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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Pluralistic: Leaving Twitter had no effect on NPR's traffic

I'm coming to Minneapolis! This Sunday (Oct 15): Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Monday (Oct 16): Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

Enshittification is the process by which a platform lures in and then captures end users (stage one), who serve as bait for business customers, who are also captured (stage two), whereupon the platform rug-pulls both groups and allocates all the value they generate and exchange to itself (stage three):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Enshittification isn't merely a form of rent-seeking – it is a uniquely digital phenomenon, because it relies on the inherent flexibility of digital systems. There are lots of intermediaries that want to extract surpluses from customers and suppliers – everyone from grocers to oil companies – but these can't be reconfigured in an eyeblink the that that purely digital services can.

A sleazy boss can hide their wage-theft with a bunch of confusing deductions to your paycheck. But when your boss is an app, it can engage in algorithmic wage discrimination, where your pay declines minutely every time you accept a job, but if you start to decline jobs, the app can raise the offer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

I call this process "twiddling": tech platforms are equipped with a million knobs on their back-ends, and platform operators can endlessly twiddle those knobs, altering the business logic from moment to moment, turning the system into an endlessly shifting quagmire where neither users nor business customers can ever be sure whether they're getting a fair deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Social media platforms are compulsive twiddlers. They use endless variation to lure in – and then lock in – publishers, with the goal of converting these standalone businesses into commodity suppliers who are dependent on the platform, who can then be charged rent to reach the users who asked to hear from them.

Facebook designed this playbook. First, it lured in end-users by promising them a good deal: "Unlike Myspace, which spies on you from asshole to appetite, Facebook is a privacy-respecting site that will never, ever spy on you. Simply sign up, tell us everyone who matters to you, and we'll populate a feed with everything they post for public consumption":

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

The users came, and locked themselves in: when people gather in social spaces, they inadvertently take one another hostage. You joined Facebook because you liked the people who were there, then others joined because they liked you. Facebook can now make life worse for all of you without losing your business. You might hate Facebook, but you like each other, and the collective action problem of deciding when and whether to go, and where you should go next, is so difficult to overcome, that you all stay in a place that's getting progressively worse.

Once its users were locked in, Facebook turned to advertisers and said, "Remember when we told these rubes we'd never spy on them? It was a lie. We spy on them with every hour that God sends, and we'll sell you access to that data in the form of dirt-cheap targeted ads."

Then Facebook went to the publishers and said, "Remember when we told these suckers that we'd only show them the things they asked to see? Total lie. Post short excerpts from your content and links back to your websites and we'll nonconsensually cram them into the eyeballs of people who never asked to see them. It's a free, high-value traffic funnel for your own site, bringing monetizable users right to your door."

Now, Facebook had to find a way to lock in those publishers. To do this, it had to twiddle. By tiny increments, Facebook deprioritized publishers' content, forcing them to make their excerpts grew progressively longer. As with gig workers, the digital flexibility of Facebook gave it lots of leeway here. Some publishers sensed the excerpts they were being asked to post were a substitute for visiting their sites – and not an enticement – and drew down their posting to Facebook.

When that happened, Facebook could twiddle in the publisher's favor, giving them broader distribution for shorter excerpts, then, once the publisher returned to the platform, Facebook drew down their traffic unless they started posting longer pieces. Twiddling lets platforms play users and business-customers like a fish on a line, giving them slack when they fight, then reeling them in when they tire.

Once Facebook converted a publisher to a commodity supplier to the platform, it reeled the publishers in. First, it deprioritized publishers' posts when they had links back to the publisher's site (under the pretext of policing "clickbait" and "malicious links"). Then, it stopped showing publishers' content to their own subscribers, extorting them to pay to "boost" their posts in order to reach people who had explicitly asked to hear from them.

For users, this meant that their feeds were increasingly populated with payola-boosted content from advertisers and pay-to-play publishers who paid Facebook's Danegeld to reach them. A user will only spend so much time on Facebook, and every post that Facebook feeds that user from someone they want to hear from is a missed opportunity to show them a post from someone who'll pay to reach them.

Here, too, twiddling lets Facebook fine-tune its approach. If a user starts to wean themself off Facebook, the algorithm (TM) can put more content the user has asked to see in the feed. When the user's participation returns to higher levels, Facebook can draw down the share of desirable content again, replacing it with monetizable content. This is done minutely, behind the scenes, automatically, and quickly. In any shell game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye.

This is the final stage of enshittification: withdrawing surpluses from end-users and business customers, leaving behind the minimum homeopathic quantum of value for each needed to keep them locked to the platform, generating value that can be extracted and diverted to platform shareholders.

But this is a brittle equilibrium to maintain. The difference between "God, I hate this place but I just can't leave it" and "Holy shit, this sucks, I'm outta here" is razor-thin. All it takes is one privacy scandal, one livestreamed mass-shooting, one whistleblower dump, and people bolt for the exits. This kicks off a death-spiral: as users and business customers leave, the platform's shareholders demand that they squeeze the remaining population harder to make up for the loss.

One reason this gambit worked so well is that it was a long con. Platform operators and their investors have been willing to throw away billions convincing end-users and business customers to lock themselves in until it was time for the pig-butchering to begin. They financed expensive forays into additional features and complementary products meant to increase user lock-in, raising the switching costs for users who were tempted to leave.

For example, Facebook's product manager for its "photos" product wrote to Mark Zuckerberg to lay out a strategy of enticing users into uploading valuable family photos to the platform in order to "make switching costs very high for users," who would have to throw away their precious memories as the price for leaving Facebook:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

The platforms' patience paid off. Their slow ratchets operated so subtly that we barely noticed the squeeze, and when we did, they relaxed the pressure until we were lulled back into complacency. Long cons require a lot of prefrontal cortex, the executive function to exercise patience and restraint.

Which brings me to Elon Musk, a man who seems to have been born without a prefrontal cortex, who has repeatedly and publicly demonstrated that he lacks any restraint, patience or planning. Elon Musk's prefrontal cortical deficit resulted in his being forced to buy Twitter, and his every action since has betrayed an even graver inability to stop tripping over his own dick.

Where Zuckerberg played enshittification as a long game, Musk is bent on speedrunning it. He doesn't slice his users up with a subtle scalpel, he hacks away at them with a hatchet.

Musk inaugurated his reign by nonconsensually flipping every user to an algorithmic feed which was crammed with ads and posts from "verified" users whose blue ticks verified solely that they had $8 ($11 for iOS users). Where Facebook deployed substantial effort to enticing users who tired of eyeball-cramming feed decay by temporarily improving their feeds, Musk's Twitter actually overrode users' choice to switch back to a chronological feed by repeatedly flipping them back to more monetizable, algorithmic feeds.

Then came the squeeze on publishers. Musk's Twitter rolled out a bewildering array of "verification" ticks, each priced higher than the last, and publishers who refused to pay found their subscribers taken hostage, with Twitter downranking or shadowbanning their content unless they paid.

(Musk also squeezed advertisers, keeping the same high prices but reducing the quality of the offer by killing programs that kept advertisers' content from being published along Holocaust denial and open calls for genocide.)

Today, Musk continues to squeeze advertisers, publishers and users, and his hamfisted enticements to make up for these depredations are spectacularly bad, and even illegal, like offering advertisers a new kind of ad that isn't associated with any Twitter account, can't be blocked, and is not labeled as an ad:

https://www.wired.com/story/xs-sneaky-new-ads-might-be-illegal/

Of course, Musk has a compulsive bullshitter's contempt for the press, so he has far fewer enticements for them to stay. Quite the reverse: first, Musk removed headlines from link previews, rendering posts by publishers that went to their own sites into stock-art enigmas that generated no traffic:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/oct/05/x-twitter-strips-headlines-new-links-why-elon-musk

Then he jumped straight to the end-stage of enshittification by announcing that he would shadowban any newsmedia posts with links to sites other than Twitter, "because there is less time spent if people click away." Publishers were advised to "post content in long form on this platform":

https://mamot.fr/@pluralistic/111183068362793821

Where a canny enshittifier would have gestured at a gaslighting explanation ("we're shadowbanning posts with links because they might be malicious"), Musk busts out the motto of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal, pray I don't alter it any further."

All this has the effect of highlighting just how little residual value there is on the platform for publishers, and tempts them to bolt for the exits. Six months ago, NPR lost all patience with Musk's shenanigans, and quit the service. Half a year later, they've revealed how low the switching cost for a major news outlet that leaves Twitter really are: NPR's traffic, post-Twitter, has declined by less than a single percentage point:

https://niemanreports.org/articles/npr-twitter-musk/

NPR's Twitter accounts had 8.7 million followers, but even six months ago, Musk's enshittification speedrun had drawn down NPR's ability to reach those users to a negligible level. The 8.7 million number was an illusion, a shell game Musk played on publishers like NPR in a bid to get them to buy a five-figure iridium checkmark or even a six-figure titanium one.

On Twitter, the true number of followers you have is effectively zero – not because Twitter users haven't explicitly instructed the service to show them your posts, but because every post in their feeds that they want to see is a post that no one can be charged to show them.

I've experienced this myself. Three and a half years ago, I left Boing Boing and started pluralistic.net, my cross-platform, open access, surveillance-free, daily newsletter and blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/drei-drei-drei/#now-we-are-three

Boing Boing had the good fortune to have attracted a sizable audience before the advent of siloed platforms, and a large portion of that audience came to the site directly, rather than following us on social media. I knew that, starting a new platform from scratch, I wouldn't have that luxury. My audience would come from social media, and it would be up to me to convert readers into people who followed me on platforms I controlled – where neither they nor I could be held to ransom.

I embraced a strategy called POSSE: Post Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere. With POSSE, the permalink and native habitat for your material is a site you control (in my case, a WordPress blog with all the telemetry, logging and surveillance disabled). Then you repost that content to other platforms – mostly social media – with links back to your own site:

https://indieweb.org/POSSE

There are a lot of automated tools to help you with this, but the platforms have gone to great lengths to break or neuter them. Musk's attack on Twitter's legendarily flexible and powerful API killed every automation tool that might help with this. I was lucky enough to have a reader – Loren Kohnfelder – who coded me some python scripts that automate much of the process, but POSSE remains a very labor-intensive and error-prone methodology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

And of all the feeds I produce – email, RSS, Discourse, Medium, Tumblr, Mastodon – none is as labor-intensive as Twitter's. It is an unforgiving medium to begin with, and Musk's drawdown of engineering support has made it wildly unreliable. Many's the time I've set up 20+ posts in a thread, only to have the browser tab reload itself and wipe out all my work.

But I stuck with Twitter, because I have a half-million followers, and to the extent that I reach them there, I can hope that they will follow the permalinks to Pluralistic proper and switch over to RSS, or email, or a daily visit to the blog.

But with each day, the case for using Twitter grows weaker. I get ten times as many replies and reposts on Mastodon, though my Mastodon follower count is a tenth the size of my (increasingly hypothetical) Twitter audience.

All this raises the question of what can or should be done about Twitter. One possible regulatory response would be to impose an "End-To-End" rule on the service, requiring that Twitter deliver posts from willing senders to willing receivers without interfering in them. End-To-end is the bedrock of the internet (one of its incarnations is Net Neutrality) and it's a proven counterenshittificatory force:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Despite what you may have heard, "freedom of reach" is freedom of speech: when a platform interposes itself between willing speakers and their willing audiences, it arrogates to itself the power to control what we're allowed to say and who is allowed to hear us:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

We have a wide variety of tools to make a rule like this stick. For one thing, Musk's Twitter has violated innumerable laws and consent decrees in the US, Canada and the EU, which creates a space for regulators to impose "conduct remedies" on the company.

But there's also existing regulatory authorities, like the FTC's Section Five powers, which enable the agency to act against companies that engage in "unfair and deceptive" acts. When Twitter asks you who you want to hear from, then refuses to deliver their posts to you unless they pay a bribe, that's both "unfair and deceptive":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But that's only a stopgap. The problem with Twitter isn't that this important service is run by the wrong mercurial, mediocre billionaire: it's that hundreds of millions of people are at the mercy of any foolish corporate leader. While there's a short-term case for improving the platforms, our long-term strategy should be evacuating them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

To make that a reality, we could also impose a "Right To Exit" on the platforms. This would be an interoperability rule that would require Twitter to adopt Mastodon's approach to server-hopping: click a link to export the list of everyone who follows you on one server, click another link to upload that file to another server, and all your followers and followees are relocated to your new digs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

A Twitter with the Right To Exit would exert a powerful discipline even on the stunted self-regulatory centers of Elon Musk's brain. If he banned a reporter for publishing truthful coverage that cast him in a bad light, that reporter would have the legal right to move to another platform, and continue to reach the people who follow them on Twitter. Publishers aghast at having the headlines removed from their Twitter posts could go somewhere less slipshod and still reach the people who want to hear from them on Twitter.

