beautiful in her profile blurb. Benichidori’s extra does teach us tallmen can definitely have harsh beauty standards, but also since the text portrays her as very dysmorphic that’s likely reflected in her thoughts to a much more intense degree than is common, not an accurate strict baseline to go off. Ah, Kabru’s blue eyes are also why he and his mother lived a rough life in Kabru’s hometown, but that seems to be regional. Good post here on the topic of Kabru’s blue eyes and ties to irl history. There’s a lot to be said about Kabru being a man that in many ways is close to elven beauty standards, and how that might have affected or been affected by his upbringing with elves + his persona as someone that can effortlessly charm most people. Marcille’s section here in this essay also goes into Marcille’s struggles to fit in with the ideal image of an elf.

Looking human

Also notable are beastkins and demihumans: Demihumans are all dehumanized which makes people treat them worse. So if you differ from the visual idea of "human" (an in-world subjective categorizatiom just as much as demihuman is) most people do judge you negatively. Elves and dwarves get to fight about which type of human is considered the prettiest, but demihumans are below tallmen and half-foots, they are considered as simply below the beauty contest, incompatible with it.

Onis are perhaps the demihuman people we know of with the least cultural influence on the dunmeshi world, and with less intensely different appearances than other demihumans, but even them are treated as lesser than human, treated as beasts to slain for reputation points or useful strength to have around and command. It’s said their "magnificient horns" and fangs are often shaven off when the oni lives in tallman towns, so you could easily make the argument that onis are denied the right to have their own beauty standards, having to conform to other people’s and going through mutilation to take away features they might otherwise have taken pride in. Inutade was bought by the Nakamotos from a dangerous sumo fighting ring that got one of Inutade’s tooth broken on her first and only fight. Remember when I said different fashions existed in dunmeshi and how those could also affect beauty standatds? Like the elves, if you look at the portraits pages that include a lot of characters that aren’t in the story you can see distinct cultures within the same races, for example one young elf is bald which is in sharp contrast with usual elven long luscious hairstyles, and that’s especially true for onis I think. Maybe not only from different regions but different eras as well… They have a bit of population in the very north of the western continent, so I like to think some of the ogres live in very cold, maybe even subarctic conditions. The point I’m getting at here is that within a race, culture/ethnicity like with Kabru as well will also influence them, different communities will have differing beauty standards. The oni history blurb and third row first collumn portrait remind me of Mongolia (which historically was a lot of different nomadic communities with different cultural identities as well. Something something, the oni empire experienced a decline and then tallmen overpowered them, and now they’re governed and split apart by stronger social classes & slavers and the richness of culture was hurt for it), but obviously many of them are dressed and look rather japanese, makes sense considering living in/close to Wa, and first row second collumn portrait reminds me of ainus which again would be logical considering geographical placement, though I’m far from an expert. Interestingly, ainus are indigenous people both in Japan and Russia- Perhaps the northern western continent ogres are meant to be closer to Russia than Canada like I imagined? Ok tangent over.

The kobold sheet says they’re especially sought after as slaves because they’re "adorable", but locally in the western continent they’re repeatedly said to be seen more as ferocious and dangerous. The dehumanization is most apparent in the first comic below. The language barrier and conflicts no doubt worsen this by a lot, but I think it’d be hard to deny that their canine appearance makes the dehumanization worse. "They’re ferocious beasts, they’re demihumans, they can’t be communicated with". Most characters in Dungeon Meshi’s world are desensitized to slavery and most characters are prejudiced one way or another. Point being, kobolds are fully removed from human beauty standards, but no doubt for kobolds, other kobolds are more beautiful than humans are. They’re assumed to be an uncivilized bunch, but just like any other people they like to aforn themselves with nice clothes and jewelry and keep themselves clean and groomed; they too take care of their appearance and take pride in it.

And the orcs! This one we have the most contact with in canon, with not only there being foreigner characters from the ethnicity or hearsay of their homelands and culture but full on contact with a community. We get to see up close what they’re like and what they think, and of course in turn they’re our introduction to how demihumans are harshly looked down upon and seen as inferior, less human and thus less worth valuing and less dignified. It’s text that orcs are ugly to most humans and humans are ugly to most orcs. Since I judged they didn’t need accompanying explanation the pictures showing this are in the pictures dump at the top.

God forbid you sell vegetables to orcs my god- but then again they do basically mandate adventurers to kill any orcs they come across so yeah the world isn’t above that even a bit.

So yes, my main point here is simply that orcs are yet another evidence of the physical ideal of "human" being an important beauty standard for human societies globally.

Izutsumi is our glimpse at how beastkins are treated in the world, and in Wa at least that’s ending up being caged and mistreated as part of a freak show. Izutsumi hates her appearance and wishes she could leave the feline part of herself behind to only be human. Interestingly, not that we have a lot of info on them so this is very much a take with a grain of salt situation, but there seems to be less stigma around artificial beastmen, those who can shapeshift at will. The main difference is of course appearance, that most of the time they simply look like average tattooed humans. Artificially creating humans is an illegal practice, and no doubt it’s not well regarded, but being able to hide that makes them less likely to be discriminated at any moment, or even just discriminated less intensely. Again, looking human is important, not only for belonging but for safety’s sake. Beauty standards rule the world with harsh hands.

Mermaids and fishmen

Ok we’re done now right? Right-! But wait… Wait…! Mermaids and fishmen are said to be demihumans too, special separate cases to the main three demihuman species however, which is also represented by how mermaids and fishmen both are in the Adventurer’s Bible chapter Monsters meanwhile ogres, kobolds and orcs are in the chapter World. They’re an interesting topic because they directly tackle this topic, not only in a meta way for the readers but also making characters themselves struggle to quantify their humanity with the goal of knowing wether they should be eaten or not, especially Chilchuck. Chilchuck’s "is it really just a matter of feelings?" mini arc.

The party asking themselves "Should we eat this?" is very common, and often they end up playing a little loose on morality, like eating the red dragon’s meat despite it having digested Falin. Not unsimilarly Marcille freaks out a little over the vegetables they harvested having been grown with fertilizer, aka largely human poo. Half of the motivation of "should we eat this perhaps sentient creature" is out of consideration and compassion, but more strongly and more often, the characters struggle with a sense of taboo at eating something too closely related to humans. Even, feel uncomfortable because of the deepseated impression that eating it would dirty them in some way. Cannibalism is an interesting and relevant topic in many ways, but what I want to mention is how there’s the more or less universal belief that committing cannibalism inherently taints you as a person and turns you more monstrous, morally but also literally depending on some myths such as w*ndigos and onis in some cases, like in Touge Oni. Marcille and Izutsumi both express a fear of eating monsters turning them monstrous. Maybe this is part of what Laios was hoping for, honestly. There are two fears here, if eating a demihuman monster constitutes as cannibalism or not, and so, will eating it taint you because it’s a human, or will eating it taint you because it’s a monster? You are what you eat, until it’s a little too literal. You morally are the means by which you get your food, and you physically are the result of your nutrition. Dungeon meshi manages to mix an exploration of humanity with the theme of food because our relationship to food is very deep and complex, psychological as much as physiological.

In the end, the characters sort of shrug and accept that they’ll never quite understand the world of mermaids and fishmen and how they operate, and what that means about them. Laios is the one always challenging these notions other characters take for granted, it’s not obvious to Laios why people are softer on mammals than other animals and plants, it’s not obvious to Laios why people would be afraid of eating a monster just because it’s a monster, it’s not obvious to Laios why some food is gross to Marcille but not fish testicles, it’s not obvious to Laios why you should immediately regard orcs and kobolds badly.

"Cows are probably closer to humans [aka closer to being human] than fishmen, though they’re clearly intelligent", dehumanization to lessen empathy towards them to be able to eat them. Meanwhile, mermaids seemingly have a less noticeable "civilization" or intelligence, they hunt in groups like fishmen, but they don’t use tools and such, they feel more primal and similarly instinct driven, and yet… Do they attract sympathy more? Mammals, humans, is it because of their nature or because of their appearance?

Both the nature and appearance of fish are ones people don’t typically sympathize with. "Fish don’t feel pain", "goldfish only have 5 seconds of memory", "it’s okay to keep in bowls too small and empty for them until they die", so many lies and misconceptions exist that make people less considerate of them. The average lifespan of a goldfish is 10-15 years, the record is 43, but they’re not seen as lives that really matter, so a lot of goldfish die in a few weeks of bad aquarium conditions. There’s a lot of research on animals evolving to look cute and appealing to make some predators want to kill them less and parents want to care for them more, including humans. First good google research result gave me this credible short article on the topic. In Chilchuck’s weighing wether a fishman is far enough from being human or not, "face is 100% fish" is his biggest argument for it being more acceptable. The face, the most important thing for empathy and recognition. The face, the decapitated fishman one that falls into his hands next chapter.

To quote @room-surprise: "Chilchuck can't explain why it's wrong to eat the merpeople, even though it's NOT complicated. But the problem is Chilchuck would have to accept and acknowledge that the merpeople might be people? And that's outside of the worldview he passively believes, so he can't just say that, because he doesn't think that's true. But that IS why he "feels" it's wrong. And it's all you'd need to say for Laios to understand! But it would require acknowledging that maybe the way they're treating and talking about the merpeople is wrong."

The idea of Chil not being able to grapple with how maybe some monsters are more humans than they seem, him who had been an advocate of half-foots rights, half-foots who get undermined and treated as inconsequential sacrifices… Grappling with how he could relate to the merpeople’s situation almost, and pulling away because it’s so existentially horrifying. I do not want to see myself into an hostile fish-faced warrior I can’t communicate with. In a way this also relates to Chilchuck being the only party member who doesn’t see Izutsumi as a cat in the relationshio chart, the only one to treat her with full human dignity. He knows the struggle to be taken seriously, he knows being infantilized and he knows what it’s like to be treated as less than human.

Below, you will see Chilchuck draws the line of where they become not okay to eat as when "they already look like mermaids". Above, there’s speculation that the algae hair is partly to mimic "the mermaids’ beautiful female form". Is it because mermaids are their enemies and the ambiguity might give them extra seconds to attack or flee? Is it to trick adventurers instead? It’s striking to me that this is what works, with the adventurers. Sure the fishmen are intelligent, but explicitly here, what makes them no longer acceptable prey to Chilchuck is that they look close enough to a mermaid, close enough to human. Mermaids who of course themselves have this form to entice and seduce and charm the adventurers they prey on. Chilchuck considers the intelligence due to the tridents, but most of his internal debate centers around their appearance, and the image of a fishman skewered sickens him. The power of mimicry… Mimic being a beautiful human woman. Mimic being cute, babies being wired to make us feel protective and softened. Half-foots, sometimes pretending to be children for scams or help or avoiding trouble.

The mermaids are only concerned by their differences and not their similarities, and have no trouble treating the fishmen as food rather than peers. To an outside perspective like us, the audience, all these categorization of "more human" and "less human" between onis and orcs and elves and tallmen etc seem stupid and unfounded, but to the people living in Dungeon Meshi’s world, elves may as well be mermaids while onis are fishmen, not alike at all, unworthy of empathy and thus fine to eat.

Ultimately, Dungeon Meshi promotes unity. It’s about seeking to understand the unknown and the misunderstood, the dehumanized and the inhuman. It shows the good that comes from seeking to understand what you do not, even when that’s one another.

[windvexer]

Heyy! If it’s not too much of a hassle what are some divination tips for tarot? Sometimes it feels like I am really good and than other times it’s like ehh

Sure, I could use a break before I start crocheting again 😅

I want to emphasize that tarot is one of those things where people really build up personal beliefs around it, so the following is in no way universal. It's all just what I currently feel and believe, heavily influenced by my beliefs as a spirit-working witch.

Most of the actual tips are at the end. I hope this helps!

Structures and Methodology

Tarot can't "magically" come up with valid answers no matter how it's put into use. It's a hammer and a screw situation; sometimes, using the tool incorrectly is less than useless.

Not all tarot spreads are very useful. The type of spread can have a huge influence on success. Try setting aside 'one question per card' spreads and see if that helps improve consistency in your results.

