#and will now delete the rest of the book from my brain

[kekaki-cupcakes]

My opinion on TSATS

The plot was as holey as Will's cheese hat and I love the book and hate it and would build a throne for it then burn it and cry and thank Rick and Mark then kill them on sight and-

[tomriddleslove]

Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Idk if you watched the movie Were the Millers?? But can you do imagine where reader never had a first kiss and charles and lando give her her first kiss ?? Like the scene with Jenn Anniston, will poulter, and Emma roberts ???

Grounded || LN4 & CL16

AN: Been a while since I watched it but this was fun to write ☺️ virgin!fem!reader

The backseat to Lando’s Range Rover was spacious and you stretched your legs out to settle in for the drive. A snow storm had grounded the planes in London and Lando had offered to put you both up for the night. As Charles assistant you had tried your best to find a hotel but with Christmas right around the corner everything decent was booked out.

Lando had said to call him if you ever needed anything, but you hadn’t been brave enough to use it until now.

“Are you sure it’s okay to drive in the snow?”

“It’s 4 wheel drive,” Lando replied as he looked at you in the rear view mirror and reassured you with a smile. “We’ll be fine, but if we get stuck at least we can huddle for warmth.”

Your eyes widened at the departing wink in the mirror and your cheeks could have melted all the snow within the greater London area. It would have been a service to the city worth a damehood by the King himself.

“Stop teasing my assistant, Lando,” Charles said with a laugh. “She accidentally deleted my calendar the last time you flirted with her.”

You wanted to argue but he had left you so frazzled you hit the wrong buttons on your iPad. It had been mortifying and the fact your boss was bringing it up again only made you slink lower in the leather seat. It was hard enough to work with such a handsome man, but the fact that his friends that he competed against were just as handsome made your life much harder. At least Charles paid you so there was a line of employee/employer relationship that kept things professional, but there was still the occasional comment that crossed that line - and you never knew how to handle it. Mostly, your brain just shut down.

Shoving your AirPods in, you started to open Spotify to find a distraction from your embarrassment and they both noticed it.

“I can’t help it, you cannot tell me that you don’t find the innocent vibe hot?”

Your fingers froze over the song you were about to play and realised they thought you were already listening to something.

“She’s my assistant.”

“That’s not a denial.” Lando was grinning from ear to ear. “I bet she’s still a virgin.”

You spluttered indignantly and both men looked at you, Charles over his shoulder and Lando in the mirror. Tugging the AirPods out you narrowed your eyes and lied, “I am not a vir-” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it but you swallowed and took another attempt, “virgin.”

The weak lie caused a crack in the press of lips, until both men laughed outright. Huffing, you crossed your arms and looked out the window. “Does it really even matter?”

“Aren’t you even curious?” Lando shot back.

“I know all about sex, for Christ’s sake, I do read.”

“I’m not sure reading is quite the same as doing in this case,” Charles said, remembering the many times he caught you slamming a book closed at his entrance. He was even more intrigued about those thick volumes now.

“Reading doesn’t threaten to leave me disappointed as I have heard men tend to do.”

Lando scoffed and shook his head. “I haven’t had that complaint. Charles?”

“No, no complaints either.”

“I’m sure it’s less romantic than the books describe too, like kissing. What is so good about possibly chipping a tooth, or sharing saliva?”

The SUV screeched to a halt into a rest stop and Lando turned in his seat. “Wait. You’re telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Charles asked, before he turned and saw the telltales signs of your discomfort. “No, really? How? You are beautiful.”

Your mind went to that place of thoughtlessness, where every neurotransmitter misfired and your heart seemed to find itself beating in two places. “Uh…” you scrambled for an answer that they patiently waited for. “I don’t have any time to date so it just hasn’t come about.”

Charles certainly utilised your availability to be on call 24/7 but he hadn’t thought about the personal cost that took on you. He assumed you didn’t have or want a social life, not that he was the cause for it. Maybe that was why he next words slipped out without censoring, or so he told himself. “I will kiss you, right now.”

“Or I can, and I’m not your boss so there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it,” Lando countered, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Everyone deserves a perfect first kiss.”

You gripped the seatbelt across your chest as you tried to understand why they were both unbuckled and opening their doors. Cold air rushed in as both backdoors opened and they slipped in beside you, mist billowing from their breath before the warmth was sealed inside once more.

Your lips felt dry and they watched as the tip of your tongue peeked out between to wet them. Your fingers were gently pried off the belt until each hand was laced with theirs but you still stared ahead at the unhappy quiet road. “What if I don’t want to be kissed?”

Lando scoffed but Charles turned you to face him with one curled finger under your chin and a look that made breathing impossible. “Then tell me you don’t want to be kissed,” he whispered as his lips drew nearer, his breath fanning your cheek. The touch of his lips were chaste at best, a caress on cheek before trailing closer to the place where words failed. Your toes clenched in your boots and you trembled with anticipation until the air burst back into your burning lungs. Your lips parted with the intake and he struck.

Your stomach that had been knotted suddenly erupted in the explicable feeling you had only read about. Butterflies, chaotic and energetic, fluttered joyously around your insides and a foreign sound escaped your lips that danced with his.

“I think she likes that, Charles.” A hand on your throat stole you from the taste that you certainly wanted more of and when you opened your eyes you found the pair change from green to blue. “My turn, gorgeous.”

Lando didn’t tease. His hand squeezed and you gasped in response, a sound so similar to what Charles had drawn from you. He took the opening you gave him and devoured you with the hunger of a starving man. His tongue dominated yours as he tipped your head back and deepened the kiss further until you were certain you were going to be consumed by him.

You welcomed it.

You weren’t adept enough after two kisses to know whose was better, both left you yearning for more. But they were parked on the side of the road and you were all too well aware that losing your virginity in the back seat of a Ranger was not what you wanted. Even if your body screamed yes.

“How do you feel?” Charles asked as he eyed your swollen lips and your dilated pupils between your flustered blinks with pride.

“Uh…” You told yourself to think but it was nearly impossible, and the men chuckled with the knowledge they had kissed you stupid.

“Just think of what other ‘firsts’ we could be,” Lando offered as he ran a thumb along your bottom lip, wanting another taste. “We could be snowed in for a while.”

“Wait, what?” They cut through your mental haze with clarity and you sat up straighter. “No, the airport said tomorrow…”

Charles shrugged and your brows pinched. “The storm’s worsening, it might be a few days until the planes can take off.”

“It’s okay,” Lando assured you with a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll look after you.”

[youssefguedira]

@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

[cedarxwing]

Hello!!

What do you think made Will bluebeard's last wife? And how did Will understand that Hannibal was in love with him when he had the bluebeard discussion with Bedelia?

Hello! I see that someone already answered this question here, but I'll try to put my own spin on it.

Some context:

In the folktale, Bluebeard is a wealthy man whose wives keep mysteriously disappearing. He gives his seventh wife the key to all the locked doors in their house, but tells her not to open the door to the basement ("Secrets you're not to know, yet sworn to keep"). Of course, the wife goes snooping and discovers the corpses of all his former wives. It's a classic Pandora/Psyche myth with a horrific twist.

Key point: Bluebeard's seventh and final wife survives, inherits his fortune, and lives happily ever after.

The Bluebeard analogy is honestly perfect for Hannibal's character because it highlights the way he destroys everyone he loves. He brings a series of "wives" behind the veil (Miriam, Abigail, Gideon) and all of them end up maimed, mentally broken, or dead. This pattern echoes his childhood behavior, originating with the consumption of Mischa and developing with his mind games with Chiyoh. "Every family loves differently. Every love is unique." Hannibal expresses love through destruction and consumption.

Bedelia understands this. When she says she would've preferred to be Bluebeard's last wife, she means that she would've preferred to be the one who escaped Hannibal and lived happily ever after. She does not want to be on the receiving end of Hannibal's "love."

There's a deleted scene in the Antipasto script where she says the same line to Dimmond:

Basically, "Help me lock this monster up, because I'm not going to be one of his victims. I do want his money, though."

The same line, said accusingly to Will, takes on a different meaning. Hannibal is courting a new partner, and if Bedelia isn't his final wife anymore... well, she's going to end up in the basement with the rest. @genufa wrote an interesting analysis on this concept here.

Now, let's zoom out and view the whole conversation from Will's perspective:

Will can't let go of the fact that Bedelia emerged from Hannibal's influence completely unscathed, whereas Hannibal took--and continues to take--everything from Will. He's operating on his understanding of the Chesapeake Ripper: "Contrapasso. You play, you pay." So why does Hannibal make Will pay again and again and again, while Bedelia got away with mere psychological torment? According to Chesapeake Ripper logic, that would mean Bedelia is preferred, right?

Before this conversation, Will doesn't understand how Hannibal expresses love ( @suchawrathfullamb wrote a lovely post about this). He thinks that everything Hannibal did to him (encephalitis era, prison era, honeytrap codependency era, Mizumono, the Primavera human heart, the attempted brain-eating in Dolce) was out of pure sadism. If Hannibal found him more interesting than Randall, Margot, and his other violent patients, it was only because his empathy and involvement with the FBI made him a rare specimen.

[BOOK TANGENT TIME! Oh boy, my favorite!! :D]

Will's misdiagnosis of Hannibal's ability to love was inspired by this piece of hack psychoanalysis in chapter 51 of Hannibal:

^ This is clearly posed as an incorrect interpretation of Hannibal Lecter:

Yes, Hannibal is excited by distress, but he loves those who bear distress beautifully, with strength, courage, and discipline. This is how he comes to care for people like Abigail, Jack, and Bella. And, of course, Will suffers the most pornographically beautifully of all.

[END BOOK TANGENT]

"It's distress that excites him," Will thinks. So it catches his attention when Bedelia says of his forehead scar, "It excites [Hannibal] to see you marked in this particular way." Why? Why this particular way? Is it a mark of ownership (the metaphorical facial theory)? A symbol of the permanent effect Hannibal had on him? This is Bedelia's first hint that Will's distress means more to Hannibal than punishment or sadistic entertainment.

When Bedelia turns the Bluebeard analogy back on Will, it finally clicks for him that distress/destruction/consumption is the pattern of Hannibal's love, and the fact that Hannibal tortures Will more than anyone else means that Will holds a place of honor in his heart. With this context, Hannibal's attempt to eat his brain becomes an act of adoration. The mark on his forehead becomes a laurel wreath.

To answer your first question, I don't think "Bluebeard's last wife" is a great analogy for Will.

First of all, Bedelia never called him that. She implied that Will was becoming the next wife, emphasizing the threat associated with Hannibal's affection. Bluebeard's last wife would've ended up in the basement too if she hadn't been clever enough to escape, and Will doesn't seem particularly clever to Bedelia at this point. Even Will admits his surrender: "I don't know if I can save myself, and maybe that's just fine."

Second of all, Bluebeard's last wife betrays him to the authorities, and Will does the exact opposite in TWOTL. I guess you could interpret "I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time," as "I'm planning to kill him myself," but passionately embracing Hannibal before gently dragging him off a cliff in a failed murder-suicide doesn't read as "Bluebeard's last wife" behavior to me.

