#keir rambles

[writersminagerie]

Ok I have to sob over Tara and Ronin from Epic for a sec.

Here we have the ultimate ship: childhood friends, who are a forbidden romance as one's a royal and the other is the head of their guard. On top of that they have that grumpy x sunshine trope where the grumpy one only smiles for their sunshine character. They also CLEARLY like each other.

And what do they do with this amazing ship?

After the pair nearly escaping an enemy ambush together Tara is shot with an arrow in Robin's arms and falls off the bird they were flying on.

WE WERE ROBBED!!

[idridian]

you'd better hope and pray that you make it safe back to your own world

(full disclosure it's 6:30am and i haven't slept so uhhhh uhhhhhhh)

(since ghost aren't as nice as hatari about me making niche edits using their music, the video is apparently blocked in belarus and russia. sorry if you're from there and wanted to see this. go file a complaint with whichever papa is currently in charge)

[keira-draws]

the williams siblings have been floating around in my brain all day

[red-might-be-dead]

KEIR AND DEV WERE GEOMETRY DASH CHARACTERS THIS WHOLE TIME ARE YOU JOKING

[gerec]

For the fic meme: 36, 38 and 40!

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What’s the one you’re most proud of?

Fic titles are SO HARD ugh (worse than summaries imo)! Most of the time I just try to find a sentence that best represents the theme of the fic. My favorite is probably from one of the earliest fics I wrote for the x-men fandom In Every World There Is You and Me. I just...think it's fitting both for the plot and for the pairing (Cherik obvs), and the story is pretty much exactly what you would expect from the title :D

38. “This never happened” fix-it fics or “this happened but” fix-it fics?

Wow that's a tough one I don't actually think I have a preference??? I'm trying to think if I tend to write one vs the other but I think it's a pretty even split lol.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

'Happily ever after' only exists in dreams and fairytales.

Yet another writing ask

[hjemne]

I am so fucking glad that the lib dems are the best anti-tory party in my constituency because holy shit I don't wanna be made to vote for starmer

[whoreofhallownest]

PH Impasse Issue

So, here's the thing:

Perverse Hallownest was meant to just be shameless porn. It was supposed to focus on just Violette.

But then I accidentally made Keir, and then more characters who were going to be harem partners and--

that's not really the direction I wanted to go with this story.

There wasn't meant to be any lasting male partners, not until the very very end.

And I can't help but think that having even just one lingering male partner, even if he's rarely even mentioned, feels like, I dunno, a cop out? It doesn't feel like Violet is doing this alone anymore. Like she's not as helpless. Like it's not just HER story anymore. And trying to balance Violette's 'relationships' with these male partners with the absolute degenerate crap that I want to put her through...I dunno, it feels weird. Maybe because all of the male partners are relatively normal. Going from the perverted world to these characters that are just normal feels disconnected, in some way.

But at the same time, I really like the characters I've created and the ideas I've developed for them. So I'm reluctant to just...cut them out...

But they don't fit, and they utterly ruin an idea I really liked for later on....

Removing Hathon, vespen, Nyre and Zel-Ruune would be easy, even if I have to scrap the ideas I like for them. They haven't really been integrated yet.

But Keir...

Keir has. And he's the most developed of them all.

Keir was meant to be part of the punishment for stealing a Mantis Claw. Violette was supposed to be put in jail for the theft, and then given the chance to fight to earn her freedom (because that seems like a very mantis thing to do.) Keir was who she was meant to fight, and to loose to.

And when Violette knows she's about to loose, she tries to offer sex in order to buy herself time to survive.

As it stands now, for Plot Reasons, this essentially made Violette his trophy wife, a conquest he 'owned'. This connected them, but it also gave Violette a get out of mantis jail free card; Keir let her leave after she explained to him why him keeping her as a fuck toy would be a bad idea for literally the entire kingdom.

And therein lies the main problem with Keir; even if Violette NEVER goes back to mantis village, that connection would remain for the rest of the story.

Removing Keir would mean removing ALL of that. Because there's no point in have her get thrown in jail if nothing would become of it. it'd just be a waste of time. So it would literally just be Violette running in, stealing a claw, and then hauling ass back out of there because mantises scare her and she doesn't like to hurt them because they're not infected.

I suppose, perhaps, that maybe there's a way to keep Keir's part if I changed some things...

If I remover Keir's ability to hear Violette (there was gonna be a mod reason for that, but it feels gimmicky now.) they would have no reason to talk. Violette couldn't tell him anything. But Keir also wouldn't explain to Violette just what it meant to him, as a mantis, when he'd accepted her forfeit of the fight and claimed her as his conquest. She would not know that information.

Perhaps, after Keir had dragged her back to his hut, he tries to tell her he essentially owned her now/she was his wife, but she would assume that he was just being an egotistical dickbag. Especially when he'd demand more sex immediately after. [This path would also make Keir seem like much more of an asshole than he actually is]

Either way, under his 'control' now, as opposed to trapped in jail, it would be much easier for Violette to just...sneak out of the village while he's asleep. All she'd need to do was pick the lock, or even just steal the key. And she'd be free to just run her little Vessel ass out of the village, and continue on.

Going this route would be reasonably believable, keep consistent to the fact that Vessels can't be heard by non-void beings, allow me to keep the idea of mantis prison (which I really really like) but also remove the feeling that, from now on, Violette was tied to another character in some way. The focus would remain on her, fully.

But, that said, it also opens up a conundrum, and that is Keir waking up to find she ditched and getting VERY angry. (I like to imagine him storming out of the house to search the village, and just coming across some poor mantis who's like "Hey did u send ur new wife out for some eggs last night? I saw her wandering around last night." and him getting even more pissed off.) And Keir isn't the sort of mantis who wouldn't try to come after her to get her back.

Which means that, eventually, he would find her. and he would reveal to her just what she was to him. Which puts us all the way back as square one.

There is a way that I could delay this...Keir is a mantis tasked with protecting the village and patrolling to keep the infected out. This limits his ability to just leave and spend weeks tracking Violette down. But keeping Keir in the village would make him stew in his anger, and that would potentially make the blow-up whenever he does encounter Violette again even worse.

Focusing on Violette would make it feel like the thing with Keir was left open-ended, and perhaps it would make the reader expect something to arise from that. Logically, something would. The only question would be how long to push it.

Actually, several more questions, the second being: is this idea even any better, when it doesn't actually solve anything except minor things? Or is it just an attempt to delay? And would it be fair to the reader to just...never resolve it before the end of the 'game'?

And how does this even begin to fix anything with the others? Of them, only Hathon's current encounter idea would be feasible. He and Violette never had a lasting connection, he only shows back up later, arbitrarily. having a single encounter with him would probably be fine. Vaspen's would need to be cut entirely; the events require them to be able to communicate.

And maybe Zel-Ruune should just be cut entirely; I'm not sure about his very existence.

There is another potential character who I've been trying not to develop because I already had too many of these males, who could take Zel-Ruune's place while also being 'distant' and not really a 'partner' outside of an encounter, maybe two...

I have literally nothing for Nyre, so he'd be the easiest to cut (and yet also the one I least want to cut bc Pretty Moth.)

Man I just don't know.

