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lucky-clover-gazette · 3 months

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 2

(easily the most chaotic commentary i've done so far)

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

CHAPTER TWO

okay so this is the first of two laurent pov chapters we ever get, and it’s an intense torture/interrogation scene. this works SO well with the “laurent is in a different genre” bit. like the reader is not only getting his perspective, but the entire vibe just shifts. damen is a passing thought. this is a psychological thriller now, full stop, for this chapter. for the first time in the series, a first-time reader gets an idea that laurent is living a totally different flavor of reality than they’ve been reading. it’s genius to put this here and now, right before the reveal, as we’re scrambling to put everything together and hurting emotionally on damen’s behalf. like, fuck the emotions and romance, we’re doing a gritty torture scene. because that’s just how it is for laurent on this bitch of an earth, as a result of his own ridiculous choices and in general

Laurent woke slowly, in dim light, to the sensation of restriction, his hands tied behind his back. Throbbing at the base of his skull let him know he had been hit over the head. Something was also inconveniently and intrusively wrong with his shoulder. It was dislocated.

oh you know i’m annotating every little detail of this man’s internal narrative. for two scenes i get to be inside laurent’s brain and i am taking every opportunity to document things about his way of thinking that are outside of damen's perception. this is cs pacat allowing me to learn things about the way laurent's mind works, that can re-contextualize the entire rest of the series. i am calling these details, which i would not be able to ascertain if not for a single chapter being from laurent's pov, “cool laurent facts.”

cool laurent fact #1: laurent orients himself in a new situation first and foremost based on the current state of his own person—physical, mental, emotional—and his surroundings. from that, he uses inductive reasoning to understand what is going on.

inductive reasoning is a method of thought that typically goes from specific and limited observation to general conclusion. from what we know of laurent, the idea of him using inductive reasoning on a regular basis makes a lot of sense. laurent might be "mr. probably" who does random insane shit, but the truth is that laurent thinks through almost all of his random insane shit before he does it. the exceptions to this are almost always narratively significant, and they happen when laurent's emotions overwhelm his ability to reason things through at all.

so, like, in this quote: "throbbing at the base of his skull let him know he had been hit over the head." the observation is the physical pain, specifically at the base of his skull. the conclusion is that he was hit in the head. it's a reasonable general conclusion, even if it could potentially be correct.

then we have "something was also inconveniently and intrusively wrong with his shoulder. it was dislocated." observation: shoulder is not working as intended, and in fact is so dysfunctional that it's intrusive. conclusion: it's dislocated.

the entire time, as laurent is thinking these things, he isn't actually DOING anything. and this, i think, is what tends to drive damen (and the attentive reader) insane, because with the exception of these alternate pov chapters, we don't actually get to live in laurent's head. while we know that laurent is thinking things through almost all of the time, our confusion comes with the fact that we can't even begin to guess WHAT laurent is thinking. and since laurent thinks before he acts, we are usually forced to reverse-engineer how the fuck he got to the conclusion AFTER the resulting action has actually been taken. and that is exactly why my annotations about laurent are the way they are in the first place.

so what happens when laurent gets it wrong? because laurent's observations are ultimately limited, and he prefers to come to a conclusion before acting, any flawed conclusions he makes can lead to immense miscalculations. to someone like damen, these miscalculations are both frustrating and avoidable, because damen is much more likely to use deductive reasoning instead.

deductive reasoning uses pre-existing general premises to come to specific conclusions. we see it a lot in damen's pov, in which the things he "knows" about the world are what often inform the action he takes. these aren't personal and specific ideas, but extant generalized theories and conclusions, which are then either proven correct or incorrect once tested. in general, this means that damen tends to act first and think second—the opposite of laurent. it's pretty obvious how this can be to damen's detriment, especially since we read the series almost entirely in his pov. a good overarching example of his deductive reasoning is the way his perspective on akielion slavery shifts throughout the series. he starts out in book 1 believing that there is honor in submission, slavery is a pact, slaves are consenting, and all slave owners uphold standards of "decency" just as he himself does. but then as damen interacts more with the world of slaves and pets, and is made a slave himself, he realizes that those conclusions were incorrect. then he assumes a new conclusion—slavery is an irredeemable institution—and acts based on that instead.

the strength of damen's deductive reasoning, compared to laurent's inductive reasoning, is the adaptability it allows. damen gets shit done when it needs to be done. he might get it done in a way that's messy or artless, lacking all of the pertinent details to do it perfectly, but his ability to apply a theory to a situation and then play it out is a great counterpoint to laurent's general approach, in which things are overthought so thoroughly that action is not taken in a timely or responsive manner. like, we literally see that in the wall grate scene in prince's gambit, which is then referenced again while they're discussing war strategy.

of course, this isn't to say that laurent's inductive reasoning isn't also adaptable. he can adapt to a situation by thinking really hard about it, drawing a conclusion, and then making his move. it's just distinctively different to read that kind of internal process from him as a pov character, compared to damen's typical way of thinking. it's part of this genre shift, i think, because it's so stressful and meticulous. this is thriller/crime/mystery genre thinking, not romance novel or war/action novel thinking. we have gone from a pov character who is like 70% impulse-driven, to a character who in his right mind wouldn't even consider following an impulse unless it was thoroughly thought through, at which point it would fail to be an impulse at all. damen is built to be a romantic lead and action hero. i can't really think of literary examples because i don't read a lot of romance and action books, but idk, disney's hercules or adora from she-ra come to mind. meanwhile laurent is built to be in a gillian flynn or [insert more niche thriller authors i enjoy] novel.

all that is to say, this isn't damen's mind anymore, and we know it from the first few sentences of the chapter. if this chapter was being experienced by damen instead, i think the opening would go something like this: "damen woke to the sensation of restriction and immediately fought against his restraints. he was not able to free himself. he also realized, in his attempt and failure to free himself, that his shoulder was dislocated."

it seems like a minor difference, and maybe it is. but i find it fun to contrast the narrative perspectives of these two fascinating characters, and i like making my own observations and conclusions. i started my annotations back in books 1 and 2 with mostly inductive reasoning, making theories from my observations, but farther into book 2 and definitely in book 3 i can now use deductive reasoning to draw conclusions about characters and events using pre-existing theories. if i'm wrong, i adjust the theory, and that adjusted theory becomes the basis through which i interpret future events. and so on. the two types of thought work beautifully together, and ideally we should all be able to use both. that's part of why damen and laurent are able to help each other grow so much as people and leaders—they're balancing each other out by mutual exposure to opposing ways of thinking.

also, another little note on this specific passage: i love laurent's snarky dismissive attitude towards his own pain, and the hint of dissociation from his physical form. i would guess that laurent thinks in a similar way about pleasurable physical sensations, too: "something was inconveniently and distractingly happening with his body. he was aroused." fuckin weirdo <3

As his lashes fluttered and his body stirred, he became hazily aware of a stale odour, and a chilled temperature that suggested that he was underground. His intellect made increasing sense of this: there had been an ambush, he was underground, and since his body didn’t feel as if it had been transported for days, that meant— He opened his eyes and met the flat-nosed stare of Govart.

i love when i predict/analyze something in detail and then it’s immediately proven correct by the following lines. laurent going on this whole inductive mind journey before realizing that govart is LITERALLY IN HIS FACE is sooooo laurent, and so NOT damen. like forget what i said before, if this was damen's pov, the chapter would simply start with "govart stared at damen."

again, this is a great way to immediately let the reader know that things are going to be different from this pov. yes yes yes yes

Panic spiked his pulse, an involuntary reaction, his blood beating against the inside of his skin like it was trapped. Very carefully, he made himself do nothing.

yeah i have a feeling the sex scenes from laurent’s pov would read a lot like this too

The cell itself was about twelve feet square, and had an entrance of bars but no windows. Beyond the door there was a flickering stone passageway. The flickering came from a torch on that side of the bars, not from the fact that he had been hit over the head. There was nothing inside the cell except the chair he was tied to.

he’s just like me fr, both in real life and how i figure things out while writing/playing d&d (“what are the environmental features, and what do they imply?” “what items can be used, and how?” etc.)

He was hit by the memory of what had happened to his men, and put that, with effort, out of his mind.

cool laurent fact #2: it takes effort for him to put aside his concern for the well-being of people he cares about. this is not what most people would assume, based on how he acts and speaks

He understood that he faced his death, before which would come a long, painful interval.

observation: he’s in a prison cell with govart specifically conclusion: he’s going to be killed, but also tortured for a whiiiiile first because govart hates him so bad

maybe that's redundant, but i just appreciate how his pov really is written like an analysis within itself. it's great. he's an observer of his own story, as well as a participant. damen doesn't usually think from such a detached angle

A ludicrous boyish hope flared that someone would come to help him, and, carefully, he extinguished it.

cool laurent fact #3: sometimes, he hopes. it takes effort for him to extinguish hope within himself (“carefully”), but he believes that doing so is necessary in order to assess circumstances like a rational adult. but still, he does hope.

in just this one sentence, we are told so much. we now know that laurent believes that hope is inherently irrational and childish, which absolutely tracks with the other things we know about his character. we can see it in his choices throughout the series so far, and we can understand exactly why he believes this based on his backstory.

Since the age of thirteen, there had been no rescuer, for his brother was dead.

as i was saying, about laurent's backstory,

also. damen exists. he literally threw a sword at a guy trying to kill you in the last book. laurent you are so smart and you are so stupid and i can’t imagine your pov being written any other way

He wondered if it was going to be possible to salvage some dignity in this situation, and cancelled that thought as soon as it came. This was not going to be dignified.

in almost every instance where someone has been given the opportunity to assault or objectify laurent in a sexual context, they’ve taken it. damen is basically the only living exception.

deduction: laurent cannot get out of this situation without being assaulted, so there's no point in trying to salvage his dignity

BUT like, unless i am completely missing something entirely between the lines, govart doesn't even attempt to sexually assault laurent in this scene. maybe that's not what laurent means here, in terms of dignity? curious what people think about this. because like on first read especially, my immediate thought when this scene started was "oh fuck am i going to have to sit through a scene of laurent being sexually assaulted", since everyone (including govart) talks so much about wanting a piece of him. so i guess it's like, was laurent thinking about that here, or was it just me? curious what others think too

also "cancelled that thought" is just slightly anachronistic, and PERFECT. love it.

He thought that if things got very bad, it was within his capabilities to precipitate the end. Govart would not be difficult to provoke into lethal violence. At all.

“if i’m going to die, i’d rather be in control of the dying. and i know i could totally piss this dude off into killing me before he means to do so, and then i would technically win. ha-ha.”

i love the slight hint of childish antagonism here, with the “at all.” like laurent needs to take the moment to roast govart in his own head, while considering the logistics of his own imminent death. it is so funny to me that we finally get this scene, where laurent gets to be in the genre he's been living for the past two books, but no one actually relevant to the story gets to witness it for themselves. laurent is moonlighting in this scene as a character in a book that isn't this book at all. he's taking a break from the romance and realism-based war strategy shit to be an out-of-his-depths thriller protagonist taking on antagonists that should absolutely be able to defeat him immediately, but somehow managing to survive by absurd unconventional means AND being snarky about it. damen has seen hints of this side of laurent, and paid attention, and so have we as the reader. but this is just… full-intensity. the narrative is allowing him to have it, and allowing us to see him have it. it’s like we’ve been only watching the a-plots of phineas and ferb episodes the whole time, and assumed that perry is probably doing some cool stuff in the b-plot, and gotten a few glimpses via dramatic irony… but now we actually get to see the perry b-plot, and it's fucking awesome. but the a-plot cast will still never know.

The chair, made of heavy oak, appeared to have been dragged in for his benefit, which was civilised or sinister, depending on how one looked at it.

yeah this is the internal monologue of a person who grew up reading books more than talking to people. just being witty in the prose of his own brain for funsies

He thought that Auguste would not be afraid, being alone and vulnerable to a man who planned to kill him; it should not trouble his younger brother.

of course there’s the damen of it all, but i also like how this sentence suggests just how often laurent really does think about auguste. looking back at past scenes and imagining laurent having auguste constantly on the mind really adds a new dimension of tragedy to his existence, and further depth to his initially hateful and eventually conflicting feelings for damen. we could have assumed this without seeing laurent's pov, but it's nice to see hints in the text.

It was harder to let go of the battle, to leave his plans at their midway point, to accept that the deadline had come and gone, and that whatever now happened on the border, he would not be a part of it.

yeah forget about my entire breakdown last chapter bc i didn’t want to assume laurent meant to be there and end up disappointed. he meant to be there. good job laurent

The Akielon slave would (of course) assume treachery on the part of the Veretian forces, after which he would launch some sort of noble and suicidal attack at Charcy that he would probably win, against ridiculous odds.

1) laurent refusing to use damen’s name in HIS OWN HEAD is so fucking funny

2) “(of course)” cool laurent fact #3: he thinks everyone is probably going to assume the worst of him the majority of the time, including damen. cool laurent fact #4: he thinks in parentheticals, which makes sense

3) i like how in the same sentence where laurent is trying to distance himself from damen with the name thing, he also admits that 1) he knows damen is a good and noble enough person to fight, and 2) he (laurent) knows that damen is going to win, and is therefore not overly concerned. which means he would be concerned if he thought damen couldn’t win. probably for the best tbh laurent has a lot on his plate already

4) talk about ridiculous odds, laurent, you literally kill someone with a chair in this chapter

One on one: he must think about what he could practically achieve.

me trying to do The Tasks with adhd

Fighting free of his bonds at this moment would accomplish, precisely, nothing. He told himself that: once; then again, to quell a deep, basic urge to struggle.

i like how this is put. i can imagine laurent talking to himself in his head throughout a lot of the series. he separates his base human urges from his rational mind and then uses the latter to placate the former. as long as he can manage to keep reason in control of emotion, this is effective. but when he can’t manage it… lol

also “accomplish, precisely, nothing” is great. he didn’t need to throw the “precisely” in there, it probably just made him feel wittier. even inside his own head to an audience of himself (that he knows of), laurent has to quip

‘We’re alone,’ Govart said. ‘Just you and me. Look around. Take a good look. There’s no way out. Not even I have a key. They come to open the cell when I’m done with you. What do you have to say to that?’ ‘How’s your shoulder?’ said Laurent.

i don’t want to be redundant, but i really am just delighted by this genre dissonance. i’m trying to read more of the romance genre, that's what brought me to capri, but THIS is the shit i'm used to.

The blow rocked him back. When he lifted his head, he enjoyed the look he had provoked on Govart’s face, as he had enjoyed, for the same reason—if a bit masochistically—the blow.

cool laurent fact #5: if the bit is good enough he’ll take the subsequent pain. hell, he’ll even enjoy it

god i want to read a thriller novel with laurent as the protagonist SO BAD. i think if pacat ever writes capri again she should do that, and have damen like. kidnapped. it’s not indulgent romance fluff like summer palace, it’s laurent doing badass chaotic hero shit trying to find his fucking wife

He forced himself to keep his voice steady.

i wonder how many times he thought this throughout the series. probably many

‘I think you have one piece of leverage over a very powerful man. I think whatever it is you have on him, it’s not going to last forever.’

context, as i recall: govart knows that the regent had his brother killed, i think? and he has the evidence to substantiate that claim if it was ever made. laurent pieces this together with guion, somehow, offscreen at the end of this chapter. or maybe he finds out later from loyse? but i feel like laurent is more proactive than that

‘Want me to tell you why you’re here? Because I asked him for you. He gives me what I want. He gives me whatever I want. Even his untouchable nephew.’

again, i'm kinda shocked that govart doesn’t actually try to do anything sexual with laurent here. i mean i'm glad that he doesn't, but also this quote makes it sound like that’s why govart asked in the first place. maybe it was just for violent revenge though, and humiliation?

also, like, how exactly did laurent get here? sounds like his forces were expected and overpowered at the fort, right? and he just kinda… got handed off to govart, under the regent’s blessing and guion’s supervision?

'At some point one of us will dispatch the other.’ He made himself speak without undue emotion, just a mild remark on the facts.

probably not surviving this, nbd (but still actively putting effort into regulating his emotions so he can survive)

digging into this more: i personally have this thing where my response to seemingly insurmountable odds, especially emotional ones, tends to be “once i’ve survived this, how will i explain how i did it?”

this whole approach is demonstrated really well in the masterpiece of a doctor who episode “heaven sent." it's first and foremost a meditation on persistence and grief, which are two themes very relevant to laurent's overall story. laurent’s approach to withstanding torture in this chapter, as well as his manner of survival after auguste's death, remind me a lot of "heaven sent" and my own personal methodology. fuck it, here are some laurent-coded "heaven sent" quotes, as a treat:

"The first rule of being interrogated is that you are the only irreplaceable person in the torture chamber. The room is yours, so work it. If they're going to threaten you with death, show them who's boss. Die faster."