And both Right To Exit and End-To-End satisfy the two prime tests for sound internet regulation: first, they are easy to administer. If you want to know whether Musk is permitting harassment on his platform, you have to agree on a definition of harassment, determine whether a given act meets that definition, and then investigate whether Twitter took reasonable steps to prevent it.

By contrast, administering End-To-End merely requires that you post something and see if your followers receive it. Administering Right To Exit is as simple as saying, "OK, Twitter, I know you say you gave Cory his follower and followee file, but he says he never got it. Just send him another copy, and this time, CC the regulator so we can verify that it arrived."

Beyond administration, there's the cost of compliance. Requiring Twitter to police its users' conduct also requires it to hire an army of moderators – something that Elon Musk might be able to afford, but community-supported, small federated servers couldn't. A tech regulation can easily become a barrier to entry, blocking better competitors who might replace the company whose conduct spurred the regulation in the first place.

End-to-End does not present this kind of barrier. The default state for a social media platform is to deliver posts from accounts to their followers. Interfering with End-To-End costs more than delivering the messages users want to have. Likewise, a Right To Exit is a solved problem, built into the open Mastodon protocol, itself built atop the open ActivityPub standard.

It's not just Twitter. Every platform is consuming itself in an orgy of enshittification. This is the Great Enshittening, a moment of universal, end-stage platform decay. As the platforms burn, calls to address the fires grow louder and harder for policymakers to resist. But not all solutions to platform decay are created equal. Some solutions will perversely enshrine the dominance of platforms, help make them both too big to fail and too big to jail.

Musk has flagrantly violated so many rules, laws and consent decrees that he has accidentally turned Twitter into the perfect starting point for a program of platform reform and platform evacuation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/14/freedom-of-reach/#ex

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: JD Lasica (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elon_Musk_%283018710552%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #twitter #posse #elon musk #x #social media #graceful failure modes #end-to-end principle #administratable remedies #good regulation #ads #privacy #benevolent dictatorships #freedom of reach #journalism #enshittification #switching costs

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dhaaruni · 7 months ago

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If you liked Bridgerton, here are other historical romances with the same tropes:

Virgin-Meets-Rake (Season 1, Simon and Daphne):

When the Duke was Wicked by Lorraine Heath: She's a witty debutante who's the jewel of the season, he's a seasoned rake mourning the death of his wife and child with excessive hedonism, and she recruits him to teach her how to attract a husband

The Lady Gets Lucky by Joanna Shupe: She's a shy heiress and master chef who struggles to talk to men, he's an irreverent scoundrel and would-be restaurant owner she recruits to teach her lessons to catch a husband

Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas: The villain in It Happened One Autumn enters a marriage-of-convenience with an heiress with a stutter (whose best friend he kidnapped, whoops) and at one point he goes, "I’m Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent. I can’t be celibate. Everyone knows that," and isn't being ironic.

Nine Rules to Break when Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean: She's on-the-shelf and deeply bored, he's a rake who's suddenly been given custody of his irreverent and wild teenage half-sister, she recruits him to help her be rebellious

Bound by Your Touch by Meredith Duran: He's a (seemingly) silly dandy, she's impossible to charm, and he shatters her facade

Enemies-To-Lovers** (Season 2, Anthony and Kate):

Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart by Sarah MacLean: She loves causing trouble, he totally hates getting her out of it, she's wild, he's starchy, and they fall madly in love

The Notorious Lord Knightly by Lorraine Heath: She's the viperous writer who's publishing explosive smut starring him, her former fiancé that jilted her at the alter, and they find each other again

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe: She's a free-spirited heiress whose reputation was ruined ages ago, he's a broke Duke looking for a wife to fill his coffers and fix his estate, they see each other for who they truly are

It Happened One Autumn (and its precursor Then Came You) by Lisa Kleypas: two iterations of the classic, "free spirited woman meets buttoned-up man who loathes her and is kind of a freak in the sheets" trope in the best way possible. Also, Alex buys Lily a bear in Then Came You, which obviously made me cry

All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue by Sophie Jordan: His best friend is her brother, and they really want to fuck but hate it

Notorious Pleasures by Elizabeth Hoyt: She's engaged to his brother, they meet when she walks in on him fucking another woman, HATES her for being perfect, she hates him for being a degenerate loser, and infidelity ensues.

** These are true enemies-to-lovers books, not that hella lame rivals-to-lovers shit that's all over contemporary romances of late

Friends-To-Lovers (Season 3, Colin and Penelope):

The Lady Hellion by Joanna Shupe: Sophia is trying to solve a mystery (and dresses up as a man in the process), and recruits her friend (and one-time kissing buddy) Lord Quint to teach her how to shoot. She's exasperating, he's charmed and there's a puppy involved.

The Countess Conspiracy by Courtney Milan: She's a genius botanist but can't share her research since she's a woman, and he's her public face but refuses to continue anymore. He's always been in love with her, she's as oblivious as they come.

My Fake Rake by Eva Leigh: She's a scientist, he's an anthropologist, they're longtime friends and she recruits him to help her make a visiting naturalist jealous but ends up falling for him herself

Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas: They're in a marriage of convenience, but end up becoming real friends in the process before they realize they're in love

The Duchess Hunt by Lorraine Heath: He's a Duke looking to get married, she's his secretary and most trusted friend, he recruits her to find him a wife and they fall madly in love in the process

Forever Your Rogue by Erin Langston: He's her brother's friend who is recruited to help her manage her estate when her husband dies. She flits around constantly in anxiety and never sits still, and he likes it.

This should get you started!

#book blogging #romance novels #book recs #Personal #bridgerton

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anantaru · 2 years ago

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˚✧⁎⁺˳ sfw alhaitham boyfriend headcanons

some sweet boyfriend hcs about the scribe since he’s finally getting released, enjoy everyone ૮꒰ྀི ´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

꒰ a/n ꒱ — some instances in this are inspired by a couple hcs i have written about him in the past!

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, gn! reader

+ ˚ matching rings

for alhaitham, having a sense of bond with his significant other aside from an— already exceptional, emotional connection, didn‘t seem like an item he would‘ve spend nor waste any time on.

though a while later, after one day when he had sauntered through the midst of sumeru city, his eyes had suddenly caught a glimpse of a glowing jewel on a small table, being sold by a vendor from another nation.

it wasn‘t until later when he realised that the ring had a little stone embedded into it which held onto your most favorable color, next to it a larger version of the same product, a little different, but still carrying on the same intensity of beauty.

in the end he decided to buy it for you both, there wasn‘t a specific day or a special occasion that alhaitham had waited for to gift you his little present.

in reality he one day, brought the small gift with him to meet you, at last showing it to you in his large hand, the glow of the radiant stone on top of the golden frame had taken in the grand total of your pure attention.

he was well aware that you liked it, it was clearly written all over your sweet expression, how your eyes had widened in mere seconds, fixed with a certain luminosity of being so utterly grateful to him.

slowly, he rolled the ring on its desired destination and it fit you perfectly, of course it did.

after all, it was him who had your love, had fully acquired it and if he would remember and dwell back on it, alhaitham surely didn‘t regret buying the little gold since it was now an element part of his love for you, you who was his priceless possession.

+ ˚ slow, lazy make out sessions and his love

with the freedom he had obtained due to his job as the akademiya‘s scribe, alhaitham could gather enough spare time for you both to share with each other.

the comfort he sought after a long day was forthwith found in your arms with his head snugly leaning into your warm chest, listlessly paying attention to the low thumps of your heart.

although the two of you would engage in conversation at first, carelessly rattling onto numerous topics that just so happened over the past few hours, it'd aways end with you both getting closer.

for some unexplained reason, alhaitham tried to justify the comfort that consumed him whenever his lips would touch yours. It might have to do something with the dopamine releasing in him, with it setting free euphoric sensations in both his body and soul.

you were so sweet, so soft and squishy when your breathing went a tone lower, worldly wise and at a standstill, you were both relaxing under your touches, the romantic atmosphere that gnawed itself into the air, your surroundings adapting a fire as he gently took your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, drawing you close just a bit more, a little.

there was no doubt that you have greatly helped him improve in the relationship department, not only with you sharing an intimate, romantic connection but as well as when it came to friendships in its complete glory, to illustrate further as indicated with his colleagues of the sumeru akademiya.

in this moment, you do not speak, neither of you.

it's those nanoseconds where alhaitham would be plagued by words or letters he wouldn't be the best person to speak them out loud, though in his mind, they ran freely and in tandem with his feelings.

i need you by my side, all eternity, i am better because of you, i love you unconditionally, all of you.

+ ˚ reading to you while cuddling

alhaitham had always preferred to stay in with you, to keep a low profile, in a finer way dedicating his time to you.

obviously, some of the books he had stored away in his home could become quite difficult for you to read and although sometimes— alhaitham would explain them to you in great detail, you will not understand a single syllable that was escaping that pretty mouth of his.

yet he was still trying for you and archons:

the way his bright eyes would carefully ghost over each page in concentration, or how he deciphered every definition in his brain, individually breaching out one and all meanings to gather the right one or how he was easily deducting the words with his cleverness.

to say he was cute while being surrounded by his thoughts was an understatement.

yes, it was apparent that as a result of some of the topics he'd try to make you understand, you'd end up falling asleep on top of him, more often than you'd actually prefer to do so.

It's not like you wanted to, also you didn't want alhaitham to feel like he was boring you to death because in truth it wasn't him who did— but the overly tedious subjects at hand specific books would display.

at this, he wouldn't fault you, at all.

meanwhile he had already pleasingly tucked a blanket over your resting frame, gently making sure you were extra comfortable while moving his body only as little as possible so he wouldn't accidentally stir you off your precious slumber.

as for how this day would end, well, alhaitham would continue to page through his book before at last, placing it onto the nightstand, dimming the lights before encircling you in his broad arms, compassionately positioning his head on top of yours and drifting off to a silent, secured doze next to you.

+ ˚ conclusion and alhaitham‘s ways of handling arguments

befitting of his character, alhaitham could become quite difficult to deal with when it came to arguments that would occur just as much as in any other relationship.

it was bound to happen and to him, it was mind numbing.

seldomly he would actively engage in an argument, which wasn't always the best route to take because it was important for both parties in a relationship to be open about their corresponding feelings and emotions.

deep trust was what had defined your relationship, since it was one, if not the most important factor. He was a great listener and once the situation had been properly calmed down alhaitham would appear to go through great lengths to make whatever seemed to had happened, right again.

however, he was quite uncomfortable whenever he witnessed you cry, unmistakably it wasn't in a belittling kind of way, rather did it too, push him into a soul destroying current, masticating him from the inside out.

it was a learning process, a wholly overtaxing one at that, but he did not seek perfection of you and neither did you.

to put it into a different perspective, in the end alhaitham— though it may not always seem this way, did whatever it required for you to be happy again.

he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him and he wanted, more so desired, to keep it that exact way.

to live a peaceful, tranquil life with his soulmate was something he, no matter what, fancied.

on top of that, he'd make it his top priority to be unconditionally transparent with you, not daring to hide any aspects of his life with you in order for this to work out until the very end.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader fluff #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact images

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olderthannetfic · 2 months ago

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Someone recently left a comment on one of my fics that they were disappointed I wasn't addressing any of the criticism or comments I got on Goodreads. After all, I reply to comments on the actual fic. Why am I ignoring the Goodreads commenters?

Well, 1. I didn't know there was a Goodreads page for my fanfic 2. I think if they wanted a reply they'd say it where I'm known to reply to every single comment without fail and 3. the kind of dumbass who treats 800k of free fanfics in a series like something they paid for is not the sort of person I want to engage with. If 800k of stories, with main stories, tie-ins, prequel asides, missing scenes, etc. for free wasn't to your liking, just... go read another? We have stories in this fandom whose whole series clock in at over a million words. We have stories where people have done fan songs and fanart and fancomics tying into their main work. We have stories with multiple timelines. You have so many options, all of them totally free and easy to access. If my stories, which I fully admit ares flawed and show some of my weaknesses as an author, don't do it for you, you have options. You have wonderful options.

