Catarina wiggle pictures

I lost power to a section of my house. Upon investigating, I found a phone charger plugged into an outlet that would get things going if i wiggled it. Picture is what i found on the back of the receptacle once i opened up the outlet. The wires are charred.
Is this common? caused by phone charger or bad installation of outlet? House is 20yrs old, built by builder mega corp. And finally, do i need to open and check all outlets in the house?

I currently own a pair of Way of Wade All City 12 in a size US10.5 (China 44, EU 44 1/3). I am looking to purchase a pair of 808 3 regular but want as tight a fit as possible while still being comfortable.
My feet measure in at 28 cm. I have regular width feet (not wide, not narrow).
The picture below shows the edge of my big toe in the AC12 toe box (there is enough space for my toes to move/wiggle around).
Line indicates where big toe ends.
Do you think I can half size down to US10 (China 43.5, EU 43 2/3) for my pair of 808 3 or even shoes in general?

Hi, I posted this in a different subreddit but I think this one is the place I should've put it. Sorry about that. Here we go again:
Maybe hate is a bit strong, but I (18) am getting sick and tired of my friend's (19) low prioritization of me. This is pretty long sorry about that, I just don't have anyone to talk to about this. Reddit kinda scares me but I really need some kind of third party advice. I'll keep the context as brief as possible, but I think a little bit of history is necessary to understand why I'm so irked. If you don't want to read it, though, it'll still make sense, so you can skip the next paragraph if you want.
Context: We've been friends since about 13 and have talked about every day for years, even if only for an hour or so. We bonded over our shared creativity of original characters and that's what's been the bulk of our conversation topics through the years, but we also talk about our lives and share events whenever something interesting or significant comes up. We'll also share smaller things like pictures of our pets. Typical stuff. I'm a very studious person, I prioritize schoolwork over friendship, but even when I'm in the midst of finals I've always made an effort to at least say hi in the chat every day, and for a long time we still talked for hours multiple times a week. I was literally doing assignments from 3 PM until 1 AM for a while. Last year, I was completely drowning in schoolwork, and communicated so. For those 4-5 months or so, we didn't talk nearly as often, and that was the first occurrence of us losing daily communication for an extended period of time. Back to how our main conversation topic is our OCs, my friend--who I'll call Avery--started talking more to a friend--who I'll call Casey--that they had for a couple years and made a new OC world to talk about with them, point-blank telling me while we were hanging out that they needed someone to get their OC fix from. That was fine and understandable, basically just another way of saying they needed a friend to talk to more often. At that point school had lessened and we started talking a little more again. Except from that point on, conversation started to fall more and more on me. They no longer thought of "things" about their characters to tell me, which we'd both do frequently before. They no longer had anything interesting about their day to tell me. I had to reach out first a lot of the time, and when it was their turn to say hello they'd take a couple days. And it sucks a little, because they've effectively replaced me. Not even "almost," it's pretty literal.
Now fast forward to this year, it's been about six months and school has been a lot easier. I mean I've had more time to myself than ever before and I actually have weekends again (who knew college would be easier). Avery didn't go to college, but has been helping their grandma out and living with her. Avery and Casey are now dating. Casey is very sweet, I like her, I have nothing against her at all. She's the best girlfriend Avery has had so far and they seem very happy. It's Avery I'm pissed at. I still reach out whenever it's my turn, but I am the one to think of conversation and Avery hasn't thought of a single thing to tell me about their life in the past two months. Casey is very clingy, and seems to message Avery multiple times a day, to which they'll respond and it seems like, from what I can tell, they talk almost every day. We haven't talked about our characters in months, and that singular occurrence that prevents that from being longer was short. Our conversations are often stilted by responses that are hours apart and dry responses that I struggle to continue the convo with. It's fucking tiring. To be honest, I've kinda stopped trying. If they wanted to make time for me, they would, just like I did when I was objectively way busier than they are now. Just last week they went to a convention and got a tattoo, but I didn't hear anything about this until we met up today and they only showed it to me after my mom pointed it out. Their first tattoo was of my art (which was sweet), but I would've thought that getting another would be something notable enough to tell me? They showed me art they've done recently this time meeting up, and pulled it from a recent chat with Casey where they shared it with her. It's pretty clear she's the first one they go to with anything notable enough to talk about now, and I'm left with the "No, I don't really have anything to talk about"s.
The thing that makes this tricky is that I've talked to them about this several times before, and they acknowledged that they've been bad at reaching out, and implied that I'm still their favorite person and they try to prioritize me (which I did not ask, they said on their own). When we meet in person we get along great, but talking online is fucking abysmal now. They are a very flaky person in general, with low general drive to do anything and a low attention span. I think a lot of this is that their girlfriend simply takes up a lot of brain space, and whatever duties they have helping out their grandma takes up a lot of their time. But I'm still pissed off because I've always made an effort to talk to and spend time with them, as much as I can, and I KNOW they have more time than I did then and have more than enough wiggle room in their schedule to make an effort to maintaining a friendship with them. Part of this might be that they take me for granted; we've been friends for a long time, and they probably don't think I'll ever fully leave their life. Maybe they're right, because our moms are friends. But I'm less attached than they probably think I am and I'm willing to drop them. I just don't know if I should really give them up yet, especially because of all the history between us. All I know is if this goes on much longer I'm going to, because now it's summer break and we have all the time in the world. If they can't make an effort now, they never will.

Trouble had a way of finding me from a young age. I often fell in with bad influences, which led to my horrible, and oftentimes reckless, choices. My illegal antics frequently brushed against the law. Countless close calls only fed my misguided sense of invincibility until one night, when my so-called ‘friends’ and I made a huge mistake.
The sky was a bruised purple punctured with a million tiny diamonds as my friends and I, fueled by beer and the lingering buzz of weed, huddled in my neighbors garage, around a single flickering bare bulb after sneaking inside. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of oil and the distant hum of the fridge thrummed like a low heartbeat.
We had squeezed through a gap in the fence, the rough wood scraping against our skin, and settled into a circle in my neighbor’s garage as if we owned the place. My parents were away on a weekend trip, mistakenly assuming I was responsible enough to stay out of trouble.
My friends and I sparked up a fat blunt. The acrid smoke stung my throat as I took a huge drag, feeling like a cartoon dragon exhaling a billowing cloud that hung thick and stagnant in the still air.
Whether it was the smoke or just bad luck, I lost my balance and stumbled back, sending a toolbox crashing to the floor with a deafening clatter. A pool of spilled solvent, previously unnoticed in the dim light, glinted ominously.
The metal tools clanged against it, and a spark erupted – a tiny flicker that ballooned into a monstrous flame in an instant. Panic spread faster than the rapidly growing fire. My friends, their faces in fear, bolted past me, leaving me alone with the growing blaze. My lungs ached for fresh air, a desperate gasp trapped in my smoke-filled chest. With a surge of adrenaline, I ignored the searing heat and threw open the garage door.
There stood Mr. Smith, my neighbor, his furious gaze piercing through the disheveled frame of his bathrobe. Without a word, he grabbed my collar and hurled me onto the damp grass. Then he ran over to a fire extinguisher, his face grim with determination, and desperately attempted to save what remained of his burned-up garage.
Mr. Smith, his face flushed with anger and the smell of singed fabric clinging to his bathrobe, barked into his phone, reporting the fire and our trespass to the police. Sirens wailed in the distance, a growing sound that mirrored the knot of dread tightening in my stomach. The police arrived swiftly. My “friends,” eager to save their own skins, wasted no time pointing accusing fingers in my direction.
From a legal perspective, the situation looked bleak. The authorities, their faces grim under the harsh glare of flashing squad car lights, classified my accidental arson as a criminal offense. The lack of intent mattered little in the face of the evidence – trespassing, the remnants of the blunt, and the smoldering remains of the garage all painted a clear picture. The combination of our bad choices – trespassing, smoking weed, and the resulting fire – left no wiggle room for leniency in the eyes of the law.
The judge, a stern woman, pronounced my fate: four months in juvenile detention. Those months became an enforced period of introspection—a monotonous battle against regret within cold, sterile walls. Oppressive silence—the clang of metal doors and the hollow thud of footsteps echoing my descent replaced the companionship I once craved.
A month before completing my four-month sentence, the court granted me conditional release— under the agreement that I repay the repair costs for Mr. Smith’s garage. Every hard-earned cent I made over the next year went toward that repayment, a constant reminder etched in both money and trust. The weight of my past clung to me like damp clothes, and I trudged forward, one paycheck at a time.
The air hung heavy in the house, thick with disappointment and the unspoken weight of my mistake. Mom sat beside me, a faint tremor in her hands as she scrolled through endless job listings on the flickering computer screen. I knew she was mad, heartbroken even. But beneath the anger, I saw love, a silent plea for me to understand the gravity of my actions. Dad, ever the pragmatist, sat across from us, a deep frown etched on his usually jovial face. Unlike Mom, his silence felt accusatory, a heavy weight that spoke volumes.
The night stretched on, with only the rhythmic clack of the keyboard. After an hour of searching, we finally stumbled across a job listing that seemed promising – “Pizza Delivery Driver Needed.” It wasn’t the glamorous career I once envisioned, but, it was better than nothing. My parents, sensing the shift in the air, exchanged a glance. Relief flashed in Mom’s eyes, while a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Dad’s lips.
Mom, a whiz with words, polished my resume, turning it from a jumbled mess into a presentable document. Dad, with his years of experience interviewing for his own job, drilled me on interview etiquette, his gruff questions a tough but necessary preparation for the real deal. In that moment, their unspoken support spoke louder than any words ever could.
A week later, I stood outside “Luigi’s Loafs,” the name painted in peeling red letters above the door. The air hung thick with the unmistakable aroma of a well-worn pizza joint – a symphony of sharp tomato tang, savory bubbling cheese, and the underlying hum of sizzling pepperoni. Flour-dusted cardboard boxes huddled precariously in a corner, and walls plastered with peeling posters boasted cartoon chefs juggling implausible amounts of toppings with manic glee.
The gruff man who emerged from behind a swinging kitchen door wasn’t the polished interviewer I’d envisioned. A flour-dusted apron clung to him like a second skin, and his voice boomed with a gruffness that could rival a foghorn. Desperation drowned any initial apprehension; I needed this chance.
The interview itself was refreshingly short and to the point. He didn’t delve into my past, didn’t ask about the fire that still burned in my conscience. Instead, he focused on the essentials: age, driver’s license, and the seemingly impossible task of juggling a piping-hot pizza and a temperamental GPS. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, it felt like everything. This gruff man, with his flour-dusted apron and no-nonsense demeanor, had offered me a way to crawl out of the hole I’d dug for myself.
The job itself wasn’t a walk in the park, but it wasn’t a disaster zone either. There were long stretches of downtime, with the occasional rush of orders that left me breathless and drenched in sweat. The base pay was a joke, barely enough to cover a week’s worth of ramen noodles. Thankfully, there were tips. Those crisp bills, tucked into sweaty palms or clinking in the bottom of the delivery bag, were my lifeline. Every penny went straight to Mr. Smith, a constant reminder of the debt hanging over my head.
But the real challenge wasn’t the physical demands or the meager pay. It was the customers. On paper, the job seemed simple: deliver hot pizza, collect payment, smile politely. Reality, however, was a different beast entirely. Some folks were friendly, genuinely happy to see a pizza appear at their doorstep. But others...well, let’s just say they could test the patience of a saint. A simple wrong turn or a slight delay could turn into a verbal maelstrom.
I’d had doors slammed in my face with enough force to rattle my teeth, endured accusations of stolen sodas with the indignation of a wronged king, and even faced down a few Karens demanding free pizzas for inconveniences real and imagined. Those moments made you question the very fabric of humanity, leaving you wondering if kindness was an extinct species.
One night at work, the clock on the wall mocked me with its luminous green glow that seemed to say, “almost there.” Midnight had just struck, and the promise of freedom – a bed, a shower, anything but another delivery – hung tantalizingly close.
Just as I was about to switch off the radio for the blissful silence of a closing shift, my boss’s voice crackled to life. “One more delivery,” he announced. I swallowed a sigh that threatened to be an all-out groan.
Two steaming pizzas were shoved into my arms, the cardboard boxes emanating a comforting warmth that instantly clashed with my dwindling patience. A greasy note stuck to the top held the address scrawled in messy handwriting and the delivery phone number, that seemed to have more digits than usual.
One glance at the GPS confirmed my suspicions – this delivery was far beyond the usual pizza radius, nestled deep in the heart of the quiet countryside.
With a resigned sigh, I punched the address into the GPS, muttering a prayer to the tech gods for a decent route. The glowing screen pulsed with a suggestion, and the cheery voice announced a “shortcut” that promised a quicker route.
“Creek Road” or some variation of that flashed across the screen, a name that conjured images of peaceful farmland and maybe a friendly cow or two.
Out on that side of town, the streetlights gave way to a blanket of inky blackness and the occasional twinkling star. Deciding which turnoff was actually Creek Road became a guessing game. The dense woods pressed in on both sides, their rustling leaves creating a symphony of gentle sounds.
Each twist and turn of the road had me second guessing myself. Was I headed in the right direction? Was I lost with a car full of rapidly cooling pizza?
In a last-ditch effort, I pulled the car onto the gravel shoulder of the darkened road, the headlights casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground. Grasping at the greasy note, I punched in the phone number scrawled across it. The silence stretched on, with the rhythmic chirping of crickets in the background, hidden in the roadside grass. Just as I was about to hang up, defeated, a gruff voice crackled through the receiver. It was low and deep, yet strangely laced with a gentle drawl.
“Hello?”
Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. “Hello? This is the pizza guy,” I blurted out, my voice a touch higher than usual."I’m having a bit of trouble finding your place."
Another beat of silence followed, then the man on the other end chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, son,” he drawled. “My driveway’s easy to miss. Looks more like a dirt trail than anything else.” He went on to describe the surroundings, his voice painting a picture with words. He mentioned a large oak tree with a tire swing hanging from a low branch, and a rusty mailbox shaped like a red pickup truck.
With renewed hope, I hung up the phone and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Turning cautiously onto the narrow dirt trail, I navigated slowly, my headlights cutting through the darkness like twin searchlights. The dust billowed behind the car, creating a hazy cloud that momentarily obscured the path ahead. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to thirty seconds, a single-story house emerged from the gloom. It looked like a ranch-style dwelling, painted a warm yellow that seemed to glow ever so slightly in the darkness. A single light flickered in the window, casting a welcoming rectangle of golden light onto the porch swing.
Clutching the two steaming pizzas, the cardboard boxes feeling pleasantly warm against my palms, I crunched across the gravel path towards the front door. No doorbell greeted me, so I rapped my knuckles against the weathered wood, the sound echoing hollowly in the still night air.
Muffled music, something old from the 1900s by the sound of it, filtered from within the house. Footsteps shuffled towards the door, a slow and deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver down my spine. The steps stopped abruptly, a beat of silence followed, then the door creaked open, revealing only a sliver of darkness within.
A man peeked out from behind the door, his face hidden in shadow. The man behind the door seemed to be deliberately using it as a shield, his body hidden from sight. “Uh, hey,” I stammered, the sudden silence thick and charged. “Pizza delivery, right?”
“Yep, that’s me,” rumbled the voice, instantly recognizable from our phone call. An awkward silence descended once more, the old scratchy music from another time providing the only distraction. Desperate to break the tension, I blurted out, “Do you have the cash ready?”
“Yes, hold on a second,” he mumbled, his voice warm despite the odd tension in the air. He shuffled back, the music momentarily replaced by the soft creak of floorboards. As a gentle breeze nudged the door further open, a sliver of light illuminated the interior, revealing a glimpse of a cluttered living room.
However, the visual revelation was quickly overpowered by a wave of putrid odor that slammed into me with the force of a brick to the face. The stench was unmistakable – a cloying, sickening sweetness that made my stomach churn and my eyes water. It was the smell of death, and it instantly overshadowed the old music playing from inside the house and the man’s friendly demeanor.
The seconds stretched into a thick, uncomfortable silence. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, the sound of the crickets outside growing louder in the absence of any other noise.
It was getting ridiculous. This whole delivery had been weird. With a growing sense of unease, I rapped my knuckles on the open doorway again.
“Sir?” My voice sounded strained, even to my own ears.
A muffled response came from somewhere deeper in the house. “Could you come inside to the kitchen, please?”
The request seemed so odd, so out of place, that I blinked, momentarily convinced I’d misheard him. “Can you repeat that?” I asked, needing confirmation.
“Can you come inside to the kitchen, please?” he repeated, his voice a touch more insistent this time, a hint of urgency creeping in that sent a shiver down my spine.
My gut lurched – that wasn’t in the training manual. My boss had drilled it into our heads to never enter a customer’s house for safety and liability reasons.
But In that moment, better judgment took a backseat to a misplaced sense of...well, I wasn’t sure what to call it – misplaced helpfulness, maybe? Against the gnawing voice of caution in my head, I found myself shrugging nonchalantly.
I stepped cautiously into the house, the weathered floorboards groaning under my weight like the protests of a reluctant spirit. It wasn’t just old; this house was a time capsule, each detail frozen in a snapshot of a bygone era. The air hung heavy with the scent of dust and forgotten memories.
The long, narrow interior stretched before me like a dimly lit tunnel. Dark hallways, their doorways shrouded in shadow,branched off to the left and right like forgotten rooms in a labyrinth. The faded wallpaper clinging precariously to the walls boasted a swirling floral pattern in hues of dusty rose and tarnished gold. It was a design straight out of a 1930s dream, faded with the passage of time.
In the corner, a tall grandfather clock stood sentinel, its ornate mahogany frame gleaming faintly in the dim light filtering through the half-open door. Its solemn presence was punctuated by the rhythmic tick-tock of its pendulum, a steady heartbeat in the quiet house. Next to it, an old record player whirred to life, its needle whispering across the surface of a dusty vinyl record. A melody, melancholic and hauntingly beautiful, drifted from the speakers, a forgotten song from a long-lost time.
To my right, an open doorway offered a tantalizing glimpse into the kitchen. An old cast-iron stove, its once-black belly worn smooth to a dull gray by countless meals, stood proudly against the far wall. Gleams of firelight danced in the chipped enamel surface, hinting at a pot simmering on its burner.
A porcelain sink, its pristine white surface now yellowed and etched with the passage of years, nestled beneath a small window framed by lace curtains that were more yellowed than white. The man’s voice, warm and slightly raspy, called out from somewhere inside the kitchen, but I couldn’t see him.
As I turned my head to the left, a narrow hallway extended before me, its right side lined with closed doors. At the far end, a dim, flickering light casted an unsettling glow on an old woman dancing in the hallway. She was completely naked, her back to me, she swayed and danced slowly to the 1900s music that was being played on the record player in the living room.
She was feeling herself, I don’t mean that she was confident or anything, I mean that she was literally touching her body, in this disturbingly erratic manner. Her movements were slow, almost dreamlike, as she swayed to the music filtering in from the living room. It wasn’t a sensual dance, but rather an erratic exploration of her own body. Her arms swooped and her hands fluttered, tracing lines along her skin in a way that sent a jolt of unease through me.
In my time as a pizza delivery guy, I’d seen my fair share of oddballs. A naked lady dancing to old music might sound funny to someone else, but what I was witnessing transcended humor. It was deeply unsettling, the way she moved with such a disconnect from the music, lost in a world of her own.
Terror coiled in my gut as I wrenched my gaze away from the disturbing scene in the hallway. I nervously redirected my gaze to the kitchen, catching sight of the man—or at least, what he allowed me to see of him. He was peeking around the corner now, his face concealed by the wall, body hidden. It was him again, but only a sliver of his face was visible—one eye staring at me with an unnerving intensity that made my skin crawl.
My mind went utterly blank. All I could manage was a single, desperate question that tumbled out in a strangled whisper, “Do you have the money?”
The response the man gave back was not what I expected. Instead of words, a sound erupted from the man’s hidden form – a low, guttural chuckle that seemed to crawl up from somewhere deep within the earth. It wasn’t laughter, not in any traditional sense. It was a vibration, deep and chilling, that resonated through my bones and made my hair stand on end. It was the sound of something primal, something lurking just beneath the surface of normalcy.
Then, with a terrifying suddenness, the horrific laughter was cut short. “GET HIM MOM!” The words exploded from the man’s mouth, shattering the silence with a force that made me flinch. The volume and raw aggression were a shocking contrast to his previous monotone and soft voice. It was as if a switch had flipped, revealing a hidden fury beneath the calm exterior.
My blood ran cold as the full weight of his words sank in. From the hallway on my left, a sound ripped through the air – the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. I whipped my head around just in time to see the naked woman, the one who had been dancing mere moments ago, sprinting towards me. Her speed defied her age, propelled by a terrifying urgency.
Pure terror coursed through me, a shot of adrenaline that propelled me into action. Without a single wasted thought, I spun on my heel, the forgotten pizza boxes tumbling from my grasp with a clatter. The door – the only escape – seemed miles away. My legs pumped, a primal urge to flee overriding any thought of dignity. I flung the door open with a crash, the hinges groaning in protest, and practically dove through the threshold.
Reaching the car, I fumbled with the keys, momentarily cursing my trembling hands. The door flew open, and I practically flung myself into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut with another bone-jarring thud. In a heartbeat, the engine roared to life, the sound a beautiful symphony in the face of the chilling silence behind me. My foot slammed down on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward, tires spitting gravel as I tore out of the driveway.
As I sped away, the house receding rapidly in the rearview mirror, I couldn’t resist a final, glance back. Bathed in the pale moonlight spilling through the open doorway, I saw them – the man and apparently his mom, both completely naked, their forms stark and unsettling against the dark interior. Their faces were obscured by shadow, but the intensity of their gazes seemed to pierce the distance, following me even as I put more and more space between us.
Whatever was going on in that house was far from normal. I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense that their intentions were anything but innocent—it certainly wasn’t about the pizza. Whatever secrets that house harbored, whatever abnormal dynamics existed between the man and his mom, I knew it was something I wanted no part of.
I returned to work a few days later, the encounter at the house replaying in my mind on loop. Sharing my story with my coworkers was a mistake. Most of them laughed, just as I expected. “Man you got chased by a naked old woman?!” They joked. Their laughter felt hollow and insensitive, like a swarm of angry bees buzzing in my ears. Frustrated and shaken, I stormed into my boss’s office, expressing my desire to never return to the job.
He was aware of the court-mandated agreement and tried to persuade me to stay, saying, “If you don’t have work to accommodate your neighbor’s garage, you’ll end up right back in juvie,” he warned. The thought of juvenile detention didn’t hold the same weight it once did, not compared to what I saw in that house. “I don’t care,” I blurted out. “I’d rather go back than continue working here.”
4 weeks later, I finally landed a job at a local diner. The pay was decent, but after court fees, and the courts-mandated agreement to pay off my neighbors garage, every penny counted. One night, during a late shift, the diner’s familiar atmosphere engulfed me—the greasy aroma of food on the grill, the blur of servers rushing between tables, the clink of dishes in the kitchen. I was wiping down a table, sticky with ketchup and littered with leftover fries, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and answered, “Hello?” in a curious tone.
Silence.
Then, ragged breaths filled the receiver, shallow and strained. Normally, I would’ve hung up by now, but I faintly recognized something—the sound of music resonating in the static background of the call. I knew I’d heard the music before, I just couldn’t remember where. I listened carefully, and it hit me like a ton of bricks when I realized that it was the same song—that old, scratchy tune from the early 1900s playing faintly in the background. That same exact song I’d heard, in that house.