If Will is to be Bluebeard's last wife, it's because Hannibal's love for him breaks the pattern, meaning Hannibal is no longer Bluebeard. A true fairytale ending. <3

[ultraviolencevinyl]

how to get perfect grades from a short attention span girlie that nobody asked for

when you get home from school, rewrite all your notes from all the important classes that day (if you’re a british slag like me then just do all your gcse subjects)

learn how to do deep work: work for a really long period of time with barely any breaks where you don’t get distracted and get shit done — having noice cancelling headphones whilst listening to white noise etc works best for me

don’t let anything distract you, put your phone away in another room, etc

if you can’t concentrate, before your revision sesh, stare at a still object for 1 min to help with your focus

have a schedule/a weekly routine!!! i know you’re lazy and have been avoiding making one so here’s my routine: on school days I rewrite all my notes from the classes (that you care about) that day and do some homework then leave the rest for the weekends

mindset is EVERYTHING. be positive about everything in your life and stop being a pessimistic bitch. everything will be okay. jeez.

for music, find a few white noise/focus music playlists and listen to them with noise cancelling headphones for most intense focus (linking my fav spotify playlists below)

write everything out by hand. don’t be lazy you dumb fucker and type everything up on quizlet. quizlet is bullshit and you know it. it’s been scientifically proven that writing things out help you remember them better

go over things early in the morning and late at night (quickly proven to stick in your brain more)

find what works best for you. find your perfect environment, music, time of day to revise, method etc. i work best in my room after 4 pm by using flash cards I have written out by hand

don’t let food distract you!!! if you have snacks nearby but you’re eating them instead of working then put them away

have an app for revision. study bunny if my favourite one it’s so cute but it doesn’t distract me

holidays are a blessing. dedicate some time every day in the holidays for revision, even if it’s not a lot

have a good balance between school and other hobbies. i would say have a good social life but i honestly don’t think having one is that important. or at least it’s not important to me, but if you want a good social life then go for it

have goals for the future, like if you want to go to uni and where you want to go if you do, what field you want to specialise in, etc and work towards them

if you want to exceed in school then you have to make revision and academic excellence your coping mechanism or a safe haven to calm you down

reading books, especially literature helps so much with everything. not just your vocabulary but it also helps your understanding of the world and helps you see everything in a different light. and don’t give me that “but i do read” bullshit because tiktok smut twisted love twisted hate icebreaker all that crap that you’re not even old enough to read don’t count. my fav books if you need any recs: the virgin suicides (not literature, just well-written), the secret history (not literature, just well-written), girl, interrupted (again, well written but not literature), crime and punishment, carmilla, dracula, alice in wonderland, emma, pride and prejudice, sense and sensibility, much ado about nothing, a midsummer nights dream, rebecca, the outsiders, little, women and loads more

delete social media if it worsens your mental health or your grades. deleting tiktok has been the best decision of my entire life, i was so unhappy for so long because endlessly scrolling was a coping mechanism but now im actually happy for once in my life and my grades are quite good

pray like you didn’t revise and revise like you didn’t pray

i have to have a number 20 because odd numbers besides 13 and 7 annoy me

thank you

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

a little fic update

Due to needing a fresh start I deleted more than half of my WiPs. Because my goal still is to finish all my WiPs this year. So I only kept the ones where I actually have written something and not just three sentences. I saved the ideas though. I have a Fic Idea document that is three pages long so if anyone is looking for fic ideas let me know. Or I'll make this a writing challenge/follower celebration in which whoever is willing gets a random fic idea to write from this document

I will work on a Joel fic this weekend and then for September as my own personal challenge I wanna write the second part to my Dave York fic You, the next part to invisible string (I want to finish this little series until October) and one sequel to a fic that you get to choose. I already put up a post last week asking for what fic of mine you want to have another part from and some people let me know what they would want to read. So please choose from the ones below

Find the fics in my Masterlist

And for everyone still reading and interested in what I have planned for the rest of the year:

A Halloween Marcus Pike fic in which he touches a bronze cat figurine of a new drop of stolen artefacts that brings him back in time to the witch who put a spell on all her stuff because it kept getting stolen, though she never anticipated her spell to work so well it travels through time. Now she has to figure out how to bring this strange, very good looking, man back into his timeline... or does she?

An arranged marriage AU in which Javi G has to marry the very young daughter of a crime boss to keep the peace, only to end up falling hopelessly in love with her and they both decide to bring down both of their families

A Dieter fic where a big scandal he caused left him no choice but to flee the country to wait until this blows over with his PR Agent who books them both into a four week stay on a private island to spend christmas together. And maybe (wink wink) they finally figure out that whatever they have going on for the last ten years is more than just a professional relationship

Christmas Tree Farmer Pero who against his will falls for the sunshine reader who gets hired by William to save his Christmas tree farm (I am looking for a co-Writer on this fic! If you're interested send me a message!!)

The last six parts of the Stay Universe (most likely short fics)

Only Fans Dave York (if my brain can decide on the actual plot of the fic for a change)

and the last two parts to my Soulmate Joel AU Counting stars

and if I actually manage to write this all like I planned I am gonna give myself an award. Or.... take myself out to a very fancy Chinese dinner lol

[smoooothoperator]

Beautiful Stranger

07: Trouble In Mind

Driver! Lando Norris x OC (Lily Barton)

Summer love, strangers to friends to lovers, Greece and Greek mythology references

Words: 1.5k

warnings: the start of the angst, social media au, third person pov

Masterlist

Official playlist

previous part | next part

a/n: we are at the start of the angst. It's about damn time his lie exploded him in his face! But don't hate Lando, love makes us do stupid things

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Never in his life he felt the way he was feeling in that moment. 

He's a driver, a racing driver. He can drive a car that goes 300 km/h and leave his thoughts in the garage. He has no fear once he sits in the car. 

But right now, driving a camper and knowing that the girl was laying on the bed reading a book, he feels bad. Actually bad.

He feels like someone that committed a crime. He feels his heart heavy, bleeding, being scratched. He can hear his own heartbeat, with a white loud noise in his ears.

Ever since that night when she confessed her feelings, he couldn't sleep, making his mind work and punishing him, reminding every decision he had made the previous weeks. 

"You should have told her" his brain says. 

He can't tell her. Not now. Never. Maybe once he leaves he can text her explaining everything. Maybe she will understand, and forgive him.

Or maybe not.

For once, he wishes he was someone else. He wishes he's Logan, the guy that came to a town in Greece, that is a beginner DJ and has the most beautiful neighbor he has ever seen, who he fell in love with. 

He loves her. How can he not love her? She's the girl of his dreams. She can cook whatever he likes. She plays video games. She is so passionate about what she likes. She's interesting, mysterious. And the most important thing is that she loves him too.

No. She doesn't love Lando. She loves Logan.

"Logan? Are you okay?" she asked him, leaving the bed and walking towards him.

"My head hurts a little" he sighed shaking his head. "It's okay, I'll stop a little"

"I can drive, love" she sighed, placing her hands on his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Just stop the camper whenever you can and we can switch"

"No, it's okay" he sighed. "You said there's a town with a beach nearby. Maybe we can spend the rest of the day there"

"Okay" she smiled, kissing his cheek again.

Every kiss she gives him burns like fire on his skin. Every hug, every tender touch, every moan feels like daggers on his heart. 

And he knows damn well that he deserves every dose of pain he receives because of that.

He stopped caring about their surroundings. He held her all the time they were in public, kissing her whenever they stood in front of something amazing. He wants to enjoy every second next to her.

He stopped using his phone. He deleted every social media app had: Twitter, Instagram, Tik Tok. Everything. Sometimes he texts his family to let them know that he's still alive, but nothing more.

She felt so happy. So happy around him to the point of wanting to leave this place and go wherever he goes.

She feels like a girl that finds true love for the first time. Like a teen that opens a letter of the boy she likes telling her that he feels the same way as her.

She feels joy and love, something she never felt in her life. Her family didn't love her, they made everything possible to make her life a living hell. She was forced to get married to a man she barely knew, forced to go through the experience a bride should go through when she loves a man. 

She felt free, able to do whatever she wanted, live wherever she wanted, study what she loved, and love how she wanted to love.

She chose who she can trust. Who can know her past, who will have her contacts.

Lily Barton was dead. She was Lily, who was sent by the Gods to help the people of that town. And she believed that, she wanted to be someone else so bad, she wanted to erase from earth her origins.

Logan came to her life when she didn't know she needed someone.

He was a man so easy to love and so simple, yet so complicated at the same time. She learned how to love him, how to cherish him and make him feel how he deserves.

They let their carnal desires do the work and then they let their hearts talk, getting into something that seemed like summer love.

"Oh, Logan! Look at that!" she gasped, holding his hand and walking around the town they discovered.

They were traveling around the country like a couple, taking pictures of each other and doing things people in love would do. The exterior world didn't exist.

Both of them tried to ignore the feeling of a farewell. Both of them know that once they arrive at Parga, they will have to say goodbye.

And she hates feeling that way. She hates thinking that she won't sleep next to him anymore, wake up next to him or kiss him. 

Does she regret falling for him? No. Not at all. 

Love is beautiful, and loving him is even more beautiful.

And blind.

It was supposed to be a calm summer. He wanted to have a calm summer without problems.

He regrets lying to her. He regrets not telling him who he is. He regrets everything.

But not loving her. He doesn't regret the kisses and the laughs. He loves Lily no matter what will happen.

"Logan, really, are you okay?" she sighed, hugging him and placing her head on his chest.

It was the perfect moment to tell her. But… why can't he do that? Why is he feeling a hand choking his throat?

"I am… don't worry" he whispered, hugging her. "I don't want to arrive to Parga… I don't want to say goodbye"

"I don't want to say goodbye neither" she whispered.

She can't see his tears. She can't see his panic, how it increases every kilometer he drives closer to Parga. 

What started as a perfect trip with the girl he started to love, is finishing as a nightmare, hunting him even in his sleep.

"I wish I could go with you" she sighed, drawing shapes on his chest. "To the parties you make, and listen to your music"

He didn't say anything. What parties? What music? What he does is drive a car in circles. Sure, he likes to go to parties and tries to be a DJ, but for fun. 

"You would get bored" he whispered. "And you belong here, Lily… the people of Parga need you"

"Before I came here I had a different life, Logan" she frowned. "I can live wherever I want"

"Lily, no" he sighed. "You fought to come here…"

She felt how something changed in him. He was distant, trying to avoid talking about him. And it hurt her. 

She trusted him, she told him everything about her. He did too, but when she asked about his family or about his job, he always changed subjects.

Love is blind. And she was so in love with Logan.

The day they arrived to Parga, they didn't notice the people looking at them when they drove down the streets towards their apartments. They didn't notice the people talking, gossiping. 

The rumors spread quickly: the driver and their girl, both of them together. 

None of them saw that coming. No one imagined that the mysterious girl would fall in love with the foreigner.

"Is it me or everyone is looking at us?" Lily asked him, taking their things out of the camper.

"Let it be, Lily" he sighed. "I'm sure they were asking where have you been"

"Yeah… maybe" 

She walked inside the camper to grab their backpacks and their phones. Lily noticed his phone was burning, it had a lot of notifications on it, but she decided to ignore it.

"Can you undo my backpack? I urgently need to take a shower" she sighed when they walked inside her apartment.

"Of course, don't worry" he smiled, kissing her cheek and taking the bags to her bedroom.

She was relaxed, humming softly a song that was stuck in her mind. She was happy to be back, but at the same time she was sad. Logan has to leave in a few days.

Meanwhile, after he placed her things in her room, he sat on the bed looking at his phone.

He's in trouble. People saw them together. He let the guard down and stopped looking around to check if someone recognized him. And now because of that there are a lot of pictures of him kissing and hugging her.

"What can I do?" he sighed, talking with Carlos, leaving the call on speaker while he folded her clothes. "I'm so screwed, dude. I don't know how to fix this"

"I told you from the very first minute that you had to tell her the truth" he sighed. "This was a balloon and it's going to explode soon"

"It won't" he frowned. "I can't let her know!"

"Then what? Are you going to run away and not show up again? Are you that cruel? I never imagined you could do something like this" the Spanish man sighed. "I'm so disappointed with you, man…"

"I… I just…" Lando mumbled, sitting on the bed and feeling how he was drowning.

"I know, you love her" he sighed. "But you deserve whatever happens. In that way you'll learn the lesson"

"And how? How should I tell Lily? How should I tell her that I'm not who she thinks I am?" Lando asked, hopeless.

"Tell me what?"

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster8 @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @celestialpierre @ophcelia @msliz @lorarri @ironmaiden1313 @imsorare @mycenterfold @im-an-overthinker @soosheee @karmabyfernando @landoyesrizz @sticksdoesart @beatricemiruna

[jenyifer]

Book List Time!!!

And with that I have 10 give or take books to discuss. Now I’m up to over 30 books since May woooo telling tumblr about each one has been a great motivator so I hope my reviews and list help people out in a non spoiler fun way. Gonna rank these in order I want to reread them.

1. Green Creek the series by TJ Klune 🏳️‍🌈🐺🌶️🌲 Wolfsong Ravensong Heartsong Brothersong I am obsessed. Literally read all four books in 3 days. I have bought physical copies and marked them up. Will make you cry, laugh, and stay in your heart forever. Just……. Go read it. But the quick synopsis is Powerful Humans Wolves Witches have to pay for the sins of their fathers over and over again while maintaining their found family and finding their true soulmates. There is Ace Lesbian non binary rep in here as well.

2. The Warden by Daniel Ford🏳️‍🌈 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🧙‍♀️❄️🪦truly a fantasy masterpiece the romance isn’t the focus but it’s fucking good. First sapphic book to get a 10/10 for me. About a witch(with a magic system that is interesting surprising) growing up and finding herself a family without sacrificing who she is. I loved her and at first you think ehhh is this going to be boring no definitely not. Was surprising made me laugh and cry. Can’t wait for part 2 cause more of the hot gf in there I hope.

3. A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland🏳️‍🌈👑⚔️🌶️🌶️ I listened to this book two times in a row I enjoyed it so much. It’s a bodyguard and prince story. The prince’s depiction of depression anxiety panic attacks was so real. The bodyguard is very endearing. The themes of family are strong and interesting. The mystery was easy to solve but I found it rewarding because I wanted the prince to win so badly haha.

4. Spindle Splintered by Alix E Harrow🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👸🏼🥀😢

Short story about a dying girl who has a special interest in sleeping beauty. It does have a…. Debatably Sad ending. I did enjoy it for what it was trying to talk about. I lost a friend when she was too young. I’m glad I read it.

