BY
ALYSSA WONG
DIANA DOESN’T FIND OUT THAT the pictures have gone viral until her friends text her is this you?? with the link to the Reddit post. Diana’s used to all kinds of comments about her appearance, her voice, her everything, whenever she livestreams the games she plays, but her fans are usually fairly positive. The title of this post, “The Real MoonDi,” doesn’t immediately set off alarm bells. At first, she doesn’t understand.
And then she sees the photo below it, and abruptly, she does.
Diana recognizes that filthy bathroom, that hand in her hair. She remembers the way the bass from the music outside buzzed through the tile floor, and the awful smell, the awful taste.
She clicks out of the browser window and is halfway across the room before her mind catches up to the cold, sick feeling crashing through her body. The buzzing sound in her head is overwhelming.
Water, she thinks faintly, I need water, and then she throws up in the kitchen sink.
She doesn’t read the comments.
* * *
She reads the comments, all of them, with a mounting sense of nausea and horror.
hahaa fuckin whore
so thats how she made twitch partner
omg it’s clearly photoshopped u dumbasses
RealMoonDi more like ReallyMunchDkic amirite lmao
The bottom sliver of the photo peeks down from the top of her screen. That yellow tile, the grime embedded in the grout and crawling up the sides of the walls like disgusting ivy.
Diana’s cat steps onto her desk, chirping at her. She tears her gaze away from the screen, and looking into those wide green eyes grounds her. She remembers to breathe. The world around her stabilizes, and the roaring in her ears dies down, a little.
The cat nips her fingers and scampers away.
Her phone vibrates on the desk beside her. When she picks up, her best friend Temmie’s voice is gentle. “Hey. How are you doing?”
“Uh,” Diana says. It’s rare for Temmie to call her; usually it’s the other way around. The roar in Diana’s ears picks back up as she glances at her computer. She hits refresh, her hands moving as if they aren’t her own, and the roar builds to a crushing scream. She clenches her teeth tight to keep it inside.
There’s the rumble of a car engine starting, filtered through the phone speakers. That’s right; Temmie lives on the East Coast, so she’s already leaving her office, even though it’s only late afternoon here. “Come on, Moony, talk to me,” says Temmie, and she’s not asking. “I’m worried about you. You know I don’t get this game stuff, but I know you.”
Onscreen, the comments continue down the page, an endless, unspooling ribbon of text.
Im so disappointed, I looked up to her why is it that every time a cool girl in games always turns out to be like this
“Did you see the picture?” Diana says, and it’s one of the hardest questions she’s asked in her life.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t think you should be alone right now,” says Temmie.
Temmie is right, as she always is.
Diana breathes in, out, trying to focus on the carpet beneath her bare feet. “Yeah,” she says. But she doesn’t have any friends here, even though LA sprawls in a way that their tiny hometown in eastern North Carolina didn’t. All of her friends are online, or back home, like Temmie. She knows some other streamers online, but it’s different.
When Diana streams as RealMoonDi, she’s bubbly and bright, but she has a hard time networking in person, and going out makes her anxiety spike. Even thinking about it makes her sweat. And what if she misses something on the Reddit thread while she’s out?
“Diana?” says Temmie, her voice scratchy. Her phone has switched her over to her car’s Bluetooth speakers. “Do me a favor. Shut that computer off and spend the evening with some friends. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Sure thing,” Diana says, gazing at the screen. She doesn’t realize she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood.
* * *
Diana hadn’t known who he was, at first. It was her first GDC, and her group of streamers got into a party that left her sweating in the corner, clutching a drink in one hand and her phone in the other. When he had appeared before her, sliding from the crowd of people like a shadow, she almost jumped out of her skin.
You doing okay? he’d said, and then he bought her another drink. The more they had, the more he talked, the friendlier he got.
There was an easy arrogance about him and the way he moved. He had nice arms, and a tattoo of stag horns on the swath of pale skin below his left elbow. He dropped his company’s name in a way that demanded she be impressed. We’re always looking for streamers. I can get you corporate sponsorships, he said. I can make you a star, he said.