My name is Anthony and I’m a 28-year-old closeted, married crossdresser. My wife and I have been together for around 6 years now and she knows nothing of my dressing up, I usually keep my kink very limited and usually only throw on a pair of her knickers before masturbating to sissy porn. The post-nut clarity hits me pretty hard every time and has been the reason I’ve never gone further with it. Lately, though the fantasy of fucking a sissy with us both dressed in sexy lingerie has been consuming me. My wife travels a bit for work which is usually when I get the time to dress up. During her last work trip, I was browsing through an online crossdressing community when I came across a post by a crossdresser calling herself Amy. It read, "Hey gurls, I'm looking for other crossdressers/sissies to join me to explore various kinks. Let me know if you're interested." Intrigued, I messaged her, and soon we were exchanging pictures and flirtatious messages. Amy suggested we meet up at a hotel for an entire weekend. I thought about my wife finding out but the thrill of it all was too much to resist. I told Amy I was happy to meet however we would have to wait for my wife’s next work trip which was 2 weeks away. Amy accepted this and in the meantime, we continued with our steamy conversations, the anticipation building as we discussed our fantasies and plans for our secret getaway.
Due to having to hide my ever-growing alter ego, I only had limited lingerie and female clothing so I decided it was time to start preparing for the big night by buying a new sexy outfit. After work, I headed straight to a lingerie store that catered to people like us – those who enjoyed crossing gender lines. As I entered the dimly lit store, my heart raced. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the air as I perused the racks, searching for the perfect outfit to wear for the special occasion. I finally settled on a sexy black skirt that hugged my figure and clung to my skin like a second layer, It was short with a slit on the left side revealing just enough thigh to be provocative. I matched the skirt with a white blouse with intricate lace details and delicate fabric. I picked out a black lace bra and panty set, complete with a garter belt and sheer stockings. Moving further into the store, I found a wig section and picked a long, flowing blonde one that would complement the outfit nicely. Next, I made my way to the makeup counter, where I found the perfect shades of lipstick, eye shadow, and foundation. Satisfied with my selections, I proceeded to the register, feeling giddy and excited about my upcoming adventure.
On my way home, I stopped by an adult store to pick up some essentials – a butt plug and a chastity cage. The thought of trying these toys with another person sent shivers down my spine. The days leading up to our meeting were agonizingly slow. Each hour seemed to drag on forever, yet I couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement. I got home from work at least an hour before my wife each day so I spent my late afternoons practicing my makeup skills then jumping in the shower to wash it all off just before my wife got home. A week before my rendezvous with Amy I waxed my entire body, I have often shaved my body so it’s not something that my wife would notice but if she did I could just play it off as something I wanted to try rather than shaving so much.
Finally, Friday rolled around and my wife had left for her work trip giving me all weekend to have the much-anticipated adventure with Amy. I got home from work in the afternoon and started to get ready, I headed to the bathroom and took off the work clothes I’d been wearing revealing my smooth hairless body, I just needed some small areas touched up to make sure I was completely smooth. I entered the shower and lathered my body, as I rubbed the soap into my skin, I couldn't help but imagine the touch of another person's hands exploring my body. I grabbed my razor and began gliding it over my skin in long smooth strokes, making sure not to miss any spots. I felt a surge of excitement course through my veins. This wasn't just any ordinary night; this was the night I had been waiting for. The night I would finally be able to express my true identity. After finishing shaving any stray hairs from my body that may have been left over after waxing I turned my attention to my facial hair. I used the razor in all possible directions to make sure my face was smooth and ready for my makeup.
Once I was finished in the shower, I stepped out and dried myself off before applying a generous amount of lotion to my skin ensuring I was soft and smooth from head to toe. The scent of the lotion filled the room, a mix of vanilla and jasmine that was both sensual and inviting. A little extra lotion was applied around my back door and just worked the tip of a finger inside before grabbing my new plug and positioning it at the entrance to my hole, the lotion was all the lubrication I needed to push it inside me. A heart-shaped purple jewel was now all that was visible from the plug. With the plug positioned firmly, I moved on to my chastity cage, my goodness it was uncomfortable, I’ve never really been into the chastity side of things, I just thought some of the cages looked really cute and I wanted to make a good impression for Amy. I tried to brush the discomfort aside and forget about it for now as I planned on taking it off once I was at the hotel with Amy anyway. I moved on with applying my make-up just as I had been practising all this week, Contouring used to appear as feminine as possible, my lips painted a deep red and sultry dramatic eye shadow completed the look. I slipped my new lace front wig on and wiggled it into place, the long blonde perfectly styled waves falling around my shoulders. I smiled at my reflection, feeling more confident than ever before. It was now time to go, I threw my makeup, mobile phone and some other supplies in a bag I had borrowed from my wife and slipped on some open-toe heels also borrowed then made my way downstairs and opened the front door, took a deep breath and stepped outside, ready to embrace whatever the night had in store for me.
I made my way to the hotel and found a spot to park my car, I got out with my heart racing as I crossed the parking lot to the designated room. With a shaky hand, I knocked on the door. The door opened, revealing not the woman he had been expecting, but a balding, grey-haired, moustached man with a beer belly and broad shoulders. I froze for a moment before I could get any words out. “I must have the wrong room, sorry,” I said as I turned to walk away. In an instant, he grabbed my wrist yanking me past the doorframe and into the hotel room. “You’re not going anywhere” he sneered as he slammed the door behind us. I started to scream at him “Let me go” as I struggled towards the door. He picked me up, my handbag falling to the floor and in one swift movement he slammed me onto the bed pinning me down, I screamed as loud as I could but only for a second before he covered my mouth with his hand, he took a stray sock that had been laying on the bed and shoved it into my mouth. I had one free hand which I used to hit him which had little effect, he was so much bigger than me and quickly adjusted himself so that his body weight did most of the restraining, his hands now pinning my wrists down to the mattress. I thrashed underneath him as I tried to scream through the sock stuffed in my mouth effectively muffling my cries. He let me squirm and struggle for a while longer but you would be surprised how quickly you can tire yourself out fighting to free yourself from being pinned down and after a minute or so my thrashing became feeble attempts at resisting against my attacker. I struggled to breathe past the sock and began to feel a little lightheaded, my squirming stopped as I submitted to his grip. “You done now slut? ‘Cause I can do this all night” he said looming over me, his sharp piercing eyes staring into my soul. I didn’t respond, I could not face my captor and I turned my head to look away closing my eyes, trying to wish my way out of this situation.
Tears began to flow from my eyes as I pictured my situation and what I believed this man planned on doing to me. He noticed the tears and started to laugh “You sissies are so easy to break, I probably don’t even have to blackmail you do I, Anthony?” Wait! Anthony? How does he know my real name? This quickly gained my attention and I turned my head back to look at him, his eyes lit up as he watched the realisation hit my face. “Oh yes, I know a lot about you Anthony. I'm somewhat of a hacker and I've been able to learn all I need to about you, I know your wife’s name and contact details most importantly but I’ve also got your employment details from which I was then able to get your bosses and colleagues' contact details. I have your social media accounts and have copies of all your friends lists”. My mind was reeling, my heart was pounding out of my chest, and complete shock fear took hold of me. This man whom I’d never met before had just used my real name, not that of a cross-dressed alter ego but rather my real identity, an identity that I would do anything to protect. “I’m going to let go of you now but before I do I need you to agree to be a good girl,” he said with his full weight still on top of me “No screaming or scratching okay? You don’t want me sending all those pictures you sent me to your wife right?” I nodded in agreement “You understand I will destroy your life if you are naughty yes?” Again I nodded meekly and with that, he released his iron grip and got up off the bed. I sat up and pulled the sock out of my mouth. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” His gaze fixed on me, his lips curving into a dangerous predatory smile. “I want you to be my slave for the weekend, you are free to go right now if you want but you should know if you leave I will be sending all of the pictures of you and screenshots of messages to your wife, coworkers and everyone on your social media friends list and did I mention the videos? Oh yes!” He said excitedly, “You should really strengthen your cybersecurity. I have hacked your computer, it’s how I got all of your information. Remember the email you opened from me with what you thought was a ‘broken link’ attached? Well, It gave me access to your laptop and I accessed your webcam. Now I have multiple clips of you dressed in your wife’s lingerie sitting in front of your laptop masturbating and parading around the room trying to look sexy. If you decide to stay and serve me as my slave then those videos will never see the light of day but you will do exactly as I say and obey every command, any disobedient actions on your part over the course of this weekend will be met with a video, photo or set of messages being released”.
His threat hung heavy in the air as I struggled to find the words to respond, I was unsure of what to do. Would he let me go right now if I said I didn’t care if he sent them? Should I tell him to go ahead and send it to everyone? At least then I could go to the police. Complying with his demands meant putting myself at his mercy and who knows what he was going to do to me but the thought of my wife finding out was more than I could bear. Fear was coursing through my veins as I weighed my options, I couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at me – with a mix of hunger and contempt. It sent a shiver through me that I couldn’t quite explain. He must have noticed my hesitation because he leaned closer to me, his breath smelling of cheap beer, his eyes darkening. “You should know that I won’t hesitate to release those photos, videos and messages if you don’t cooperate”. As I wrestled with my conscience, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of twisted things he had in mind for me, I love my wife and her seeing those photos and proof of my plans to cheat on her would destroy her, let alone all of my colleagues seeing and laughing over my compromising photos. I couldn’t allow this man to ruin my life and humiliate me in front of everyone that I know. I reasoned to myself that it’s just 48 hours, make him happy and he might leave me alone, it’s the best chance that I’ve got, and the only option I could see was to comply with his demands. I will stay for the weekend to save my marriage. “Okay I will stay” I said meekly. “Good girl, I knew you would make the right decision” My heart sank at the sight of this man smirking at me, how could I have been so foolish? I was so caught up in the fantasy of meeting another crossdresser that I hadn't considered the risks, now I’m stuck being this man's plaything for a weekend.
“Now, let’s get a better look at you,” he said as he moved his hands onto my waist and started pulling me in closer, his hands sliding all over my skirt and blouse as he caressed my body, I felt completely disgusted in this moment, every fibre of my being wanting to escape this place and I knew it was only going to get worse. He moved in and started to kiss me, his moustache roughly tickling my upper lip. He started to unbutton my blouse before sliding it off my shoulders, he pulled it off me, dropping it on the floor, his hands made their way back up to my waist as he fiddled with the zip on the side, before I knew it, my skirt too was on the floor leaving me wearing my black lacy lingerie set that I bought for this very night. He stood back “Very nice” he exclaimed “ I can’t believe you went and bought that just for me!” An evil grin plastered on his face. He grabbed my hand and spun me around before pushing on my upper back causing me to bend over, “oh wow! You are a dirty little slut, nice butt plug whore” he exclaimed as he rubbed my ass. He then sat down on the edge of the bed and instructed me to dance for him, “I can’t dance to save my life” I said nervously, this seemed to anger him, he stood back up grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me towards him as he sat back down causing me to fall onto his lap. I felt a sharp pain on my ass that was accompanied by a loud noise. He spanked me over and over, the pain only intensified with each thrust of his hand coming in contact with the skin on my bare ass, with only the skinny strip of cloth of my lacy thong to protect me. I began crying out, begging him to stop. “Please no” I cried, “Please no, what?” He sneered. “Please stop! It’s hurting me, I’m sorry, I will dance for you”. He stopped spanking me, my butt cheeks must have been purple, and they kept stinging after he stopped. “From now on you will address me as daddy, master or sir and you will only speak when spoken to, if you have any questions you will raise your hand and wait for me to address you. Got it?” He said. “Yes Daddy” I replied fearing what he was capable of next. “You’re lucky I’m giving you a break this time and not selecting someone from your friends list to send a few of your naughty photos too because that’s how this is going to work, every single time that you do something I don’t like and depending on the severity of it I will send a photo of one of your videos to one of your Facebook friends, co-workers, Boss or your wife. Now dance slut” he said as he waved his hand almost dismissively in my direction.
I started to do my best impression of a sexy dance. I felt ridiculous but I didn’t dare stop which I’m sure would have provoked further punishment. I backed in close to him, waving my ass in front of him trying to keep it sexy. He grabbed my hips and spun me around so I was facing him. He reached out and grabbed my junk giving a solid squeeze, it hurt and I winced in pain as I attempted to pull away. “Wow you’re already caged for me” he said as he reached over to the nightstand to grab his open beer with one hand, still squeezing me with the other. “Well, it’s a good thing because you won’t need what’s underneath it any time during the weekend.” “Oh great,” I thought to myself. This was a terrible idea, it was already causing me discomfort but now it was hurting, and his squeezing didn’t help. I wonder if he will let me take it off? I raised my hand, “what” he sneered. “Please Daddy may I take the cage off, it’s hurting” he just laughed at me. “You think I give a fuck if it hurts you?” he asked. “Well…” I said before he interrupted me, “that was a rhetorical question sissy, don’t answer that. The answer is no, no you can’t take it off and no I don’t care what is hurting you.” He stood up and went to his bag “In fact, let’s add some more discomfort shall we?” he said as he reached into his bag bringing out a pair of handcuffs. First, he walked behind me roughly grabbing my arms and pulling them behind my back, while locking a cuff around my right wrist, next to the left, he pushed me face down on the bed, I was bending over, my ass in the air. As if I wasn’t before but I’m now under his complete control, I didn’t dare move, I couldn’t fight back even if I wanted to. I could hear him rustling around for something. my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of what was going to happen next. He then grabbed a collar and put it around my neck before attaching a leash to the collar. He instructed me to get on my knees which I did as quickly as possible. He then sat back down on the edge of the bed and told me to crawl to him, I started shuffling towards him on my knees as he tugged on the leash. I know what’s coming next, My thoughts racing, trying to work out if there was a way I could get myself out of this situation