If I had an editor and a publisher and my stories were actual books, I wouldn't have this reaction to this comment. But these stories have one person working on them total. I'm not making income off of this. This is what I write while working two jobs, for fun. As much as I do view writing fanfic as something that helps me learn the ins and outs of writing and put my all into it, it's going to be rougher than if I'd had help with it or had time to do more drafts than the three I normally do.

And if I was known for ducking criticism, I would get having comments on another site. There are authors in my fandom who delete anything that's not praise. But I have had long conversations with my haters in which I take everything in good faith and explain my writing choices, word choices and ideas. I have my tumblr which is just about my fandom stuff listed in the AN of every chapter. DMs are open and anon is on. My Dreamwidth account, also under the same name, also has DMs open. I have publicly stated when I have made shit narrative choices and owned that yes, sometimes I have genuinely dropped the ball. This has influenced later chapters where things go off of the original outline in order for the shit choice to have consequences in a way that makes sense and feels true to the characters in the story.

So "why are you hiding from the Goodreads commenters?!" feels like the most baffling thing I've ever been asked. I tried to be nice about it, but all I could think was, "why didn't the Goodreads commenters who wanted a reply post their comments where they know I 100% would've responded to it?"

Madness!

(Also, lol, half the pro shit with a lot of comments on Goodreads is barely edited. Maybe they were bitching about content? But if it was whining about craft, the bar is in the floor and they have nothing to complain about.)

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triluvial · 7 months ago

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Imagine being a freman captured by feyd and just as you’re on the cusp of stockholm syndrome he spits on you. To him he’s just degrading you but you see it as an honor he’s giving you his water…

oh I love this. I feel like to fall into this the Reader has to be primed for it.

Like the Fremen seem to live in fairly small groups (aside from the deep south) so if Reader came from a bigger family then their romantic options may be severely limited. Reader, feeling lonely and longing to leave their small settlement just to find romance would be a great start for this AU.

Then when Feyd captures her, she knows he's probably going to be tortured and killed or turned into a slave. She may have read books and heard stories of dark lovers being soft for their one true love but she's not an idiot, she's under no illusions this will happen to her.

But then the first few weeks pass and Reader is unharmed. She's not tortured or raped and doesn't even see the face of any person other than Feyd.

Feyd is likely thinking he'll keep Reader like an exotic pet - the last of her kind once he razes Arrakis to dust - as he torments her with news of Fremen death. (Paul's rebellion is taking way longer ig)

Unintentionally, he's training Reader bit by bit to be totally dependant on him. He brings her food and water when he visits every second day so the relief of hunger and thirst becomes inescapably entwined with Feyd's presence. As he is literally the only other person she sees, he becomes the only thing she can think about, the only thing she ever dreams about.

This is when the spitting scene occurs. It's a declaration of love. Reader's thrilled. She swallows. Feyd begins to spend more and more of his time just thinking about Reader because no one ever reacted that positively to him just behaving however he wanted (this would probably work best if the Harpies weren't allowed to come with him, were killed right after he arrived on Dune or never existed in the first place).

Childish dreams of an Out-Worlder sweeping Reader off her feet and away from her inescapable family and into a life of dramatic romance begin to be mapped onto Feyd's face as Reader spends most of her time alone in the darkness of her cell.

Until I'm thinking Gurney and some Fremen scouts break into the Arrakeen palace for an assassination attempt and while they're there, they free Reader against Paul's orders (Hey, she has a big family at least two of them are on the team). She's ok with leaving until she learns they want to assassinate Feyd. The Harkonnen tactics advanced so much upon his arrival they think they can win if they take him out. Reader knocks them out from behind. This is how Feyd find her. Surrounded by the unconscious bodies of her would-be rescuers.

I couldn't pick an ending here so here's both:

Feyd tests Reader by "accidentally" letting her take one of his swords. She uses it to kill the scouting team to protect him. He proposes with the idea of stringing her along and seeing what else he could make her do for him before locking her up again. However, the horror that his fiancée evokes in the Bene Gesserit makes him so happy he decides to drag it out longer. Then, she tells him about the deep-south holdouts and stops him from relaxing when all the northern Fremen are seemingly dead he has to keep her on his arm a little longer. Then she wins a sparring match against him so he has to keep her around until he can soundly beat her, take everything she can teach him and turn it against her. Before he knows it they've been engaged for a year and there's legitimate wedding planning happening. He still wouldn't call it love but it might be as close as he gets. Reader still loves it when he spits on her.

Feyd gets Reader to fake a break-out and helps her move the unconscious rescuers out a secret escape. When they wake up she claims Feyd found them but she killed him and dragged them all to freedom. She's his spy on the inside and with the confidence of Feyd's supposed assassination Paul and the other Fremen will be overconfident. This would probably culminate in Feyd winning the knife fight against Paul and then saying, "You did perfectly, sweetheart." And Reader bolting like an Olympian into his still bloody arms.

#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #original #asks #feyd x you #thank you so much for sharing your idea!#Hope i did OK!

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drdemonprince · 7 months ago

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people engage in a lot of magical thinking around the idea of "clout." "clout" as this continuously existing resource that can be expended on anything the clout-haver wants is a myth. you don't "have" clout, you make things people like or find interesting and they respond to it and that is the clout itself. a person with clout can't actively give that clout to another person by sharing a post for them or recommending their book or their album. they can give a boost to something that is already amazing on its own and help it find more appreciators, but they cant magically imbue something that isn't already good or interesting with any social cachet. most people who are repeatedly s-tier posters got that way for a reason. they might be total pieces of shit but they are good at posting. the audience and the followers and likes don't "belong" to the clout-haver, they dont do everything the poster says, they are their own people who form their own reactions to things and only consume a person's content because they are getting something out of it. usually that something is free posts they like looking at. and that's very hard to mobilize "liking looking at free posts" into any other action but consuming more posts.

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starrycassi · 3 months ago

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I think a lot of young queers folks (like me. Not trying to be all elderly about this I'm literally a gen z) today need to watch the good oldies about our community.

⚠️: I don't mean, in any way shape or form to insult the newer queer shows/movies. I love SPOP. I love TOH. I read and loved Heart stopper. However, because of the restraint of mainstream media, they have a very... palatable?? way to portray the community. I am NOT blaming the creators (who I'm sure would love to go a bit further down on their portrayals if given the option)

SO! I have nice recommendations that I, personally, enjoy a lot. They're in no particular order.

A classic, for starters. But I'm a cheerleader!: Very campy, barbie-y, funny and free on YouTube. A cheerleader is sent to a conversation camp when her social circle realizes that she might be into girls. (It has a very unrealistic portrayal of conversation camps, though. Very cartoony) my comfort movie fr fr

Priscilla, queen of the desert: A trio of drag queens travel across the desert on a big, old bus. They fight, there's some falling in love. They talk a lot about gender identity, queer childhoods and similar topics. I've only been able to find this one (and most of the ones on this list, since I don't have any streaming devices) on illegal websites. There's very, very direct homophobia, SA, physical abuse, child neglect, yk, the American dream. The queens are the funnier thing ever, the romance plotlines are absolutely delightful and well-rounded. Focuses a bit more on the community itself and interpersonal relationships. All around, a solid 10/10.

Kinky boots: A very prude, engaged man inherits a shoe fabric. He's running out of ideas to stay in business, until he meets a drag queen. Same warnings (and themes!) as the last one. This one has a stronger focus on how the characters become more accepting and how our queen navigates being faced with them. I've rewatched it like a hundred times.

The birdcage (2000's) or le cauge aux folles (1970'): A gay couple runs a drag club. Their son brings home a conservative girlfriend and her family. This is more comedy lenient, but funny as fuck nonetheless.

Paris is burning: this one is a documentary, btw. Focuses on the life of drag queens in the 80's. Nothing I didn't already say on Priscilla tbh.

Saving face: A chinese-american girl that lives in a VERY conservatory and secluded community is trying (and failing) not to fall in love with a ballerina. At the same time, her mother (a widow, how scandalous!) gets mysteriously pregnant and gets kicked out of their family home. This one will hit close to home if you're from any ethnic, homophobic household. Cried a lot. Then cried some more. Happy ending, though!

D.E.B.S: THIS IS THE FUNNIEST, CUTEST MOVIE EVER. It's a full on romance comedy for when the mind is a bit too tired! The main plot is that, in a school of girls being trained to be top-notch spies (very totally spies type) a girl who's the top of her class falls in love with the biggest villainess they ever faced. More of a coming of age thing, that also explores the good old dilemma of choosing what the hell you're supposed to do with your life once you turn 18 (relatable tbh)

And now, for a book (in Spanish, though) we have "Las Malas": Narrated by a trans, poor prostitute. Extremely realistic in its narrative voice, cruel and very hurtful sometimes. This is actually one of my favorite books ever, it's so fucking underrated that I'm going to die if no one reads it. There's EVERYTHING. It genuinely drives me crazy to read this. We have queer moms, a child found in a freezing park, suicides, literally anything happens. I love it.

If anyone has any suggestions PLEASE drop them. I'm begging u

#lgbt #but i'm a cheerleader #priscilla queen of the desert #kinky boots #the birdcage #movies #movie recommendations #idk #paris is burning #queer #lgbt movies

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chelseachilly · 1 year ago

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til you come back home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you really miss your boyfriend while he’s in the US for preseason, so you decide to give him a special surprise when he returns ;) warnings: smut, 18+ word count: 3.1k

author’s note: thanks for the request @a-little-bit-rascal ! also inspired by everyone (myself included) thirsting over all the ben content in preseason lmao. i hope this is something like what you had in mind ☺️ i’m not super experienced writing smut so bear with me but i hope people enjoy this, i have a couple more one-shots i’ll be working on in addition to the next chapter of this love. oh and the title is from i don’t wanna live forever by taylor & zayn

Not to be too dramatic, but you’re pretty sure the two weeks Ben is away in the US for the preseason tour are the longest of your life.

You’ve been with Ben for a little over a year now, and you’ve always found him incredibly attractive. From the moment you saw him at a mutual friend’s party, you were drawn to him. It only took you one drink to decide that you wanted to sleep with him, and two more to actually go for it.

You’re very grateful you didn’t ask him what he does for a living until after he shagged you in your friend’s guest room, as you may have chickened out if you knew he was a hotshot footballer. And also because Ben found it incredibly endearing when you complimented his toned body afterward and asked if he played any sports in his free time.

A few days later, when he finally used the number you gave him and called you up, you were somewhat expecting it to be a booty call. The sex had been great, for both of you, so you weren’t totally surprised by that. You were surprised when he asked you to go to dinner first.

The rest was history, as you found it to be just as easy to fall in love with Ben Chilwell as it was to fall into bed with him.

Your sex life has never wavered since that first date, except for when he’s been away for games or injured and under doctor’s orders not to engage in any physical activities - though he certainly still tried.

Even after all this time, Ben still has a power over you that no guy ever has, the ability to make you crumble with one look from his piercing eyes or the touch of his hand on your thigh.

Which is why it’s incredibly frustrating when he’s looking so fit and he’s thousands of miles away in stupid America.

He’s been looking particularly good recently, and you’re not sure if it’s his tan from the summer holiday, the way his hair has grown out a bit, the extra time he’s been putting in at the gym, or maybe even the confidence he’s getting back after a tough season. Regardless of what it is, it’s really making it challenging to be apart from him.

Every time the Chelsea Instagram posts a picture of him training or he FaceTimes you from his hotel room, you find it increasingly hard not to drop everything at work and just fly to the States immediately.

Watching him play in the match against Wrexham, when he scores a goal in the 94th minute wearing the captain’s arm brand and proceeds to tear off his shirt on live television, nearly makes you scream out of sheer frustration.

How dare your boyfriend be so hot when you can’t immediately have him?

By the time the tour is over and they’re set to return to London, you’re bursting at the seams with pent-up desire. They’re supposed to land in London around eight that evening, and the thought of waiting for him to get through customs, take the team bus to Cobham, then get an Uber to your flat feels torturous.

As soon as Ben texts you that they’re about to take off and that he‘ll be at yours by ten, you decide you can’t wait that long.

You know they’re flying into Stansted, so you whip out your laptop and your credit card and book a room at the nicest airport hotel you can find.

You’re not only eager to finally touch Ben and have your way with him after two long weeks apart, but also to show him how proud you are of him. Despite all the adversity he’s faced over the past couple of years, he’s going into the new season with a positive attitude. He’s not only playing well, he’s taking on more of a leadership role within the club and showing everyone just how crucial he is to their success.

