#but in this case it's like text book bullshit

[xanadontit]

D's husband/That Guy is still in ICU, holding steady. Not a ton of improvement, but he's still responsive and resting.

You know who isn't resting? D! Because her in-laws fucking suck! And have ditched her with two small kids while they just sit around at home but also seem to expect D to update and consult with them regarding his progress and care. Is this solely on her because she's his wife, or do you want to be involved? Pick a lane, assholes.

Please note: his parents are retired (his dad is a retired minister which totally tracks with his behavior) and in good health. They travel a ton, own several investment properties, and routinely provide childcare for their other grandchildren. D isn't asking them to cancel plans or ditch obligations. They just don't want to be there. What a luxury for them.

I cannot imagine as a parent that it's easy to see your child in that state. I'm sure there's a certain amount of denial/out of sight, out of mind that's possibly comforting to them. (Although I think my mom would have to be dragged away from me if I were the one in that bed but hey different strokes.) But then why not offer to help with school pick up and the evening routine? Help around the house? Something. Plus: wouldn't you want to be there when he opens his eyes? Have him hear your voice?

What really gets me is that they're reaching out to friends and family and asking for prayers and giving updates and getting all kinds of praise for being such devoted parents. Insane Owner is old friends with them and said they told her D has tons of people there to help so they feel comfortable leaving. When I spoke to D she said that yes, they get visitors on the weekends and some friends and cousins have been stepping up here and there during the week but these are all people with jobs and families of their own.

And then there's D's brother-in-law who took a video of That Guy giving a thumbs up (!) and then sent it to the entire extended family against D's explicit wishes. She told him it was fine to show his wife and kids but that due to how private That Guy is she'd like to respect that. What a dipshit.

I was telling Insane Owner that I might go up for a weekend visit soon and she said "I don't think that's necessary. It should only be family for now." Sure great plan except they're useless and straight up not there so might be time for chosen family to show up. I didn't tell Insane Owner that D told me the other night "This is why we chose you and E as back up guardians. I don't want any of these people raising my kids one day."

Anyway, super cool Christians as you can see. Absolutely classic.

[cryptotheism]

Has there ever been a famous occultist who then walked back on their statements? Like, put out an official treatise/book/speech saying essentially "I was wrong, my book was bullshit, here's why"? Presumably so, at least during the Catholic Church's height of power in Europe, but I'm sure you have specific examples if that's the case.

THAT'S LITERALLY HOW AGRIPPA ENDS THE THREE BOOKS OF OF OCCULT PHILOSOPHY

one of the most influential magical texts in all of human history ends with "Lol jk god is great"

[klipkillakai]

|pt 2|

humming the smooth melodies of jhené aiko’s music, you slowly walk down the aisles of the bookstore, picking up books and looking at the back reading the synopsis, this morning you woke up and decided you wanted to go to the mall..

usually you go with your bestie but she’s been in florida all week, so you decided to go by yourself, this was a little anxiety inducing but you went straight to your safe haven.. barnes and nobles.. where you can pick any escape you want

you decided you wanted to pick up some romance novels, it probably having to do with it being february and your new found crush but your gonna be delusional and pretend that’s not the case..

you think about him as you look through the books, you haven’t seen him at school all week and you feel worried? it’s odd because you wouldn’t have noticed before but now it’s different..

you haven’t attempted to text him out of fear, but you notice he hasn’t texted you either, it hurts a bit and deep down you can’t help but feel like it was too good to be true..

you shake the thoughts away and collect your books and head to the cashier..

connie silently follows the guards as they lead him out to intake, he’d been locked up the past few, some bullshit about a warrant.. he knew that was a lie.. he knew they needed to get him on something, but unfortunately for them he has one the best lawyers in the country..

he smiles when the guard roughly uncuffs him, muttering for him to get dressed.. the guards leave and immediately he shoves off the jumpsuit wrapped around his waist pulling on his cargos and tee he was last in, he opens the ziplock baggie with his phone in it, calling his employee, he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder and laces up his shoes

“sir?”

“im out, send the car”

connie hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket along with his keys and wallet and zips up his jacket, before pressing the button notifying he was done changing—

——————————————————————————

you hop off the bus, and start walking back to your house, you carry the few bags of things you bought and shiver at the bite of the cold

“oh nah” you whisper and start to walk a bit faster

a few blocks in you feel the urge to look behind you, you peep a hellcat going slow down the street but you don’t recognize it exactly, you think that’s odd so you keep walking silently keeping note, starting to feel paranoid you turn around again and it’s still following you.. not knowing what to do you keep walking faster until the car finally pulls up next to you and rolls down the window, you prepare to tell the whoever in the car off until you hear

“hey mama”

you stop dead in your tracks and turn to look at the man you’ve been thinking about this whole week

“connie?”

you walk closer to the car and he puts it in park and gets out, before leaning on the door, he smiles

“you missed me?”

wanting to say yes you shrug and say

“where you been? i haven’t seen you at school since last week”

he slowly slides his hands in his pockets and looks at you for a beat and says

“i was locked up, got pulled over on a warrant or sumn, but i got out quick because they had nothing to stand on”

you brows slightly furrow “jail? what kind of warrant did they say it was?”

connie slowly walks closer to you and, softly grabs the bags from your hand and nods towards his car..

“cmon, take a ride wit me real quick”

he goes around the other side of the car opening the door, before you slip inside, he places the bags on your lap and mutters a “seatbelt” and shuts the door quickly walking around to his side and looking around before slipping in the car, the car starts and plays loud drill music before he quickly turns it down and pulls off..

“you didn’t answer my question..” you say softly looking at him

his jaw ticks for a second and his thumb taps the wheel, “ion want you to worry about that aight?” he shoot’s a lazy look towards you..

“should i worry about it” he shakes his head no and you ask..

“is it gonna happen again?” he softly licks his lips and says “i’m gonna make sure it doesn’t”

you look in his eyes as he says that and you get the slightest flash of something sinister behind them, that erupts butterflies in your belly and you softly squeeze your thighs together

“okay” you whisper, and he looks at you again with a slight smile..

after 20 mins of driving you finally ask with a little laugh “where we going?” he pulls up to a parking garage entrance and pulls in before saying

“my crib” your heart skips a beat and, your feel yourself get a bit hot.. “oh” you whisper

“is that okay?” he asks with a teasing smile, pulling into a parking space, “yea i just didn’t expect that”

“don’t worry your safe, your always safe wit me”

you look up at him with a bright smile, and connie nearly wants to fall to his knees, he looks at the brightness in your eyes before it quickly lowers to your lips and he looks away, almost wanting to laugh at how smitten you’ve gotten him..

he opens your door, taking your hand and you walk away hearing the car lock, he leads you to an elevator, and he presses the fob to the button and presses the 10th floor..

you feel his thumb softly go back and forth on the back of your hand “you cold?” he says softly and you nod.. “i could tell when you were outside” he shrugs off his big carthartt jacket and drapes it over your shoulder.. the elevator dings and he pulls you into the hallways stopping at his apartment door, pulling out his keys, unlocking it and nodding you inside

you walk through the door looking around, it smells just like him, the fresh masculine smell, slightly twinged with weed, he kicks he shoes off and you do the same, pulling off your hot pink crocs and neatly placing them next to his shoes…

“so did you just get home today?”

“yea a few hours ago actually, i haven’t been home in a week, i fucking missed it” he pulls off his hoodie causing his shirt to lift under it and you catch a glimpse of his happy trail.. you want to scream because you find that so attractive but you look away fighting back a smile..

you walk further into the seemingly large apartment, looking around at the masculine decor, the black couches and large tv mounted on the wall, you slowly turn and notice a book shelf, you slowly walk towards it, hearing connie in the back opening a fridge.. you graze your fingers on the books about finance, stock investing… and your finger stops on a book about secret society’s.. you look back at connie before you keep scanning the books.. others filled law.. others about cars and guns…

“you like to read?” you ask connie

“that’s how i learn, knowledge is power” connie says as he stands behind you, slowly dragging his hand up your arm.. then slowly moving your braids to one side.. and dragging his lips up your neck inhaling your sent at the same time..

you let out a slow breath.. and you feel his large hands slowly press against your lower belly, and you feel heat slowly pool there..

“your so beautiful you know that?”

you softly smile.. “sometimes i don’t”

he softly pause before slowly turning your face towards his.. “i’m gonna ensure you do”

he looks in your eyes for a beat before letting your face go, “im gonna hop in the shower rq, then we’re gonna dip aight?”

you let a breath “mhm” you nod for reassurance and he smiles a bit before turning around and walking down the hall..

——————————————————————————

10 mins later you sitting on his couch tapping through stories.. you start to think about who connie is.. he got out of jail today and you still have yet to know what.. and.. and that phone call! the last time you were in the car together he told you the same thing “don’t worry about it” do you trust him enough to not worry about it? are you going to let curiosity kill the cat?

you hear the bathroom door open cutting your thoughts short, you look up at connie.. the towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets rolling down his abs.. gold chain dangling around his neck.. and his tattoos.. god you love his tattoos.. a snake winding around his arm.. a cross on the side of his neck and a large chest and back piece..

“i can feel you staring pretty girl”

you immediately look away feeling your body heat up from embarrassment.. he laughs a bit and shakes his head.. “it’s okay.. i stare too” you softly turn towards him and look in his eyes.. “i really like your tattoos”

“oh yeah?” “yeah” you whisper back shyly and he smiles at that, connie likes making you nervous.. he likes catching you stare and that little dazed look on your face..

“your gonna come wit me to pick sumn up, and we gon get food after or sumn aight?”

“you know.. you never ask.. you just tell” you say with a teasing smile..

“would you like me to ask? even if i knew the answer already”

“what makes you think i’ll say yes?”

“you haven’t said no yet..”

“maybe i will”

“well let me know when you decide to do that”

you roll your eyes and connie slightly smirks before walking into his room and changing clothes, he goes into his closet looking behind him before grabbing his piece and tucking it his pants, he covers it with his shirt and grabs a thick jacket and pulls on his timbs..

he sprays some of his cologne and slips on his rings and opens his nightstand and grabs his other phone slipping it in his pocket and leaving..

he walks out the room and sees you still patiently waiting on the couch, hearing your nails tap against the screen.. “cmon mama”

he watches your pretty head snap up, you quickly hop up, pulling up your pink sweatpants and rounding the couch walking towards him..

he grabs your hand and you walk out the door together, heading to the elevator and eventually ending up in the parking garage again, this time getting into a different car, he quickly pulls out, nodding to the security guard and pulling into the street..

he zooms pass other cars as he picks up his phone from the cup holder, calling someone..

he looks around before he turns, and starts to speak

“im pulling up, have it ready” soon after he pulls into a warehouse building, you hear his tires crackle against the the gravel and a man stands there holding a large black duffel bag, connie rolls down the window, dapping the man up before reaching down and opening his trunk, silently plopping the back the trunk and shutting it, without another word he begins to walk inside, connie pulls out the driveway pulling out into the street again..

you almost open your mouth to ask what’s in the bag but you choose not too, do you really want to know? do you need to know? it seems connie doesn’t think you do.. so you stay quiet..

connie softly looks over to you.. “whatchu want to eat?” you smile a bit thinking about it “mmm i dunno you pick” he shrugs and smiles “i don’t care about what i eat, i’ve been eating prison food for a week”

you think about it, and you smile getting an idea “let me cook for you” connie slightly pauses and looks over at you, his heart slightly soars and he says “forreal?” “mhm” you nod and connie looks at you with an amused expression on his face, like there’s an inside joke he’s having with himself..