"Rule one of dying: don’t. Rule two: slow down. You’ve got the rest of your life. The faster you think, the slower it will pass. Concentrate. Assume you’re going to survive. Always assume that. Imagine you’ve already survived. There’s a storeroom in your mind. Lock the door and think. This is my storeroom. I always imagine that I’m [here]… showing off. Telling you how I escaped—making you laugh. That’s what I’m doing right now. I am falling. I’m dying. And I’m going to explain to you how I survived. Can’t wait to hear what I say."

"I'm going to get out of here and find whoever put me here in the first place. And whatever they're trying to do, I'm going to stop it. Which might take a little while, so do you want me to tell you a story? The Brothers Grimm… according to them, there was this emperor, and he asks this shepherd's boy, ‘How many seconds in eternity?’ And the shepherd's boy says, "There's this mountain of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it, and an hour to go around it. Every hundred years, a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on the diamond mountain. And when the entire mountain is chiseled away, the first second of eternity will have passed!’ You must think that's a hell of a long time… personally, I think that's a hell of a bird."

it's the small victories, right? laurent can't exactly conceive of an eternity of grief like the endlessly-regenerating doctor, but those seven long years without auguste in vere must have felt like a torture chamber of their own. and, of course, there's this actual torture chamber, which laurent escapes thanks to his insane reckless persistence. what i mean to say is, laurent of vere is a hell of a bird :) i'm glad we get to spend some time in his head.

'If you kill me, whatever it is that you have on him isn’t going to matter. It will just be you and him, and he’ll be free to disappear you into a dark cell too.’ Govart smiled, slowly. ‘He said you’d say that.’

girl that doesn’t make it untrue are you stupid (yes)

‘He said, “The only way to make sure my nephew doesn’t talk his way free is to cut his tongue out.”’ As he spoke, Govart pulled out a knife. The room around Laurent greyed; his whole attention narrowed, his thoughts attenuating.

yeah, this WOULD be the thing that scares him most. last time when he was gagged, it was technically part of his plan. this would be basically a death sentence, because laurent knows that his words are what keep him alive

‘Except that you want to hear it,’ said Laurent, because this was only beginning, and it was a long, winding, bloody road till the end. ‘You want to hear all of it. Every last broken syllable. It’s the one thing my uncle never understood about you.’ ‘Yeah? What’s that?’ ‘You always wanted to be on the other side of the door,’ said Laurent. ‘And now you are.’

“you are a messy bitch who lives for drama. and i AM the drama.”

basically, laurent buys himself more time 1) being alive and 2) keeping his tongue by essentially volunteering to have information tortured out of him. this is actually a pretty classic laurent move—remember all the way back in book 1 annotations, when i brought up this quote from sharp objects by gillian flynn?

"Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you’re really doing it to them… know what I mean? If someone wants to do fucked-up things to you, and you let them, you’re making them more fucked up. Then you have the control. As long as you don’t go crazy."

By the end of the first hour (though it felt longer), he was in quite a lot of pain, and was losing touch with how much, if at all, he was delaying or controlling what was happening.

you know for all of laurent’s comments about damen valuing honor and fair play and Doing The Right Thing, he really has no idea that damen would see this happening and immediately murder everyone involved in getting laurent into this situation

His tongue was intact, because the knife was in his shoulder. He had accounted that a victory, when it had happened. You had to take pleasure in small victories. The hilt of the knife protruded at an odd angle. It was in his right shoulder, already dislocated, so that breathing was now painful. Victories.

love this use of a previous laurent-ism. god he’s made for this kind of situation why is this man in a romance novel (i’m happy he’s in a romance novel if that’s not clear, he shouldn’t have to be in these situations even if it’s entertaining and compelling and badass. being loved is harder for laurent to process than being tortured and that means he’s in the right genre to truly challenge his character into growth and catharsis)

He had come this far, he had caused his uncle some small consternation, had checked him, once or twice, forced him to remake his plans. Had not made it easy.

these sound an awful lot like dying words. the fact that this is the consolation prize laurent gives himself upon imminent death—that he’s won against his uncle a few times—almost feels like a subversion of a heroic martyr. i’m not big on martyrdom, so i almost think it’s more satisfying for laurent to die telling himself he’s Won against someone who’s hurt him, than telling himself he’s dying to save people who love him and still want him around. admittedly he does have that kind of martyr moment later, when he hands himself over at the end of book 3, but... does he even fully mean to die then? i know he has loyse’s testimony in his back pocket. is his intention still to survive, even then, or is he just satisfied that loyse could potentially bring down the regent once he's gone? idk, it just doesn't feel quite right for laurent just to give up his life completely, even if that's how damen interprets it. even then, i think he'd still have the intention to somehow survive, or at least Win against his enemies. laurent isn’t dying for anyone’s sins—if he’s going to die, he’s taking the sinners down with him, and probably counts himself among them.

i'll make sure to revisit this when the time comes.

His only advantage was that he had managed to free his left hand from its bonds.

personal tangent but this reminds me of the time my level 1 sorcerer was arrested in dungeons and dragons and she shoved her hand up her sleeve and replaced it with a mage hand, so it looked like she was handcuffed for her trial but actually wasn’t. and then she used the real hand to flip off the council running the trial and escape. she and laurent would get along

Because it was impossible to hear anything, he reasoned—or had reasoned, when more detached—that whoever had put him in here with Govart would return with a wheelbarrow and sack to take him out, and that this would happen at a prearranged time, since there was no way for Govart to signal. He therefore had a single goal, like moving towards a retreating mirage: to reach that point alive.

not him waiting for his corpse uber… and someone pushing the wheelbarrow who he can turn against govart. i like how laurent seems to have already made this plan, but this is the first time we hear of it. even in his pov we aren’t getting every single thing in his head

Guion’s voice. ‘This is taking too long.’

BOOOO TOMATO TOMATO

His voice was a little hoarser than it had been starting out; his response to pain had been conventional.

“his response to pain had been conventional” god he is so fucking funny.

laurent, rolling his eyes as he swirls the glass of water he’s using to swallow the maximum safe dose of ibuprofen: “my physical human reaction to torture is just so… banal”

Laurent closed his eyes, wrapped his unsteady left hand around the hilt, and pulled the knife out of his shoulder.

i’m listening to an instrumental music playlist right now and an acoustic cover of lady gaga and ariana grande’s “rain on me” came on the second laurent ripped out the knife

The hilt of the knife was slippery.

love how this doesn’t say “with blood,” because it doesn’t have to. also i took a quick break from reading and now there is an instrumental cover of “death of a bachelor” by panic! at the disco playing, which is rather appropriate for this scene

As, with his ruined right arm, Laurent swung the chair. The heavy oak hit Govart in the ear, with the sound of a mallet striking a wooden ball. Govart staggered and went down.

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Laurent focused all his remaining strength on the task of reaching the barred door and placing himself on the other side of it, dragging it closed behind him and turning the key that was still in the lock. Govart didn’t get up.

laurent, facing certain death and defeat, used the chair he had been tied to and tortured in to murder and imprison his two captors respectively. kind of a shame he doesn’t end up killing the regent with a bed for similar poetic justice (not really, i think the regent’s death is perfect)

In the stillness that followed, Laurent found his way from the bars, to the open corridor, to the opposite wall, which he slid down, finding at the midway point that there was a wooden bench, which took his weight. He had expected the floor.

i love this image so much—wait is this. it is. ladies and gentlemen and others, this is LAURENT LEAN #12!!!!

He did laugh then, a breathless sound, with the sweet, cool feel of the stone at his back. His head lolled.

snarky action hero laurent i love you so very much. sorry about the torture tho

‘Guion,’ said Laurent, without opening his eyes. ‘You had me tied up and locked in a room with Govart. Do you think name-calling will hurt my feelings?’

see previous comment

‘Let me out!’ The words ricocheted off the walls. ‘I tried that,’ said Laurent, calmly. Guion said, ‘I’ll give you anything you want.’ ‘I tried that too,’ said Laurent. ‘I don’t like to think of myself as predictable. But apparently I cycle through all the usual responses. Shall I tell you what you’re going to do when I stick the knife in for the first time?’

it took me a second to understand what’s being said here. i got briefly stuck on “i tried that,” but looking back on previous dialogue and the rest of what laurent says here, i think it’s something like this:

guion: let me out laurent: yeah i asked for that too when faced with imprisonment and torture guion: i’ll give you what you want laurent: i also tried that. damn if you’re saying all the same stuff i did, maybe i’m more of a basic bitch than i thought. well hey if we’re the same i can tell you how you’ll react when i torture you, just how i reacted when govart tortured me (i am threatening you)

‘You know, I wanted a weapon,’ said Laurent. ‘I wasn’t expecting one to walk into my cell.’

okay now he’s just congratulating himself. earned

‘You’re a dead man when you walk out of here. Your Akielon allies aren’t going to help you. You left them to die like rats in a trap at Charcy. They’ll hunt you down,’ said Guion, ‘and kill you.’ ‘Yes, I’m aware that I have missed my rendezvous,’ said Laurent.

every line he says is a banger. this is the verbal equivalent of wearing sunglasses and walking away from an explosion

‘There was a man I was supposed to meet. He’s got all these ideas about honour and fair play, and he tries to keep me from doing the wrong thing. But he’s not here right now. Unfortunately for you.’

THIS LINE FUCKS

and i love that this is how he regards damen. i love that he calls him a man, and not a slave. i love that it's "he TRIES to keep me from doing the wrong thing," because laurent would never give damen the satisfaction of completely taking control (except during sex, but we'll talk about that later). overall, i love how the entire phrasing is just the tiniest bit admiring and endeared, even though laurent is simultaneously insulting damen's integrity (a quality that we know DAMN WELL laurent admires deeply).

and hey!! cool laurent fact #6: he is totally aware of how down bad damen is, and the way damen has willingly taken the role of his (laurent’s) evil impulse control. and laurent doesn’t seem to particularly hate that, or even resist it, at this point in the series. this makes early to mid book 3 even funnier, in which laurent antagonizes damen and his friends (mostly nik) cartoonishly while KNOWING that damen honors him and feels guilty for lying, so therefore tolerates and even defends laurent's petty bullshit at his own and also nik's expense. just because damen cares about fair play, doesn't mean that his ideas about fairness are like… rational. or sane. and laurent knows that damen's thoughts upon his return and dramatic reveal are probably going to be along the lines of "i lied to laurent and also i murdered his brother, so it's technically not wrong for him to lash out."

i'm looking forward to the future of their dynamic, without those giant lies and power imbalances between them. i don't even mind the "angst" of laurent being a petty bitch in the next few chapters, because we know he's being a stubborn idiot and it can only last so long before he breaks, and he doesn't have power over damen to actually abuse. while laurent previously held socially-reinforced authority over damen, they're about to find themselves on even footing. therefore it IS fair play for them to be freaks to each other, and i think a part of laurent is looking forward to that too. like he'll probably figure out his shit with damen, maybe, eventually. he knows damen will try his best to make laurent do the right thing, and laurent will most likely let him win. but he is also going to be a dramatic bitch about it first. as long as he survives.

needless to say, guion does not stand a chance.

‘Isn’t there? I wonder how my uncle is going to react when he finds out that you killed Govart and helped me to escape.’ And then, in the same dreamy voice, ‘Do you think he’ll hurt your family?’ Guion’s hands were fists, like he still had them wrapped around bars. ‘I didn’t help you escape.’ ‘Didn’t you? I don’t know how these rumours get started.’

>:)

Laurent regarded him through the bars. He was aware of the return of his critical faculties, in place of which up to now had been the tenacious adherence to a single idea. ‘Here’s what has become painfully clear. My uncle instructed that if you captured me, you were to let Govart have me, which was a tactical blunder, but my uncle had his hands tied, thanks to his private arrangement with Govart. Or maybe he just liked the idea. You agreed to do his bidding. ‘Torturing the heir to death wasn’t an act you wanted attached to your own name, however. I’m not certain why. I can only surmise, despite a truly staggering array of evidence to the contrary, that there is still some rationality left on the Council. I was put in an empty set of cells, and you came with the key yourself, because no one else knows I’m here.’ Pressing his left hand to his shoulder, he pushed away from the wall and came forward. Guion, inside the cell, was breathing shallowly. ‘No one knows I’m here. Which means no one knows you’re here. No one’s going to look, no one’s going to come, no one’s going to find you.’ His voice was steady as he held Guion’s gaze through the bars. ‘No one’s going to help your family when my uncle comes, all smiles.’ He could see Guion’s pinched expression, the tightness in his jaw and around his eyes. He waited. It came in a different voice, with a different expression, flatly. ‘What do you want?’ said Guion.

1) the complex inductive reasoning is back! laurent is going to be just fine

2) laurent just unpacked guion’s plan exactly how i’ve been attempting to unpack laurent’s bullshit in my annotations for the past 2+ books. except mine are much more bewildered, and oftten inaccurate. but that's all a part of the fun. i appreciate the small victories of occasionally getting it right ;)

#sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #kings rising #laurent of vere #lamen #this one is ridiculous i'm so sorry

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years

Text

Cold Nights (Matt Murdock)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Its a cold night, so you and Matt try to stay warm, in the best way possible

Based on this post, thanks op for letting me write it <3

Warnings: Explicit content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), p in v, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise kink, choking, bit of dom!matt, creampie, fluff at the end, established relationship, language, this is just pwp

WC: 2k

A/N: I'm a whore for Matthew Murdock, that's all. Its currently negative degrees where I live and I want nothing more than for this man to rail me then drink hot chocolate with me, so I wrote it. And that's that. Enjoy my beloved matt whores.

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated it!

It was cold, so fucking cold. Because of nights like this you sometimes hated New York. but you weren’t cold. Not anymore.

His body was so warm against yours. His bare chest was pressed flat against your back, his face buried in your neck as he rutted his hips against your ass, his cock buried to the hilt inside your walls. He had a bruising grip on your hip and he held you in place with each sharp thrust he gave you, your moans filling his ears like the perfect melody.

“You’re taking me so well sweetheart,” Matt said into your ear, his voice low and coated with arousal. You moaned in response, reaching back to grip his brown strands as your body shuddered, your orgasm rapidly approaching, “Are you going to come for me again sweetheart?”

Matt knew you were close, if there was something he had become an expert at was learning your body, learning your cues. The way you squirmed under his grip, your rapidly beating heart and your broken cries, he could feel all of it and it drove him goddamn insane.

“Fuuuck Matt,” You squeezed your eyes shut and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. A shuddering hot flash ran through your body as pleasure took over, leaving you nothing more than a shaking whimpering mess.

"God, I love it when you say my name like that," He sighed out, eyes closed as your slick walls squeezed his cock in the most delicious way possible as you came. But he wasn't quite done with you just yet.

His lips were hot on your neck as he rocked his hips slowly, the rhythm he had kept for the past time finally slowing. He gave you time to breathe, allowed you to come down from your blinding high. If there was something Matt had in excess it was patience. If he was going to fuck you senseless at least he was going to give you time to remember how to breath again. When he felt your breathing slow and your heartbeat begin to steady, he dragged his lips to your shoulder as he gripped your arm gently. You had your face buried in one of his pillows, your breathing loud and quick as you tried to steady it.

You weren't quite sure when exactly you ended up on your back, or when Matt climbed on top of you. But when you opened your eyes again you found him above you, propped up with one arm while he pumped himself with his other hand. The red and blue billboard lights illuminated the entire room and fuck, he looked absolutely gorgeous on top of you like that. You swallowed hard, gasping softly when you felt the head of his cock brush against your sensitive clit. A shot of electricity ran through you and your body twitched.

"Matthew." You warned, but your voice was shaking. But to him, it sounded more like a whine.

"Shhh," He shushed you, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick all over again, "You can take it, I know you can."

You didn't have time to protest or even whine, he was already pushing himself inside you with a soft groan. Your jaw fell open with a choked out cry and your toes immediately curled.