So you’re determined to make your reunion romantic and special for him as well, taking the opportunity to treat your boyfriend before another intense season.

You head over to the hotel in advance to set up the room for him, pulling out all the stops - champagne, rose petals on the bed, candles. You have a romantic playlist ready filled with songs you both love. Ben has frequently shown his love for you with romantic gestures, whether it be whisking you to Paris for a weekend or surprising you with fancy dinners, so you’re excited to be returning the favour for a change.

As their arrival time approaches, you head over to the airport and wait for him.

It seems to take ages, but eventually you see some of the boys begin to trickle in and your heart thumps with anticipation.

A few of the guys who you know well stop to smile and say hello to you on their way to the bus, all clearly a bit surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N!” Reece says with a grin as he passes you. “Does Ben know you’re here?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” you say a bit sheepishly.

“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Reece chuckles. “Bro hasn’t shut up about you the entire time we were in the States-“

“Y/N?”

You look over Reece’s shoulder to see Ben standing there, luggage in hand, looking absolutely awestruck.

He’s wearing his club t-shirt and joggers, and his hair is a bit messy from napping on the plane. He looks adorable, especially his bright smile that only seems to be growing with every second that he looks at you.

You begin to run toward him on instinct and he barely has time to drop his bag before you’re throwing your arms around him and he’s catching you.

Ben’s arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the ground for a moment, spinning you around slightly with unbridled joy. It feels so good to be in his arms again, his warmth enveloping you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ben murmurs in your hair, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “How - I mean, why are you here? You didn’t have to pick me up from the airport.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” you say with a smile, pulling back to look at him and cup his face with both hands. “I missed you like crazy.”

Ben stares back at you for a moment, his eyes overflowing with affection, before leaning in to press a long overdue kiss to your lips. You sigh into the kiss and slide your fingers into his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Best surprise ever,” Ben murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss.

You continue to kiss him until you’re both out of air and you realize you can’t go any further in a busy airport surrounded by his teammates.

“Let’s go home,” Ben whispers, pecking your lips once more. “Did you drive?”

“Mhm, but I actually have another surprise for you,” you smirk, patting his cheek. “I got us a room at the Raddison across the street.” You lower your voice slightly. “So I can show you how much I missed you.”

Ben’s eyes light up as he realizes he’s going to get to have you a lot sooner than he thought, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“You’re amazing.”

Ben says goodbye to the boys, receiving a lot of knowing smirks and pats on the back before he hastily grabs his suitcase and your hand and begins to drag you away.

You both quickly make your way over to the hotel, holding hands tightly, filled with anticipation.

When you get to your room, you barely make it through the door before Ben is pushing up up against it and kissing you firmly, his bags discarded on the floor and his arms around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs against your mouth as you eagerly respond, your hands once again finding his fluffy hair and messing it up even more. “I missed this.”

“Imagine how I felt,” you say between kisses. “Having to watch you be all sexy on TV and you posting all those thirst traps on Insta-“

“Babe, they’re not thirst traps,” Ben defends, slipping his hand under your jumper so he can feel your bare skin.

“Well, it‘s still not fair for you to be looking so fit when I’m not able to have sex with you,” you whine, tugging at his shirt so he’ll get the message and take it off.

Once Ben has removed his shirt, you allow both your eyes and your hands to explore his toned shoulders and arms, gently squeezing his biceps.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says with a small smile as he watches you check him out. “What’s my punishment?”

“I’m not going to punish you,” you say with a sly smile, pecking his lips once more before backing away from him, making him pout a bit at the loss of contact. “You’re getting rewarded tonight, Benjamin.”

“For the wins?” Ben asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“That, and for finally getting your arse home to me,” you smile, reaching out a hand for him to follow you further into the room.

Ben eagerly follows, his eyes lighting up once again when he sees the effort you’ve gone to for your little reunion celebration.

“I get all this just for coming home?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining with awe.

You shake your head as you light a few of the candles and hit play on your Spotify, creating an even more romantic atmosphere.

“No, you get all this because I love you,” you say softly, shimmying out of the light sundress you were wearing to reveal his favourite black lingerie set. “This is what you get for coming home.“

Ben’s eyes darken and he wastes no time crossing the room to meet you, grabbing your waist and kissing you with such fervour that you immediately moan into his mouth.

His hands trail down to your butt and squeeze slightly before gripping your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and the friction making both of you sigh with pleasure.

He carries you over to the bed, the rose petals scattering as he lays you down and begins hastily removing his joggers. When he’s in only his boxers, he climbs over you and kisses you again.

The sight of him hovering over you, his strong arms holding him up and his fluffy hair in his forehead as he meets your gaze is enough to make you melt into the duvet, your centre already burning with desire.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathe as he begins to trail kisses over your neck and collarbone. “It’s up to you tonight.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Ben says in a gravelly whisper, making you throb even more for him. “Been too long.”

“Then do it,” you reply, bucking your hips upward, desperate for friction.

Ben doesn’t have to be told twice - he immediately brings one of his hands down to touch you over your underwear. He strokes the fabric for a second before slipping his fingers underneath and feeling your folds.

“So wet for me already, love,” Ben murmurs as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, making you moan.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away, and though you want him inside you more than anything right now, you can’t help but whine a bit.

“Patience, baby girl,” Ben says, stripping off your knickers and tossing them to the floor.

He abruptly sits up, pulling you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, and kissing you passionately. You can now feel his hardened cock through his briefs against your bare pussy and it’s becoming torturous to go another second without him inside you.

“Ben,” you breathe between kisses. “Need you.”

“I thought I was in charge?” Ben comments, reaching for your bra clasp and removing it in one swift movement.

“You are, but-“

You’re shut up quickly when Ben takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it teasingly, making your eyes shut tightly with pleasure.

You run your hands through his hair as he pays attention to your breasts that he so clearly missed, eventually trailing his kisses back up your chest and to your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, tugging at his hair a bit and exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Much less gently than before, Ben flips you over and presses you down against the bed, continuing to kiss you as he finally rids himself of his boxers.

Glancing down at you, now laid out on the comfortable mattress completely naked with your hair fanned out against the pillows, Ben takes a moment to catch his breath.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he exhales, dropping another kiss to your lips. “So beautiful.”

You blush a bit - of course Ben could find a way to fluster you with his words even as you’re moments away from him being inside you.

You kiss him once more before reaching down to take his length in your hand, and it’s already hardened enough that it only takes a few pumps of your hand before he’s fully erect for you.

He positions himself at your entrance and, despite both of your eagerness, waits for your small nod of confirmation as always before he sinks down into you.

You gasp and Ben lets out a low groan as he enters you fully, and he has to pause and hide his face in your neck for a moment to regain control before he begins thrusting into you.

You’re aware that two weeks isn’t that long, but it certainly feels like it’s been ages since you’ve done this. The two of you have a very healthy sex life, engaging in some kind of sexual activity nearly every day unless you’re both exhausted or Ben’s away for a game or something.

The pleasure begins to grow as Ben starts to pick up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, both of your sighs and groans mingling together.

“You feel so good, baby,” Ben says as he reaches up to tangle your fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” you sigh. “Had to get myself off after I watched you score that goal. Missed our tradition.”

It’s become a tradition since you’ve been together that you and Ben have celebratory sex after he scores a goal - as quickly as possible. Sometimes you have to wait until you get home, other times it’s happened in empty rooms at Stamford Bridge or even his car once.

“Fuck, so did I,” Ben groans, thrusting a bit harder this time and making you cry out. “Wasn’t as good, though. Nothing’s ever as good without you there.”

As Ben starts to go faster, you wrap your legs around his waist to shift the angle and get him as deep as possible, making both of you see stars as you’re approaching your climax.

“I wanna cum with you, baby,” Ben breathes, “are you close?”

“Mhm,” you manage to choke out as Ben’s cock hits a sensitive spot inside you.

Ben reaches down and lightly massages your clit with his thumb before thrusting into you once more.

The combination of him stimulating you and burying himself deep inside you makes you lose control, and you cry out his name as feel yourself coming all around him.

Ben is just moments behind you as he pushes into you one more time then crumbles with a low groan, collapsing on top of you.

You stroke his hair as you both come down from your climax, Ben pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.

“I love you so much,” Ben murmurs against your skin, sending a new wave of goosebumps across your body.

“I love you too, Ben,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

Eventually your bodies stop twitching with reverberated waves of pleasure and Ben gently pulls out of you, leaving you with a peck to the cheek as he quickly runs to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you both up.

After you’ve sorted yourselves, Ben climbs back under the covers and opens his arms wide for you to climb into. You happily curl up against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you, and you think you may have missed this almost as much as the sex.

“I hope you know you’ve set my expectations for coming home unreasonably high,” Ben jokes as he strokes your bare back with one hand. “I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport every time now.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you respond sincerely, kissing his chest a few times. “Have I mentioned I missed you?”

“Once or twice,” he laughs, tilting your chin up for another long, tender kiss that makes your toes curl and your heart soar. “I missed you too. I’m so glad we have tomorrow off. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s true, we still haven’t finished the new episodes of The Bear-“

“I meant sex, sweetheart, but that too,” Ben chuckles, “and loads of cuddles. It was so hard sleeping without you while I was gone.”

“I know,” you sigh, burrowing impossibly closer to him and his warmth. “My bed was too cold without you.”

You rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Ben’s embrace, before resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“You ready for round two already, darling?” Ben asks with a relaxed smile, brushing his nose against yours.

Without a reply, you slip out of his arms and walk over to pour each of you a glass of champagne, still fully unclothed. Ben’s eyes remain fixed to your body the entire time.

When you walk right past the bed, Ben whines a bit and you can already picture his puppy dog eyes before you turn back around to face him.

“Where are you going?” Ben complains.

“I need a shower,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. “You ready for part two of your reward?”

Ben’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he rushes to get out of bed comically fast, following you into the bathroom as you giggle at his excitement.

You realize later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower and he’s returned the favour back in bed, that you may have sent him the wrong message by rewarding him for driving you mad while he was gone, but oh well.

You’ve got a girls trip to Capri coming up in a few weeks, and you can think of a few ways to get your revenge.

thank you for reading!! also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for any future ben fics! 💕

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

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thickenmyblood · 9 months ago

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why did laurent start dating / having sex with maxime, even before nicaise found out? maybe this is something we find out in ch. 20, but throughout hiuh i’ve really struggled to understand or empathize with laurent in this area. you’ve mentioned him being self-destructive, or how it was good for his ego to bring a date in front of damen. but why did he feel the need to throw it in damen’s face when damen was the one who got dumped? why would he let maxime call him baby and walk all over his boundaries when this guy is a total stranger? i know some people have speculated that maxime is a uncle-stand in, but to me that doesn’t parallel bc there the abuse happened because laurent did (unfortunately) love and trust his uncle at the beginning, which enabled his uncle to abuse him. i’m honestly really trying to see where this sexual self-harm aspect of laurent comes from when it’s with a complete stranger who doesn’t seem to like laurent as a person or give him any real affection. he said sex was the foundation of their relationship, which seems odd for an ascetic person like laurent who even in hiuh canon doesn’t seem to have engaged in that kind of relationship before dating damen, when he was in a way worse physical and emotional state, unless i’m wrong.

i really, really hope this doesn’t come off as criticizing or accusatory in any way — it is your story and you can characterize laurent any way you want! to me it’s felt like this is the one area so far where laurent has been extremely defensive and refuses to take responsibility, even though it really hurt damen — not just being jealous, but being compared to maxime over and over again by laurent’s friends and implicitly by laurent himself — not to mention how it hurt nicaise. yes, damen had flings, but he didn’t try to replace laurent after two months or ever shove it in laurent’s face. and yet it feels like damen over-apologizes for ever asking about maxime or suggesting laurent’s behavior was harmful. i don’t see how damen could get over this massive insecurity when laurent appears to ridicule or dismiss him for bringing it up, like with the condom conversation or the pet name issue.

feel free to ignore this message, but always appreciate hearing why you chose a particular characterization!

hello! i get this question every once in a while so i thought i'd answer it today since we're about to be done with the story. i didn't take it as an attack or anything and it's a very cool question!

but why did he feel the need to throw it in damen’s face when damen was the one who got dumped?