“aight, bet” he quickly makes a u-turn zooming pass cars and soon after pulls into a whole foods.. he parks and nods for you to get out too, you walk hand in hand inside the store and you grab a basket quickly pulling on his hand, leading him to where you need to go..

you stand in the aisle looking at different types of beans as connie stands close behind you, softly rubbing your back “what are you making?”

“rice and beans with jerk chicken” he groans softly and whispers “sheesh” you smile and continue shopping, quickly grabbing all the ingredients and heading to self check out, connie helps scan and pays of course and you quickly put the bags in the car and head back to his place..

the tv is playing in the back as you cut up vegetables, the meat is already marinating in the fridge, and your just focusing on the rice and beans at this point, connie is standing next to you washing the rice..

connie loves this, cooking with someone, allat wifey shit.. that gets him bad, he hears you giggle at a joke from the show and he smiles, when you proposed the idea of cooking for him he almost fell in love with you on the spot, he likes that wifey shit because he knows he can match that energy by providing, he’s always wanted to be that.. a provider.. it’s just in his nature, he knows dudes who want a wife but act like bums when the opportunity arises, nah he’s gon take care of you back.. always.

he finishes cooking the rice and looks over to you “you need me to do something else?” you finish giggling at the joke and shake your head no “no thank you” you say sweetly.. and he nods before pressing a kiss to your cheek.. “i’m gonna be in my room aight?” “mhm” you nod and he walks down the hallway as you cook..

an hour later your rolling balls of cookie dough and placing them on the baking sheet in front of you, you hear the door open and connie’s comes out the room, he changed into grey sweats and a wife beater he smells the kitchen “damn it’s smells good in here”

you smile and grab the sheet, placing it in the oven and go to the sink to rinse your hands off “we can eat the food is done, i was just making some cookies”

he walks behind you, reaching up grabbing two plates and forks handing them to you, you go over to the pots on the stove and start making his plate..

“you eat alot? you ask and he walks up behind you softly rubbing your lower back “mhm” he hums and you start to put more rice and another piece of chicken and you hand him his plate before making yours..:

you end up on his couch, he puts on a movie and you start to eat.. “you wanna smoke?” he asks and you smile “you stay trynna get me high” he laughs and shakes his head before reaching on his coffee table, grabbing a box and starting to roll up, he sparks it and hits it before passing it to you, you pass it back and forth until your both faded and you start eating

connie takes his first bite and groans softly, pointing and nodding at the food “this is so fucking good mama” you smile knowing that it’s good and you take your fist bite “shiiit” you say and you both laugh high asf..

you talk and eat for the rest of the evening, you open up about yourselves, telling each other things about your insecurities, your outlook on life.. who you want to be as people, and that draws you closer, you both begin to understand that your just people that want love, and company and support.. and that connects with both of you, both of you falling deeper and deeper and not even realizing it..

you and connie cuddle, both wrapped around each other eating the warm cookies fresh out the oven, the high still hitting, you feel his hand softly rub small circles on your hips, and you feel butterflies erupt in your belly, and heat slowly trickling down..you softly adjust yourself, and connie notices looking down, he softly smiles and against his better judgement he slides his palm down, softly rubbing your lower belly, his pinkie lightly grazing under the waistband on your sweats and you softly bite your lip..

you reach back softly, and rub his hand on your belly, softly rubbing it, connie softly presses a kiss to your cheek, slowly moving down to your neck, nipping and sucking softly, your eyes lower and you shudder, you softly turn around, sitting up and connie follows,

you slowly climb on his lap, and his hands immediately finds your waist, you both hold eye contact only breaking it it look at each others lips,he leans in looking up at you for consent, you softly nod and he captures your lips in a kiss, you kiss him back the kiss is slow and sensual, as if your both making a map, slowly figuring each other out.. his tongue grazes your lower lip and you open your mouth , you tongues now dancing around each other, you slowly roll your hips into his his, and that sends a sharp shiver down your spine.. you almost gasp at it..

he hands slides up your chest and up to your neck, grabbing it and squeezing it, pulling you closer, the pace of the kiss becoming faster, more passionate..he softly pulls back softly biting your lip before kissing you again.. you wrap your arms around his neck, your nails grazing against the nape of his neck, causing him to shudder and his bulge under you twitching, this slightly intimidates you.. your a virgin and all of this is new to you.. your just going with the flow.. but damn does it feel good.. it feels better than any words you’ve ever read when reading your silly little romance novels.. even better than when you touch yourself late at night..

you slowly pull away, a string of saliva connecting you both, not wanting you to separate, his eyes are low and filled with lust.. he leans back and groans softly rubbing your ass “you gonna drive me crazy mama” your face heats and you smile “yeah?” you whisper sweetly while you softly rub his chest..

he watches you, and you lean in, laying your head on his chest, he softly rubs your back.. this combined with the weed and food, starts making you sleepy, your eyes begin to lower and connie notices..

“you can sleep baby, i’ll drop you off later” you sleepily nod and you feel connie pull a blanket over you and press a kiss to your forehead.. and you drift off to sleep, feeling safe and warm..

|a/n|

yalll! did you miss me?? hehehe i don’t think you guys understand the bull i just went through!!! tumblr dead deleted half my draft! i’m officially traumatized guys! i see why you guys write in word or like google docs or sumn! but i just wanted to say thank you for over 1000 notes on soft thug 1!! like ermmm i did NOT expect that thank you so much guys!! ily 🩷

[tag-list]

@ebonydumbslut

@burpzz

@rawr29184

[crystalbeetle888]

Second Chances Pt.2

Dog-hybrid 141 x Autistic-coded reader

Your world is turned upside down, when a stalker forces you to adopt a support-hybrid, leading you to meeting his friends and possibly biting off more than you can chew.

Word Count- 2600

Warnings- minor stalker/stalking, threats of violence, course language, descriptions of managed anxiety and depression, consumption of alcohol,

Master List

The next few weeks feel like a blur. You and John find your rhythm in the mundane things. He wakes up before you, making a pot of tea to share when you get up. You cook the both of you a well balanced breakfast, before doing the daily chores. Feeding your rabbit Pluto, doing a load of laundry, washing the morning dishes. You then take a short walk with him to your city center, dropping him off at the gym while you sit at a cafe across the road. You usually use this time to read, work on illustration commissions, or work on writing your books.

You sip on your iced-chocolate as you type away at your newest novel, a forbidden romance between a man cursed to be a werewolf and a woman disgusted with the world. You had your noise reducing earplugs in, so you didn't notice when an unwelcomed figure approached you from behind.

The tap on your shoulder frightens you, causing you to yelp and take out you ear plugs before turning around. There stands Derek, a guy you had only been on two dates with before he insisted on you 'spending the night' with him. As fucking if. Two measly pub meals, where you could barely even hear him over all the noise, and he thinks that's grounds for sex. What a fucking joke.

"Hay, I've been thinking about you lately. What a coincidence meeting you here," he smiles down at you. You try to stifle a grimace with little success, "Yeah.. I highly doubt that" you say bluntly before turning back to your laptop. He chuckles at you "You know, that dry humor of yours is gonna hurt someone's feelings one day".

You roll your eyes "Oh no" you say flatly. Derek chuckle again, before moving around you, sitting down across from you at your table. You look at him with annoyance, eyes wide and face twisted, like you just smelt something awful and slightly concerning.

"I don't remember inviting you to sit", "I just wanted to talk about how we left things..", "I don't want to talk to you. I'm no longer interested in you at all" you insist.

He nods his head slowly, pursing his lips in thought.

"I'm going to put my earplugs in now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to contact me anymore".

After he had tried to persuade you into spending the night with him, you turned your phone off and went device-free for a few days, just to clear your head. It disturbed you at how easily this man thought luring you to his house would be. And how casually he had lied about his true intentions with you. All that bullshit about 'building real connections', and being 'avidly against hookup culture'. He didn't give a shit about hookup culture, he liked hookup culture, he just wanted to trick you into participating. Which is super fucking wrong!

And once you turned your phone back on, you were bombarded with a bunch of freaky ass texts. 'Please I didn't mean it, I'm just having a rough time', 'You led me on, the least you could do is pay me back', 'Sorry about that last one I was drunk'.

What a fucking loser.

In the end you just decided to just block him with no explanation. But now he’s here, bothering you again.

You go to reach for your earplugs case, but he grasps your hand to stop you, “Just hear me out” he insists. Your body tenses at the unwanted contact, like you just touched something mushy in the bottom of the sink. “Let go of my fucking hand!” You raise your voice at him, not aware of the onlookers around you. His grip tightens, coiling like a snake, “You need to calm down, this isn’t a big deal..” “Let go!” You stand abruptly. Your chest heaves with adrenaline, your heart pounding in your ears as you give him an fiery stare.

Derek’s face goes pale as he stares back at you, or really, as he stares over your shoulder. “Everything alright?” John steps up beside you. Unsurprisingly, Derek let’s go of your hand at the sight of your hulking hybrid friend. Fucking coward.

“Everything’s cool man, no need to go all beast mode on me” Derek laughs nervously, throwing his hands up in defeat.

John doesn’t laugh, or really move at all, asides from hovering his hand over the small of your back. His pointed ears twitch as his sharp blue eyes remain focused on the man across from him.

Derek looks at you one last time before slowly backing away.

You let out a shuddered breath, you didn’t know you were holding in, “Thank you” you whisper. John’s hand gently ghosts your back “You alright?”, you nod in response “Yeah just a bit shaken up”.

“Let’s get you home then” he suggests quietly.

John hovers next to you as you pack away your belongings. Taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he offers you his arm. Hesitantly, you place your hand on his thick forearm before beginning the walk back home.