"F-fuck.. Matt please—" He cut you off with a sharp thrust, and he happily took in the squeal he forced out of you when he did, your sounds filling his sharp ears, "I c-can't, please."

"Yes you can sweetheart. Just give me one more, yeah?" He coaxed, lips brushing against your own, pulling you into a messy kiss that lasted a few seconds before you broke it off, a moan leaving your lips when he snapped his hips again. And he took that opportunity to speak again, "Can you do that for me?"

How could you ever say no?

You squeezed your eyes shut, a hand clenched around the sheets, but you nodded nonetheless, happily taking him.

"Good girl." A half smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned down, his crucifix dangling over your face, reminding you that for someone so catholic he could also be the filthiest guy you have ever dated.

Matt had you just how he wanted in a matter of a minute or two, both of your legs thrown over his shoulders, pretty much pinned under his body as you simply took everything he had to give you, and fuck did you love it. You were shaking, blunt nails scratching up and down his back and your cries mixed with his groans filled the apartment as he fucked you into the mattress. You didn't know what was making more noise, the headboard constantly hitting the wall or you with your cries. You often wondered if Matt's neighbors knew his name by how much you would scream it at night. But you knew just how much he loved the sounds you made, so neither of you really cared about noise complaints.

"Matty, please," Your broken moans filled his ears again, and oh there it was again, that shake, that little shake in your voice paired with your shaking thighs, he knew you were close again, "Fuck, fuck please I'm—"

You didn't finish your sentence, a squeal replaced your words when his cock brushed over your most sensitive spot. A smirk tugged at his lips and he snapped his hips at that same angle again, earning the same response from you.

"Yeah, like that?"

"Yes! God yes!" You threw your head back against the pillows as you felt the familiar burn in the pit of your stomach and your hands flew to his disheveled brown strands, earning a grunt from him when you pulled.

His head slightly twitched as you fell apart under him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit. He rubbed harsh circles as his other hand flew to your neck, and he fucking squeezed. It was all too much, too much to handle, and you were sent right over the edge. You cried out, tears falling down your cheeks as your orgasm hit you, hard.

"I know, baby. You did so good," He praised as you sobbed his name, your body jolting and twitching under him as he fucked you through your orgasm and the sound of slapping skin as you coated his cock with your juices filled his ears.

Matt kept his pace, his hips only faltering ever so slightly as his thrusts got more shallow and messier. He wasn't too far behind. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw slightly open as he gripped your throat, his index fingers pressed firmly against your pulse point as he listened to the fast beating of your heart and your uneven breaths. He focused on it, but what sent him over the edge was the quiet whimper of his name you gave him.

"Matthew." Your lips had found his ear, his name falling from your lips like a silent prayer, and not just any form of his name. But Matthew. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head and you held him as he fell apart soon enough.

"God, fuuuck," He squeezed your throat, feeling the way your breath shuddered ever so slightly under his fingers as he gave you, one, maybe two more thrusts before he spilled himself inside you, "Fuck sweetheart."

A lazy smile fell on your lips, still euphoric from your multiple orgasms, and a soft gasp left your throat when he released your throat. Your eyes were still closed when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips. A slower kiss this time and he was sighing into it before he pulled back. He dropped your legs from his shoulders and left one last kiss on your forehead before he slipped out of you. You hissed softly at the loss of him, suddenly feeling cold and empty. But oh well.

Matt lied on his back beside you, his own breathing slowly steadying along with yours. He was facing up at the ceiling one arm behind his head while the other reached out for you. You leaned over him, resting your hands on his chest to get his attention. He quickly fixed his unfocused gaze on you to let you know he was listening.

"I'm gonna go clean up. I'll be right back." You pressed a kiss to his lips and he nodded.

"Don't take too long."

You giggled softly and nodded, slowly slipping out of bed, careful not to fall over. You hissed softly, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities. You looked around the floor for your clothes for a long minute, not sure where exactly you had taken them off. The kitchen? The living room? The doorway? You had no clue. You did spot the shirt Matt had been wearing earlier that night. You shrugged and picked it up, throwing it over your shoulders and did the first few buttons.

After the bathroom, you walked into the kitchen for something to drink, and while there, you realized just how fucking cold it was outside, the large windows being completely crystalline by then. It even looked like it had snowed a bit. And then you remembered you bought some hot chocolate mix for this exact reason. A wide smile fell on your lips at the idea and in an instant you were going to the fridge for milk and to the cabinet for the pack.

You were gone for a little while, long enough for Matt to know you must've been doing something else. He was tempted to get up and find you himself, but a mixture of your earlier activities and some bruising from earlier that week during his Daredevil nights left him exhausted, so he opted to just wait, and stayed in bed to rest his eyes. He didn't have to wait too long though, because he heard you walk back into his bedroom, your light footsteps making the floorboards creak the slightest bit. But he still didn't turn around, he had rolled over onto his side, away from the sliding doors. You saw he had his back to you and you pouted softly, thinking he had fallen asleep. Not that you blamed him, you knew he was tired, but you had made him some hot chocolate.

You pouted softly as you placed both mugs on the nightstand and climbed into bed, sitting on your knees, "Matty?"

You ran a hand over his back, mindful of the now purple bruises covering his pale skin. You rubbed his back for a second or two before he gave you a hum, acknowledging your presence.

"I made—"

"Hot chocolate, I know," He had a smile on his lips as he rolled over on his back and sat up against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his waist. You frowned softly and opened your mouth to ask but he cut you off again, "I can taste it off your lips. And I could smell it while you were making it."

Oh, right.

"I always forget you do that," You laughed softly and shook your head. You scooted closer to him and leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His hand landed on your jaw, and he held your face as he captured your lips, savoring the leftover taste off them, "Now you can taste it better."

Matt hummed softly, a lazy smile written on his face as he held your face, while his other hand fell over your bare knee and his smile turned into a soft smirk.

"And you're wearing my shirt."

You pulled back a bit, another frown taking over your face and you stared at him with confusion, "How did you—"

"Sweetheart, I can smell my cologne all over you," He chuckled and leaned in, his hand moving up to play with the hem of his shirt as it pooled over your thighs, "And it's a bit big on you."

"Okay now you're just showing off." You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed, giving you a small shrug before nudging his head in the direction of the nightstand.

"Can I get my hot chocolate now?"

You smiled. You honestly couldn't think of a better way to spend a cold winter night.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you

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fallinforerling · 2 years

Text

LOVE ISN’T ETERNAL. chapter 4 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The weekend arrived without any nasty surprises, which was very much appreciated. Jobe was still a bit bitter towards Jude for all the lies he told the family, but you convinced him to not pick any fights with his brother. Jude didn't deserve it, but you still cared about his family dynamic staying the same regardless of how he managed the breakup and everything that came after it.

Now you were laying in bed, not having the energy to do much. It's not like you were allowing yourself to be consumed by the grief or sadness (which you still felt), but you were a bit apathetic. Luckily, Nikki and Mia were coming over to help you with that.

“I want this to end.” You whispered after a while, wanting to say something to fill up the silence in your apartment.

Because you truly wanted to get over him. Why bother grieving him? He has been partying and probably sleeping with girls every night since his arrival to London. And what were you doing? Missing him? Wishing he’d call? Having insomnia?

“Fucking prick.” At least insulting him was good therapy.

Before you could enter the space of mind where all you did was hate him and his existence, your phone started to ring. The only connection to the outside world this past week and a half was that little device.

Nikki was calling.

“Yeah?”

“Check my chat, girl. This is fucking insane. Go! We're almost there!” And then she hung up.

“What's up with Nikk and hanging up after saying things like that?” You laughed, expecting something funny or a photo of them. But no, it was a Twitter thread. When you clicked it, you almost had a heart attack.

“The fuck is this?!” You screamed.

The author of the thread simply wrote: “Jobe's new girlfriend???? I'm so jealous, who is sheeee???” followed with four photos per tweet. They were from the park meeting just a few days ago. There were photos of you hugging, when you were sitting together and when you started to leave the park.

At least it wasn't going viral, but there still were lots of people interacting with it. They were trying to guess who you were and for how long you two have been “dating”. A nightmare.

This had never happened in the ten months you dated Jude, mostly because privacy was important to him... And now you were mistaken for his little brother’s girlfriend? You felt like having a panic attack, but your front door opened and closed loudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Did you see it?” Mia said, entering your bedroom after a few seconds.

“How did you find it?”

“Oh, you know I love gossip. I was digging for some information and I came across it. Did you see the date? Someone posted it three days ago.” Nikki sat next to you, biting her lip.

“Yeah…” Your brain started to analyze how it happened… Who took the photos without you noticing? The park was almost empty the whole time. Unless… “Fuck… I know who took those photos.”

“Who?” Mia asked with apprehension. “Someone we know?”

“No, far from it” With a sigh, you sat. “We met at a park near here. I've always liked that place because most of the time is empty… But that day I spotted a group of girls near us; I didn’t even payed them attention, they were far enough to not eavesdrop.” You covered your eyes, feeling frustrated. “They were teenagers, so of course they took the opportunity when they recognized him.”

“Yikes, girl… Someone’s going to cancel you for dating a minor.” Nikki joked, winning a very small smile from Mia and you.

“That’s not funny, my god.They probably will if they ever find who I am and my age.” You sighed, absolutely sick with the path your life was taking. “Why can’t I have one day of peace, huh? Life sucks.”

“Of course it sucks, that’s the main thing about living,” Mia said, sitting in your bed. “Well, let’s pray for that threat to die soon enough. You know how people are, they’re probably hunting for the next big gossip of the week.”

“Yeah…” You grabbed your phone again, thinking about your next move. “I probably should send this to Jobe as well, I don’t want him to be taken by surprise if people begin asking about this.” A tiny smile peaked between your lips. “And let’s hope the girl he likes doesn’t find it either.”

“Do you know what else you need to start doing?” Nikki said while you send the link to Jobe, who started to laugh about the ridiculous assumption those girls made about you.

“What?” You asked without paying much attention, smiling a bit when Jobe started to call himself Mr. Steal Your Girl.

“Being a soulless, heartless, and cold girl for once. What about some clubbing, some fun… Some boys?”

“You’re like the devil on her shoulder, Nikk,” Mia said, nudging Nikki’s arm. “But I agree, you need some fun. We forbid you from staying at home, drowning in your sadness. That boy doesn’t deserve it.”

“Not one bit,” Nikki replied, hugging you. “I promise it will be super fun, just go out with us tonight.”

Instead of responding, you took a look at the ground. There it is. You knew them too well, there was no way for them to “casually” suggest a night out; they had a plan. Their bags were on the floor, but you noticed a small bag that Nikki only took out of her house if she was planning to party: her makeup bag, which was essential if she was going out clubbing.

“Are you trying to persuade me into partying tonight?” You smiled, not even mad at the idea.

“Maybe?” Both of them said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The three of you looked at each other with big smiles before laughing.

“We’re going out tonight!” Mia screamed, gaining more laughs from Nikki and you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The fun part about going out with Mia and Nikki was the part previous to the actual clubbing. There just was something magical about getting ready with them: the makeup with the collaboration of everybody, constantly changing outfits, Nikki persuading both of you to drink a little bit for good luck and Mia insisting that all of you needed smoky eyes, so guys felt intimidated. Most of it was nonsense, but they were your best friends in the whole world and you always felt extremely thankful for their support.

“Promise me you’re going to at least try dancing with the hottest guy that approaches you tonight.” Mia said while doing your smoky eyes (yeah, you gave in).

“I’ll try.” And you will because it wasn’t fair for you to stay in your comfort zone. If this whole thing didn’t cheer you up or make you feel better, then you could always find other ways to keep your mind occupied.

“That’s more than enough for me. Try to have fun, this is a girl’s night.”

“And talking about girls. Put this dress on, the girls look stunning in it.” Nikki dropped a black dress on your lap.

“No way!” You lifted it with a smile. “I completely forgot about this dress. I haven’t worn it since…” You paused, feeling uncomfortable. “Uh, Jude’s birthday.”

“Well, who cares about that? You still look amazing.” Nikki smiled, obviously not about to let you think much about Jude.

“Done!” Mia said after a few seconds, biting her lip. “This is my best work so far.” Her eyes were sparkling, so you believed her.

Facing yourself in the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize the face that was looking back at you. You looked amazing; the color of your eyes popped, the glitter was doing the right job of not making it look too dark and the red lipstick was the final touch. You loved it.

“That’s the face of a heartbreaker, girl.” Nikki admired your face for an instant before smiling. “Ah, I can’t wait for the boys to fight over you.”

“Very funny, Nikk.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The club Nikki choose was wild, especially since a manager was waiting for you at the door, guiding you to the balcony section of the club- which was the freaking VIP one.

“Nikk?” You half-screamed through the music, dying to know how she managed to pull this off. Mia seemed as confused as you were. “Anything you want to tell us?”

“About what?” She kept walking with the biggest of smiles.

“Uh… Us getting into the VIP section wiht no even five minutes of being here?”

“Oh, that?” Her smile grew bigger, if that was physically possible. “I know someone.”

Clearly, that was all the information you were getting. Mia gave you a look and the both of you silently decided that it was better if you didn’t dig into it.

“Tonight it’s about having fun, girls. My treat, don’t worry.” Nikki said once you were at the table, which already had a champagne bottle resting comfortably on an ice bucket. Three champagne glasses were next to it, patiently waiting for you.

“Oh, so this is luxury, luxury.” Mia whispered, laughing a bit.

“The fun it’s all that matters, trust me, Mia.” A waiter appeared out of nowhere, silently grabbing the bottle before smiling at all of you.

“Welcome, ladies. May I open it now?” You nodded, and with one quick movement of his wrist, he had the job done. Impressive. “Hope you have a good night. Don’t forget you can always call a waiter with the button that’s underneath the table.” And then he was gone.

“You were right, Mia. This is luxury luxury.” You accepted the glass Nikki offered you, excited for the night ahead.

“Let’s enjoy it without actually wondering how much all this is, babe.” Was all she said before chugging her glass in one sitting. “I’m ready, give me another one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!" Nikki cheered, happy to see Mia engaged with tonight’s mission.

“Come on, you need to chug that thing too, there’s more in here.” Nikki told you, already serving Mia’s second glass.

“Fuck it.” You said before doing as Nikki said, chugging your champagne as carefully as possible so you didn’t choke. “If I end up vomiting all over the floor at the end of the night, I want you to know, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine to me!” And then Nikki chugged her glass as well.

Yeah, this night was going to be hella interesting.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Needless to say that within two hours of clubbing you were pretty drunk. Not to the point of falling when trying to walk because the world was spinning or to the verge of unconsciousness, but a good point between being able to not care if something ridiculous escaped your mouth and dancing with strangers without giving it a second thought.

Nikki had found some friends along the night, and now three more people, which were the nicest ever, were sitting at your table, chatting and laughing along. You enjoyed the their company, but felt the need to give yourself space to drink a very much needed glass of water in peace.

So there you were, leaning against one of the multiple spaces in the balcony where little chairs were dispersed. It felt almost peaceful if you ignored the music blasting through the speakers or the many waiters going around the place, dealing with drunks and orders.

“No way! Is that you?” A voice startled you, taking your mind away from the blankness it was immersed in. “I knew I wasn’t mistaking that face!”

You turned, slightly pissed at the person that was basically yelling at you, until you realized it was Gio. Gio Reyna himself.

“Gio?!” You didn’t know why, but the excitement made you scream. Maybe it was because you were drunk, but seeing Gio was one of the highlights of the night. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m taking the few days off I have.” He hugged you tightly once you stood up, almost swiping you from the floor. “You look amazing! What are you doing here?”

“Thanks! I’m with my friends, they’re right there!” You pointed to the table, where all kept chatting without noticing your encounter. “It’s a girl’s night!”

“That’s cool! I thought you were with Jude, since he’s at London and all that.”

Your smile never wandered from your face, not caring about Jude’s name being dropped from Gio’s lips. You shook your head, letting him know you weren’t with him today. Or ever, for that matter.

“Nope, just my girls and I.” He kept looking at you like he was in front of a new person, not Jude’s “girlfriend”. You didn’t know if you liked it or felt bad about it. He was one of Jude’s good friends after all. “What about taking a picture? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

“Sure! Are you okay if I post it to IG?”

Oh?

“Of course, go for it.”

Then the two of you moved to a more illuminated area, he took his phone and you knew this was one of a kind type of opportunity. Time to be the pettiest bitch I know. Taking advantage of him getting closer to you for the sake of the photo, you passed one arm over his shoulders, and after a couple of pics, you decided to give him a tiny peck on the cheek.