in a way, reading your ask, i think you answered some of these things yourself. why did he bring maxime to a bunch of events knowing damen would be there? because he wanted the upper hand, he wanted to be seen as having moved on (remember that he thinks damen has moved on, too), because it's an ego thing. but why do it if he was the one who dumped damen? same answers, but i'd add that it's implied in the story that laurent was surprised and hurt by how easily damen went along with the break up. laurent brings it up, says he can't do it anymore, and damen just goes to work and never comes back. once again, in a toxic and insecure way, there was a part of laurent that wanted damen to fight for it, to say "wait, let's turn things around" or something. obviously, that didn't happen, and laurent interpreted that as confirmation of a lot of negative thoughts he was already dealing with (damen wants out of this but he doesn't know how to do it, damen's too "nice" to say that he wants out, damen is looking for excuses to start arguments bc he's trying to get me to end this, etc.)

this is not me justifying laurent in any way. was it childish and immature to bring maxime to events bc he knew damen would be there and he wanted, along with all the reasons listed above, to make damen jealous? yes, probably. is it petty? yes. is it ooc? i don't know. i think laurent does exhibit some pettiness in the books.

why would he let maxime call him baby and walk all over his boundaries when this guy is a total stranger? i know some people have speculated that maxime is a uncle-stand in, but to me that doesn’t parallel bc there the abuse happened because laurent did (unfortunately) love and trust his uncle at the beginning, which enabled his uncle to abuse him. i’m honestly really trying to see where this sexual self-harm aspect of laurent comes from when it’s with a complete stranger who doesn’t seem to like laurent as a person or give him any real affection.

this part of the question is a bit more complicated for me to explain. i 100% agree with people's complaints that in this aspect hiuh laurent is ooc (compared to canon laurent). in the books, he doesn't sleep with anyone but damen, so everything regarding laurent/other men is always going to be ooc in some way (unless it's non con, i suppose).

maxime has to be a stranger. maxime has to be someone laurent doesn't care about, doesn't value, doesn't respect. it would never work between them if maxime was not a stranger, which is ultimately what happens in the fic (let's, for a second, ignore the fact that they also don't work out bc lamen are in love lol). when maxime wants more, laurent cuts him out.

why does he have to be a stranger? because hiuh laurent's biggest issue in this story is that he can't be vulnerable enough to be loved and accept that love. he loved damen, but he couldn't get to a level of vulnerability that allowed him to explain himself, to show himself to damen as he really is, and without that a relationship can't last. when you feel like you have to hide parts of yourself from the person you love, eventually that turns into resentment and anger and hurt.

when he starts sleeping with maxime, he's not looking for another boyfriend. he's not looking for love. he's not sleeping with maxime because he's too horny to function either. he lets maxime fuck him because there is something to prove. and here I have to apologize because to me this detail was so clear during my writing process that I'm only now realizing I did not do a good enough job of integrating it EXPLICITLY into the story. what is there to prove? laurent has only ever slept with two people in his life and only damen was a pleasurable, consensual situation. so, here's the setting: laurent and damen break up, they go no contact, months pass, laurent is STRUGGLING (nicaise mentions this time and time and time again in the fic), laurent has no way of knowing that damen is also miserable, laurent has no way of knowing that damen hasn't moved on (damen is, actually, at this point in time, fucking other people). laurent isn't looking for love or dates or romance, but then maxime shows up and he gives laurent an opportunity to prove to himself several things:

he has effectively moved on from damen (in his mind, having sex with other people = the ultimate 'i'm done with damen" move)

he is in control. he has only had consensual sex with one person in his life, which gives damen symbolic power over him in a weird, fucked up way. or... maybe the word isn't power, but status. damen has a status in laurent's mind and memories because he's the first person laurent CHOSE to have sex with, the first person he loved and showed him it could be good, etc. as long as damen maintains that status, laurent will never stop thinking about him, will never have anything to compare damen to and say "see, it wasn't that big of a deal". which brings me to...

he wants to minimize damen. he wants dismiss what damen meant to him, what their entire relationship meant, so it can be easier to move on. how do you move on if you're thinking "oh I broke up with the love of my life lol"? laurent needs to tell himself what he had with damen wasn't unique, wasn't that special. he can have it again (the SEXUAL part).

needless to say, this fails. he has sex with maxime and finds that it's nothing like it was with damen because it's WORSE, because having sex with damen was having sex with someone who knew him and loved him and respected him. laurent has sex with maxime but he's still thinking about damen, he's still in love with damen, the same way damen is having sex with kyra or trying to date iris while thinking and missing laurent.

once this realization sort of sinks in (yes, he can have sex with other people, yet that doesn't erase damen's status in his brain bc damen was special for a bunch of reasons I'm not gonna type in here - THEY'RE IN LOVE, YOUR HONOR) that's when the self-harm comes into the picture. (this is discussed a bit in ch20 so SPOILERS but)

what kind of sex are maxime and laurent having? it's not the slow, gentle, love making stuff damen knows laurent was into. it's rough, it's degrading, it's not as pleasurable, it's a chore, it leaves marks. does laurent want those marks? we don't know. does maxime ask him if he does? we don't know. you can make it as non con as you want because the text doesn't go into detail.

the petnames. "why does laurent like it when maxime says it but not damen?" I don't think he does. he never gives damen a straight answer on this, but he does say that it makes him feel like a bimbo. it makes him feel slightly degraded. he says it wasn't terrible, but he never says he wanted it or that it was good. it's implied that damen tried it once or twice at the very beginning of their relationship, and I think we can all tell why laurent didn't like it back then with him either (bimbo feelings, laurent using him for money, the power imbalance, etc.)

uncle parallels. okay, this one's a bit tricky. yes, you're right to think that the abuse laurent's uncle subjected him to is nothing like his relationship with maxime for a plethora of reasons, but I think the narrative supports some people's opinions that maxime does resemble uncle in some ways (older, brunette, has a beard). i did not write maxime as a literal uncle stand in, so of course it's not going to be a perfect comparison. i wouldn't even call maxime and laurent's relationship abusive.

he said sex was the foundation of their relationship, which seems odd for an ascetic person like laurent who even in hiuh canon doesn’t seem to have engaged in that kind of relationship before dating damen, when he was in a way worse physical and emotional state, unless i’m wrong.

i tried to mirror canon in hiuh when it comes to laurent's... choices? in canon, damen is the first person he's with after his uncle because he's the only one laurent trusts. i don't have any doubts that canon laurent was terribly lonely and probably wanted to be loved waaaaay before damen came into the picture (post uncle, I mean) but his context and environment were so violent and dangerous that he couldn't let his guard down. similarly, in hiuh, laurent leaves his uncle's house without any money and in a very vulnerable position. he's not exactly carefree and happy and able to be like "oh I wanna date and fool around!! explore my sexuality!!!!" - in fact, this is a pretty big plot point in hiuh: laurent did contact damen out of pure necessity.

and yes, sex is the foundation of maxime/laurent for all the reasons I stated above, but at the same time it's not all about sex. it's not even about sex. it's about control and self-punishment. it's about self-hatred. we also don't know what state laurent was in when he started seeing maxime because we don't have his pov, but we do have nicaise's testimony. again, this is briefly mentioned in ch20, but it wasn't exactly pretty.

however, having said all of this, i'm not blind or dumb enough to think oh hiuh laurent is sooooo canon laurent, not a trace of ooc-ness. i get where the characterization issues are coming from. at the end of the day, I have to say that this post summarizes a tiny bit of what went into creating hiuh laurent. i tried to make him as canon as possible, but I'm not pacat and so my characterization is different. my setting is different. the modern au is different. it is completely fair to read hiuh and think as a reader "i would not have gone in this direction, i don't think laurent would ever be with someone who isn't damen, i don't think it's consistent with his canon self". i accept those comments in the same way i accept those that say they love this laurent bc of XYZ.

this is the one area so far where laurent has been extremely defensive and refuses to take responsibility, even though it really hurt damen

i understand this, but at the same time i don't know how much responsibility laurent can take over that when it's... just dating/fucking someone else after a break up. he should apologize for making damen feel bad on purpose (perhaps taking maxime places), but the rest of it... damen also fucked and thought about dating other people. the comparisons you mention were cruel, but they were made, for example, by characters like aimeric (removed from the narrative entirely later on) and ancel (who tells damen he was wrong, who tells damen he thinks laurent made a mistake letting him go).

i don’t see how damen could get over this massive insecurity when laurent appears to ridicule or dismiss him for bringing it up, like with the condom conversation or the pet name issue.

i understand that, but i also think damen's insecurity wasn't born just from this issue. he is an insecure person throughout the fic. his toxic masculinity is one way this insecurity and lack of self-confidence manifest, for example. his fixation on penetrative sex. his fixation on performance. his fixation on parenting like laurent because his own way is wrong. his fixation on never thinking about the things and people he lacks because he can't take it.

yes, laurent played a huge role in feeding that insecurity, but I'm failing to see where he is ridiculing damen. during the condom conversation, laurent snaps because he feels judged and attacked, not because he's making fun of damen's pain. during the pet name conversation, the same thing happens. and in both instances, damen is judging laurent. he judges laurent really harshly in other scenes, too, like when they find out about claude.

some of these issues are talked about in ch20, but I don't think there is a scene where laurent addresses everything. perhaps he should. i just didn't write it.

#anon #hiuh #ok so this got out of hand lol #hopefully this made sense?#i do think a few scenes in ch20 help us see that laurent is sorry and he says so but i dont know to what extent youll be satisfied with it #also i am working my ass off lmao im editing i promise i'm trying to finish it IM TRYING kjbsdkgbdskjgbkd it's just so long dudes #pray for me #pray for my ass bc im editing six hours a day #im so close to the end i can almost taste it #and YES FFS IT'S HAPPY stop doubting me #plot twist they dont end up together

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

Note

so, feel free totally ignore this if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but I can't stop thinking about a jace x reader fic where reader is sort of dealing with the aftermath of the battle of the gullet.

her and jacerys were involved romantically and when he dies, reader goes berserk and out for blood with the greens: she gets captured eventually and is left to rot in a cell in harrenhall or something, where she talks smack to aemond and reminisces about her time spent with jace...

idk maybe she breaks out and aemond falls in love with her in a reverse-stockholmly way?? it's more like he becomes obsessed and starts taunting her with Vhagar like he did with luke.

or maybe she ends up dying in the cell from exhaustion and all her untreated wounds (because there's no way canon book aemond would ever help the lover of an enemy lmao) and meets jace again in their weird version of westerosi heaven

idk i just need them both so bad lol

The Harshest Winters (!18+!)

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader, somewhat implied Aemond x Reader ??? it's just really fucked up, man;

Warnings: major character death, strong language, mentions of SA, some spoilers for Fire&Blood, book canon Aemond, blood and gore, psychological horror, manipulation, manhandling, mentions and descriptions of sex;

Author's Note: whiew, this was definitely something! Thank you so much for the request, Nonny - I loved diving into this one :") I hope that this is to your liking!!

Part 2 is out now!

She was sentenced to forever remember him by name only - Jacaerys' face would dim with time across her memory, leaving only a distant face in the back of her mind.

As she rots in the coldest pits of Harrenhal, (Y/N) remembers him, day after day and night after night.

"Promise me you'll come back alive." The girl hushed into the quiet war room. Her eyes scanned over the firelit table, traveling to Jace's sprawled out hands and broad form.

His eyes lit up. Brilliant brown hues, filled with so much love for her. His calloused fingers, still trailing over the waters of the Steptstones, that versed well into the Gullet.

"I promise." Jacaerys spoke to her, tone serious and somewhat strained. "My love..." He mused at the notice of her furrowed brows, and took three wide steps towards her.

As his hands reached for her, she leaned into his warm touch, so palpable and real.

The two hugged for what felt like an eternity. The Prince of Dragonstone kissed the crown of her head tenderly, his heart beating in a calming tune, that could have once lulled the woman into the deepest of sleeps.

"You've never lied to me before." She sniffed into his wide chest, pressing herself against him with renowed ferocity. "Do not let this be the first time."

Jace only smiled and cupped her jaw soothingly.

The nights without him were the toughest.

(Y/N) was irritated, on the verge of frenezy - the ghosts of her past played cruel jokes on her health of mind, making her see red before her - his face, whenever she closed her eyes to sleep.

In the three weeks that she spent in the prison cell, after having been captured and enslaved by Aemond, not once had she seen his face apart from their first fated meeting.

How stupid she was, drawing her sword to him, engaging him in a field of falling men.

How could she not see his flock of Green Loyalists, who suddenly came behind her back?