Diana felt uneasy, and the way he said it made her feel gross. But still, she had wanted him, with his dark swoop of hair and sharp, clever eyes. She wanted his flattering tongue, his heat, an alternative to lying alone in her hotel room, missing Temmie, her own thoughts too loud in her head.
What’s your name, again? she asked, breathless, as he broke their kiss.
I’m Tae, he said, like he didn’t need a last name. He didn’t ask for hers.
They ended up in the bathroom, in the handicapped stall. Outside, the music thumped, rattling the metal dividers. As they kissed, his hands slid up Diana’s skirt, dipping into her underwear. She flinched, uncertain.
Wait, I—
Tae paused. What is it?
I’ve never done this before, she said, her voice swallowed by the music. She tried again. I’ve never—
The music swelled, and he crowded her against the wall. The bathroom was hot and smelled like piss. Don’t worry. That doesn’t turn me off. In fact, he said, sucking a mark onto her neck, the rough friction of his teeth making her moan, I think it’s pretty hot. I’ll get to be your first.
I don’t know if I can, she said. She had been bold and sure, but now, suddenly, she was nervous. I’m drunk, she realized. God, I’m drunk as fuck. I don’t think I want to.
He was silent for a second, his eyes dark, and Diana looked past him, her gaze darting around the bathroom, tabulating all of the ways out, in case he took it badly. And she didn’t know him. The paint on the wall stuck to her sweaty skin, and she realized she was pressing back so hard that her shoulder blades hurt.
Okay, he said at last, and air flooded back into her lungs. Why don’t we do something else instead?
She started to say yes, but then Tae was pushing her to the ground, onto her knees. The tile was hard and wet, and she almost slipped. Alarm shot through her. I don’t—
Don’t be scared. His hand in her hair was gentle, and so was his voice. The antlers tattooed on his forearm brushed against her cheek. You can go slow. I don’t mind.
Absurdly, she thought of Temmie. She wanted to be home, sitting on the couch, watching Netflix and texting Temmie. She wished it was Temmie’s fingers twined gently in her hair.
Okay, Diana said. She wanted this, Diana reminded herself. She wanted this. She clung to that thought as he undid his pants and slipped free.
He was hot. She felt like he was burning up, patches of flushed skin trailing all the way down to his abdomen. He was warm in her mouth, and she tried not to think. She wanted to want this, and soon heat traveled through her own veins, pooling below her stomach.
There was a blinding flash of light, followed by the simulated click of a camera shutter. Diana looked up directly into his phone’s lens.
Any arousal she’d felt vanished in a surge of overwhelming panic.
What the fuck are you doing? Delete that!
I will, I promise, Tae said, holding her at arm’s length. Holding her down. It’s hot, isn’t it? Being photographed?
No, it’s not! She tried to grab his phone, but he pocketed it.
Quiet down, it’s fine. I’ll just jerk off to it tonight. No one else is going to see it.
That’s not the problem. I don’t want anyone to have it, including you. Delete it right now! She struggled to her feet, clawing at his arm. He was so strong that it was hard to break his grip. He held the phone out of reach. I could punch him in the cock, Diana thought, wildly. I could just do it.
All right, all right, Jesus. He rolled his eyes and tapped his phone. Done. Are you happy now?
Yeah. And I’m leaving.
Are you serious? he demanded as she pushed away from him. His arm flashed out, but she was too fast, slipping past him. You’re not going to finish?
She looked at him coldly. Her knees were damp, and the fear had turned to bright, icy rage. We’re definitely finished here.
She left him there with his cock hanging out and took a Lyft home. As soon as she got in the door, she collapsed on the bed and cried until her head stopped hurting.
* * *
By the time Temmie calls her back, the afternoon sun has waned to give way to evening, and Diana is still crunched up in her computer chair. “You didn’t go out, did you,” Temmie says without preamble.
Diana hunches her shoulders. “Sorry.”