[daycourtofficial]

Your Love is My Drug

Summary: This is very similar to Love Potion No. 9, but flipped. You get drugged while on a mission, and the side effects are… interesting. Azriel takes care of you, causing your feelings to bubble to the surface.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, dry humping(which is super under appreciated btw). MINORS DNI

Author’s note: this is my first time writing smut, so I hope it turns out okay!

Entering into Keir’s study took your breath away. Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and you came up to the Hewn City to look for some papers Keir might have hidden in his study, which you and Feyre are about to search as Cassian and Rhys stay with Keir.

The walls were lined with tons of vials of potions, brews, and mysterious liquids. Syringes loose with unknown poisons inside, ancient books open, every surface covered.

“Keir gives me the creeps,” you tell Feyre, shuffling through the desk, skimming all the loose papers for what you need.

“He gives everyone the creeps,” she laughs.

After several minutes of searching, Feyre finds what she needs, holding it up in the air like a trophy. “Let’s go,” she says, reaching out for you, when a guard makes his presence known behind you by jabbing a syringe into your neck and pushing down.

You push him off of you, as Feyre runs for you, grabbing your hand, and winnowing you two away.

You arrive in the townhouse, and Feyre is clearly communicating with Rhys while she tries to check you over for injury.

Her prodding questions slightly annoy you, you telling her you’re fine and you just need some water. You feel a little fuzzy, a little unsteady, but overall very happy.

Feyre returns with some water, and in the moment of her absence, your demeanor has changed drastically.

“Thank you, Feyre darling!” You giggle, toasting the water to her, “so pretty, so sweet, such a good friend.” You mutter, your hand touching her cheek. You gulp down some water and continue, “Rhysand is very lucky to have you, you have spunk kid.” You end your statement by booping her on the nose and leaning against her.

Cassian and Rhysand winnow in to see Feyre holding you up, as you giggle into her hair, “when you shapeshift, what happens to your clothes? Do they stay under your fur? Or do you have to get new clothes?”

Cassian wants to laugh, it was a fair question, but all he and Rhys knew is that someone drugged you before you all quickly escaped. After dropping Cassian off, Rhys had winnowed away again in search of Madja.

“Cassian!” You yell, forgetting about Feyre and moving to embrace Cassian. Despite your state, you had quite the grip on him now as you embrace him.

“Cassian, you’re so funny,” you pull his face down so you can look at his face, “and you have very nice teeth,” you say, opening his lips so you can see his teeth. You pull his lips up so he’s smiling, “such a nice smile.”

“What is happening,” Cassian asks through the smile you’re making him wear.

“I don’t know,” Feyre responds, coming over, “we came in and she slowly got loopier and loopier.”

“Cassian,” you look at him with such intense sadness he’s terrified of what you have to say, coming closer to his face as you drop your voice,“do your wings get cold when you’re flying up high in the sky? Especially during winter?”

Cassian can’t help the laugh that erupts from him, the seriousness of your face, the concern in your tone, and the absurdity of the question make him lose it.

“They get a little chilly,” he admits, looking down at your adorably concerned face, “but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You look at his wings, “you could wear a scarf around them.”

Before Cassian can explain how scarves would make his street cred go down, Rhys winnows with Madja.

“Rhysie!” You say, loosening your grip around Cassian, turning to confront another victim to your ramblings, until Cassian wraps his arms around your waist, holding you in place.

“Let me go,” you say, trying to get Cassian to release you. “Let Madja look over you first, then you can attack Rhysie poo,” he replies.

Rhys gives his mate and his brother confused glances, speaking internally while Madja looks you over and you babble to Madja the whole time.

They tune back in to hear you telling Madja she’s really good at her job, and however much money Rhysand is paying her he should double it.

“Okay, Madja,” Rhys interjects, “what do you think?”

“I think,” Madja says, ending her examination, “if what you say is true, then she got incredibly lucky. I’m not sure if it’s because the potion was old or because of her body reacting to it, but this potion is nothing more than an intense drunken state. She’s very loopy, and she’ll need close watching. Her impulse control is way down, and anything that seems fun she might just do without thinking.”

As her sentence tapered off, Azriel’s shadows carried him into the room, alarm on his face. Clearly Rhys had asked him to come back at the first sign that something was wrong with you.

Azriel’s entrance caused Cassian’s arms to slacken around you, and you took off racing for him yelling, “Azzie!” Before launching into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Oh my gods you won’t believe what happened we were looking through Keir’s stupid ugly office and it had like tens of millions of potions and Feyre found the paper we needed and then this big mean guy came in and stabbed me right in the neck like a vampire but he wasn’t a vampire he was just ugly and then when he stabbed me something went into my blood but I’m all better now it’s gone.”

Azriel stood, looking between Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian, while you clung to him like a koala. He wasn’t even holding you up, you were just clinging to him, not taking a second to breathe during your story.

“She is not all better now,” Madja told him, looking at her pointedly. “She’ll be fine eventually, but until this potion exits her system she needs to be closely monitored.”

“I feel fine watch if I wasn’t fine could I do this?” You ask, pulling your hands from Azriel’s neck. What you planned to do he had no idea, but you started to fall so he had reach out wrapping his arms around you quickly before you fell.

Whatever you were doing with your hands, he couldn’t see, but he heard Cassian ask, “what is she trying to do?”

Rhys turns to the healer, “do you have any guesses as to what potion this was?”

The old healer grins, catching Rhysand by surprise, dropping her voice conspiratorially.

“I’d be willing to bet anything that it’s a love potion. Bet anything again that you won’t be able to pry her away from your shadowsinger. Sometimes when love potions get old, things become a bit muddier between platonic and romantic love, hence her jumping between the three of you.”

The four of them turn to look at you and Azriel, the two of you engrossed in a conversation Rhys thinks is about snails, but isn’t sure.

She lowers her voice, drawing their attentions again, “Once someone is under a love potion, though, they get very upset when away from the object of their affections.”

“And you think it’s him?” Feyre asks, even though they all know it’s a stupid question.

Madja gives her a look, rolling her eyes so hard she might strain herself, “only a fool wouldn’t recognize her devotion to him, and vice versa.”

Madja starts to leave, speaking louder for you and Azriel to hear, “again, she’ll be fine, you just can’t let her out of your sight until it’s gone. She is, essentially, a drunk toddler.”

-

The five of you convened in Rhys’s office to give a full report of what happened. Even though Azriel wasn’t there, he was still in attendance due to 1) his desire to know what happened and 2) your insistence that he be there. You hadn’t left his arms since jumping into them, just babbling away while he carried you to Rhys’s office, and now you were curled up in his lap, your head tucked into his neck, playing with one of his siphons.

“She’s actually quite adorable like this,” Cassian mumbles. They all turned to look at you, enthralled by the siphon as Azriel makes it glow and dim. “Can we keep her like this?”

“As adorable as she may be, she can’t stay like this forever,” Rhys replies. You lean across Azriel over to Cassian, grabbing one of his siphons too.

Feyre giggles, watching you hold the two up to the light, watching how pretty the look. You grab one of Azriel’s other siphons and start juggling with them. Cassian lunges forward for his siphon, but you are surprisingly very good at juggling and keeping Cassian’s siphon away from him by planting your foot on his chest.

“Where do you keep the other ones when you don’t need them? Do you have a jewelry box for them?” You ask, not taking your eyes off them as you throw them around.