The heavy wound in her lower abdomen and the numbness of her left foot were all her fault. The puss that was dripping from her daft fingers, as well.

At least she had beat the shivers, she told herself insistently. But how long will it be, until she meets the Stranger due to her horrid wounds?

Left all alone, trapped well within those four walls of damp stone, the girl could do nothing but mumble and think to herself:

Aemond Targaryen had fought bravely, she had to at least give him that. Although she too would have had balls of steel atop a dragon - and one not even close to Vhagar's size.

He had granted her the courtesy of letting her die in the pains of cold and hunger - flesh eaten away by the ghastly infection, rotting to a point that had one's stomach churn and wail.

A small tear rolled from her shut eyes, and her jaw clenched tight - no one would come to rescue her, and it was clear as day that even the soldiers who came to guard her cell at night stopped bothering to show up. Perhaps the reek of death proved to be too much for them.

Perhaps they preferred to sit outside, and bask themselves in the fine light and smell of putrid ash.

Perhaps.

Slowly, yet surely, (Y/N) tried to sit up straight, but a blinding pain sent her right on her exposed back again. She hissed from the pressure that her inexperienced bandage applied on her closing wound, but relentlessly tired to get up again and again.

Eventually, she stilled as she got up on her right foot, and leaned into the wall for help in supporting her raw weight.

"Fucking shit, fucking assholes, fucking Greens, nasty cock-suckers, fucking die...!" She sobbed into the breached wall, gripping the stone edges with all her might and heaving out one pained breath after the other.

"I didn't know I was keeping a whore alive, in the stead of a respected Lady." A croaky, albeit mellow voice rang out.

(Y/N) could feel her knee wobble in fear.

She bit her tongue in an attempt to stop her snarl, and steadied herself with her hands still clinging to the wall.

"Kinslayer." She spoke in a brittle voice, and cursed herself for the undeniable softness that was laced in her tone - she was far too weakened to talk to him. And much less to fight once more.

Aemond's nostrils flared, in a weird concucsion of both anger and grief. His jaw tightened as his hand curled into a fist.

"Traitor." He grates out in retaliation, but lets a bemused expression to curl up his lips. His face narrows, and a flicker, a spark of fury dances in his remaining eye.

"You grace me with your presence, Prince Aemond. You really shouldn't have." (Y/N)'s eyes trail to the sword that rests upon his hip, and she can feel her blood turn cold once his feet carry him so awfully close to her defenseless form.

Her chest rises and falls in pent up frustration. Even if she tried to, she couldn't kill him now. But maybe she could gouge out his good eye.

Before her thoughts can come to a close, Aemond cruelly smirks to himself, and unsheats his sword to lower it to (Y/N)'s face. "It's a pity. You've never been a beauty, but now you're rendered to almost completely useless." He tuts lightly, turning her face with each languid movement of his sharp blade.

"I had in mind to let my men fuck you." He remarks dryly, but lets out a disappointed sigh. "But I don't think any of them would get it up to your whorish face."

His words startle the woman, and her eyes widen in disgust, as her throat tightens in and over itself.

"No... A look so wild and a grisly body such as this are better suited for dogs than men."

(Y/N) is shaking with fear and rage alike. She takes in a deep breath, and closes her eyes to listen.

He's bluffing. This is a test. This is a challenge. And either way, he has a sword. He could cut you up in a thousand little red ribbons of flesh if you uttered the wrong word.

The girl repeats the same mantra in her head, and swallows thickly. Soon, very soon he will get bored of taunting her.

But why? Why, why come now? Why pay her a visit after weeks of captivity?

He wants you to do something for him, in exchange for fresh air and a clean set of clothes, a small voice inside her head whispers to her.

Aemond hums wistfully and brings a hand to play with her house's crest, that rests atop her caved chest in a twisted necklace.

"You are Elmo Tully's only daughter." He asserts calmly, and reaches to twirl around her darkened strands of hair. "The Lord of Riverrun pledged his banners to that withered cunt because of you."

His eyebrows raised in mock surprise, and his sword came to a halt below her jaw. Attentively, he grazed her skin with the hilt of it, paying attention not to break in a single cut.

"But now... there's no reason for them to fight on her side, is it? You're ours to spare or kill, and your bastard lover boy is rotting in the sea."

His words sparked a fire inside the girl's soul. Without thinking, she took a step forward, and gripped her hand atop his over the hilt of the sword. In just a second, her free hand had found a way to his pale face.

The aftermath of the loud slap echoed throughout the dark room, and Aemond grabbed the lady by the hair, bringing her to her knees with a strong, downward pull.

"I will put a muzzle on you if you don't behave, tie you down and feed you to Vhagar, but not before I berate you in front of everyone still alive from the Twins to Harrenhal."

A small whimper escapes her lips, and the One Eyed prince gives her one last harsh tug, before freeing her dirty locks.

"Look at the mess you've made." He chastises with a click of his tongue, bringing his grimy hand to her face again. "You dirty fucking whore, I should make you lick me clean."

His furious stare melts into an amused one, and Aemond the Kinslayer laughs.

"I bet you would love that, wouldn't you?" He cooed while glancing down at her, forcing a finger into her resisting mouth. "You've been Jacaerys' slut for so long, haven't you? Wouldn't you like to be fucked by a real man, too?"

Aggravated by his running mouth and exherted by all her remaining patience, (Y/N) bit down on his fingers, hard, drawing a metallic taste in her mouth and a guttural groan from Aemond.

"I thank you for your gentle offer. But I heard you're already busy enough with that - fucking a bastard of your own in the darkness of these cursed halls."

The Targaryen prince clasped her by the arms tightly, pulling the girl up on her feet and snarling in her face.

"For that, I will give you your brothers' heads."

"Mayhaps they will give me yours."

Aemond's hands would leave her bruised. Of that much, she was certain.

Another permanent reminder of his abuse on her, she mused, letting out a pained sigh.

She grazed the bottom of her lower lip, immersed in deep thought.

Aemond wouldn't kill her. At least, not until the last of her purpose ran up. He might have had Harrenhal secured, but that meant little to his usurper brother and the capital, especially when the Reach provided them with no other allies.

Aegon's cause needed her. They desperately needed her alive, to strike up a deal with her sickly grandfather, and convert both houses Frey and Tully to their side.

Family.

Duty.

Honour.

Her grandfather would do anything to ensure her safety - that much was, again, for certain.

And if Aemond wanted to win this thing, he wouldn't touch a single hair on her delicate head - he couldn't afford to set off the Riverlords.

Having said that, (Y/N) wasn't surprised when the maesters came flooding in, or when her clothes were changed and her bed replaced.

What did surprise her were Aemond's visits - after their initial clash, he came by her cell more and more often.

Sometimes he would speak to her. Ask her about the gravity of her wounds, if she found the lack of light scary. If any soldier made to guard her had talked to her or made her uncomfortable.

Those were what (Y/N) grew to call his "good days".

Most of the time, Aemond would come to her well into the dead of night, scaring her and making her lose sleep for days at a time.

He would apologize with a small quirk of his head, and simply stare at her. Stare for what felt like hours, until he would hum, satisfied, and make his leave.

It was during one of those latter visits that (Y/N) finally spoke:

"Has my grandfather turned his banners? Did he send any lease for me?"

Her question, although innocent enough, angered Aemond. He rose to his feet, eye wide in ire, and he punched the wall of the prison cell - hard.

"From this day onward, you'll sleep in a chamber more fit for a Lady." He hoarsely muttered over his shoulder, as he made his way up the twisted set of stairs. "Soldiers will escort you tonight. Tomorrow, a maid will bathe you."

Although hid from her field of vision, the Tully girl heard how his footsteps came to a halt. The One Eyed Prince clasped his fists painfully, and gritted lowly:

"If you try to escape, you'll meet your end by the way of my blade, My Lady."

The night Lady Tully stepped outside of her prison cell was supposed to be one of the happiest of her entire life.

At the very least, the girl found the night sky to be of a comforting beauty - and the lack of sunrays would be good for her eyes, that got so used to the engulfing darkness of the Dungeons.

Still, she couldn't wait to see the sun.

... Her contentment was short lived - as soon as the smell of ash and blood had hit her nose, the girl almost collapsed.

No matter where she looked, she saw only the bites of fire. Where it spread - over the fertile lands she loved so well -, it left dust and cinder in it's wake.

Her home was ruined.

The fields she used to play in... gone.

The grief and anger replaced the sadness and despair. (Y/N) felt herself shake to the core, and, as she was dragged to the highest tower in the Harrenhal Keep, she swore to kill Aemond for what he'd done.

Yet, a much merrier resolve was going on back and forth in Aemond's chamber, who, after his interaction with (Y/N), was left very wanting and more than frustrated.

Alys was writhing beneath him, mewling in pleasure at his rough touch and merciless pace. Her dark hair was sprawled all over the goose feather pillows, covering her face and lustful stare.

"Mmhh, faster... faster!" She urged him with a breathless moan, moving her hips in unison with his, meeting his thrusts half-way.

Aemond groaned, holding her firmly by the nape of her neck, and closing his lilac eye tightly. His loins were begging for release - a release that was coming very hard to him.

Thoughts that disassociated him from what was happening at present surged through his mind: what he would have to do tomorrow, where he would have to take Vhagar.

Did (Y/N) reach her room yet?

The latter of them sent a pleasant shiver down his spine - with renewed vigour, Aemond pounded into the woman under him. He had found the lead towards his release, and he was not about to let it go.

Images of (y/h/c) replace the dark whisks of hair on Alys' head - her soft skin, her beautiful (y/e/c).

(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)...

His member twitches urgently inside of Alys, and Aemond continues to defile the Tully girl in his mind, imagining how her face would twist in pleasure as he slowly entered her.

He would be gentle. So, so gentle - he would make her into a babbling mess, so numb from bliss, that her legs would shake around him. He could be selfless with her, find his high only after he was satisfied with the orgasms he pulled from her.

Aemond moaned loudly once he felt Alys tighten around him, and soon spilled out his seed, panting wildly.

Finally, he opened up his eye, and felt the disgust and dissatisfaction that came after his mind-blowing release.

How could he, the Prince Protector of the Realm, think of his nephiew's lover during sex? That ugly, headstrong and frogish looking girl - making the Crown Prince lose his mind in want and lust.

Shit.

He had to see her.

He had to touch her.

He had to have her.

He craved to feel her - even if she were to slap him as she did months ago; he would take anything she gave him. And he would enjoy it tremendously.

Aemond sighed, still planted deep above Alys - he peeled himself from her lean arms, and rolled his shirt back and over his head. Next were his trousers, shoes and leather tunic.

"Where are you going, my love...?" Alys whispered, pressing her naked body on his working back.

Aemond hums expectantly, and turns his body to trap the woman in between the cold wall and his budging arms. He brings his hand out to caress her skin, toying with one of her breasts, until he pushes her roughly against the wall and pulls her by the hair.

"I told you not to call me that" He muses coldly, letting go of the fistful he grabbed mere seconds ago. "We talked about our arrangement, Alys." He tuts lightly, grazing her jaw with his long index finger.

Aemond sighs and lets go of the caged woman, as he straightens his back and begins walking towards the door.

"I want you on the bed, with your legs spread waiting for me. I won't be too long."

Curse Aemond and his meticulosity, the young lady chastised inside her head. The tower in which she was supposed to spend the rest of the war - or however long Aemond wished her to, really - was at the highest level possible. There was no way for her to jump out the window and survive the fall.

But, should there be a need for it... death by falling wasn't the worst of fates. If you managed to break your neck, that is.

A shuddering thought, (Y/N) scorned herself, and not one she could afford at the moment.

Jacaerys was dead - and part of her would be lost with him forever. Above all else, she wanted to feel his soft kiss again, his strong arms protecting her, his gentle caress that never failed to give her butterflies.

One day, she would find him again. One day, they'll reunite, and be back together - as the Gods intended to.

But that day was still far away.

She prayed her grandfather hadn't turned his banners against Rhaenyra's cause. She hoped that her family was safe, and that Riverrun didn't suffer the same fate the fields near Harrenhall had.

Jacaerys was dead. But above all else, she had to stay alive. Fulfil his wish, take care of both their families, until she could allow herself to rest.

Her shaky hand reached for her eyes. She had been crying.

The dirt on her cheeks must have washed away, leaving streaks of her paling skin to poke behind.

She would avenge him. She would avenge them all. Even if that was the last thing she ever did.

The brisk opening of her chamber door made the girl jump in place and turn rapidly on her heel.