“I figured,” says Temmie, but it’s kind. Diana hears water running in the background, and she can imagine Temmie standing in her kitchen, beginning to prepare dinner. Diana misses being in that kitchen. “Did you report it to the police?”
“Not yet. I probably should.” Diana swallows and fiddles with the ribbon tied around her ponytail. It’s coming loose, and the ends are frayed. “What if they don’t believe me?”
“The picture’s pretty incriminating,” says Temmie.
“But maybe they’ll think it was consensual. Maybe they’ll say I shouldn’t have blown him if I didn’t want this to happen.” Diana covers her face. I didn’t want it, she thinks desperately. There were parts she had enjoyed, but then she had said no, and he hadn’t stopped.
“That’s bullshit. They can make him take the picture down, can’t they?”
“Even if Reddit took the post down, I’m sure it’s been archived by dozens of people by now.” The internet is forever, Diana thinks, a little hysterically. She closes her eyes. “I never thought this would happen to me. I know it’s happened to other women in games before.”
“You mean he’s done this to more than one person?” demands Temmie. “It’s a pattern?”
“Not him. I dunno, maybe? But other folks. Targeted harassment.”
On the other end of the line, Temmie stops chopping whatever vegetable she’s hacking apart. “You get harassed a lot,” she says slowly.
“There are ways to help mitigate the damage,” Diana says defensively. “I’ve got chain blockers installed on Twitter, and there are online support groups of women gamers and devs.”
It’s not the first time someone’s tried to take Diana down a peg for rejecting them, or for just existing online. When she first started streaming, it hadn’t been too bad. The abuse only began to flood in when her channel started gaining traction. Back then, Diana had thought she’d be ready to handle it, but the sheer volume was overwhelming. Still, even at its worst, it was nothing compared to this explosion of harassment.
She can imagine Tae’s voice. Told you I’d make you famous.
“But, I mean . . . is it worth it? They’ll leave you alone if you quit, right?”
The pit in Diana’s stomach bottoms out, and she straightens up. “I’m not quitting. I love this; I’m not giving it up. I have fans, I have—”
“Diana, who cares! They’re just video games. If it’s dangerous, you should stop streaming.”
The thought of it makes her jaw tense. “If I do, they win,” says Diana.
“Look at the photo. Haven’t they won already?”
Diana’s back stiffens. She feels betrayed, and when she speaks, that tightness carries into her voice. “I have to go.”
“Diana—”
Diana hangs up and stares at the ceiling. Her pulse has rocketed, and she feels worse. But now, she feels angry.
Defiantly, she logs into Twitch. She tabs to a different window and sends a quick tweet: Hey everyone! Streaming in ten minutes. Join me at https://www.twitch.tv/realmoondi!
Tae won’t take this from her. She won’t let him.
* * *
A week later, Diana talks herself into leaving her apartment for a game dev meetup. It’s at a bar in West LA, and some of the other streamers from her group are going. It’ll be fun. It’ll be low-key. She plans to get there late, so the others will already be there when she arrives.
When she walks into the bar, it feels like everyone is looking at her. She shivers, trying not to pull in on herself. No one’s looking at you, she tells herself sternly, and lifts her chin. The others are nowhere in sight, and she swallows down her panic and heads straight for the bar. “I’ll have the Wicked Weed Black Angel,” she says.
The bartender slides it over to her without a glance. She pays in cash. When she looks up, she almost drops the beer; Tae is on the other side of the room, his dark eyes trained on her. He’s surrounded by his colleagues. None of them seem to have noticed her yet.
I have to leave.
“I thought you were going to drink that,” says the bartender, and Diana realizes she’s said it aloud. The bartender follows her gaze, and when he sees Tae, he straightens up, his mouth hardening into a line. “Oh, that asshole. He giving you trouble?”
“I—” Diana stumbles over the words. West LA. Of course. She should have known, but she hadn’t seen his name on the Facebook group RSVP.
But Tae is already heading toward her, pushing through the crowd, intent.