“Essentially, yes. They’re kept in special boxes.” Cassian replies, still nervous you’ll break one.

“Can anyone use your siphon? Like could Cassian use yours or vice versa?” You poke your tongue out in concentration, no idea that you’ve disrupted their discussion.

“No, siphons are picky, they pick their masters,” Azriel replies.

You catch all the siphons, ending your juggling routine with a little bow of your head.

“Anyway,” Rhys drawls, “we need to set up a schedule to watch her - considering her state I don’t want to leave her with servants. Feyre and I have a dinner to attend tonight-“

“I can watch her,” Azriel’s words cut Rhys off, “don’t worry about it.”

“Brother-“

“If I need help, I’ll ask Cassian. My shadows can help me keep an extra eye out.”

They all peered at you, having nestled back into Azriel’s chest and fallen asleep in the moment they took their eyes off of you, clutching the siphons to your chest as your chest slowly rose and fell. Rhysand looked at his brother, the two continuing their discussion telepathically.

Are you sure you can handle this alone? We don’t know how long it will last. It could be flushed out by the morning or could stay in her system for a week.

If you think I can’t handle taking care of one drugged girl then why am I your spymaster?

Because we both know she isn’t just some girl to you.

Azriel sighs mentally, causing Rhys to smirk.

Look, I’d be watching over her anyway. Do you really think I would leave her alone with Cassian in this state? She’d trick him into letting her run out the door within five minutes.

And you think you’re immune to her charms?

Azriel gives him a look, and Rhys decides to back off, changing the topic of discussion.

They had stayed in Rhys’s office for about an hour after you had nodded off, discussing what to do about Keir now that he likely knows what was stolen. A few minutes after you nodded off Rhys got you a blanket, the outfit you wore to the Hewn City not nearly enough to keep you warm. You had slept through most of the meeting, waking once to move your leg and taking the opportunity to swipe another one of Cassian’s siphons while he wasn’t looking. You had settled back onto Azriel’s chest, and he heard you whisper, “so cozy, so warm,” before nuzzling back into him and falling back asleep.

-

You’re not sure how long you were asleep when Azriel gently nudged you awake. He smiled at you sweetly, “come on, you need to eat and bathe before going to sleep.”

You groan, nuzzling further into his neck. “Don’t wanna, too sleepy,” trying to sound mean and intimidating so he’ll leave you be, but it just comes out adorable instead.

You hear Cassian chuckling, causing you to tighten your grip on the siphons you forgot you were holding. You peak out from Azriel’s neck, looking to Cassian, “what are you laughing at, bat boy, can’t even get your precious siphons back from a sleeping lady.”

Everyone but Cassian laughs, as he launches over to you, arms outreached to get them back. You squeal, “Az, save me,” ducking back under the blanket.

Suddenly the room is very quiet, and you peak your head out to find that Azriel has winnowed the two of you into one of his chairs in his room at the House of Wind.

“Thank you,” you say, “now you’re an accomplice in my thievery. Partners in crime, we are.”

He laughs, “we’ll hang together.”

You laugh, suddenly becoming sad, “if we hang together, will you hold my hand until the end?”

“Anytime,” he says. You take him up on this offer, and reach out to hold his hand then. You hold his left hand in both of yours, examining the entirety of his hand, before planting a soft kiss on the palm of his left then his right hand. “So pretty,” you murmur.

Azriel’s stunned into silence, but you fill the void with your voice, “I love your hands. The scars are beautiful. I think about your hands a lot - the things they’ve endured, the things they’ve done. They are still beautiful, they’re a part of you, and you are the most beautiful of all.”

You turn in his seat, grabbing his face in your left hand, tracing his face with your right. “You’re so beautiful, scars and all, demons and all.” Your eyes trace his face, as if committing this poximity to memory. “I could look at you forever and never feel restless.”

He is stunned, unsure if this is the drug making you think he’s someone else or just making things up in your mind, when he says, “you’ve been drugged, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be true.”

Your words sound incredibly sobering. Azriel can’t let this conversation keep going, he needed you aware and 100% into it to have this conversation. Besides, this is a conversation he’s accepted should never happen to preserve your friendship.

“Okay, do you want to eat or bathe first?”

You laugh, your moment of lucidity over, “can I take the siphons in the bath?”

-

Azriel prepared a bath for you with the special soap that makes the water bubble up. He helped unzip your dress, then looked away as you got into the bath. He would have let you bathe alone, however there was a slight concern you might drown or slip when you got out.

He heard you sink into the bath that was practically overflowing with bubbles. “Can I look now?”

“You could have been looking the whole time, silly.”

Since your confession while holding his hands, you had become much flirtier than usual. When he unzipped your dress you made a dirty joke that made his cheeks flush.

“Azzy,” the nickname rolling off your tongue, a nickname he usually doesn’t care for, but coming from your lips sounds divine.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, as he turns around to look at you in the bath.

“You have something on your face,” you tell him, giggling as he comes closer. When he’s close enough you grab his shirt and pull him into the tub, water spilling over the edge of the tub, coating the floor.

He’s spluttering as his head emerges, trying to breathe from the shock of the sudden dunk. He looks at you, annoyance with just a hint of amusement covering his face.

“Well, I had asked if you’d join me, and you said no,” you giggle, scooping up some bubbles into your hands and blowing them in his face.

Azriel concedes, unsure of what you’d do if he left the tub, so he settles in across from you, his legs surrounding the sides of your legs. Your very naked legs, hidden by the bubbles. This bath was excruciating for him, knowing that the only thing covering you were bubbles that would be gone in about fifteen minutes was actual torture.

“Okay, you got me in here, now what is your plan?”

You squint, thinking. You raise your hand, signaling with your finger for him to come closer. He leans closer, and you grab some bubbles, sticking them to his face.

“Bubble beard!” You exclaim while laughing. “You look like a pirate.”

-

You spent the remainder of your bath trying to get him out of his clothes, telling him how weird it was he was bathing fully clothed. Having you naked in his tub was already hard enough for him, removing his clothes as well? He’d lose all restraint on keeping your advances at bay.

The whole bath you kept whining, wanting to be in his lap again, or just having more contact than his legs touching your legs. You started rubbing your hands up his calves, and he has never wanted to rip off his clothing to feel someone’s touch quite like he had in that moment.

Your touch on his legs, the way you were looking at him like he was the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen and like he was a meal, the loss of bubbles giving him a better view of your breasts through the water. It was all too much.

Azriel jolted out of the water, standing in the tub and starting to put his legs over the edge to get out. You laugh at all the water that rushes over the sides of the tub, “what’s wrong Azzie?”

That nickname, your body in the tub, his disruption causing a lot of water to leave the tub, leaving your breasts exposed for him.

He was about to leave, about to get out before he did something he regretted, when he smelled it. He could smell your arousal, so sweet and so hot he practically moans at it.

“Sit, please,” you say, grabbing his hands and pulling him down to sit back in the bath. He complies, his brain making him think of sirens luring men to their deaths in the sea.

As he sits, wings splaying over the rim of the rub, you keep your hands in his, but you stay much closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. Keeping your eyes on his, you tell him, “a bath is no place for clothes.”