“Let's see.” He said shyly. Aw.

A few of them were blurry, but most were decent and the peck one was fabulous, not only for the sake of your intentions, but also because of how good the two of you looked. Your makeup was still intact, and with the lighting, it shined in a very pretty way. Gio had a light blush due to the alcohol, his smile being evident, giving his already handsome face something else.

“That one?” You said, picking the one you liked the most.

“Yeah! We look amazing.” He started to set it but paused before publishing it. “Do you mind if I tag you?”

Bingo.

“Go ahead, I have no problem.” And that was it.

You said your goodbyes, and while returning to the table, you felt some type of triumph. Did this make you a bad person?

“Where were you? We thought you got lost or something.” Mia said when you finally arrived, sitting beside Nikki.

“So… I did a thing…”

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thehaemanthus · 1 month

Text

of two hearts one heart make we

It is the right of Rhysand, consort to the New Queen Amarantha, to take all Omegas in the land as his. Feyre, even at the altar, cannot escape this fate. Nor, it seems, can her sisters. Part 1 of 2. Feysand, with Rhysand/Nesta and Rhysand/Elain. Dubious consent, A/B/O, voyeurism, AU. Dead dove I don't wanna see none of y'all making noise about "eww, Rhys and Nesta"

yeah yeah yeah, the week is over, I'm agonizing over this and it's not done. But here's a part one for @acotar-omegaverse-week

I'm too scared to post this on AO3 that's how you know this is insane and the premise is weak. But, unfortunately, I wrote it and I think it's hot

Title from "The Heart that Loveth Me", which I'm not even sure is a real poem because the only place I can find it is a blog?

It was quite a leap to go from orphan girl on the fringe of society to Lady of the land, and if all went well today Feyre would be successful in taking that step.

Already, the days had seemed like a dream. From the moment the Lord spied her washing off in a stream— a faerie come to tempt him— to the quick proposal of marriage to her wedding day. But Lord Tamlin knew what he wanted, and who was she to question him? He got a wife, she received a belly full of food, a warm bed for her and her sisters, and a decent man. Feyre was uncommonly lucky.

Handmaidens brushed her hair and dabbed scented oil on her skin. Nesta and Elain watched, sitting at the other end of the room. The dark wood and gray stone showed its age, and the room smelled smoky from the centuries of fires made in its great hearth. The crackle of the fire and the scrape of the brush through Feyre’s hair were the only sounds in the room. Elsewhere, the chapel attached to the palace was filling with noble guests.

“What if he shows up?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth. Her eyes met Nesta’s in the looking glass.

“He won’t,” a matronly woman said. She was here to supervise the handmaidens. “This is a joyous day, child.”

Nesta wasn’t as convinced. “How many guards in this palace?”

“Many,” the matron nearly snaps Nesta’s nose off. “Four shall be assigned to the bride. Two each for you and your sister.”

If he did show up, that might not be enough. No one states the obvious.

It’s not long before she stands at the door to the room, wary of sitting should something be knocked askew. Feyre has never seen anyone wear this much cream and gold. How many bellies could be fed with the silver it took to pay for such a gown that glows in the sunlight? The wildflowers in her hair, in contrast, were plucked by her own sisters in the fields outside the wall.

Outside. Feyre is glad to be marrying Tamlin, for she will no longer have to go outside to hunt and scavenge. She will no longer be allowed to romp through the mud and bathe in streams. Really, she would be surprised if she were allowed to leave the confines of the palace.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Nesta!” It’s only the three sisters and a chambermaid in the room, but Elain still glances around like the groom himself will step out of the shadows.

Their oldest sister crosses her arms. “You don’t know for sure that he will continue to let you take the necessary precautions. You place too much trust in a man you don’t know well enough. Worse, you endanger our lives.”

Elain shakes her head. “Feyre is saving our lives—”

“If we stay in this household,” Nesta barrels forward. “Even if we are given a holding of our own, there will be servants. It is too hard to keep this quiet when you are never alone, Feyre!”

“Why should you keep it quiet?” She fiddles with the posy in her hands. “Do you not think my husband can protect all of us?”

Nesta sneers. “No, I do not, and neither do you!”

Feyre does not get a chance to respond. A knock followed by the door swinging open signals the end of their time together. A page boy nods shallowly. “Please follow me.”

There is no one to walk Feyre down the aisle. Once, she had a wealthy father and a mother that was so desired, her dowry included enough silver and jewels to make a queen envious. Feyre and her sisters were the prettiest pieces in their mother’s collection, until of course the wealth was squandered. Then, all they became were potential victims. But Feyre didn’t get her sisters this far to give up now. Marriage to Tamlin, who knows her nature, is safe. This is the station she had always been meant for.

It doesn't mean she had to like it.

The chapel is filled with incense and unfamiliar faces. Tapestries dangle on the stone walls, giving some life to the dim room. Outside is Feyre’s old life, all muddy streets and thatched roofs and backbreaking work and secrets. Here, here is her future as a wealthy, kept woman.

Feyre makes it to the end of the aisle, smiling shyly at Tamlin. She barely knows this lord, but he’s been kind and respectful. A life with him will be blessed. Her sisters followed her down the aisle, but now shift to the side. The priest smiles. His silly hat looks sillier because he acts so serious.

“Honored guests, thank you for joining us for this most auspicious union—”

The sound of boots on stone echoes through the chapel. Feyre turns, and her stomach sinks. The figure that emerges from the shadows is tall and broad, a dark spot in the light chapel with garlands of white flowers.

“I have an objection.” She’s never seen this man before in her life, but there’s only one person he could be. “That, right there, is an Omega female. The laws of this land state all Omegas are to be presented before me. Why wasn’t she?”

“Leave,” Tamlin snarls. “You cannot steal my bride—“

“I could steal her if she was wed, bed, and with child.” The man stalks down the aisle. “I am the lord of these lands.”

Tamlin releases of her hands and rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. “No, I am—“

“You are a vassal,” the man says, stopping in front of them. He is dressed in black. His boots are nearly spotless, impressive considering he would have had to ride to get here. The great black cloak over his tunic and leather jerkin adds to his already imposing size. “Your father lost these lands, and you sit here in your decaying splendor because I allow it.”

Feyre freezes as those violet eyes turn to her. The world is crashing down around her, but there is only silence beyond the roaring in her ears.

“Your name, lady,” he mocks her. It is not an Alpha order, not yet. But there is enough iron in his words to make her confidence quake.

Her mouth is dry, and her voice is soft when she says, “I don’t belong to you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles, but it’s not a kind one. “But every Omega in the lands I control has the potential to.” He circles her, and Feyre tries to follow him with her gaze. Then he reaches out, one arm wrapped around her waist as his hand grips her jaw. His chest pressed against her back, and he must be hunched over because she feels smothered.

Feyre shudders as he breathes her in. “She smells delicious Tamlin, here take a sniff— ah, I forgot. You can’t.”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Maybe it all has been a dream so far, because this surely cannot be real. She would not believe it was real, save for the iron grip, the hard body pressed against hers, and the unmistakable smell of an Alpha. Something in her begins to scream and sigh.

Her eyes snap open as he hauls her backward. “I might have been lenient if you informed me and notified me of your intentions to wed the Omega. Especially because she has sisters.”

From nowhere, other men dressed in black flood the chapel. Guests, previously frozen, panic and scramble like ants in a disturbed anthill.

Feyre’s knees nearly give out as two men zero in on her sisters. Nesta begins to fight, which reminds her that she should, too. Clearly, her captor didn’t expect it. She wretches one arm free, and in the commotion finds another hand.

The startling red hair and distinctive eyepatch identifies Tamlin’s seneschal, Lucien. He yanks, but it’s not enough. She feels like a toy between the two men, crying out in pain until she’s twisted, a hand in her hair forcing her to look at Tamlin. His face is pale, fury making his tense jaw twitch. The crown of flowers lies on the ground, trampled.

“Fight me if you want, Tamlin.” This monster doesn’t even sound winded. Feyre wilts. “You know the consequences.”

Somehow, Lucien keeps a grip on her wrist. It tightens. If they coordinate, they can work together to get her away—

“Go,” Tamlin’s lip curls. “I cannot stop you from being a monster. So be it.”

Lucien snarls. “Tamlin, you cannot—”

“Let her go, Lucien.” Feyre’s husband-to-be turns his back. “One woman, or a war we cannot win. Were I not a leader burdened with these decisions…”

The man behind her snorts quietly, but Feyre hears it. It shocks her from her surprise. “Tamlin?” Surely he cannot mean that. He was going to marry her. His flowery words— she can’t remember all of them, but did they not amount to some type of love?

“Expect to see one of my representatives soon,” the man behind her says. “You broke the law, Tamlin.”

Feyre does not see anything but the back of her beloved. Even as they leave the room, even as she is carried from the palace, his hunched shoulders are imprinted in her mind. The sight is stronger when they place a blindfold over her eyes.

Elain sniffles somewhere next to her. Nesta is quiet, and Feyre is glad. Her eldest sister has the right to say “I told you so”.

With a marriage to a local lord, Feyre was supposed to secure safety and security for her and her Omega sisters. But the opposite, it seems, has happened. For everyone knows that to be an Omega captured by Rhysand, consort of the New Queen Amarantha, is to be lost forever.

—

The day Feyre showed the first signs of presenting was the happiest of her life.

She was young, only nine, but a nursemaid caught a scent of something. A physician was quickly called, and the diagnosis was confirmed. Feyre Archeron was the third Omega daughter born to her Alpha parents, nearly unheard of.

Her mother brought Feyre and her sisters to her chambers. She sat, gazing at her daughters with what Feyre thought was pride. It was simple avarice. But when she was nine and had missed the affection of a mother for so long, any look sent her way was treasured.

“My girls,” her mother had cooed. “We shall find rich, powerful husbands for you. Only Alphas. You will be the wives of kings and princes, mark my words.”

For a woman who, due to common blood, failed to rise higher than a wealthy merchant, blue blood for her daughters would be the fulfillment of her own dream. Feyre followed the instructions of her mother and the example of her sisters. Dread wound its way around her like ivy, growing to constrict Feyre more with each passing year.

It fell apart rather quickly. Mother died. Father, lost in his grief, lost their money in the tumult of the New Queen’s conquest. Father died. They had no money, just a maid who left them with some final parting advice.

Being a penniless Omega is not a blessing in this world. A whorehouse, a vessel to be used by Alpha soldiers with an itch to scratch. Or a slave in some distant household. The possibilities run through Feyre’s mind as she stands, shivering with fear. They sat in the cart long enough for the chill of night to fall and for her ass to fall asleep.

She thought they might be inside a tent. It was marginally warmer, and there was no breeze. Steps near her make her flinch a moment before the blindfold rips away. She squints, seeing her sisters on either side of her.

“Lord Tamlin broke the laws of this land when he failed to report three Omegas living in his territory.” Through her lashes and the pieces of hair falling in her face, Feyre sees Rhysand. He is the consort of the New Queen, but no one has ever called him king or prince. He is simply Rhysand, the sword that the New Queen wields. Feyre does not know where he came from, only that he is known for his violence, his dominance as an Alpha, and for rounding up Omegas.

He studies them now, satisfaction poorly concealed on his face. Hate rises in Feyre’s belly. Hate is easier than fear.

“I am impressed you managed to hide for this long.” His gaze roves over all of them. Feyre fights the urge to squirm. Already, the large tent fills with his scent. Alpha. Protector. Powerful. Dangerous, her mind tries to say. Perfect, her nose tells her.

One moment she is lost in the haze, and in the next a sharp point of a knife digs into her throat. Feyre struggles for only a second before freezing.

Nesta’s bound hands grip the knife. Her arms wrap around Feyre from the back, but it’s the point of the knife against her skin that keeps Feyre still.

“You will not have us.” Her sister’s voice shakes with rage, and maybe fear.

Her sister. Nesta has a knife— hid it away somehow? Now she is poised to kill Feyre. Across the small space, Rhysand is on his feet, eyes narrowed.

“Nesta?” Elain whimpers.

“I won’t allow you to touch my sisters,” Nesta says, voice rough with fury. The knife digs a little deeper.

Feyre’s breathing picks up. Nesta will kill her. Nesta is going to hurt her—

Rhysand’s powerful voice does not increase in volume, but Feyre feels her mind drawn to him anyway. “Put the knife down.” Something has changed in his tone. It is an order.

Nesta falters a bit before recovering.

“What do you think will happen?” Rhysand prowls forward, honey in his voice. The blast of his Alpha’s power floods the small space. “You will try to kill your sister. I will strike as you do, removing the weapon from your hands. Then you are weaponless. As the youngest of you lies bleeding, I will call for my healers. Do you know how to kill, little warrior? Have you slaughtered the sheep for feasts or broken the neck of birds? Stand down, Omega.”

Nesta inhales sharply. Feyre can feel the tremor run through her. The tip of the knife scrapes Feyre’s neck. Her sister screeches, and then Nesta is gone.

The relief and shock brings Feyre to her knees. She inhales as if she’d been strangled. Behind her, Nesta shouts abuses. Feyre glances over her shoulder, where two large men restrain her oldest sister and wrestle the knife away.

“It was a noble attempt,” Rhysand says, turning his back and sitting down. “Now, let me tell you what is about to happen.”

Elain shuffles towards Feyre. The silence as her sister helps her to her feet feels like mockery. When they are all standing, and in Nesta’s case restrained, Rhysand speaks. “We ride for the nearest monastery, where you will be kept with other Omegas in my care. You will not complain, you will not try to run. Am I clear?”

What else is there to do but glare? Even Elain does not speak or nod.

Rhysand continues, unfazed. “You are my Omegas now. I will take certain steps to maintain your wellbeing, which means I need information. When were your last heats?”

A blush blooms on Feyre’s skin, so deep she must be radiating warmth. Elain makes a small noise, looking down at her feet. These are not things one talks about, certainly not with a male stranger. The silence stretches.

“Answer me.” The honey is back in Rhysand’s voice, laced with iron. “How long ago was your last heat? Is one approaching?”

Feyre wishes she had an answer for him. Embarrassment starts to be eclipsed by fear. The words wait on her tongue. If she opens her mouth and tells him, this Alpha will approve of her. She should want his approval.

“How did you conceal yourselves?” A new voice says, one of the men holding Nesta. His voice is smokey, and his eyes are narrowed. Their silence gives him room to speak. “Was it Widow’s Milkweed?”

Something gives them away. Maybe it’s the way Elain’s eyes turn especially doe-ish when she lies, maybe it’s the slight twitch from Feyre, maybe it’s the way Nesta puffs up at any criticism— but now they know.

The other man holding Nesta hisses. “Fuck.”

“Indeed.” The honey is gone from Rhysand’s voice. “When was your last dose?”

Again, they are silent. They do not have that luxury for long. Faster than Feyre can process, Rhysand hauls her close with one hand fisted in the neckline of her gown. Elain cries out, clawing at Feyre with bound hands.

Up close, his violet eyes are mesmerizing and terrifying. “Your sister was ready to kill you to spare you the fate of becoming an Omega plaything. Do not spit on that attempt. If you value yourself at all, tell me when you took the last dose of Widow’s Milkweed.”

The words spill from her mouth. “Four days ago.” Feyre’s voice does not shake, but it is soft. Four days ago, she was supposed to have taken the last sip of tea that would subdue her heats. Tamlin wasn’t an Alpha, but Betas could see Omegas through heats, too. That’s what he told her.

Rhysand releases her, stalking away. He is a dangerous predator, pacing in the enclosed space. “And you two?”

Elain and Nesta exchange looks, but it’s Elain who speaks. “Tamlin moved us into his household at the same time as Feyre. He didn’t want us taking Widow’s Milkweed. We had planned to take a dose right after the wedding—”

Rhysand slashes his hand through the air, silencing Elain.

“Rhys—”

“I know, Azriel.” The expression on his face chills Feyre like nothing else has. Rhysand is in charge here. He is the monster. An Alpha in control should never look this unsteady.

“Widow’s Milkweed is incredibly dangerous,” he says. “By tomorrow…maybe sooner, your scents will change and you’ll be shedding pheromones like leaves in autumn. All of my Alpha soldiers will converge on you like a pack of dogs. There is no telling when your heats will develop.”