Diana whirls, gripping the bottle tight and dashing for the door. She thinks she hears him call her name, but then she’s out on the sidewalk. She runs across the street and keeps running. A car honks and swerves, but she barely sees it. She runs and runs, the straps of her heels biting into her feet, the beer sloshing over her hand. Her lungs burn.
By the time she’s able to stop, she’s several blocks away. Tae is nowhere in sight. Maybe he went back to the meetup, or realized he’d look like a lunatic chasing a fleeing woman down the street.
To her surprise, there’s still over half of the beer left in the bottle, much more than she expected.
Diana begins to laugh and then she can’t stop; she’s still laughing by the time her Lyft pulls up, and she drinks what’s left in the bottle on the way home.
* * *
She doesn’t tell Temmie about seeing Tae at the bar. Even though they’ve made up by now, things still feel fragile.
Diana gets the first text while she’s out buying groceries. It’s from a number she doesn’t recognize, and it reads: hey I want to apologize
She frowns at that, and the next texts appear on the screen in rapid succession.
I didn’t leak the pic I stg
a friend did
he was being stupid I don’t know why he did it
Diana’s blood runs cold. How did you get my number? she texts back.
from work, we were looking for streamers for an event
I recognized your name
can we talk about this, I don’t want to take it to the police
Her phone buzzes harshly in her hand. The strange number lights up on the screen. Diana already knows who it is.
Fuck you, she texts back. Never text me again.
Her phone won’t stop buzzing, and eventually she turns it off just to make it stop. Diana ends up driving back home without help from her GPS. She misses a call from Temmie, and doesn’t end up calling her back.
* * *
When Diana streams, it helps her focus. She feels calm, centered. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of the games, and the concentration takes her out of her own head. Here, she can be MoonDi, not Diana. She can be herself.
Temmie doesn’t understand streaming, or gaming, or any of it. In some ways, Diana is secretly glad; this is a world apart from Temmie and the connections to back home. She can leave her old self behind and build something new.
But her something new has warped into an awful reality. When she streams, the viewer chat box fills with abuse and filth, and she can’t report fast enough. There are so many of them. None of them know her, she realizes. But it doesn’t matter; she stands for something they hate, and that’s enough.
Someone has gifed the photo, and thank god the site hosting the image took it down. But Diana wonders how many people have it saved in a folder somewhere.
And then Tae starts appearing, watching her stream. He rarely comments, but when he does, the rest of the chat lights up and the messages fly thick and fast. Tae never says anything rude or disgusting. Just:
@RealMoonDi, let’s talk. you owe it to me.
Diana ignores him, even when her hands shake. She ignores his texts, blocks his number, and then ignores the texts from whatever burner phone he’s bought. It’s hard, and terrifying, but one day, somebody reaches out via DM. It’s one of the other streamers she met at an event, and she wants her to know that Diana has her support. I understand, reads her message, and even though she doesn’t know this woman, Diana believes her.
She’s not the only one. Other streamers and devs reach out, too. Soon, she’s talking with them online, and then they meet, face-to-face, for the first time. And then again, and again, and again, until she stops feeling anxious every time they invite her to hang out.
Diana spends more time with them, and just being with people who know what she’s going through helps. The nightmares slow, then ease. She thinks less about Temmie, too.
Slowly, she gains confidence. At the next meetup, Tae tries to talk to her, but her new friends close ranks and keep him away until Diana can escape. They leave in a pack and spend the rest of the night talking over late-night tacos.
Everyone has their own horror stories. “It gets better eventually,” says one woman. She has a kind smile and the eyes of a veteran. “It’s hard to believe, I know, but it’s true.”
“It never goes away, though, does it?” says Diana. She pokes at her queso.
“No. But you get stronger.”
* * *
Diana opens the door to get her takeout, but the delivery guy isn’t there. Tae shoulders his way into her apartment before she can slam the door on him. He backs her up against the wall, trapping her with his arms. When she opens her mouth to scream, he stifles the sound with his palm.