From this position, you are made keenly aware of his altered physique. His form seemed larger, stretching his shirt tightly across his chest and bulging biceps. He also somehow seemed taller? You weren't sure, everything about him just seemed to be enhanced now, his features seemed sharper. John turns to look at you, snapping you out of your stare “Everything alright?" he asks.

You turn your head forwards, face flushing with embarrassment "Mhmm" you hum. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast and your stomach tingles with nerves. You weren't familiar with this bodily sensation. It felt somewhere between being happy and being anxious. You didn't like it. It was new, and new things frustrates you.

Finally arriving home, you let yourself in before making a B-line to your room. Stripping from your clothes, you quickly hop into the boiling hot shower, washing away any remaining feelings or smells of Derek. Despite that he only touched your hand, the fact that you didn't explicitly invite him to, makes you feel icky. Like, a full body disgusted, bugs crawling on the skin, slimy feeling, kind of icky.

The hot pelting water soothes your tense muscles, finally allowing you to relax.

Once you’ve been sufficiently decompressed, you toddle out of the bathroom, putting on some fresh trackie pants and an oversized shirt, before making your way back downstairs to continue with the rest of your day. “Are you alright?” John stands from the couch when you enter the room. “Yeah I just needed to clean myself, he had sticky hands” your body physically shivers at the thought of Derek’s touch.

“Anyways, I was thinking maybe I should try to get in touch with your pack members, organise a meet up or something” you swiftly change the subject, trying to put him out of your mind “So you can socialise and all” you say nonchalantly as you prepare lunch.

John stares for an uncomfortably long moment before nodding “I think that’s a great idea. I know who you can email to make that happen”

And after much back and forth emailing between you and Kate Laswell, she finally just offers to give you Simon’s number. Probably sick of being the middle man.

-Hi, this is (Y/N), I’m Johns guardian. Just wanted to reach out and see if we could organise a catchup sometime. Let me know when suits you. Hope this message finds you well.

-This is Simon. We’re free Saturday. Does the Duke Hotel at 1800 work?

-Yes! That works for us. Can’t wait to meet you guys, we’ll see you there!❤️

You weren’t sure if it was appropriate to send the heart, but all well, you’re sure he gets the point.

Your body is practically buzzing when Saturday finally rolls around, with excitement or anxiety, you weren’t sure. You pick out some casual and comfortable jeans, an oversized shirt that you tied at the front, your special ‘going out’ boots, and a large plaid shirt to throw over the top. Before making your way downstairs where John was waiting.

“Ready to go?” He asks, dressed nicely in some casual jeans, a fresh tee, and a dark grey coat. “Well don’t you look handsome, aye? I’m ready to go when you are” you say casually to him as you grab your purse off the hook. “Come on” you march out the and into the cool night, heading towards your car. Having failed to make the appropriate level of eye contact for the conversation, you completely missed John’s flushed expression. He wasn’t expecting you to compliment him so boldly and suddenly.

His tail stands stiffly in attention, his ears and eyes honed in to your movements as you walk past him to your car. Your earthy smelling body oil wafting through the air as you do. He watches you, like a predator stalking its prey. “Hello? Are you coming?” You call out to him.

Shaking his body he lets the feeling dissipate. ‘Not the right time’ he thinks to himself. Given your current situation and obvious sensitivities, John thought it’d be best to let any possible feelings have time to grow first. He wasn’t blind though, he could see you were an attractive person, and just knew the boys would make a move on you tonight. The thought irritated him.

The drive to the hotel was short, parking just up the road the two of you hop out before making your way up the street.

John stopping you just outside the door “Before we go in, I just wanted to say thank you, for putting in the effort” he gazes down at you, hand pressed gently to your upper arm. As not to scare you off.

Your heart swells “Oh that’s alright. You need to socialise too ya know?” you laugh, slightly flustered and not entirely sure what to say. John smiles down at you before opening his arms slightly “Can I..” he trails off hesitantly. You nod your head enthusiastically before pulling him into a hug. His thick arms enveloped you tightly, pulling a squeak out of you as he gives you a squeeze. The pressure, along with his naturally high body temperature is comforting. Pair that with his general earthy-musky smell and you’re in sensory heaven.

Pulling away, you are left feeling more grounded than before. “Let’s not keep them waiting them, aye love” placing his hand on the small of your back, he leads you inside to a table where three dog-hybrids sit.

A Doberman-hybrid, with blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a dark hoodie and medical mask.

A German shepherd-hybrid, with dark curly hair, deep brown eyes and a trimmed moustache.

And a Cane Corso-hybrid with a brown mowhawk, and fresh cut facial hair.

“Evening lads” John pulls out your chair, before sitting down beside you. “It’s good to see you cap” the German shepherd-hybrid pats him on the shoulder. “I knew they couldn’t break you” the Cane Corso-hybrid smiles wildly at him, his thick Scottish accent echoes in your mind. The Doberman-hybrid doesn’t say anything, but raises his beer to his friend.

“So.. this is the lass taking care of you” the Corso looks at you eagerly. “Easy there Soap” John warns him.

“This is (Y/N), she’s my guardian now”, you smile at them shyly, suddenly forgetting your nerves “Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys”.

The three men size you up, the Scott sniffing the air intently. “This is Kyle or Gaz, Simon also known as Ghost, and..” “And I’m Johnny, or Soap if you’d prefer” he winks at you, offering his hand. Kyle scoffs at him “Control yourself mate”.

You laugh nervously, shaking his much larger and rougher hand “You guys have such interesting nicknames”

Johnny chuckles “Aye, you wanna know how I got mine”. Kyle groans. “She doesn’t give a shit mate” Simon grumbles, shaking his head, “It’s cause I can clean up the enemy” he boasts, flexing his pecs at the table. Mostly at you though. You and John laugh at their drunken antics.

The atmosphere was light tonight, with good drinks and easy conversation, you get along with John’s pack easily. However all those drinks have to catch up with your bladder at some point. “Excuse me for a moment” you whisper to John, who nods in acknowledgment. Getting up, you make a B-line for the bathroom.

John turns to his pack once you’re out of hearing range, “I need you lads to do me a favour” he says, his voice suddenly becoming serious. The three hybrids shift at their friend’s sudden change in attitude. “Whatever you need cap, we’ve got you” Johnny responds.

“I need you to deal with someone who’s bothering her. He’s becoming a problem” John explains. “Human?” Simon asks, John nodding in response. “Sounds easy enough then” Simon chuckles.

“She can’t ever know though, got it?” John stares at each of them with a hard glare. They all nod in agreement.

“So.. have you two mated yet?” Johnny grins cheekily at his pack mate. “Piss off” John barks, causing the table to erupt with laughter. “I fuckin bet that you two won’t last more than two weeks without doin it” Johnny teases.

“Leave him alone Johnny, you’re fuckin drunk” Kyle points at him from across the table.

“You’re wrong..” Simon says, capturing their attention, “They won’t last more than one week”.

The men laugh loudly as you approach the table, letting out a long yawn as you sit back in your seat, the day finally catching up to you. "Seems like it's time for us to go lads" John says, rising from his chair he lends you a hand to stand. "Oh I'm fine if you want to stay out longer" you respond. "Nah It's getting late, we should head in too lass" Johnny insists. Shrugging, you take Johns' hand and stand up.

The groups shares some quick goodbyes before parting ways. The journey back home was a blur, stumbling through the door you kick off your boots before trudging tiredly upstairs. John following close behind. Entering your room, you quickly change into your nighties, ready to jump straight into bed.

However, a knock at your bedroom door interrupts you. Opening it up, John stands there awkwardly “I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for tonight love. Thank you”.

You pout at him, feeling tired, drunk, and sentimental. “Oh John, it’s alright” you mumble, as you cuddle up to him for another hug. Hugging status unlocked. His strong arms embrace you again, rubbing comforting circles on your back. The sensation causing your eyes to droop and body to relax into him “You’re not falling asleep are you?” His hot whisky breath fans across your face.

You grunt in response, causing him to chuckle.

He leads you back to your bed, opening up the covers for you to crawl under. You, letting out little giggles, as he tucks you in and kisses your forehead. “Good night love” he whispers to you, before sneaking out of the room.

John wanders off to his own room, settling in his bed for the night. His thoughts drift back to his friends and what they said earlier. They were wrong. John intended on waiting for you. He was a patient man, and knows that the best things in life take time to grow. And he was more than willing to wait for someone as good as you.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Just stating for the record that there's a lot of confusion about what asexuality is and isn't, and whether ace people can participate in sex, and if sex has to be penetrative.

Like not that it's my job to be your sex educator lmao but

Yes asexual people can have sex; this is about a lack of attraction, not a lack of libido or sexual dysfunction.

Of course sex does not have to be penetrative.

Being celibate is not the same as being asexual.

Asexuals can be attracted to people without wanting to fuck them, they can still experience romantic attraction or desire intimacy that is not sex.

If you want to dismantle ace themes/reads in your fandom of choice, please use textual points that are, in fact, truthful about what asexuality is and isn't. A book isn't less queer if the characters don't fuck. Queer people can still experience love and romance without sex. This need to insist that a piece of media isn't ace because it's queer is saying that asexuals aren't queer, and we're not here for exclusionary radfem bullshit okay?

If we're going to preach this in the larger conversation of queer politics when it comes to, for example: trans rights, queer content in children's' libraries, existing in public--we have to be consistent. Don't tell the larger world that every facet of a queer person's life isn't about SEX but then tell ace people that they're not queer because they don't want sex, or dismiss a queer piece of media because the characters didn't fuck. Asexuality is not queer subtext, it is queer text. It is already queer.

If you're thinking about dunking on ace people in your fandom, like, listen! We know that tumblr has a radfem & conservative problem lol so like if you're just a radfem/terf/conservative/whatever I can't stop you, but if you don't associate with those folks and still want to be exlusionary, please check some resources to see if your understanding of asexuality is up to date before you make a bunch of points that don't matter. I really recommend AVEN - The Asexuality Visibility & Education Network and The Trevor Project's page about Asexuality as a starting point!

Just ask, before you post:

Does the asexual read hurt anybody?

Am I invalidating someone's experience by telling them that they're wrong?

Does my point balance strictly on concepts of sex, and not concepts of attraction?

Am I sure I understand what asexuality is before I start dunking on it and being exclusionary to the ace people in my fandom?

Am I regurgitating points about what sex is and isn't without remembering that asexuality is about sexual attraction, and not about whether or not someone participates in sex acts? (ie: "They do have sex, someone got a handjob" isn't really building your case the way you think it is.)

What exactly is the purpose of my post if it's not to be exclusionary and fucking rude? Do I need to examine my own biases towards ace people?