I’m now on my knees directly in front of my captor, hands bound behind my back, he grabs the back of my blonde wig-adorned head and pushes it down into his crotch rubbing his cock through his shorts on my face. He stood up slightly before pulling his shorts and underwear down revealing a fat semi tumescent cock around 4-5 inches long. He sat back down, his balls resting on the bed all the while holding a tight grip on my leash keeping my face right in front of his manhood. He slides forward a little and spreads his legs, his balls now hanging off the edge of the bed. He instructs me to lick them. I lower my head and stick my tongue out making contact with his scrotum, I start running my tongue all over his balls and then begin to take one of his testicles in my mouth giving it a little suck before releasing it and doing the same on the other. I start getting right in as low as I can go with long licks making their way up from his balls and swirling my tongue around the base of his cock. I start then licking up his shaft and stop just shy of the head of his cock. By this stage, he’s erect and standing at about 7 or 8 inches. I move my lips over the head of his cock and swirl my tongue around it, he lets out a sigh and I know I’m doing a good job. If I can get him to cum he might lose interest pretty quickly or might get some post-nut clarity and want me to go. This is the best I can hope for so I go on with trying to pleasure him the best I can. After a while of keeping it sensual, he starts getting impatient and again holds the back of my head. He starts bucking his hips in an effort to speed up the pace. It didn’t take long before he stood up and roughly face fucked me. I was trying desperately not to gag but it was no use, every spasm of my muscles would be followed by him pushing his cock further into my throat. I struggled to breathe and could only manage short little puffs in and out of my nose as he rammed his cock in and out of my mouth, I had drool running down my chin and tears flowing from my eyes. The relentless face fucking went on for what seemed like forever, my lack of air caused me to go light-headed and limp, but this didn’t deter him, he just held my head in a vice-like grip using me like a fleshlight. He tensed up and I knew what was to come next, he rammed his cock into my throat one last time and held it there as he blew his load, it was like a forced injection of cum straight into my stomach, the option of whether or not to swallow was completely removed by the fact the head of his cock was so far down my throat. I could feel his cock spasm as he shot rope after rope of cum inside me. I felt disgusted with myself, humiliated, degraded. I couldn’t believe that at that moment I was impaled on his cock having a big load of that arseholes cum being pumped into my stomach. With a few last spasms and grunts, he let go of my head and I pulled away, his cock withdrawing from my mouth.
He laid back on the bed looking at me still kneeling next to the bed. “Fuck off and clean yourself up, you look disgusting,” he said. As I got up off my knees he said “Oh right, the cuffs” he said as he rolled over to pick his pants up off the floor, removing the key from one of the pockets. He sat up and motioned for me to come closer, I spun around so he could get access to my wrists, I patiently waited for the cuffs to come off but almost ran to the bathroom, grabbing my bag off the floor as soon as my wrists were freed. I couldn’t wait to get away from him and to have a moment to gather my thoughts. I closed the bathroom door behind me and looked in the mirror, I was a total mess, my makeup was smeared all over, and my mascara had run down my cheeks. I looked like a complete slut and I kind of enjoyed seeing myself in that state. I snapped back to my new reality, I could not let myself begin to enjoy any aspect of this terrible situation, I had to figure out how to get out of there, I went to grab my phone out of my bag, playing out every possible scenario that could lead me to get out of here but it was not there. My phone was missing and I was wracking my brain trying to figure out where it was. Maybe I could call for help but I needed to find it first. Did my abuser take it when he had me face down on the bed? He must have, it was in there when I walked in. I was in a panic, feeling so helpless and alone, what’s he doing with it? I sat down on the toilet just to gather my thoughts. I weighed up the options, even if I could call for help I’d already decided I did not want to risk having the photos and videos released. I took a deep breath and stood up, again looking in the mirror I told myself “You can get through this, you will get through this” I picked up a wipe and cleaned up my face. I expertly applied my second round of makeup to my face and adjusted my wig. I continued freshening up until I was almost looking like I did when I walked in. I swallowed hard as I opened the door to the room, I was almost immediately confronted by him lying down on the bed naked as he watched porn on the TV, some slut gagging on a cock by the sounds of it. It was only when I walked a few more steps and got a better-angled view of the TV that I saw the person gagging in the porno was me! He secretly recorded me sucking his cock and casting it on the TV. He grinned and asked me if I liked what I saw, I couldn’t muster a response, I just stood there in shock. How could I be so stupid? How could I not have known? I just keep getting myself deeper into this mess and now he had me gagging on his cock on video to add to the ammo against me. He gives a little chuckle while watching my response to the video and says “Don’t worry slut, if you’re a good girl no one will see this. Speaking of being a good girl, I want a massage. Come over here and help daddy relax”. My heart pounding in my chest as I reluctantly approached the bed. My bathroom break gave me some distance but now I’m right back here with my abuser. The sight of this man made me sick but I needed to get this over with. I grit my teeth, my hands tremble slightly as I take position behind the man, my fingers hovering over the taut muscles of his shoulders. "I shouldn't be doing this," I murmured, my voice barely audible above the slurping noises from the video of me playing in the background. "Shut up and get to work," he growled impatiently, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Use this,” he said and threw a bottle of massage oils at me. Swallowing my pride, I poured some oil out and began to massage his man's shoulders, my fingers slowly working their way down his back. He let out a low moan of pleasure, and I felt another wave of disgust wash over me. This wasn't what I wanted, I never asked for any of this but the threat of exposure loomed large in my mind, and I knew I had no choice but to comply. As I continued to massage, he instructed me to move my hands lower, I was tracing the curve of the man's lower back, “lower!” He sneered, my hands settling on his firm ass. The man arched his back, pushing himself into my touch. Despite my revulsion, I found myself caught up in the sensual rhythm of the massage, my fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes. At least I wasn’t getting a cock shoved down my throat I thought to myself. "Mmm feels good, Now massage between the cheeks” he said My cheeks flushed crimson, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out in frustration feeling even more trapped than before. I did as I was told much to my disgust, I rubbed up and down between his cheeks, my fingers running over his asshole. I felt so dirty, I felt powerless. Suddenly he pushed up on his hands and knees, he looked back at me, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I want you to lick my ass." Every fibre of my being, every thought screaming to fight, to get out of here but I was completely at his mercy, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I steeled myself for what was to come. I slowly, reluctantly, leaned forward, my tongue extended toward his hairy ass. He groaned in pleasure as I began to lick him, the taste-making me gag, my eyes watered as I continued to lick and suck on his ass, varying my speed and pressure according to his instructions.
Next, he got up and instructed me to lie on my back. He stood over me, looking down at me with a hunger that made my skin crawl. Then, without a word, he lowered himself down, straddling me, his ass hovering over my face, “lick!” Is all he said as he pressed his ass down on my face almost smothering me, I did as I was told just barely able to breathe through my nose, I closed my eyes, desperate to block out the reality of the situation. He began to massage my chest, roughly twisting my nipples through the lace of my bra. As his hands moved lower, he traced the outline of my waist, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of my lace underwear. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers squeezed at my hairless balls and caged cock. The man laughed, clearly enjoying my distress. "You're such a filthy little slut," he said, I wanted to die of shame. He instructed me to stroke his cock, I reached between his legs, my hand brushing his hairy ballsack as I felt for his cock, taking it in my hand I began to stroke him as I furiously licked at his hole. I felt him get rock-hard in my hand. I still couldn’t believe that I was in this position, purely existing for this man’s pleasure. I carried on for a while, licking, and stroking, he started grinding his ass on my face, and I felt broken. Again he stood up and reached down, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me to a kneeling position on the bed, He pushed me forward so that I was on all fours, he slapped my ass hard causing me to wince in pain. "Now," he growled, "it's time for the real fun to begin." My heart raced in terror as he grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table, knowing full well what he intended to do.
I clenched my teeth, anticipating the worst as he squeezed a dollop of lubricant onto his fingers. The cold gel sent a shiver down my spine as he began to circle my entrance with his fingertips, sending waves of dread pulsing through me. Slowly but surely, he eased one finger inside me, stretching and probing with no regard for my discomfort or humiliation. He worked his finger in and out, loosening me up for what was yet to come. Tears streamed down my face as I fought to hold back the sobs welling up within me. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't supposed to be like this. My life had become a waking nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. He pulled his finger out, leaving me feeling empty and violated. Grabbing the lube again, he coated his cock from base to tip, making it glisten under the dim hotel room light. With an evil grin, he positioned himself behind me, pressing the head of his throbbing member against my tight asshole, the pain quickly building causing me to whimper softly, I clawed at the sheets beneath me as my tight ring gave way to the fat head of his cock. I moaned in agony as he forced himself deeper inside me. Every brutal thrust tore at my insides, causing unimaginable pain that burned like fire. And still, he continued, pounding into me relentlessly, turning my body into a mere receptacle for his sadistic desires. With each savage thrust, he grunted and moaned, clearly enjoying my suffering. His large, calloused hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me in place as he used my body for his own perverted pleasure. I felt helpless, unable to do anything but endure the torturous invasion. And then, just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he thrust his entire body weight down on me penetrating me as deep as he could go, my arms and legs bucked underneath me as his weight pressed down, He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down to the mattress either side of my head. His ragged breaths and grunts were only amplified by the fact his mouth was right by my ear. I was unable to move under his weight, my arms being held in place by his vice-like grip.
I pleaded with him to slow down, I couldn’t take the intrusion, the burning searing pain in my bottom causing me to cry into the pillow, he ignored my cries, focusing solely on his own twisted gratification. Time seemed to stand still as he mercilessly pounded away at my ravaged hole like a wild animal. His meaty hands gripped my wrists tightly, holding me in place as he continued to thrust deep inside me. Every brutal movement sent shockwaves of pain through my entire body, but I had no choice but to endure it. At that moment, I felt completely broken and defeated. All hope had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of despair. The man's crude grunts and groans filled the room, a testament to his enjoyment of my suffering. Tears streamed down my face as I silently begged for the nightmare to be over, I lay there helplessly, waiting for him to finish what he started. Finally, with a loud grunt, he shuddered, his cock twitching inside me as he released his load. Wave after wave of warm cum filled me up, the feeling both foreign and repulsive as he emptied himself into me. His weight pressed heavily against me, pinning me to the bed, I just had to lay there in wait as he fought to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto my back, adding to the discomfort and humiliation I already felt. With a hefty sigh, he pulled out, leaving me feeling empty, the feeling quickly replaced by him roughly inserting my butt plug back inside my ass leaving me feeling even more used than before. My insides throbbed and ached, a constant reminder of the violation I had just endured. He got up off the bed and walked around to stand in front of me, his cock still semi-erect, “Clean it” he said looking down at me with a sadistic grin. I went to reach for a towel which was neatly folded on the bed before the abuse, now lying crumpled on the floor. “Not with that” he sneered “Use your mouth” his eyes filled with nothing but contempt. I opened my mouth and took the head of his cock in, as deeply as possible, I felt so degraded, the feeling completely consuming me, it was intoxicating. I felt a wave of euphoria rush over me, The fact that my body seemingly began to enjoy these tasks only added to the humiliation I felt. I licked and slurped at a mixture of lube and his cum that coated his cock. Despite my efforts his cock continued to soften, “ahh fuck it” he grunted in frustration and pulled his cock away from me, “I’ve got a better idea anyway” he said as he reached down and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him and forcing me to my feet. My legs trembled beneath me, an after-effect of the trauma I had just endured. As he led me into the bathroom he pushed me towards the middle of the room "Squat," he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding. My heart pounded in my chest as I Reluctantly squatted down. With my head bowed in shame, I waited for instruction. “Pull your plug out and put it in your mouth” My stomach churned at the thought of what he had just instructed me, to do but I knew there was no escape. His blackmail had me firmly in his grasp, and I had no choice but to comply. I pulled the plug out and inserted it in my mouth. “Look, your ass is dripping with cum”. As he spoke, I felt a warm, sticky sensation begin to trickle down my butt cheek and drip on the floor. The man laughed, clearly delighting in my misery. "That's it," he gloated. "Let it all out." My face burned with shame as I felt the warm cum leak from my abused hole, pooling between my feet. "Now," he said, stepping back. "It's time to clean up this mess." I looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, my heart pounding in fear and humiliation. He smiled coldly, gesturing towards the puddle of cum on the floor. "Lick it up," he ordered. "Every last drop." Slowly, hesitantly, I lowered my head towards the puddle, my lips trembling with disgust and shame. He watched me intently, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as I began to lap up the warm, sticky cum from the floor. Each swipe of my tongue brought a new wave of humiliation, but I had no choice; I had to endure this degrading act if I wanted to protect my secret. As I continued to lick the floor clean, he circled me, his eyes roaming over my shame-filled body. "You're a natural at this," he sneered, clearly enjoying every moment of my torment. I felt like an animal, reduced to the lowest form of existence, all because of this man's twisted desires. Finally, the puddle on the floor was gone, leaving only the lingering taste of cum in my mouth. My tongue felt coated in filth, and my entire body ached with shame. But he still wasn't finished with me. He grabbed my arm once more, pulling me to my feet, his grip tight and unforgiving. "We're not done yet," he growled, his eyes dark with lust.
To be continued in Part II