“You said there was a monastery.” Monasteries were populated exclusively by Betas and the Omegas they sheltered. They were centers of healing, spirituality, and knowledge. Isolated and hard to reach, they were purposefully built to keep Alphas at bay.

But Rhysand dashes Feyre’s hopes. “The closest is a week’s ride.”

“Our holding is closer.” The larger man who holds Nesta suggests.

“Still too far,” Rhysand says. The silence in the tent gives Feyre nothing to do but think. Maybe he’ll decide the effort is not worth it and throw them to his men. A shiver goes through her.

Finally, he speaks. “You will allow me to scent mark all of you.”

The other men in the room seem shocked, but Rhysand speaks before they can. “You will remain maids, but I cannot claim your virtue will be intact. It will happen here, tonight. One least one of my men will be present to oversee the proceedings and ensure things don’t…get out of hand.”

“What—” Elain’s voice cracks. “What does scent marking mean?”

The men exchange a look. The one with a smokey voice, Azriel, shakes his head. “Save us from mothers and their misguided attempts to shelter their daughters.”

“Do you know what happens between an Alpha and Omega in the mating bed?” Rhysand asks.

Feyre blushes. She is familiar with how farmyard animals act, but not people. Her knowledge amounts to something like she would feel strange, desire her alpha’s touch, and that her alpha would guide her through these desires. At the end of a few days, she would come out of her heat. In three season’s time, if she was lucky, there would be a baby.

To her surprise, it’s Nesta who answers. “The alpha repeatedly gives the omega their seed, which results in a child.”

The embarrassed silence reigns before the larger man clears his throat. “Well, that’s not wrong.”

“The mixture of seed and slick produces its own powerful note in your usual scent, subtle but detectable,” Rhysand explains. “It’s not the same as the scent of a mated couple, but it does send a signal.”

The man leans forward. “You want to claim all three of them as yours?”

“Don’t,” Rhysand snaps. “They must all be mine, Cassian. If I hand the Omegas out like gifts, there will be fighting. We cannot afford discord.”

“It does add to his reputation,” Azriel says. “It’s not a bad idea, strategically.”

“We are not objects to be dealt with!” Nesta snaps. “You cannot claim all of us, the natural order of things will not allow it—”

“I make no claim,” Rhysand says.

“How?” Feyre finds her voice. “I still don't understand. We have…slick, and you have seed. How do you combine these?”

“He wants to lay with us,” Nesta spats.

Elain blanches. “You said we will be maids.”

Something about this must be amusing, because the men trade looks. That, of all things, finally makes Feyre snap. “No. We’ll…we can hide away somewhere.”

“On these plains, at this time of year, with these winds?” Rhysand jerks his head outside. “An Alpha will catch a scent within hours. This is not a debate.” His voice changes, and the words become commands. “You will bathe, change, and allow me to scent mark you. You will not fight and you will not argue.”

Inside, Feyre screeches. On the outside, she is silent. Her body relaxes, given directions by an Alpha.

Definite chance of survival at the expense of laying with a monster, or hiding and hoping they are not found and raped or captured by someone else?

If Rhysand had given them the choice, Feyre cannot say what she would have done.

A bell should toll or a fierce wind should blow through the plains, a supernatural signal that a fate has been sealed. But it is quiet and still, the crackling of the one brazier in the tent undisturbed.

Things move quickly after that. Rhysand’s men, Azriel and Cassian, hustle them to another larger tent. They do not speak, not to give orders or to taunt. Their tense faces and the looks they exchange do enough to silence the sisters. Feyre glances at the low bed covered in furs and the rugs on the floor, the flagon of wine and too many lit candles to waste all at once, before she dips behind a changing screen. They bathe with a pot of hot water and a cake of soap.

“Change into these,” a gruff voice says from the other side of the screen. A moment later, a bundle of cream fabric flips over the top of the changing screen. As soon as Feyre takes one of the shirts, she knows they belong to Rhysand. The heady scent of Alpha drips from them, along with a clean scent of soap.

For as long as Feyre has been a mature Omega, she has taken Widow’s Milkweed to suppress heats and keep her Omega scent dormant. That didn’t mean she was immune to Alphas. Their commands and their scent, their presence made her want to lay on her back or stick her nose into their necks to take in more. Sometimes the scent told her this was an Alpha that would wrap her in their arms, sometimes the scent told her to open her legs. Rhysand’s scent did everything, said everything that made her Omega soul sing.

Was this why everyone said Rhysand was the most powerful Alpha in the land? That couldn’t be— Amarantha, the New Queen, was the real power.

Feyre’s hands shook as she tugged the shirt on. It hung to her knees, and the neck was so large it nearly fell off of her shoulders. Beside her, Nesta and Elain did the same. Nesta’s movements were furious, while Elain’s were careful and purposeful. They were scared. They were all scared and showing it in different ways. But they could not disobey an order.

Nesta took her hand, the other gripping Elain, and dragged them out. “I will go first,” her sister declared. She pushed them to the low cushions and rug. “Sit.”

“Pushy, for an Omega,” Rhysand commented. Feyre jumped. How could she have forgotten he was there, playing with a glass of wine as he sat at the table with his men.

Nesta does not respond, merely walks to the bed and sits on the edge.

“Lay on your side,” Rhysand says. He begins to disrobe, and Feyre glances down to her hands. The sound of fabric shifting and dropping seems especially loud.

Nesta, stiff as a plank, lays on her side facing her sisters. Feyre is grateful she does not try to meet their gaze. She does not know if she would be able to keep it. Instead, Nesta stares somewhere above their heads.

Rhysand, clad only in a shirt, lays behind her. Nesta quivers, and Feyre has to look away again.

She cannot stop her ears from hearing, though.

“The more you relax, the quicker this will be,” Rhysand says. Then it is quiet, save for the crackle of fire, the sound of breathing, and the rasp of skin on fabric.

It might be a minute later than Nesta gasps. Feyre’s eyes widen, but she keeps them pinned down. Another moment, and a strange noise leaves her sister’s mouth. Feyre’s eyes look without her mind ordering them too.

One of Rhysand’s arms curls beneath Nesta’s neck so that his hand can caress her breast under the shirt. The other hand traces slow circles low on Nesta’s stomach. Her sister has color high in her cheeks, eyes so wide they seem a little shocked. Her lip is caught between her teeth, though small sounds still escape. She grips the bedding under her like it is her salvation.

Feyre watches the hand on her sister’s breast as the shirt slips. She’s seen her sisters nude— they are sisters and they have been poor more than they have been wealthy which amounts to little privacy. But not like this, as a man enjoys in her flesh. Rhysand’s fingers, dark against Nesta’s milk-white skin, pinch a pink nipple and Nesta jerks.

“Shh, Omega,” Rhysand’s honey voice is back. A yawning ache opens in Feyre. “Relax.”

The hand on her stomach dips lower, under the hem of the shirt and then back up. Nesta makes a shocked sound, squirming. The hand on her breast turns restraining, and then Rhysand groans.

A flood of heat washes through Feyre. She should look away again, but she cannot.

“Hush,” Rhysand murmurs again. “Lift your leg, put it over mine— there. Good.”

Feyre lists forward, yearning for his praise. Then she snaps out of it, taking a deep breath and looking away for a moment. She should not be feeling…any of this. But her eyes draw back to the scene in front of her anyway.

The shirt blocks the view of what’s happening, but Feyre can tell Rhysand’s hand is moving between Nesta’s legs. Her sister starts to breathe rapidly, little strange gasps and mewls escaping her lips. Her eyes are still open and shocked, staring at the wall of the tent like she cannot believe what is happening to her.

Feyre jumps when Nesta cries out, harsh and loud. Her body arches, toes curling.

“That’s it.” Strain coats Rhysand’s voice.

Nesta turns her face into the bedding, but she can’t muffle the little cries. Feyre shifts in her seat, eyes wide and breathing shallow. Is that what it is like to lie with a man?

She thinks it is done, but is not prepared for Rhysand’s movements. The hand under Nesta’s shirt extricates itself. He fumbles with something between them before gripping the thigh Nesta has thrown over his own leg. Then he starts to move.

The sound of something wet had been in the tent before, but now it is louder. Everything seems louder and harsher, from the pitiful cries of her sister to the grunting from Rhysand to the wet slap of skin. Feyre can see where Rhysand’s fingers dig into Nesta’s skin. Over Nesta’s shoulder, his eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed as if in pain.

Then those violet eyes snap open. They lock on Feyre, and she can’t look away. She can’t look away as the man ruts into her sister like an animal. Her freedom comes when he bows his head forward. He jerks violently a handful of times before stilling.

The quiet is awkward. Feyre’s breathing is too loud. She only becomes more uncomfortable when Rhysand dips his hand back between Nesta’s legs. It works there for a moment, drawing a hiss from Nesta, before roaming all over her body.

The slick and the seed. That must be what it is, and now he spreads the scent on Nesta’s glands. Feyre shudders and is finally able to look away. Her hands shake a bit in her lap, and there’s a yawning feeling in her gut. Why does she want to cry?

“Stay here for a while,” Rhysand’s voice breaks the silence. “It takes a moment to come down.”

The words are not meant for her, but the reassuring Alpha brings Feyre back to equilibrium. This is a strong Alpha, and she shouldn’t feel so distressed in his presence. Even if he is ignoring her—

“I am next,” Elain declares. The flash of anger and panic is enough to silence Feyre, though she doesn’t know what she would say if she could. Elain just squeezes Feyre’s hand and stands. She is numb as she watches her sisters switch places, as Nesta stumbles behind the changing screen with instructions to clean up a bit but not wipe away the evidence of what just happened. The scent needs to set in.

Elain asks to face away from her sisters. Rhysand obliges. He too disappears behind the changing screen before laying behind Elain. Again, Feyre tries to look away. Again, she is unable to. Though covered by a long shirt, she is mesmerized by the play of the muscles in his back. Rhysand treats Elain the same he did with Nesta, slow caresses graduating to his hand between her legs. Elain’s slender leg trembles where it’s thrown over Rhysand, the only visible part of her sister. The rest is concealed by Rhysand’s bulk. From this view, Feyre can see how his body flexes. She stares at the way Elain’s bare leg rubs against Rhysand’s and wonders what it would be like, how the hairs on his legs would tickle her and how it would feel to touch that much coiled power.

Then Elain crests with loud moans. Again, Rhysand grips her and starts moving. His shirt rides up, giving Feyre a few of his backside and something between his legs. His grunts are louder this time as he drives into Elain, as are Elain’s own whimpers. Soon, Rhysand slams his hips violently into Elain before stilling. Again, Feyre watches as he touches one of her sisters as she mewls.

No one says anything for a while. Where Nesta was eager to stand as soon as she could, Elain seems frozen in place.

“Azriel,” Rhysand says. His rough voice scrapes Feyre. “Help her up.”

There is no hesitation in Azriel’s movement as he assists Elain in standing and guides her to the changing screen, touching her no more than he has to.

On the bed, Rhys rolls onto his back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I might need a minute.”

That’s fine. Feyre isn’t sure she could stand if she wanted to, right now. After a minute of rustling fabric and the splash of water, Elain emerges. Head down, she scuttles to Feyre and Nesta and plants herself next to them. Elain settles, quickly squeezing Feyre’s shoulder before turning her face into Nesta’s shoulder.

Rhys rises from the bed and disappears behind the changing screen.

“We did it, you can too.” Nesta prods her into movement. Slowly, Feyre stands and walks to the edge of the bed. There are wet spots staining the bedding, and the mixture of smells makes her stomach churn. There’s the familiarity of her sisters. It’s their scent, but somehow different. Those scents are mixed with the heady scent of her Alpha—

No. Of Rhysand. He might be an Alpha, but she would not give him that much power over her.

“Are you ready?”

While she was staring at the bedding, Rhysand came to her side. She nearly jumps. Did he somehow get taller? She thought that, stripped of layers of clothing, he might seem a bit smaller and less intimidating. But he still looks like he could snap her in half.

Feyre swallows roughly. “I want to be facing you.” She cannot say why she needs to, only that she does. Her sisters faced away, as if anyone could have been laying behind them. Feyre wants to face Rhysand and know.

He studies her for a moment. “As you wish.” Then he whips the thick blanket off the top of the bed, tossing it carelessly on the floor. That’s all the invitation she’ll get.

When Feyre climbs into the bed, it smells only of cleanliness and a bit of Rhysand. When he crawls in next to her, the scent increases. A fire ignites in Feyre’s belly. She is surprised the entire bed is not shaking, because she has never felt so unsteady as she clumsily rolls onto her side.

“Hush,” Rhysand says. “Deep breath.”

There is no question of following his orders. Here is her Alpha, the one to lead her through these strange feelings and soothe her discomfort. His face is all she can see, his scent all she smells. His hand swallows her thigh as he brings it over his hip. Feyre breaths so rapidly she feels lightheaded.

The hand on her thigh trails up. Ferye shivers as he grazes the skin of her inner thigh. And then he touches her. Pleasure shoots through her, something in her core squeezes and aches. Her hand shoots out to clutch at Rhysand’s shoulder. She needs to rip the shirt away and feel skin.

Rhysand’s hand freezes. They stare at each other, both a little shocked. Feyre should not be touching him like this. But why not?

Rhysand hauls her closer, so close they breathe into each other’s mouths. The calluses of his hand rasp against her thigh as he drags his fingers back down her thigh, then up again, caressing her before trailing up, up, between her legs. Feyre shudders and gasps. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees Rhysand lean in, eyes locked on her mouth.

One thick finger traces the seam between her legs, sensitive and nearly ticklish. Her eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed by every sensation. But Rhysand’s penetrating violet gaze holds her. She is his prisoner.

Feyre should be more upset about that, but she is not. She is an Omega in an Alpha’s bed, and there is nothing more right.

Rhysand’s hand applies more pressure, dipping into her wet heat. Feyre digs her nails into his shoulder, bucking a bit.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, nose brushing hers. “Relax, Omega.”

Then his fingers move, and oh. Feyre would squirm out of his grasp if not for the grip he keeps on her. She does not feel embarrassed by the sounds his fingers make in her slick, nor the way she bucks, nor the audience. She is not aware of anything more than the pleasure her Alpha gives her, the way he smells, the sweet encouragement he offers her. His words fall from his mouth into hers.

“You were made for this.” His voice is strained. “Made for an Alpha—”

“Yes,” Feyre moans. How can she disagree?

The fingers circling the sensitive spot between her thighs pick up their speed. Unintelligible noises leave Feyre’s lips. She needs— she needs something more. The gland on her neck itches, and unthinkingly she contorts to present her neck.

She wants the bite there, but Rhysand growls and nips her jaw instead. Feyre cries in dismay, cut off by his lips covering hers.

If his scent was delicious, the taste of this man is even better. Pleasure bursts in Feyre, but her cry is muffled by Rhysand’s mouth. She squirms, overwhelmed and satisfied but still needing more. She is so empty. He pets her a bit more before his hand is gone, followed by his mouth.

“No,” she whines.

“Quiet,” Rhysand snaps. He’s looking down, fumbling with his shirt. Sweat gleams on his furrowed brow. Feyre only sees a glimpse of his manhood before he tugs her close. Something hot and thick slips between her legs, easily sliding in the slick that trails down Feyre’s thighs. A surprised gasp leaves her lips.

Rhysand bares his teeth, holding her close with one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other hand digging into her ass. Somehow, she ends up with her face pressed into his neck. Then he moves. Hot skin slides against hers. Rhysand’s thick manhood rubs the sensitive flesh between her legs. His hand was pleasurable, but this is sinful.

Feyre tightens her leg around Rhysand. She needs to be closer. She needs this Alpha to soothe the fire in her, pin her down, fill her with seed and children—

She wants to be his, and make sure the world knows she is kept by him. He does not have a mating gland like she does, but that does not stop her from biting the tendon on his neck.

Rhysand growls and the world spins. Feyre finds herself on her back, smothered by a man who might weigh as much as two of her. She can barely breath, and when she can all she smells is slick and seed, Rhysand and Feyre.

Heavy hips slam into hers as Rhysand continues to drive himself through Feyre. She hiccups between cries, face wet with overwhelmed tears. This is not enough. He surrounds her, but he needs to be in her and cure her of the loss Feyre never knew she carried inside.