5. Scumbag Villains Self-Saving System series by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu 🏳️‍🌈🚩⚔️😈🕊️🤓🌶️? I’m putting it up this high because besides that scene in chapter 21 that slapped me in the brain I really enjoyed the series. Only Danmei I HAD TO GET THE REST OF THE SERIES IMMEDIATELY Hell I’ve even now written fan fic for the side ship. About a Nerd being put into his favorite love to hate stallion novel (story about a hero who fucks his way to success) but he’s in there as the abusive villain who the hero is destined to kill. The nerd has to save himself and unintentionally builds himself a harem featuring the most red flag the hero who so sololy motivated by the nerd. It’s great easy to read very fun. But 🌶️ scene in book 3 is a definite skip and delete from memory.

6. Case File Compendium Vol 1 by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 🏳️‍🌈? 😈🚩🩸🕵️🥼

I did just finish reading this so maybe I’m bias but I really did find it a book I couldn’t put down. I even brought it with me to work to read a chapter during my lunch breaks. Main characters are heavy in their homophobic lifestyles but they kiss and protect each other? True crime and mentally ill characters. MC is has a fatal mental illness that makes him unstable and MIL was his former private doctor. MC is trying to date MIL’s little sister. While getting up to shenanigans they stumble into a corrupt hospital and evil forces are maybe after them?! Idk its exciting fun to read but only if you like 🚩’s

7. The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish Vol 1 by Xue Shan Fei Hu 🏳️‍🌈🐟👑🎨🖼️ I did genuinely laugh my ass off during reading this book. It was incredibly easy to read I think I finished it in 4 hours. Very cute. I love the inside and outside art. About a nonverbal Prince who has anger issues and his crush on the modern man who is trapped within an ugly little fish. Now yes the Prince is becomes actively in love with the fish. Lucky for us we are stuck in the man who is trapped as the fish’s pov and he is genuinely just trying to get back to his world by obeying the powers that be System’s prompts to go home. Fish is not trying to seduce the Prince or anything. It’s just funny I had a great time with vol 1 probably will read vol 2.

8. So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole 🏳️‍🌈👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨🐉🏝️ while having dragons and diverse cast it ultimately falls short of expectations wishing for more depth and clarity. The asexual spectrum representation feels muddled and Jamaican inspired cultural elements are unexplored which is at odds with its rich backdrop that could have enhanced the story. The story’s mystery element lacked cohesion resulting in a frustrating bittersweet ending that suggests a sequel and left me unsatisfied. I won’t read the next book. Won’t suggest it.

9. Faithless Book2 by C L Clark 🏳️‍🌈🚩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩⚔️👑😩 a big let down from book 1 but I’m locked in for life I guess. Luca is back in France navigating a way to get the crown. While Touraine shows up with a priest and Teen to some how get food for her people. Most of the plot feels useless both MC characters are stupid and do no growing. The new teen character was interesting. I disliked the poly romance I didn’t particularly feel comfortable about Touraine and Luca why not add another person in what could go wrong? Luca’s reign as Queen looks to be very bad and you will feel extremely disappointed at the end. I’m going to read the next book but only because I like the characters who didn’t go to France.

10. Self-Made Boys by Anna-Marie McLemore.

I read 90% of this book and I regret it. It’s a trans characters as the leads gay retelling of the great gatsby. I was truly excited to read it I’ve read The Great Gatsby many times. However this book just laughs at the source material. I’m tempted to say maybe the Chat GPT’d the plot and didn’t ask for any over arching themes in the book. I couldn’t do it I’m gonna have to find a better trans representation book in my next set of ten.

DNF’s

Last Night at the Telegraph Club, The Once and Future witches, Gearbreakers, the emperor and the endless palace.

[jamieithink]

My theories on this deleted scene...

As soon as Peder Lindell (plays Morgie) posted this a million thoughts and ideas to what it could be flooded my brain, I'm finally sharing them. If you like Descendants: The Rise of Red, I think you would enjoy reading my theories.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Note that both these theories all end up with Morgie in detention with the rest of his friends.

~Also note I'm going to call 'Uliana's crew', the 'VK's' instead because it's easier.

My theory ~

After a while of the VK's not hearing his signal (the wolf howls, meows, etc.), Morgie decided to go inside. He sees Merlin escorting the VK's out and he hides until Merlin and the VK's are gone. He then goes into Merlin's office and grabs the book. The he either...

A. Opens the book because he doesn't know that it freezes them. Then he gets frozen, leading to Merlin catching him, ending him up in detention.

OR

B. He grabs the book and takes it to Uliana's lair for the VK's. He's super happy and proud that he finally did something to help his friends. Then Uliana quickly turned his happiness to disappointment and she became furious at Morgie because they might be in more trouble from Merlin now. Morgie decides to turn himself in, he goes to Merlin and gives him the book so his friends won't end up in even more trouble.

I feel like these are things Morgie would do. With him being very excited and Uliana killing his excitement. Those are my theories, ik they don't make too much sense but I figured it would be nice to share them for other Descendants ROR fans, hope you liked reading :)

[wittlesissyb4by]

The White Rabbit - Chapter 2: Workload

I spent the rest of that night with images of Persephone swirling in my head. Or, I guess, what I thought were images of her. I had no idea what she looked like. But in my imagination she didn’t really have a face, kind of like in a dream, or when you read a book. The characters just kind of have this fuzzy blur that your brain says “yea, that’s face, you just don’t need all the details, right?”

It was the allure and presence that I focused on. In such a short time Persephone had a profound effect on me. Unlike anyone else I’d met online. Even the girlfriends I’d convinced to let me wear their panties in real life, they always had this awkward, uncomfortable sense about them.

Not Persephone. She breathed confidence even through the screen. She knew what she wanted, and she would get it. But she also had this weird compassion in her texts as well. Like she genuinely cared about my well-being even though we’d just met, and she was supposed to be a dominant figure.

I masturbated two more times that night. I even did it like she told me to before, using just one or two fingers on my ‘clit’ until I burst into my panties.

I didn’t have to keep them on, there was no way for her to know or verify, but I did it anyway. I don’t know. It felt like I was honoring her in some way, being obedient even when I didn’t have to. 

I woke up early the next day without having to even use my alarm. Usually I snooze it 5-7 times before begrudgingly clambering out of bed, but I couldn’t wait to message her again. 

“Hello Goddess,” I sent, eyes still adjusting to the light of my screen. 

I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. My panties were hard and crunchy from the mess I’d made in them. I pulled them out from the depths of my crack and tossed them in the hamper, checking my phone again for a response. None came.

I took a shower, keeping an eye on my watch for any sign of a message.

Nothing.

I got out, brushed my teeth, and stared at my phone. Not a single notification.

It’s early. I told myself. She probably hasn’t even woken up yet. Just have some patience.

But I had to keep repeating that mantra the whole day for the next 8 hours. I must have looked like a mad man, checking my phone constantly after typing on my computer for only a few seconds. 

I should have known it was too good to be true.  Girls like that don’t come around often, and if they do, they hardly ever stay. She probably was off spreading those videos of me dancing around like a pantied pansy to anyone and everyone she possibly could on the internet. Or was she really just kidding? Maybe if I offered her money she would stay? That’s what girls like her usually want, right? To take advantage of a pathetic sissy eager for attention and domination? I don’t blame them for exploiting that crowd, I’d probably do the same if I could.

“How much would you like for a tribute…” I typed out, then deleted, reworded, then typed basically the same thing again. None of it sounded the way I wanted. I didn’t want to come off as desperate, but also, I was kind of desperate…

But before I could figure out what to say, my phone dinged.

“Hey sissy! Sorry, I was at work. I hope you were a good girl and had a fun night in your sticky panties :P” 

I was washed with relief and elation. It was amazing to just be talked to again, I found myself getting instantly hard.

“No problem. I wasn’t sweatin’ it at all,” I lied, “But yea I’d say I had a little fun…😅”

“Oh I’m sure you did! How many times did you touch your clitty again after we stopped talking?”

It wasn’t if I had touched it, but how many. How did she know me so well already?

“Two…🙈” I replied, not counting the load I deposited while in the shower that morning. 

“Haha! You little slut! What are you doing right now?”

“I’m at work.”

We went through the ins and outs of our respective careers. I had a boring office job, and apparently hers wasn’t much different. It required her to basically be on the phone all day, so conversing with sissy losers on Kik wasn’t always an option.

“Did you wear your panties to work, sissy girl?” she eventually asked.

“No.” I told her truthfully. I’d always thought about it, but for some reason deciding to do so on my own never really appealed to me. I’d much rather have someone ‘force’ me to do it. I am perfectly aware that that doesn’t make any sense at all. 

“Oh, well you will be tomorrow 😉” 

******

The next day I was typing away at my computer again, shifting back and forth and trying to get my lacy pink panties to sit comfortably against my nether region. 

They were covered by a pair of slacks, the tails of my button-down, and my suit jacket, but for some reason I still felt exposed. I glanced awkwardly at anyone that walked by my cubicle, half-expecting them to walk up, point, and laugh at my panty-line poking beneath my pants. Or, they would laugh at the other thing poking beneath my pants. My dick hurt from being consistently hard for so long. It didn’t help that she was constantly sending teasing messages. Apparently she wasn’t as busy today.

“How do they feel, princess?”

“What’s it like being around superior men all day?”

“What do you think the other people would say if they knew their co-worker was wearing pretty pink panties?”

“I think you should go to the restroom and give your Goddess a little peep show ;)”

I gulped. A mixture of fear and excitement coursing through my veins. I could feel my heart beating through my chest again, that strange chill going up my spine as my brain kicked into submissive overdrive.

I don’t know if my speed was too fast–or noticeably slow–as I walked. Whatever it was, I must have looked highly conspicuous. Maybe they just think you really have to take a dump. I told myself, but it was somehow in Persephone’s voice. Not that I even knew what her voice sounded like. Again, my imagination was running wild, maybe I was imagining this whole thing?

There were already two people in the restroom when I entered. One was washing his hands while the other fixed his hair. They looked at me through the mirror and I muttered something unintelligible in response before awkwardly making my way into the stall. 

I didn’t pull my pants down, just sat right there on the toilet and waited for them to leave. It seemed to take forever, but they finally made their way out. My hands were shaking as I unclasped my belt, pulling my slacks down to my ankles. The air felt cold against my clammy skin. My balls were poking out the sides of the panties a bit, and chafing on the areas where the hem was rubbing them raw. I opened my phone and took a quick selfie of me sitting on the toilet, keeping my face out of it.

“Your panties are already wet from your leaky clitty! Hahaha I think someone is enjoying this…”

I looked down in disbelief. Sure enough, the front of the panties had a noticeable wet spot from precum. I felt my face flush.

“I want you to send a video of you tinkling in the potty like a girl. Stay seated, princess.”

I found it unnerving that she often used infantile language like ‘tinkle’ and ‘potty’, but I didn’t say anything. I was happy just to have her around. Those minor critiques we could work on later. 

I pulled the panties down to my thighs, being sure to not go too far so they could be seen beneath the base of the stall. The notion of having to pee hadn’t occurred to me until that moment. I’d been so preoccupied with the anxiety of the panties that I didn’t notice the fullness of my bladder. It took a second for my dick to switch from horny to urination mode, but eventually I was videoing myself trickling into the toilet. My cock was small enough when limp that I had to push it down to angle it into the bowl. Otherwise, my little acorn would shoot straight forward and make my panties even more wet. 

Someone came into the bathroom while I was midstream. I gave a sharp inhale, holding my breath and stopping myself from peeing. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, and the panties were high enough around my thighs that they couldn’t be seen below the stall, but for some reason having someone come in while I was in such a compromising position made me wary. The video was still rolling, I felt like it would be too conspicuous to stop it now. Again, it didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t thinking straight. 

Finally, the man finished his business, skipped washing his hands, and walked out.

“You got so scared you forgot to wipe!” she teased when I sent her the video. “Now pull those panties up, and turn around so I can see that cute wittle tushy of yours!”

This was a little more difficult. I didn’t exactly have anything to set my phone on in order to take the video with me in sight. The only way to do it was to set my phone down on the floor, and prop it up using the kickstand on my case. This put me in a precarious position though. What if someone walked in and saw my phone on the floor? What if they saw the video I was taking of me bent over against the wall, flashing my girly undies?

I was caught between the confines of wanting to please her, and wanting to keep my job and dignity. If girls dominating submissive sissies was a regular occurance, I might have stuck with the latter, but I knew I had to cling to this rare opportunity with all my might.

I reasoned that if someone did walk in, I could just scoop my phone up quickly and claim that I’d dropped it. Not the most believable, but I doubt anyone would care enough to think too much about it.

I hit record and quickly turned around, hands on the cold tile. I swished my hips back and forth in an attempt to look sexy. In reality I probably looked absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t know how long I should go for, so I counted to 30 in my head. It seemed like a reasonable enough time, even if I counted a bit faster than an average second. 

“Imagine if someone had you bent over right there in the stall! Taking advantage of that sissy ass!! 😈”

Before I could wrap my head around what she meant by that, my phone dinged again.

“I want you to cum in your panties again. I think you know how to do it properly by now. You have 3 minutes.”