I have a kind of clicking and/or creeking/grinding noise coming from the front of my 2016 Audi q5 2.0.
It appears only at slow speed either while turning or accelerating/braking (shifting weight of car).
I checked and found that the cv boots are ripped on both sides so I figured it is the cv joint. I replaced both front cv axles but the noise did not go away.
Today I checked: - sway bar bushings - good - sway bar links - good - tie rod seemed ok - I can move the connection point at wheel slightly but not much and no rips or cracks visible - upper control arm has some cracks in the rubber boots but don’t wiggle - lower control arm bushings seem to be worn out/cracked
I can slightly wiggle the lower control arm at the rear bushing but not much.
Here are some pictures.
https://imgur.com/a/N36ebZT
Do you think the lower control arm bushing could be the cause for this noise?

https://imgur.com/gallery/813Gyzl
https://imgchest.com/p/qb4z3bz857j
Hi,
Cutting back on collecting and I’m selling a bunch of games! Not everything is pictured here so let me know if you need pics of an item.
I prefer PayPal friends and Family. I have many confirmed trades here.
I’m happy to provide pics for any items and detailed condition descriptions.
If it’s not listed below, it’s been sold previously. Pictures are not updated every post.
Shipping is free over $25, or $4 per item. (Shipping is only within the United States. No international shipping unless you are willing to pay the exact cost of shipping)
There is always room for negotiation, prices are based on market value, but there is wiggle room if you buy more than one game.
I’m also looking to buy Game Boy (DMG) loose
Beethoven
Beetlejuice
Maui Mallard
Out of Gas
Skate or Die: Tour de Thrash
Spud’s Adventure
Selling:
Legend of Zelda Game & Watch (New) $38
\*\*\*
Switch
Akka Arrh (LRG New) $39
Arietta of Spirits (New Red Art Games) $39
Atari Recharged Collection 1 (New) $33
Bite the Bullet (New SLG with updated cart) $79
Bloodrayne Betrayal (New LRG) $38
Bloodstained Curse of the Moon 2 (LRG BB New) $30
Cotton Reboot (CIB) $20Devil Engine (New JP) $29
Devil May Cry Triple Pack (New, code expired, Only has DMC 1 on cart) $20
Doom: The Classics Collection (New LRG Best Buy variant cover) $39 Drainus (New SLG with Postcard) $69 Dying Light (CIB) $20
ExZeus (New) $25 Fire Emblem Warriors (New) $23
Game Builder Garage (CIB) $20
Ghost Blade HD (CIB) $24
Grow: Song of the Evertree (New) $20
Ittle Dew (New with all goodies) $105
Ittle Dew 2 (CIB with map and Manual) $35
Kamiko (Rare New with soundtrack and card B-Side) $99
Koumajou Remilia Scarlet Symphony (CIB) $30
Kyogeki Quartet Fighters (CIB B-Side with CD and Goodies) $115
Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom (Case, manual and stickers only, no game) $25 The Mummy Demastered Collector’s Edition (New LRG) $89
NeverAwake (New JP) $34
Ni No Kuni (CIB) $20
Oniken + Odallus Collection Limited Edition (New) $45
Onimusha Warlords (Japanese Release with English CIB) $28
Overlord Escape from Nazarick (NEW JP) $30
Pokémon Pokeball + box Only, (no pokeball) $10
Pressure Overdrive (New) $25 (SLG)
Psikyo Collection Vol.2 (Japan) (New) $20 R-Type Dimensions EX (CIB SLG with Postcard) $115 Space Invaders Invincible Collection (CIB SLG) $55
Star Hunter DX + Space Moth (New SLG with Postcard) $55
Superepic The Entertainment War (New) $25 TriggerHeart Exelica (JP New) $25
Wonder Boy Returns Remix $39 (New with Postcard)
The Wonderful 101 (New Kickstarter edition with holographic cover) $35 Xeodrifter (Red Art Games) (New) $25 Xeodrifter (Atooi/LRG New) $25
3DS
Andro Dunos 2 (New) $35
Astérix le Domaine des Dieux (PAL CIB) $12
Brain Age Concentration Training (CIB) $15
Code Name Steam (New) $10Dr. Kawashima 3DS (French PAL CIB) $15
Fragrant Story (New) $35
Go! Go! Kokopolo Anniversary Collection (Limited Run Games) (New) $79
Kid Icarus (manual and inserts only) $10
The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds (Nintendo Selects) (New) $25 The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds (Handheld Game of the Year Edition) (New) $55 Metroid Samus Returns (Case and insert only) $10
PES 2013 (CIB) $9
Resident Evil Revelations (CIB With misprint cover and the corrected cover) $28 Sega 3D Classics (New) $27
Sega 3D Fukkoku Reprinted Archives 1 (New) $99
Sega 3D Fukkoku Reprinted Archives 3 Final Stage (New) $255
Shakedown Hawaii (New) $49
Steeldiver (New) $10
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (CIB) $8
DS
6 Loose DS carts (Crosswords DS, Mon Coach Personnel, Moshi Monsters 1 & 2, Mots Croissés, Scribblenauts) $12
Teenage Mutant Ninja 3 Mutant Nightmare (CIB) $34
Game Boy DMG (Manuals only)(Price based on market value and condition) Alleyway $5 Donkey Kong Land $7 Double Dragon $6 Four Player Adapter $4 Game Boy DMG Instruction Booklet $8 Golf $5
Pacman $5 Revenge of the Gator $10 Tetris $5 Tetris 2 $5
\*\*\*
Super Nintendo (carts only) (take the lot for $25 shipped)
Batman Returns $22
The Magical Quest Starring Mickey Mouse (PAL Version) $8
Super Famicom (carts only) (take the lot for $65 shipped)
Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest $8
Return of Double Dragon $19
Super Ghouls N Ghosts $10
Turtles in Time (Super Famicom) $34
Torneko No Daiboken (Dragon Quest IV Spin-Off) $8
\*\*\*
Wii U
Super Mario 3D World (Case and manual only, no disc) $5
*** PS5
Death Stranding Director’s Cut New $24
Devil May Cry 5 CIB $19 Kena Bridge of Spirits Deluxe Edition (CIB) $19
Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom (New LRG) $49The Pathless (New) $18
*** PS Vita
Batman: Arkham Origins Blackgate (New) $25
La-Mulana EX (LRG New) $39
Odin Sphere Leifthrasir (CIB with high quality custom made manual) $65
Risk of Rain ( LRG CIB) $35
The Swapper (LRG New) $45 Teslagrad (New) $25
Xeodrifter (LRG New with barcode hole under seal) $32
*** PS4
Amazing Princess Sarah (New) $32
Assassin’s Creed Unity (CIB) $8
Cobra Kai (CIB) $10 Injustice 2 Legendary Edition (CIB) $10 No Man’s Sky Beyond (CIB) $25 Sega Genesis Classics (CIB) $18
Wonder Boy: The Dragon’s Trap (New LRG, Master System cover) $24
***
Amiibos
Palamute sealed $18
Palico sealed $18

https://imgur.com/a/C8ffzbk
Hello everyone. I'm planning on thinning out a bit of my knife collection, here's for starters.
Asking 195$ shipped, not interested in trades right now. The knife was originally purchased brand new by myself from riversedgecutlery.com. If anyone needs additional pictures / documentation or whatever just let me know. =)
There is a small amount of wear on the clip and thumb-stud, and the blade has been sharpened one time by myself. At the moment it's very sharp, centering is perfect and action is free-falling, no blade wiggle
SOLD

chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Link to AO3
For the first time in a long while Q’s bedroom didn’t feel empty. Next to him, lay the pinnacle of human beauty.
His little prince, exhausted after a single session of vigorous love-making, peacefully slept, curled in a cocoon of blankets and his newfound lover’s smell. Despite his promises to “ride Q all night long”, he went out like a light once he climaxed, quickly drifting off while still reveling in the afterglow.
But that wasn’t why Q was feeling worried. In fact, he was grateful for his student’s lack of endurance tonight because when their foreplay finally got to the serious stage, the older man came to an unpleasant realisation: he wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of this encounter. Yes, however tempting Iliya looked sprawled on the bedsheets, however shameless his moans and pleas were, however selflessly Q served him with his mouth, hands and hips, the only thing that got excited was his’s aesthetic taste.
Good thing Iliya didn’t notice his partner’s body lose interest before he fell asleep.
For the first time in a long while Q craved a stimulant. Caffeine, sugar, nicotine. Anything to dispel the dark cloud of the nasty disillusionment: the man he was in love with wasn’t going to keep him happy in the bedroom.
Could they work up to that? Perhaps. But despite Q’s best efforts to hint at wanting to be pushed around, submitted and taken over, Iliya only saw them as cute meaningless teasings, and insisted on being the one who was being serviced.
Could he deal with that? Wasn’t Iliya worth it?
Q sighed and climbed out of bed to look at the night city.
He should be grateful. It wasn’t a big deal, was it? As long as Iliya was happy, he could cope. He could always satisfy his own fantasies alone or with a simulation.
Which was the same thing really.
The ever-clear skies were getting greyish, which meant the night was coming to an end.
Ashtapadans lived almost throughout the whole day-night cycle, taking advantage of the safety of the night city and the mild climate that made being outside comfortable the whole year-round. The people below seemed impossibly small from the high floor but somehow as far away from Q as the perfect person in his bed just a couple steps away.
His bedroom wasn’t empty. But it felt dead.
Well, time for some work.
The only stimulant that was available.
Better do another round of checking the system status, or go through the surveillance cameras again. That would help him take his mind off of the swarm of the dark thoughts in his head.
The Turk was already sitting on the edge of the table, as if it had heard Q’s steps towards the room. Without any need to use the auglasses to see the little assistant, the man stretched his lips in a greeting, but the hologram’s facial recognition algorithms were too good.
“Not what you expected?” it asked, head tilted questioningly to the side.
“Please, T, I’m not in the mood,” Q said, plopping himself into the chair in defeat.
Had the Turk been listening? Hadn’t he closed the bedroom door?
“Alright, as you say. What can I help you with?” the simulation readily offered.
The man considered what could be the best course of action.
“Just run a check-up and notify me if anything is out of the ordinary,” he ordered. “Meanwhile, show me the main nodes and facilities’ cameras.”
“On it,” — the Turk froze for a moment, loading the 3D map on the desk that came to life, painting Q’s tired face with a blue hue, his sharp cheekbones and eyebags suddenly casting deep shadows.
Finally with something familiar to do, Q got to the methodical analysis of each of the critical points in the system, checking the logs and cameras in order. He knew that this process was supposed to be automatic as the AI ran diagnostics 24/7 without his help, but didn’t it mess up just yesterday? He could stumble upon another conspirators ring or a critical issue that the automatic process might have missed. A little double check never hurt.
After a while of watching its young master, the Turk spoke again, “There’s a couple of issues at the corn processing factory, and an incident with a cargo hound. The first problem is being dealt with and the hound is getting back to the main transport node and then to the repair facility to get fixed.”
So, nothing too serious, huh. Ashtapada ran like a clock. There had to be something he could be useful for though!
“What’s wrong with the hound?”
“It somehow got its front camera broken. Body sensors say there’s been an impact.”
“And the cargo?”
“Undamaged. The hound is going to be repaired and its logs loaded into the system for investigation and diagnostics. I’ll send you the report as soon as it gets generated.”
“Alright. What about the factory?”
“A couple of saccharification containers had a leak because of a pressure jump, the repair hounds already took care of that.”
Well, the system could at least to pretend to wait for Q’s order to send the hounds!
Realising where his thoughts were going, he immediately felt pathetic.
He wasn’t any kind of god, he didn’t even control the system in the slightest. The fact that he was allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of Ashtapada was a privilege, easily taken away if he wasn’t careful. But he needed to do something useful even if it was mere supervision.
“Turk,” he sighed. “Show me the saccharification containers.”
“Who are you talking to?” — came a sleepy voice from the door frame that Q couldn’t help but tune into immediately, like a mother hearing her baby’s crying.
Iliya was standing at the door, his ethereal silhouette pale against the dark rectangle. A loose sheet hugged his hips in a mock attempt at modesty that put a warm smile on Q’s lips.
“Just doing a bit of work, Cuddles, I’m talking to the system.”
“But where’re your glasses?” Iliya asked, coming closer, watching the desk curiously. For his bare eyes, it was lit up but didn’t display any sort of information, a normal person would need a pair of auglasses for that.
“I’m just using the voice recognition mode,” the man lied. “Bright light hurts my eyes.”
Iliya hummed in acknowledgment and came in, dragging the sheet behind like a very lewd wedding gown. Q’s unsatisfied hunger immediately stirred his insides, prompting him to tap his lap in invitation and get a couple of spare auglasses from the drawer at the same time.
“Come here, Cuddles, I’ll show you something amazing,” he lured, watching his lover gracefully approach.
He was so damn lucky to have this man in his life.
“More amazing that you’ve already shown me?” Iliya teased. He straddled Q’s lap, a warm back to a firm chest, and put the glasses on, instantly going “Whoahhh!” at what he saw.
“If the AI is the brain of Ashtapada,” Q murmured into his ear, hoping to sound seductive and not all lecture-y. “This is its heart.”
His arms instantly laced themselves around the narrow waist that clung to the warmth of Q’s body as Iliya’s buttocks teasingly shifted on his quickly heating seat.
“Amazing!” the boy breathed out, not failing to notice a warm palm snaking its way up his belly in a lazy motion. “Are those hounds? They look like ants from this angle.”
This awe-struck delight in the lecture hall and in the bedroom alike never failed to put a smile on Q’s face.
What they saw generated as a live 3D visualisation was indeed amazing. An enormous underground space, millions of tons of concrete shaped a little like a heart chamber with huge arteries of four main semi-circular tunnels coming out. The space was filled with hounds of various sizes hurrying to deliver the cargo, all sorts of pipes, wires and conveyor belts. The whole place seemed buzzing with activity even though the hologram didn’t generate any sound.
“Look,” Q pointed at one of the “arteries” with his free hand as the other caressed Iliya’s chest with the tips of the fingers. “This is the cargo sorting center. A hound that needs to transport something drops it off at this belt and it goes to the other part of the city to be picked up by another one.”
Iliya interlaced their fingers on his chest and showed his appreciation with a little wiggle of his hips in Q’s lap again.
God, he was temptation in the flesh.
“And this?” the boy asked innocently.
“Where the hounds go? This is the repair and modification facility. Here they automatically get diagnostics, maintenance and updates.”
“So cool!” — another brain-melting wiggle. — “And this?”
“This... ahh... This leads to the bio-ethanol factory,” — it was harder and harder to focus on the educational task and keep hands above the desk. — “See these pipes? They carry the fuel to the rest of the critical parts of the city.”
“And this last tunne... aahh! Q!”
“What? I’m just hoping for a little guided tour myself,” the man breathed into Iliya’s ear.
“Under my sheet?” he scolded coquettishly and last remnants of Q’s self-restraint ran dry in an instant.
“Let’s see if I can find my way without a map,” — he growled as his hands lost all shame and together with the mouth got to work on the treasure in his lap.
Hopefully, the Turk had enough decorum to disengage a while ago.
Like this, encompassed from all sides, the little prince was helpless to escape his teacher’s caresses. Encouraged by the writhing of the young body and the soft gasps, Q let his fingers tentatively slip under the bed sheet around the boy’s hips to find the hot hardness that already was leaking wet into the fabric. It was easy to lay back on the chair’s reclining support, making Iliya lose his balance and fall on the broad chest with a little endearing yelp. Like this, both of Q’s hands could explore what was to be had as he firmly grasped the already damp length as the other hand’s finger curled into the inviting heat of the place he had pleasured earlier that night.
“There, put your feet on my desk,” he whispered into Iliya’s neck between gentle bites, his own arousal catching up with his actions in a smothering wave that left him panting. “You’re so good and open for me like this, Cuddles.”
“Mmmhh…” the boy in his arms whined, doing as he was told, presenting a shameless picture of long graceful legs lecherously spread over the edge of the desk, with the other’s hands disappearing under the sheet around his hips. “What… ah… are you doing?”
Q let his finger slip into the tight heat just a little even though his lover was still wet from earlier, giving a couple of pumps with the other hand to admire the motions of his hands that looked deliciously lewd hidden like this under the fabric.
“It’s you who I must ask this question, my dear,” he went on, pushing the finger in and out slowly, circling the tip with his thumb to elicit another whine and a keen buckle of the other’s hips. “Do you know what you do to me, squirming like that in my lap? Do you know what your innocent sounds make me feel? Have you got the slightest idea how thoroughly your beauty ruined me?”
With those last words Iliya’s tortured motions halted. His mouth, too, stopped the soft panting and before Q knew it, the boy recovered his balance with the grace of a dancer he was, slipping away from his hands.
“What? Iliya? Did I hurt you?” he said hurriedly, his hands still itching to grab and squeeze and caress.
Iliya indeed looked hurt and indignant, and not in his usual flirty way. He stood a couple of steps away, and wrapped his bed sheet around his chest, as if protecting his assaulted innocence.
“Look, Q,” he said with a somber look in his eyes. He had never spoken like this before. — “I told you twice today to stop calling me beautiful. Why do you keep on doing it?”
“I… Did you? I... sorry, I thought you were just being coy,” Q scrambled for words, still sprawled on the chair, unsure what to do with his hands. “I’ll stop if you want.”
Oh, no. Had he ruined everything? So soon?
Iliya didn’t look impressed in the least.
“Listen, I told you I want you to stop but you ignored me,” he went on, clearly annoyed, pointing at the wall of the room where they started the evening. “I tried to be delicate, but looks like it takes me raising my voice for you to get it. It’s like you don’t see anything past my looks, just like everyone else!”
His student was indeed beautiful, even like this, looking daggers at him, but Q had the presence of mind to bite his tongue before letting it out. He just raised his palms in an attempt to reconcile.
“You’re right, Iliya,” — was it too much to call him Cuddles at a moment like this? — “I thought it was a simple compliment, but I should’ve listened to you the first time. I promise it won’t happen again. Come back to me?”
Iliya seemed hesitant for a moment looking at Q’s outstretched hands, the wetness of his body still lingering on his teacher’s fingers. The room wasn’t dark any more: the sun had spilled onto the walls and the furniture inside in an angry splatter of red.
“No. Sorry, but not now. You asked me not to call you Teach and I dropped it instantly. Because I respect your boundaries. Can’t you do the same for me?”
This was it. He did ruin everything.
Q’s shoulders drooped as he let his arms fall together with his gaze in defeat.
“You’re right, Iliya. It looks like I didn’t respect them. I apologise and hope you can forgive me.”
It was hard not looking at Iliya’s face, but it was terrifying to lift his eyes and meet something he wouldn’t be able to handle. What was in the other’s face? Hurt? Disgust? Resentment?
What was he supposed to say? To do? Was it over without even properly starting?
“It’s ok, Q,” Iliya’s voice came. It sounded a little choked, like the boy was forcing himself to calm down. “It’s new for both of us. I accept your apologies, but...”
But...?
But...?!
But what?
“...but I need some space right now. I‘ll go. I’ll see myself out,” he finished sternly, as if forcing himself into the firm tone.
“Of course,” Q said weakly, daring a glance at his Cuddles, wondering at the newfound depths of the other.
He’ll learn how to be the best partner for Iliya. He’ll have to.
“Thanks,” — the boy left the room to get his things and in a matter of minutes was already at the front door, hesitant. “Thanks again, I’ll see you... around, bye!”
Q covered his eyes with both hands and it wasn’t to block the bright sunlight that now filled the whole airy space with a blinding brilliance.
See him... around?