Not all tarot meanings are very useful. Tarot card meanings evolve and change over time. Modern meanings tend to be much more heavily skewed towards topics of introspection and self-help. Try reading books about the history and interpretations of tarot cards themselves to expand your understanding of each card. I recommend The Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson for a strictly historical look.

Not all tarot questions are very useful. Learning how to phrase and frame questions, along with how to select a spread to place them in, are vital skills for the reader. Try focusing on strictly defined, open-ended questions.

Not every tarot deck is useful for every reader. It can come down to art and author meanings, but it can also come down to personal connection: a deck may work great for you for reading some types of questions, but fall flat on other types; or be more hit-or-miss. If you have multiple decks, try rotating between them or doing deck interviews to discover what types of questions they best address.

Memorizing the cards is not necessarily useful. It's not just that there are 78 cards, with 78 potential reversed meanings, each card in and of itself potentially having multiple meanings; it's also that depending on context, the core meaning can entirely change. Professional readers at events will pull out the guidebook and look up card meanings. There is no actual reason to try and memorize the cards unless you really just want to.

It's useful to have a map that helps navigate the cards. By adopting simple structures that paint large parts of the deck with broad meaning, interpretations can be easier to tackle. Another popular 'map' is the Fool's Journey.

You don't have to use the entire deck for every reading. Only using some parts of a deck to read is called reading with a restricted deck, and I really recommend practicing it as a way to develop a relationship with the deck structure. It can also be a very useful way to focus readings on one area of life (e.g., a new business venture reading may be read using only Wands and Pentacles).

That being said,

Check to see if cards are accidentally missing. Reading with a restricted deck is one thing, but I find my readings go weird if a card accidentally fell out and is lost.

You should take notes on your readings. I know it's a hassle, but the information you can glean and analyze from your own work is invaluable to figuring a lot of stuff out, like, what kinds of spreads work best for me? And what kinds of questions do I excel or fail at? Because next comes...

Energy and Individuality

Some questions are more draining or difficult to read than other questions. Here are my illustrated beliefs on the matter, explaining why some questions that seem straightforward can be nigh impossible to grasp. Try taking notes on the scope of the questions you can answer well.

Not all diviners are equally skilled at reading on all things. A diviner may have a special talent for certain types of questions (such as the outcomes of new ventures, or navigating the inner landscape), yet may fall flat when it comes to other questions (relationships or social intent, for example).

Any specific situation may have barriers to being read clearly. This is true even of mundane situations not expected to have magical influence. Sometimes, a certain situation, person, or concept will be shielded from view - and that can have nothing to do with the reader or querent.

Celestial timing may be a factor. Things like moon phase, time of year, or time of day can sometimes influence people's abilities to easily connect or easily interpret cards. Try paying attention to timing as part of note-taking and see if that's a factor.

Caffeine, drugs, alcohol, and rest can be a factor. Once I reach a certain level of fatigue (usually before bedtime) I can't read at all. Caffeine can sometimes also "close the veil" for me and limit me from being able to interpret readings. It might not be a factor for everyone, but it's something to pay attention to!

For practitioners, metaphysical workings can use up all available energy for divination. I find that my "pool" of magical energy feeds both my divination and my spellwork. Exhausting myself in one area (such as doing lots of energy work exercises) means I have exhausted myself in another area (no juice left for readings).

Witchcraft and Magic

Spells and wards can affect your ability to perform divination, sometimes in weird and unexpected ways. Go through spell notes to see if there is a chance prior, ongoing spells may be messing with your ability to read on certain questions. A big giveaway is when divination doesn't seem to work well specifically within a warded area, but this isn't a strict rule.

Prepare a place of reading, or reading cloth, enchanted to assist with finding answers. By consecrating and tending to such a place, such as a divinatory altar or divinatory reading mat, powers of far seeing, truth, and accuracy can be accumulated and much more easily raised. For those that have the space, a full divinatory altar can be an extraordinary tool. For such places, especially consider the power of symbols which open roads and gates.

Prepare a Charm of True Reading. Find, or develop, a small rhyme, charm, or prayer that calls on powers which support you and requests that your upcoming reading be clear and true. Repeat this before each reading, as desired.

Prepare an oil. A skin-safe carrier oil steeped with bay laurel, star anise, and lavender; or just bay leaf if the grocery store fails you, can be enchanted (especially under the full moon) to assist with opening the second sight and securing more accurate readings. Dab some on your forehead, ideally along with the Charm of True Reading.

Prepare a head covering. For some people, covering the head and/or partially blocking vision, can assist with entering divinatory headspace and with the receipt of visions and intuitive connections. As much as I like fancy things, I often end up using sunglasses and a hat. Being in a dark room might help as well, especially if you can get a candle in there.

Prepare incense. Here again bay laurel, star anise, and lavender can serve if you're able to powder and burn your own blends (remember to enchant them); but an enchanted stick of commercial incense will be fine (in any scent). Enchant the incense for the purpose of casting away doubt and influences that cause ill-sight, and to create an energetic haven where answers readily arrive to be interpreted by you, the reader.

Cast a circle. If you like to write your own rituals, especially focus on the concept of the circle being a liminal space between time that connects the worlds, almost like Grand Central Station where many threads of fate (and information) meet.

Consecrate your deck. Use any consecration ritual you like, but especially one that employs powers supportive of divination, true seeing, and psychism. This is almost certainly best done on a full moon. Consecrate your deck to be a tool which can peer into the threads of fate on your behalf, and then only reflect absolute truth back to you.

Enchant a tool to nurture and safeguard your decks. A lovely amethyst stone or clear quartz (or any variety of stone, bought or found), maybe one marked as special by putting it in a handy net, can be enchanted to be a protector of any deck it sits on. The value of this is to keep the deck enthroned in an additional layer of protection against untruth, but also to keep it bathed in energy related to divination and psychism. For those worried about decks getting magically "dirty," this is a good solution.

Also, cleansing decks sometimes is necessary, but it can be an easy operation. I find that spreading the entire deck face-down and mixing up all the cards in a big pile provides an adequate cleansing much of the time.

Spirit Work

Show your deck some love by providing it with offerings and a shrine, just as you would for an honored spirit. If the shrine isn't possible, an offering is excellent - maybe once weekly or monthly (depending on how often you use it), and even a small offering before each reading is useful. In my beliefs, this action goes far beyond making a deck happy with you - it can provide real, tangible effects on energy drain and the 'power' of your readings.

Petition gods, ancestors, or helper spirits. Beyond a Charm of True Reading, simply praying to helpful and benevolent powers to provide an assist can be really helpful. This is also an important way to develop a relationship with a guiding divinatory power. Speaking of which,

Get in good with a god or spirit who is associated with divination, psychism, etc. The Moon itself is a very solid choice. Apollo can see the future, and his buddy Bay Laurel (whom itself can be worked with as a divinatory spirit) can pack quite the punch. The dead are often said to be very good at helping with divination, but necromancy isn't for everyone. A witch who wants to become powerful in the ways of divination is wise to seek out helper spirits who are very good at this task.

Don't forget the gods and spirits of the thing you want to read on. If I wanted to know whether or not selling something online is worth the trouble, I might not just ask a far-seeing spirit to help me. I might also petition Hermes to grant me special insight into his domain. You can even use other spells you've cast (such as a prosperity spell) as a "foothold" into a certain area, but that's a whole topic in and of itself.

From time to time, a spirit may cause trouble. Divination can sometimes be interfered with by spirits who are upset with us. General offerings to appease offended spirits, or to make nice with the spiritual neighborhood around you, are well undertaken. They can be done even if you don't know that you've actually upset anyone.

[magicalbats]

Day 14: Orgasm Denial

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7925

Warnings: Afab!reader, (lots of) gendered language, social power dynamics, boss/employee, upperclass/lowerclass, tbh I’m not entirely sure how to tag some of this xmdkxkdnd, manual masturbation, dacryphilia, I wanted reader to be a bit of a bimbo in this one so if she seems stupid that’s why lol

A/N: sorry this one is late! I am officially behind on my prompts now but regardless of how long it takes I WILL be completing this Kinktober challenge! Unfortunately the real world demands attention sometimes but I’m not giving up 😤

⭐

Stamping down the urge to nervously fiddle with your hands, you clutch at the front of your arpon to keep them still and try very hard to focus on what the man in front of you is saying. The Palais Mermonia housed a great many regular faces, some of which you only saw from time to time and could not seem to commit to memory, and yet you’d been seeing mister Danon’s more and more often than anyone else’s recently. You didn’t understand why that would be though, and had at first written it off as mere coincidence. A simple matter of happenstance and nothing more. 

But then it kept happening at an ever increasing frequency until it seemed like you were running into him almost every day now. Only then had it occurred to you, in a far off, distant sort of way, that he must have been making a concerted effort to talk with you like this. That was the only reasonable explanation for it that you could glean, because the one person you saw at the Palais with any amount of real regularity was the honorable Iudex himself and certainly not the man who’s job description you could not seem to recall. But that didn’t exactly explain why. 

You wanted to understand what would make him seek you out like this, so you attentively listen to mister Danon when he speaks even though you sometimes find him a bit difficult to follow. He seemed like he was probably a good person and respectable enough, but he had a strange habit of jumping from topic to topic without much rhyme or reason that you could discern. One moment he would be talking to you about matters of work, about documents he needed to have signed or the latest gossip that had everyone all in a buzz, and the next … why, he would suddenly say something off hand about recreational activities to do in the city or places to dine, a book he’d read recently and even the types of food he fancied. 

It was all very strange, and listening to him talk does not help in the slightest. In fact, it actually seems to make it worse. 

You didn’t have the slightest idea why he would want to discuss upcoming stageplays with you nor why he should feel the need to announce that his favorite dish was aspic as if it was something that should be of great interest to you. It was all really quite strange. 

“You see, if you take a few fish when they’re still flopping around and fresh,” He tells you, eagerly gesturing his way through an explanation you hadn’t asked for. “That will guarantee their taste and ensure your aspic comes out just divine. Like something straight from the Gods themselves, if you want the honest truth of it. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything more sumptuous!” 

“A - ah,” You make a valid attempt to smile politely but it was difficult to keep up with him like this. What did you care for the precise steps to make such an unappetizing sounding dish? 

“You know, if you were interested, cherie … I could make it for you to try, if you would like. Ah, what I mean is — it might be nice if we can sit down together and chat over a meal at my residence. Just the two of us.”

Your brows slowly crawl straight up to your hairline. “Oh.” 

Before you can think to say anything else, an attention grabbing thud against the marble floor makes you spin around and a smile quickly overtakes your face. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It is a pleasure to see you today.”

The kindly man sends you a slow, vaguely bemused half-smile. “Good afternoon, mademoiselle. Mister Danon. You looked like you were having a rather lively conversation just now. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?” 

“Of course not, monsieur. It was nothing important at all.” You beam up at him, eager and happy to hang on his every word no matter how benign or minuscule. Much to your surprise, though, he sends another unreadable look over your shoulder and when you turn back to Danon you’re more than a little surprised to find him slouched as if in defeat. Your eyebrows quickly make the climb up to your hairline again. “Mister Danon, are you alright? Goodness, you suddenly look quite unwell.” 

“Yes, everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.” He waves off your concern, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he makes a concerted effort not to look directly at you now and instead turns his attention towards monsieur Neuvillette. “Forgive me, your honor. I’m afraid I must be going now. My break is almost over and my presence will be sorely missed if I fail to show up on time.”

The stately Iudex inclines his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgment. “You needn’t apologize, mister Danon. On behalf of all of Fontaine, thank you for the hard work you do.” 

Giving monsieur Neuvillette a stiff bow, he turns to do the same to you. “Mademoiselle.” 

You quickly bob a perplexed curtsy back. “Monsieur?” 

Ignoring or perhaps not hearing the question in your voice, Danon pivots on his heel and makes a hasty retreat down the long corridor without so much as a backwards glance. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’ve said or done something wrong though, and you watch him go with a tiny flutter of anxiety in your chest until another soft thud of monsieur Neuvillette’s cane on the marble floor pulls you around again. 