He shivers, as you trace your hands up his thighs. “Sweetheart, we can’t. You’re drugged.”

“I might be drugged,” you say, unable to keep yourself away, crawling into his lap, “but I can assure you I dream of you in every way imaginable. Sexual, romantic. I want to give you the moon.”

At this point you’re straddling his waist, starting to grind against his hard cock still in his pants. The bath water sloshing in the tub at your gentle rhythms. Azriel has to grip the edges of the tub to ground himself, remind him that this is real, not a dream.

He tips his head back, about to tell you no again, when you start attacking his neck with your mouth, littering hot, needy kisses up and down the column of his throat.

The coordinated attack of your faster rhythm and your mouth on his neck might actually cause Azriel to burst right into his pants, and then you start speaking again and he’s sure he’ll come undone in this bath.

“Think about you all the time.”

Bite.

“Think about how good your cock would feel inside of me.”

Suck.

“I touch myself almost every night thinking of what you could do to me.”

Moan.

It was all so much for Az. The confinement of his cock, the feel of you on him, he let go of the edges of the tub, opting to place them on the sides of your hips, helping guide you across his clothed length.

Azriel had never seen you so in command, so confident, and it made him want to devour you.

“I’ve always wondered how well the soundproofing on the rooms is because every night I am moaning your name, hoping you’ll come and actually make me moan.”

He digs his fingers into your sides deeper, finally able to remember his voice, “believe me, sweetheart, if I heard you moaning my name I’d burst through the door and have you moaning it all night.”

His left hand reaches up, grazing over your right breast. He’s gazing at you like you’re a recently discovered piece of art that hasn’t been seen in centuries.

“Can I hear it now?” He asks, thrusting up against your wet heat.

You moan his name, and he thrusts harder. You two are going faster, your hands roaming his body, his hands roaming yours. What’s left of the water is sloshing furiously, most of the water landing on the floor.

“I think about your hands exploring every inch of me.”

Both of your moans are echoing through the bathroom, a chorus of pleasures creating an erotic symphony.

“Azriel” you moan, practically vibrating from your climax, your mind going blank except for thoughts of him, but still moving because you need him to finish too.

The way you said his name drove Azriel over the edge, the two of you finishing together, in a practically empty tub.

Chests heaving, the entire floor coated in water, the euphoria fades entirely too quickly for Azriel’s liking with the weight of what he’s just done.

He took advantage of you. You’re drugged, you have no idea what’s going on, you probably have no idea who you just dry humped into completion.

He gets out of the bath, you still curled up to his chest. He pulls his wet pants off and grabs each of you a towel. He slings his towel around his hips, and sets you down so he can sling a towel around you as well.

You accept it, nuzzling back into his chest and he feels his heart lurch knowing that once your potion wears off, you’ll never be able to look at him again.

He braids your wet hair, despite your protests, and he goes with you to pick out some pajamas from your room, under your insistence.

As he gets dressed he has his shadows check the whole house. After getting the all clear, the two of you scamper down the hall, him in gray sweatpants and you in nothing but a towel.

Your room is neat and tidy like his, but you have much more decor around the room. Stacks of books, little framed photos, snow globes even.

He can’t help himself from snooping as you find a nightgown, and he spots a box on your vanity that seems to lure him, almost calling his name.

He opens the lid to find every note the two of you have passed during boring meetings or whenever the two of you do paperwork in the library and pass notes back and forth.

He smiles, the one top from him stating “if Cassian doesn’t stop chewing his bubble gum like that I might kill him”.

You cough, startling him. “I’m ready!” You say.

He spins around, closing the box, hoping you didn’t catch him snooping. If he thought the bath was torture, your nightgown is even worse. Flimsy straps, one of which has already fallen off your shoulder, midnight black, a small bow between your breasts. It barely covers your ass, for Mother’s sake.

He was in for a long night.

-

After much fighting and whining and convincing, you convince Azriel to sleep in the bed with you, promising you’ll keep your hands to yourself, except to cuddle. Azriel didn’t realize just how much you would use that stipulation to be practically on top of him all night.

It surprises him a bit, how easy it is to lay in bed with you, his left wing underneath you, pulling you towards him.

He’s decided you’re going to hate him whenever the drug wears off no matter what, so he’s all in on getting as much of you as he can.

The weight of your head on his chest, your arm draped over his stomach, your slow breathing as you dream. It’s more comforting than he’d expect, and before he can stop it he’s fallen asleep.

-

You woke the next morning, opening your eyes only to make direct eye contact with Azriel, sitting in the chair next to his bed.

“Good morning,” he tells you, a smile crossing his face. He’s anticipating silly, loopy you who is incredibly bold. Instead he watches your eyes widen, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as the memories all come back.

At first the memories were a little embarrassing, but easily written off. The more that come back to you, the more your cheeks heat.

Jumping on him, sitting in his lap, straddling him, forcing him into your bath.

“Oh my gods,” you stammer, shuffling in the bed to sit up. “Azriel, oh my gods I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”

Azriel’s moved to sit next to you on the bed. “No, I’m sorry. I was lucid, and I took advantage of you in a vulnerable moment. I completely understand if you want nothing to do with me.”

He starts to rise to leave until you dart out a hand around his wrist, “you? Taking advantage of me? I held you down and made you cum! I assaulted you! In a bathtub!” You’re not sure why the only part of that you whispered is ‘bathtub’.

“Look Az, I was pretty lucid, I just had no reservations. No impulse control. All I ever want to do is jump your bones and you were taking care of me and being so nice I couldn’t stop myself.” You fall back on the bed, putting your hands over your face, wanting the shame of assaulting the man you’re in love with to consume you.

He reaches out, removing your hands, “you want to jump my bones all the time?”

He’s smirking. The bastard is smirking at being assaulted.

Him holding your hands means you can’t hide, and you’ve already done something unforgivable so might as well put it all out there.

You sit up straighter to look him in the eye as you say, “Okay, fine, yes, I’ve already ruined our friendship by assaulting you, fuck it I’ll completely annihilate it! I spend an ungodly amount of time thinking about you, I haven’t even considered going on a date since I met you, you have probably ruined other males for me, and I am hopelessly and desperately in love with you!”

You practically shout the last part at the stupid smirk that won’t leave his face.

“I’ve ruined other males for you?”

You roll your eyes, “yes I expect them all to be as loathsome and annoying as you are.”

His smirk is somehow still growing as he eyes you up like a predator stalking his prey, “oh none of them are as loathsome and annoying as I am, and none of them are as hopelessly and desperately in love with you as I am.”

His smirk is replaced by a beaming smile as you process his words. He releases your hands from his grasp, cupping your face with them instead.

“You’ve ruined every female out there for me. I’ve been on one date since I met you, stupid busybody Rhysand set it up, I think in hopes to get me to confront how I feel about you.”

You’re about to ask about it, but he cuts you off, “it lasted 20 minutes. She was one of the teachers at Nyx’s school, nice, but she wasn’t you.”

He laughs, the memory lingering in his eyes, “Rhys was right, unfortunately. We went out and all I could talk about was you. I told her about you, how afraid I was to say anything.”

You move forward, deciding to straddle his lap for this conversation. His hands still on your face, he continues.