This post is in response to numerous other posts and comments from others in the community that look to still be confused as to what the Elden Ring is, how it works, and how it fits within the lore of the game. A quick disclaimer - I by no means claim to be an expert on Elden Ring lore and do not wish to come off seeming like I know everything, but do feel confident in my analysis of the game's lore as I have been involved in the community since the game's release as well as other Fromsoft game lore communities in the years prior. I am 100% open to being corrected and/or proven wrong. I will also be getting into a bit of speculation towards the end, but will try to keep most of this post as factual as possible. Also, I just recently graduated with a degree in archaeology and Nordic studies, so that is the perspective I have played the game with, just for reference. With that being said, lets get into what the Elden Ring is.
This is perhaps the easiest question to answer and I am confident that most people can answer this correctly themselves, but for posterity's sake, lets go over the basics. Skip to the next paragraph if you get the gist. We know from items descriptions that the Elden Ring is the same as the Elden Beast, which was sent to the Lands Between by the Greater Will in the form of a falling star. So, at least to the denizens of the Lands Between, the Elden Ring arrived in the form of a star (I have already discussed in another post how the word "star" in Elden Ring may refer to any interstellar object in the sky). Beyond how the Elden Ring arrived in the Lands Between, we also know that the it is just as much a metaphysical concept as it is a physical object. The Elden Ring itself is made up of several runes, and each rune is the metaphysical embodiment of a concept that makes up the reality of the Lands Between. This is exactly similar to Younger and Elder Futhark - the ancient runic script of Nordic cultures in which each symbol is as much representative of a particular concept in Nordic culture as it is a particular phonetical sound in the ancient Nordic dialects (so each rune is as much a concept as it is a letter in their "alphabet"). In Elden Ring, for example, the Rune of Death was removed from the Elden Ring by Marika, so we see the concept of Death behave much more differently than we know it to in the real world as it is almost nonexistent in the game. Additionally, we see during Goldmask's questline that he is transcribing the words of the Greater Will through drawing out the sounds/runes with his finger which Brother Corhyn then translates much like the Fingerreader Crones translate the wiggling of the Two Fingers. All of this to say that the runes that make up the Elden Ring subsequently determine what makes up reality (and said runes can be altered/removed by whoever owns the Elden Ring, which in turn is why they are called a god) and that it was sent to the Lands Between by the Greater Will.
So after a decent bit of rambling, we have determined what the Elden Ring is and how it works. Now lets explore how it fits into the lore of the game and what better place to start than where the Elden Ring literally fits into. At the end of the game, we find Marika trapped within the Erdtree. Her body is broken and shattered - just like the Elden Ring - but more importantly, we see that within her body is housed the Elden Ring. Marika is frequently called the "Vessel of the Elden Ring" so it can be assumed that the god of the Lands Between must also house the Elden Ring within themselves. I will not speak on what that does to a person physiologically (I think we get a pretty good picture of that when we find Marika), but I do think that by using what we already know about the Elden Ring, we can possibly determine how it works within a living being and why it needs a host. This is also where I will begin getting into speculation, so hold onto your butts.
So we know that the Greater Will sent the Elden Ring to the Lands Between - we do not know why it did this, but clearly it wanted the Elden Ring to be found. We know that at one point in the past, the Elden Ring had a previous owner, and that the concepts that made up the world were likely different from what they are under Marika's rule. We know that a god of the Lands Between is only called a god if they are a vessel of the Elden Ring, which, as we have just previously determined, is a device of a higher poweWill that determines the make up of reality. We also know that there have been others that have been chosen by the Greater Will as potentials to become the next god/vessel of the Elden Ring, which becomes a bit suspicious when we realize that literally every Empyrean is doing everything they can to not become god, or rather, to not become the next vessel of the Elden Ring. The 3 current Empyreans we know of are Melania who shows absolutely no interest in godhood and is completely devoted to serving her twin brother, Miquella, who is clearly doing everything he can to not be like his mother (and I'm sure we will get a clearer understanding of his motives after the DLC releases), and Ranni who literally kills herself and one of her relatives to escape the fate of an Empyrean. One would think that being chosen as a potential for godhood would be a big deal and every Empyrean would be chomping at the bit to take Marika's place, but instead, none of them seem interested in the slightest. Miquella and Ranni are still interested in achieving godhood, but not if it involves becoming the vessel of the Elden Ring, which becomes doubly obvious when we note that both of them have divested themselves of their flesh so there would be literally no way they could harbor the Elden Ring within themselves.
All of this makes me believe that being the vessel of the Elden Ring and the direct vassal of the Greater Will is actually not desirable at all. Indeed, Marika was willing to destroy the Elden Ring along with herself to make sure it never happens again. This makes me think that being god under the Greater Will is not so great and that maybe it is called the "Greater Will" for a reason. The Elden Ring is a literal device sent by the GW and its alluring power grants whoever is willing to become its vessel immense power and abilities akin to godhood. But to me, I believe the sacrifice is greater than simply harboring an alien device in your body. Could it be that by making oneself the vessel of the Elden Ring, you are also giving up a portion of your free will to the Greater Will that now lives within you? Everyone always labels Marika as a villain, a mass murderer, and an abusive mother, but she also does the most selfless act in the lore by attempting to end the centuries of turmoil caused by the Elden Ring by attempting to destroy it and herself. Why would she have gone through the trouble of trampling the previous cultures of the Lands Between, uniting it under one rule, and birthing many successors only to destroy herself and everything she worked for in the end? It is my opinion that at times, her Will was not that of her own and that the Greater Will within her forced/manipulated/willed her to overthrow the Lands Between, conquering it all so that its Will could go unchecked and unchallenged. When Marika began to doubt herself and her actions, the Greater Will began choosing new candidates to replace her, knowing that only she had the power to betray it. I think the Greater Will never expected Marika to destroy the Elden Ring, herself, and everything she worked for, but after she did, the Greater Will abandoned the Lands Between, left Marika punished within the Erdtree, and left the world shattered and broken.
So with my speculation out of the way and to summarize, the Elden Ring is a device of the Greater Will's design, sent by the Greater Will to the Lands Between, determines what makes up reality based one the concepts that it itself is made up of, needs to be harbored within a living being, and said living being becomes a god to the people of the Lands Between by becoming the Elden Ring's vessel (plus some speculative side effects like losing one's free will and mass genocide). I specifically did not touch on a few points such as how Radagon fits into the picture as he is technically the vessel of the Elden Ring as well, but I chose to leave a few things out otherwise this post would be way longer than it already is. If you have read this far, thank you so much for reading. If you have thoughts, questions, criticisms, and/or corrections, I would love to hear from you in the comments.

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- - - - -
Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
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A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

Maybe hate is a bit strong, but I (18) am getting sick and tired of my friend's (19) low prioritization of me. This will probably end up being a little long and I'm sorry in advance, I just don't have anyone to talk to about this. Reddit kinda scares me but I really need some kind of third party advice, and maybe to vent a little. I'll keep the context as brief as possible, but I think a little bit of history is necessary to understand why I'm so irked. If you don't want to read it, though, it'll still make sense, so you can skip the next paragraph if you want.
Context: We've been friends since about 13 and have talked about every day for years, even if only for an hour or so. We bonded over our shared creativity of original characters and that's what's been the bulk of our conversation topics through the years, but we also talk about our lives and share events whenever something interesting or significant comes up. We'll also share smaller things like pictures of our pets. Typical stuff. I'm a very studious person, I prioritize schoolwork over friendship, but even when I'm in the midst of finals I've always made an effort to at least say hi in the chat every day, and for a long time we still talked for hours multiple times a week. I was literally doing assignments from 3 PM until 1 AM for years. Last year, I was completely drowning in schoolwork, and communicated so. For those 4 months or so, we didn't talk nearly as often, and that was the first occurrence of us losing daily communication for an extended period of time. Back to how our main conversation topic is our OCs, my friend--who I'll call Avery--started talking more to a friend--who I'll call Casey--that they had for a couple years and made a new OC world to talk about with them, point-blank telling me while we were hanging out that they needed someone to get their OC fix from. That was fine and understandable, basically just another way of saying they needed a friend to talk to more often. At that point school had lessened and we started talking a little more again. Except from that point on, conversation started to fall more and more on me. They no longer thought of "things" about their characters to tell me, which we'd both do frequently before. They no longer had anything interesting about their day to tell me. I had to reach out first a lot of the time, and when it was their turn to say hello they'd take a couple days. And it sucks a little, because they've effectively replaced me. Not even "almost," it's pretty literal.
Now fast forward to present, it's been about six months and school has been a lot easier. I mean I've had more time to myself than ever before and I actually have weekends again (who knew college would be easier). Avery didn't go to college, but has been helping their grandma out and living with her. Avery and Casey are now dating. Casey is very sweet, I like her, I have nothing against her at all. She's the best girlfriend Avery has had so far and they seem very happy. It's Avery I'm pissed at. I still reach out whenever it's my turn, but I am the one to think of conversation and Avery hasn't thought of a single thing to tell me about their life in the past two months. Casey is very clingy, and seems to message Avery multiple times a day, to which they'll respond and it seems like, from what I can tell, they talk almost every day. We haven't talked about our characters in months, and that singular occurrence that prevents that from being longer was short. Our conversations are often stilted by responses that are hours apart and dry responses that I can't continue the convo with. When I do the dry responses back, they don't bother trying to pick up the convo, but do another dry response and toss the ball back into my court. It's fucking tiring. Just last week they went to a convention and got a tattoo, but I didn't hear anything about this until we met up today and they only showed it to me after my mom pointed it out. Their first tattoo was of my art (which was sweet), but I would've thought that getting another would be something notable enough to tell me? They showed me art they've done recently this time meeting up, and pulled it from a recent chat with Casey where they shared it with her. It's pretty clear she's the first one they go to with anything notable enough to talk about now, and I'm left with the "No, I don't really have anything to talk about"s.
The thing that makes this tricky is that I've talked to them about this several times before, and they acknowledged that they've been bad at reaching out, and implied that I'm still their favorite person and they try to prioritize me (which I did not ask, they said on their own). When we meet in person we get along great, but talking online is fucking abysmal now. They are a very flaky person in general, with low general drive to do anything and a low attention span. I think a lot of this is that their girlfriend simply takes up a lot of brain space, and whatever duties they have helping out their grandma takes up a lot of their time. But I'm still pissed off because I've always made an effort to talk to and spend time with them, as much as I can, and I KNOW they have more time than I did then and have more than enough wiggle room in their schedule to make an effort to maintaining a friendship with them. Part of this might be that they take me for granted; we've been friends for a long time, and they probably don't think I'll ever fully leave their life. Maybe they're right, because our moms are friends. But I'm less attached than they probably think I am and I'm willing to drop them. I just don't know if I should really give them up yet, especially because of all the history between us. All I know is if this goes on much longer I'm going to, because now it's summer break and we have all the time in the world. If they can't make an effort now, they never will.

Kids are creepily good at making friends. (OP has a pic)
https://www.reddit.com/ParanormalEncounters/comments/1d53ed6/does_my_child_have_an_imaginary_friend_or_do_i/
Does my child have an imaginary friend or do I need to find an exorcist?May 31st 2024, 19:03, by Gloomy_cats
I never really post on here but I’m not sure where to turn with this. My daughter will be 4 in July and she has suddenly started talking about something called a woggle??? It started last night. She called me into her room to look at something. At first I thought I she just wanted me to get her a toy that she couldn’t reach. She said it was under her toy car at first and then when I moved it out of the way she said it was under her Christmas tree (she has a little one that stays up in her room). She kept saying “it’s right there” but I told her I couldn’t see what she was talking about. She said “it’s right there: the woggle”. I started pulling out toys to try to see what she was talking about to she kept saying no and that those are just toys. I said to her “If you see it then just grab it.” She said, “I can’t. His arms will get stuck and he’s gonna say ‘Let me go! Let me go!” She proceeds to wiggle her arms around and tell me his arms are like this while wiggling. Then she started looking for it under her bed. I wrote it off thinking she must have just been talking about a certain toy and I was just misunderstanding her. I decided to reach out to her teacher to see if maybe there was a movie character or something that I didn’t know about but she said she had no idea what she was talking about. Later that night, I’m tucking her into bed and ready to walk out of her room when she says “and woggle is gonna sleep in his bed tonight not my bed. And he’s gonna kiss his mommy goodnight.” Of course, as a mother my mind starts swirling and wondering is she talking about a man or is this just an imaginary friend? But she’s always with us and she goes to a home daycare that I trust wholeheartedly. there no way she could be talking about a person. I decided that this morning I wasn’t going to bring it up at all and I was just going to see if she brought it up on her own. I get her dressed and shut her door (she has a baby lock on her door). As we are getting ready to leave the house she says “I’m gonna go see woggle.” She runs to her door and sees that it’s closed and when she runs back over she says “my door is closed, woggle is in there.” Once we get in the car I call my husband to update him on this “woggle” and we decide to start asking more questions about it. When I asked her is he is little or big she said big. I asked if he is a person and she said no. I asked if he is an animal and she said no. I asked if he’s a monster and she said no. She said he lives in the ground. I asked if he’s dead and she said no. I asked if he’s a ghost and she said no. She then added that he is a boy who has a sister at home. She also stated that he goes to school and packs his backpack with crayons and toys. I have no clue where this is all coming from. I talked to her teacher about it at drop off this morning and asked her to see if she can find out more for me. A couple hours ago she sent a picture of my daughter drawing this “woggle”. It looks like a very unsettling stick figure with a dark face and wings maybe?? On top of this, her behavior is absolutely unhinged. Her teacher texted me this: “She is having one of those fits / screaming matches again. It started while we were making lunches. We are getting cleaned up now and then going down for nap, maybe she is tired? I thought she was hungry but she threw her sandwich and pushed everything off the table. She has been having a rough morning just screaming and yelling at everyone and everything. She randomly will laughing during it though? Nothing is making her happy..& is having a rough time with the other kids as well. Hopefully after nap she will be in a better mood! “ Please help I am honestly so perplexed and have no clue how to approach this. Lastly, her music box that she has for falling asleep plays twinkle twinkle little star and has now begun to sound distorted. I’m so confused…
submitted by Gloomy_cats [link] [comments]