“Don’t,” he says, his tone urgent and dark. “I just want to talk, I swear. Hear me out and I’ll leave you alone.”
Her heart hammers, and she bites down on her scream as hard as she can. The nightmares flash back, and her whole body feels too hot, too cold. Her phone lies on her bedside table, too far away.
The tattoo on his forearm presses against the side of her face, and she remembers what his hands felt like in her hair.
“Everyone thinks I raped you,” says Tae. “You’re the only one who knows that I didn’t. My bosses found out about the picture, and I’m in trouble at work. I could lose my job over this.”
Diana rips her mouth away from his palm. “Good,” she says. “You deserve it.”
He leans in closer. “I need you to tell them that I didn’t do this,” he snaps. “I wasn’t even the one who posted it to Reddit! One of my idiot friends did.”
Of course he shared it with his friends, Diana thinks, sick. “If you’d deleted the photo like I asked you to, none of this would have happened.”
“You led me into that bathroom. You wanted me.” He’s desperate, Diana realizes. Tae looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. He punches the wall by her head, and she flinches. “Don’t you fucking lie to me!”
“Get out.” Diana’s voice is so calm that she almost doesn’t recognize it. It cuts through him like a knife.
Tae backs off, runs his hand through his hair. “What do you want? Money? I can make you an official streamer for the company. Or . . .” A considering gleam appears in his eye. “I know. You’re upset, aren’t you. You think I was too pushy. And you’re upset because I ghosted you and then my friend posted the photo.”
The fucking nerve. The blood rushes to Diana’s head and her face burns. She opens her mouth, but Tae continues.
“I’ll give you a real chance this time. Just us, no cameras, all romantic and shit. However you want it. And then you’ll tell the company that we’re dating, and the picture meant nothing.”
Tae is between her and the door, and Diana’s apartment is a studio, so there’s nowhere to hide. She won’t be able to get away.
It’s just like that night in the bathroom, where she was afraid of what he’d do if she said no.
Diana glances past him, at her desktop set up opposite her bed. She was in the middle of streaming when the doorbell rang, and the feed’s still running. The webcam mounted over the monitor points at her vacated chair, and at the fluffy pink bedspread behind it.
Its lens gleams like an eye.
“Okay,” she says shakily. “Okay. Just . . . let me go.”
Tae doesn’t move. Diana tries to slip under his arm, but he blocks her. His mouth is set in a hard line. He doesn’t trust her.
Come on, think, Di.
Diana takes a breath and tilts her chin up, looking him straight in the face. “We’re not doing this in the hallway. The bed’s right there.”
A slow, easy grin spreads across Tae’s face. He thinks he’s got her now. “All right. Whatever you want.”
Diana nudges the arm trapping her against the wall. Her heart is beating so hard that she’s afraid he’ll hear it. But he lets the arm drop, and she walks backward into the apartment.
“You weren’t answering my calls.” Tae follows her to the bed nestled in the corner of the apartment. Her desk sits opposite to it, with its webcam pointed at the bedspread. He glances at it, and then at the posters on her walls. Heroes from Diana’s favorite games stare down at them, their faces frozen in eternal grins.
He’s so arrogant. Even the way he stands in her apartment, taking up space like it belongs to him. Diana pushes him, and Tae falls back onto the bed with an oomph. There’s something dark in his eyes. He looks amused, like she’s a puppy doing tricks.
Diana thinks back to the stories she’s read online, to all the videos she’s watched late at night. She can do this. She can do this.
“Take your clothes off,” she says with more bravado than she feels, and he does, stripping easily in a way that’s meant to impress. Diana pulls her hair ribbon free from her ponytail and holds it tight between both hands. “Now . . . now give me your wrists.”
Tae raises an eyebrow. “Kinkier than I thought. I could have sworn you said you were a virgin.”
She ignores that, kneeling on the bedspread beside him. It’s too late to back out now, she thinks. Diana reaches for the bedside table and turns her phone facedown. “I thought you said we’d do this however I wanted,” she challenges him.