“She told me if you were as nice as I said you are, you’d never let my feelings get in the way of our friendship if you didn’t feel the same way. And that if you’re as beautiful and funny and intelligent as I told her you were, someone might beat me to it. And that would hurt worse than the rejection.”

Your hands reach up to cup his face, his beautiful, beautiful face. “And how long ago was this date?”

“It was right before your mission. When I got back I was ready to declare it all to you, but Nesta told me you guys were gone. And then when you came back drugged, I figured I would take care of you and when the drug wore off I’d tell you as soon as you came to.

“But then you ambushed me in a bath tub.”

You can’t help the laugh that bursts from your lips. “Now that I know you wanted it, you really can’t blame me. You looked really hot in the bath.”

Your hips start grinding against his involuntarily, the memory of rubbing against him still so fresh. You’re only in a nightgown and some panties, and you can’t help that he picked gray sweatpants to sleep in.

He grabs your hips, holding you in place, “you couldn’t help yourself? I just looked so hot? You were naked and practically begging me to touch you. It’s a miracle I restrained myself as much as I did.”

You laugh, you really were laying it on thick for him. He releases his hold on you for a second, and your hips immediately start grinding again.

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” he says, and before you can question it a shadow grabs each of your hands, pulling your head back down on the pillows, holding you in place. You start to squirm, about to move your legs, when more shadows appear, holding them down.

You gasp, as Azriel leans in to your ear, whispering, “last night you got to use me for your pleasure, holding me down, now it’s my turn.”

He shifts himself, his upper body between your legs, his face very close to your wet heat. He turns back to face you, and you can feel his breath on you, causing you to moan in need.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already so needy.” His fingers begin tracing the inside of your leg, starting at your ankle, moving up to your knee, he slows down while he moves up your thigh, and your breathing practically stops as he approaches your panties.

Your nightgown had shifted up, giving him the perfect view of your lacy, midnight blue panties.

“Do you always wear slutty panties, or only when you know you’ll see me?” He asks, playing with the edges of them, slipping his fingers under the edge to caress your hips.

You flush, embarrassed he figured you out. “I uh wear them on days I know I’ll see you, just in case.”

He chuckles darkly, slithering back up your body, pressing his hard cock against you as he tells you, “If I had known how much effort you put in I would have taken you ages ago.” His hips begin thrusting against you, and you try to hold back moaning but he continues. “Or just how pretty you look squirming underneath me, needing more of my cock. Or how pretty you look in that shade of blue, like you’re already marked as mine.”

He pulls back for a moment, pulling off his sweatpants, but leaving on his boxer-briefs.

“I said I’d return the favor,” he says, sliding back in between your legs, “and if I recall you spent a good amount of time telling me some of the dirty thoughts you’ve had about me.”

His hips continue, still just grinding against your heat, not even inside of you. Gods, you thought, he’ll be the death of me.

“So it’s only fair I tell you all about how I fist my cock wishing I was fisting your hair, keeping your mouth on my cock instead.”

His speed picks up, his hands resting on your throat, your moans drowned out by his mouth colliding with yours.

You open your mouth to let in some air and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue in, asserting dominance against your own. Just as fast as he entered your mouth, he left, pulling his mouth from yours. He chuckles at the groan you make at the loss of contact.

“All of Starfall I had to keep leaving because I couldn’t stop thinking about undoing the ribbons holding your dress up. I had to relieve myself at least three separate times.”

You remember the night well enough - you had worn a rather risqué dress by your standards, one where the bodice was made entirely of one strand of ribbon. It was incredibly tedious to get on, but you looked incredible in it, and you were selfishly hoping he would notice you in it.

“Would it mean anything if I told you I picked out that dress, hoping you’d cut the ribbon?” Your words coming out choppy between pants.

Your words clearly meant something to him, because he picked up his pace, grinding against you harder. Some of his curls have fallen into his face, and you move to brush them away, only to remember being bound.

You can feel yourself getting so so close, when he speaks again.

“I’ve spent a lot more time than I’d like to admit imagining what your arousal would smell like,” he begins undoing his leathers, “and now that I know it I can’t help but want to be coated in it.”

At his words, he slips your panties aside and slips inside of you. You moan his name, because at this point he is all you know. His body, his touch, his voice. He is all consuming.

He gently thrusts a few times, stretching you out, before he gains speed, filling you with him.

“Dreamed of how you’d feel around me. I gotta say, the reality is much better than my imagination.”

You’re both on the brink, Azriel thrusting harder, deeper, faster, both of your moans filling his room. You feel him spill into you and that causes you to come completely undone.

Azriel drops onto you, both of your chests heaving against each other. Your breathy pants die down, air coming back to the two of you. Azriel’s head cradled in your neck, his shadows releasing your hands and legs.

“I hate to say it but I am thankful for the bastard who drugged you.”

You laugh as he gets up, gathering his pants to put on.

“Rhys wants an update on you,” he says, smirking, “shall I tell him you’re in perfectly capable hands?”

You laugh, “no tell him I’m in the hands of a deplorable male taking advantage of a sweet, innocent girl.”

He roars with laughter, “sweet and innocent my ass. Tell that to the bathroom floor.” You laugh in response, snuggling back down into his sheets.

You look over, watching Azriel put on the two siphons you had stolen the night before, where they previously were sitting next to Cassian’s stolen siphon. You laugh, trying to figure out how long it’ll be until Cassian comes barreling through the door for it back.

“I imagine,” Azriel begins, following your gaze to the red gem, “he has been standing outside the room all night like some pervert, waiting for the door to open so he can slip in and take it back.”

He leans over the bed, capturing your mouth in a kiss, threading his fingers through your hair. You sit up on your knees, pressing into him as you kiss him back, putting everything into the kiss.

“I shouldn’t be too long, I’ll tell him you’re still under the influence and maybe I can get us a few more days of uninterrupted bliss.”

[alisoncooper]

ended up going to the accession proclomation this afternoon bc my autistic brain has a special interest in royal history and i knew i’d regret it if i didn’t as i would’ve hated missing out on a historic experience in person. ended up being pushed way nearer the front than i wanted to be by the crowd and i think the news cameras almost definitely caught me there :( at least i wore my guillotine earrings as a subtle nod to my feelings about the monarchy

[shadowdaddies]

Could you do a Rhys x reader where people always thought she was more masculine until she mated with Rhys where she started to become and feel more comfortable being feminine and just being herself.

It’s like the saying where if the woman feels safe enough and comfortable in the relationship, she allows herself to be more feminine and starts to relax little by little.

It’s also like that trend going around on TikTok where it’s like when you’re by yourself, you double check everything and you are hyper aware of everything around you, but the second your husband is there, you can relax and just turn off your brain and not worry about anything lol

Hopefully I explained this well enough. My dyslexic ass is having a rough time today 😀

okay tbh I'm not the most familiar with this but a special thank you to @lidiacerv0s for the help + showing me the TikTok trend. I hope you enjoy this, it was fun to write🤗💜

The Archer

Rhysand x fem!Reader fluff

warnings: this gets very suggestive towards the end, I couldn't help it 🤷‍♀️

With a final sweep of black coal to your eyes, you stepped back from the mirror, taking in your finished look. You kept the makeup simple but dark, to match the all-black tailored suit you’d donned for today’s meetings. Smoothing down the sides of your hair - neatly pulled back in a tight bun - you sighed, already tired of the facade you were building.