With a small frown in place, you tip your head back to look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

He offers you a small, gentle smile, no doubt meant to placate and soothe, though it does little in the way of good. “Please do not look so put out, mademoiselle. Would you like to accompany me to my office?” 

Nodding, you fall into step beside him. You find yourself listlessly fiddling with your hands now, unable to stop it when it felt like you'd made some horrible faux pas, and they anxiously flit over your front to smooth out invisible wrinkles. What a strange and confusing situation to end up in, and with no idea how to navigate it either. It seemed like you’d done the exact opposite of what you’d initially set out to do … you didn’t understand it in the slightest. 

“Forgive me for asking you such a strange question so suddenly, but … did I say something to offend mister Danon just now?” 

Noising a quiet sound of consideration, monsieur Neuvillette thinks on that for a brief moment. “I am certainly no expert on the topic, mademoiselle, but if I am not mistaken I do believe mister Danon harbors a romantic interest in you. I believe he may have felt slighted when you said what you were discussing was of no importance, and he took it as a sign of rejection.” 

You jerk to a sudden halt with an inelegant scuffle of your heels. “Romantic?” Eyes widening in mute horror, you feel your cheeks start to grow uncomfortably warm. That did make sense, you were more than just a little stunned to realize. The way he made the effort to find you wherever you were working, stop you and talk to you; the way he would casually sprinkle in bits and pieces of his personal life and subtly suggest food, diners, places to go and things to do … had he really been laying out suggestions this whole time hoping you would show an interest in him back? But — “But he never said … oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I had no idea!” 

He looks at you with a soft, sympathetic smile where he’d stopped half a pace in front of you. “It is alright if you didn’t know. Situations like these can be difficult to — parse sometimes, and I do not think you acted with malicious intent. Come, let us continue this over a cup of tea.” 

Embarrassed and roiling with a crushing sense of guilt, you slowly trail after the Iudex to his large, exquisitely furnished office where you quickly fall into your usual habit of preparing the chinaware while he situates himself on the ornate lounge. It is muscle memory alone that sees you through your task, motions practiced and subconscious after working at the Palais for so long, which comes as a great relief in that moment. You were far too preoccupied with this startling revelation to give the pouring of the tea much thought. Mister Danon’s intentions were shocking enough but, perhaps even more so, you’re surprised at your own lack of awareness on the matter. 

You felt rather bad now, for listening to him so attentively and humoring the conversations he was always keen to share with you. Had he mistaken it for budding affection on your part? Have you unknowingly encouraged him to keep trying or, somehow worse, made him believe you were merely toying with his feelings this whole time? What a terrible thing to do to another person, intentionally or not. 

Monsieur Neuvillette silently regards you when you bring the tea over on a silver tray but you can’t bring yourself to look at him while you set everything down on the low table in front of him. He was always nothing but kind to you despite your lower station of housekeeper, just as he was with all of the staff that kept the Palais functioning as it should. Everyone from the notarizers and the title clerks right down to even the janitors were treated with nothing but respect and dignity, and that very much included you. But you were a bit too ashamed, too guilty to meet his gaze right now, and you quickly shuffle back a polite distance once everything is laid out so you can further avoid his eyes. 

A stretch of quiet settles over the room, and you have to try very hard not to start fiddling with your uniform again. 

“Won’t you make yourself a cup and join me?” He ventures at last. 

“I couldn’t, monsieur Neuvillette. But thank you.” 

He seems to deliberate over something for a short beat before half turning his body on the lounge to look up at you. “I must apologize for prying like this but what about the situation with mister Danon has you so upset? If you didn’t know what his intentions were then you certainly cannot be held responsible for not acting accordingly.” 

You hesitate to discuss this matter with him, well aware that it was improper and impolite to talk over such things with not only the aristocracy but also the man who was effectively your employer. It felt very much like an unspoken boundary that should not, under any circumstances, be crossed but … when you take in monsieur Neuvillette’s imploring expression your resolve starts to crumble. He was a wise and exceptionally astute figurehead who always treated every case laid out before him no matter how small or insignificant with the utmost care and consideration. Perhaps he would have some insight to share with you, or at least some advice. 

“Well,” You finally relent, tipping your chin down to shyly regard your buckled shoes. “I’m aware that this might sound a little odd but I just feel so guilty about everything … I should have realized sooner why he kept seeking me out like he did. As silly as it is, I can’t help but feel like I tricked him somehow.” 

“That is a silly thing, isn’t it?” He agrees in a soft, endlessly patient tone. “How could you have tricked someone if you weren’t aware of what they wanted from you? In the unlikely event that a case such as this were presented to me, I wouldn’t even be able to rule in favor of misrepresentation on the defendant’s part. You have to act with knowing and intention to be held accountable for trickery.” 

You despondently mull that over for a long stretch. Logically, you knew what he was saying to be true and you, as everyone else in Fontaine, trusted his judgment implicitly. It wasn’t so much that you doubted him but, rather, your guilt was so great that it couldn’t accept this answer. The thought alone that you might have broken mister Danon’s heart after stringing him along for months almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Does that mean you wouldn’t deign to punish me for it?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 

“No, not unconscionably. No one in their right mind would.” 

It feels like you're withering on the spot. You didn’t understand it yourself, why you were so upset to hear this rather than relieved at finding you hadn’t broken any laws or regulations that would hold you accountable. Even if mister Danon were to try to file a suit against you to mend some of his bruised ego it sounded like he wouldn’t even have a case to stand on — and that was good. 

So why did it feel as if you were skating by without making proper amends for the transgression?

“Mademoiselle?” 

You finally bring your head up to look at him. “Do you think mister Danon will forgive me if I apologize?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression softens, taking on a truly remorseful edge. “I don’t know, little one. He might. I can’t see into the future any more than you can, but I think if it’s something that bothers you so much then it certainly wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.” 

Blinking back a sudden deluge of tears, you take an impulsive step towards him with the tray clutched to your chest. “Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I don’t know what to do! How can I possibly ameliorate my actions if he might not even accept my apology? I — I didn’t mean to lead him on!” 

Very neatly, calmly, monsieur Neuvillette folds his gloved hands on his lap and studies you for an indeterminable amount of time with that closed and shuttered expression. You aren’t sure how many minutes pass when you’re a right mess inside, all your emotions kicked up into such a veritable whirlwind that it’s all you can do just to hold it together. But, at length, he eventually draws a careful breath. 

“What I’m hearing is that your guilt over this matter will not be dissuaded until you feel appropriate action has been taken against you to right what is, in your mind, a very serious wrong, intentional or not. Is that correct?” 

You blink, more than a little surprised at how concisely he’s grasped your thoughts on the matter. It almost sounds foolish when he puts it like that, in such blunt terms, but there is no denying the pang that resonates within you. “Yes, monsieur. I feel terrible for what I’ve done …” 

He seems to hesitate, his brows drawing inward almost imperceptibly. “Guilt can function as its own form of punishment as well, and a very effective one at that. But you must understand something, mademoiselle. The law simply is not applicable here. There is no legal recourse and, therefore, no system in place to enforce any sort of repercussions against you.” 

You take another step closer, feeling fervent and hot. “Then will you punish me, monsieur Neuvillette?” 

Abruptly, he goes very still. “I am hardly in any position to mete out such discipline,” He says slowly, carefully. “And, far more importantly, I’m not quite sure what you would have me do. I don’t believe this situation would call for a monetary fine or even any corrective action on an employment level … and I’m certainly not going to spank you over my knee like a child.” 

Flustered heat crawls up your neck to settle in your cheeks. You hate the way your knees grow weak and knobby at the thought of that, but you were decidedly in agreement with him. It would have been inappropriate for him to strike you in any capacity, least of all over something like this. Still, though … 

“Isn’t there something to be done?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s expression settles back into that somber mask again, eyeing you for a drawn out beat before he finally issues a clipped sigh. Leaning back to recline against the lounge, he stiffly crosses his legs and once more settles his folded hands atop the bent knee. “Come here, little one. Stand next to me.” 

Your feet almost don’t want to move from the spot but you force them to uproot so you can cautiously shuffle forward. You aren’t sure what to expect when your cotton stuffed head was such a mess, but all he does when you come up beside him is hold out an expectant hand. It takes you a moment to realize what he wants and you flush even hotter as you pass him the tray. Taking it from you, he sedately sets it aside on the cushion before fixing his attention on you once again. 

“This is another topic in which I lack expertise but I might have something in mind that could satisfy your need for penance. However, I will not force or otherwise coerce you into it, and you will likewise be free to walk away at any time. Once you have decided you’ve made the appropriate dues for leading mister Danon on, as you put it, then this arrangement will end immediately. Is that agreeable to you?” 

You bob your head in a quick nod. “Yes, monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you.” 

Squaring his broad shoulders, the usually kindly disposition with which he carried himself outside of the courtroom fades and is replaced by the stern set of his mouth, the slight tension along his brow, to indicate that it is the Chief Justice sitting before you now. A chill runs up your spine at the change in him, so subtle yet unavoidably obvious, and a sharp look from pale lavender eyes stops you from saying anything. You’d never before been subjected to such a hard expression from him and you can’t quite stop yourself from sympathizing with whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves standing before him in court. It really wasn’t any wonder why he held the title of supreme judge in all of Fontaine when you saw him like this. 

“Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle. If you would be so kind, please lift your skirt for me.” 

Your spine stiffens with a tremor so powerful it very nearly bowls you over on the spot. Obediently, though, you reach down with numb hands to gather the full, flouncy material of your uniform and shyly hike it up along with the lace petticoat underneath. 

“Higher.” He commands, intently observing the slow ascension of your skirts. “That’s it, up around your waist. Good.” 

Sucking in a faltering breath, you sway unsteadily on your feet and try not to lose your nerve. The thought that you would be able to alleviate your guilt with this steels your resolve though, and your hands start to shake as your stockinged upper thighs are revealed to him, the simple garters holding them in place and, finally, your lace panties. Your face is on fire while you nudge everything up a little further to make sure it was satisfactory and to his liking despite still harboring some very real doubts about this in the back of your mind. 

He did say he wasn’t going to spank you … didn’t he? 

Casually, monsieur Neuvillette reaches out a hand to slip long, elegantly poised fingers into the space between your thighs and you suck in a sharp gasp when he nudges them up against your cunt just so. The touch is featherlight and barely there, but it makes more blood rush into your face to leave you rattled and a bit dizzy. But you don’t pull away from him as he takes his time petting over the apex of your fleshy mound and the slit running along your body, determined to see this through. Somehow having him touch you like this was not nearly as embarrassing as the way his expression doesn’t change while he does it, you’re quite ashamed to realize. 

“Are you sensitive here?” He asks you softly, prompting you to swallow. Hard. 

“I … I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

Quietly clicking his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette presses up against you a little more firmly, gloved fingertips digging into your defenseless clit to make you jolt and give a startled yelp. “You seem responsive enough to me. I only know of this particular activity in theory but … well, it doesn’t really matter. I believe we should have no problem at all using this method for your penance.” 

“W - which is, monsieur?” 

“I believe I’ve heard the people call this ‘edging’ before. It sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Like some sort of barbaric torture technique.” Carefully observing your face, he pushes up even harder to grind tight, mean little circles against that sensitive pleasure button, and your eyes grow big as you stiltedly rock forward on your toes. “I suppose it could still be called that, depending on who you asked. The instigator or the receptee. I’m sure they would have drastically different opinions on the matter.”

Whimpering, you numbly readjust your hold on your skirt to make sure it stays up and out of his way while he’s doing this. Not that you were entirely sure you liked this specific method in terms of punishments when it was so obvious your body was eagerly responding to it – from the way your pussy clenches around nothing and starts to slick for him and even to the way your nipples stiffen against the inside of your shirt – but perhaps that was a good thing. Would you have really been able to say your penance was paid in full if this trial were not appropriately challenging?

“Wh … where?” 

Blinking at the little mouse squeak noise, monsieur Neuvillette just keeps rubbing over you with that steady motion of his hand. “I beg your pardon?” 