The vulnerability in her voice must show through, because after a moment’s hesitation, he lets her tie his wrists to the white-painted iron headboard. She stands up, surveying her handiwork.
“Like what you see?” he says.
“Yeah, I . . . yeah.” Diana swallows hard.
What would MoonDi say?
“You look good like this,” Diana says, and tries not to cringe, because that’s a porny fanfiction line if she’s ever heard one. But a red flush creeps slowly up his neck. “Just give me a second to turn off my computer.”
Diana moves to the desk, blocking Tae’s view of the screen with her body. The chat is blowing up with questions and comments from her viewers, but she ignores them, dimming brightness on the monitor until it’s gone completely dark. The mic on Diana’s headphones broke a while ago, so she’d switched to using a podcasting-quality standalone microphone. It’s currently parked on the corner of her desk, picking up every word they’re saying.
She adjusts the webcam so it’s pointed directly at the bed. Its glassy lens gleams like a warning, and Tae watches her, hungry, unknowing, from the sheets.
Diana turns back to Tae and advances on the bed. Last chance to chicken out, she thinks grimly. But there never was a chance, really.
“Let’s do this,” Diana says, and takes off her shirt.
* * *
When Diana streams, it helps her focus. She feels calm, centered. This stream is different, and there’s a deep, unsettled feeling in her stomach. But as the camera watches her climb onto the bed beside Tae, that familiar sense of calm, of being MoonDi, descends like a heavy blanket. It steadies her, stops her shaking. Diana swings her leg over Tae’s hips and sits there, staying in frame and pressing her hand onto his chest.
She’s still in her pajama pants and sports bra, and the material against his bare skin draws a muffled groan from him. “Why are you still wearing that?” Tae demands. “Take it off.”
“No,” Diana says. The touch of his skin repulses her, but when she shifts her weight above him and a groan escapes his lips, she feels powerful. She makes sure her voice is loud enough for the mic to pick up. It isn’t difficult; the equipment’s always been too sensitive. “You stalked me, you forced yourself into my home, and you threatened me. I’m calling the shots tonight.”
She shoves him down farther into the sheets. “You made it clear you weren’t accepting no for an answer.”
“Whatever.” His grin is a predator’s grin. “So are you going to blow me again?”
She rocks back, shivers. The room is cold. This is a stupid idea, Diana, what the fuck are you doing? she thinks. But the red eye of the camera steadies her. “Only if I want to,” Diana says.
Diana rocks forward with purpose this time, then back again. She can feel the hard press of him through her pajama pants, and it makes her want to recoil out of her skin, but she holds on. “Who did you send that picture to?” she says. Her hands travel up his chest, sharp and vicious. He winces, but his breathing catches and his hips raise. “Who?”
“Why do you want to talk about other people?”
She slaps him. His head snaps back, and he looks at her wide-eyed, all of his bravado evaporating. He’s gotten even harder.
Oh, Diana realizes faintly. Her head is beginning to fill with a roaring sound again, but this time, it’s different. She’s never felt like this before. It fills her with electricity.
“Tell me,” she hisses, grabbing his hair, and he twitches beneath her hips. “I want names.”
Diana slaps him again, and he almost comes undone, his back arching. Names spill from his lips. Eight of them, all coworkers, all men his age. She recognizes all of them. She knows her viewers will too.
She wonders what they’re saying now, watching this. Tae’s face is recognizable; he has his own stream, and he appears on official ones for work, too. All of the friends he names stream, too.
“Good,” Diana says, and he looks back at her hazily. His demeanor is completely different from the man she’d met under the neon lights months ago. The flush has crept all the way across his neck and chest, and his cock presses against her with urgency. “Now apologize.”
“For what?”
She reaches down and grabs him. Upsetting memories of the club bathroom flicker through her head, but she fights them off. “For taking that photo. For leaking it to your friends. For trying to coerce me to stay quiet.”