Rhys was busy with matters in Windhaven, leaving you in charge of the meeting with the Lords in the Hewn City today. It was doomed to be a day full of males challenging you and people looking to you for direction, something that always exhausted you.

A knock on your door distracted you from those thoughts, and you took one last look in the mirror at the severe female staring back at you before striding towards the door, head held high and chest out as you wore the mask of confidence you relied on as part of your role of High Lady.

The click of your heels echoed through the obsidian stone hallways, announcing your approach to the counsel room. The set of double doors were opened for you, your unamused gaze sweeping the room as you assessed the varying levels of nerves each Lord exuded in your presence. 

With a cruel smile, you looked to Keir, the Lord immediately straightening in his seat at your piercing gaze. You let out a dramatic sigh, long nails idly tapping against the long table as you relaxed in your chair. 

“Report,” you ordered, smooth voice cutting through the room like a knife as everyone grew impossibly silent. Keir rambled about problems in the Court of Nightmares, status of the Darkbringers. Complaint after complaint from each incompetent male at the table. All problems and no solutions. 

As Lord Thanatos began to complain about his daughter and the behavior of the young women in the court for the thousandth time, you cut him off, letting the dark look in your eyes convey the thinly veiled threat that lurked beneath your words like a shark in the water.

“I will be sure to check on your daughter, as well as all the females in this Court soon. Any threats that we find will be dealt with at the hands of the Shadowsinger.” You looked pointedly at Thanatos with those words, your lips curving upwards as the scent of his fear permeated the air. 

“Now that you all have your agendas, this meeting is adjourned.” You stood from your chair, chin high as you strode towards the doors that were already being opened for you. 

With a glance over your shoulder, you flashed a feline grin at the males, each of them shrunk into the seat of their chairs as they stared at you, wide-eyed like the helpless children they were inside. “Do not disappoint me,” you purred, a final warning before you disappeared from their sight.

You barely held your composure, forcing yourself to keep a leisured pace until you were away from everyone. Closing the door to your room, you nearly collapsed against the wood as you finally let the mask slip. 

An inviting tug on the bond nearly brought tears to your eyes - Rhys was home. Without a second thought, you winnowed back to Velaris, kicking off your heels as you ran to where Rhys stood, stirring something that smelled incredible over the stove.

“You’re home,” you cried, running towards him. Rhys set down the ladle, fully turning towards you as he wrapped you in his arms, allowing you to sink into his comforting warmth. 

Pressing a kiss to your head, Rhys tilted your chin up to look at him. “You are so beautiful, darling,” he whispered, capturing your lips in his in a hungry kiss. You collapsed into his hold, back arched as you allowed yourself to be swept away from your worries as he swept your feet off the ground.

“Are you making dinner?” you murmured against his lips, admiring the way Rhys’s violet eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, playfully bumping his nose against yours. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I’m trying a new recipe that I think you’ll love.” Tears threatened to spill as relief washed over you, this magnificent male who would always care for you, look out for your needs.

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered, allowing Rhys to set your feet back on the ground as he prepared plates for the two of you. 

“Come here,” Rhys purred, patting his leg as he took a seat at the table, both plates in front of him. You practically squealed with delight as you dashed to claim your seat in your mate’s lap. Relaxing against his warm chest, you sighed as Rhys slid an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles against your skin as he cut your food for you. 

“Here, darling,” Rhys whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck as he brought the fork to your lips. You moaned at the flavors, head leaning back against Rhys as you murmured praises for his cooking. 

“I am so lucky to have you,” you whispered, kissing his cheek as Rhys grabbed another forkful of food for you. 

He simply chuckled, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “And I you, my love.”

Once you were content, a full meal resting in your stomach, you began to gather the plates to clean up. “No you don’t. Let me do that. Why don’t you go take a bath, change into something more comfortable?” Rhys teased, his eyes darkening with barely controlled desire.

You responded with a smirk, pulling your hair from its updo as you let the hair fall over your shoulders in waves. “I can do that. But I want to bake you something for dessert after,” you countered. 

Rhys swallowed thickly as he watched you ascend the staircase, his eyes trained on your form with each step. You stepped into the bathroom, a content sigh slipping from your lips as you breathed in the floral scents wafting from the already-filled bathtub. 

Peeling off the offensive suit, an unabashed moan left you at the feeling of the warm water on your muscles. Allowing yourself to soak for a short while, you scrubbed the memories of the day from your skin before stepping out of the tub. 

A devious grin graced your lips at the idea that came to mind as you stared in your wardrobe, pulling the lacy pink lingerie from the drawer. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help the bright smile that took over your features as the real you smiled back. 

You strode down the stairs, the confidence you exhibited real this time as you locked eyes with your mate. Rhys watched you, enchanted, from the other side of the room, admiring your free-flowing hair and the way the lace of your lingerie framed your curves.

“What are you doing?” he choked out, his knuckles white as they clutched the countertop.

Bending over, you gave your mate a view of the cheeky panties you wore (if they could even be called that) as you pulled ingredients from the cabinet. “I’ve had to deal with those incompetent males, wear awful restrictive clothing all day... I just want to spend some time with my mate, wearing something that’s a bit more... me,” you finished with a giggle, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you cracked an egg in the bowl.

Rhys prowled to stand behind you, his hands roving over every part of you he could touch. Playfully swatting away his hand, you shook your head as you scolded him.

“If you would like to help with the baking, you are welcome to. We can play later,” you whispered, lifting up on your toes to give a playful tug to his earlobe. Rhys shivered, but nodded as he stepped back slightly. 

“I would always like to do whatever serves my lady,” he responded, his finger lightly grazing your arm. “What can I do for you?” 

You hummed thoughtfully, swaying your hips as you whisked. “I would love if you would taste this for me,” you declared, scooping a bit of the chocolate batter on your pointer finger. Violet eyes darkened further as Rhys gripped your wrist in his large hand, drawing your finger into his mouth. 

You could see the moment he scented your arousal, his tongue flicking against the digit as his eyes remained locked on yours. “Delicious, as always,” he moaned, smirking as you pulled away with a blush.

“Alright then, let me get this into the baking pan then,” you whispered. Before you could reach for the pan, Rhys already had it in his hand, reaching for the bowl as he poured the remaining batter. 

Rhys held you in his lap, playing with your hair as you told him about your day, and listened about his while the brownies baked. 

“You are an incredible female,” your mate murmured, his sweet words interrupted by the timer signaling that dessert was ready. You leapt from Rhys’s lap, enjoying the feeling of his eyes on your body as you plated dessert for the each of you and returning to your spot on his lap. Pleased moans left the both of you at the rich taste of dessert, and you settled into Rhys’s arms, deep contentment settling over you. 

Rhys scooped you up bridal style, carrying you over to the couch where he wrapped himself around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands idly wandered your body. 

“What else do you want to do tonight?” Rhys whispered, dipping his head to pepper kisses along your neck.

A content sigh left you at the comfort and care he was giving you, a vibrant contrast to the dark role you played earlier today. “Nothing tonight. I just want to spend time with you, my perfect mate,” you responded, pressing a lingering kiss above his heart as you settled into him.