Trying valiantly to keep the fluster off of your face and failing miserably at it, you shyly avert your gaze. “I was just curious … where did you hear of this?”

“A reasonable question.” He relents, allowing the smallest note of humor to color his voice. “While it is true I don’t often partake in such crude conversations, it can be a little hard to avoid at times. Even here, in the Palais Mermonia. I believe they refer to it as ‘water cooler talk’.”

“Oh.” You’d overhead such things before too, now that you thought of it. The other women who worked at the Palais were more prone to gossip, joint complaints about their husbands or beaus, fawning over babies and first days of school, and academic achievements, while the men … they would sometimes change topics when they saw you coming but more than once you’d caught snippets of inappropriate conversations. A recent visit they’d had to a brothel or perhaps how they fantasized about doing certain things to their partners. You always felt mildly scandalized whenever it would happen, shocked that such discussions were being entertained at the Palais, and yet — 

Letting out a slow, stuttering breath, you carefully glance down at yourself to look at monsieur Neuvillette’s hand disappearing between the soft pudge of your thighs. This was vastly more inappropriate than any ‘water cooler talk’ and that realization embarrasses you a great deal. Your cheeks feel a little hotter, your blood pumping harder, and you whine, very low in your throat. Was this really an acceptable form of punishment? 

You think it probably is, because the shame that comes with it is potent and cloying, especially when your hips give a weak judder at what he’s doing. To think that the Iudex himself was touching you like this … 

“Does that feel good, little one?” 

Twitching at the sound of his voice, you give a stilted nod. “Yes, monsieur, thank you … but — but I don’t think I quite understand. Are punishments supposed to feel good?” 

“Not necessarily, no. But this is only a part of it. Relax, sweet girl. I will ensure your guilt is appropriately mitigated in due time.” 

You still don’t truly understand it, but you allow yourself to ease into it anyway. Relax into his touch. Slipping your eyes closed, you just take a moment to feel the sensation of him rubbing over your cunt. The press of his firm fingers pudges your lips to highlight how soft and pliable they are, the blunt tips of his gloves sinking into the slit. Even the thin layer of your panties is not enough to lessen the drag in any meaningful way, and it doesn’t seem to take long at all for you to start feeling sticky with arousal. It’s copious and excessive, almost implausibly so considering that he’d only touched you in this one specific spot thus far. Hardly at all. 

You hadn’t thought you would be so easily excitable and yet the proof of it is in the way you tremble for him, the way your breathing gradually picks up to make your breasts heave under your blouse, and it quickly becomes difficult just to stay standing in place. You wanted to twist and pull away, give your drooling cunt even a moment's reprieve, but you don’t give in to the urge. That wasn’t what he’d agreed to, and you trusted his judgment … 

So you stand there, trembling, while your stiff nipples cut up into your shirt in search of the same friction, and you try not to cry out. Your pussy tingles against his hand, the pressure it exerts so constant and steady that it rapidly starts to feel like the building pressure in you is reaching critical mass. Much sooner than you could have anticipated or guessed, it was as if your body was particularly weak for monsieur Neuvillette’s dutiful attention. 

Softly wheezing when your legs buckle and threaten to give out, you subtly tip your pelvis further into his hand and it becomes that much more apparent how wet you really are. How stiff and engorged your clit had gotten. A violent shudder tears through you at the meaty, swollen drag of it under his fingers, head tipping back and. - - 

He retracts his hand so suddenly it leaves you lurching in place. Raggedly gasping at the sudden loss, you turn wide, wild eyes on monsieur Neuvillette but he merely gives you that same somber expression as he interlaces his fingers on top of his bent knee once again, unfalteringly casual about it. 

“That will be all for right now, mademoiselle. Thank you.” 

You just gape at him, stunned and confused, with your skirts still hiked up around your waist like a shameless fool. “Wh - wha —“ 

A look of sympathy flashes across monsieur Neuvillette’s face. “This is the penance you wanted so badly. As many times as you like, I will bring you close to orgasm but I will not let you actually reach climax. It is the only suitable punishment I could think of for your specific … transgression.” 

It takes a great deal of effort for you to do it, but you suck in a slow, shuddering breath to steady yourself. “I … I see. Thank you, monsieur. I understand now.” 

“Very good. Now, run along. I’m sure you’ve got work to do elsewhere.” 

He offers you a small smile that you think is meant to be reassuring but it does very little to distract from the throbbing ache in your cunt or calm your pounding heartbeat. Numbly, you drop your skirt and petticoat back into place and run your hands over it to smooth out the (now real, not imagined) wrinkles as you slowly make your way towards the door. It was like you were in a trance. 

“And mademoiselle?”

You pause, turning to look back at him. “Yes, monsieur?” 

“I would like to see you in my office again around noontime. Please do not forget and don’t be late.” 

~*~

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just how insidious and cruel this strange brand of punishment truly was. You left his office such a sticky mess between the legs that even trying to clean yourself in the powder room did little good against the slick oozing out of you to stain your panties and make them stick to you, moulding against your cunt. It serves as a near constant reminder of how close you’d been to climax, how monsieur Neuvillette’s fingers had felt touching such an intimate part of your body, and how torturous it had felt to have that friction taken away so suddenly. 

The wisdom of the Iudex impresses you even now though, for you did indeed see why he’d deemed this the only appropriate corrective measure that would fit the crime. You had unknowingly strung mister Danon along with your feminine charm and wiles, so it did indeed make sense to turn that back around on you in some way. 

And although it does take a while, the distracting pulse in your cunt slowly fades into an afterthought in the back of your mind while you flit about the Palais tending to various tasks and seeing that everything was as it should be. At some point you even start to forget how your damp panties cling to you and that makes it much easier to view this trial as an easy obstacle to overcome. You would simply allow monsieur Neuvillette to carry out this task a handful of times, consider your self flagellation completed and then move on with your life. 

Yes, this really was the best method of making your peace with the situation. 

Comforted in your conviction, you return to monsieur Neuvillette’s office at the appointed time and issue a gentle rap at the door. His voice filters through without missing a beat, calling for you to come in, and you enter without reservation. 

Perhaps you should have been more wary of underestimating him or this game you were playing but you think nothing of it as you make your way across the room to stand in front of his stately desk. He looks up at you with a brief smile that inexplicably makes your pulse thrum a little faster, and that surprises you slightly. Catches you off guard. 

“Thank you for your punctuality, little one. I have a meeting scheduled after lunch is over so I wanted to tend to you before I got too busy.” 

Self consciously, you avert your gaze. “Are you sure this is alright, monsieur? I don’t want you to go hungry because of me.” 

“Nonsense. I planned accordingly and already ate before you came by.” Not lingering on the thought for very long, he takes a moment to straighten a stack of papers and neatly set them aside, out of the way. Nudging his high backed chair out from under the desk, he half turns and situates himself first before reclining against the backrest and finally looking up at you again. “Come. No need to feel shy.” 

His words have the opposite effect of making you feel ten times more shy than you originally did, and you can feel yourself starting to blush again as you slowly round the desk to come up beside him. Standing just a scant few inches from him like this it occurs to you, suddenly, that you probably should have been a bit more apprehensive about returning to his chamber like this. He was going to touch you again … oh, perhaps you had not thought this through all the way.

“Here.” He says, drawing you back into the moment with a gentle pat against his leg. “Sit on my lap, little one. This should make things a bit easier for both of us.” 

The flush that crawls up your face is an intense and overwhelming one. “M - monsieur, I — I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous!” 

“Is it presumptuous if I’m telling you to do it?” 

Your spine stiffens at the slightly hardened tone in his voice, the edge that seems to cut across any of your weak excuses, and you quickly realize it is once again the Chief Justice sitting before you now, not the kindly monsieur Neuvillette. And he was looking at you very expectantly. 

Swallowing your nerves, you reluctantly shuffle closer and turn to lower yourself onto his leg with a slow, stiff motion of your body. The firm pressure and warmth of him underneath you is almost enough to send you running from the room in hysterics, but before you can even think to change your mind his arm comes forward to secure itself around your middle. A surprised little yelp bursts out of you when he hauls you back against him to settle more firmly on his lap, completely disregarding how you tense up and shudder on top of him. 

“There. Isn’t that much better?” He softly coos at you, tugging you back to lean against his front. Your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t fight it, only whimpering quietly when he at last has you situated how he wants. 

“M - monsieur …” You mewl into the suddenly statically charged office, unable to stop it, but he just quietly tuts at you as he turns his head to press his mouth against your hair. 

“Now, now, you’re alright. I’ve got you. There isn’t any reason to be so nervous.” A violent tremor tears through you when you feel his lips purse against the side of your head in what you think must be a brief kiss — but you don’t get the chance to fully process the significance of that as he bends a little closer to put his mouth near your ear now. “Spread your legs for me, little one. Let me see you.” 

Dizzy with the surge of white hot arousal that abruptly crashes into you with all the force of a sack of bricks, you give a weak, twitchy roll of your body against him and reach down with trembling hands to grab at your skirt. Slowly inching it up, you tip your chin down to watch with him as more and more of your thighs are revealed. The soft pudge around the tops of your stockings embarrasses you somewhat but not nearly as much as your panties do. Even from this angle you can see a dark, wet spot staining the crotch when you ease your legs open and you whimper softly at the sight of it. 

“Goodness, you certainly soaked yourself earlier didn’t you? Poor thing,” With a quiet click of his tongue, monsieur Neuvillette reaches down past cotton and lace, and voluminous frills to slide his hand over your mound. Your breath hitches as you watch him do it, cupping your pussy with an almost apologetic squeeze, and you quickly turn your head away before you can say or do something else you’ll regret today. 

You had to admit, it was very naive and shortsighted of you to consider this an easy penance just because it was not a constant, pressing concern at the forefront of your mind. How very foolish you had been. 

“I was thinking about it earlier and I found myself quite curious,” He admits, still just holding your cunt in the palm of his hand. “Would it be too impolite of me to ask how often you usually pleasure yourself?” 

Your chest dramatically heaves with the ragged gasp you suck in. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that’s … why would you ask me something like that?” 

“Oh dear, I hope I haven’t offended you. That was not my intention, little one. Please forgive me.” A pause, while he turns his head to press his lips against your hair again. “It is just that you are so shy and your body is so sensitive. I wondered if perhaps you were too ashamed to take care of your own needs in this manner, that’s all. I’ve heard some women are.” 

Lungs painfully constricting inside your chest, you stiffly lift your hands up to cover your face. Having the Iudex pet you so intimately was one thing, but discussing such matters with him was something else entirely! 

“P - please forgive me, monsieur … you haven’t offended me it’s just — I have no experience with this sort of thing. I do it, sometimes. Pleasure myself like that. But I’ve never had anyone else t - touch me in that way before …” 

“I see.” 

Silence settles over the room for a long, drawn out stretch that soon starts to ride the line of being uncomfortable. You can just start to feel the sting of hot tears creeping through at the corners of your eyes when he gently pats your cunt with the flats of his fingers, startling a surprised noise out of you. Lowering your hands enough to see, you gape down at yourself as he somewhat possessively cups his hand around you again and gives the pudge of your labia a light squeeze. 

“Such a silly thing you are.” He says against your head, displacing some of the little flyways there to send them dancing at your peripheral. You barely even notice it though, trembling at the faintest hint of a growl in his voice when it sets your guts to vibrate and seems to reverberate inside your chest cavity. You’d never heard him sound like that before but don’t get the chance to linger on that thought or question it, because he nuzzles further into you until it feels like he’s speaking directly into your ear now. “In the future you should try not to be so forthcoming with your body when it comes to men. Had I been any less honorable I could have all too easily taken advantage of you earlier and I could still do it now had I wanted to. I understand your desire for wrongs to be appropriately righted as that is the very foundation Fontaine was built on but this is not the way to go about it, mademoiselle.” 