Again, I was caught off guard. 3 minutes was not a very long time, and I’d already masturbated way more than usual in the last few days. 

That didn’t stop my dick from springing up though. It was lifting the panties up so high off my skin that my balls hung easily out the side. I put my phone in selfie mode and hit record again, not wasting time cropping my own face out with the angle.

I tickled the crest of the little tent I'd made. Swirling my finger over the slick fabric. It was wet with a fresh batch of precum. I snaked my finger around until I found that sensitive spot I’d learn to use so well. If I pressed too hard, I would pop my clit out of the panties, and I'm sure Goddess didn’t want that.

It was such a thrill doing something like this. Having a girl force me to not only wear panties to work, but to also have me model and masturbate in them for her. I felt so naughty, so slutty, like I was finally doing something exciting in my life of mundane bullshit. I’d spent so many days going through monotonous autopilot that I’d forgotten what it was like to feel any real emotion. I felt alive. My skin was buzzing with excitement mixed with a tinge of fear. My anxiety was high, but at least no one was in here to—

The restroom door clanked open. Dress shoes clicked along the tile floor, walking down the line to the stall next to me. The man stepped into the stall, turned around, and dropped his pants. 

I was somehow shivering and sweating all at the same time. “You have 3 minutes.” Persephone’s ‘voice’ rang in my ear.  I wasn’t sure what would happen if I didn’t complete her task within that window, but I didn’t really want to test her. What if she gave up on me altogether? I’d had women do that before. If I refused to do something super weird like dress up like a furry or wear a freaking diaper, they would ghost me right then and there. 

I didn’t have time to wait for the man to finish. I had to keep going, I’d already lost significant progress, and the video was already 2 minutes in. I had 1 minute left to go. 

The man was letting out some violent gas, followed by the gush of his bowels emptying into the water. It wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting for a masturbation session.

If I didn’t have one hand on my clit, and the other one holding my phone, I would have plugged my nose. Instead I had to push through with my eyes watering and fighting back the urge to gag.

There was no way he could hear me rubbing my silky panties, but I still felt conscious of every little sound I made. I’d been on the edge of cumming before he walked in, I lost significant progress, but it didn’t take long to build it back up, despite the distractions. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep my pathetic whimpers from escaping, I still probably wasn’t completely silent, but I fought it down as much as I could. I had to finish, I wanted to be a good sissy. A good sissy for my new Goddess. I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to keep her around so she would keep using me. Teasing me. Humiliating me. Making me do depraved things like this.

Unhh, unnhh, unnnhhh…I grunted, spewing my semen into the silk of the panties. Of course, it was right as the sound of the man’s obliteration of the toilet ceased and the room had gone quiet. I prayed to every higher power that he hadn’t heard me as I quickly uploaded the video and sent it to Persephone. I had to sit there and wait for her response in case she wanted me to do something else. The tension in the room was tangible, or maybe I was just imagining things again. Regardless, the silence was deafening.

“Such a pathetic little sissy girl! Now pull your pants back up over your creamy panties and get back to work!”

******

She was constantly pushing me further down the rabbit hole. The next day I had to cum in panties while at work again. But this time I had to do it in the middle of my own cubicle. Right there, right under my desk, beneath my slacks. 

At least my “rub the clitty motion” was inconspicuous, though I was starting to miss wrapping my hand around my cock and tugging.  It was more efficient, and not as emasculating. Again, I had to bite my bottom lip to keep my cubicle neighbors from hearing. 

After blowing my load in my panties, I praised myself for not wearing khakis that day, otherwise a wet spot would have probably appeared, like I didn’t shake enough times after peeing. Speaking of peeing, she made me ask for permission to go to the bathroom, and I had to video it so she could be sure I was doing it sitting down and ‘tinkling like a princess’. It was little methods of control like that drove me wild. Having someone controlling almost every aspect of my day was something I’d always wanted. 

Of course I had doubts that Persephone was a woman, I thought about asking her for a picture, but I didn’t want to ruin it. What if she really was a man? What if she was a she but didn’t look the way I pictured? I didn’t ask her because I didn’t know if I’d like the evidence. So I decided ignorance was bliss, for now…

“How do you call yourself a sissy, but you’ve never sucked a dick??” She asked. 

“Idk…” I replied, “I guess I don’t really want to…”

“Do you not want to? Or do you not want to *admit* that you want to?

Damn. She got me. Looking back, when I would watch porn with a girl in a sexy school girl outfit, sucking on a big, juicy cock, I guess I always imagined being her more than I imagined being him. 

When I eventually evolved to sissy porn, I would only seek out the ones with ‘unwilling’ submissives being ‘forced’ to perform the act. In my head, they were only doing it because their dominating Mistress told them to, not because they enjoyed it. Which is probably why I never went out and sucked a dick on my own. I’d never had a Mistress or Goddess to tell me to. 

“I think it’s time to admit what you truly are.” She said, “I want you to tell me that you’re a little cocksucker.”

I was sweating, fixing my tie that felt like it was choking me. “I’m a little cocksucker.” I replied. 

My own cock was growing in my panties. I didn’t even say the words, I just typed them. So why was I getting so hard?

“Do you like dick?”

“Yes Goddess.”

“What do you like about them? Be specific.”

I had to think about it. I had to picture them. The ones I’d see in porn that I couldn’t take my eyes off of sometimes. 

“The veins.” I said. “I like seeing the veins down the shaft.”

“What else?”

“The head.” It was spewing out of me now. “The big bulbous head, and the…”

“The what?”

“The cum. I like seeing the cum. 😔”

“Hahaha! Of course you do! Have you ever tried your own?”

“No.” I lied. 

“Oh, well you definitely will be soon 😉”

I tried to think of something to say, but my brain or subconscious kept me thinking about getting a warm load in my mouth. 

“I want you to answer honestly.” She said, so I braced myself. “Are you hard in your panties right now?”

I didn’t need to look down to know the answer, but I did it anyway. There was a sizeable tent that my slacks did a terrible job of hiding. 

I cringed as I typed out my next message. “Yes Goddess…”

“Bahaha!! Just from talking about dicks?”

My eyes squinted shut. “Yes Goddess…”

“Sorry, I'm HOWLING! Is there really any denying what you are?”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “I guess not…”

“I think you need to tell me again.”

“I’m a little cocksucker.” I typed and sent. 

“No no. I want you to *say* it. With your mouth.”

“…How?”

“By recording your voice you dumb bimbo.”

“Ok. Do I need to go back to the bathroom?”

“Nope. You can do it right there at your desk.”

I was sweating again. That familiar thrill of doing something naughty and exciting. But I could hear the keys clacking in the cubicles next to me. Someone was on the phone. A woman. She sounded miserable. Maybe if she heard me she would be more entertained. But I hoped to god she didn’t. 

I flicked my video on for what felt like the 100th time in these last few days. I tried to find my voice. It seemed to be escaping me, like it was afraid to say the words I’d never, ever uttered in my life. 

“I’m a cocksucker.” I whispered into the microphone. My dick felt like it was about to burst. How was I still so turned on after masturbating so much? Just from saying a few words?

“I’m sorry.” She said after I sent it. “I just couldn’t hear…I think you need to do it again. Louder this time. Like you’re proud.”

I didn’t think I could go any louder without someone hearing me. But I tried anyway. 

“I’m a cocksucker.”

“Again. But you’re also a sissy slut, in case you’ve already forgotten…”

“A cocksucking sissy slut.”I bellowed into my phone.  It felt so shameful, but also exciting. Like something I'd been fighting to admit to myself my whole life. I always wanted it, but I guess I didn’t know how much I wanted it until she showed me the…evidence. 

Her reply was a black box. I figured her message failed to send. I tapped it to make it reload, but when I did, a sweet, seductive female voice came through. “I’m gonna whore that little mouth of yours out. You know that, right?”

I didn’t even reply. Just sat there dumbfounded, feeling my heart pulsing through my cock. 

She’s a woman. 

It only later hit me (after replaying the sound bite several times) what she actually said. I spent the rest of the day wondering whether or not she was serious, and if I’d go through with it if she was…

To be Continued 

Chapter 6 of this story is now up on Subscribestar. Go check it out!

[siilvan]

Solitude

Characters: Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder

Summary: The feeling of being alone. (Or something like that.)

Genre: Light angst? Idk, it's just sleep-deprived rambling lol

Warnings: Semi-proofread, light cursing, some mentions/allusions to canon-typical violence, again it's just random shit

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: I wrote this in a few hours because I've been an emo bitch lately and figured I'd do what I always do when I'm sad, AKA take it out on my oc (◡‿◡) I might leave it up, I might cringe after I wake up and delete it, who knows honestly? I promise I'm working on things people actually want to read, btw

If Petra was one thing, it was a woman not easily phased by trivial matters. War, violence, exhaustion, death – all things she was experienced with. All things she knew how to handle on any given day. She earned both her call sign and her position for exactly that reason, even.

Now, if Mylène was one thing, it was a woman constantly weighed down with the things she faces on any given day. War, violence, exhaustion, death – it haunts her every waking moment. She had learned to deal with it over the years, how to put a pin in her emotions for the sake of getting the job done. People needed her to be the steady hand, so that’s what she became.

She never quite learned how to deal with the loneliness, though.

"Just call me if you need me, okay? Any time, I don't care when or where. I'm there."

The words felt foreign as soon as they left the captain's lips. She wasn't used to hearing that. She was always the one people came to rely on.

A heavy sigh escapes Mylène's lips as she unceremoniously flops down on the sofa with her old scrapbook in-hand. It was a hobby her mother had, one she didn’t understand until it was too late to even tell the woman that she learned why she loved it so much.

That's another thing she was. Sentimental. All she ever seemed to do when she was alone was reminisce. The good days, the bad days, the moments that she was sure went right in and out of anyone else's brain – her first sniping lesson with Price, the first time Nikolai called her "Mila," the first time she heard Ghost's genuine laugh, when she and Soap discovered their mutual love of art, the one single time she almost beat Gaz in a race… small moments, but ones she held close to her heart.

As she flips the near-overstuffed book open, she's immediately greeted with another memory. One she was honestly surprised she could still recall so clearly, considering she was only six years old during it.

A photo, taken in the dead of winter. Her family was in the states, visiting her aunt and uncle for Christmas. They were at the dinner table – her aunt was to the left, her honey blonde hair tossed over her shoulder as a few streaks of silvery grey finally started to show, with a three-year-old Emiel sitting in her lap and babbling away to her. To the right was her uncle, the grey in his dark hair and beard far more visible as he leaned back in his chair, a soft smile resting on his lips as he watched the six-year-old in his lap frantically scribble away on a piece of paper with a crayon. In the back, standing in the backyard and visible through the half-open glass door, was her father – younger, not yet the man she knew him as – and her two cousins, tossing a football back and forth and laughing away. Even her childhood dog was there, a blur in the picture as she ran after the ball.

Her mom wasn't in the photo. Judging by Emiel pointing somewhere behind the camera, she was the one taking it.

The more Mylène thought about it, the more it almost became funny. There was a point in time when she was surrounded by people, almost too many for her to keep up with. Her gaze lifts from the page; she tries to ignore the wetness clinging to her eyelashes as she looks around her living room. Other than her, it's empty. Her brother was somewhere else in the world, surely finishing another sensitive mission that Laswell assigned to him. "I want the best for the job," she always says. Her aunt and uncle were still in the states, but every time she thought about them, all that seemed to come to mind was how they lost fifteen years to the anger of her father.

After years of losing people left and right – allies, entire teams, patients in her care, civilians, friends – maybe it was for the best that she was alone. Even the task force had some close scrapes over the years, moments when she worried about losing one of the people she had come to consider a second family.

Mylène closes the scrapbook with a heavy thud and sets it down on the small coffee table in front of her. She shifts, pulling her knees up to her chest and eyeing the cellphone sitting next to the book. It was silent, save for the occasional spam email or update from her superiors. If she wasn't a woman ruled by her sense of pride, she'd consider sending someone a message.

Maybe she could text Freya and ask about her progress with the recent training exercises she gave her. Or, maybe she could text Christine for an update on the new batch of recruits. Maybe she could even come up with some lame excuse to text Olga, ask her how she's doing after her company rapidly expanded out of the blue.

No, no… She's a woman with too much pride for that. Johnny, Kyle, Simon… She didn’t have a viable excuse for bothering any of them. Between their work and their partners, she doubted any of those three had time for her, anyway.

Price? No, definitely busy with the missus. Nikolai? She can never predict what he's up to, but she assumed it was probably work or his own love, too. Laswell? God, what weak excuse could she even come up with in that scenario.

"Any time, I'm there."

She lowers her head and lets her chin rest on top of her knees. She was only home because she had to be – the captain claimed she was working herself to the bone and needed the time off before she ran herself ragged.

"You can take a week off," He chuckles, patting her shoulder before squeezing it in a firm grip. "Everything'll keep running when you're gone, I promise. We won't fall apart without you."