“Well, how about tomorrow I take you shopping? And then we could get dressed up, go to a nice dinner?” Rhys questioned, his playful tone a show of exactly how well he knew you. 

“I could be convinced to do that, I suppose,” you retorted, unable to hold in the joyous laugh that escaped you. 

Rhys flipped you over, his onyx locks falling in his eyes as he caged you in underneath him. “Good, because I’m not done with dessert. And these,” Rhys emphasized with a snap against the band of your panties, “will need to be replaced,” he purred as you heard the fabric rip.

[writersminagerie]

I'm over here trying to hate Gortash for what he's done to my wife Karlach but he has to go kicking his feet and fangirl over Durge. Fuck. Fine I'll write Durge x Gortash I guess.

[idridian]

if these six seconds don't convince you to watch this film, nothing ever will

[rottenraccoons]

Hello! I recently played the game and fell in love with it! The story so far, the premise of it, how the backgrounds and side characters and LI’s all work together art wise(at least in my opinion) and immersion isn’t ruined by a sudden change, the music oh goodness can I ramble about music!

Anyways, I have an NSFW ask if it’s alright? Personally, I get overwhelmed when feeling too much or there’s too much stimuli and, for lack of better phrase, lose my verbality. Things become too much and I lose my voice. How would the LI’s accommodate for losing speak, whether it be during sex or an emotional experience? (In short, be unable to vocalize a safe word) I know some “alternatives” that I’ve read about can be like snapping or tapping a certain pattern. I’m also asking because I adore the safe word system in game sooooo much, and am just. Well. Curious. On how a nonverbal safeword would be used (from a story pov, just to clarify just in case)

Thank you so much, nonny! ❤️ Please do ramble about the music, one of my favourite things in the world is pinging Cajsa to show her all the nice things folks are saying about her work!

As for your ask:

Francesco The idea of someone suddenly losing their voice is a little scary to him, so this is something he would want to be informed of beforehand, so he's prepared to adapt to his partner, should this happen.

(Of course, he's also thrilled to be able to make this happen in the first place)

Keir If rough play or pain isn't usually involved in bedroom antics, he'll probably just ask to be pinched or otherwise given an unmistakable sensation if things need to stop. But if that isn't gonna work, he's gonna wait some kind of agreed-upon signal or signals to keep communication moving smoothly. Preferably not something noise-based, given his own tendency to be noisy.

Oleander Frankly, someone being so overwhelmed by sex that they lose their voice is extremely hot to him! His goal in bed is to render his partner incoherent anyways. That said, safewords are very important and figuring out a good signal to make sure things stop when they need to is a very fulfilling challenge to him.

Cirrus This wouldn't be his first experience with a non-verbal partner. You mentioned tapping, which is one of the first options he would gravitate towards, as well as things like hand squeezing. Of course, sometimes it depends on the context!

During a scene where his partner has their hands tied up or are unable to use them for some reason, he might ask them to nod or shake their head.

Of course, this is risky. If he ever gets the feeling that communication isn't up to par, he'll stop the scene right away.

[mariacallous]

It’s very easy to laugh at those who earnestly demand to be taken seriously. This is especially true if they are deficient in the mitigating balms of humour and irony.

The Canadian professor Jordan Peterson evokes mirth for this very reason. The populist Right doesn’t like being laughed at and it likes even less to be sneered at by latte-swilling cultural ‘elites’. This was apparent in a piece I read this week about Peterson in The Critic which accused The Times of having a ‘strange fixation’ with the Canadian professor and of treating him with ‘condescension’. The article concluded that

‘Behind all of this lurks fear of the old media’s loss of status.’

I don’t think this observation is without merit. Traditional media gatekeepers (overwhelmingly privately educated) are gradually losing their ability to direct the public conversation as the cost of producing content goes down (as an example I don’t need to pitch this article to a legacy media gatekeeper in order for it to be published). It’s probably also true that some newspaper columnists do look down their noses with haughty contempt on the hoi polloi over at YouTube and here on Substack.

But the writer at The Critic confuses popularity with merit:

‘a freely available four-minute discussion online could barely muster a tenth of the views that Peterson’s three-hour paid lecture did.’

Moreover if Peterson is so popular, why worry what a failing legacy media is saying about him?

To state the obvious, just because something is popular it shouldn’t be beyond criticism. Much of Peterson’s output is silly, from his paranoid ramblings about ‘cultural Marxism’ to his ranting about the ‘tyranny’ of a paper towel dispenser to his claim that Britain is about to go communist under mild-mannered son of a tool maker Keir Starmer. Moreover, the man is utterly devoid of any sense of irony and regularly gets weepy during interviews (I dare somebody to watch this and conclude that he isn’t doing it at least some of the time for dramatic effect). Perhaps I’d find these tearful episodes more poignant if Peterson hadn’t sternly instructed readers of his bestselling book 12 Rules for Life to ‘Toughen Up, You Weasel’.

The thing to understand about Peterson and the wider populist Right is that they aren’t anti-elitists. They simply have their own pretensions to elite status and resent the fact that they aren’t treated with the prestige and reverence they believe they are entitled to. In the familiar populist tradition, they are the humiliated little men and women left behind by history. They are angry at not being invited to dinner at the big table and they just won’t take it anymore.

The French economist Thomas Piketty has written in the past about the ‘Brahmin Left’ and the ‘Merchant Right’ as a way of understanding political competition in contemporary society. Piketty makes four main arguments: 1. There has been a decline in class voting. 2. A wealthy ‘merchant class’ votes for Right-wing parties. 3. Educational voting has inverted, with educated voters increasingly voting for the Left. 4. All of this is feeding into a new division of globalists versus nativists*.

This argument has became more salient since Piketty first made it, at least as it pertains to social media. Something I find interesting about the so-called Merchant class is the way in which some of its members, despite being materially wealthy, strive for recognition from the same Brahmin cultural elites they publicly disdain. When that recognition isn’t forthcoming they seethe with resentment. People on the Left are frequently accused nowadays of adopting ‘luxury beliefs’ and ‘high status opinions’. I think this definitely happens; but it also smacks of projection because I don’t think any political faction is more obsessed with status than the insurgent online Right.

Elon Musk is a fitting example of this: a thin-skinned businessman who, despite being the richest man in the world, chafes bitterly at the fact that educated people scoff at his puerile frat-boy humour and culturally conservative politics. Again, here is somebody who possesses otherworldly riches yet his chief gripe is that this success isn’t reflected back at him by cultural elites, who regard him as a gauche figure of fun.

Notably one of the first things Musk did upon acquiring Twitter (apart from changing the name to X) was to get rid of legacy blue ticks, a status symbol of the online cultural elite. He was cheered to the rafters for doing this by the online Right, who immediately went out and purchased their own blue tick for $8 once Musk had made it possible to do so. Because it was never about being anti-elitist. It was a bunch of people whose pretensions to elite status were being thwarted by the old system.

Of course a blue tick is now cringe precisely because anybody can purchase it for pocket change and thus there is nothing ‘exclusive’ about it. Instead it demonstrates that you are probably trying a little too hard to look important, like the people who post photos on their Instagram grids of themselves standing next to Lamborghinis they’ve rented. Trying to look high status is low status.