Your mouth warbles open but nothing comes out. All you can do is sit there, quaking on monsieur Neuvillette’s lap, while his fingers slip into one side of your panties and tugs them aside. The sight of your own cunt lips, puffy and flushed with arousal, surprises a faltering animal noise out of you that seems to echo endlessly inside the room. He pays it little mind though and simply curls his thumb to brush over your slit and the clitoris hiding within, smearing sticky slick with that fine leather glove and nudging your body into opening up to him. Legs twitching, you jerk your hands down to latch onto the arm locked around your middle, clutching at him even as you fitfully writhe against the sensation. 

All at once your earlier arousal comes crashing back with a vengeance, temporarily forgotten but not near as snuffed out as you would have liked it to be. Your clit thrums under his stilted caress as if the climax you’d been close enough to taste but not able to experience had lain dormant this entire time while you ensured the water pitchers were filled, the snack tables stocked and the fireplaces were appropriately stoked wherever they were needed. It shocks you a great deal to realize how powerful your arousal truly is, and you buck your hips with a whiny moan that would have embarrassed you under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances would not have found your cunt absolutely flooding with a deluge of fresh slick, nor would your clit have been swelling as eagerly as it does. You can feel the meaty, engorged drag of it under the soft petting of his thumb, almost idly drawing it back and forth with a total lack of urgency that makes your head spin perhaps even more so than the sharp stabs of pleasure do. You wanted to cum, and the knowledge that he would not permit you to just makes you want it even more. 

“Please, monsieur —!” 

Softly humming, he presses his thumb down a bit more firmly. “Are you already getting close, little one?” 

You tip your head back to rest on his broad shoulder, panting up at the ceiling while shuddering waves of yet unrealized ecstasy crash over you, each somehow more powerful than the last. Instinctively, you inch your legs further apart even as they tremble fiercely for him and you think, idly, you probably would have vibrated right off him had he not been keeping you pinned against his front. You’re helpless to do anything except sensitively quake like this, and you do so with great enthusiasm. 

“It is too much … I - I can’t take it!” 

“You will.” He assures you, his voice soft again but it still carries that subtle hint of an edge underneath the surface. You didn’t understand it, why he would sound like that. What had brought it on. Was he even more displeased with you than he’d suggested? 

The thought alone brings tears to your eyes almost as much as the cresting pleasure making you writhe on his lap, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to make him feel bad for causing you to cry when you were the one who had asked for this … but oh, it was so very hard not to give voice to the sobs threatening to wrack your body when it was all so much. The firm, weighty pressure of his thumb petting over your cunt, his other fingers idly teasing along your slit where they were still holding your panties aside. The smell of him, the taste of him lingering on the back of your tongue, his sturdy weight underneath you. It was all too much, and it felt like you were drowning in him. 

“Let this be a lesson to you,” He continues, unconcerned with the way you twist against him and choke on stuttering gasps. “Even more pressing than the matter with mister Danon, I’m far more concerned about how easily you gave yourself up to a man to do with however he pleased for the sake of penance. Needless self sacrifice is not justice, sweet girl. I do hope you’ll remember that.” 

Bending his head close once more, monsieur Neuvillette presses his mouth to your hammering pulse, and you mewl at the contact. It is not so much a kiss, you abruptly realize, as it is a not very subtle threat. Like there was a beast lurking beneath that kindly gentleman facade … 

“Oh, monsieur, I — I’m going to —“ 

“No, you are not.” He cuts across you, practically hisses it against your jugular, and you nearly jolt right off him when the arm around your middle slides up to lock across your front at an angle. Suddenly he pinches your nipple through your shirt where it’s stiff and straining against cotton, giving it a mean little tweak to make your back bow. Trying to twist away proves futile and you yelp at the pleasure laced pain even as your cunt drools even more obscenely in response. 

You felt like you were going crazy. Truly wild with potent, cloying arousal so powerful, so overwhelming, you can’t even process what’s happening to you while you shake right to the edge of your release. 

And just like that, the hand on your pussy retreats, pulling away altogether to leave your panties shamelessly askew in favor of latching onto the swell of your inner thigh and keeping them spread when you frantically buck your hips in search of that fleeting touch. You heave and groan, reeling at the total loss of friction, but it is useless. Monsieur Neuvillette is an unyielding presence at your back no matter how earnestly you squirm against him, and his gloved fingers give your aching teat another cruel tug to further stave off your release. 

You’re more than a bit horrified, in a delirious, hazy sort of way, to find that the pain serves its purpose in chasing away your climax enough to leave your pussy absolutely throbbing in the wake of this denial. No longer teetering right on the precipice, it seems to force you back a pace or two and all you can do is look on longingly at the promise of oblivion beyond with yearning and desperation. Wanting, but not allowed to have. 

You truly had underestimated just how tortuous this punishment technique could really be … 

Through the murky fever you feel monsieur Neuvillette brush his mouth across your cheek to press at the corner of your eye, effectively drawing you out of your groaning stupor. Sucking in a ragged gasp, you clutch at his arm all the tighter and try in vain to lean away. 

“M - monsieur?” 

“You’re crying.” 

Noising a soft sound of confusion, you blearily blink your eyes open to realize that they were in fact clouded with a swimming sheen of tears making them burn. Sniffling sadly, you start to reach up to swipe them away in shame but the hand on your breast comes up quicker and locks under your jaw, physically turning your face towards him. 

Laying spread out on top of him with your head forced back against his shoulder, you look up at monsieur Neuvillette from just a scant few millimeters away. His expression is still somber and unreadable but … the glint in his pale lilac eyes makes your chest hitch. It wasn’t hunger the same way you’d on occasion caught other men looking at you — men like mister Danon, you realize in retrospect — but it is a hunger all the same. Something old and primal, from a long forgotten dark age that inspires a slow curling tendril of uncertainty low in your gut. You don’t think it’s lust per se, not in the usual sense, but a kind of lust,  perhaps. One you didn’t have a name for. 

One you weren’t sure if you wanted to learn the true nature of. 

After silently studying you for a long moment, he finally drags his gaze from your face to regard the tall, stately clock standing sentry in the office, the only witness to this lurid state of affairs. “I still have some time before my meeting. I think we should be able to squeeze in one more session before I have to go.” 

You very nearly give voice to a hysterical, broken sob, just barely managing to choke it back with a frazzled whine instead. “Monsieur —“ 

“Hush, little one.” He murmurs and leans close again, stunned surprise washing over you when his tongue flicks out to lick up a wet tear from under your eye. You gape at him in shocked disbelief when he pulls back enough to look at you again, leaving behind residual moisture on your skin, but he doesn’t even look the least bit put out or sorry for it. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing. Perhaps it was. You had no idea – and if he recognizes your surprised reaction for what it is, he certainly doesn’t show it. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will ensure your punishment is properly administered and then we shall further discuss your other behaviors in greater detail. Rest assured, you will be appropriately corrected in time. I will personally see to that myself.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[thewertsearch]

I love these combination names. Breath/Light is an interesting one, because the 'Mixolydian' implies a musical theme, and I thought Time was the musical Aspect. Maybe it's not that simple.

I'm also wondering if I should read into the prices here. Like, is the expensive Breath/Space combination the strongest? If so, does that mean Breath synergizes particularly well with Space?

I guess there's only so much you can glean from a single menu. For all I know, each shop has a random selection of Fraymotifs, with multiple combinations for each price tier.

I can't wait to see these in action - not least because the presence of combination moves implies the kids are going to start fighting as a team. That's a development which is well overdue.

The Quest Bed isn't exactly hidden, is it?

I was assuming the god tier mechanics were obscure, since no one's brought them up before. Maybe the Quest Bed has other uses.

EB: i am not sleepy at all! [...] AG: Would you like me to put you to sleep? [...] EB: you mean, you're asking me this time, instead of just doing it? EB: what happened to you wanting to be responsible for me becoming a hero! AG: John, I am clearly involved in your rise to power now regardless. That can't 8e changed! AG: I am giving you the option, 8ecause at some point a hero has to start making choices. AG: Once you take a 8r8k from hunting treasure and stop getting distracted 8y side quests, you eventually realize that's what this game is all a8out. AG: The choices you make affect the destiny of the universe you cre8te, as well as the type of hero you 8ecome.

Plus, you're modelling him as Better Tavros, so you're trying to make him a little more decisive.

I'm not sure what to make of all this talk about choices. The comic is really emphasizing it, but it really seems to fly in the face of what we know about Paradox Space, which is really all about lack of choice - or at least, lack of meaningful choice.

You can choose 'the type of hero you become', but you can't opt out of being a hero entirely. You can shape your universe however you want, but you never chose to burn your world and light the Forge.

AG: It would have 8een nice if someone was around to explain all this to me, and let me have some control over my own f8. AG: I had to do this a much less pleasant way. I'm sparing you that indignity. AG: 8esides, it's not like you're some loser who doesn't know how to make tough decisions.

And I really don't know what to make of this.

Something obviously happened between Vriska and Tavros - something we keep alluding to, which may or may not have involved her Quest Bed. She can't put herself to sleep, I guess - so did she want Tavros to knock her out? Drug her with Sopor Slime?

Maybe the incident happened after she fell asleep, and started ascending the God Tiers. Perhaps her sleeping body was vulnerable, and Tavros failed to protect it - or maybe he followed her inside the god tier dream, and something went horribly wrong.

[wuxiaphoenix]

Thoughts of an Isegye’d Historian: A Cunning Plan

Jason Finn

Step one, success! We’re still alive!

Step two....

Okay, step two is to figure out what step two is. I can think of a bunch of things we need to do from here.

Start with, we need to stay alive. For that Mary and I need a safe place to stay, food, water, spending cash, and enough helpful friends, allies, and general area knowledge to keep us from blundering into known hazards. You know; dust storms, pirates, monsters, lawsuits....

Sticking with the Callers and Lee Cheong seems like the best course of action for now. As long as we help with anything we can, they’re willing to put us up and get us started on local language and customs. Plus sticking with them also means sticking with Chae and her library, and that just seems like a really good idea. No, not just because we both want new stuff to read.

(Well, yes, I do, but not the point.)

But Chae’s a foreign cultivator, known for grabbing odd bits of lore from everywhere. If we start spreading wild ideas like democracy and rights to life, liberty, and property, we could end up in very hot water, very quickly. But if a Heavenly cultivator mentions thoughts on philosophy based on little-known passages of Confucian texts....

I’ll have to think about that one. Try out some arguments on Chae, see what she thinks. I do not know how dangerous this might be. Chae can tell us if we need to start small and cautious, or if we’ll need to spend years getting people to know us before we even do that much.

Speaking of starting. If I don’t want us to starve, the best way to do that is make it so no one starves. Tricky.

Okay, think. There’s more than one way to attack this. More and alternate crops are the obvious way. I should mention things like baby freshwater crabs in rice paddies, ducks herded in to glean them after harvest-

Oh. Hive boxes. More accessible honey, less stress on the bees; honey is food and medicine. I don’t remember how large the bee gap between frames has to be, but it’s about as thick as one bee and you can find it by carefully moving the frames. Too close together, they’ll make one mass of comb. Too far apart, they’ll build extra cells in the space. People will have to experiment.

Back to crops. Better fertilizers - do they have guano sources? Better nutrition from the food itself; they’ve got corn, do they know they have to lime it to get more nutrients? Ways to kill pests and weeds - oh my Lord, locust swarms. I know those hit in the Little Ice Age. Is there any way cultivators can stop them dead?

And that leads into, one way to stretch available food is to make sure you lose as little of the harvest as possible. Cultivators manipulate heat and cold. Can we make cold boxes to keep food fresh? Can we, oh, heat-treat the rice meant just for eating, so it doesn’t get moths? How do we handle mold? Is there anything we can do for farmers that’ll make bringing in crops easier and faster?

If I recall right, one of the main labor and time bottlenecks was getting grain out of the field just when it was ripe. Make that faster, and the effects will ripple out a lot. I need a harvester.

...I have no idea how to make a harvester. Outside of, pulling it moves the blade automatically-?

Maybe I don’t need to know. If I can describe what it does, maybe someone else can figure out how to build it.

...While we’re all trying to figure out how far the Grendel curse spread, and how much cure we can come up with to stop it. And we need to look for other survivors of JL93. And see if - knock on wood - maybe there’s some way home....

Well. One step at a time.