She laughed at the time. "Just give me a call if Johnny blows one of his fingers off, he's already almost done that three times this month alone." She said.

Was she selfish for feeling a pang in her chest? "It's natural to want to feel wanted," she can already hear someone wiser than her saying. Who could she actually say that to, though? Everyone around her was too busy and too interested in their own lives. She was just… well, herself. Lieutenant Petra; always stable, always the guiding hand, always the last one to complain when times get tough.

Her phone buzzes as the screen flashes to life. She picks it up and sees her brother's name in the notifications. When she clicks into their messages, it's a picture of him sitting in the back of a helicopter, his gear half-stripped off but his mask still on, covering the lower half of his face and leaving his smeared eye black and messy hair on display as he gives the camera a little thumbs-up.

Always his way of telling her he's okay after a mission. Whenever she was sent out, she'd do the same. Mylène sends a quick reply – "Try and spend more than three days at base when you get back." – and turns her phone off again.

It would be easy to message someone at this point and tell them the truth. "I'm feeling lonely, do you have time to chat?" are just nine little words. She was always the one telling her teammates and the soldiers under her command to reach out if they ever needed her, and yet the thought of doing the same felt like an impossible goal.

She turns her phone on its face and leans back against the cushion. After years of being her own shoulder to cry on, why was she suddenly feeling so lonely? She didn't need to be coddled, she didn't need to be someone's baby, she was always capable of relying on herself and no one else. She promised herself that the last time she broke down in front of someone else would be the last time she let herself do something like that. She didn't need it. She could take care of herself.

Mylène pushes herself off the sofa, worrying at the inside of her cheek. Everyone has their priorities and people they're already focused on caring for. She has herself, and that's all she needs. She doesn't need a shoulder to cry on or someone who knows how she's feeling all hours of the day.

"Verdomme…" She lifts her hands up and presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. "Get it together, Scholten…" She mutters in the empty room, drawing in and releasing slow, deep breaths until she can lower her hands to her sides once more. She handles it, just like always.

She has herself, and that's all she needs.

[topazadine]

"I've Outlined Too Much and Now I Can't Write!" (Or: the Double Outline Method for Overanxious Plotters)

I see this a lot. I do this a lot. So let's talk about outlining, and how you truly can have too much of a good thing.

In 2022, I tried to write your typical boilerplate samurai novel called Birds of Japan. Standard fare: bisexual daimyō in an arranged marriage with a retainer’s daughter who prefers getting off with his karō (second in command), but slowly comes to love his wife after she helps him defeat a rival lord. Sword fights, gay sex, beheadings, abductions, etc etc, who cares.

I could have made something interesting out of it, especially if I added way more gay sex, but I got 119 pages in and never finished.

Well, that page count is disingenuous. Only 67 of those pages were actual writing.

The rest? All outline.

That’s right. Fifty-seven pages of outline. And there was even more, because I deleted the outline as I went along.

Does this sound like you? Do you have dozens of pages of outline, worldbuilding, character reference sheets, and so on? Okay, good. You're my target audience here.

If you don't have this problem, then congratulations! You are a good and moral person who doesn't torment yourself with outlines. You have nothing to learn from me in this post. You're golden.

Now, back to my fellow overplanners. Why are our Game of Thrones-sized outlines a problem? They create a lack of motivation.

Excessive Outlining Tricks Your Brain

In my post about spreadsheet word counts, I discussed intrinsic motivation, which is when you create goals and compete with yourself in order to get more done. The issue is that you can ruin your intrinsic motivation by planning too much.

This is called mental rehearsal, which Dr. Dev Rowchowdhury, a performance psychologist, explains:

Mental rehearsal involves imagined, mental practice of performing a task as opposed to actual practice. That is, when engaging in mental rehearsal, one imagines performing without having to actually do anything. Using Mental Rehearsal to Boost Your Performance and Well-Being in Sport and Exercise

This is all well and good for athletes, who cannot be physically performing their chosen sport at all times. Sometimes, they need to think through their actions and envision themselves performing it as they should.

However, it goes out the window for us writers. Yes, we do need some form of mental rehearsal, which we then capture in an outline. But if we fantasize too much, we have made our brain believe we’ve already done it. Given that we don’t need kinesthetic memory but actual execution, over-outlining is deleterious for our craft.

At other times, overplanning might cause analysis paralysis. Jodi Clark, a Licensed Professional Counselor, describes it as thus:

Analysis paralysis refers to overthinking a problem to the point that it becomes more difficult to make a decision. It often happens when people are overwhelmed by their choices or have too much information to sort through before they make a choice.  What Is Analysis Paralysis? How Overthinking Affects Your Decision Making

In short, you are doing so much thinking and planning that when you need to do the real work, you can’t because you’re overwhelmed by how much you’ve already done.

I think it is a combination of these two factors that leads to the heartbreaking posts from new writers who have spent months, or even years, daydreaming about their characters and planning their book, but then find themselves completely unable to work. They have rehearsed everything so much that now they have no motivation to continue.

But I’m not telling you to completely give up on outlining.

Planning is good, but not good when you become so rigidly obsessed with your outline that you can’t feel creative: now you’re just following orders you gave yourself and providing no space for different execution.

So, as with everything, whether that is descriptive density or characterization, you need to come to balance. How are we going to do that?

Think Once, Outline Twice

Or just be a heron. They don't think or outline. If only we all had that option.

Anyway. For this method, you will have a long outline and a fast outline. The long outline is where you get out every single thing that you want to include in a given scene, chapter, etc. Anything that you know you may want to have happen, you put it here.

This double outline example is from my beloved fanfic, "Midsummer Nightmare," but I've used this same method while writing The Eirenic Verses.

The words here don’t really matter, so don’t strain your eyes. You just need to see that it’s pretty long, a page for one chapter. I’ve mentioned the conversations, the way that everyone acts, their specific movements that show their emotions, a few snippets of what I intend to write, etc. All very helpful: I can see exactly how the story is going to go.

However, if I work off this, I don’t really have much room for creative freedom. It will feel like I’m plugging in piece after piece, line after line. I may even find myself tempted to tell rather than show because I can no longer visualize things other than what I have already told myself.

When beta reading, I can tell who used long outlines; their sentences read as if they are ripped straight off their planning document. Do not do that. Unless you have written a specific phrase in quotes that you want to use, or a really good piece of dialogue, follow this adage:

What goes in your outline stays in your outline.

You’re not using any of that; it serves as a reminder of what you actually want to write. So, now that you have things set up for yourself (but not written), you want something faster that will not stymie your creative process.

Next, make a fast outline that has only the most relevant plot points.

Much better: only a quarter of a page. I don’t have the action beat for beat, so I know I have to make it up myself in the actual writing. None of this reads as something that would actually happen in the real text (at least, I hope not) because it’s so boring and straightforward.

There are no showing details, almost no dialogue, no real feel for how the scene plays out. Now I feel like I have to get it done myself.

But! And this is a big, voluptuous but.

You Still Have Your Long Outline as a Lifeline

Because this fast outline only covers the most general of plot points, you might not include things that you really wanted to add in there, specifically regarding tension, setting, and so on. Thankfully, you’ve got it right there for you in your long outline, which you can scurry back to if you don’t know what to do next.

Sometimes we set things aside for a while and come back utterly bewildered about what we were trying to do, which is where the longer outline comes in.

We can refamiliarize ourselves with what we wanted to do, then put the long outline aside and turn back to the fast outline. This way, we’re not being tricked into thinking we’ve already done all the work.

I have already finished drafting the 8th book in my series, Perseity, and outlined the 10th, Plexity, because I did the project completely out of order. Now I have now jumped allll the way back to the very second book and will be working my way forward again. To be quite honest, I’ve already forgotten half the stuff that happens in Perseity and have a very, very vague remembrance of Plexity.

But that’s okay! When I’m finally ready to work on Perseity and Plexity, I have my long outline right there. I’ll then cut it down, just as I did before, and I will have a good working knowledge of how I want to proceed.

Many times, the long outline works as a type of “background program” as you write. You have the details in your head, but you’re not staring at them while you work, meaning you’re not tempted to copy-paste them right into your document.

Okay … I hear you complaining right about now.

“But Topazadine, that’s so much extra work! Why not have only the short outline in the first place?”

If you can work off just a few lines from the jump (or are even, dare I say it, a pantser), then that's amazing and I wish you the best of luck. However, not everyone is like that.

I'm talking to the people who plot, and plot, and plot like their lives depend on it because they get anxious not knowing where the story is going to go. Or they just get so excited about figuring out all the plot points that they kinda forget about the writing part.

So sure, it is a bit extra work: removing lines from the long outline, deciding what is so essential that you need to have it available to you, and checking back in with the long outline if you really have to.

However, this way fights the pesky mental rehearsing while still allowing you to plan ahead. It is the way that you can get it done but still have your big long comfort-object outline.

Double Outlines Give You the Best of Both Worlds

You get to meticulously plan without overwhelming yourself. You have some of the freedom that pantsers enjoy, but you also get the comfort of outlining – without sacrificing motivation.

A lot of times, I do the long outline and then never look at it again; I’ve memorized most of what I want to do and can follow the short outline. However, because I don’t have my full plans right there to review, I don’t feel like I’ve already done the work: I know I need to actually write the real thing.

This method works well for those who get anxious about the idea of pantsing but struggle to retain their motivation once they’ve completed their outline. It’s also great for those who have spent a lot of time analyzing and daydreaming about their work, to the point where they don’t even feel they need to write it.

If you often find yourself paralyzed after planning, consider double outlining.

Double outlines are simple and effective. Though they may seem like they take much more work than just a short outline, it’s actually not that hard to distill your plans into a brief. In fact, many use a similar method for developing their synopsis before they start to write, allowing them the freedom to cut everything down before they try to query.

Of course, no tool works for everyone. If you try this and don’t like it, you have my blessing to never do it again. Everyone is different, which is why writing is such a wonderful craft!

Knowing that there are other strategies can be incredibly helpful if you’re new to writing and have no idea where to start. I’m always happy to share, and I hope you get some benefit from dipping your toe into double outlining.

And, since I have demonstrated my utility to you, perhaps you'll consider purchasing my debut novel?

9 Years Yearning is a coming-of-age gay romance set in a fantasy world with poetry magic. It follows two young men as they grow from sorta-enemies, to frenemies, to friends, and finally to lovers.

If you do read it, please don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are essential to getting visibility on Amazon, so every single one is golden to me.

[kichimiangra]

Prior to my life falling apart with the loss of Vinny and Rufus @readasaur had been sharing with me his "Ape Escape Pirate AU (Variant)" which is an variant AU of his "Pirate AU" which is an AU of my "Nannersverse AU" I think(?). So an AU of and AU of an AU of an AU of an AU

But I'm a whore for Pirate AUs. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

The gist of it is "What if the cast where pirates but also 'girls gone wild' spring break edition horn dogs as Specter, the Duke of an empire is 'Kidnapped' by the pirate crew (not checking for stowaways) after a raid of an empire ship as he now gets to live out his kidnap/enslaved-by-pirates-sexual-fantasy until the plot catches up with him and the crew.

I wrote and story boarded this in a day between installments so it's sorta like writing a fic between episode releases Where info hadn't been revealed yet.

Below the cut is the AU text up until the point I storyboarded for context. If @readasaur makes it and rest available via one of his accounts I'll Link this to his instead.

I would have just answered these from my inbox but in my brain not working I deleted the asks while archiving them like a dipshit.

Be warned:

There is NSFW in parts.

1.

Pirate AU (Variant)

(Just to warn you, spoiled nobleman Specter does not have as much of an advantage as you would think; Captain Natalie isn't putting up with his nonsense. And as privateers, the protagonists are not as benevolent as usual)

The sounds of chaos were putting Spike in a chipper mood. The Twins were wreaking merry havoc, Jimmy was throwing cannon balls to marvelous effect, Captain Natalie was laughing like a mad woman, and even First Nate Jake was at serious risk of cracking a smile. And they were fighting apes! Apes in little sailor outfits! Spike had known that the best and worst things happened at sea, but this! He couldn't help but whistle a chipper tune as he knocked out a gibbon guarding a very interesting door. The lock was formidable, so he took his usual tactic of simply hacking his way through the wall, making good time as someone within screamed in mortal terror. When he'd created enough of an opening, he forced his way through the broken wall and saw a lovely room with the prettiest ape man he'd ever seen in his life cowering on the bed.

"Who... I mean, how dare you! I am Duke Specter, heir to the Empire of Hands! Throw down your weapon at once and you will merely be executed for this outrage!" The pretty ape man said, rallying himself admirably.

Spike gave a mocking bow with a flourish.