Behind the oak aperture, a head of shoulder-lenght silver hair could be seen, followed by a pair of untrusting violet eyes.

"Didn't your mother teach you never to enter a lady's room without knocking first?"

The reprimantion left her lips before (Y/N) could catch herself.

She had to remember that no matter how much Aemond needed her, he was still quick to anger - a true prince of the Blood of the Dragon. Brazen, relentless, cruel.

She was a first daughter, yes. But a third child, coming after two strong boys, that hence secured the Tully line from before she was even born.

He was a man. She was a weakened woman. They were near a window at a plenty ample height, and even she had heard what happened to Queen Helaena.

His footsteps approached her slowly, like a predator would it's prey. It took everything inside the girl to stay put in place, fighting his empty stare with her own.

"It's cold outside." Is all Aemond said, before he strutted towards the open window and closed it back up again.

A myrriad of questions were on her mind. But 'Why are you here?' was replaying the most.

Her back was turned on Aemond. (Y/N) was frozen in place and, although she knew how dangerous it was not to look at him, she feared that a singular look of the man who played a part in killing the love of her life would be far too much.

Seconds turned to minutes. And minutes felt like they were turning to hours.

Before long, Aemond let out a low hum and grabbed a piece of her modest gown with two of his fingers.

"I'll have a nightgown be made for you tomorrow." The Targaryen prince concluded, gingerly letting go of her sleeve.

Without another word, he turned his body stiffly, and walked towards the doors that separated her from the outside world. As they closed and clicked with the turning of a key, the girl let out a relieved sigh, and quickly glanced upon the floor.

"Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit, you Gods' damned fucking asshole." She hissed in utter resentment, snarling at the place the one eyed prince once stood.

At least the promise of the morrow could bring forth a better day.

If she ever wanted freedom, she had to make Aemond trust her. But that was easier said than done. And it would take time.

So far, he had taken her outside twice - both times, during nighttime. To not be seen by anyone, and to be able to walk with the Prince without being perturbed or interrupted by keen eyes and weary mouths.

They walked in silence: neither knowledgeable enough in the other to know what to converse about.

And as they made their third and final round of the garden, the girl took in a deep breath, and whisked her skirts gently to one side.

Aemond, like all the other nights before that, escorted her himself back to her secluded chambers, but stopped abruptly at her door.

"Where is your bretheren?" Aemond demanded to the knight assigned to watch over (Y/N) coldly.

His body stiffened momentarily, until a muffled voice could be heard past his helmet. "He went outside to take a piss." Sensing Aemond's stillness at his words, he added hurriedly, "Your Grace."

Unconvinced, yet unwilling to press the matter further, Aemond hummed, and opened the door, to allow the woman to step inside.

Like all the other nights before that, he stepped inside as well, to stare at her and later leave himself to rest in his own right.

(Y/N)'s hands were tightened in fists, and the woman strutted to her bed to play with the silk bedding.

"Thank you for bringing me here. You're... so very kind." She forced herself to say the words that left such a bitter taste in her parted mouth.

For a while, Aemond seemed stunned. He felt his jaw clench in anticipation for her next words. His eyes trailed over her, mesmerised by her tempting form, so meek and small and perfect.

Had she always been so beautiful?

"Hmm." He purrs from deep inside his throat, unable to form any other sentence. His lilac orb being glossed over with something akin to fear and lust - how could such a lowly girl spark such a consuming feeling within him?

The tightness inside his trousers becomes unbearable, and Aemond can feel his palms gripping over his thighs.

"Well..." (Y/N) finally turns to face him, biting her inner cheek. "G... Good night, Prince Aemond."

He takes in a sudden breath, and has to restrain everything inside him not to walk towards her and take her over the mattress.

But she was still a Lady. And he had to be patient. There will be more than enough time for that, he told himself pleasingly.

Still, his cock twitched into the confining space, and the girl had to stop herself from gagging at the sight.

Men were really just mindless beasts, after all. Yet she had to at least be thankful - she now knew for certain she wasn't indifferent to him. There were worse things to be working with than lust.

Lust was better than ire. Lust was better than... nothing.

"Good night, Lady (Y/N)." Aemond's groggy voice echoed through the empty room.

Seemingly satisfied with what he told her, the Targaryen Prince shot her body one last hungry gaze, before leaving to hold her under lock and key.

A minute, maybe two pass, until the girl's body can relax into the soft bed. Her eyes go over the ceiling, and she starts recounting her steps.

A sudden click of armour alerts her of what is going on outside - she shifts and turns, eyes fully on the door.

Had Aemond come to her again?

Dread seeped into her veins. Had he come to rape her? Use her? Or perhaps he grew tired of playing host, and was ready to kill her.

Not sparing another second, she swiftly jumped back on her feet, and reached for a candle holder, clasping it tightly within her hand.

Her breathing accelerated, until... the shining helmet of the knight outside greeted her tentatively, instead of the terrifying white hair she'd grown accustomed to.

"My Lady!" He breathed out, relieved, and hurriedly showed her his face.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and hot drops of tears suddenly threatened to escape them.

"Ser... Ser Cain? Is that really you?"

"Aye, my Lady, in the flesh." He remarked happily, closing the door, before (Y/N) surprised him by running towards her sworn protector, with an embrace that could shatter stone.

"I thought you dead after the battle at Tumbletown...!" She hushed into his chest, swaying him from side to side.

"It should take them more than usurping bastards to kill me!" Cain Waters assured her. His body pulled away from hers, and he spoke back in a more serious tone. "I'm here on order of your father. I'll take you to a safe place. But we must leave now."

"How...?" The girl questioned hopelessly, "The Kinslayer is ruthless, and he keeps a close watch on every corner of the keep at all times."

"Not all the time." Cain offered her a reassuring squeeze, smirking slightly. "I have reason to believe he's occupied in his chambers right now."

His attitude turns somber, and he reveals a hood tucked in his breastplate. "Wear this, my Lady. I'll keep guard outside until you're ready - but be quick about it. We'll have plenty of time to talk after we're out of this horrid place."

(Y/N) didn't need to be told that twice - she made great haste dressing up, and, before she could realise it, she was running down the stairs with her heart hammering out of her chest.

She felt as though she was in a trance. Ser Cain knew the castle like the back of his hand - no doubt, her father had been planning her escape for a very long time -, and, by the will of the Gods, the two traveled unspotted to the burnt forest behind the Gates of Harrenhall.

"Our horses are tied here." Cain huffed at the heaviness of his armour. "My Lady, give me your hand."

He mounted the woman on a tiny black horse, and secured her belts in place. He then turned to his own mare, and ensured to tie their bridles together. Before long, both horses broke into a dizzying gallop.

Thus (Y/N) Tully and Cain Waters managed to get lost into the night, right from under Aemond's nose.

The rays of sunlight shone over Aemond's bare form, still entangled with the one of Alys Rivers.

His limbs felt heavy - though none of match to the uneasiness he felt in his heart.

Wordlessly, he peeled himself off the warm body that laid next to him, and dressed up to pay his cherished captive a morning visit.

His dull footsteps bounced in the echo of the war keep, as Aemond's marching came to an abrupt end.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Nothing, save to say for the unguarded door to the girl's chamber.

His blood ran cold, and his hand jerked open the entry to her resting place, only to find it... empty.

There is a scream from deep within that forces it's way from out of his chest. An anger so blinding, that it threatened to burn and extinguish any and all who would dare come his way.

Anger isn't a good look an anyone. But on Aemond One Eye, it looked downright terrifying.

A punch is thrown on the nearest wall to his trembling form. Then another. And another. And another.

Vhagar's mighty roar all but breaks the sky in two - and those who lived to tell the tale swore it echoed throughout all the Seven Kingdoms.

An exaggeration, no doubt, though not the most far fetched one in their bloody story.

The tearing skin of his knuckles lets a numbing feeling wash over Aemond. With his eyes upon the rattled fields, he lets out a low chuckle.

"I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of the Riverlands."

They say that everytime a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin.

#jacaerys strong #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys x reader #yandere aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #dark aemond #this one is really fucked up lolz #the harshest winters

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mostofthingsmostofthetime · 8 months ago

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My thoughts on The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie

I don’t know if I liked it as much as the original films (maybe Mockingjay 1 & 2 as they are pretty emotionally draining), but I still enjoyed it.

I think where it fell a little flat for me is 1. The beginning was a bit slow (tbh I only really started getting interested when Lucy Gray stuck that snake down that girl’s dress & even then I enjoyed the story more when the setting changed from the Capitol to the district) 2. I knew Snow would survive 3. I’d already been spoiled online for a lot of stuff that happens & 4. while I know the director did his best to make Snow as “likeable” as he could for as long as possible, even before he started getting “a little too comfortable” with killing & snitching I didn’t find him as sympathetic as Katniss or Peeta (but that is probably again down to the fact that I know what he goes onto do & there’s no real way around that), this made engaging with him difficult for me.

The world is fascinating. Getting to see all the new locations we never had access to before as well as old locations now in a totally different light (for example district 12 which, while still clearly suffering, seemed like such a bustling industrial town compared to how it is in Katniss’s time). It might have a much more retro aesthetic but there's also just a more vibrant, natural, wild & lawless atmosphere to this movie compared to the others in the franchise. The whole scope of the film just felt more cinematic then I remember the others being yet also weirdly intimate. Maybe because it was one contained story & we knew the main character’s fate from the start. I also loved the title cards signifying the start of each section of the story like from the books & wished they'd done something similar for the other films. It just added a certain flair to the whole thing. Almost gave it the vibe of a tragic play.

The costuming was great. The bright red of the academy uniforms. Flickerman’s snazzy suits. Snow’s dapper black & white outfit. Both peace keeper uniforms (despite one of them giving very ‘1930’s Germany’ vibes) looked great. Grandma might have been a bigot, but at least she was well dressed. Everything Dr Gaul wore (except the top that looked like a used tampon, lol) was exquisite. The main ladies of fashion, Tigris & Lucy Gray slayed. Our Future Capitol stylist looked like some regal yet exotic bird & Miss Survivor was giving Bohemian, country girl realness the entire time she was on screen. Even the extras were serving (like that random couple Snow walked past on his way to the reaping ceremony).

The music was amazing. Every song that played was fantastic (shout out to Olivia for her end credit contribution). The lyrics & instrumentation were beautiful & my god does Rachel Zegler have pipes! Anyone who says the singing scenes are cringy is just stupid like I’m sorry you can’t appreciate art. Also, the words ‘ballad’ & ‘songbirds’ are literally in the title. Plus, Lucy Gray is from the poorest district, so what exactly do those people want her to do in her free time? She can’t exactly hop on an X-box for a few hours. Not too mention that (as the offspring of someone who’s musically inclined) I can tell you, it’s completely realistic for a musician to use their craft to help them deal with trauma & Lucy Gray clearly had more than her fair share of that.

The Grandma'am helped to paint a sadly very realistic background for Snow. As who among us hasn’t met at least one delusional old person who thinks that their/their group’s suffering (regardless of the severity of it or the reason behind their former/newer status in society) means that no one else are deserving of even the tiniest shred of humanity & there are some people who are unlucky enough to not only be related to these people but be raised by them.

Hunter schafer as Tigris is clearly the superior Snow when it comes to things like empathy & overall mental stability but I do kind of wish they’d been more for her to do. Credit where credit is due though her & Tom did actually look like they could be related & I did buy their familial bond (which makes her appearance in Mockingjay so much sadder in hindsight).

Peter Dinklage as Casca Highbottom was a bit of a mix for me just due to his purpose as a character & the limit of film as a form of media. Like sure the audience know that Snow’s going to become an irredeemable monster in the end but without a window into his mind it really does just seem like the Dean is just out to get him & even when we find out why it seems kind of unfair. Like sure his dad sucked but haven’t the Games shown that blaming children for violence caused by others is unjust (& like ok he hates Coriolanus & probably the grandma but Tigris hadn’t done anything to deserve living in poverty, as she can’t control who she’s related to)? Plus, it felt like he could have at least tried taking Snow under his wing at some point to try to hinder Dr Gual’s influence. Saying all of that, though, Peter Dinklage is great at playing an addict with depression & the idea that some drunken rambling could lead to such long-lasting suffering is terrifying. Also its pretty realistic that living with that kind of guilt & in such a cruel environment for that long would make most people jaded & bitter, even if they did have good intentions.