[novankenn]

Unbreakable Machine Arcs (5)

Ozpin nodded a greeting to Doctor Peach as she exited the examination room, which she had spent that last two hours in with Jaune and Joan. She looked tired and perplexed… which Ozpin knew was not a good combination. It had been a struggle to get the pair of blonds to agree to the examinations, but the pair relented when Ozpin and in fact everyone in the room agreed to assist the pair in locating Nora.

Glynda did inform Ozpin that there was indeed an applicant with that name, so Ozpin was rather confident that the Nora the pair were searching for was one Nora Valkyrie. Though the nature and reason for the search was never given, but that didn’t matter as Ozpin had achieved the desired result of placating the pair, and getting them medical assistance.

“Doctor, how are our guests?”

“Abnormal.” Peach then dragged her hand down her face before sighing. “I don’t think they are human.”

“Excuse me?” Ozpin looked at Peach over the top of his glasses. “Did you say that you THINK they’re not human?”

“I did.”

“Care to explain?”

“I can’t, or I should say not in any concrete way. I can tell you they are healthy, and if I didn’t know they had been out in the wilds, I would have thought you picked them up during a walk in the park.”

“How is that possible?” Ozpin placed both his hands on top of his cane. “We can almost guarantee they must have been out there for at least a week, considering the state of their clothes.”

“It’s because they are dense. I mean, their bones, and muscles are insanely packed. They weight three times what someone their size should weigh… they are dense, and not naturally.”

“I see. So?”

“I’ve read about this, but I have never before seen one, but I think we have a pair of Machine Dolls,” Peach sucked on her bottom lip for a moment while looking about to make sure no one else was in ear shot. “And considering, they have working circulatory and respiratory systems…”

“Banned Dolls.”

“So you know.”

“I like you have read about the practice and existence of such… creations but have never seen one.”

“I find this very disturbing. I must tell you that, and you know why.”

“I do.”

“Which begs the question of what are we going to do?”

“We will help them locate Nora, and then we will ask some rather pointed questions.”

“Oz, don’t push this away. Someone, or more likely two individuals, died to create Jaune and Joan. This is serious.”

“I am very aware of that fact, though I doubt the Nora they are looking for is that person.” Ozpin pressed his lips together for a minute as he thought about the situation. “No, I am sure that there is someone else involved. Someone skilled in an art that should have died out, decades ago.”

“So what now? They are in perfect health, and I have no ethical reason to hold them.”

“Ethical?”

“They are alive, sentient, and self-aware. That gives them rights. Rights I can not without medical need interfere with.”

“I understand.” Ozpin stood quietly for a few minutes before continuing. “I will take charge of them.”

“And do what?”

“Give them a guided tour of the grounds… and maybe glean some information in the process.”

/==/

“Jaune they know.” Joan whispered to her twin from her position next to the partially open door. “They know what we are. What are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? But Nora. Father.”

“We are going to do nothing, unless we are forced to.” Jaune replied as he stood up from the examination table he was sitting on. “We will fight only if we need to.”

“I don’t like that they know.” Joan looked at her twin brother, a frown creasing her features. “Father told us to always be careful. To keep what we are hidden…”

“I don’t like it either, so stay alert. We’re here for Nora and Ren… nothing else.”

/== Table of Contents ==/

[serenpedac]

Tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by some very lovely people who are also amazing writers to share a snippet. Thank you @evilbunnyking, @agentnatesewell and @ejunkiet <3

This is a lot longer than a tidbit, so no obligation to read! It’s from my Antique Shop AU where Yael and Nate go from friends to lovers after their initial, steamy meeting. No Book 3 spoilers!

*** *** ***

“Won’t you please, please come with us?” Farah’s eyes turn wide and pleading. “I’m gonna die of boredom if you’re not coming.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad. Won’t Adam and Nate be there as well?”

Farah makes a face. “Like I said, die of boredom.”

To be fair, the assignment did seem less than exciting from what little Yael had gleaned. Some sort of ceremony to show the continued collaboration between the Agency and one of the supernatural communities. It was more of a formality than anything else, Nate had explained, a fond smile on his face. She’d thought it might be one of the things that had become something of a tradition during his long life. Which did explain why Farah would be practically begging her to come along.

“I would love to save you, but I have a ton of required reading and there are some supplies I need to pick up from the city. And I really should be preparing for the workshop on Monday.” She gestures at the paper and study books strewn across the kitchen table and Farah purses her lips.

“I can pick things up for you, okay? And can’t you study Nate or something? He’s antique, right?”

A burst of laughter escapes Yael, one she is quick to smother when Nate enters the kitchen right that moment. Not that he would have noticed, focused as he is on his phone. His brow is furrowed as he taps the screen with his index finger, a quick motion like he might get burned if he touched it for too long.

“Am I even allowed to attend?” 

Nate looks up from the screen. “Are you coming with us?” His frown smooths out, a smile lighting up his face. “I don’t see the problem. You have sufficient clearance, and it would give you a better understanding of how the Agency has been working with supernatural communities throughout the years.”

“See?” Farah whispers loud enough for Nate to hear even if he didn’t have vampire senses. “You have to save me from this.”

“You promise to pick up my order tomorrow?” 

Farah’s earrings dangle wild as she nods. “Promise.”

Yael turns to Nate, a plan beginning to form in her mind. “What do you know about marquetry, specifically Boulle?”

“Tarsia a incastro, you mean? Let me see, it’s a marquetry technique that developed in the seventeenth century, with André Charles Boulle among its most famous practitioners. He is well-known for using materials like---”

“---copper and tortoise shell,” Yael finishes his sentence. “I love you, you know that?”

“Ooh, no.” Farah dashes to stand in between Yael and Nate. “No, no, no. I’m the one who promised to travel all the way to the city for you, not him. You’re supposed to be talking with me.”

“You are more than welcome to add your thoughts on the topic.” Nate’s efforts to school his face into a serious expression are negated by the amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glances at Yael. It’s quite adorable.

She lifts her hand to--- To do what? To trace the curve of his lips? She blinks at the thought, pressing her hands against her thighs to keep them there and redirecting her attention to Farah, whose look of betrayal has turned into something Yael can’t quite read as those golden eyes dart between her and Nate.

*** *** ***

Tagging, though no pressure: @wayhavenots, @serial-chillr, @lykegenia and anyone who wants to share!

[creativeafterdark]

Chapter 9 and 10

Heyo folks taking a @journeythroughjourneytothewest

Had to take a break from book club last week, burn out was very bad. But I've had a week to relax, celebrated my birthday and slept most of the day lol. Let's get back into Journey to the West

First: Chapter 9.

We finally meet our Monk and learn the story of his family!

We don't spend a lot of time learning about them (minus his Dad, gets a thumbs up from me. Kind to all and easy going enough to be like "I got hit by a ball-- oh I'm married now? Okay cool". Like talk about a shotgun wedding), but we do see little bits that remind me of our Monk. He does share his kindness with his Dad, and I genuinely think his anxiety is from his mom. I'll talk about her in a minute because she is a whole other thing.

My one question is... wouldn't other officials notice that Liu Hong, essentially becoming Chen E, had no idea what he was doing??? He went on business trips, did no one recognize he wasn't who he said he was????? I mean you would think anyone who took the exams with him who got positions would be like "uh... that's not him tf??". Or they just did not care. Who knows at this point. Apparently he had Six Eared Macaque level disguise skill, rolled a nat 20 in bullshitery.

Now. Lady Yin. The poor lady went through hell for over 18 years. She had to watch her husband get murdered, had to abandon her baby, and had to play wife to a murderer. Even when her husband came back... I'm not surprised she still ended up passing. That's a lot of guilt (and I'm sure Liu Hong was not kind to her) on her mind for a LONG period of time, nearly two decades. I wish there was a happy ending for the family but I get why it ended how it did, knowing what depression and anxiety can do to people.

Now our baby Monk. Our Xuanzang. I am so proud of him for being as brave as he was. This recently turned 18 year old did everything he could to help his family. Licking his grandma's eyeballs was...a choice. But it was for a good cause so good on him. I can see why he was a good choice as the Scroll Pilgrim.

And as promised, a sketch of Xuanzang

And as a bonus baby Monk with a doggo

But now we move to Chapter 10.

...I legit got annoyed going thru the debate between the fisherman and woodman. Like it went on far longer than it should have. I'm sure there was a profound moment that we're supposed to glean from it but I just wasn't receptive to it. Maybe I'll read it again.

Anyway.

I have been doing some looking into of Chinese historical heroes (I desperately want to read Romance of the three kingdoms, and I need more reading material about folk heroes and heroines) so seeing some references to the stuff I learned made me happy. There was mention of Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang and the painting of The Emporer's Generals on the doors (supposedly the Tang dynasty is where this practice was first used. A few three kingdom folks also get this treatment as door gods, or menshen, along with other important heroes and deities. Makes me wonder if the Emperor essentially deified his Generals and Wei Zheng. How does Heaven handle that?)

Fun fact! In my jttw x mythology story Wukong will work with Asena, mythical wolf mother of the Ashina Clan of Gokturks. Guess which dynasty of China had to deal with them a lot? :)

Anyway.

I've also come to the conclusion that Dragons just like to fuck around and find out. Like, the Dragon King just goes against heaven's orders to spite a very accurate fortune teller, does not even THINK of the consequences, and is surprised Pikachu face when he gets in trouble. Also not sure why he thought appealing to an earthly emporer would save him from THE SUPREME DAOIST DEITY'S JUDGMENT. Like, y'all, I'm beginning to think dragons just don't give a crap or just don't think. Got what he deserved for being dumb. Did the emporer make promises he shouldn't have? No doubt, you don't promise supernatural beings anything because it will make you want to die if they catch wind of you breaking promises, regardless of nationality. Did he deserve what he got? .... I mean historically probably but in the sense of this story, no.

I find the Tang dynasty interesting (because it gave us a certain Empress and had some fun female warriors, like Taizong's sister, who helped her father found the dynasty) and I can definitely thank jttw for getting my attention about it.

I think that's all I have as far as thoughts. And I apologize if my rambles just jumped around too much lol.

Over and out ✌️

[arcplaysgames]

Yeah, what's with the formality, Lavenza, remember when I took you to a maid cafe and then defended you from the feral maid that wanted to eat you? We're pals now.

Congratulations to Lavenza for the greatest line read since Mitsuru's "I'M GOING TO EXECUTE YOU ALL." I fucking cackled.

Okay so. I'm flipping through these screencaps again in hopes of collating all the info and summarizing. Hang on.

Mementos is back. Why? Because don't worry about it. (The game basically shrugs on this one, lmao.)

Maruki has a persona and it is able to affect real people, not just cognitions. The power is called Actualization, and is basically him taking someone's desires and making them real by altering cognition.

It should be impossible for an individual to use their power like this on a massive scale, but the death of Yarblegarble left a power vacuum in Mementos, and Maruki slotted himself into place there. So he has godlike powers in the same way Yahtzee did.

Akechi points out that the Thieves had the masses' attention and worship, that's how they defeated Cuphead, so why did that influence shift to Maruki? Turns out Maruki has been consciously or not shifting the cognition of the Thieves through his therapizing, so subconsciously everyone wanted the easy out that Maruki was supplying. yeah sure whatever, that's not more of an ass pull than the Mementos thing

All this only became possible when the Cognitive World and the Real World merged in the finale. Now, the worlds are trying to separate, but Maruki is interferring. They need to finish separating, or the Cognitive World will supplant the Real World and there will be no escape from Maruki's control. We got about a month before things are set in stone.

Okay summing that up actually helped me grok wtf is going on, awesome.

Anyway, back into the Palace, and Sumire gets another persona awakening on top of her original one.

I mean good for her?

I'm really torn on Sumire. Like, as a plot catalyst she's fantastic. But she's been the weakest of the cast for the entire game and I still struggle to care about her outside how crunchy her situation is.

BIG SHRUG.

Blah blah, seems like Maruki has a bunch of data trunk lines running to Mementos, so we gotta go see wtf is up in there.

also i got to see Ann's bedroom/flat and oh my god that's so many clothes that's my nightmare. I mean its super cute but wow.