"Begging your pardon for the intrusion, your lordship! I've just come to relieve you of your valuables and then I'll be out of your silky white hair!" Spike caught the hand that was pointed at him and kissed it gallantly. The duke looked flustered, snatching his hand back as Spike strolled to the book shelf nearby and began taking anything that caught his eye and tossing it into his loot sack. He didn’t pause when he heard the telltale 'click' behind him, he immediately moved down and to his left in a spin as the pistol bullet hit directly where his head had been, scattering the pages of what had been a lovely manuscript. The Duke's eye widened as he saw Spike coming back at him, and his other hand was raising a letter opener when Spike tackled him to the bed. He was surprisingly strong for such a dandy, though still no match for Spike, who soon had him bound up in spare rope with his hands tied to his legs. He began shouting at Spike in a language he didn't recognize and Spike gave him a condescending pat on the head before resuming his looting. He'd finally switched back to English by the time Spike's plunder bag was about full and he'd turned back to the trussed up noble.

"-Your ancestors will feel your pain from whatever miserable afterlife they scuttled into! From the marrow of you bones to the tips of your hair, your body will be an epitaph of agony! You will rue the day you first beheld the sea! I will- wait, what are you doing??" His tone went from ferocious to fearful in moments as Spike's calloused hand closed in on his rump, pushed out as it was by the way he was tied.

2.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Spike's sea worn hand closed around that soft, goat like nub of a tail.

"Begging your pardon, your lordship, but I have never had the opportunity to hold the tail of royalty. No way to know when such a chance will pass my way again, can't risk missing out. My, this is a fiesty little thing! Feel it wiggle like a fish on a hook! A fitting tail for such a firey fellow such as yourself!" Spike teased him, intending to embarrass the little upstart. He wasn't expecting the gasp that escaped the ape's mouth, or the way he pushed back against Spike's grip. The human tilted his head curiously, and gave an experimental tug on the tail, earning another gasp. A third tug with more intent now, getting the duke's spoiled rump up to get smacked firmly by Spike's other hand. That was certainly not a cry of pain.

The privateer coughed, feeling as though his plan had backfired.

"Ah. Well. Begging your pardon again, your lordship, I'll be off now." Spike said quickly, heading to unlock the door.

"You're leaving? YOU'RE LEAVING?? YOU GET BACK HERE AND FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED, YOU CAD!!" The duke shouted at him from the bed. Spike didn't turn around, he tugged his hat down to hide his blushing face and hastily left through the now unlocked door, the duke's outrage following him down the hall.

He put it out of his mind as he emerged on deck, holding his bag aloft to the cheers of his shipmates. No one was headed back empty-handed, and Blood Haired Jimmy held an entire treasure chest by himself. They crossed the plank back to their own ship and left the apes to try and collect themselves after being so thoroughly thrashed by the Independent Privateers. There were more cheers and rum was being poured even before the last foot had hit the deck on the good ship Laborious Endeavors. It was a good day all around, and Spike could forget that strange noble in the finest company a sailor could ever want.

So he very nearly didn't recognize him when he found the ape lounging in his cabin after he'd finally stumbled to bed.

3.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Spike was a little drunk, so it took him a moment to catch up with the situation and comprehend that there actually was a nobleman ape in his bed wearing a fancy ruffled shirt, silk pants, and reading one of Spike's books.

"What?" Spike asked, in general response to what he was seeing. The duke closed the book and rolled over, splaying himself provocatively.

"Oh no, I've been captured. Woe is me." He said, fighting down a smile.

Comprehension was dawning horrifically on Spike, who smacked himself in the face.

"You can't be serious. We left your ship behind! We're privateers! This is not a pleasure cruise and you are not safe here!" Spike tried to inject some severity in his tone. From the way the duke's eye gleamed with interest, he was fairly sure that the problem wasn't himself.

"Oh? And what are you going to do with me?" The duke asked, his chest rising and falling with each excited breath.

Spike narrowed his eyes at him.

"UNHAND ME! THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD IN MIND!" The ape shouted as Spike held him by the scruff of his shirt like a yowling cat. He made his way back on deck. It seemed that only Blood Haired Jimmy had gone to bed and the rest of the crew were still about. Good. This beast-in-heat could be someone else's problem.

Captain Natalie was also slightly drunk.

"What?" She asked, tilting her head quizzically at Spike's squirming complication.

"Captain Natalie, this is Duke Specter, heir of the Empire of Hands,and I'll let him explain why he snuck on board." Spike declared wearily.

To his credit, the duke rallied and lied more easily than Spike expected. He stopped struggling and tried to compose himself as best he could under the circumstances.

"Good evening, Captain. I came here in the hopes of appealing to your good sense and reclaiming our treasure from you without the tedious need to hunt down your crew and execute you all. Surely you must realize that you cannot rob the Empire of Hands and escape? The bounties on your heads will be enormous! Return our property and surrender, and I will attempt to negotiate for some mercy." The duke lied smoothly.

Captain Natalie was unimpressed.

"And save yer own arse from the fire after losing it all to a crew of buccaneers, Aye suppose? Graciously refused, yer grace. Toss him overboard." She said, waving her hand dismissively.

The duke's expression told them that he had not even considered this possibility.

"Wait!! I am the heir of the Empire! Surely you can see I'm worth more alive than dead?!" He shouted, starting to struggle again.

"Yer Emperor has no more honor than Queen Victoria herself! He'd honor no deal, and pay no ransom. Simplest to disappear ye and be done with it." Captain Natalie said firmly. "Run him through with a knife first to ring the sharks' dinner bell before ye throw him."

The duke was at last taking the situation seriously as he struggled in Spike's grip, looking at him pleadingly.

Spike knew Natalie likely wasn't serious. She was negotiating and trying to get the duke to barter for his life with anything he might have left. But Spike knew that the duke had come here with nothing but his own body, and his claim of negotiating had been a lie. So he honestly didn't have anything to offer, which meant that Natalie would be bound to her own order to kill him if there was no good reason to belay it. Spike sighed.

"Wait, Captain."

4.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Captain Natalie raised an eyebrow at Spike. He knew how this worked. Contradicting her was not how it went.

"He's a twit, but that's not a capital offense. Let me mind him till we get to port. I'll truss him up and drop him off, and we'll be rid of him just as surely. He can even share my rations." Now Natalie was raising both eyebrows at him. He wished he could explain why he was protecting the little imp, but it wasn't the duke's dignity he was protecting. He did not want to admit he'd been playing with the spoiled creature and that had lead to this.

"...Bit late to save our souls with merciful kindness, Spike. But very well, he's yours." Captain Natalie said, trusting him enough to leave it at that. First Mate Jake didn't look so easily satisfied, but he kept quiet for now.

Spike returned to his bunk with the duke looking at him with a worryingly fascinated gleam in his eye. Spike tossed him on the bed and he lay on his stomach looking at Spike over his left shoulder.

"Don't get any ideas. I just didn't want to make the sharks sick with spoiled meat." Spike said, the duke looking not at all fooled. He considered making the duke sleep on the floor, but there was no point to that. With a frustrated growl, he lay down directly on the ape, earning an amorous wheeze him from him. "Stop. That."

"<3" Said the duke in response. Spike was already regretting this.

5.

NSFW

Pirate AU (Variant)

Spike knew what he had to do. He had to kick this fool out of his bed and make his stay on board miserable. He would reach port a disappointed but wiser ape.

He hugged the duke harder as he arched his back.

Okay, not kicking out the pretty ape with soft hair who is extremely willing to be taken. Fine. Just have to be extremely selfish in bed to give him a terrible time and show him what a bad idea this was.

The duke cried out as Spike coaxed him to climax for the third time, his hands on the ape's chest, nibbling the ape's ear, and their hips colliding.

Okay, his personal standards wouldn't let him be bad at wenching. Fine. Just had to be selfish AFTER the fact. Hog the blanket, make him sleep in his own mess, no cuddling.

Spike tenderly kissed the giggling ape as he cleaned him off with a warm wet rag, shifting him over to change the sheet and letting the duke nuzzle his chest when he was done as he held him securely.

Damn it. The duke was going to learn exactly the wrong lesson from all this. Spike resolved to be hard on him later. Ruthless. Make him regret ever stepping foot on board a ship.

He pet the duke's head as he fell asleep, very content.

Later. He'd clear the duke's obvious delusions later.

6.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Nobleman Specter fantasizing about dragging Spike to one of his homes as his personal bed warmer.

"Summer castle or winter castle? He'd make the winter months so much more pleasant, and he could carry me over those cold floors, but the summer castle has the better gardens and François is there and he could make Spike a decent wardrobe to match mine..."

Continues to daydream even as he's being yelled at for not hoisting Blood Haired Jimmy back up out of the water, as is his current job. Briefly takes a break to fantasize about putting Captain Natalie in an iron maiden because she keeps shouting at him for no good reason.

"Now, father would be less of a problem at the winter castle and I could spend all the time I want with Spike without him getting mad about-"

Abruptly realizes that taking a filthy human buccaneer as a serious consort would make his dad the angriest he's ever been in his entire life.

"...I wonder if I should marry Spike in the summer, or the winter? Winter suits me better and we could narrow the guest list, I suppose I'll have to let that horrible Captain Natalie out of the dungeon to attend, but a summer wedding would be so beautiful and it would really capture the proper mood and I would be able to see every detail of father's face in the bright summer light when I pledge my heart, soul and inheritance to Spike..."

7.

Pirate AU (Variant)

"Ah, the suffering I must endure." Duke Specter proclaimed as he swabbed the deck (badly, though he was actually improving) while wearing only a rag around his hips that barely concealed anything. The Twins watched him with great amusement, especially because he was trying to be provocative while he was mopping, which usually meant he either dropped the mop or hit himself in the head.

"...I'm sure he asked, but did you have to give him that to wear?" Spike asked as he approached the two siblings.

"We didn't give him that." Yumi told him.

"We had a pair of pants we'd tailored to his size." Kei said, holding up the pants as proof.

"He showed up wearing that." Yumi continued, as Specter slipped on a wet spot and crashed to the ground.

Spike hastily helped him up and he pretended to swoon.

"Bed time yet?" Specter asked hopefully.

"No, you insatiable satyr." Spike replied firmly, though he did stand directly behind the duke to show him how to swab properly, much to the ape's delight.

8.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Duke Specter approached Captain Natalie while she was carefully repairing a waterproof latern.

"No." She said immediately, not looking up.

"You don’t even know what I was going to say!"

"Ye were trying to smile, ye didn't start complaining before ye got within earshot, and yer palpable aura of aristocratic arrogance has been greatly diminished. Ye want something. Furthermore, ye want to barter because ye came here with only yer clothes and a couple o' books, so ye can't actually pay for anything despite bein' filthy rich. Aye don't accept credit or any "favors" ye could do me, ye depraved little imp, so the answer is 'no'. Now go away."

"...it's buried treasure."

"No such thing."

"Oh come on! You don't know that for sure!"

"No one buries money. They spend it. Anyone who thinks they have money hidden away is in fer a nasty shock when they go to retrieve it, because it's been stolen and spent by someone else."

"I will pay you more than your weight in gold! I have caskets of treasure I could give you for one small detour!"

"Aye respect ye too much to think that ye would pay me one copper coin when ye could have me locked up, me crew in jail, and Spike chained t' the foot of yer bed."

"Thank you. I might keep Jimmy too."

"He do be adorable."

"Look, I just want to go to Similacrum Island. Just for one day. I'll make it worth your while because that's honestly more convenient than getting you executed. You are all more convenient to me alive."

"No."

"...Please."

For the first time, Captain Natalie looked up and saw honest pleading in his eye.

"No. But!" She said, forestalling his outburst. "We are going near Similacrum. Aye suppose if ye want t' stretch yer legs an' Spike is willin' to walk ye around... Aye won't ditch ye first chance Aye get. Ye heathen demon."

"Thank you." It was also the first time he sounded genuinely grateful despite how many times she'd decided against keelhauling him.

It was something, at least.

9.

Pirate AU (Variant)

The duke made full use of his status as a polyglot to complain in multiple languages. First Mate Jake was unimpressed despite the duke's eloquent rant about the lack of proper hygienic standards on board the ship. Spike had hoped that the abundance of fresh water thanks to Captain Natalie's evaporation collectors would help mitigate this concern, but no such luck. Now Spike was reduced to sleepily approaching his errant bedmate as he began to pick up steam and Jake began to glance longingly at the ship's anchor. Before Jake could tie himself or the ape to the weight, Spike reached down and picked up the duke by his waist and lifted him all the way up to his face before firmly biting him on the ass.

"<3!!!!!!!!!!" Said the duke, flailing wildly before going limp. "...what was I saying?"

"Bed time." Spike said firmly, leaning towards Jak to kiss him on the cheek, which Jake accepted despite Spike just biting the duke on his spoiled behind.

The duke likewise accepted his fate and happily snuggled against Spike as he carried him to bed.

10.

Pirate AU (Variant)

It was disappointing that they were going to die so close to a port. The cargo bay was stocked with goods they were going to sell, the guns were dry of ammo, the hull was in need of repairs, they were all tired... all they needed was to resupply and rest somewhere safe, and yet that wouldn't be possible. It was a bit of a downer, and such was life.

The Constant Companion had their scent.