“I didn’t—”
Diana squeezes him tight, and his wrists strain against their ties. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries, but she realizes that he has no idea why he should be sorry.
“Say it!” she shouts at him, pulling her hand away, and he begs her to touch him again. He’s strung tight, so tight. “Tell me why you’re sorry!”
And he does. He says everything Diana wants to hear, every word loud enough for the mic to pick up.
“Very good,” she says when he’s done, and she works him hard in her hand. She isn’t gentle, and it’s sloppy and inexperienced and too dry, but the noises of pain-pleasure Tae makes and the way he begs her not to stop keep her going. The video keeps her going. Her arm muscles feel like they’re on fire, and it’s like an electric current is running through her fingers. It’s so different from that night at GDC.
As he gets close, Diana grips his hair again with her free hand, forcing him to bare his throat. There’s no disguising his moan. “You want this,” she says, wonder in her voice. Patches of bright red trail all the way down his torso.
“Yes.”
She pulls harder, and he whimpers under her. “You want me to do this to you?” she says, and the pressure draws a wrecked sound out of him.
“Yes, god, yes.”
“Too fucking bad,” Diana says, and she rolls off of him, getting to her feet on the carpet. She snatches her phone off of the bedside table, and Tae looks up at her, bewildered and more than a little pissed off.
“What the hell?” he demands. “What are you doing?”
“Calling the police,” says Diana. Her heart beats so hard and fast it makes her feel light-headed. Her body is bright with adrenaline. “Because one of us is getting a happy ending tonight, and it’s not you.”
“Calling the—why?”
“Because,” Diana says slowly, like she’s explaining something to a child, “you broke into my apartment and threatened me. Plus the stalking, and the revenge porn. Of course I’m fucking calling the police to arrest your ass.”
Tae looks up at Diana like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “So what, they’ll get here and see us playing some weird sex game? Is that your idea of revenge?” He laughs at her.
“You confessed to everything,” Diana snaps.
“Maybe I did; maybe I didn’t. You’ll never be able to prove it.”
“I don’t have to.” Diana increases the brightness on her desktop monitor, and his eyes widen when he sees the active window with their stream. The chat box on the side of the screen is going wild. “You already did.”
holy shit is that Tae
wOOOOW LMAOOOO RIP
uh I think this is porn. isn’t that against twitch rules?
hes gonna get fired for this
“Turn that off!”
Diana backs away, grabbing her shirt off the floor and yanking it back over her head. “You can deny whatever you want. But I can guarantee that what you said, and what everyone else here saw and heard, will be all over Reddit by the time you make it out the door.”
“I said, turn it off!” Tae thrashes on the bed, lunging for her, but he can’t get his hands free.
reporting reporting reporting
it was all true??? what a creep omfg
guys got some weird habits lol
how do I get @RealMoonDi to sit on me too
“Diana, you fucking bitch—”
“It’s funny. I didn’t know you knew my name,” Diana says. She picks up her keys and wallet from their spots on her desk. “You never asked for it. I didn’t think it mattered to you.”
He calls her many things after that, none of which are her name. Ignoring him, Diana checks the comments in the livestream chat and smiles. Her followers are going wild.
jfc this asshole
gave 500 bits! thanksf or the exclusive content
seriously they’d better fire him after this
So is this an official collaboration stream or what
In the upper right corner of the screen is a small image of what her webcam captures. This close, Diana takes up most of the picture. Her dark hair falls around her face, and her eyes are bright and calm. Tae is a small smudge in the background.
“I’m going to leave the stream live so that if anything happens to me, you’ll know,” she says to the camera. “Thanks for watching, guys. Now you know the truth.”
Tae is still screaming at her when she pockets her stuff and heads for the door. As she dials 911, she takes one last look at him, naked with his arms pulled up over his head, the knotted ribbon holding him fast and biting into his flesh. The antlers on his pale skin stand out in hard black lines.
“You wanted it, you fucking liar,” he snarls.
Diana steps out into the cold night air and closes the door behind her.