[ewingstan]

Worm and other media that won't just let you shoot the Joker, part 1:

Worm comments on the structure of stories, especially superhero stories, in some interesting ways. There's a lot of stuff that happen in superhero comics for no real reason than that it needs to happen for the story to be interesting; a huge amount of Worm's worldbuilding is devoted to taking these things and making the fact that they have to happen an explicit in-setting constraint. For instance, superhero stories tend to have more powerful heroes face off against much more powerful villains than their less-powerful allies, to the point where it seems like super-powerful threats are coming to earth every few weeks just because it wouldn't be interesting to read that comic otherwise. It gets weirder when you compare what villains end up visiting the cities of uber-powerful heroes vs the cities of less powerful heroes: Gotham mostly just has to deal with serial killers while Metropolis is a magnet for evil gods. Worm plays with this by having the Endbringers exist only because the big hero needed something to fight in-text: it changes "powerful heroes need powerful villains or else it wouldn't be interesting" from a Doylist justification to a Watsonian one. Then there's the fact that so much of the horrible conflict in Earth Bet is explicitly caused by Gods making sure the powers they grant people lead to increased conflict, the fact that one of the most powerful characters does what she does because the plot path to victory says she needs to, etc.

But the big one is Jack Slash, and how he's only able to get away with his bullshit because he has plot armor as a secondary power. As WB says here, "Jack's a reconstruction of the Joker type character in the sense that you can't have such a character take such a high profile position in the setting, without having there be a cheat." The Joker and similar characters are only able to keep being relevant threats in their stories because the narrative bends to let them win and stops them from being killed. Jack Slash is only able to keep being a relevant threat because his power makes the universe bend to let him win in the same way. Not only does this make for an interesting obstacle (its almost like they're fighting an authorial mandate!), but it skewers the use of similar character's plot armor and how unrealistic and unsatisfying it makes their stories.

But wait, what does it mean for a story to be "unrealistic" in the context of superpowers? Is being unrealistic in those contexts actually a problem? For that matter, what does it mean for a narrative to bend to let someone win? Its not like there's an objective way fighting the Joker would go, which the author is deviating from by letting him survive.

[Stuff under readbelow contains spoilers fo, the movie Funny Games and the book Anybody Home?]

Maybe we could say that if characters like the Joker were real, and put in the situations they are in their stories, they would end up being killed really quickly. But is that a reasonable way to judge stories? A narrative where such a character is killed unceremoniously to satisfy a need for realism isn't any less an expression of the author's deliberate choices than a story where the character keeps showing back up to satisfy a desire for fan-favorite characters. And while Jack Slash's arcs help show why deviating from "realistic consequences" in the service of keeping a character alive can make a story exhausting and screw with an audiences' appreciation of stakes, it doesn't make a strong case against the concept of villains having plot armor in general. A story isn't necessarily worse just for being constructed to keep the villains alive—all stories are constructed, and sometimes being constructed that way makes for the best story.

That becomes more clear when you take the premise of Jack Slash as "killer who wins because the mechanics of the universe says so" and make clear just how much "the mechanics of the universe" really just means "the story". Which is how you get Peter and Paul from Funny Games.

I'd highly recommend watching Funny Games (though for the love of god check content warnings), as well as Patricia Taxxon's review of it that I'm cribbing a lot from here. But to summarize, Funny Games is a movie written and directed by Michael Haneke about a family's lakeside vacation being interrupted by the appearance of two murderous young men, who capture them in their own house and slowly torture and kill them off. At least, that's what it seems to be about initially. It marketed itself as a somewhat standard entry in the genres of torture porn and home invasion thrillers, and played itself straight as one for the majority of its runtime. But then one of the two villains of the pair, "Paul," starts talking to the audience.

It starts small: after crippling the family's father and revealing that he killed their dog, Paul has the wife look for its corpse outside. While giving her hints, he slowly turns back towards the camera and smirks, before turning back. In isolation, maybe it could be interpreted as Paul smirking at Peter, seeming to look out at the audience only because of clumsy blocking. But then it happens again. Paul tells the family, who are completely at their mercy at this point, that they're gonna bet that they'll all be dead within twelve hours. When the family refuses to take the bet, asking how they could hope to win it when he can clearly off them all whenever they wish, Paul turns towards the audience and asks "what do you think? Do you think they stand a chance? Well you're on their side aren't you. Who you betting on, eh?" The audience is being acknowledged; their role as someone invested in the story is being examined by the ones introducing the stakes.

But the biggest moment comes near the end, when the mother grabs the shotgun she's being threatened with and blasts Peter. Paul startles, grins, and then hurredly grabs a tv remote and presses rewind. The movie itself suddenly rewinds to right before the mother grabs the gun, and plays again with Paul grabbing the shotgun right before the mother reaches for it.

Its a truly incredible moment, in that its the perfect way to forcibly take away the audience's suspension of disbelief. It forces the audience to acknowledge that they're viewing a story, not something happening to a real family. After their moment of catharsis against the villains, Paul makes the confront the fact that the movie will end however the creators want it to, and if they want the villains to win they'll will regardless of how little sense it makes. Fuck you, we can go from being set in the normal world with normal rules to the villains traveling back in time with a tv remote, because a story does whatever its creators want. Haneke just decided to make that obvious in the most jarring way imaginable.

But maybe the best way to illustrate Funny Games effectiveness at this type of artful unveiling is comparing it to its less-effective imitators. I've recently finished Anybody Home?, a recently-published book by Michael J. Seidlinger. It has the conceit of being narrated by an unnamed mass-murderer, guiding a new killer in their first home invasion. I started reading it before I watched Funny Games, and even afterwards took a while to realize the unnamed narrator wasn’t just a pastiche of a Paul-like character but was actually supposed to be read as Paul himself. Seidlinger was having his book be a sort of unofficial sequel to Funny Games, narrated by its star. Once I realized, a lot of the books details suddenly clicked. The big one was the constant references to “the camera" and the idea of murder being a performance for an audience, one that needed to be fresh and original to make “the cults” enjoy it. Take these passages from page 77:

If it happened, it would perturb. It would create suspicion. It wouldn’t end up ruining the performance, and yet, it could have derailed our casing. The camera can have all it wants; either way, it’ll make it look better than it really was. It’ll strip away the cues and other planned orchestrations and it’ll show the action—the actuality of each scene, each suggestion…

This is a spectacle, above all. The craft pertains to keeping and maintaining a captive audience; behind the camera, you’ll never know how it happened—the trickery that made the impossible possible, the insanity so close to home. It is spectacle.

Through online activity, the son made it clear that something is happening at home, yet we cannot be certain if he has noticed the camera.

These all point to the idea that the murders are being viewed by an audience rather than just by intruders, that this is a performance for said audience's benefit more than anything else. But notably, it also reinforces the idea of these characters having an existence outside of the camera: the camera shows the action and "strips away" the cues behind it, the victims have a life outside the camera such that they could plausibly sense that the camera is now here. The victims are sometimes described as playing into their role, but always metaphorically; always as if normal people start acting like characters when put in certain circumstances. Whereas Funny Games posits that characters will behave however the author wants them to, denying the claim that stories are realistic simulations of hypothetical scenarios.

The whole thing is predicated on the idea that there needs to be a guide, that the villain of a home invader movie is really in danger of something going wrong. Paul/The narrator keeps giving directions on what needs to be double checked, what needs to X, and its completely against the spirit of the role Paul served in Funny Games. If something goes wrong for the villain they should just be able to rewind and do it over, because the story was written for them to succeed. Anybody Home? throws out Funny Games theme of the story being on rails, of the winner being whoever the author wants it to be and the events following whatever the author wanted rather than what would "really" happen. It throws out the whole idea that it’s all just a story, by supporting the idea that the characters have lives not captured by the camera—or more relevantly, not captured on-page.

Because Seidlinger using the language of film in a book leads to different things going on with the fourth wall. The way Funny Games and Anybody Home? make the camera explicit are just different, and the former does it much more interestingly than the latter. Seildinger’s characters aren’t looking back at the reader, the fourth wall is never actually breached. Funny Games has Paul look into the camera to address the audience, making clear how it’s a story being set up for the audience's benefit. Anybody Home? invokes the idea of a camera tracking everything home invaders do in general, having it be a third-party force that’s itself an unseen character contained within the story, observing the intruder's crime rather than the reader. Why is it still a camera, if we're in a book rather than a movie? A character in a book talking about a camera watching them does not convey any of the same meaning as a character in a movie suddenly looking into a camera and smirking at the audience!

By the end, you realize that this is caused in part by the book's bizarro take on how horror movies exist in this world. It reveals that in its setting, all horror movies are adaptations of real home invasions, which get recorded by unseen mysterious forces. Killers enter a home and enact violence, are filmed by some supernatural camera, the footage gets leaked to the public, and then the killers sell the rights to the work to studios. The events of SAW really happened, but the movie was just an adaptation. Funny Games really happened, but the Paul in the movies was just an actor playing the Paul narrating this book. The killer's victims eventually realize that they're "victims," but not in the sense that they realize their characters in a story, only in a sense that they realize they got sucked into their world's magical realism bullshit.

Ultimately, while the book does the same trick of being all about how horror stories are “for” us, it gets rid of all the tricks that made it work for Funny Games. It even strips it's in-universe version of what made it special; Funny Games is just another adaptation of a real home invasion. All the meta stuff that makes it interesting in its genre are just gestured at as aesthetics.

So what makes Jack Slash in Worm succeed where the killers in Anybody Home? fail? Both are constructed to be entertaining for a 3rd party who stand-in for but aren't actually the audience; the entities in Worm, the cults in Anybody Home?. But Jack Slash doesn't mix his metaphors. Worm may turn various real-life factors affecting a work into in-story mechanisms of the world in the same way Anybody Home? does. But it doesn't also base itself off a text that takes in-story mechanisms and breaks them to force the audience to see the various real-life factors affecting the work. In effect, WB pulls off a trick Seidlinger tries and fails because WB wasn't taking another metatexual story and stripping it of what made it interesting.

Though that introduces the question: can such meta-moves be mixed? Can you have a text where story conceits become explicit plot mechanics the characters are aware of, while also having characters really look at the camera and tell the audience that its all just a story? Can you actually sell it and make it something interesting?

There is one story that tries this. I don't know if it pulls it off, but it certainly makes a lot of interesting moves that create a fascinating whole. It even comments on the Joker in the same way Worm does, having a character who seemingly cant die because the roll they play in the story is too impor—

Ah fuck.

Continued in part 2.