By unspoken agreement, Blood Haired Jimmy would row the duke to safety. The duke wasn't a part of the crew, he had no obligation to stay to the bitter end, and Jimmy was the youngest; he should have his chance to go on. It almost worked, they had convinced Jimmy he could take the duke to port in order to "go get help" and by the time he realized that they had tricked him, he would be safe and they would be beyond help.

The Constant Companion was heading towards them.

The duke was impatiently waiting in the rowboat, and Jimmy was climbing in when Yumi's resolve crumbled and she suddenly suggested that Kei go with them. That broke the dam, and suddenly everyone was volunteering to stay while everyone else got in the boat. Kei said Yumi should go. Spike said Jake should go. Jake said the duke and Jimmy would die within hours if Spike didn't go. Helga said Captain Natalie should go, and Captain Natalie loudly declared that she would never abandon her crew, ship be damned. No one noticed the way that duke flinched when he heard that from her. By this point, even the naive Blood Haired Jimmy knew something was wrong, and got out of rowboat to demand answers.

The duke looked at the crew, all trying to save each other at the expense of themselves, and then looked at the Constant Companion, within sight and getting closer.

The argument was interrupted when the rowboat was lowered from the boat into the water and the duke took off by himself.

"...well, that solves that." Helga said, diplomatically. Spike felt a bit sad to see the duke take off without even saying goodbye, though he was glad that at least one of them would get away.

"Wait, why is he headed towards it?" Blood Haired Jimmy asked the question that they were all wondering as the duke rowed not towards the port, but towards the towering zee beast that was hunting them. Spike was already at the helm frantically turning the ship to try and save him.

"Damned duke!! He would inconvenience us to the last!" Captain Natalie swore as she searched her pockets for anything to load in the cannon.

11.

Pirate AU (Variant)

"Oh, you're so stupid! That's not how life works! Things aren't like how you read them in your silly books! You're going to get yourself killed, thinking like that!" The duke said to himself in a mocking tone as he rowed the small boat, then scoffed. "And then those wizened scholars of pragmatic realism stand around arguing about who gets to be the noble martyr and go down with the bloody ship. Honestly."

The zee beast loomed above him, even at this range. The ship was headed towards him as well, the water carrying the urgent voices of the crew. They treated him like an annoyance and a burden.

And there had never been any question that he would be safely evacuated while they grimly faced certain doom.

Spike had even gotten his books to take with him.

He'd even added his own two favorites from his own meager collection.

Honestly...

Was this how flings at sea were supposed to go?

He glared up at the Constant Companion, its hungry, chittering brood on its back. It was unfair to take out his frustration on a dumb zee beast. He'd never been very fair. The duke moved his bangs away from where they covered his right eye.

He said a Word that had felt like molten lead pouring into his ear when he heard it. It felt like an explosion of gunpowder as he spoke it. The Constant Companion paused, now aware of the danger and too close to escape it. The duke's uncovered eye responded to the Word.

There was light.

Then ten pairs of spidery legs fell into the water, the body of the Constant Companion and its young now no longer there to keep said legs upright.

The duke collapsed into the rowboat, his last conscious thought being that of relief. That Word was gone from his mind. Only a pleasant coldness filled the space where its memory had been.

12.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Duke Specter drifted awake while nuzzling Spike's chest, a ritual he was quickly growing accustomed to. His smile faded when he saw he was in the middle of a gathering and everyone was looking at him with serious expressions.

'Confess to nothing. They can't prove that you stole and ate the raisins.' He thought to himself.

"Yes?" He asked innocently.

Captain Natalie pointed out at the water. He looked where she was pointing and did not see anything worthy of comment.

"There’s nothing there."

"Correct. There WAS a Constant Companion hunting us. Then you vaporized it. Explain."

"Surely you aren't objecting? It was going to eat us. Well, chew us up and feed us to its brood, if you want to get technical."

Helga and First Mate Jake restrained Captain Natalie as she reached for Specter's throat.

"She's asking how you did that, and wants to know why you didn't try that when she threatened to feed you to the sharks." Spike clarified.

"Oh. I used magic, obviously and that wouldn't really help me if I obliterate the ship I'm on. I'm a duke. I negotiate when I get can negotiate and obliterate when I have to obliterate." The nobleman ape said airily. He didn’t mention that he couldn't do that again until he relearned the Word he had used. Or that using so much power rendered him insensible for a short period of time, though they had probably figured that part out. If they thought that he had an ultimate weapon he was simply choosing not to use, so much the better. His attempt at bluffing was interrupted when Blood Haired Jimmy approached him and embraced him and Spike both.

"Thank you, duke. You saved us." Blood Haired Jimmy said warmly.

The duke did not know how to react to this.

Or when the others approached and either joined the hug or reached for him to stroke his silken fur, murmuring their own thanks.

The duke was tightly surrounded by humans who were expressing real gratitude to him and all he could do was freeze in place as his eye flicked around frantically, soaking in their attention without knowing the proper protocol to respond. Group hugs were not covered in his education. Gradually, they released him and stepped away, and Spike set him down. He kept one hand on Spike's hip to steady himself, overwhelmed by what he had just felt.

Captain Natalie did not approach him, she instead met his eyes and nodded once, and he understood. He'd risen from the status of "pest to be protected" to "guest to be respected".

When he had learned that Word, he had never expected to use it protecting a group of humans. As he looked up at Spike smiling down at him, he couldn’t imagine a better outcome than this.

13.

Pirate AU (Variant)

The crew tolerated the duke with wry amusement. He was treating them and their lives like props to live out some bodice-ripper fantasy, and it was a bit annoying at times. For the most part, he stuck by Spike and tried to lure him off for another romp, so he wasn't underfoot all the time even if he was distracting one of the most dependable hands on board the ship. Then again, that was part of the reason they put up with him as much as they did: Spike was always so dutiful in his responsibilities, it was nice to see him just indulging himself and sneaking off to giggle and fumble with the silly aristocratic ape. So the crew got used to duke Specter and his sporadic attempts at doing chores when he was sufficiently bored, and his habit of complaining to fill the silence, and his habit of joining in a group song with a skilled tenor voice, and his mysterious, seemingly random knowledge that he would volunteer out of nowhere.

"If you call the Blue Prophets by the names they're saying, it frightens them for a moment. Don't ask them questions, they're used to that. Don't try to deny the truth of their words, you'll never convince the they're wrong. But if you make them think they misunderstood, you can get just a second of them being worried." The duke said, seemingly unconcerned about the bright blue parrots that were determined to devour the ship with beak and talon while crying out the names of the doomed. Kei shrugged and called out "Hey, Florence!" before he shot it, and it did indeed pause long enough for him to get a bead on it. Soon, the ship's crew echoed back the names as the tide turned against the Blue Prophets and eventually they were tidying up the unnaturally heavy bodies of the birds while the duke grudgingly helped sweep up the brilliant blue feathers that littered the deck. He never explained how he knew that. They just assumed that it was part of his education; after all, the Empire of Hands had zeppelins, didn't they? Of course he would know how to handle an aerial threat.

The abandoned island of Similacrum was getting nearer by the day.

14.

Pirate AU (Variant)

Spike offered the duke some wine, and was waved off. They assumed that it simply didn't meet his high standards. When a lucky find caught them some vintage Hallow wine, he still refused.

"Oh come on, that's as good as it gets!" Yumi said, her face flushed from just a glass.

"I know. I drank too much at one time, and now the smell makes me ill." The duke explained, which also told Spike why he shied away when Spike drank too much.

"Why'd you drink so much?" Blood Haired Jimmy asked, perceptive enough to notice the oddness and foolish enough not to notice the brittle tone.

"...We went on a journey. I didn't want to go." The duke said, his eyes looking far away.

Captain Natalie scoffed, and poured herself a glass.

"What, not enough boys for ye to ogle? Not enough mirrors t' admire yer self? Library no' as big as th' bleeding sky?" She jeered.

"Something like that." The duke replied, glancing at his hands. The bruises had faded, but he still remembered the pain of pounding on the window, screaming himself hoarse for his father to see sense, struggling against the guards as he desperately tried to get off the ship, to do something, anything to help them. If nothing else, he owed it to them to stay.

But no. Father had broken a promise he'd never planned to keep, and humans had once agan effortlessly surpassed the Emperor of Hands in their loyalty. "I would never abandon my crew!" Captain Natalie had declared, expecting to prove it with her life.

He hated the smell of wine now.

It hadn't even helped him to forget.

15.

Pirate AU (Variant)

The duke was wearing a full outfit again, because ports were not as indulgent as the crew about him wearing only an artful scrap of cloth and pretending to be a captive. They were far enough from the Empire of Hands that he didn't need to disguise himself from people who might know his true identity; and the obvious fact that he was a Pentacost Ape meant that no one trifled with him. He drifted behind Spike as they made their way to pick up supplies, the duke not optimistic about the prospects of finding anything truly appetizing in this gloomy place. He was just hoping that they would find anything that wasn't either covered in fungus or actually a mushroom. He was entirely unprepared for a familiar voice to greet him.

"Duke Specter? Goodness and darkness, it is you! How lovely to see you again!"

He turned to face a woman dressed in blue and pink, her head wrapped in linen strips with a bat mask pushed to one side of her face, and a blue gem and a pink gem held by strips to cover her eyes. The pink gem glowed as she beamed down at him.

"Lady Adore? I wasn't expecting to see you here." So much for no one recognizing him. A former ally who had been cheated by his father. This could go badly. Then again, Lady Adore was a strange creature even by human(?) standards.

"Oh, I do get around! How have you been, you dear thing? You're looking much better than the last time I saw you! Dear me, that was a bit of an incident, wasn't it?" Her smile turned to a frown as the pink gem dimmed and the blue gem brightened. An "incident" she called it. What an understatement. As ever, she gave no sign of aggression, though she could be at least as formidable as Spike and his crew. Spike was standing nearby, trying to give them space while also being on hand if Specter needed him. He was very thoughtful that way.

"You were left without the reward my father promised you." The duke said bluntly, almost matching her in terms of understatement. She'd been promised vast riches for her considerable assistance, and been shot at.

"Ah, well, he still has time to make things right. I am hardly his most pressing creditor." She said flippantly.

"I heard. Have they caught up with him?"

"Not yet, but the reckoning can not be delayed forever. They're all frightfully angry, you know."

"And you? Are you going after him? Or me?"

"Goodness and darkness, no! I bear you no ill will, good duke! And revenge is a waste of time. I shall move forward, as ever."

"I inherit everything from father. His assets and his debts. I will pay you back for your services, Lady Adore. You're the main reason that airship was able to take flight."

"Dear, please don't burden yourself. I saw you in the window that day. The last thing you wanted to do was take flight."

So she had seen him. She had been there for the launch, when the Pentecost Apes were to escape the embargo on their grand airship. The day the Emperor took his court, and then betrayed his citizens by leaving them behind, having the guards ward them off with bullets. He'd seen her from the window he'd been trying to break, bewildered confusion on her face before she stepped forward and spread her bullet-proof skirts to protect the apes from the guns. She'd done more for them than he had.

"And who is that handsome young man I saw you with? Have you gotten yourself a beau?"

"Lady Adore, no."

"I'm just saying, he looked quite infatuated with you, and you were smiling so brightly at him."

"Lady Adore, NO."

"Do I hear wedding bells...?"

"Please just demand the money I don't have!"

"You're both welcome to drop by my home! I have a guest room with plenty of privacy..."

"Where are the assassination attempts on my life when I need them?!"

16.

NSFW

Pirate AU (Variant)

The duke didn't know how to coil a rope. He knew it was just a matter of deduction, it was just a damn coiled line. However, the thought of doing it wrong had him hesitating before he'd even begun. One of the Twins approached him, and he was so focused on his task that he didn't notice the change in the human's demeanor. Not until his finger gently circled the duke's ear. The Pentacost Ape froze. Was this really happening?

"Want me to stop?"

The duke shook his head.

"Good. Hands on the wall. Push your hips back."

The duke obeyed. He shivered as he felt the human's hand gripping his hips, and slowly slid back to cup his rump, then up to play with his tail. The duke did not attempt to stay quiet, and the Twin appreciated that, adjusting his touches to coax the duke to make different noises. He was playing him like an instrument, teasing him in the hallway for anyone to notice them. The duke loved it.

Though he did freeze up when someone actually noticed them.

"Hey. I want him too." The other Twin said, approaching them.

"No! I got him first. Wait your turn."

She didn't wait, she put her hands on the duke as well, as though to lay claim.

The male Twin growled, and the duke found his loincloth untied and tossed aside.

"Fine. We'll share. AGAIN."

. . .

When the duke finally stumbled back to Spike's bunk, looking like he'd been dragged to heaven and back, Spike wasn't sure how he felt. The Twins had asked his permission, and he said that they needed to ask the duke instead. He'd obviously said yes. Spike wasn't sure if he felt jealous or possesive. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't indifferent either. As he held the duke close, the ape still shuddering and squirming from the euphoria he'd endured, Spike acknowledged one thing: he was happy that the duke had chosen to stay in his bed with him.