Good to know she's a Derse dreamer tho.

Her new persona pops and oh my god this is the most scene kid thing I have ever seen, WOW. the mismatched tights, the bubblegum, the double belt. I can hear Paramore playing when I look at this.

Also Lavenza visits Reverie and falls asleep TWICE in one visit. This girl needs a fucking nap, wow.

Anyway, plot. Mementos has a bunch of Maruki's data cables running through it. I do love the shift from fantastical science to the cold reality of surveillance in Maruki's methods.

BASICALLY its complicated, but Maruki is watching over Mementos. To give everyone the perfect life they want, he catches people in Mementos and changes their cognition from there. Without the surveillance, he wouldn't know who to help and how.

So I guess his perfect dream of just fixing the world is more complex than he thought. Sure, he has all of human cognition on tap here, but he still has to handle each case individually with the info he gleans from Mementos. There's still many people who don't have their happy psience yet and that is going to take time to fix.

I do appreciate a lack of subtlety. I hope the intention with Maruki is to inspire some discomfort and reflection in players as they contend with his motives and methods, but also, gamers can be dumb so yes, please just insert a room that looks like it'd fit in The Stanley Parable into this whole narrative to make sure people understand this whole thing is fucked.

Akechi as the repeated voice of "yo this shit sucks" is a lot of fun. When the guy who murdered a bunch of people for his evil dad is calling out your bullshit, that's worth paying attention to.

That said, this random NPC actually says the thesis of this entire story right here. It is here for those who are looking for it.

[sneezemonster15]

I saw recently someone post a screenshot of a woman's video that read "my husband came out as gay after 20 years of together" and the screenshot poster said it's extremely cruel to waste 20 years of someone's life and pretend to be in love with them when they could find someone who actually loves them, "if you're gay and in the closet then just be single, you don't have the right to ruin someone else's life" tbh I don't know what to think, I mean I don't feel bad for Sakura and Hinata because they are selfish assholes, but about real people… I would genuinely think I had wasted my life too if my spouse suddenly told me they were never in love with me, and forever have trust issues. But I feel bad for gay men too. Or are women who end up with gay men a specific, gullible type

Except that in conservative societies where heteronormativity is institutionalised and homosexuality is criminalized, the conditions for straight women and gay men aren't the same. Closeted gay men are closeted for many reasons. Institutional punishment, ostracization, disenfranchisement. That cannot be compared with a straight woman whose feelings got hurt. I am not invalidating her feelings, but it's like comparing apples and oranges. It is unfortunate that she lived with a person who basically lied to her for 20 years but it's different from a man who has been living a lie his entire life. It's a kind of violence one can't imagine unless one has gone through something similar. Denying your identity is like denying your existence. Besides, Hinata and Sakura aren't unaware. Sakura for sure knows the nature of Sasuke and Naruto's relationship, and to a large extent, I think Hinata does too. But it suits them to ignore it as long as they are getting what they want. At least in their case, they don't come off as the hurt party. They are the ones who are benefiting from it, having trophy husbands, which is what they always wanted. If they really wanted to do something about it, they would have.

Also, I think most people talk at each other. Not with. If you really pay attention to the other person, what they say, how they say it, if you pay attention to their body language, you can tell a lot about a person. Or get some solid ideas to follow through at the least. A better part of communication is non verbal. It's very useful too. There's a lot of information to be gleaned and used later. It would be pointless to expect that Hinata and Sakura would know to do all that. Otherwise they would have been better shinobis too lol.

It's not that easy to stay in the closet and remain unattached, I know that in many countries, in joint families, no matter what, you gotta get married when the elders say so. You can't come out and you can't say no. There are other obligations too, people's lives are complex. I don't think a gay man would feel so compelled to get married to a straight woman if he had the freedom to choose and express his sexuality without stigma or prejudice.

Also love does not always have to be sexual. There have been many gay men in the past who married women, sired kids even, and yet, respected their wives, mothers of their kids. Of course, in their case, the wife knew the truth. Thomas Savage, for example. Like I said, people's lives are complex. It's not that black and white. There can be love between a gay man and a straight woman without it having to be sexual. There can be mutual love and respect, if they are both open with each other. If they aren't, they should look at the reasons why rather than playing blame games. If separation is the answer, then so be it.

[kyndaris]

Backlog Catch-Up

With all the new releases coming out in 2023, I am reminded once again of the limited time I have as someone that must work for a living. Coupled with the fact that I’m out socialising more and exploring the world when I use my leave, what little free time I have must be used in the most efficient way possible spread out thinly across video games, writing, reading and keeping up with shows and movies.

As of the writing of this post, I’m in the fourth chapter of Tactics Ogre Reborn, mopping up most of the side quests and unlocking new characters and classes before the final battle. But the temptation is there to put Tactics Ogre Reborn down and play through The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom instead since it’s new and shiny and everyone who is anyone is hyped for the new Zelda entry.

I even saw someone play on the commute to work!

While that something most gamers will do, hopping from one game to another, I’ve always found that the best way for me to tackle the glut of video games that catch my eye is to finish them off one by one before moving on. Otherwise, I’d have far too many incomplete games and not enough storage space on my consoles for anything more. A terrible dilemma given the size of games nowadays.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as everyone else is raving about the latest games that they’ve got their hands on.

Of course, even if I were to finish the game I was currently playing at the time, it doesn’t always mean I’ll play the latest and greatest title. The game I start could be part of my backlog or a fairly new and flashy game. And though it shouldn’t matter if that title is the one in the current zeitgeist or if it was something that came out years ago, I know in my heart of hearts, I should only be playing what’s new. If only to keep up with the discourse.

Still, the FOMO that I feel is a reminder that I can still engage in the content, though I may not have the entire experience. After all, I’m not one that shies away from a few spoilers. In fact, I relish them. 

But I’ve found that when it comes to my gaming habits, and even on dates when I chat to others, it’s always been a struggle for me to be open about my favourite games. While some hyperfixate on a title, I tend to enjoy the stories for what they are without diving too deep. Some of that could be from the fact that I’ve managed to glean all that I can from unofficial wikis. Other times, I’ve simply not felt the need to obsess over every small detail in the game.

Still, I have to wonder if some of that comes from my childhood. Growing up, there weren’t many people around me that played video games. Even if they did, they were older than me and didn’t want to entertain the curious preteen. In high school, there was still the perception that games were played by boys and what was a nice girl like me doing spending so much time in front of the computer screen?

Even now, I don’t talk about games with my work friends or those that don’t really play anything more than cosy games like Animal Crossing. Sure, I now know of people that play the big releases and that’s something we can talk about briefly but those titles serve as conversation starters. Water cooler conversations, if you will, because neither of us know how far the other has gotten and don’t want to ruin the experience.

If I wanted a hot take about a game, I turn to the internet. One glance at YouTube and you can see why. I couldn’t tell you the number of videos I’ve seen reviewing game titles, assessing games and what they bring to each individual or just having an opinion about something controversial. You name, there’s a podcast. And if you engage with those creators, form a parasocial relationship, you’ve essentially found ‘your people.’

So, maybe it’s fine for me to take my time instead of racing through. Even though popular discourse seems to favour remaining relevant when posting reviews or impressions on the internet. Something that I’ve done with my games.

The same, however, cannot be said of books. Perhaps because I’m not on BookTok or on BookTube. Even if I were, there’s no real rush to be on top of the latest releases unless it’s YA. And given my favourite genre and my minimum page count being 500 pages or more, I’ve never felt compelled to quickly finish a book just to get to a new one. In fact, the more time I can spend with a book, the better. The atmosphere, the worldbuilding, the characters...these are all important aspects to me and there have been times when a book reaches the end that I wish the author had simply written more about their characters.

I very much like exploring someone else’s head and seeing their interactions in the quiet moments.

That’s probably why I insert so much of it in my own writing. I like to get to know a person inside and out.

Beyond the occasional YA novels, though, you won’t find whole wikis filled with the history of characters or their backstory. Books are a completely different medium and their fans interact differently with the source material. While yes, you will get the occasional fan art, it’s only recently that I’ve seen Rhysand and Feyre fan art being sold at conventions. I might have shuddered, but given that there’s no movie or TV show of Sarah J Maas’s work, it’s very impressive that there is actual fan art that exists for a wholly book series.

Books, more than games, have always been something I’ve been passionate about. And while there are books that I will put down something else to read if the chance arose, I don’t feel the immediate FOMO that one might have if a new game comes out. Yes, there’s hype but I never feel like I’m missing out on the conversation.

Maybe, of course, there’s the fact that reading is a much more passive experience than gaming. True, tehre are people out there that will immediately buy a book as soon as it releases and finish it within a day but even with BookTok and BookTube becoming increasingly prevalent, public discourse doesn’t have such a huge emphasis on new book releases. At least, not on the scale of video games or films/ TV shows. For example, Sarah J Maas became increasingly popular with the advent of TikTok but back when I was still reading the first few books of the Throne of Glass series back in 2015, there was no-one I knew within my immediate circle that had read the books.It’s only been in recent years that I’ve seen people fall in love with the world of A Court of Thorns and Roses and jump on the fae bandwagon.

And don’t get me started on Robin Hobb!

Too bad, of course, that no-one has truly been trying to promote the intricate worlds of M.A. Carrick in the Rook and the Rose series. Or have started reading the Black Magician trilogy by Australian author, Trudi Canavan. Honestly, those worlds have been some of the BEST I’ve ventured into.

Then again, much like games, I don’t talk about books very much to my friends. Mostly because it’s hard to find someone that has read the same type of genre that I do. Even if we DO read the same genre, we may not have read the same books. Have you SEEN how many books are churned out each year? Something, of course, I want for myself but I’m sure if I am ever published, I’ll just be one of the dime a dozen authors that disappear once more into the woodwork. It takes talent and grit and a fair bit of luck to become the next Sanderson or Rowling or Martin.

Still, now that I’ve joined a book club at work, I’ve been able to talk about books freely with people that have, at the very least, read the same book that I have for the month. No longer do I have to spy on people on the train and muster up the courage to chat to them about the latest Stormlight Archive book that they’re reading (which I’ve finished) and nerd out over Kaladin and lashings and the Cosmere.

And while the genres may not always be the ones that I enjoy the most, I do like discussing the book of the month with those in the office. There’s something special about going into deep dives about the book we’ve all just read as we go on about themes or elements that particularly stood out. 

Even if I secretly hope to steer them towards the more magical side of fantasy given enough time. 

But that’s a thought! We have book clubs. Why not game clubs? I know that video games are social mediums by their very nature, but I’d like a proper sit-down and in-depth chat about a game’s story with my fellow gamers as we talk about things that we liked or didn’t like, the mechanics that worked and didn’t work and how the ambiance fed into the game world to make it the unique experience it was for each person.

I don’t want someone to talk at me about a game. I get enough of that on the internet as people try to extol the virtues of whichever game has become their whole personality, nor do I want to have to sit through a one-sided discussion during a date. Given that games are a valid medium of art, we can start treating them as such.

But maybe instead of viewing games and books and whatever else that’s inbetween, I should simply just enjoy what I have for the time being and worry less about trying to keep up with whatever is popular. I’m not, after all, a gaming journalist. There’s no money to be made in my blogs. I write about what I like, I read what I like, and I play whatever takes my fancy. Games come and go. And since I’ve purchased them and they’re sitting pretty on my shelf, it’s all just now a simple matter of picking them up, dusting them off and slipping the disc into the console. 

Speaking of which, I need to ALSO finish of Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky SC and the third title before tackling the Crossbell arc of games. Eugh! 

So much to do, so little time!

[talesofourworlds]

@forgottenluck The wheel of fate chose... Eizen for your starter!

He had to be some kind of desperate to be looking for aid of this sort.

Well, quite frankly, Eizen was just that. The Reaper's Curse was a heavy burden to bear and had led to him hurting the one person he had sworn to protect. That same person now lived alone on the mountain home Eizen had made for the pair of them, and he scoured the land far and wide for ways to rid himself of his 'blessing.' So there he was, walking the unfamiliar path toward what he could only hope was some sort of salvation.