[stromuprisahat]

Sorry, I thought I sent it to you . I accidentally sent it to another page instead. 😅

so Just before you read these texts, know that I'm not anti-Darklina. I was just randomly scrolling through Tumblr and saw these, and they had reacted to your messages. So I thought I’d send them to you :)

the darkling had a lot of repetitive phrases he used when he was manipulating people. this has been said before, but he says “you and i are going to change the world.” a LOT. like bro please get a new line we’re all tired of your bullshit he also uses the argument of grisha aging against people. he points out to alina that she’ll outlive mal, and points out to nikolai that zoya will outlive him. in both of these situations, he wanted the couples separated. he kept scaring them by making them think of losing each other. and idk i think that’s interesting. But seriously, the two interacted a tiny bit in the first book (and that ended with him stealing her power and taking ownership of her), barely at all in the second, (and even that was just a whole lot of the Darkling being a creep and stalking on her, giving her mental trauma) and a tiny bit more in the third. (In which the Darkling killed several of her loved ones, destroyed her childhood home, and in turn, Alina killed him)

So if u saw it in another channel just say your opinion, but if u don't ill be happy if you read it :)))

First of all- I've already mentioned it, probably more than once- the "You and I..." is clearly a retcon. The fact it's "revealed" in KoS2 makes it painfully obvious. At that point LB was in her "renouncing the Darkling" stage, her readership got younger and more radically set against TRULY morally grey characters, so Darkles' non-hater could detect clear whiff of anti-him sentiments. The duology earned the title of spitebook by how clearly it's supposed to vilify the Darkling (and Darklina).

In-universe explanation is rather simple (credit to late yototo for pointing it out somewhere, but I couldn't find the thread)- Zoya LOVES to believe she's daddy's super ✨special✨ girl, but why would the Darkling bother focusing on her, of all people, when she was nothing more than an ordinary- albeit promising- Squaller? Even Alina- his alleged victim no. 1- openly admits he's hardly in Little Palace, he's constantly on the move, so when would he do more that a few words here and there?

Which leads us to the gigantic plot hole of viability of such "manipulation". The Darkling did nothing to isolate his "victims". They were free to talk, and don't tell me someone as competitive as Zoya wouldn't boast about her grand future. The same person, who's lying about her importance, when she's just crossing the Fold.

Alina probably mentioned what the Darkling told her and Zoya chose to believe he did the same with her. She's the person, who's still choosing to believe her intervention saved the tiger cubs instead of dooming them to violent death. The same person, who's "forbidding" her subordinate to die as she's about to swoop in as their savior, while abandoning army waiting for her help. The person, who basically calls her stupid aunt a hero for running towards a natural catastrophe with no means to protect even herself, instead of grabbing her kid and fleeing.

The third case of use of that "pick-up line" is when the Darkling's revived, empty-handed, totally done with the situation his people and country are in after his death. His only option, the only possible resource, is a bunch of stupid, xenophobic zealots, and he needs their chief's support. Flattering him might be a strategy, but use of THIS specific sentence reeks of irony, even sarcasm. The last time the Darkling did that, he believed he's a step away from bright future. He finally found the Sun Summoner, the situation was critical, but the key to everything was right here, and what more- his equal, his eternal companion, his Sun... Can you see the contrast?

I wouldn't call pointing out powerful Grisha's immortality a manipulation, it's experience talking. Sure, he didn't ship it, but there's no lie, and neither of the couples took this simple fact into consideration. Alina's hellbent on building her life around Malyen, and Zoya draws her political power from Nikolai. The same mortal Alina was somehow engaged to as THE Sun Summoner, same imprudence.

Generally the notion the Darkling was manipulating Alina is beyond laughable. If he did, Alina wouldn't run off after a single conversation with his mother, who btw is THE true manipulator in Morozova family. Either Aleksander's truly dull, and haven't learnt a thing at his mother's knee, or he simply didn't have the time and/or intention to try. I mean... his pathetic mortal pseudocousin is the master of getting Alina to do whatever he pleases. She marries Malyen after all.

I'm not sure what's the simplification of the trilogy supposed to show. Oh no, he did deeeeeds of eeeeevil!

When Alina was gathering an army and climbing up his chief enemy's ass, merrily planning to shoot him to pieces with all his followers and any bystanders (But who gives a shit about commoners in these books anyway.)?! Yeah, he should've totally treated her better...

[cleolinda]

Weekend links: April 6, 2025

My posts

I'm STILL working on the fourth video writeups for our Silent Hill 2 project, and I am a bit frustrated that life is getting in the way. 

(OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAVITY AND FRAUDULENT BANK CHARGES)

Anyway (ANYWAY?!) Ian's fourth stream is up. HE HAS SEEN WHAT I RECORDED AND ANSWERS MY QUESTIONS I SWEAR IT'S REAL. 

Reblogs of interest

If you'd like to help the survivors of the Myanmar and Thailand earthquake, World Central Kitchen and MSF/Doctors Without Borders are on the ground.

Val Kilmer passed away earlier this week.

"babe are you ok you reblogged 'it's coming back but we'll see it through' again"

The Buffalo Nations Grasslands Alliance is raising money to save black-footed ferrets on tribal grounds, after the current administration froze conservation funds.

RIP Stumpy the cherry tree, who will live on through his cuttings in D.C.

James Baldwin: "Love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time and, furthermore, to win." 

"You lead a very interesting life"

Don't take the easy way out with AI: "Imagine what you can do if you learn to bullshit like I can bullshit"

The Sad Bastard Cookbook, a free e-book for your low spoons

"Put baby in pelican mouth for Instagram photo. Facebook photo of baby in pelican mouth for many likes"

How Many Cigarettes are in any given movie?

In defense of Mr. Darcy's proposal

Going snail mode

A hungry axolotl: "Fuckibg superb you funky little kirby"

Grip, snacking at my chamber door

"More actual things that happen in the 1897 Dracula novel without context"

A recommendation for A Dictionary of Color Combinations

Like I knew Ariana Grande had been up to some shit but I wasn't ready for this

Love a perfume review that says "Nothing wrong with a bit of fear"

"It’s a misconception that the mimics are hunting humans when they trail along at the back of hiking groups"

"But hey, there’s nothing wrong with having a completely absurd contingency plan. In case of time loops."

Video

Wet Beast Wednesday: Pitiful cranky baby otter sounds

Star Wars was not worthy of Amandla Stenberg and her violin (bring back The Acolyte if you want to prove me wrong)

Yes, Rick Astley has more songs

Hybrid Calisthenics: "Being on the right path often FEELS better and more natural - even if it’s more work."

Is this cat a goalie, technically?

"Sexy Nation Army," a mashup (only technically "video")

The sacred texts

"for april fools we’re deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits"

"when will mcr return from the war"

Personal tags of the week

1) Art, which had some real bangers this week, including Remedios Varo, Mexican Gothic, Diane & Leo Dillon, a genuine Hokusai print found at an antique market, a wee Eohippus, something that doesn't listen, AND MORE;

2) Honestly birds had some good ones as well;

3) One orange braincell had two good ones, including a painting of a cat about town;

4) and U.S. politics, since there were some good things:

First, Senator Cory Booker gave a marathon speech for more than 25 hours, reading from "multiple three-ring binders, including articles from bipartisan sources and letters from his constituents, in what he called 'terrified people' with 'heartbreaking' stories" in protest of the current administration, and breaking Strom Thurmond's filibuster record (which "itself was a last ditch attempt to block the Civil Rights Act"). And it was not just a filibuster; it was representation.

Meanwhile, April 5 had “Hands Off” demonstrations across all 50 states, "targeting threats to democracy, bodily autonomy, and climate justice." Here's how the St. Paul, MN, protest went (direct link for the tags).

[81pastrys]

The Mafia’s Princess

Part 6 / 16

Summary— A sudden call in the middle of the night provokes her to do business.

Warnings— mentions of a firearm ; she slaps a guard (valid)

A/N— welp here we are again 🫣

Series List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws

We get back to the hotel room and I take off my makeup, change my clothes, then lay in bed. I haven’t said a word to Charles since my conversation with Pierre. “Mon amour, s’il te plaît.” (My love, please.) he said. His voice soft and unwarranted.

“Quoi?” (What) I respond handing him the same energy. “I already left, there’s no point in me showing back up.” I say defeated at my own actions. His face shows concern as he sighs.

“I can bring you back, I just figured you didn’t want to live like that.” He admitted. It wasn’t for me, but for himself. He doesn’t want me to go back, but he knows I will.

“I don’t, but it’s like you racing.” I say, starting an analogy. “There’s the adrenaline rush and the back of your mind feeling it won’t work.” I explain. It’s not the money I do it for, I do it because I feel wanted, like I’m important for something. He doesn’t understand that.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll bring you back.” He said. He crawled in bed next to me and pulled me closer. My mind races faster than his car on track.

Do I really want to go back? Is it even worth it to? What if they see me as a traitor just falling off and not responding to calls or texts? So many things run through my head. I eventually shake it off and cuddle closer to the Monegasque, sleep claiming me.

I wake up to a call, who could be calling at 3 am? My phone lights up with Leclerc, but he’s laying next to me. I see the A in front and jump out of bed. I answer the call and lock the bathroom door. “Hello?” He asked. He sounded just like his older brother.

“Arthur, it’s 3am.” I say. Something has to be wrong, or he wouldn’t be calling me of all people. “Is something the matter? Do you need me back in Monaco?”

“Little to no time to explain, but they don’t know English.” He rushed out. “Yes, you need to be in Monaco asap, Ocon’s bar.” The line cuts. I look at my phone and it turns off. I open the door loud enough to wake Charles.

“Mon amour?” He questioned. I rush around the room packing my bag and putting on clothes I would for Mafia business. “Slow down.” He said realizing what I was doing.

“C'est Arthur, il a besoin de moi à Monaco.” (It’s Arthur, he needs me in Monaco) I say quickly in my native tongue. I zip the suit case and book the next and quickest flight out. I get back to back calls from Charles but ignore them.

I land in Monaco around an hour and half later. I get a ride to my garage and throw my stuff in the boot. Only then do I call Charles back. “What the fuck?!” He exclaimed.

“Arthur called, Ocon has him and I need to do this, I’m sorry, he’s in trouble and I couldn’t say no. I don’t care if this was a ploy but he’s like my brother too.” I say quickly, I speed my way to Ocons usual bar spot.

Charles rants to me on the phone how irresponsible I am before I inevitably hang up. I grab my gun and place the holster on my hip, placing it in sight with no care. I put my hair in a neat ponytail and get out the car.

I lock the doors and walk inside. I cross my arms at the entrance seeing Ocon guards. “Regarde ce que le chat a traîné.” (Look what the cat dragged in) one said. “Ce n'était qu'une question de temps, Princesse.” (It was only a matter of time, Princess.) A guard said, grabbing money from another.

“Arrête tes conneries, où est Ocon?” (Cut the bullshit, where’s Ocon?) I say. One directs me to the back room and I smile before slapping him in the face. I walk inside and see Arthur on a chair, chained down. “Que veux-tu?” (What do you want?) I ask him.