Then he rears up. Feyre whimpers at the loss of connection, the sudden cold that intrudes in all the heat. Rhysand looks between her legs, using one hand to wrench her leg up and open. Feyre’s shirt has ridden up to under her breasts, displaying her to his gaze. She watches, mesmerized, as Rhysand takes himself in hand and pumps, gaze locked between Feyre’s legs. His manhood is dark, lined with veins until it bulges at the base, his knot.

He grunts, continuing to stroke himself as his manhood spits something white— his seed— onto Feyre. She jerks in surprise, only able to watch as the seed splatters the place in between her legs and her lower stomach.

Her breathing sounds too loud in her ears. She wants to reach out and pull Rhysand back down, let him smother her. This Alpha marked her, but did not claim her. It’s not right. She must have done something incorrectly—

“Good girl,” Rhysand rasps. The hand that was holding her leg open relaxes its grip, stroking. It soothes the anxious part of Feyre. “You did well, Omega.”

She nods, hissing as Rhysand dips his fingers back between her legs. She bucks as he rubs, mixing slick and seed. Those fingers should dip inside her, that seed belongs in her womb—

“Almost done,” he murmurs, reaching up to paint the mixture on her mating gland. “You’ve been a good girl, just stay still for a little longer.”

It is not an order, but Feyre melts into the bed anyway. She would do anything for his approval.

Too soon, he tugs her shirt back down over her thighs and stands from the bed. The world comes rushing back in.

“Rhysand,” Cassian says, an Alpha rumble under lacing his unhappy tone. Fear rockets through Feyre. It is dangerous to be surrounded by unhappy Alphas.

Rhysand raises a hand. “Later. Get them seen to first.”

“He’s right,” Azriel murmurs. As he did for Elain, he helps Feyre up from the bed. She allows him to, acting as she thinks she ought to but not as she wants to. She gets clean, follows Rhysand’s men to another tent with three simple bed rolls, nods at instructions not to bathe until the morning to let the scent set in.

The night is dark, but cannot shelter them from the crackle of fires outside nor the quiet conversations of men. Inside their small tent, the noise from outside is enough to provide a buffer as the sisters slip into bed, silent. Feyre cannot even meet their eyes.

She does not know what Elain or Nesta might be feeling. She hopes it isn’t a burning desire to jump back into Rhysand’s bed. She hopes they don’t feel like they are being torn apart inside from lust and shame.

#acotar #acotar omegaverse #acotar fanfiction

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kit-williams · 9 months

Text

Masterlist

Hi decided to actually make a masterlist because it's probably for the best.

Things to know: I will write from a mainly female pov/perspective and it will for the most part be monogamous hetro relationships (in the terms of genitals) I won't do fxf or mxm or trans because that's not how I grew up and I'm god awful at writing homosexual sex (genderbend I can do) Another no: Adultry/cheating/spouse(or partner) thievery

Asks are open

Come buy me a coffee

Number of asks waiting to be answered: 15

My Ao3 (I havent updated a story on there since like 2016 I'm scared to even let ya'll see it but I might post the AU on there)

So I mainly write Halo, Runescape, and Warhammer 40k but here I've only been posting my Warhammer 40k and D&D au

So expect a lot of polls because it helps focus my ADHD ass

Also Fanart is ALWAYS allowed! Just Tag me!

PLACE WHERE YOU CAN ASK TO BE PUT ON TAG LIST

Poll Storage Pheromone Spray poll part 1 First kiss part 2 Pheromone Spray part 2 Husbandry lewdness poll First Kiss part 3 How to tag the lewd poll probably going with carnal bond Should momrad include skin tone WIP poll Help momrad focus on what to write Ones ready to be typed

WIPs

Warhammer 40k

The D&D AU

The Yandere Black Templar and Flesh Tearer

The Yandere Space Marine Masterlist

Story Vault until I know where to put these stories/how to categorize them

The boys and their darlings

This is not Canon mini masterlist

Primarchs masterlist

Pheromone Spray 1 2

Bonus Zul Spray

Song Inspiration

First Kiss 1 2 3

Typhus fleas 1 2

Baseline hitting on the darlings

Varial the insatiable

Lamenters devouring

Raven in the belfry

Child in the Eyrie

First Words Can Damn You

Warhammer Fantasy

Dangerous Druchii pending

Warhammer 40k & COD

The COD Integration mini-masterlist

Demon Prince/Bloodthirster Graves

The 40k au

How does Horangi spend the thrones? Horangi focused

Lieblings König focused

Spirit Halloween Ghost focused

Hey Kiddo Price focused

Where do babies come from reply

Hail to the King Black Templar König

Everyone is space elves

COD

The mud pit cope fic

Hot Chocolate cope fic König focused

Missing the Bairn cope fic Soap focused

Zombie cope fic Ghost focused

He scares me Nikto focused happens before the Soap one

It's a wonderful life CODHoliday2023 fic angst-comfort Ghost

Age hcs/boys ages

Random romantic thing I wrote

Tanz mit mir Regency Au songfic

Halo

Most of it is on my Ao3

Random

The eventual bringing over that one non con I wrote pending

I have to edit it

The #I wrote something for my tumblr can help too

Sentience base off of lancer but I really just like the Balor

Baby fluff

barn anon/Tales from the Barn/Space Marine Husbandry Sentience

I will rename this when I can sit and think of better titles for them

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Plot Beats

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Mini Master List

51 more Space Marine Husbandry Sentience & Tales from the Barn

Hey Look another Space Marine Husbandry Mini Masterlist

Golden Apotheosis

Birthdays

avoiding bonds and eye contact

Favorite Wretch

Dischorus and Caracuss

Sentience Lore: Warp Fuckery

Weight of the Worlds

Insanity seems to follow...

Party

Anrir Husbandry

Reverse Husbandry AU

Reverse Husbandry Gabriel

Reverse Husbandry Headcanon

Reverse Husbandry Emperor

Sanguinius and Glitter

Gabriel and his sick human

Human Husbandry?

Primarchs in the reverse world

Gaius flees

Judgement from the Lord of Iron

Seeing things

Funny stuff/Fan art

Ovaries Stolen meme

Fan art by bispecsual

Blood Angel Gabriel meme

ZUL by moodymisty

Angron Post Surgery expression

Fan art by c-u-c-koo anon of Plague Witch

Apollo and Dodgeball

Plague Witch part 2 by c-u-c-koo anon

Apollo by greenarsonist

Aurora by greenarsonist

Fluffuary

Fluffuary master list

Fluffuary rules

MerMay

Story list

#masterlist

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bizarre-blues · 2 months

Note

Curious about your shoumob thoughts 👀👀

Apologies for the essay I am about to write you. Genuinely it's a self indulgent ship for me- I don't particularly see it ever happening in canon, but the potential for their dynamic is so severely underexplored that it drives me insane- not even romantically, just in general. I honestly get why at a glance it doesn't seem like there'd be much between them, but this is fanon and I'm allowed to pour my heart and thoughts into my favorite characters. Lemme break it up into two sections. Platonic Shoumob (something I could see as more canon based):

Even being platonic, I do think this dynamic would only show up post canon. Like there's a long period of time where they're vaguely in each other's circles but don't directly interact. On Mob's end, I think this is purely because he's got his own life and own concerns. Sure, his younger brother's friend hangs around sometimes, but it's not his business to meddle around in Ritsu's business. This is really well stated in August's post. But to add on a bit:

Mob is a good big brother + trusts Ritsu

I don't see Mob holding a grudge against Shou for the house being burnt down. Did Shou aim to stir Mob's emotions a bit? Yeah, it wasn't right. It was ALSO to protect Mob's family since Shou knew Claw was sending folks after them. With the bodies of the remaining Kageyama family burnt, Claw would not longer be after the Kageyamas. I think after fully understanding this, even if there are bitter feelings Mob would let em fade over time

What about the seventh claw division? Saying he's disappointed in Mob? Beating up Ritsu to lure Mob in so they can both be captured? First off Shou's insult pretty easily rolls off of Mob's back. Secondly, I think it would be very interesting to explore the dynamic of Mob discovering Shou's part in the seventh division. Again, I don't think this would really come up for a long time, long enough that Mob wouldn't really be a bitter mess about it.

If Mob can find in his heart of hearts that Toichiro is someone worth saving, I really struggle to think he dislikes Shou in anyway.

On the other hand you have Shou. I already talked about how I think Shou would feel a bit in the tags of August's post above. Also, I really like to keep this post in mind too when thinking of Shou's view of Mob.

Shou entirely wrote Mob off in their initial interaction. He saw he had power and was unwilling to use it- therefore was taking the side of a bystander. He saw that as genuinely a crime to waste such protentional. Shou was raised by Toichiro, and even without agreeing with how Toichiro used his power, Shou does agree that power is power and must be used in some way. For him, he needs to use it for justice. That's why, in my mind, Shou was so quick to like Ritsu. Ritsu wasn't afraid to use his powers for what was needed to be done to protect people, even if it was an uphill battle he couldn't win.

Cut to their second interaction. Shou's fighting his dad, Shou's losing the fight- it's barely even a fight with how bad he's losing. In waltzes Mob who's entirely different from the last time they interacted. He's prepared to fight, to protect everyone else since he's the only one capable of doing so. Hell, he even told everyone else to stay away since they'll only hinder what he has to do. Suddenly Mob is aligning with the moral code Shou WANTED to see in him to begin with.

That entire interaction is so short, but it's genuinely so important to me. Mob stands up for Shou, he gets angry on his behalf. Who knows the last time someone did that for Shou, and it's someone Shou had entirely written off.

Last time they interact is the confession arc. Shou sees the power Mob is capable of, how his dad is no match for him when he's like this without it being fatal. It even convinces Shou to lay off using his powers (though idk how closely he sticks to that post canon)

Basically you have this development of complete dismissal > admiration for his moral code? > a warning sign to how dangerous psychic powers can be. Which is insane given that Shou's SEEN how dangerous they can be his entire childhood

I feel like it leaves us in post canon with a LOT of potential for how they might see each other or interact. Here's some of the thoughts that have been plaguing my mind.

I really feel like Shou would have this torn admiration / uncertainty about Mob. Mob is powerful, more powerful than his dad, and I don't feel like Shou fully knows Mob's strict moral code yet. I think that subconsciously he might be a lil cautious around him to begin with even if he doesn't outwardly acknowledge that in anyway

They get to know each other and now there's potential to actually chat about some of this stuff. One thing in particular I like to think about is the power level they both have. Idk the exact power scaling of all the Mob Psycho espers, but I'm under the impression that Shou is pretty up there and will likely only get more powerful with age. Shou and Mob, having this kinda power, have taken such opposite views to it growing up. Mob believing it can never be used while Shou thinking it MUST be used. This is what's inspired the comic I'm currently working on that I'm SO excited to finish up

Also??? this might be ooc but the potential jealousy Shou might have of how easily Mob and Ritsu appear to get along once it's all said and done. Meanwhile his family dynamic is... complex. Shou obviously cares about his dad, but Toichiro will probably not see life outside of prison and I'm certain there's just some oddness between them. Between Toichiro calling Shou a failure and using his powers to straight up fight him, I just feel like it would be complex for Shou. It could really lead to some interesting conflict, especially given Shou and Ritsu being besties

IDK !!! OTHER STUFF TOO!!! Between em I just see a lot that could be said between the two of em.

I feel like when I first joined the fandom I didn't really see much between Shou and Mob. Of the four main esper boys, obvious it's easy to see how much dynamic there is between Mob and Ritsu (the entire show hinders on the trauma they share) and between Teru and Mob. There's also plenty of interactions between Teru and Ritsu. Same to say with Shou and Ritsu since the majority of Shou's interactions are Ritsu centered. But honestly post canon I really do feel like Shou and Mob's dynamic ought to be explored a lot more, even if I must do it myself.

Romantic Shoumob (way more fanon based but hey what can ya do, we have fun out here):

As a disclaimer, I honestly prefer platonic shoumob. HOWEVER I absolutely think romantic shoumob is adorable so I will happily ramble about it. Take most of what I've said above and apply it down here.

In my mind I think it would be Shou who ends up with a crush on Mob. Mostly cause of the amount of emotions Shou has towards Mob post canon, I feel like it could easily develop into a real curiosity towards Mob. Thinks about him a lot and oops, now it's a crush

Also hilarious to me cause I don't think Shou would know how to handle a crush no matter who it was. The classic "writes you a letter that says 'get out of my school' in attempt to flirt" dynamic

Except I really don't think that would work on Mob?? Mob isn't dumb but I really just. Don't think he'd get the hint that Shou likes him. Just knows for Some Reason Shou acts a certain way around him. He'd probably assume he did something to offend or upset Shou somehow tbh

Cue Mob attempting to do things to make it up / even directly trying to ask Shou about it which would only lead to Shou getting flustered or trying, yet again, to keep playing it off

Whenever Mob DOES realize Shou likes him back I imagine he'd get equally as flustered in the beginning. Mostly cause we know Mob is such a lover who is super easily flustered in most scenarios. Very much just! Cute to me

Outside of just the puppy love phase I really do think there's potential for such sweet or dramatic interactions. Again there's all the complex parts of the platonic parts of their relationship, but something significant would be the way that both Mob and Toichiro have this insane amount of power and yet opposite approaches to it.

I think Shou would find a lot of comfort in seeing how gentle Mob could be. I'm also a HUGE softy for the idea of like- we KNOW Shou isn't super soft. He wasn't raised that way, it's not his ideals, there's not many situations where I think he'd feel comfortable having his guard down, even post canon. But I like the idea that Shou lets himself be soft when it's just him and Mob.

No pressure to be anything he isn't, no need to be snarky or guarded, he KNOWS Mob ain't gonna judge him, hell Shou is probably the safest he ever could be by hanging out with Mob. It's all so SICKENINGLY sweet to me.

On Mob's end, I can see him enjoying having someone who understands him in some ways yet has such a different approach to life? Mob craves human connection throughout the entire series, and by the end he has plenty of it, but to have someone who he can have deeper convos about psychic powers in particular with I think would be a huge relief. Obviously there's other folks in his life, but Shou's just from a unique background.

Even more, Shou is blunt and upfront about everything. Communication would come so naturally to them. As someone with autism, nothing is a bigger relief to me than a person who just says what they're thinking straight up.

I can really see a fun balance between them as one person who's calm and kind vs someone who's energetic and chaotic. I feel like there'd be a constant push and pull between Mob's side of simple and sickeningly sweetness and Shou's side of outrageous acts and mayhem.

Hope this all makes sense. Sorry for any typos, I didn't proof read anything. Thank you sm for the ask!

#shoumob #mobshou #shomob #idk what the official tag is #suzuki shou #shigeo kageyama #sorry for how long this is #thanks to anyone who read this!

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year

Text

Daddy Frost Giant-Loki

(This is a Dd/Lg story that I wrote Years ago! I figured I would post it since someone asked for Loki)

To say I was tired would be an understatement, I was exhausted in every way physically possible, I never imagined being an Avenger would be so draining. Ever since Ultron we don't have as many high priority cases but the ones we have are insane. I had just had the pleasure of meeting Spider-Man for the first time when I helped him stop someone from stealing one of Tony's planes, I was the only one who ever answered the phone to him so I was the only one to help him, much to my boyfriends annoyance.

"Are you okay? You were gone for a very long time Princess." Loki swept me up into his arms and held me almost painfully tight, though I've gotten used to it.

"I'm fine, I promise. Just a few bumps and bruises...and a possible concussion in a plane crash." I cringed back, waiting for him to explode and he looked ready to but stopped, taking a deep breath as we had practiced. Loki isn't allowed on any jobs yet as none of the Avengers trust him and we had mutually decided not to try and force them, they'll get there eventually but until then...house arrest.

"Come let me look you over." He set me on the kitchen counter and did a once over of me with his magic, crinkling his nose up. "You have a concussion and 2 bruised ribs, you really need to be more careful Princess, I don't know what I would do without you." Loki loved me, more than he really did anyone but his mother (and secretly Thor) so he was overly protective sometimes.

"Don't you think you're worrying a little too much?" I giggled and he shook his head, sighing.

"Of course not, I love you, I never want my little princess to be in pain." He tucked my hair behind my ears and kissed me gently.

"I know Daddy, I love you too." I could have sworn I heard someone gasp but ignored it when I saw no one and kissed him again.

"Come darling, lets get you in bed, you need your rest." I nodded, allowing him to do as he pleased, knowing I would not win an argument when I was injured. He lifted me from the counter and carried me upstairs quickly, changing me into my footie pajamas and getting me comfortable in bed after a hot shower.