Sartre once said that antisemites like to view themselves as part of an alternative intellectual elite. Conspiracy theorists - antisemitism is the ultimate conspiracy theory - are much the same, and alt-Right spaces nowadays are awash with a supercilious sense of unacknowledged intellectual superiority. They have ‘red pill awareness’ and wear t-shirts which say ‘they lied and you complied’ and have ‘pure blood’ because they didn’t get vaccinated.

Again, it’s usually the Left that is accused of being motivated by a ‘politics of envy’ - of wanting to cut down the tree because the apples are too high for them to reach. Yet today it is the Right that seeks to smash things up because late capitalism hasn’t turned out as they imagined it would. Everywhere you look today the ‘little guy’ is furiously railing against the system he has repeatedly voted for.

The row over companies pulling their ads from X/Twitter is an illuminating example of this latter point. People who have spent their adult lives arguing that capitalism is good and benevolent and that corporations can do as they please are aghast because big companies don’t want their ads appearing next to tweets by neo-Nazis. Musk and co know very well that it wasn’t ‘Left-wing censorship’ that resulted in people like Alex Jones (who was this week reinstated) being banned from Twitter. It was corporations not wanting their brands to be associated with extremists because it’s bad for business.

Something similar happened with YouTube during the so-called ‘Adpocalypse’ of 2017 when 250 brands pulled their advertising from the platform because it was appearing next to videos of hate preachers and fascists. The Adpocalypse resulted in a slew of policy changes at YouTube which made it easier for advertisers to select categories of videos they didn’t want their ads to appear alongside. A bunch of far-Right and manosphere channels subsequently found themselves demonetised. Predictably, the Right blamed political correctness and the Left for the adpocalypse, when again it was an example of corporations trying to protect their bottom line.

As I’ve pointed out previously, the contemporary Right has no coherent critique of consumer capitalism so instead it has to pretend that big corporations are secretly controlled by a cabal of ‘woke’ Marxists.

*Jan Rovny gives a good account of these changes over at the LSE page here.

[vigilskeep]

"Anyway, Hawke chose Anders over me, so they have to die." HARKER???? HARKER EXPLAIN HOMIE??? You can't put your rambles in the tags and expect us NOT to read them. Of course, we'll read them. This is the dissertation blog.

NOT IN LIKE A RELATIONSHIP WAY i mean during the last straw

i think the strength of sebastian’s reaction when he goes for his full wicked witch of the west monologue is due to a lot of things, and one of them is that it’s a very personal betrayal. elthina isn’t all sebastian has; elthina and hawke are all sebastian has. the codex for what he’s been doing since act 2 says, “sebastian was heard saying that he will not leave kirkwall as long as both the champion and the grand cleric need him.” hawke is his closest friend and ally, and he is here in kirkwall to defend hawke and serve loyally at their side as much as he is here for the grand cleric. in the last straw, regardless of how else you think about the chantry explosion from other perspectives, hawke’s friend/lover murders the (both emotionally and religiously) most important person in sebastian’s life and destroys his home (also the central religious building of his faith).

keir, who with the loss of elthina is the most important person in sebastian’s life left, stands by anders after he does that. that’s bad enough for sebastian even if his life hadn’t already been turned upside down before by his family being murdered and the murderers going unpunished while all his family’s supposed allies did nothing. (it’s also part of my canon that sebastian and keir became close friends in the aftermath of all that remains, because sebastian could relate to that specific grief, which adds a fresh layer of unimaginable hurt to keir still loving and protecting elthina’s murderer.) when everything in sebastian’s life suddenly goes to hell, keir abandons him and chooses anders, and the personal nature of that betrayal is very present imo. they don’t put “your precious anders!” in that speech for nothing

i do think that sebastian already having spent years struggling with his commitment to his chantry vows while his closest friend is just right there all the time in a committed publicly affectionate relationship exacerbates that in a lot of ways. sebastian’s very uncertain about what is right and what might or might not be a corrupting influence. his discomfort with anders further muddies the issue; in act 3 he’s suspicious of anders’ plans, and tells a hawke romancing anders that they should be careful of him because anders is a dangerous and selfish man. he also tries to get anders to rethink rebellion in party banter, because for hawke’s sake it matters if anything happens to anders. i think it would be weird if all of the complexity of how he feels abt their relationship—and a degree of envy for that relationship, i think, whether that’s for the idea of relationships and physical affection and whatnot in general, or possibly conflated with some never-articulated-even-in-his-own-head feelings for hawke in particular that come with the intensity of his loyalty—didn’t feed into how sebastian responds to the last straw

[writingmaidenwarrior]

Rebellious Souls

Imagine a world where reincarnation exists, and not only this, a world where science found a way to give you the memories of your past life.

This is the world Amren, Keir and Màiren live in. Once you turned 25 or finished your education, you will get invited within the next years by the ministry of the Mist of the Souls, the official government department for all things reincarnation.

The three of them have a good life as a thruple with Keir being a famous composer, Amren a young politician who gets handled as future new head of the counsel and Màiren working for the ministry of the Mist of the Souls which is a prestigious job.

Things change after the day of memories. It was already weird that all three got invited on the same day, and it only went downhill from there when Amren and Keir realize they had been rivals in their past life. This wouldn't have been so bad if their past ego weren't great leaders under whose guidance the country thrived and the counsel hoped for them to be reincarnated soon to guide them out of the current crisis, and both are now forced to follow society's expectation and continue the path of their past life as political leaders and rivals for the sake of the country.

But they made the plan without Amren and Keir. After being together for years, the three of them come up with a dangerous plan. While the men will act as they do as expected and publicly break up, they will secretively continue their relationship and try to figure if Amren's doubts about the Ministry of Souls is just his pessimistic personality or more.

Soon they have to learn the plan was easier made than executed since working against the whole society and the memories of a different life in your head are way more difficult as expected and with Màiren being a so-called new soul with no past life, there is another mystery on the table that sets her on a path that could decide not only the fate of the relationship of the three of them but also the fate of the whole country.

Genre: alternative world, dystopic(?)

Themes: destiny, free will, family, men vs society, illusion of control

Target Audience: Adults

Trigger Warnings: to be added (I have no idea where this will go yet)

There is a good chance this will include smut scenes.

Amren, Keir and Màiren as Sims

STS Ask a Day of for the OCS STS Ask Filming Location inspiration Ask which OC is the most thoughtful one WBW Ask What kind of houses exist Ask about luxury items STS Ask Decoration style WBW Ask Differences between our world and the world of Rebellious Souls Ask about inspiration for the story and how society works STS Ask Educational shows for children Blorbo Blursday Ask What books the OCs read Blorbo Blursday Ask What would the OCs do with 1 Million Blorbo Blursday Ask What Oc would profit from modern medicamentation WBW Ask Heartwarming things in the story WBW Ask Supernatural things WBW Ask Common souvenirs OC Song Tag for Amren OC Name Meanings Blorbo Blursdays OCs at the movies WBW Ask Architecture in the world WBW Ask about Symbols WBW Ask How does the world sound STS Ask about the afterlife, underworld and those things Ramble about the dynamic change between Amren and Keir over the years Ask Have a OC gone from hero to villain or vice versa STS What minor detail change would change the story Ramble about Amren's scepticsim STS Ask What ice cream would they get One Song for every OC