Truth be told, he wasn't even sure if this lead he'd found would work out like he hoped. Eizen only knew bits and pieces of this legend of sorts. Some sort of good fortune based god, that was said to hold dominion over a village. At least, that was what Eizen had gleaned from a book he'd found. To him, it sounded like maybe it was something akin to a malakhim. Or if it wasn't, a very powerful entity. Whether this being really could eliminate a pre-existing blessing of bad luck was up in the air. He just had to hope that, contrary to everything he'd known ever since figuring out what was causing bad things to happen to himself and his sister, he had a little bit of luck on his side.

As Eizen walked, he took note of the surrounding area. For a place that was supposed to house a village, it seemed rather quiet. Perhaps that was because the good luck entity kept away daemons, Eizen reasoned. It was either that, or the area was so sequestered that nothing could come to bring harm.

...Or perhaps there was no one left to fear for that sort of fate.

The farther Eizen walked, the more apparent it became that the village had suffered some sort of ill fate. There wasn't a soul present. Houses that once must have belonged to humans were empty and dilapidated. The village might as well have been completely forgotten by time.

Was he too late? Did the good luck entity even live here anymore? Eizen couldn't even blame this on his Reaper's Curse. Not really. Still, he'd come this far. If the luck god he'd read about did live there still, surely it couldn't hurt to try and find him. So he walked further, unmistakable blue eyes scanning everything in the immediate area as he moved, but he saw nothing that would prove who he sought even lingered there.

The blond malak couldn't stop himself from sinking to his knees. He should have been used to this despair by then, Eizen told himself. There couldn't be a cure all for the Reaper's Curse. Still, against his better judgment Eizen had gotten his hopes up. And for what?

"Damnit..." A shaky breath was drawn in. How was he supposed to go back to Edna like this? The curse still lingered. He'd only hurt her. All that was left was to just turn and leave. And yet...

One last desperate thought nagged at him. Just because he couldn't see this being didn't mean he wasn't there, right? What could it hurt?

"...I came all this way seeking the favor of fortune," Eizen said, trying to sound as determined as he could. "If you yet cling to these lands, answer. I don't know where else to go."

I need help.

[talenlee]

What Do I Think of You?

What Do I Think of You?

Serious question.

I’ve been writing for you for a few years now. Who do I think about when I’m writing a post? And what does it mean to write ‘for you,’ for that matter? There’s clearly some personality, some identity I can conceive of as belonging to you, and I know there are things I think of when I’m writing an article.

What is there, then? What do I do when I think of you?

Let’s talk about it.

First up, just putting ideas out there on the page, not thinking about structuring this clearly. I try to make sure I explain things as if you don’t know the things I’m talking about. I like describing things so that if you don’t know what they are, you can get a useful idea for what I mean, but if you do already know what I mean, it’s going to be funny to you. I want to be helpful explaining things, I don’t want to give false information, so I have to assume you want that information and that you trust me. I figure you don’t click a lot of links if I send you places.

I know I don’t trust that you care that much about what I’m talking about. I know I feel like I have to make a big meaningful point if I’m going to hold your attention for more than a thousand words. A thousand words, about six minutes of reading? That’s, I think, a meaningful amount of your attention. I feel like a thousand words isn’t wasting your time by making you click on something that should be a tweet.

I think that you kind of care about world building stuff – specifically, I think that Tab likes the world building stuff, and they talk about that, which is 100% enough of a reason to keep doing it. That world-setting stuff, I can use that later, it connects to conversations with Fox. Writing about D&D, I think you care about the game and the lessons we can glean from that game when you want to make your own games, like tabletop games or just running games on the spot? But I don’t expect you’d come to me for political insight into how D&D gets made.

I think most of you don’t care about Magic: The Gathering but a few of you do, and the few that do care a lot. I know I think of you as someone who cares about making games, but I don’t know if I’m giving you helpful information about how to make a game.

And that’s just a brain dump of traits about you. I think I know what you want, but I don’t know how good a job I do serving that want. And I think some of the things I want to write about, you don’t necessarily want to read, but you’ll give me some patience with those things.

I think you’re probably a little bit younger than me. Maybe a little older, for a few of you, but mostly, I’m an elder millenial offering you guidance on things as I progress, day by day, through this journey and try to reassure you with wisdom I’ve accumulated. I think that you probably think of me as reasonably mentally together and coping with my life, and part of that is I think I don’t often share or vent my mental problems on the internet in places. Part of trying to be sincere about that, though, means I also don’t tend to vent that stuff anywhere, and I try to work through it by writing.

I hope you like my fiction.

I’m afraid you don’t like my fiction.

You’ve told me you like my fiction.

I don’t understand that.

This is a process of reflection that I think it’s worth doing. I normally do this stuff in private, maybe taking notes and aggregating information in my notebooks. I selfconsciously inspect the information my blog tracking software gives me too, which is, also, crucially, trying to be as unintrusive as possible. This reflection involves thinking about the experience of writing, but also, thinking about what I notice about myself when I go back and reread my work.

It involves a degree of introspection, which can be very awkward for me. You have to have the feelings (amazing, who feels things), then you have to consider what those feelings mean. Try to interrogate them into specifics, find things you can do or can’t do that satisfy or irritate them. I really want to get prototypes out faster, but right now the demands I’m under for my time make that unlikely to impossible. And when I say that, I know what I think I mean is that time spent on those prototypes is time when my mind tends to slide off them.

What I want you to be able to use from this, though, is the fundamental idea of thinking about who you are making things for. What kind of language do you want to use, who do you want to talk to? And what kind of way is best to talk to them?

For example, one of my friends has some pretty severe ADHD and that means these long articles are not easy for them to read. I care a lot about them, and that means that when I do start on a subject I think they’d like (often stuff that relates to game designs, superheroes, videogames with cool ideas), I want to make that approachable for them. That means that those articles tend to be more readily made into videos or audio recordings, because it’s easy for me to imagine that it’d be easier for that friend to enjoy the work.

On the other hand, I know that for say, lists of instructions, videos and audio feel bad to me. When I want to go get a set of instructions for how to do something, or a reference document, I want that in text, and since that’s how I want to do things, I want to present those ideas in that way. That’s another part of it, though! I am part of my audience. I don’t want my work to be presented in ways I wouldn’t want to consume it, and I think that’s reasonable.

This is a lesson, I hope: Remember that you are part of your audience, and you should be trying to make things that satisfy you.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Meta

[humanoidtyphoons]

i’m prolly gonna compile some posts for the kirsi/norrix agenda (help i played myself) but rereading 

- kirsi drinks for fun, norrix drinks to forget

- kirsi meeting lucia for the first time and thinking i’ve got to get her some new clothes vs. kirsi meeting norrix, a scruffy looking sleep deprived man and being like it’s my personal mission to make sure this cute guy that shows promise gets a decent night sleep. (maybe in order to get lucia attracted to norrix, and then oh no, this matchmaker played herself)

- also, light pastel colours (kirsi)/darker blue/purple/black (norrix) is such a neat looking combo, you just know that kirsi is that kind of person to be matching couple clothes, and make sure that they’ve got complimentary outfits, whereas norrix is subtler with his detail orientated and creates matching trinkets that they can wear together as y’know, just couple things.

- kirsi finding it difficult to talk to reimond, but maybe... maybe talking about things with norrix is easier? why? bc at least they have lucia in common. also i wonder if like with norrix, kirsi’s sass might come out more, and they discover they’ve got a similar level of sarcasm.

- tbh, i still feel like the kind of people to not think much of each other from the get go, but then as they get to know each other, are surprised by the depth that both display. he thinks she’s a pretty shallow and spoilt girl with everything handed to her on a platter, she thinks he’s too stuffy and interested in magic to notice what’s right in front of him.

- i want to know if kirsi will do anything now that she’s learnt that norrix has a troubled past. like with lucia, i think kirsi will leave it alone, waiting for norrix to tell her, if ever, on his own terms, and she will have to wait for that. but i wonder if knowing that will make her pay more attention to him and consider him slightly differently, wondering, gleaning hints from whatever reimund and norrix imply.

- norrix loves stargazing and star reading. kirsi being the type of person who is like oh i read about my horoscope today! and them being snarky about that they’re reading the stars wrong. (idc this is prolly anachronistic, the thought makes me laugh)

- both norrix and kirsi being slow on horses. kirsi bc she’s not a horse whisperer and doesn’t understand how to properly ride a horse. norrix being slow bc he’s brought a book and would prefer to read instead of ride.

- kirsi’s attitude to norrix/magic slowly changing over the course of the two seasons? initially she’s kinda dismissive, magic is spectacle, fine, sure, but not for her, but then i do think she engages with norrix slightly differently over time, taking it more seriously, worriedly asking norrix if he can do anything to help lucia while lucia’s bedroom is burning down.

- norrix gave his compliment to kirsi???? (it made him not have one for lucia, but!!!) it’s v. cute that kirsi is flattered by it, but teasingly says, you should save your compliments for someone else. (meaning lucia) and then see? i told you! (when norrix is at a loss of words) i want to see kirsi’s playful side come out some more!!

- norrix being (so far) the sole person to not express disappointment in kirsi. damn, reimund and lucia are already pretty vocally upset with her, (justifiably so tbh) ricon’s implied that she’s not special. (manipulation tactic)

- i think there’s something about the low self esteem both norrix and kirsi have for themselves, but they hide it differently. kirsi’s better at smiling and being upbeat, whereas norrix acts like an absolute mess, but both are more fragile than they want other people to believe tbqh.

[la-principessa-nuova]

So even though music has been a big part of my life for a long time, I mostly engaged through making music, and very rarely actively listened to music to the level where I’m fully feeling and understanding some meaning from the song.

I recently found a way to actually do that and in doing so realized why I haven’t really engaged like that before.

It all comes down to ADHD and not being able to fully focus on something I’m not heavily, intrinsically motivated to do. So when my sister says, “Listen to this song, it’s so cool. Really listen to the lyrics,” as much as I really want to do it, I end up only engaged on the surface level, mostly paying attention to paying attention and trying to remember what the last line was to try to make sense of the current lyric and missing out on the big picture as I try to piece it together piece by piece.

It’s similar to when I’m not in the right mindset to read and I try to force myself to, and I’m subvocalizing all the words, but it takes several tries to read a sentence and glean meaning. But on extra hard mode because it’s often heavily metaphorical sometimes with some extra interpretation needed, and if I don’t have the lyrics in front of me I have to process this as audio, which I have a little trouble with. And as a musician I’m also noticing things in the instruments that I might be distracted by.

But lately I’ve gotten into making playlists (which I don’t think I can share without it having my deadname and last name attached to it on Apple Music, but I’m not 100% sure). It started with one I called “The Airl Stinger Experience”, Aril Stinger being an anagram of “trans girlie”, in case someone I’m not out to looks over my shoulder and sees the title.

That playlist goes through the life of a trans girl growing up and realizing she’s trans and facing pressure from parents and stuff like that. Think of it like if I made a jukebox musical about a trans girl’s life. Some of them are superficial picks that covered a section I didn’t have a song for, and some are very deeply meaningful to me in how they convey what they do.

Then I started making playlists about different emotions, meanings, attitudes etc. Like I have one I’m working on now called “Less Like You” with songs that express the idea of feeling pressure (especially from parents) to conform to their idea of what you should be, and with taking the first step to break free from that pressure and be yourself.

And there’s one called “Emptiness” that convey a very detached type of depression, and one called “Women’s Rights” that is exactly what it sounds like. One I’ve really struggled to find the perfect songs for is “Azula Core”.

But my point is that when I’m working on these playlists, I listen to songs, and because I have a mission to decide if the song fits my playlist or not, I am able to sit and listen to the song and really listen and understand and feel the song.

There’s songs I’ve heard a million times before and even tried to think about what they meant but didn’t fully understand that are bringing me to tears and that I am connecting with on a deep, personal level. There are songs I’ve known by heart for so long that I’m realizing describe something in my head right now that I’m currently working through in therapy, and it’s saying it better with rhyming and everything than I could say it in prose.