This is my ficnapping of The Power of Forgiveness by u/Espazilious. If you're here and you haven't read it yet, (why?) do it now! Anyways, here it is.
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Memory Transcription Subject: Dan Hayes, Human Resident of Venlil 4
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Date (standardized human time): January 24th, 2137
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I woke unpeacefully, jolted awake by the doorbell going off. I stared at the ceiling for a good few moments, trying to banish the dreams that weren’t fading quickly enough and hoping whoever it was would go away. To the annoyance of my sleepy mind, the doorbell rang again.
I grumbled and yanked the blankets off me. Damn was it good to sleep in my own bed without an alien squeezing my lungs for hours. Speaking of, Sparci wasn’t in sight. The Farsul must have scampered off while I was still sleeping.
I groggily ambled around to the front door and unlocked it. Outside was a Venlil with an, admittedly, adorable little uniform. I looked down at the delivery person, having completely forgotten to put on my mask.
The poor sheep staggered backward as soon as they saw my face. There was also a box, markedly larger than I could comfortably carry. How the scrawny Venlil got it up here, I didn’t know. Nor did I really care.
“Hey, I almost forgot about this thing. Glad it's finally here, though,” I casually said. “You need me to sign anything?”
“U-Uh. Y-Yes. Please.” They raised their appendage with the holographic screen for me to see. I waved my finger around, signifying my identity with nought more than a single curvy line. They wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyways.
“Thanks.” I put my hands on either side of the box and tugged, sliding the box into my humble dwelling. I pushed the door shut before the Venlil could do anything else and began to shove it further into the main living space.
“What is that?” Sparci pondered, suddenly emerging from off the couch. He must have been reading, or something, while I was still asleep. At least I don’t have to worry about him answering the door, I suppose.
“What does it look like?” I retorted.
“A box.”
“Amazing.”
“Well…” he pouted. “What’s inside of it?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“The stuff that I have to ship across the damn galaxy and pay way too fucking much on shipping fees. All this crap is only found on Earth.”
He stood still for a moment, thinking of what to say. I waited patiently.
“Can… Can I see?”
I quickly grabbed a knife. I sliced through the tape, then slowly drew my gaze to Sparci. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Of c—Wait, why do you say it like that?”
“Once you lay your eyes on what’s in this box, you may never be the same.”
There was a twitch of his ears. “Uhm… Okay?”
I slowly lifted the lid, pausing for dramatic effect. Unfortunately, Sparci wasn’t playing along with my foreboding box unfolding. He took a few steps forward to peek inside as I began to dig through it.
The first thing in the box I spotted was a reflective mesh in the shape of a bowl; the ideal tool to teach those damn wet noodles a lesson. Never again.
I fished it out of the box and handed it to Sparci. “Here.”
His ears perked up. “What is this?”
“A hat,” I deadpanned. “You can wear it, if you want.”
He studied me. It took all of my willpower to keep every muscle in my face straight, and by some divine power, I managed to do it by the time he took it from my hand. I quickly looked away, doing my very best to not imagine him wearing a strainer atop his head.
After pulling out some less interesting items, including some spaghetti sauce, Sparci spoke, “I thought it would be more. Um. Comfortable?”
I looked up. Oh lord, forgive me, and bless this poor innocent soul.
His poor ears were being smushed against his head by the dome of shiny metal lattice. The rim of the thing came to a rest right at the end of his snout, leaving his eyes partially hidden. At least he could see me, a little. Overall, he looked exactly as I expected an alien wearing a strainer to look.
“Yeah,” I forced a laugh back into my throat. “Works better on a human, I think.”
He took it off and gave it back to me. “I want to see.”
I spun it around in my hands, contemplating his words. It would only be fair. In a decidedly smooth motion, I flipped it onto my head, feeling the metal scratch against my scalp. He studied me, hopefully in awe, but realistically in confusion.
In a strange burst of compulsion, I tipped the rim at Sparci. “M’lady.”
“What?”
Immediate regret. “Nothing.”
“Is that a human greeting?”
“No. And don’t ever repeat what I just said. Ever.”
His ears pulled back in what I guessed to be fear, or maybe shock. “O-Okay.”
I quickly yanked the strainer off my head and threw it into the kitchen. I was aiming for the sink, but it came short and clattered to the floor in a mocking fashion.
“Anyways,” I resumed. “Let’s see what else I got.”
Before I could look back in the box, Sparci was already pointing inside of it. “What are those?”
He was motioning towards a brightly colored package full of sugary treats. “Those are gummy b-” I stopped myself. Would it be wrong to lie about what the shapes represented? Would it be worth it to see if he liked them? The answer to both questions was, undoubtedly, yes.
“They’re gummy candies,” I continued, reaching for the package. “You wanna try one?”
“Yes. Please.”
I ripped open the package and handed him a small yellow bear; the worst flavor. He took it, and while I popped a green one into my mouth he spun it around in his paw.
“What is it supposed to look like? It’s almost like a Zurulian.”
I frowned, realizing I was worried about the wrong thing. “Um. These have existed for far longer than we’ve been spacefaring, so that’s just a coincidence.”
“But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
Damnit. How do I explain this to him? A predator eating a candy version of another predator. That’s about as bad as it can get for these aliens.
“I dunno,” I said. “People just make weird stuff sometimes. Give it a try.”
He gingerly placed it into his mouth and began to chew. He eventually swallowed it, without much reaction.
“No reaction at all?”
“Sugar,” he admitted.
“Yeah, fair enough.” I put the gummy bears on the counter and began to dig through the box again. My eyes fell upon something I had forgotten I’d been looking forward to. “Alright, I think you’re gonna like this next thing I got.”
“Hm. What is it?”
I twisted the lid off and pulled off the seal, exposing the hopefully creamy peanut butter. I paid extra for this, so it better be worth it. I noisily dug out a spoon from the drawer and stuck it into the semisolid, pulling out a nice dollop of it. As I offered it to Sparci, I had to forcibly stop myself from simply wiping it on his nose and letting him deal with the aftermath.
He gingerly took the spoon from me, giving it a sniff. “It smells… interesting.”
“I did a quick look-through on any dietary limits… mainly allergies. You should be good to go but… maybe just take a tiny lick for now.” When his ears folded in that special way, I quickly added, “It’s nothing to worry about, really.”
He stuck his tongue out the tiniest amount, taking just a drop of it into his mouth. His ears twitched, and in the time I could blink he shoved the entire spoon into his mouth.
“Itsh shticky in my mouf.”
I let out a small chortle, to my own disbelief. “Yeah, it, uh, tends to be that way. I take it you like it?” It was a dumb question, but it would make him talk with his mouth full again.
Instead, he nodded, foiling my plan. When did he learn to do that?
“You can put the spoon in the sink. When you’re done, I mean.”
He pulled it out of his mouth, completely spotless. “Can I haf shum more?”
I twisted the cap back onto the jar with vehemence. “Hell no. Do you know what this is? This is Extra Deluxe Creamy. With shipping, that’s at least six times what normal peanut butter costs. Go get your own.”
“Meow?”
“It’s less cute when your mouth is full of peanut butter,” I lied. “Try again later.”
To say he looked crestfallen would be a massive understatement. I set the jar on the counter, and made a mental note to hide it on the top shelf of a cabinet. The sneaky shit was bound to try and find it at some point.
When I got back to the box, Sparci was looking into it. He pointed at something. “What are those?”
I took out what he was referring to. “Socks.”
“Sawwcks,” he repeated. “You wear them?”
“Yeah. I need socks for my shoes and shoes for my feet. It stops me from doing that,” I gestured at the small trail of paw marks leading from the front door he’d left after the storm.
He coyly lowered his ears. “S-Sorry.”
“Whatever.” I took the package of socks and threw them into my room. I had no idea where they landed. Had to keep things entertaining for my future self, of course.
I shuffled through the rest of the box, mostly innocuous items that were apparently the most interesting thing in the world according to Sparci.
After many questions and explanations and objects thrown into my room, I finally got to what I had really been looking forward to.
“Alright, these last few things I got specifically for you.”
He dropped the pair of sunglasses he was trying to fit on his face and scurried over to me. I reached into the box and pulled out the two books. I gave them a quick look-through before giving them both to Sparci.
His expression changed several times. “What…?”
“Coloring books.”
He began to look through one of them, tail flicking with eagerness. “I recognize some of these…”
“They’re both full of animals you would find on Earth.”
He was already flipping through the second book. “There’s so many!”
I smiled. “Well, I sure hope so. There aren’t many dogs or cats, or raccoons for that matter, but I think the variety makes up for it. Oh, and don’t forget these.” I reached for the last item in the box, a 48-pack of not-so-cheap markers, and gave them to him.
His eyes sparkled as he took it into his paws, flicking over each color. “These are…”
“Better than crayons,” I finished. “And I rightfully paid for them, so you don’t need to worry about that. Oh, and I hope they aren’t too… childish? The last time I touched a coloring book was… well, I guess I don’t know, but I figured one from an alien planet would be interesting.”
His eyes looked back and forth between the books and the markers, as if he couldn’t decide which one was better.
“…do you want to go color?”
“Mhm!”
He took off. It was good to see him move so enthusiastically. What he revealed to me the night before still weighed on my mind, and he was the one that had to live through it. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. It was time for the Happy, and damn if I wasn’t going to get it.
I joined him at the table as he was flipping through pages, trying to make a choice. He managed to pick a sea turtle. Or perhaps “choose” was a strong word, as he took on a more confused expression.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I just realized I don’t know what color to pick.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I could search up a picture or a video of one. Or maybe you could color it what you think is right, and we can compare after.”
“Hmmm. The second option. But can you tell me what kind of animal this is? It doesn’t look like any of the ones from your videos.”
“It’s a sea turtle. They’re reptiles, and they spend most of their time in the ocean.”
His ears drooped. “The… ocean.”
Oh. Of course. The Archives.
“There’s plenty of kinds of turtles that live in freshwater, like rivers and lakes. If you want to color it, do it. Nothing else should matter.”
“I… guess you’re right.” He thought for a long moment before his gaze settled back on me. “Do you… want to color something?”
“Sure. Why not.”
He passed the other book to me and began to dig through the markers. He settled on orange, which I of course would not weigh in on. If anything, I was curious what he thought a turtle might look like. Plus, I would get to see what his reaction would be to seeing how the real thing compared to his colors.
I decided to pick a random color and flip to a random page. Filling in a bunch of smaller shapes to create one larger shape wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing. Although, an alien coloring book would certainly be more interesting. Maybe I should’ve looked into getting a coloring book from one of the local stores. What would aliens decide worthy of coloring?
My random choice left me creating a grass green moose. Earth grass, that is. Not some weird purple alien stuff from God knows where. Sparci was already diving into one of the turtle’s now orange flippers.
“You have any music on your pad you might wanna listen to?” I asked, the silence slowly becoming loud.
He stopped coloring and looked up at me, his brows furrowing and ears tilting back. “I’m, uh, not sure you would enjoy it.”
“You listened to me ramble on about Esoterica for a good two hours. I can at least repay the favor. Plus, I’d like to think that I’m pretty open to new music.”
He thought for another moment.
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Advancing transcript by ≈50 minutes
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“Oh! This is another really good one!” Sparci’s ears wiggled and his tail picked up some speed as another track came on. He replaced his marker for a different color.
I still hadn’t finished my green moose, and he was already on his fourth page. The other three he removed from the book and laid out across the table to see. There was his orange and brown sea turtle, a blue elephant with a cyan trunk, a school of fish colored to create a rainbow across the page, and was now working on a fairly normal looking cheetah.
“So how long ago did this one come out?” I queried.
He didn’t look up from his page. “This specific one came out around thirty years ago, but it’s a remix. The original came out about eight years before that. I can find the original if you want, but I prefer the remix, not that it’s worse, but I think the different bassline and effects they added make it just a little more to my taste. Oh, and they also replaced one of the verses with a new portion by a different singer, and it’s a lot catchier, and they manage to do that all while keeping the feeling of the song the same.”
I nodded along to the quick beat, but the translator left something to be desired. The lyrics talked about the incredulous nature of giving a ground mammal wings to fly, or something. The instrumentals were catchy enough, a blend of strings and synths. It was almost like listening to a foreign pop song.
“It sounds… kinda similar to something. Is-”
“It’s part of the same album as Teleport, so also the same artist. But like I said, it’s also a remix.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
I still couldn’t get over just how much he could talk when he was prompted with a set of ears and something he liked. And that wasn’t even mentioning that he had talked for nearly seven hours straight the moment he got his pad’s data back. Getting that worked out was probably the best thing that anyone could have done for him. It was good to see him like this. Enjoying himself.
I finished up the final details on my green moose. By stroke of my random color choice, it had bright red antlers, even though I wasn’t exactly going for a holiday theme.
I spun the book around to Sparci. “What do you think? Is it fridge-worthy?”
He slowly pulled his head up even as his eyes lingered on his page. Once he finally finished filling in the shape, he looked over my page. He stopped wagging his tail to the beat of the song. “What is that?”
“A moose.”
His ear twitched. “That’s what it looks like?”
“Hey, I didn’t judge your coloring.”
“That looks nothing like the other animals I’ve seen.”
“What did you expect? I chose random colors.”
The other ear twitched. “But aren’t you supposed to know what they look like?”
“First of all, that’s very prejudiced of you. Secondly, it was a lot more fun this way. Here, I’ll show you what an actual moose looks like.”
I pulled out my pad and quickly looked for a picture. A moment later, I had it pulled up and Sparci was looking at the animal with awe.
“That one’s brown,” he commented.
“Correct.”
“Its head things are big.”
“Yep. I should also mention that they’re huge. Like, as tall as I am, and about five times as heavy.”
His eyes went wide. “How big is its body!?”
I resisted the strong urge to slap my forehead. “No, it’s body is as tall as I am. Its antlers put it a little bit higher.”
His shock died down slightly. “Oh. That’s still huge.”
“Wait until you learn about the elephant you colored.”
His eyes darted between his colorings. “Wha…?”
I stuffed my pad away. “Welp. I think I’m done coloring. And I’m also hungry. You want some questionable fruit goop oatmeal?”
He perked a single ear. “Uhm. Yes. Please.”
I got up from my seat and shuffled into the kitchen, picking up the strainer off the floor. I put away the rest of the things, making damn sure the peanut butter was tucked away in the corner of the highest shelf of a cabinet.
I was reaching for the oatmeal when I noticed the music had paused. I looked over, seeing Sparci standing in the kitchen.
“Do you want me to show you an elephant?” I guessed.
“No. I mean, yes, but… I…” His tail twitched restlessly.
I patiently waited.
He took a breath. “Thank you. For, um, everything.”
I shrugged. “You’re welcome. But you’ll have to thank me again soon, because this oatmeal is going to be fire.”
“You… You didn’t have to do this.”
I shrugged again, setting a pot on the stove. “I was just ordering some normal stuff, and had the thought to get a pair of coloring books. It’s not that big of a deal.”
His tail curled around his leg. “But, everything else.”
I guessed even little things could mean the absolute world to someone when they were coming back from what Sparci had gone through. Was still going through.
I sighed. “Yeah. You’re welcome for everything else, too. Thanks for sharing the music. It’s, uh, definitely alien music.” Is that even a compliment?
He seemed to hesitate for a second before coming further into the kitchen towards me. His arms parted slightly, and before I knew it he had them wrapped around me. I mirrored the motion, placing my hands on his back and gently rubbing.
There was something ever so slightly different in him at that moment, as if he was more sure of how he leaned into the hug. His warmth slowly seeped into me, starkly contrasting how cold he had been when I carried him from that alley, broken and bruised.
“Thank you,” I heard him whisper.
I simply rubbed his back and let him pull away on his own. I hadn’t even realized how quiet it was without the music.
I cleared my throat. “Alright, lemme get this oatmeal going before you get hair everywhere.”
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A/N: Oh my goodness, give this poor boy everything I have. He deserves the world. Strainers, peanut butter, my soul, whatever. And, of course, some coloring books and a good playlist to share.
Thanks to for organizing yet another ficnapping! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[Steady beeping sound]