“Je veux que vous restiez.” (I want you to stay) Ocon mentions lightly. Fiddling with a glass orb in his hand. “Les accords commerciaux continuent de se détériorer.” (Business deals keep going sour.) He pans to Arthur as to blame him. Arthur mumbles from tape covering his mouth.

“Condoléances, mais ce n'est pas ma problème.” (Condolences but that’s not my problem.) I start to unchain Arthur and Ocon grabs my arm. I turn, grabbing my gun and pointing it at him. “Allons-y et je penserai à rester.” (Let us go and I’ll think about staying.) he backs away with his arms surrendering to me. I grab Arthur’s hand and we leave the bar.

Ignore that brother comment for the next part btw

[lokorum]

Hi, I have been following you for some time and just read you also have cats. Can we see them or can you tell us about them? I love seeing people's cats but can't have any since I'm allergic.

oh gosh, this is like the ultimate-nicest-ask any person could ever recieve and i still made you wait for the reply, im so so sorry!! classic case of unlucky timing happend - your ask came on the next day after one of our cats had to be put down through euthanasia. im only now feeling like talking about her, hope you'll understand <3

also warning: someone here is obsessed with their cats so prepare yourself for a lot of pictures!!!

so this is her, our obachan that was somewhere around 16-17 yo at the moment of her death (no one knows how old she was for sure, and we called her a necromant bc doctors predicted her death like 10 times and she lived and lived and lived. our friend said that everytime death came for her she just stared at it with her unblinking eyes, forcing it to leave lskdjflkdsjf)

near the end of her life she had no teeth, progressing cancer, brain tumor that caused epilepsia but she still was the god's smallest gremlin, (and the most adorable too) creating havoc everywhere she went

the other cat that we adopted is this little goofball

she literally found us on the street near our home back in ulan ude and just followed us there asking food. she was our neighboors cat, but they left her behind after moving, saying some bullshit like they coudnt catch her (while she was activelly asking to be held when she came to us. she was pregnant too, and very, very anxious)

she is the most shy cat i ever met; text book wall-flower, but now after almost 5 years together she is much more brave!! tho she still scared of blankets and towels for the reasons that makes want to return back to uu and violently kill her previous family

also can anyone tell me what is this

and heres our first cat and the only one we havent adopted from the street but from a different family!! she is the youngest and the cheekiest little seagle that loves to terrorize everyone and since she is very very cute - she gets away with it every time

she also is notoriously hard to catch in a photo, and when we finally able to - she is just chilling in the most bizzare places like in the freezer

on the toilet cistern

on the computer box

on the bysicle seat

inside the drawer inside the box

on the bench

inside the cat bag

i found one (1) picture of her in the bed and it looks like this

like almost anyone who has cat family member - i could talk about their little habbits for hours but i think what i already said is too much so im putting myself on the leash here lkjsdflkjasjd thank you so much for listen to my rumblings!!! i cant deny it feels kinda healing to talk about all of them now and that happened thanks to you @dabenport so sending you a lot of hugs!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ also i have allergy on cats psldkf;sdkf;lkd;lf so i hope that maybe one day you'll be able to find less allergic cat friends to share your life with!!! im sneezing a lot but its worth it

[fromthefirstmomentitouchedyou]

Soulmate au 3

They’ve been sequestered into a side room in Kensington Palace, Alex is fairly sure theres a guard on the opposite side of the door in case one of them decides to bolt. He thinks about texting Nora to see what the odds are because Henry hasn’t looked at him since they’d been shoved in here, he’s looked in Alex’s direction sure but Alex has had media training and he knows all the tricks Henry is employing.

It’s not like he’s not doing it as well.

He glances down at the book on his thighs-the Prince Henry fact sheet, Henry has an identical one in his lap.

“This is bullshit,” Alex says for the tenth time in a row.

“Yes, well if we have to pull off this soulmates thing we have to at least pretend to know each other,” Henry says bitingly.

Alex sets the fact sheet on the couch beside him. “We don’t have to pretend we are soulmates, you could just ask me questions that’s what usually happens in these cases.”

“Most people actually want to be soulmates,” Henry says archly.

The sarcastic lilt of Henry’s voice sets off something hard and unpleasant in Alex’s stomach, a cramp at the verbal acknowledgement of how much Henry doesn’t want him. And it shouldn’t bother him, he doesn’t want Henry right back but the bond between them doesn’t lie. His body doesn’t lie even if his brain does. Henry’s rejection stings.

“Look, man, just ask me questions like a normal person,” Alex says.

For the first time Henry does look at him and the wave of pure emotion that wells in Alex’s throat makes him feel parched. Well, now he knows why Henry wasn’t looking at him.

Fuck the soulmate bond.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Alex blinks, he’d expected a soft ball question, maybe what’s your favourite colour or something. But as ever Henry cuts down to the very core of him and prods something painful.

“The Olympics,” Alex says, “I came up to you to introduce myself and you took one look at me and told Shaan to “get me out of here”

Henry has the grace to blanch at least. “I didn’t know you heard that.”

The heat in Alex’s belly turns into anger. “Yeah, that’s not really the point is it? The point is you were a dick”

Henry nods solemnly. “Yes, of course. It’s not an excuse but my father died a few months before and to be frank I was a dick to pretty much everyone all of the time back then.”

Oh.

Alex swallows. He should’ve just studied the fact sheet. Now he feels as if he’s peeled back a layer of Henry and glimpsed a person inside. His soulmate, not some rich stuck up cardboard character.

He feels an identical desire to peel back a layer. “I just….this shit is hard and I didn’t get a handbook and I wasn’t born to this like you were and it’s pretty hard when everyone compares me to you, who apparently can do all this in your sleep and it doesn’t matter how hard I work to everyone else I’m just a bad imitation of you.”

Henry’s eyes are wide and very blue and suddenly they are very close. The air feels charged somehow, a faint low hum starts in Alex’s ears and thrums through his blood and he knows on some molecular, cellular level Henry feels it too. The bond between them flaring to life and burning all of their good intentions to ash. Alex wants desperately to kiss Henry and he’s just working though gathering his courage when Henry leans forward and kisses him. Soft, sure and achingly sweet and the sore part of him he just revealed to Henry feels soothed, at least a little.

Henry pulls away and Alex finds himself tilting forward, eager to follow, to keep doing whatever they hell they were doing because suddenly feels as if he’s one half of a puzzle piece slotted into its mate and he wants to keep the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Henry swallows painfully, cheeks reddening and in a moment the prince is up and out of the room.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince short stories highlights & annotations

the training of erasmus

(takes place before book 1: captive prince)

NOTE: this is a weird one. as i read through this short story, i kind of just started taking stock of all the different abuse and indoctrination tactics used against erasmus and the other palace slaves. because there’s a lot of that in this story, and i think it's a good way to understand how erasmus got to be the way that he is. there's some other analysis, but not much. curious to hear thoughts, because i think this story could mean vastly different things to different people.

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

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

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

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include. additional warning that this short story focuses heavily on sexual slavery.

It was right that training here in the palace should be more arduous than in the gardens of Nereus.

brainwashing. i'd call it gaslighting, but these people were groomed to never even question what they're told about the world around them.

He took his morning lessons with Tarchon in one of the small marble training rooms filled with accoutrements that he did not use, because from dawn until the sun reached the middle of the sky, it was the three forms, over and over and over again. Tarchon gave impassive corrections that Erasmus struggled to perform. At the end of each sequence, ‘Again.’ Then, when his muscles were aching, when his hair was drenched in the heat and his limbs slippery with sweat from holding a pose, Tarchon would tell him curtly, ‘Again.’

torture.

‘So Nereus’s prize flower has finally blossomed,’ Tarchon had said on the day of his arrival. His inspection had been systematic and thorough.

no personal boundaries.

‘Your looks are exceptional. This is an accident of birth for which you are not entitled to praise.

no recognition of individual merit.

You are training now for the royal household, and looks are not enough to earn you a place there. And you are old. You are older than the oldest I have worked with.

manipulation through conditional reinforcement (positive and negative).

He had not known what to do, or say. Arriving in the stifled dark of the litter, Erasmus had tried with each painful heartbeat to hold himself still. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over him at the terror of being outside. Outside the gardens of Nereus, the calming, comforting gardens that contained all that he knew of life.

isolation and fear of the unknown to foster dependence.

‘Iphegin slipped on the stairs.’ And then, ‘You think Aden pushed him?’ The joke was awful. There were dozens of male slaves-in-training, but only four wore a golden pin, and Aden and Iphegin were the only two who wore the pin of the King.

competition.

Nereus had always said of him, A man only has to look at him to want to possess him.

that’s a bullshit generalization. i think he’s just convinced himself that everyone else in the world is as fucked up as he is, living in a culture where this is normalized

In the next moment Kallias was throwing his arms around Erasmus, holding him tight, pressing his cheek to Erasmus’s cheek, the highest intimacy allowed to those who were forbidden to kiss.

restriction of bodily autonomy and intimate activity.

‘I’m for the other Prince,’ said Kallias. ‘Kastor.’

i’m shocked that kastor’s type isn’t blondes with blue eyes, since that’s what damen is into

Close as brothers, the trainers said, smiling because this was a charming conceit, young slaves echoing the relationship of their princely masters.

infantilization and patronization. (by the way, it has never been lost on me that patras is called patras)

Erasmus talked hesitatingly and for the first time about his most private feelings

suppression of individuality and emotional expression.

The body knows when it is ready.

i don’t even know what to call this, but it’s fucked up. the idea that a person's physical reactions are more indicative of their desires or state of being than their thoughts or words.

When Iphegin’s room was cleared out and his kithara given to one of the new boys,

so they just completely got rid of him, because someone else pushed him and he got a scar. do you think he lived? what happens if he doesn’t have legal personhood but is deemed unfit as a slave? execution?

‘He was named for Iphegenia, the most-loyal. But they don’t remember your name if you fall.’

SOMEONE ELSE PUSHED HIM. there is no coherent logic of justice here. there doesn't need to be, with how they've conditioned these people.

‘I’m to be Kastor’s welcome when he returns from Delpha.’ He said Kastor’s name with its honorific, as all slaves did when they spoke of those above them, Kastor-exalted.

it’s interesting that pacat didn’t write the honorific into the dialogue, but specified that it was there.