17.

I do enjoy the contrast between Admiral Specter being very body shy and flustered and Duke Specter tearing his clothes off and laying down with his tail wagging.

18.

Pirate AU (Variant)

The duke had not really been listening when Captain Natalie had told them what to look for on this small island, so he picked a location at random and pretended he was searching for whatever it was. (A lamb? Did she say a lamb?) When the Luminous Beggars started to swarm, it was a nice break from the boredom. He casually climbed the nearest stalagmite to survey them out of reach of their claws as they swarmed, noting the scratches on their shells and how aggressively they moved; they were clearly starving and would definitely risk attacking him on the off chance they could eat him. The duke contemplated whether to freeze them or burn them, with freezing being neater but having consequences later, while burning would create the most appalling smell. Then he spotted Spike dashing towards him looking worried, and realized that there was a far better option.

"Help! Spike, help! I'm surrounded!" He shouted, pretending that he was in any real danger.

Spike somersaulted through the air to crush two Luminous Beggars beneath his boots when he landed, which immediately got the others to go after the dead ones rather than more lively prey. Spike smashed three more for good measure when they went after him instead of the corpses, and soon the Luminous Beggars had forgotten them entirely. Spike spread out his arms and Specter felt his heart flutter. Was he really...? Yes, he was! The duke let himself fall backwards, his pulse racing before Spike caught him, the duke's mind reeling that Spike had actually offered to catch him in his arms after rescuing him. Spike carried him back to the rowboat while the duke thanked him theatrically and then suddenly stopped.

"Wait... you could have vaporized them." Spike noted, starting to look annoyed.

"I can't just do that any time I want!" Which was true. "You did save me!" Which wasn't.

This seemed to placate Spik, who continued to carry him as the others came back with a lamp. Oh, they'd been looking for a lamp.

19.

Pirate AU (Variant)

The duke had actually expected Blood Haired Jimmy to be more shy. He certainly blushed easily and it was not difficult to fluster him. But as the human pressed him against the wall and forced his mouth open with his own mouth, the duke had to admit that the boy had surprised him. He was so damn warm! It was like being embraced by a cooling furnace tong, and just as yielding. The duke had a general idea of how strong humans were (less than apes, as it should be) and Blood Haired Jimmy was clearly far beyond that as he effortlessly manhandled the duke however he wanted. He was also a sloppy, clumsy kisser, making a mess of it.

Specter was in heaven. He was being ravished by a gentle brute who could do anything he wanted, and what he wanted was to use the duke, while also ensuring that the ape enjoyed himself. He never moved too roughly, he let the duke adjust to his considerable size, and as Specter spent an uncountable amount of time with his legs wrapped around the human's bare waist, he never wanted it to end.

Later, trembling in Spike's bed as Spike applied a washcloth to him, he was thankful that Jimmy stopped when he did. The duke was dehydrated for multiple reasons, and carefully sipped his water with a trembling hand while Spike washed him. The crew kept insisting that the novels he'd read about romantic buccaneers were nonsense, yet if anything they'd understated the reality he'd experienced on this ship. Even Spike, one of the most staunch advocates for the grim truths of life at sea, was letting him stay in his bed and ministered to him with only sarcasm and eye-rolling as the tribulations that the duke had to endure. The duke let out an especially throaty sigh as he spread his legs wider, causing Spike to pause and gulp before he resumed.

One usually had to pay a sultan's ransom for this kind of thing, and the duke was getting it more or less for free. Of course, the oblivious humans would be repaid, one way or another. They might see him as a pretty freeloader, but the duke always repaid his debts. Spike's washcloth soothed his overheated body and earned another loud sigh, the duke unaware of how highly Spike prized those sounds he made. Spike considered any debt to be in the duke's favor, not his.

20.

Pirate AU (Variant)

There were many things to enjoy about his current situation, the duke reflected as he nuzzled Spike's bare chest. The humans here accepted his title without question, yet the full meaning of it seemed irrelevant to them. He was the heir of the Empire of Hands, and they simply didn't care. No one was cozying up to him for favors, no one was applying pressure to him, no one was asking questions he couldn't answer, and the pressure of his father's attention had never felt so distant. Instead, he was just judged for who he was in the moment, and while he thought it was unfair that he was considered an annoying lout, he was also treated like a pretty and desirable concubine. And he could live quite happily with that. It was so uncomplicated, the relationship he had with these riff-raff ruffians. Even Spike, his definite favorite, was just happy to share his bed and lavish occasionally sarcastic affection on the duke. When the ship had been attacked, it had seemed like yet another problem to join the countless others Duke Specter was trying to handle. Instead, a human had effortlessly dodged his attempt to kill him, subdued him without so much as slapping him, and then manhandled his tail so brazenly that the duke was sure he was having an erotic dream.

Later, he would rationalize his impulsive decision to follow the human as an escape from his father, or a way to ransom himself back to the Empire. At the moment, it had been like being trapped in a room with closing walls, then seeing someone burst in, say "oops, wrong way!" and then leave a hole in the wall after they left. He'd gone through out of desperation, and it had exceeded his wildest hopes.

But most of all, thought the duke who was genuinely a brilliant ape, it was uncomplicated and free of silly love and romance like his novels. Despite being a genius, it truly didn't occur to him that spending a great deal of time around someone who made you feel safe and happy after enduring a terrible ordeal would almost certainly lead to complications. No, he sighed and nuzzled Spike's chest like a lovesick oaf and thought himself a clever ape to have avoided all that.

21.

Pirate AU (Variant)

NSFW

When Helga had asked the duke if he knew the Iron Chant, he had thought she was just testing him. He had no idea why she'd care if he had memorized a very intricate and complicated performance, but he had and proudly told her so. When she had asked to meet her in her cabin, he was very pleased to find that was interested in his services and he eagerly lay on his back on her bed as she knelt on his waist. The only concern he had was that he was not especially practiced when it came to using the equipment up front as he was for the back, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to satisfy her. She had already anticipated this, and asked him to recite the Iron Chant once they hit a rhythm. With Jimmy and Spike, it was like a blissful blur of losing track of time as they coaxed him to climax again and again. With the Twins, he was overwhelmed by the demanding presence of just one of them, and two were an incredibly vivid experience. With Helga, as he endured the edging and kept his mind desperately focused on the Chant, he was very aware of every second in minute detail as time seemed to slow to a crawl as he was ridden at a steady, excruciating pace. It was the longest he'd ever lasted, but his efforts paid off and he saw the normally reserved Helga genuinely lose herself to his ministrations. It was a while before he could again stagger back to Spike's cabin. Spike chose to clean him off with his tongue this time, which lead to more welcome relief. Spike recognized the taste of Helga, and praised Specter for having the stamina she demanded. And as the duke dozed in his arms, Spike wondered why this troubled him. Was he jealous? Did he want to keep the ape all to himself? He didn't think so, but he was feeling uneasy. Was he just being protective? The duke seemed ravaged by his shipmates and came back a deliriously happy wreck if they had him for too long. But he very obviously loved doing it, and Spike didn't want to deprive him of something that made everyone so happy.

...Maybe if he went with him next time. Was there a way to ask that wouldn't sound possesive or distrustful? What would he even do? Supervise? Make the duke take breaks? Join in and hope everyone's combined efforts could finally slake the duke's lust? He pet the ape's head and thought in circles.

(Okay, I may be using this premise to just showcase Specter as a giant slut. I repent nothing)

[kojoty]

The thing about identity is that it changes with the tides of what is happening to you, just intrinsically, so it is very difficult to pattern map exactly what is exacerbating what facet. But, astutely, it has been made known to me that summer Michael is far more stable in identity than winter Michael. Which makes sense. Because when I over book myself to the brim with friends and community and outdoors and tasks in the caliber that one can in the heat and sun-- going honeybee mode-- a lot of the dips and crests even out through sheer pleasant and earned exhaustion by the end of the night. Whereas in the winter.... Not as much to do and far more time spent stuck inside my own brain and head landscape. But then also it is true that I pretty much...... Hm

To say I'm different than last year is no joke, and to say that the me from before June 8th feels like a Ghost is also no joke. But it's not as though I'm completely fresh and new--phoenix rising metaphor and all, even if I cauterize and burned myself down to the ash, the ash still had.... Me...? Inside it. It's like taking a sickly tree and cutting it down to the trunk and letting it grow back stronger. It's different! But the same in many ways. And I have spent month-- 12of them-- crawling out of the controlled burn and trying to map myself. So the 'patterns' I'm noting are, to an extent, not just new, but patterns that I am cultivating and honing and shaping. So much of this is new again. Even without a dissasociative condition-- of which I generally exist in shades and facets of three different main Genres , I've found-- so much of post addiction is looking back at your self in addiction and not recognizing the person in the mirror. Many memoirs and accounts of addiction talk aboht this. They feel alien to you even as they feel the same as you. It feels like a version of you that lies dormant. A bundle of every bad habit and unhealthy coping mechanism rolled into one person that becomes VERY good at lying. But when you cauterize that, you don't just *develop* health over night. You have to work on it.

And that's what I've been doing and will continue doing. Sobriety has helped me prioritize the greatest and most personal project I will ever have the honor of completing-- me. This is all over the place. I guess.... Pattern mapping and finding the patterns in yourself is cool. But I'm just now, a year in to Michael Whit Misha whatever able to see just the beginnings of what that looks like, with a healthy body, a healthier mind, a more keen outlook and insight.

Identity is funny and silly and if nothing else, the freedom to demand and assert that I can be whatever identities I choose to form with deliberation has been monumental in letting those cauterized ashes lay to rest, because at the core of it, addiction personalities are formed from a desire to not just appease those who aren't you, but to delete the aspects of yourself that ARE authentic. And in authenticity I have lost some of those that aren't me. But I've gained a hell of a lot meaningful relationships the more I've been unapologetic and taken accountability for the spaces I should and shouldn't inhabit. And my community and my relationships are the reason for doing it and I am so full to the brim with love every day of my life now. Even on the hard days, at least, I can say without lying that I am trying my fucking best. And I can mean it. Anyways.

Project year 1 complete 👍

[communistkenobi]

this is maybe silly to tell you about but i'm very envious of how smart you seem and the level of grasp you have on theory that feels incredibly scary to me. i was in uni for sociology, and save for one text that i understood from start to finish, the rest of it always felt like it was deleting my brain cells slowly and made me feel stupid, even as smn who had grown up being a "literature" person. i think it's just a matter of getting started, but it all feels embarrassing >>

what I’m about to say is going to sound very masturbatory and self-aggrandising, but that can’t really helped on account of the fact that the topic is what a smart little boy I am

one, thank you! I’m always very flattered when people give me this compliment. I don’t think it’s silly at all. two, I’m pursuing a PhD in the social sciences with the intent to stay in the academy after I get my doctorate, and my particular field of study skews towards critical theory. on average only 1% of people in canada have a PhD, and a fraction of that percentile have my particular academic trajectory - all of which to say, I am an outlier amongst a peer group of outliers, so I’m an extremely bad measuring stick to use when judging your own critical capabilities. I’ve been in post-secondary school for roughly 7 years now and will be in it for at least four more, and for the past 4ish of those years my main source of employment has been teaching and research, so I am both paying for and being paid to read theory and teach it to undergraduate students in small classroom settings. By the standards of academia I’m very junior, but I have a lot of specialised training in talking and reading, which is to say, it’s taken me a very long time to be where I am now. My academic career depends on my ability to produce original thoughts and write them down in a way that both speaks to existing scholarship while contributing new things to said scholarship, so I’m in an environment that enforces a very particular kind of discipline that is not remotely common or normal. Being a graduate student isn’t a rich profession by any means, but you are paid to learn information and write it down - something I would not be able to do if I was working a full time job.

I also frequently don’t understand the shit I’m reading! It’s extremely difficult to read academic texts because they’re meant to be read in classroom settings where you’re forced to voice your confusion, speak with other people about what you’re reading, defend your positions, connect it to other work, synthesise it in essay format, and so on. My live-blogging of books I’m reading is an attempt to simulate that, because I tend to learn best when writing out why I have the opinions I hold. Being confused isn’t a sign of stupidity but rather a simple fact that you’re brushing up against concepts and theories that take people their whole careers to develop and publish.

My own background in academia is also very eclectic, so I know a little bit about many topics, but there are very little topics can I speak authoritatively on - I can’t speak about the state of knowledge on, say, international relations, or critical race legal scholarship, or employment disability policy, but I know vaguely of those things. I’m not even a well-read marxist lol

All of which is to say - I am a horrible metric to compare yourself to. I am one of the few sickos who genuinely wants to remain in the academy for the rest of my life because I sincerely believe in the pursuit and production of knowledge, and my chance to do so is largely dependant on my ability to explain myself to other people. Put another way, I have spent my entire adult life training to be a marginally popular communist tumblrina on a website primarily known for producing supernatural actor porn. So either way don’t feel bad about it