[Window Opens]
[Listener climbs through it. Walks across the room.]
[Window slams shut. Multiple locks around the room engage.]
[Beeping stops.]
Do you know how rescuers save a feral momma cat- Ah! Ah. Put. The Knife. Down. Your claws won’t help you here Kitten. You’ll just find yourself in an even more stressful situation. Hiss and spit all you want. But don’t scratch, and especially don’t bite. Got it?
Hmph. You’re not moving so I’m going to assume that if I stay over here I’m safe. Does that sound fair to you? [Sarcastic] Chatty, aren’t you? Well luckily for you I can talk for the two of us. [Sits down] Look, I’m sitting down now. All nice and relaxed. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. Especially if you keep standing all rigid like that. We have all the time in the world to sit and get to know each other a little better. Okay?
I’ll take your silence as a yes. As I was saying. The best way to rescue a feral momma cat is to catch all her kittens first. The kittens are easier to find and aren’t as fast. Preferring to hide and get out of reach if they can. The Momma however would rather lead you away from the kittens and as you so pointedly demonstrated, has the claws and teeth to defend herself.
To catch the Momma, you need one of her kittens. Put the kittens in their own cage, and prop up a larger one on top of that. When she comes to investigate their cries, drop the cage. The kittens can’t run off and are protected when the momma inevitably freaks out, and the Momma gets caught. Ready to receive medical treatment, be spayed- [Listener shifts back]
[Brief pause]
…All that Jazz. Obviously that last one doesn’t apply to you. You are very much human. But the comparison is apt. Far more apt than the “Rats in the walls” that the paper has decided would be a fitting name for your gang. With you as the “Rat King” I think. Didn’t really read much past that once I realized they were sensationalizing what you were. And what an awful name to call someone too. A “Rat King.” You’re not two kids under that cloak are you?
It matters because the name doesn’t fit unless you’re a bunch of people either stuck or working together. That’s why its an insult. Look. I can see you’re about to freak out. The kid you’re looking for is fine. In fact, [Rustles around] I think I have a remote- ah! [Clicks] There they are-
[Listener jumped when the TV turned on and threw a knife at it. Shattering the monitor.]
Ohkay, nothing fragile around you then. Glad damaging the screen doesn’t wreck the actual device. Anyway, looking past the shattered glass, what can you see? Well. You threw the knife at the picture of your own kid but- oh! Nevermind. There he is. That’s a playroom, by the way. In case you’ve never seen one. Depending on your behavior you might join him there. You and all the other little rascals we’re rounding up right now.
Yes yes your whole operation has been found out. Once we found one of your bolt holes, it was easy to find the rest. Since, you literally left instructions for the kids to find the other ones. Rotations. Backup plans. We’ll catch all your kittens in no time. Just wait and see.
[Listener charges at him]
[He gets up. Scuffling sounds. Primarily wrists cracking against wrists as he deflects the listeners blows]
[As they’re fighting] Right! Right right right I forgot. My bad. I should have gained your trust first before dangling the rest of the kids in front of you. That’s on me. Thing is- [Catches Listener by the wrist, twists them around, and holds them with their arms pinned to their back] Stealing from the rich means it was only a matter of time before someone smart enough or angry enough tried to smoke you out. Really should have stuck to raiding the middle class I mean, less bang for your buck but at least they don’t have the resources- or the ego- to track down who dared to steal from them. Be glad it was me who caught you, and not someone more sadistic.
[Listener struggles. Trying to pull away.]
Uh hahaha, no. My dear. You’re not getting away. Not this time. Not until I decide its safe for me to let you go. That you won’t attack me, my staff, or yourself in your panic to get out of here. And I’ll know you won’t do that when you stop lashing out like a cat and start behaving like a human. Got it?
[Listener goes limp]
Good. Now. I’m going to take the knife. You are going to sit. And we are going to talk. Okay? Like two human beings. Understood?
Use your voice.
Good. [Takes the knife. Sheathes it. Ties some string around it so it can’t be drawn again.] That should keep your claws tucked away without removing them entirely. I’m not that cruel. Here. You can even have it back- ah! But it is to stay tied into that sheath and tucked away, got it? Good. Here you go.
Now sit.
[Listener sits]
Good Kitten. [He sits]
Good question. What do I want? I guess my poor bleeding heart couldn’t handle the idea of my fellows catching and torturing a literal bunch of kids.
Oh technically you’re not a kid. But just because you’re the oldest and therefore their de facto caretaker and ringleader does not actually make you an adult. Deep down under that hostile exterior is a kid just as frightened as the rest of-
[Listener scrambles to the other side of the couch in a panic]
Ah. [Sympathetic] I struck a nerve, didn’t I? I didn’t mean- [Catches himself. Clears throat. Reasserts himself] Anyway, that was easy to draw out now wasn’t it? Its always sad when a cat has to care for kittens when she is barely more than a kitten herself. At least you, a fellow bleeding heart, chose to care for these kittens on your own, right? Riiiight?
Okay good. See? We’re making progress already.
[With humor] Suspicious as ever. With training you to be human of course. The children of your little gang won’t need much besides getting used to the idea of sitting somewhat still and paying attention. Then we can just give them a normal education like the rest of their peers. You on the other hand, Feral Momma that you are, need some special attention and some special tools to help you learn to live among polite society.
I’m giving you your life back is what I mean. Or rather, I’m giving you the life you should have had in the first place. Better. Even. I can and will find you and your friends-
No. As of this moment they’re your friends. Not your kids. Got it?
Hmph. We’ll have to work on that. Much, much farther down the road though. As I was saying. You will have the best education anyone can have. Any hobbies or fields that pique your interest? You will have all the resources to explore it. You’ll never have to worry about money or food or clothes. I’ll make sure you have all you need and more.
Because I want to earn your trust. Not that I have any illusions of gaining it anytime soon, but I want to establish a baseline going forward. If I break this most fundamental part of our relationship, I no longer deserve your trust. That doesn’t mean I’ll give you all the candy that you want. But you’ll never go to bed hungry either. How does that sound?
No catch. Or- well. Hm. I suppose there is one thing. [Opens a box] See this? It's funny, actually. Your little thief tried to snatch exactly this when he fell into my trap. Sure its a pretty enough little trinket. Pawning it off would have gotten you mmm, maybe a week- Ah. I’m guessing by your expression it would be less. Just how many kids are in your gang anyway? … Kitten. How many kids. Are in your Gang. [Sighs] You don’t have to answer. Its clear enough already you bit off way more than you could chew in that regard.
We’ll deal with that another time. For now, I want you to look at me and more importantly back to my pocketwatch. You see, being gold plated and embedded with jewels makes it worth a lot. But that’s not why I bought it. That’s not why any of my peers were trying to buy it either.
Its easy enough to con the rich. Sell them just the right story and they’ll buy anything you offer to them. The smart ones check the backstory. And oh let me tell you this has gone on some adventures indeed.
This, when held, gives its wielder the power to hypnotize.
Trick shows? I don’t- ah. Street Lingo. No. Not at all like that. I won’t wave this in front of your face and order you to make a fool of yourself. This is the real deal, my Dear. At its baseline, I can make you fall into a pseudo trance. Just dazed and unaware until something snaps you out of it. Handy, for a thief like you. Important for an emergency I think. In case you get into any real trouble. But with practice, and a target paying attention, I can make you fall into a real trance. Limp, and unaware, and unable to wake up without my say so.
With experimentation and skill? Well. I know you read papers too. That Mr. Maestro is a real scary guy huh? His poor assistant. I wonder who she was before he got his hands on her. Who any of his servants were, before they fell under his gaze. You don’t need to worry about that though. You’ll remember, and I won’t change a single thing about you. I promise. I won’t even make you be obedient with one, single exception. That you’ll come when called. And even that will have caveats. Okay?
Good question. I’m going to use this to slip past your guard and teach you how to relax. And after I teach you how to relax, I’ll teach you how to trust. And then except for any particularly unhealthy behaviors you struggle to unlearn and with your permission, I won’t have to use it ever again now will I?
Yes. Outside of “Don’t act like a feral animal” this is my only condition for seeing your gang. Is that amenable to you? [Before the listener can panic] You can take your time deciding, by the way. I don’t want to throw you into a panic and-
Okay then. We can start tomorrow-
Are you sure? You can take as much time as you need to get ready.
Very well then. Get comfortable. Like you’re about to go to sleep.
No, you don’t need to look at me. Or the pocket watch. You just need to be able to hear the sound of my voice. If you don’t think you can get comfortable enough- I know this is a strange place so, someone like you would probably struggle to feel safe enough to sleep here- don’t worry about it. That’s part of the watch’s power. Its safer and easier for you to be prepared, however. Brute forcing it has the potential to do some damage.
[Listener shifts around, getting comfortable]
You ready? Don’t need blankets or anything? No? Okay then.
[tone that indicates the watch has activated]
I want you to focus on… hm. Let’s see here. I can see your eyes are open so, pay attention to the area right in front of you.
Yes this is part of the hypnosis. I’m trying to teach you something okay? Just relax and follow my lead. Don’t second guess. Just do. Got it? Now, where was I…
Focus on the area right in front of you. You’ve probably never seen it before, so this should be pretty easy to grasp what I’m trying to say.
I want you to investigate it closely. Really look at all its little nooks and crannies. All its little details. Every imperfection you can see. What is its texture? How do you think it would feel to run your fingers over it? What is its smell.
If you can, I want you to reach out and touch the object. Lightly. Carefully. Just enough to get a sense of its texture. Really pay attention to how it feels against your skin.
This is called Mindfulness. Its a skill you will find very useful day to day as we go forward. Even outside of hypnosis. Let me teach you why.
I want you to look at your hand now. Both of them, if you want. But its better to direct all of your attention to one.
Easy, easy. I can see you getting mad. Its okay. Don’t beat yourself up. Or you can be mad at me that’s fine. Everytime you find your thoughts drifting away from the object of your attention though, I want you to bring them right back okay? Like… sliding a moving object across a desk. You do it often enough, it becomes routine. Now, back to your hand.
Look at your fingers. See the way they hang when you hold your hand up? How the weight of the tips affect each joint, up to your palm? Notice all the little lines. The swirls of your fingerprints. The boxes made by each tiny crease. Did you ever notice that before now, I wonder. How your fingers are divided by boxes within boxes below the first joint. All the way down to the individual cells most likely.
Now lets look at your palm. Its so different from your fingers isn’t it? While your fingers have some wobbly lines, they’re still straight and are either horizontal or vertical. Not your palm though. The lines on your palm go all over the place. All kind of angles, and never straight either. There are even swirls, and circles if you look close enough. Just like your fingerprints.
Now lets pull back, and look at the front of your hand as a whole. Notice the structure of it. All the joints. Wiggle your fingers for me, will you? Did you ever notice before, that there’s a sensation as you move your fingers? That if you pay attention to a specific digit, you can feel the individual muscles responding to your call? Moving under, and against your skin?
This is called Body Scanning. See, your brain receives input from your body all the time. You just don’t notice because your focus, that key component of mindfulness we learned earlier, was elsewhere. On more important things than the sensation of your fingers moving. But now they have all your attention and it puts that sensation under a microscope. Notice how you can only focus on one finger at a time, though. You can’t feel each individual muscle if you’re paying attention to the whole hand.
So it is with your whole body. If all your focus is on your stomach, you won’t notice a problem with your heart. If your focus is only ever focused outside, you won’t notice something wrong inside.
You need to give everything its due. Its own time. Its own place. But we’ll worry about that later. When you’re awake. When you feel safe.
For now, Direct your attention to your head. Your jaw. Let it relax so your teeth are not tight against each other. And, as with mindfulness, if you notice it tensing up again just let it relax, and move on.
Down, down to your neck- [Sound distortion as the listener drifts under hypnosis] Its okay to close your eyes. Its all part of the point. Let the muscles in your neck go limp. Feel free to shift if your head goes in an uncomfortable angle. [Listener shifts] Very good. Good Kitten. Good Kat. This next bit is trickier. Tense up your shoulders, all the way to your ears. Feel the muscles in them? Now let them slump. All the way down. Let your body tilt and fall, however it may. If you notice a muscle tensing up to hold your position, relax it. Let your body go completely limp on the couch. You are stable. You might feel strange like this. And its okay. This is what its like to be truly relaxed. To go to sleep.
Focus now on your breathing. How the fresh air goes in your nose, down your throat, fills your lungs. Your lungs have a top and bottom. As well as left to right. Take a deep breath. As deep as you can go. Slow. Steady. Like working a bellows. Notice how the top part of your lungs fills first, and then the lower part? And again when your lungs empty. The top part empties first, and then the lower part.
In. Out. Slow. Steady. Top. Bottom. Full. Empty. I want you to keep breathing, just like that.
[Second tone plays, deeper this time]
And just like that, you are under hypnosis. I want you to repeat this exercise whenever you need to relax. For sleep. Just to veg. Whenever you feel comfortable and safe enough to do so. Later, when I have your trust, I will teach you how to do a modified version of this exercise in times of crisis. So you can keep a cool head.
But not now. Now I want you to learn how to sleep in this strange place. Sleep is all too important to managing stress. Something I’m sure you are familiar with. Now more so than ever most likely.
We can change the trigger to one of your personal choice later, but for now… [Three musical tones, different from the watch, going down. I prefer Xylophone] That sound indicates its time to do the relaxing routine We just practiced, and to go to sleep.
When you do sleep, it will be deep, and restful. [Brief pause as he thinks. Add whatever “I’m thinking” tick here you want] Your mind will sort through the events of the day, and whatever is bothering you. Whatever you think is important. Even if its just something you strongly desire. You will wake thinking of it.
The second trigger I am going to teach you is to come when I call. When I, and only I, say “Quoth the Raven” Assuming you aren’t in the middle of something important. If there is no emergency. If the thing can wait until the next day, wrap up what you are doing and come to me right away. I won’t always use it when I want to see you. That will be your own choice. But when I have something to teach you, or we need to have another session. I will use it.
I want you to remember this session. What I’ve said. What the triggers are. And the caveats. I want you to remember how you got here. Why you came. The talk we had that ended in you agreeing to this.
When I snap my fingers, you will go to sleep. You will have the deepest, most restful sleep you have ever had. As long as you need. As deep as you need. And you will process all the stress you have experienced up to this point that you can without being in distress. All the small scares. The little moments where you were proud. Everything small that you’ve been too busy to acknowledge had an effect on you.
When you wake, you will remember you are deep within my mansion. You will know that you have been moved to a different room- your room- and that you have been promised safety.
When you wake, you will know that your gang, your friends, are safe or are going to be safe, and that they will be kept nearby. You will remember that so long as you behave like a human, and attend these sessions, you will get to see them. Protect them. Play with them. Teach them.
When you wake, there will most likely be a doctor by your side. Follow his or her instructions as it relates to your checkup. If you feel uncomfortable, say so. There will be a member of my staff observing, and they will intervene if need be.
There will be clean, warm clothes for you to wear. And hot, fresh food for you to eat as soon as you wake up. When your checkup is done, and you’ve eaten and prepared for the day, you can go see your friends.
I am going to snap my fingers in three… two… one… Sleep.
[Snaps]
End Audio Script. This was inspired by Jouska's recent hypnosis videos, Dr. Who's The Empy Child, and especially a recent trend of hypnosis videos I've seen around where the listeners free will is steam rolled and I personally don't like that. So here's a version where that doesn't happen.
If you want to record and make this into a public video please let me know! I would love to view the finished product and knowing what it looks like will help me to write more in this series in the future.
Do NOT edit outside of speaker gender, and do NOT take Kitten as suggestive. Its a referral to the characters age and behavior, not an attempt to flirt. This is a parent child relationship. Nothing more.