"Snuggle me Daddy!" I insisted and he grinned, we usually stayed in his room, him loving it really cold which is why I have so many blankets in there, but in my room he usually just slept in his underwear, which I can't say I didn't enjoy.

"Always Princess, you know that. Sleep little one, only then will your body heal itself, I shall use as much of my magic as I can to help." He kissed my head before I burried my face into his chest making him chuckle. "Goodnight Princess, Daddy loves you."

"I love you too-" yawn. "-Daddy." I drifted off contently that night in his arms feeling safer than I've ever been.

~~~~

I sat with Daddy on the couch watching the TV the next day and I couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at me, namely Tony. "What's wrong Tony?" I asked, never looking away from the movie, though Daddy did, glaring at him.

"What? Nothing, nothing at all...princess." I cringed at the nickname but didn't really pay him any mind until I heard whispering.

"Tony, if you don't stop looking at Y/n I'm going to start thinking you have a crush on her." Steve joked, he never could whisper well, but Tony could, meaning I didn't hear what he said, but it must have been something to make the Captain spit his coffee across the table. "WHAT?!" Tony just nodded but Loki glared harder, noticing I had jumped, not enjoying loud noises all that much. Steve waved awkwardly as Bruce sat down with them with the paper and not a moment later tore it down the middle.

"Okay, what is going on with you guys?!" I exclaimed but they all shook their heads and shrugged.

"Nothing Y/n...anything new with you?" Steve asked and Bruce smacked his arm.

"Leave her alone." He demanded, standing up and leaving the room, confusing me yet again.

"Come along y/n, its clear the idiots are having some kind of meeting." Loki teased, pulling me out and onto the patio where we watched over the edge at the cars for a little while, just talking. "Be careful at the edge Princess, don't fall." His arm was around my waist and I knew me being up this high made him nervous. When he had attacked New York he pushed me off of the building himself and since we had gotten together it had been a problem for him.

"I'm fine Daddy, I promise." He noticed me shiver a few minutes later and knew his body heat (or lack there of) wasn't helping me.

"Let's get you warmed up, I'll make you your favorite hot chocolate." I grinned, beginning to bounce my way inside only to see everyone now crowded around the table. Tony and Steve were still there, Bruce had come back, Hawkeye and Natasha were there as well as Vision, Wanda, and Pietro, Thor was just walking in the front door. They all stared at us and I stepped sideways away from them and towards the kitchen, the glared that is permanent on Loki's face to everyone but me was staring holes into all of them. We were halfway through making the hot chocolate when the kitchen door opened and Loki was lifted into the air.

"Thor No!" Tony shouted but my Daddy was already being crushed.

"Congratulations brother! I am saddened that I am the last to hear of your courtship with Lady Y/n however I am very happy for you!" I was lifted next and felt my back crack as he hugged me.

"Too tight big guy!" I shouted and he eased up, daddy pulling me back into his arms.

"Be careful with her brother, she is sensitive!" I heard Tony snort and everyone looks over at him.

"I've watched the girl get shot, point blank, and not flinch, she is anything but sensitive." The others chuckled as well and I was trying to hide my tears as I tried snapping myself out of my little space that I was so comfortably in.

"Have care how you speak metal man, make her shed another tear and those words will be your last." He growled, pulling me close and kissing my head.

"Can anyone else explain this weirdness?!" Steve shouted and Wanda raised her hand.

"I believe Y/n is a little. Littlespace is a mindset in which an adult regresses into a carefree, responsibility free state of mind. An adult in littlespace often involves a caregiver, someone to engage in activities some may view as childish, some even participate in sexual interactions while in littlespace. I'm going to guess the caregiver in this situation is Loki as you heard her call him Daddy, a very common name for a Dom in this kind of relationship." Everyone was staring at her like she had grown a second head but she shifted behind Vision slightly and I smiled at the action.

"So you like it when she acts like a kid?" Tony asked and Loki scoffed.

"I enjoy caring for her in the most basic of ways, any way she needs."

"So you two are in an actual relationship? This isn't just a kink thing is it?" Natasha asked and I shook my head.

"What is a kink thing?" Loki whispered, Asgard had a lot of different terms for things than we do.

"I'll tell you later, it's not bad. Yes, we are in a relationship, will someone please hand me my coco now?" Daddy smiled and mixed it for me, dropping in 8 tiny marshmallows just how I like it and I swung my legs happily.

"Careful Princess, it's hot." I nodded and once again everyone was looking at us like we were aliens...well me I suppose since my boyfriend technically is.

"And you're okay with this?" Hawkeye asked Thor who was grinning widely.

"Clearly it is more common on Asgard, I am happy to see my brother with someone to take care of. Congratulations, we shall now, as Jane says, double date." I giggled as daddy groaned.

"Very well brother, can we please retire now, I believe my Princess is tired." It wasn't really a question, more of an announcement as he lifted me, careful of my hot chocolate and his iced coffee (he hates hot drinks), and began walking to the stairs.

"Wait, I have more questions...a lot more." Tony shouted and I chuckled.

"Google it Tony, goodnight."

"Your friends are exhausting." He told me, helping me into my pajamas and wrapping me in blankets as we were in his room for the night.

"They're your friends too now Daddy, you know Pietro and Vision are growing on you, you even like Bruce. Others may take longer...Clint for example and for obvious reasons, but don't deny it." He rolled his eyes and admitted defeat as he crawled in next to me, holding me as I sipped my drink, eventually taking it away when I drifted off on his chest, the happiest possible place for me to be.

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 7 months

Note

you guys are so pathetic talking about Olivia “she’s painting Alicent as a conflicted character instead the bad stepmother, she’s projecting!” fucking losers and pathetic, hotd fans stop being the most insane fandom challenge 🤡 team black stans only talk about alicent this, alicent that, invent lies in twitter just to talk shit about Olivia, give it a break, she’s not responsible of the writing of the show and you guys make it seems like she personally wrote alicent like that, most of you forgot how the asoiaf behaved towards Sophie (mind you when she was just a kid) and Lena for playing Cersei. Actors are entitled to defend themselves when crazy stans attack them and look for personal excuses to “hate” and dislike them that goes beyond of “I don’t like your character” just awful but what can we expect with targ stans tbh you all got so fucking cry babies after the end of GoT

I don't think you realize that you're actually agreeing with one of my points about Olivia Cooke. I've literally already talked about how toxic fandoms go after the actors and actresses of disliked characters wrongfully twice. It's a symptom of how people struggle with separating reality from media.

Accusing me of ignoring that when I literally talked about it in my original post is ridiculous. It shows how you're not actually fucking reading what I'm saying, like all Alicent/TG stans who interact with me. What I said in my post is how I disagree with Olivia's interpretation of her character and how it seems like her fear of the earlier issue is impacting how she wants to portray Alicent.

I know she didn't write Alicent and that she didn't have any influence on that. Do you know why I know she has no control over that? Because she outright contradicts the writing choices Condal and Hess made and talk about. The most obvious one is how she said she "refused to play Alicent as a woman for Trump" when that's how she was written and Condal literally said that's how she is. I'm criticizing how she clearly doesn't like how her character is written but still tries to constantly defend her by refusing to acknowledge the parts she doesn't like.

You literally just word vomited into my inbox, you don't make an actual argument. You don't want me to criticize your fav or the actress who plays her, but you're not trying to defend the points I make. It's ridiculous and pathetic.

Also I've literally never seen people complaining about Alicent being "conflicted". Our issue is actually how Alicent was written by Condal and Hess to be inconsistent, hypocritical, and a constant victim despite being one of the most powerful people in the show. If you look on my page, literally all of my complaints about the writing are focused on the actual writers. You're arguing with your imagination, which probably explains why you're not making any actual points other than "how dare you criticize her 😡".

You know, you're coming across as the "crybaby" in this scenario, since you're just crying in my inbox and ignoring what I'm saying. You complaining about Dany and Targaryen stans being upset with GOT is very ironic, since Alicent stans are the one of the most sensitive group in this fandom (case in point).

Olivia Cooke is a person, she's fallible and it's totally fair and allowable to criticize her. You're right, she shouldn't be hated and harassed, but that doesn't mean she's perfect and above messing up. You just hate anything connected to Alicent being criticized and it very much shows. Stop projecting your obsession onto TB stans, it's annoying and just plain wrong, you'd know this if you actually looked at what people actually say instead of living in your delusional world.

#anti alicent stans #anti team green stans #anti team green #anti alicent hightower #house of the dragon #team black

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starlightswordfight · 3 months

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"jeremy if this is another hc post I'm going to kill you" bad news

castaway nonsense PART TWO

– schnauz is deathly afraid of water. it unsettles him deeply, largely because of past experience. do you SEE his treasure catalogue entry for the blue paint?? who "swims out" for the "last time" in a swimming pool???? someone fucking DIED

– on a slightly similar note, he laughs when he's nervous!

– he is Perpetually Nervous

– I think molly would REALLY like the evil skeleton wizard memes that have taken over my brain for the past several years. "not me being evil shadow skull" and no one knows what the fuck she's talking about

– molly writes fanfiction

– will let people borrow her camera if you ask nicely

– speaking of molly. her and patch and dash should be best friends forever. same home planet and they all do stupid shit. jin is also involved and they're the voice of reason

– dash has a lot of fidget toys. on him at all times

– wears those jackets where it's just an anime character wrapped around them all the way all bizarre like. he doesn't think it's a good design by any means it's just really funny

– frisé's favorite instrument is the didgeridoo

– also she's intersex. I can do whatever I want

– hitting frisé with the singing/humming/tapping on stuff as stims beam

– construction work is super fucking loud so I think corgwin just would not be bothered by sudden/incredible noise anymore. it just reads as background stuff to him! that or he like genuinely isn't picking up on some of it at all, it doesn't register. frequent tinnitus haver. he might be going deaf

– corgwin is tumblr famous. the pikmin universe tumblr equivalent anyway. inspired by the headcanon generator that told us in the pikmin server I'm in that charlie lit a school on fire and got away with it and that the rescue corps killed princess diana

– think about it. he'd share fun building facts. niche internet micro celebrity and everybody loves him

– lapi is also tumblr famous

– he likes frolicking around outside For Enrichment but he also does it in the rain and sometimes comes home sick

– guilty of making sketchbooks into renderbooks and taking several years to complete them. "but it has to be perfect" That Is The Devil Talking

– horatio is not immune to the fog

– he has a VERY specific skillset. like. like stupid specific. the guy is the most proficient xylophonist you've ever met but he can't cook. knows how aeronautics works but his phone call game is BAD. give him an old movie from decades back and he can tell you what it is and who acted in it and exactly where he was when he first saw it, easily. if you ask him for directions anywhere he'll crumble and die

– he wrote his ID badge like that. it was fully and completely on purpose. horatio thinks it's funny as hell

– françois really likes bugs! sees them all the time in his work even if his studies are flora centric. while on pnf-404 he probably talks about it a LOT with dalmo. botany/environmental science major who minored in entomology

– I just do not think he'd be afraid of them and that is beautiful. he allows nothing to dissuade him. he has pet spiders it is wonderful

– OKAY YOU KNOW THOSE THINGS YOU CAN GET AT THE KENNEDY SPACE CENTER AND IN OTHER PLACES WHERE IT'S LIKE ROCK SAMPLES FROM FOREIGN SPACE BODIES?? AM I INSANE??? in the little capsules and shit ????? yeah kit has those

– astrophysics lover. adores space science. worked at a planetarium before meeting osa. I don't remember if this contradicts the established lore and I am too tired to go back and check so if im wrong you can pelt me with stones and tomato

– osa lets him ramble on about it but in all honesty he does not know what the fuck kit is talking about half the time ever. ever

– vice versa! osa also has a huge nerd thing and it's world history. which makes sense for an archaeologist. I don't mean modern history either I mean ANCIENT

– fawks would unironically endorse the idea of a cybertruck but it never comes to fruition because everyone says it's stupid and he feels insulted and he gives up and sulks about it

– but he'd specialize. I know he would. he gets specific with it. good for him! my money is on prehistoric archaeology, stuff back before written text, and language, and any history that could be recorded with the power of words. which is why travelling to pnf-404 was so fucking important to him, he's been trying to construct something that would fill in the gaps of that lost starfolk history and this WAS the exact sort of thing that he was looking for

– technically they're doing geoarchaeology together. yes that's a subfield

– he is a tech bro and everybody thinks this is stupid and dumb also

– chewy

#pikmin #pikmin 4 #pikmin headcanons #i am once again absolutely not tagging everyone dear christ

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dragon-queen21 · 3 days

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Regressor Moon + cg's jade winglet minific

@babyminty

I wrote this such a long time ago but never had the courage to post it till now. I have another little bit written but it's not as completed as this one with Winter and Qibli. Maybe I should finish these and post them on ao3. I'll think about it, in the meantime... enjoy :D

~~~

“Aww how old are you hatchling?”

Moon shrugs. She had honestly thought she was doing a half alright job at hiding her regression. Either she was sorely mistaken (which was slightly worrisome) or her friend was just super observant.

“Two? Maybe one? Or maybe younger?” The rainwing seemed to just be rambling off numbers at this point. Moon tucked herself closer to the smaller dragon, as if trying to shrink away from the other two dragons who had now entered the cave.

“Scorpions tails! Moon did something happen to you?! Did she go insane? Is this something that happens when you can read dragons minds?!” Qibli asked frantically, reaching out one paw like he was going to touch her but pulling away at the last second. "Wait did she get cursed?!"

Kinkajou look mildly annoyed for some reason, red curling around her snout and eyes. “She’s not going insane, and this isn't some type of animus magic. She's regressed.” The small rainwing was met by two blank stares.

"You're telling me that neither of you know what that is?"

"I could take a guess, but it'd probably be wrong." Qibli adds, unhelpfully. "But she doesn't look physically younger so..."

"It's a type of coping mechanism. You know, to deal with trauma and stress?"

"Like all those stupid activities the dragonets of prophecy keep trying to get us to do?" Winter says, thinking back to the different art and music caves scattered across the school that often are being used by dragons dealing with painful memories from the war. Trying to get them to deal with their feelings in a healthy way, that didn't involve fighting.

"Exactly! I'm trying to figure out how old Moon is."

Winter couldn’t imagine showing this kind of weakness being allowed back at the ice palace, and by the look on Qibli’s face neither could he imagine it. It made sense that a rainwing of all dragons would know about such things. Though Qibli did have the decency to walk up to Moon, crouching down besides her. “Hi there.”

She gave a small, but friendly chirup, reaching out a paw to grab at his snout.

“Moon careful.” Kinkajou warned, taking her friends talons away from the sandwings face.

He bumps snouts with Moon when she starts looking to upset. "She's alright, can't do much more harm than what's already been done to me."

Winter clear his throat. “So what do we do with her?” Wondering why they couldn’t just leave her and come back when she was normal.

“Usually someone looks after a regressed dragon till they go back to normal. Anyone watching over you Moon?”

The nightwing nodded, looked as though she was going to say something before thinking better of it, then frowned, then shook her head. Winter did not have the time nor patience to try and figure out whatever that meant.

"Okay, well obviously that means that we've got to look after her right?" Qibli asked, looking over at Kinkajou, who nodded.

"If that's what Moon wants."

"Really?"

"Of course hatchling!" Kinkajou chirped, scales shifting to show dapples of sunny yellow across her body.

“Hey it’s like having a little sister again! One who won’t try and kill me!” Qibli said, already sounding much too fond about looking after Moon than Winter was.

#mayliz rambles #wings of fire agere #wof agere #fandom agere #agere fic #mini fic #agere writing #age regression #sfw agere #agere headcanons

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makeshiftproject · 1 year

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Blue and You

summary; you ask megumi a silly question and he takes it 'seriously'

wc; 686

“If the entire world turned blue, do you think you would be able to pick me out of the crowd?”

Megumi paused his writing to look at you, and despite your thoughts, he seemed to take your question into consideration. He always did that and you wondered how he managed to keep it up, consider your questions so genuinely when you only ever spewed insanity.

“What do you mean if the world turned blue?” He had abandoned his schoolwork to face you completely, an action that would likely receive him a lecture from his father though he didn’t seem to care much.

“Say you were like sitting in class and all of a sudden the world turned the exact same shade of blue” The answer didn’t make much sense, you hadn’t thought this out much. You suspected Megumi already knew that as you watched his eyes squint slightly in thought.