It had never made sense that Kallias was being trained for Kastor. Yet for some reason the Keeper of the Royal Slaves had decreed that his finest slave-in-training should go not to the heir, or the King, but to Kastor.

yeah i think the reason is that the keeper knows kastor is about to kill his dad and brother

‘Damianos doesn’t take male slaves.’ ‘Sometimes he—’ ‘I don’t have your colouring,’ Kallias said, and he opened his eyes, reaching up to put his finger around a curl of Erasmus’s hair.

this isn’t getting a “damen likes blondes” tally

A full performance of The Fall of Inachtos was four hours, and the Hypenor was six, so that every spare moment was spent in internal recitation.

forced repetition, memorization, and recital of prescribed literature.

But that night, he let his mind drift to other poems

good.

In the female gardens, of course, pins were more common. The tastes of the King and his two sons ran along predictable lines.

i don’t want to think about the female gardens

Erasmus was aware of the lingering responsiveness of his body, which he could not touch himself.

denial of bodily autonomy and intimate activities, specifically with one’s self.

Some days he liked it. He liked the ache of it. He liked the feeling that he was denying himself something to please his Prince. It felt strict, virtuous.

makes sense, given the strategic abuse he’s faced. which is fucked up.

He knew . . . he knew the Prince had many slaves. The attendants spoke of this with approval. The Prince had healthy appetites, and took lovers frequently, slaves and nobles too, when the need was on him. That was good. He was liberal with his affections, and a King should always have a large retinue. He knew the Prince’s eye tended to roam, that he was always pleased by something new, that his slaves were looked after, kept in permanent style, while his eye, roaming, frequently fell on new conquests. He knew that when he wanted men, the Prince rarely took slaves. He was more likely to come from the arena with his blood up and pick out some display fighter. There was a gladiator from Isthima who had lasted in the arena for twelve minutes against the Prince before he’d fallen to him, and had spent six hours in the Prince’s chambers, after. He was told those stories too. And of course he only had to choose a fighter and they would yield to him as any slave, for he was the son of the King.

damen’s development throughout the series really is incredible, both in terms of execution and the amount of development that occurred while still feeling believable

What it would be like, to be the receptacle for the Prince’s pleasure?

like you're an object, not a person.

Kallias sang the ballad of Iphegenia, who had loved her master so much that she waited for him though she knew what it meant to do so

using “history” to reinforce instilled values.

‘I want to be taken across the ocean. I want to see other lands. I want to see Isthima, and Cortoza, I want to see the place where Iphegenia waited, the great palace where Arsaces gave himself to a lover,’ he said, recklessly. The yearning inside him crested. ‘I want—to feel what it is to—’ ‘Live in the world,’ said Kallias.

The space between their bodies felt clouded and hot. He understood why those three places on his body were forbidden to him, because all of them began to ache.

Festival food for everyone: the ceremonies of First Night eclipsed anything he had seen in the gardens of Nereus, the height of a slave’s career.

and how fucking bleak is that

Tarchon said, ‘He is fit for a King. I always questioned Adrastus’s decision to send him to Kastor.’

at least there’s some kastor shade in this story. insulting that guy never gets old

Kallias laughed, the sound uneven. ‘Tell me again that we’ll be together. That you’ll serve the Prince and I’ll serve his brother. Tell me how it will be.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Then I will teach you,’ said Kallias, and kissed him.

seems like kallias figured it out

Standing two paces away, Kallias was holding Erasmus’s golden pin in his hand where he’d torn it from the silk.

oh.

‘You can’t serve the Prince now, you’re tainted.’ The words were sharp, jagged. ‘You’re tainted. You could scrub at it for hours and you’d never wash it off.’

‘You said you wanted to cross the ocean,’ said Kallias.

this... hits a little too close to some things for me. but i get what the story is saying, and i appreciate it, and it is very sad that this was the best option. i guess i'll just say that if you think any of those kinds of abusive indoctrination and conditioning tactics are normal and happening in your life, they're not normal, and they should not be happening. you deserve better. and you probably won't listen to me or even recognize that at all, because this is real life and institutions like this one do exist and entire lives go to waste and unlike in fiction you can't care about someone hard enough to change that if they don't care about themselves. anyway.

He would never wear a pin, but he would make an excellent table attendant, and perhaps a trainer himself one day, patient with the younger boys.

oh my god the trainers are slaves too.

Astacos said he saw soldiers speaking with Adrastus, asking for the names of all the slaves who belonged to Damianos. Everyone wearing a lion pin was taken away. That’s where we thought you’d be. Not here with us.

so i think kallias did what he did because he knew kastor’s plans and wanted to save erasmus’s life. but i also think, not even considering that, there’s a subtler implication of the tragedy of this existence, in which the closest thing to freedom is excommunication. it’s one thing to leave because you know it’s the right thing to do, even if it’s hard, and that’s not something people groomed and abused under these conditions would be able to just do. but to be sabotaged, in this case, is liberation. i think this story would have been just as effective, if not more effective, if it hadn’t involved kastor’s plot at all. an alternate conclusion: kallias drank the kool aid like erasmus and everyone else for his entire life, was the best of the best and sent to the prince, but then faced abuse and the harsh reality of kastor’s cruelty when serving him. he realizes that this is fucked up and tries to spare erasmus from the same fate, and the sadism from kallias is implied both in his dialogue and appearance, but erasmus himself does not understand. that would be effective without the twist of literally saving erasmus’s life because kastor is going to kill damianos's slaves. because when they're living like this, they don't even have lives to lose in the first place.

It occurred to him, stupidly, that Kallias would know what was happening, that he should ask Kallias, and that was when the screams began.

do you think kallias lived? kastor didn’t kill his own slaves, right? i feel like the story is trying to tell me that kallias dies here, but it doesn’t make sense why that would happen.

final thoughts:

again, i think this honestly would have worked better if the ending had not been the inciting events of capri, but either the implication that as kastor’s slave kallias would live a life experiencing sadism and physical abuse, or erasmus learning that kallias took his own life. i don’t know, i just think i want this to go harder on the institution, rather than this specific situation. yes, damen treated his slaves “well,” but i think the idea of kastor not doing so makes a lot of sense. and if the conclusion is “this system puts cruel people in positions where they can abuse people without free will,” rather than “kastor is bad and killed slaves even though they did nothing wrong,” it just works a lot better for me. i think this story is working on both levels, partially to tie it into the main series, but also quite frankly because this is a sexual fantasy for some people. to me, it's horror and tragedy, and hits way too close to real-life institutions to ever be anything but that. i am guessing that this story was written before prince's gambit and king's rising, where the series's stances become a lot more pronounced and the slave kink stuff becomes almost irrelevant.

the story is well-written, is saying something, and i don't think it's bad. upsetting fiction is not bad fiction. and the world building here does provide more context to the main series. but yeah, i don't see myself reading this short story ever again.

[usmsgutterson]

The Collector - S.R x Hotchner! Reader

Oooookay!! I've developed a little bit of a pattern of having m u l t i p l e spencer reid fics out with only a few days between and I feel like my current wip is going in a direction I don't really like, so this is just a cute little fic because I feel the urge to publish something instead of watching more criminal minds or editing my current wip to fix it's course.

I've had a l o t of thoughts about spencer with hotchner! reader who's also an author and bibliophile, and while yeah, that's the premise for my current WIP, it's also a point in this one (they'll be two different depictions in two different settings) because I just can't stop thinking about it. The concept has me wholly entranced.

The fic title is riffed from the song The Collector by Searows because I listened to that while writing this one and I am simply too lazy to come up with something else.

Fic type - fluff with some hurt/comforty undertones

Warnings - there are mentions of a difficult case (not specified), there are mentions of sharks (hammerheads are blabbed about a la reidsplaining, and thresher sharks are mentioned), and this one is not edited beyond bare bones because I whipped it up in an hour and a half and wanted to get it out as soon as possible.

When Spencer gets home, the part of him that actively seeks you out is a little anxious not to find you in the living room, lounging on the couch while drinking tea and reading a book like you usually are when he gets home after a case, but it takes him a second before he remembers why the routine has changed.

You, a very accomplished author and person both, are writing again. Your agreement with the publishing house that's been with you since you were seventeen states that you have to have one book out every year, and while sometimes your books don't require a lot of research, a fair bit of the time they require at least or two of it before the drafting process begins.

And, Spencer remembers, you like to write in what he knows to be your domain--since you'd moved into a house that was almost too big for just the two of you, you've had a little home library. It's floor to ceiling with shelves, and the ceilings are pretty freakin' high out, taller than Spencer is by around four feet. You need a ladder to get to some of the stuff you read, and the walls are lined with more than 1,000 books that both you and Spencer had read in varying languages.

He sets his messenger bag down at a chair in the dining room table and pretty much makes a beeline for you from there--it's been a tough case. He's spent the last two weeks in Nevada and while he did get the chance to see Ethan while he was there, the case itself took a toll on his mental health and he just wants to steal one minute of your time.

He opens the door quietly in an effort not to disturb you, but it hardly works. You turn around when the door croaks because the hinges are rusted to hell and neither you or Spencer has had the time to put some WD-40 on them to stop the squeaking.

When you see him, your face breaks out into a grin. "Hey, Spence," you greet. He steps into the room, closing the door behind him as you approach, and like you know exactly what he needs, you pull him into a tight hug.

"How'd you know?"

"Aaron texted," you answer. "While you guys were on the way back--said you looked a little worse for wear. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answers. "Just--case took a lot out of me, and I really missed you."

You've developed, over the last ten years of the relationship, the sort of innate ability to read Spencer like he's an open book, and you know he doesn't really want to talk about it so you don't push him.

"I'm right here," you respond, squeezing him just a little. You've missed him too, while he's been gone, but that feels like bullshit because you always miss him when he's away. Every single time, without fail, when you have to go to bed alone, you find yourself putting on one of his work shirts because it smells like him and spending the night all yearny because you miss him until you fall asleep.

When you pull away, your head tilts on instinct. "You okay?" You ask again. "What are you thinking? I can see the cogs turning in that handsome brain of yours, Spence."

"I'm sorry for interrupting," he says. "I know that you're working, Y/N, and--"

"You're not interrupting anything," you answer. "Aaron told me you'd be coming back today and I've been hopped up on caffeinated tea waiting for you to get home. I've been trying to do a bit of research with regards to the book I'm supposed to start next week, but I haven't been able to focus because you're the only thing I can think about."

Spencer smiles softly, and you turn your laptop off and then shut it before pulling him back in.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck before you can stop yourself, really--you've missed him like hell, and when you feel him do the same to you, you know that he's really been through hell since he was last in Virginia.

The two of you hug for a lot longer than either of you initially expect. You don't pull away until Spencer does, which must be fifteen minutes gone.

"We're staying in tonight," you murmur, e/c eyes meeting his brown ones. "Ordering pizza or pasta or--something good, and we're going to watch the shark documentary we saw on Netflix the day before you left."