Cinema Pro is no more and none of its features are getting ported into new app Video Pro mode, so this is a perfect opportunity to release this (almost) definite guide as to when and how to record video footage in Cinema Pro. All of us are pretty much aware of most its shortcomings this app has but we are not going to complain or talk about them here, instead we are going to celebrate EOL of Cinema Pro.
I could bet my pet that about 90% of Xperia users ain’t touching Cinema Pro because they feel uncomfortable using it, that includes mobile camera enthusiasts. Instead, they go to BASIC Video or Video Pro and I don’t blame them as learning curve in Cinema Pro is pretty steep but on the other hand this camera app has very flexible workflow and results can be stunning if you practice enough.
So, first things first, none of the video camera apps will make your videos gorgeous by itself. Filming a video, much like a taking a photo, is all about framing your shot. Keep in mind that Cinema Pro is meant for static shots and short pans due to lack of auto ISO adjustments. If your shot is poorly framed not even a Burano can save your butt. Frame your shot properly before you even touch record button. But before you even do that here are few things you should read first to get yourself familiar with Cinema Pro.

Here is what Cinema Pro offers and can do that other Xperia camera apps can’t.
CLIP METADATA
This probably was not your first thought I was gonna bring up, right? Unlike Video Pro which does not save any advanced metadata in video clips Cinema Pro does and it does it quite good.
When you go to Cinema Library and play any clip inside your project (not final video) you can tap on ellipsis at upper right corner and choose Details. Brown window will pop up with following metadata such as ~resolution~ and ~FPS~ but besides that we also get ~Look~ we picked, ~Lens~, ~Stabilization~, ~WB~, ~ISO~, ~Shutter~ speed, ~Focus~ and ~Audio~ level. If we import the clip in desktop software we also get ~bit depth~, ~color space~, ~EOTF~, ~format~, etc.
Why is this important? If you are really making a video project there is a great chance that you imported those clips on your desktop OS and that you are editing or retouching them inside some desktop software. Desktop software has power of utilizing metadata for your convenience when manipulating and exporting the video, matching shots, doing color correction or just doing offline editing.
This will make your life a lot easier. As you will see in my sample footage below, I’ve actually automated the burn-in with the Cinema Pro clip metadata (Looks, WB, Shutter, etc.) to make each clip display the metadata on-screen without me having to punch it in manually.
METERING
If you don’t have Metering bar enabled in your UI you are doing it wrong. Go to yellow hamburger menu to the right and tap Customize DISP and make sure you have Metering Manual set to ON.
Again, what is this important? Because of two things. Cinema Pro dims the display all the time when it’s running for some reason (presumably to better show HLG result on screen) so if you have Xperia 1, 1II, 1III, PRO-I you will be struggling to see anything while being outdoors. Situation is not any better on 1IV and 1V but it’s more usable. Do not trust your display when it comes to exposure. Instead trust your Metering bar and always shoot around 0 if possible, you will thank me for this once you view your clip on a HDR UHD TV. If it’s too bright outside you can try lowering the shutter speed to level the exposure just make sure do not have fast moving subjects in frame such as cars because it will look choppy.
Second, we’ve already established that Cinema Pro is meant for static shots or gentle panning but if you have to do something “wild” such as POV or going from one lighting condition to other (and sometimes that means just a simple camera tilt from ground up to the sky) you will need Metering to try to find the middle value. Do a test run without recording first and pay attention at the meter to see how many stops is the spread between one frame to another. Lets say you adjusted ISO/Shutter for the 0 at the beginning of your camera movement and once your done with the move metering is showing +2. In that case you will need to set your beginning value at -1 in order to get to +1 in the end to contain both highlights and shadows. Just keep in mind that most of the time your aggressive tilts will be ranging from 0 to well above or under -/+2 and in that case, you will have to rethink what you want to do. That’s right Cinema Pro is a slow burn and unnecessary methodical because it applies cine camera philosophy to crappy mobile sensors.
WDR with Stabilization
Here is another one that is not available inside BASIC or Video Pro unless you have 5V or 1VI device. WDR or Wide Dynamic Range option is made for Cinema Pro period. Cinema Pro was pretty much useless until WDR options popped up in PRO-I. So, what does it do? It records three frames at once and then stack them together to make one frame. Camera is recording at 120fps and then outputs 30/25/24 fps as final result hence why it’s not available at 60fps in any app. Using WDR in Cinema Pro you contain the highlights which is impossible to do in SDR mode unless you are in some dimmed environment.
General rule is to always have the WDR on but if you can do it without do it. There is no false color option in Cinema Pro but if you toggle between WDR and SDR you will see blown out highlights in SDR as some mushy color on display. It’s quite easy to spot the difference. Unlike in Video Pro in Cinema Pro WDR does not introduce purple cast in dark/black areas when shooting in low(er)-light conditions. Cinema Pro has a bigger threshold when shooting in low-light before introduces purple cast in blacks compared to Video Pro as long as you do not shoot in N/A Look (you shouldn’t be shooting in N/A like ever but more on that later). Video Pro utilizes WDR quite poorly, in daylight scenes it drops the gain making dark areas even darker which boosts the contrast to a point where you get that Pixel zombie decomposition like human faces. Cinema Pro does NOT do that, instead it only affects the highlights mostly.
Drawback of WDR in both Cinema Pro and Video Pro requires separate paragraph because it’s a big issue. Whenever you have high frequency texture in your shot such as tiny rubble road (asphalt) or stone mosaic wall you will get texture floating effect like texture is rearranging itself. It’s super trippy. That issue persists because development team didn’t master the frame stacking while filming. Those three frames that get to be one do not alight properly with the next stacked frame when it comes to big areas with tiny patterns.
But one good thing that also requires its own paragraph is video stabilization with HLG WDR option turned on. As previously mentioned, that combo is not possible in Video Pro or BASIC modes but it is in Cinema Pro. How? Well Cinema Pro crops top and bottom of 16:9 footage to 21:9 so it has some wiggle room to give as some basic stabilization. Stabilization is nothing spectacular but it doesn’t crop in the image in order to enable stabilization like Video Pro does. In other words, it doesn’t take Video Pro stabilized cropped in frame to enable stabilization. It shoots native UHD which is really important to preserve the quality unlike both Video Pro and BASIC that crop in UHD frame to turn on stabilization and then upscale the frame back to UHD. Cinema Pro does not do that.
Video sample: WATCH 4K wobbly texture issue in WDR, pay attention to black carpet
NIGHTSHOOTING
Cinema Pro does really good night shots due to its flexibility to adjust Looks and auto white balance which I think is superior to Video Pro/BASIC. Funny things is that all of the exposure environment shortcomings during the daytime are not such a big deal during the night time because streets are evenly lit by light poles. So you have more freedom to pan, tilt and walk around while filming in Cinema Pro at night time then during the day. Here is a winning combo to make the night shot as good as possible: ~SDR + VENICE CS + AUTO WB unlocked~. Pretty straight forward. I find VENICE CS greatest strength to be default Look for nighttime as it’s easy on ISO, doesn’t boost contrast and has the least noise compared to some other looks. That doesn’t mean you can’t play around with the Looks during the night, if street lighting is annoyingly yellow you can use Cool/Blue60 +A to introduce some cool gray into the mix. And with the mention of other color profiles this brings us to the most important and the biggest feature of Cinema Pro, the Looks section.
LOOKS + TEMPERATURE + A/B + G/M Adjustments
This alone is the biggest deal in Cinema Pro app and this alone is what most of the users have no idea how to tweak and manipulate. If you thought rack focus is the number one feature in Cinema Pro, well I can assure you it’s number two right after this super flexible image manipulation output. Before we start discussing looks you have to keep in mind there is one factor in equation here and that’s Whitebalance. Most of the users stick with VENICE CS and don’t use any other look because by default all the looks are in your face when left in Auto whitebalance mode. Even less users who default to VENICE CS fiddle with whitebalance to unlock the full potential of image looks manipulation. Before you start playing with the looks you have to go to yellow hamburger menu and ~change WB MODE to TEMPERATURE~ instead of Preset.
With Temperature mode turned on you now have the option to set desired temperature in kelvins as well as to play with A/B and G/M sliders. What those sliders do? AB slider stands for Amber and Blue but names are inverted on axis so B will be to the left and A to the right. You can actually go quite wild with AB as our eyes are a lot less sensitive to warm and cold adjustments. GM slider stands for Green and Magenta and axis works just as the letters, green to the left and magenta to the right. GB sliders requires quite slight nudges in both directions because our eyes perceive color tilt very aggressively. You might want to use GB slider to adjust for human skin or just go artistic on a certain look.
You might ask yourself what the difference between setting up temperature and pushing AB sliders and I could tell you the order it needs to be done to make a proper impact on the picked Look.
1. You always adjust Temperature first. Between 4700K and 5500K is considered daylight in Cinema Pro (forget 6500K as you will crush it with amber). That’s at least how my eyes perceive it. If you pick lets say Strong/Blue100 look you will want to go to 7000K to neutralize it and then add some of A to make it shift from cold to warm look. Oh yeah it’s possible, so suddenly you just changed the bluest of the blue looks into yellow look.
2. Now you fiddle with AB/GM sliders for finer adjustments. AB will have more of an impact if you stick between 4700K-5500K but if you go below or over those Kelvins AB slider will get weaker. GM slider on the other hand will stay powerful and affect any highlight there is in an image.
3. Combine these two to completely alter any Look you pick.
*In order to follow the Looks description and how you could manipulate them, I will provide the links with video samples down below so you could watch them while reading the rest of the post.
WATCH 4K separate clips in order as described
WATCH 4K all the clips combined into one movie file following the order of description
(all files are in Rec2020 + eotf gamma 2.4 for better color representation but stripped of HDR)
Shot setup consists of warm neutral headphones, white coffee cup, glass of water to see highlights behavior and ugly yellow table and green trees. It's a shame I forgot to put red pack of cigarettes or something as reds are crazy different depending on the look you choose.
Soft/Yellow40 gain req: high contrast: lowest texture: softest grade: non-unifying offset: medium hdr: bright
This is the very interesting one and when combined with the right scene it can look marvelous. Soft look is your Orange & Teal go to look pretty much. It’s not very obvious but it’s not subtle either. One of the major traits of this look is really the softer image, not as sharp as let’s say Bright but because of that it mitigates artifacts quite nicely. Keep in mind that this look requires quite a gain so you will be boosting ISO until you reach the 0 in almost every situation. But because this looks require lots of additional stops it’s very grateful for bright environments. It has medium contrast but it can propel highlights quite high, things like neon signs look like glowing neon signs so it has a strong HDR effect which can clip easy. It doesn’t have unifying image trait, so if you are into color graded look this one will not offer that. That’s kind of a given considering it’s balancing out between orange and teal. If you want to unify it then your best bet is to shift it toward cool temperature or push A slider all the way to the left while introducing some magenta with M slider to the right. Soft/Yellow60 can’t completely switch from all blue to all yellow so it’s altering offset limit is medium.
Auto WB look for Soft/Yellow40 is quite decent but if you have some yellow patches, they will pick up some green tint. To remedy that just add some M like 1.x and add splash of Amber like 1.5 to 3 to be sure. If you want to cool down the image just drop Kelvins down or go crazy with B slider. On the other hand if you want to neutralize to get as close to white as possible you will need to add M1.5 or more together with cooler Kelvins. If you are shooting neutrals with this Look make sure you kill green cause it will overtake the whole image.
Where this Look kicks some major but is in a scene where you have brown wood veneer and blue/teal walls or panels. You will get an awesome O&T look out of it.

Opaque/Blue20/Yellow60 gain req: medium contrast: medium texture: sharp grade: unifying offset: medium hdr: medium
Another one that gets overlooked due to poor AUTO WB looks. When set to default WB it looks muddy and sepia like so most of us don’t know what to do with it. You will be shocked now if I tell you this should be your 2^nd go to Look right after Bright. Yup, VENICE CS is not even in top two and I will elaborate why when we get to it. One thing to know in order to use this look you need to modify it from the get go. You need to kill that yellow and boost ISO for a stop or stop and half compared to Bright.
Opaque is great for skintones as they are easily adjusted with AB/GM sliders. Image is very creamy despite having enough clarity and medium contrast. If you underexpose you get some deeper contrast without ruining the creamy image. It’s great for shooting outdoor people gatherings, landscapes on a mute and cloudy day or any outdoor activity. Indoor is kind of tricky due to tungsten lighting but manageable although its not as appetizing as outdoor shots. Keep in mind when shooting at golden hour you will need deeper adjustments to get that sepia out and get the gold in. On any other condition it’s super easy to neutralize the image, you don’t have to push temperature nor sliders too far to get it just right. HDR effect is subtle and not over the top, proper medium and saturation is quite clever despite being a sepia preset. Colors are not muted by any means unless they have some brown in them. If you are a fan of grading I could assure you Opaque has quite unifying image effect no matter if you shoot warm, neutral or cold which is great. Transforming the look to complete cold or warm is tricky as it always keep that mud/sepia yellow in highlights.
To neutralize the look at daytime all you have to do is drop the temp around 4000K or push B slider to your liking. You can always do cold temperature to kill sepia and bring back some heat by pushing A slider. If you want to shoot gold tones then keep it around 5000K and adjust A to your liking while balancing GM.
This look produces super deep and rich reds, amazing reds. And if you combine that red with something beige or sand color like you will get a match made in heaven. Filming bars with brown furnishing packed with people is a treat as well. Shooting at night time in street lights is also a treat for this look.

Cool/Blue60 gain req: med to hi contrast: medium texture: sharp grade: very unifying offset: low hdr: medium
In a nutshell this is a faux bleach bypass or silver look if adjusted right. Together with Soft this has to be the most creative usage look offered. Unlike Soft this one is very easy to setup and results are sharp. At the first glance users might be confused what’s the difference between this one and Strong/BU100 as both look quite similar in Auto WB mode. But once you go out of auto look and start adjusting it soon you figure out that Cool/BU60 look has no vibrance and that’s what makes all the difference compared to all other looks. Gain adjustment to get to 0 is only like 1 stop compared to Bright or VENICE CS. Clarity is right on the par with others and contrast at proper sweet spot. HDR effect is tad bit mute but not by much and it works. And now if you ever wanted a look that makes the whole image like its graded as a whole, look no further (pun intended) than this one.
If you pay close attention, you can tell from the get go that this has silver look to it but it just needs to be released. Those familiar with bleach bypass look will know exactly what to expect from this one. If left in Auto WB you will get nothing but as soon as you dial A slider in more than a half you are waking it up slowly. If you want to get rid of the major blue cast you want to push temperature to 7000K and adjust sliders to your liking. If you drop the exposure, you will get that dramatic film look. Again, this look is quite easy to work with but it’s not flexible, don’t expect major transformations on the other end. It’s a one trick pony and it does that very well.
The best-case scenario for Cool is street photography with lots of metal on it. Cars, machines and silver or gray stuff blend in while human skin remain distinguishable. Interior shots are also great if you have to render a cold, clinical environment like office or a hospital or police station. It’s also your go to look if you want to make anticipation in the video.

Strong/Blue100 gain req: high contrast: low texture: soft grade: very unifying offset: highest hdr: bright
Turn day into a night and night into dusk. This is the most flexible look as it can get from one spectrum to the other without much casting. It’s not called strong for nothing; it really grades the whole image with a single hue. Despite being in your face it actually keeps the contrast on lower side which is very good as you can always dial it in with drop of exposure. Clipping in highlights can occur because of the nature it unifies the picture.
Because this look can go from cool to fire it can get neutral, although neutralizing it is not that simple affair as it’s with Opaque. Best way to get there is to adjust temperature. If hanging around neutral you will get image with blue cast over it. The way I see it this one is supposed to be opposite of Opaque while hitting harder. You might find some creative usage for this one if you want to go abstract and saturated. Similar to Soft look if you film contrast scene that has both cold and warm hues in it you will get that cross axis between the two and nothing in between.

Bright/Blue20/Yellow60 gain req: low contrast: highest texture: sharpest grade: non-unifying offset: low hdr: brightest
Your first go to profile when filming with Cinema Pro. It’s the closest one to Video Pro and closest one that looks like regular picture profile. If you are not looking for a creative look or any look in general this is it. It requires little to no gain adjustment which means it will not suffer from gain artifacts, it has the highest contrast and sharpest details for that mainstream image look (I do not count N/A as picture profile). But right now, there is a huge flaw that has to be addressed with this profile; it can’t capture pure reds no matter what. All reds are burgundy or violet unfortunately. But it nails down blues and teals like a pro.
On the other side it is super easy to balance out the image, its super easy to shift it to warm, cold, green or magenta. There is a quite big of a spread in temperature before image gets painted blue or yellow. It requires small nudges and results are visible right away. It plays well with the skin tones, no issues there. Where it excels is the HDR highlights. This profile kills it when there is shimmer in the view, metallics and all kinds of crazy and contrast stuff. HDR effect is exaggerated and it looks so oomph on a TV. Bright also nails down auto wb from the box so you can set it to auto and forget about it. Overall, it’s easiest to work with and sunny outdoors are a treat for the eyes. Usage of this profile equals that of Video Pro so you can use it anywhere you like. Video Pro is the direct competitor to this Look and while Video Pro can do saturated reds Bright/BU20/YE60 has a tad bit more organic feel despite being quite similar.
This is general purpose Look and being like that it doesn’t offer color grading effect nor it has any offset abilities of color transformation (unless you go completely blue 3200K or completely yellow 7500K).

VENICE CS gain req: low contrast: high texture: sharp grade: non-unifying offset: low hdr: bright
Default look and the one that’s most talked about and the one that most people use. First of all the look itself is fine but it is rather limited. It has nothing to do with Venice color science but it doesn’t have to honestly. It emulates log like image but without any flexibility of the log. It has very low ISO requirements and it’s the brightest look out of them all. Like mentioned above that makes it a go to look for low light shots. All other aspects of this look are almost on par with Bright look so I think these two go hand in hand when you want to lay off saturation and dial down blacks. In other words, don’t try to bring in VENICE CS footage into post to try to bring back vividness. It doesn’t work but that’s why there is Bright look for stuff like that. Unlike Bright look VENICE CS can capture red colors properly.
If you want to shoot haze, mist and other soft scenes VENICE CS is a dream. If you generally want to shoot relaxing stuff VENICE CS is the one to go for. Just don’t treat it as a log footage but rather as a looks footage. HDR is bright enough and it contains highlights really good. When it comes to exposure its quite flexible so margin of error is low.

Warm/Yellow80 gain req: medium contrast: high texture: sharp grade: most-unifying offset: lowest hdr: medium
This is supposed to be opposite of Cool, at least in theory. In reality we have a huge cast of orange and brown all over the screen. It’s really strong color cast and you can only manipulate it do a certain degree. It doesn’t require high ISO, it has deep contrast, good clarity and it contains highlights in HDR. On the artistic department there is vey little you can do with this. Cast is like three times stronger sepia of Opaque look. The only use case I found is when you want to turn something into golden look. Just like how Cool is silver look Warm is supposed to be gold look. But again, to my eyes it aligns more to Opaque deeper side than actual warm/gold. Shooting some neutral-colored scenery and cooling down the temperature below 4000K might give some artistic effect. This is a very limited look to play with.
There is nothing to say about N/A and Soft Monochrome except that you should never shoot in N/A it’s just horrible and if you want BW video you at least have an option.

So conclusion, Cinema Pro besides all of its shortcomings and some are pretty serious, has few features of brilliance that were never ever seen in any camera app third-party or OEM before and most likely we will never see those features again. Sony’s biggest sin with Cinema Pro is not omission of features but rather NOT improving up on what’s already in there. They just let it rot. I guess at one moment at it’s inception Cinema Pro had a great roadmap where it should go but then new management came in and shifted focus from cinema video to photography and v-logging.
Cinema Pro is dead, long live Cinema Pro. Go ahead and make some projects with it.