Omg we finally get a Mayor family on screen & they’re assholes! Madge would be so disappointed 😭. It was interesting to see how harsh & overall “boot licky” the mayor & his family seemed compared to decades later, which makes sense as the war wasn’t that long ago for them so the dad probably felt more incentive to align himself with the Capitol as well as not feeling very connected to the district people as 12’s decline probably didn’t fully set in until they really started running low on coal & Snow became president (oh I just know he wanted to blow that district off the map 😆). I also wouldn’t put it past Billy to come up with some sob story of how he really does love Mayfair but wicked Lucy Gray is somehow preventing them from being together. Still no excuse to try to send her to her death twice in one week, though. Definitely not a girl’s girl.

Ok, so a liar. Cheat. Drunk & someone who hits women. Is there anything good about Billy Taupe? Also, trying to get your ex back, while your current girlfriend is literally standing right next to you? Dude, have some god damn back bone! You made a choice, now stick to it. Also, fumbling Lucy Gray, for a girl like that? What’s it like having no brains or taste? Well, too bad, coz you’re stuck with her forever now, lol.

Viola Davies, the actress that you are. What else is there to say? Dr Gaul is almost comic book levels of insane. Like she is how the Right see women in STEM, on crack! I don’t know what she did to get into character, but whatever it was, it worked.

Jason Schwartzman as Lucretius Flickerman is a very interesting addition to the story despite playing such a small & seemingly insignificant role. He is strange in how unthreatening he is while also extremely blasé about the abhorrent violence he witnesses that it’s as funny as it is disturbing. Making him come across as more human yet harsher than his son, who at least pretends to care about the tributes (in a very Capitol way, obviously but still). There’s also a polish & confidence to Tucci’s performance that I think Schwartzman did a great job of avoiding copying (despite knowing what audiences were probably expecting) because not only are their characters in entirely different stages of their careers but the whole ethos of the Hunger Games is different in Snow’s youth than it is in Katniss’s. Caesar is a well established presenter & during his time, the games have always been a success (minus the year with the tundra) that the entire Capitol is invested in & seemingly in support of. On the other hand Lucretius had the unique task of not only coming into a job like this with zero experience (I mean imagine going from announcing the weather to presenting the fucking hunger games) but also there were no vibes to try to emulate let alone guidelines to follow because he truly was the first person to do this. On top of that, the "event" his presenting has been panned for years as both boring & unethical. Schwartzman brought a slightly awkward, experimental, yet try hard vibe (like a comedian who's desperate to get a laugh) that I think worked wonderfully for the character.

Tom Blyth's performance was great & he was visually perfect for a young Snow (the power of a good wig! Who knew lol). Even having the cool, analytical stare of Donald Sutherland, down pat. While his appearance was very Eminem during his peacekeeping days, his realisation in the cabin and subsequent breakdown in the woods were crazy. There was so much tension between him & Rachel in that scene that for a second, it literally felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I could almost hear the record scratch for both of them, & all that building paranoia finally coming to a sudden crescendo in the way that it did? Pure cinema!

Josh Rivera, as Sejanus, was honestly a mix for me. Obviously, I agree with his morals, but his way of going about it did seem a little dumb. However I do think it’s pretty realistic that a teenager, especially a rich one, would be rather naive. Also I’ve heard that he’s smarter in the book & I think at times my frustration with him is more just down to the fact that I’m seeing him from Snow’s point of view. Meaning scenes that would be portrayed as noble in any other film instead come across as almost painfully inconvenient because the focus is always on how they affect Snow rather than the actual victims of the situation. Lastly, sorry, Snowjanus shippers, I just don’t see it (especially on Snow’s end), but whatever floats your boat.

Rachel Zegler played Lucy Gray with the perfect mix of natural charm & emotional vulnerability with clear pride in her culture & a refusal to let the world around her change who she is. Yet there was also an air of mystery & a subtle resilience to her that makes her potentially surviving out in the woods for years without being detected actually believable (though I don’t buy the theory that she went on to become president Coin). Definitely the highlight of the movie for me.

PS. I'd love to know what you think of my review in the comments/tags & am open to criticism (as long as it's respectful) just remember that I'm only talking about the movie so please don't reference anything spersific to the book.

#some other things i wanted to mention but didn’t seem significant to put in the review (+ it was getting rather long) are:#Clemensia you were so pretty & did not desserve to die #like who hasn't cheated on their homework a little #may my hair look as good as your's if i ever get bit by a snake #dill & wovey rest in peace my darlings #Lysistrata it wasn't your fault #Arachane you got what you deserved tbh #reaper you have my respect forever king #lumina really said kill um with kindness #no but sersiously i love you girl & your 1950's farm girl aesthetic #marcus you did not desserve that & sejanus is sorry & in my heart you guys meet up & become boyfriends in the afterlife #treech you didn't leave much of an impression but at least your hat was cool #bobbin my little germin looking boy #at least you gave Snow a good scare before your demise #coral looks gay like that's a lesbian right there #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes review #thg tbosas #thg tbosbas #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas review #tbosbas review #thg tbosas review #thg tbosbas review #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes review #southern gothic is my new fravriote genre #review

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bebx · 2 years ago

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“why do people ship character A with character B when they barely had any screen time together” is such a silly excuse to shit on other people’s interests when no one forces you to ship character A with character B to begin with. so you could’ve just ignored the ship if it wasn’t your thing instead of being a bitch about it. because 1.) the universe doesn’t revolve around you, not everybody is going to have the same opinions/preferences as you 2.) who tf cares how much screen time character A and B have together? shipping is never about how much screen time characters canonically have together when said characters are fictional and are never real to begin with. they could have zero screen time together, they could be in two entirely different fandoms, and people are still allowed to ship them. because the main point of shipping is not the Drama or the Fighting With Antis but the fun of it. people are allowed to engage in things that bring them joy when in fandoms; they’re allowed to ship, make fan art, write fanfics, create headcanons, or anything they want because what a stranger does with their life in their free time is none of your business. not liking a ship is totally fine, that’s your business. you can always ignore, block, mute things you don’t like. but going out of your way to be a total jerk just because complete strangers have different opinions about fictional characters in movies or books or tv shows is just insane.

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mermaidsirennikita · 7 months ago

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ARC REVIEW: Honey Cut by Sierra Simone

5/5. Releases 6/18/24.

vibes: WEAPONIZED LONGING, the perfect angst recipe, the man Lana Del Rey was singing about but much better, We Can't Discuss Our Feelings Because My Feelings Are Hard

Heat Index: 10/10

Isolde Laurence is in a bind (literally, at points). She's about to marry Mark Trevena (the cold, dangerous man who deflowered her and promptly crushed her heart) in an arrangement that will enable her to seduce him and offer his secrets to her uncle, a high-ranking cardinal. However, on her way to do so, she's fallen in love with Mark's romantic, pining bodyguard Tristan. And Tristan--who very much loves her back--is also in love with Mark, thanks to a preexisting whirlwind affair he put a stop to upon finding out about the engagement. Isolde is determined to, if nothing else, guard her heart against her new husband. And, for personal and practical reasons, honor the agreement they made years ago: once they exchange vows, they'll be faithful to each other.

Easier said than done.

But Isolde herself is deadlier than she seems, and in the midst of a thorny triangle, she may end up crushing not only Tristan's heart, but her own... and maybe even Mark's. If he has one.

Well, this was my most-anticipated release of the year, and BY GOD did it live up to expectations. This is an ongoing series (you must read Salt Kiss before starting this one, and in my opinion? You should ABSOLUTELY also read the prequel novella, Salt in the Wound, as it lays the groundwork for Mark and Isolde's relationship) and of course, I don't want to count chickens before they hatch, but... If Sierra pulls the ending off--which I totally believe she will; she's yet to let me down--this could end up being her best series yet. And that is a LOT coming from me, someone who worships at the altar of New Camelot (and Thornchapel, for that matter).

The thing about the way Sierra writes triads--and nobody does it better--is that they all feel unique. You might think that Mark, Isolde, and Tristan would have a lot in common with New Camelot's Ash, Greer, and Embry. They're MMF, they're based on Arthurian myth, these people literally know each other (Sierra: I owe you my life for that cameo). But the dynamic is completely different--and in this installment especially, quite darker. I didn't see Mark's darkness as much in Salt Kiss (Salt in the Wound... perhaps more so, which gives you some insight into the differences between his individual dynamics with Isolde versus Tristan) but here? Um. She portrayed the conflict within him and his ruthlessness perfectly... While also letting us even further into the vulnerability she hinted at in Salt Kiss.

Mark can be a difficult character for readers to humanize, I think, because we haven't had his POV yet. It's easy to sort of dismiss him as this frosty, stern alpha who doles out pain while also dealing with plenty of his own (on the inside, because Mark is clearly very uncomfortable with feeling a feeling). Where she makes it brilliant is through these moments of BOYISHNESS. We got sneak peeks of boyish Mark in Salt Kiss, but here? Oh my god. The grins, the poking at Tristan, the GOOFY HOT FACETIME SEX WITH ISOLDE??? It's so human, and dropping those sneak peeks in makes his pain even more palatable.

And the thing is that you do get that pain. Because Sierra also doesn't shy away from the agony of a love triangle and, yes, cheating in this book. I often find that MMF is used in a sort of like... "Why choose? Heehee it's all okay because everyone wants each other" get out of jail free card. Sierra really doesn't do that ever, but this is the hardest she's gone in on "these people are cheating, and it HURTS the person they're cheating on, and it HURTS them". No punches are pulled here. This is one of the angstiest books I've read, and as an angst hound, I loved every second of it.

The ending? I am going to be in actual PAIN until Bitter Burn (out early next year, SHIT). There was a moment in the last few pages of this book that made me gasp. In part because I really didn't think she'd go there on multiple levels. This is a book of huge swings, and for me, every single one worked.

Quick Takes:

--I have been very vocal about how much the one time Mark called Tristan "puppy" in a cut scene (Beg Me, which you should absolutely read if you can--I think it's on Sierra's website) has not left my head since. Guess what? It's just a regular nickname now. He says it SEVERAL times in this book, in prime moments. And I was extremely happy.

--You can for sure read this series on its own, but I will say that this book in particular "spoils" a good bit of New Camelot. In the same way that any romance in the same universe or series of standalones sort of spoils others, but if you want to read chronologically without any giveaways, you should read that series first. And in general, read it even if you do read Lyonesse first. Because it's gorgeous.

--I can't emphasize enough how happy Isolde and Mark's dirty Facetime calls made me. Like. At the end of the day, Mark is just like any other man with a hot young wife, desperately trying to get a peek over his phone. While someone else peeks, perhaps.

--Isolde's such a fantastic heroine. Broken and devoted to God and maybe lowkey a zealot, while also craving physical and emotional pain and release and Tristan's soft heart and Mark's cold one all at once. She's the kind of heroine we very rarely get to read about in romance. If I'm being honest, I was a little worried about how the dynamics would balance here, as so much of the last book was Mark and Tristan on their own, and then the remainder was Tristan and Isolde on their own. (Which is another reason why you should read Salt in the Wound first, in my opinion.) But God. The dynamic of the three, the dynamic between Mark and Isolde, just blew me away. Two black cats circling each other, Mark perhaps a little more reticent to open up to Isolde than Tristan because he recognizes something of himself in her.

While at the same time, I found that Tristan and Isolde's relationship deepened. I always fully believed in their agonized love for Mark, and their desire to stay loyal to him. Yet I also completely believed that they couldn't possibly stay away from each other, not permanently.

--Mark's backstory? I foresaw some surface level stuff, but not the parts that mattered. Those kind of blew my mind.

The Sex:

I mean, it's Sierra Simone, so it's creative and very much a part of the character development. One of the sex scenes in this book was so... it was really one of the best she's ever written. But also? DEVIOUS. Sierra, you did not have to do us like that. However, I'm glad you did.

There are so many different "flavors" of sex in this book--super kinky, kinda vanilla (or as vanilla as these people can get), happy, angsty, sad, passionate, light, funny.

You can expect, among other things: restraints, impact play, cum play, breeding, biting, public sex (a lot of that), car sex, edging, voyeurism, pain play, cum licking.......... all that shit. And more!

Look, dude. Read this book if you've read the other books. If you haven't read the other books, read those and then read this book. I can't recommend it enough. This is angsty, passionate, heady romance at its best. Hot and emotionally complex and well-written. Sierra's prose! It's what romance should be; she sets the pace, and we all must chase it.

Thanks to Candi Kane PR for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

#romance novel blogging #romance novels #book recs #arc reviews #books #book recommendations #book reviews

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