“So it would be like everything was covered in a blanket of blue?” You watched him drum his fingers along the surface of his desk as you nodded, getting slightly distracted by the quiet melody he was making with the taps of his fingers “So would everything lose all defining features?”

“Well..” You fell silent as you tried to think of the answer that would make it most difficult for him to answer “Not exactly! It would be like if everything started to wear those weird green screen suits that actors wear” You turned your head to meet his piercing gaze, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief

“How would that even make sense?”

“Well it would be like everyone was wearing a fitted blanket of blue” You watched how his eyebrows pinched together as he squinted at you, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was in confusion or annoyance “Don’t be so judgemental Megumi!”

You watched his features relax for a split second before his lips started to slightly form a smile, like he was trying not to laugh “If you can give me an explanation as to how that works, I’ll consider answering your question”

You look at him in disbelief, not entirely believing that someone so intelligent would be unable to grasp such a simple concept “C’mon! It would be like everyone lost all their colour and just became… blue!” He raised an eyebrow in your direction as he picked his pencil back up “If you for example turned blue, then I wouldn’t be able to distinctly make out your eyes, but I would be easily able to make out your nose and lips and your hair would be all slicked down”

The corners of his lips lifted slightly as if he was about to tell you a joke “So it would be like everything was wearing a VFX suit” Your jaw dropped as you soaked in his look of amusement “That’s exactly what I said!”

“Really? I recall you saying ‘weird green screen suits that actors wear’” He swiftly dodged the pillow that you hurled in his direction “They’re the same thing!!” He smiles slightly before speaking again “I think I would still remember you” You look up at him confused “If the entire world theoretically went blue I would still remember you”

“Remember?”

“Well it would be easy to forget everything wouldn’t it? Everything would just blend into blueness”

You laughed slightly at his words “Then I think I would remember you too” You fidgeted slightly with your fingers as you looked him in the eyes.

“How so?” He asked, it was funny how much it seemed like a challenge to you.

“Like if there was a line of things and you I would be able to pick you out” You felt high on the moment, giggling for no apparent reason “It would be like blue, blue, blue, then you”

“You think so?” His pencil rolled over the top of his long forgotten work, his gaze fixed wholly on you.

“I know so” You hummed quietly, allowing silence to blanket the room, feet dangling from the edge of your chair as you listened to the quiet ticks of the clock behind you.

note; literally first time i've posted on this site ever and its a drabble I wrote at 1am... anyway enjoy! sorry if he's a bit out of character I'm literally fighting sleep. also I got the idea for this from the song blue and you by mad honey so give it a listen!

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #gender neutral reader #fluff #drabble #i wrote this at 1 am #not beta'd

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harmonic-melodii · 2 months

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Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks, @davycoquette, It's time for me to drop some more lore about myself! My answers will most likely end up longwinded. And here's a link to the original post too for the questions if you'd like to fill them out yourself! Link

About You

When did you start writing?

I started writing around 2016, so when I was about 12 years old. I was already an avid reader and devoured every single book I came across. Back then my stories were much more fantastical, but the passion never died.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I will never write Historical Fiction despite it being one of my favorite genres to read. Books that delve into alternative history or simple romance stories that take place around historic events have always held a special place in my heart. Why will I never write in that genre? Because I'm not built for the research that goes into creating those settings.

I also enjoy the occasional romance novel, though I don't write romance-specific stories. The lightheartedness is a much-needed break from the gritty stories and concepts I write. At most I include romantic subplots in some things, but I don't like focusing on romance as a plot.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Not for my fantasy works. For sci-fi, I would like to emulate Ray Bradbury. I've always loved his books and short stories. And how he wrote about the human condition and its interactions with technology for better and worse. Though I cannot say I have written anything as profound yet.

As for poetry, I'm heavily inspired by many African-American poets like Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. As a young black woman myself, I hold a lot of respect for similar artists in my discipline that came before me. And while my poems are inspired by my experiences and struggles with race, I believe they can bridge gaps of understanding.

Overall, I have never been compared to any authors.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

My writing spaces are as chaotic and fluid as me. Sometimes I will be sitting at my desk with a water bottle and typing on my computer. Other times I'll lie in bed at 2 am typing furiously into my notes app. Hell, I have a tiny spiral notebook that's a bunch of index cards with entire plots and character profiles. I write wherever and whenever I can.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Music. I create countless playlists, some of which I'll share soon. I probably have over 70 total. Not all for my WIP or other characters that exist, but all of them are for writing in some form or another. Otherwise, I try to regularly consume new media. That is a lot harder because it takes so much energy for me to engage with new content, but when it works it works.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Not necessarily. Very little of my inspiration comes from the beach town I grew up in. Rather I'm influenced by places where I've endured insane life trauma. Don't worry, there's no trauma dumping here. I want to write about those places because it allows me to visit them again safely and on my own terms.

As for people, yes a handful of my characters are inspired by people I've met. Some are not the best. But hey, it makes for decent inspiration.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

I feel like I always gravitate towards writing about religion in some form or another. I was raised Christian myself and currently identify as Agonistic. I like deconstructing faith and what it means to believe in something greater than yourself. So it doesn't entirely surprise me that I circle back to religion in one way or another.

I also write a lot about family dynamics and the platonic love or lack thereof within those dynamics. And about the limits of love and what is considered "too much".

Your Characters

Me? Talking about the lesbians in my novel?? Yep!

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Hands down my favorite character in the cast is Aaliyah. She's the main protagonist. An optimistic college freshman, who has an intense thirst for knowledge. She was raised by her father, Ezra, all on his own. Ever since she could remember it's only been the two of them. She's funny, sweet, but very sheltered at the end of the day.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

I think I'd be decent friends with Graham. She's a guitarist in a rock band. A little rough around the edges, but I'd love to hear the music she plays.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

It'd probably be Ezra. He's a strict man and quite judgmental of people. If anything he'd dislike me first and I'd simply have to fire back on principle.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

In general, all of my characters start as an idea or concept. For example: Graham came to fruition because I thought it'd be funny for the man who oversees campus safety at this small college to have a rebellious daughter. Then slowly, I add more details about who she is as a person. I ask "why?" questions all of the time. Once I have a solid idea of who they are, I connect them to other characters. Sometimes relationships come before the solid idea and they help.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

I write so many lgbtq+ and people of color. I genuinely don't think I have many cishet white characters. Because if they're not straight, then they're bisexual, lesbian, or asexual. I write a handful of trans people (Graham my darling beloved is trans). And I don't write a ton of white people because I enjoy writing things that represent me and my communities.

When it comes to this specific unnamed WIP the characters share themes of guilt, love, and rebellion. Which is what creates the perfect storm of the plot they find themselves in.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I use picrews to imagine what my characters look like. I don't draw and I prefer the blank canvas I get with avatar creators. It's very freeing.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I write to share my thoughts and feelings. My opinions will be heard one way or another.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Honestly, most comments are motivating enough. Just the idea that someone looked at my work and felt compelled to write something about it is enough for me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Character building and writing tension. I feel both go hand in hand when you're writing scenes. The stronger the character the better potential for a tangible relationship between the two.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Professors have complimented me on tension and character-building. I've been told I have the ability to really dig things out.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

It's fun and cool. Best hobby ever!

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Definitely. In fact, I'd probably write in obscure and weird places. Like I'd get paint and write lines of poetry on the street. Things like that. All of my writing doesn't need to be read, I just like getting it out of my head.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

As someone who has also written fanfiction, I don't care what other people enjoy. I write for myself first and foremost. Because for every single person who doesn't like my writing, I know there's at least a handful of people who love it. If I focused on what people enjoyed reading I simply wouldn't be writing my WIP novel.

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

Tag list time !

@sodaliteskull @honeybewrites @cowboybrunch @writeblragenda

+ Open tag to anyone else who wants to participate!

#writeblr #tag game #oc tag game #writing community

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respondedinkind · 9 months

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Okay, okay, so... the new year isn't here yet, but 2023 is coming to an end very soon and I have planned to make a post - so here it is.

What this post is about? You!

I just want to be here and say thank you to everyone who has joined me here on my blog, even though I haven't been around for long. I am insanely grateful for each and every single one of you being here, for all the good memories you allowed me to make, and that so many of you welcomed me - and my muse - with open arms. I am so happy that you gave - and still give - me opportunities to explore my own writing and my muse's behaviors, and I just cannot stop saying it enough: THANK YOU!

I met some incredible people over the last months - some of which are people that I have RPed with before and where I was oh-so-excited to have them met again, after all these years of me having been separated from my Khan-muse because of fandom-changes, interest-changes, whatnot; For those of you who don't know, I first started to write Khan in 2012, BEFORE Star Trek into Darkness even aired, solely based on speculations and a teaser trailer lol. It wasn't very serious, but then definitely developed into what is my most-written muse after the movie finally came out and Khan just invaded my brain like some kind of parasite.

Since then, I have made a few blogs, kept writing Khan for a couple of years, then went on hiatus - remade, revamped, wrote for a few more years, disappeared... and now here I am again, with an AU-Version I was very, very scared to just put out here but now I am so, so glad I did. Thank you all for allowing me to write it, and yeah, I'm repeating myself, but... the opportunies I got and still get? So wonderful. Thank you so much for giving my Khan a chance.

Besides that, I also expanded my horizon a little and made two more blogs: One is on a little hiatus right now, while I am very active on the other thanks to some wonderful human beings who basically set my love for that character into flames. I hope that, and I mean that with the utmost sincerety, my choice of 'second and especially third muse' is not taken as a will to replace anything or anyone, but rather me being so immensely starstruck by other writers that have given me such a great insight and made me want to explore the depths as well.

Okay, okay, this is already insanely long and I am so sorry (I am unsure if anyone will ever read this lol), but now I want to give a shout out to ALL OF YOU, who are here, writing with me! All of you are so, so amazing and I am so glad to have met you, and I hope we can continue to write for as long as our muses and our creativity will let us. Thank you, again, and please take a look at those awesome people in case you aren't already following each other:

First of all, amazing writers and amazing people in general that I look up to (in no particular order), who are inspiring me in so many ways, make me feel a bit like a teenager gazing at their favorite star (lol) and just... are great people, yes, that I just want to mention separately for varying reasons:

@ssolessurvivor (Friend! Omg! When you first followed me, I could never imagine how things would ever develop - and how well Logan would fit to Khan, how their story developed into what it is now, so deeply plotted and filled with so many sub-stories and little moments that push both our muses along, allow me to explore my Khan on so many levels... it's insane how attached he is to your Logan, and I am so, so happy about us being in so much contact and just keep plotting and talk about everything! You are such a friendly mun and I am so, so grateful that you indulge me, even over on Stephen (hehe). I hope we can keep writing for a long time; Thank you so much for letting me throw in all my ideas about Khan, all the quirky things about him, I am so, so grateful!!! ♥)

@darehearts (I felt insanely welcomed by you, giving my Khan *and* my Bones such a chance to interact with Kirk ♥ Thank you so much for that, and thank you so much for indulding in my Khan-joins-the-crew idea as a Kirk-writer. That's definitely not something you need to do and yet you allow me. Ahhh! I was so blown away when you asked me if I wanted to become mains sdfasadfasd. Still am honestly because I am just a potato haha. Thank you for being here and being such a kind person ♥)

@strxngetimes (seriously, I was so nervous approaching you first but I am so glad I did; I do look up to you like you're some kind of superstar (haha) and I am still amazed that you gave me the chance of exploring things the way we do. Thank you for indulging me AND enduring me (and my muse lol), and you really, really inspire me in so many ways when it comes to your Stephen, it's amazing. You actually caused my interest for him to go back up into flames and for me to join the MCU fandom lol (and I would also bother you on your tony BUT i am SO UNWORTHY hahaha). Thank you - I hope we can keep writing for a while longer ♥ And I look forward to everything that might further develop between Khan and Stephen. Very much <3 Love them a lot!)

@mehrere-musen (Ok but really, of course I have to mention you. The way you accepted me, the way we started to write and things just??? Happened??? I love interacting with you and your Stephen and I love the way he works with Khan too, and I am so happy that you allowed me to be with the two where they are. Our thread has almost 800 notes by now which is insane, and with how we keep having ideas, it might go further than that lol. Thank you so much for indulging me - and thank you to Stephen to make Khan so insanely happy. :) ! I hope we can continue to write for a long time! ♥)

@fasciinating (SPAWK! I know we don't do a lot of OOC chatting in any way but our thread??? You are so good for just throwing us into that mess and for you to be like 'lmao ok here let Khan do whatever' and where are Spock and Khan now??? A NIGHTMARE LOL. I love the creativity and how you maneuvered us into that mess of a situation and how we can just seriously fuck moments up and go 'ah yeah somehow there's a rabbit also the world explodes'. I also love the way you write Spock! Thank you so much for giving my Khan a chance, despite his 'AU-ness', and that I get to explore such an interesting storyline! I was also very happy to have found you again, because I remember you from a long time ago (even though we didn't write much back then I think? But I remembered your name!)).

@sxbaist (MY BELOVED! God, you have no idea how insanely happy I was when I realized you were still there. Vega has stolen Khan's heart back when we first wrote so many years ago and when I rebooted him with his AU Version, my heart almost stopped when I saw you were still active and around. I was so, so nervous to approach you - but you welcomed me back, so did Vega welcome back my Khan, and honestly... I love them so, so much, and I adore you so much as a person. Thank you for doing all of that, for allowing me back, for Khan to have his wonderful woman back and for them to enjoy each other. It feels like as if they never got separated at all and I cannot express my gratitude enough, really. You as a person are so awesome as well and I will forever wait for your return! You are also the only other Khan I write with, so I will mention your @paramounticebound here too because your Khan is insanely great and I look up to him so, so much, people need to know!!!)

@vuulpecula (OK but listen, I know we also don't do much OOC chatting at all BUT!!! I just have to mention you here too because the things we do are just so??? SO??? HNNG like lmao we just write each other like 'ok what should happen' AND THEN DOOM HAPPENS to either Khan / Fox and Stephen / Fox LOL as if we got no chill really! I enjoy it a lot to explore those plots and see where things will go! Also you are such a kind person and so easy to talk to!!! Thank you for also indulging me on Stephen hehe ♥ and also all the things on Khan ofc!)

If I could, I would write every single one of you such a text, but alas... if I were to, I wouldn't be finished in 2025 (lol), so I hope you take my gratitude and my love for you as a combined package as well; You are all wonderful people and I am so glad to have you here, and it has been a joy - I hope it will continue to be a joy in the future too, and I cannot wait to see how things will develop (once again, in no particular order):

@whydotheykeeptakingmine ♥ @noblehcart ♥ @resignedworkaholics ♥ (also over on Stephen) @he1msman | @spacesk1pper | @entrpz ♥ (also on Bones) @ensnchekov | @cosmiicheskaya ♥ (also on Bones) @vulku ♥ @onlybonesleft ♥ @wtsns | @agntross ♥ (also over on Stephen) @goodheartedfool ♥ @oceansfirst ♥ (also over on Stephen) @kingofthewebxxx ♥ (also over on Stephen) @fallenregent ♥ @danversiism ♥ @nursc ♥ (also over at Bones) @nightmdic ♥ @brooklynislandgirl ♥ @defectivexfragmented ♥ (also over on Stephen) @haiiling ♥ @gcldenratio ♥ @hiippocrates ♥ @tangleweave ♥ (In case I have forgotten someone: I am so, so, so, so, sorry!!!!)

Also, last but not least: Should you not be named on this list, this does not mean I am not grateful for you or don't appreciate you! I thank you for being here, especially if we have already written something... and even if you follow me and I do not follow back, I am still immensely grateful that you're here in the first place, even if you might not stay ♥.

Thank you so much for every single one of you, really - everyone I mentioned here, everyone I did not. Because of YOU my experience on this (and my two other blogs) is what it is. Without you I wouldn't be where I am now, I wouldn't be able to explore my Khan, my Bones, my Stephen, and I wouldn't be able to have such a good time.

I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST FOR 2024 - MAY GOOD LUCK, LOTS OF LOVE, HAPPINESS AND FORTUNE COME YOUR WAY! No matter where you are, or what your plans are... you are valid, you deserve to be here, you deserve to do what you want to do and you deserve all the good things coming for you.

THANK YOU.

L. finally over and out. (and if you read up this far, you'll get a cookie from me!)

#Out Of Character #tw long post #A thank you post to all of you. I know it is insanely long)#(but i can never keep myself short lol)

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