"You've decided, have you?" Spencer asks, a teasing smile threatening to poke at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," you nod. "And Penelope sent me her recipe for carrot muffins so I'm gonna make those to eat as a snack, and I've really missed your voice so I--just talk, Spence. Please."

You're grabbing him by the hand and leading him out to your kitchen as you speak, and when he starts rambling per your request, you're grabbing a mixing bowl and a spatula.

"Hammerhead sharks are a lot more interesting than they seem," Spencer begins. "Their scientific name is Syphrnidae, they keep to a carnivorous diet and they live 20-30 years on average while in the wild. They use their heads to help them hunt for their food, which is primarily stingrays as well as other kinds of rays, squids and crustaceans that live on the ocean floor. There are nine different species of hammerhead and with a length of an average 13-20 feet, the great hammerhead is one of the largest sharks in the world and it's the largest species of the nine in the Syphrnidae family."

As he talks, you get yourself busy with the baking, happy to let Spencer ramble until he runs out of breath because you've missed the sound of his voice. By the time the carrot muffins are in the oven, he's moved from hammerhead sharks to thrasher sharks and when you've closed it, he's stopped talking and is just--looking at you like you're the love of his life.

"What?" You ask, noticing his gaze.

Spencer shakes his head as though he means to clear his thoughts from it, shrugs, and says, "nothing."

You laugh. "I call bullshit," you say. "Just because my brother went on to be one of the profilin' types and I became an author doesn't mean I can't read you like an open book, Spence. What's going on in your head?"

He leans against the counter top, crosses his arms over his chest, and smiles.

"You fell in love with "one of the profilin' types", Y/N," he says. "And, yeah, you can read me like an open book. Never thought to be closed around you, and a decade gone, I am reaping the benefits."

"Yeah?" You ask, putting your dishes into the sink and giving them a rinse so that they're not mucky when they go into the dishwasher. "How so?"

"I'm home after two weeks on one of the roughest cases of my career," he says. "And I get to come home to you. That makes me feel lucky in and of itself."

"Yeah?" You repeat, turning to him with a grin as you wipe the water off of your hands and onto the nearest dry washcloth. "You're sure that the whole--the whole double PhD in Creative Writing and Psych, or the multiple pieces I've written that've been put into reputable news sources, or all of the books I've written since we met when I was nineteen and you were twenty--that has fuck all to do with it?"

He reaches out, his hands gracing your hips with a touch so delicate that it's almost intoxicating. "I fell in love with you for you, Y/N," he says. "Not your accomplishments, though boasting about you does have it's bonuses."

Your arms wrap around his shoulders. "I love you too, Spence."

"Because of my genius, or in spite of it?"

"Because of it, but it's not the only reason," you murmur. "I love you because of how kind you are, how courageous you are in the face of danger. I love you for your occasional sarcasm and the rambles that it seems nobody else in your office really enjoys. I love you because of earl grey tea on sunday mornings and forehead kisses when you're coming home from a case at three in the morning. I love you for who you are, not everything you've done."

When he finally kisses you, he tastes like earl grey tea and mint, and you love it--you love him so much that it just about consumes you whole, but you're happy to let it if it comes to that.

When Spencer pulls away, his brown eyes meeting yours just before your foreheads touch, he breathes in.

"It's good to be home," he whispers. "Amazing to be home, actually."

You laugh, kissing him quickly before turning your attention to the living room. You take him with you, the two of you waddle-walking because you don't want to separate after days spent only communicating through phone calls and facetimes.

When you finally plop onto the couch, you let yourself be held by him, and man, does it feel amazing.

[valentinoswhore]

Im thinking about starting escorting.. can you share your experience so far? I’m also based in Europe.

Sure thing, darling 💕

My experience has been mostly positive. With a profile on the most well-visited / busiest escorting website of my country, I get a lot of traffic. I only do out-call (visiting people in their homes) as opposed to doing in-calls (people visiting you), but this is of course simply a preference. I have never had a client roughhouse me, and I have never had an actually bad experience. Sure, some clients have been a bit disappointed in me (someone was disappointed that I wasn't 100% familiar with intimate massages, for example, even though I straight up told him I didn't really know what constituted an intimate massage). I have had clients who complained about condoms and payment, of course. Men like to complain about those things. I always make sure to state in my profile (several times, if possible) that everything penetrative sex is with condom only, and that payment is the first thing that happens when I step into the client's home. I also say this to the specific client if I suspect they might not have read my profile, but only seen my pictures, because that happens a frightening amount of times.

I have, of course, also had really generous clients who didn't fuss about condom or payment, who were well-mannered and freshly showered. All that good stuff!

I have a group chat with a few select, trusted IRL friends in my own country, whom I text the following:

Name and full address of the client

How long the booking is scheduled to be

When I leave my own home

When I arrive at the client's place

And one final time when I leave the client's place

This is obviously not to expose the client or whatever other bullshit they will whine about, but it's for my own damn safety. I need to be trackable just in case some shit happens, and we need to get the police involved.

Screening your clients. I don't know how to best screen your clients, but I always check their name and address through their phone number. If something doesn't add up, or if I get the slightest bad vibe, I simply will not meet up with them. I might give them an explanation for why I won't meet with them, or I might simply say "sorry, love, I'm busy 💕" or something to that effect.

Always do your best to look your best for every single appointment (unless something else has been requested by the client). Shower thoroughly, wash your hair and important bits, do a bit of makeup if that's your thing (unless, again, the client has requested something specific).

Always always always check what the tax laws are for your country. For me to do this legally, I needed to start my own company, and while that process was fairly simple, there are a lot of laws and regulations on that whole thing. Taxes are also fairly simple, at least here in my country; you "just" need to do invoices and a bunch of paperwork for every single one of your bookings.

I realize this turned into more of an advice post than experiences post - I deeply apologize for that 😅 If you have any other questions, you can always send me another ask!

I hope you have a fantastic day 💕 And good luck on your escorting journey if you do decide to do it! I'm always happy to help if I can 💕

[2rats1gogh]

Hi! I wanted to know your opinion of Jacaerys. I always see that Team Black believes that he would have been a good king and it is also mentioned in the text, I, on the other hand, like to analyze what I read and draw my own conclusions. This guy's decisions were largely...bullshit. The first one that comes to my mind is the idea of riding their dragons and not sending ravens because then everyone would know they were "Targaryens" because only Targaryens ride dragons...then he proceeds to propose the idea of dragon seeds with bastards who haven't lived with his privilege claiming and riding dragons...and we already saw how it turned out. He also seems to me to be a very bad negotiator since to get support or maintain it he had to make quite important concessions and promises. The idea of sending away their little half-brothers who are not old enough to defend themselves and who only have little Stormcloud, when Rhaena and Joffrey were perfectly fine in the Vale does not seem logical to me. I always see that he died trying to save his half-brothers but this is not mentioned anywhere, Vermax decided to fly low...yes, but at no time is it mentioned that it was to rescue Viserys, I have read this fragment in the books that talk of the subject, not only fire and blood and it does not appear, I don't know if the source is this video that appeared on YouTube years ago where the Strong Boys had Valyrian traits 😂 there we see the credibility. They also say that he saved Aegon but the truth is that he was saved by his dragon... who did not allow himself to die until he was safe in Dragonstone, this decision did not have any positive impact on his half-brothers, rather it condemned them, Aegon to live with the guilt that did not belong to him and Viserys to be married at the age of 12...after spending years kidnapped.

Then there is the issue of Driftmark, something tells me that the legitimization of Addam and Alyn and consequently setting aside Joffrey as heir to House Velaryon was Corlys' condition to maintain his support, the people of team black usually say that this is so because Joffrey couldn't inherit the throne and also Driftmark (😂 sure, Corlys would be very upset if he was really his grandson) but Jacaerys was also alive when this agreement was reached. In short, I do not see brilliance or political cunning anywhere, besides the fact that with his condition as a bastard he should not have rights to the throne, but in his case no one speaks of usurpation to his half-brothers Aegon and Viserys, to Alicent's children and even Daemon's daughters, who had more inheritance rights than him and his two brothers, in the end his claim was based on a very very bad lie.

The dance is very poorly written, the truth is that this fact should have had more impact, I understand that they were going to die and George did not worry, but that Rhaenyra continued to be heir and retain so many supports being a woman with three very obvious bastards in a feudal society....It doesn't seem credible to me at all.

They give the example of English Anarchy but the truth is that it has nothing to do with it. Matilda had no siblings and it was a cousin, son of her father's sister, who claimed the throne. She also had no bastards, she had no children from her first marriage, in fact in the end it was her legitimate son, who she had with her second husband, who ended up on the throne and she fought more for his claim than for hers. It is not as similar as Team black points out, there are quite a few differences, Matilda and Rhaenyra are not the same.

Have a good Saturday! 🫶🏻

Hii sorry for the late response, hope you had a great Saturday yourself!

As much as I am a team green supporter, I never really hated Jace that much. My only real issue with him was him bringing the knife when Baela end Rhaena said that they’re going after Aemond. That’s it. He was never as awful as Luke, but he wasn’t that likable either tbh.

Imo we simply never got to know Jace well enough to say whether or not he would’ve been a good king. There is pretty much no evidence to suggest that he would. He might’ve been a good brother and a good son but that wouldn’t automatically make him a good ruler.

I think people are just mainly saying this because he is Rhaenyra’s firstborn and they are gaslighting themselves into thinking that Jace would’ve been a great king and so it’s a win for Rhaenyra when in reality we can’t say for sure. As you said, he did make some questionable decisions throughout the story. He was still pretty young, so he could’ve either matured into a wise and just king, or power and ambition could’ve corrupted him.

I think Rhaenyra’s bastards, and Jace mainly, are interesting only because they died in horrible ways. As soon as they were born (outside of marriage), they were doomed. And that’s their whole personality unfortunately. They have nothing interesting to offer other than being Rhaenyra’s doomed bastards. And Jace is just that.

And if we’re being honest, I don’t think the realm would’ve accepted him as a king. The rumors were there and people were talking. Sooo….. idk.

And you are absolutely right about Matilda!!! Her situation is entirely different from Rhaenyra’s in pretty much every way:

a) a cousin via aunt is not the same thing as half-brother via same father-king

b) Matilda didn’t have any other siblings whatsoever and was named heir because she had none, Rhaenyra did have three male siblings

c) Matilda didn’t have any illegitimate children

d) Matilda didn’t marry her uncle

e) Matilda didn’t try stealing her husband’s nieces’ inheritance

I can definitely see the inspo but it’s just not the same thing on so many levels

[scarlet--wiccan]

Hi, do you know why people compare Wanda and Jean Grey (actually, I don't read comics with Jean Grey)? And what do you think of people comparing them?

I really, REALLY don't want to talk about this. The constant comparison between these characters comes down to two things, both of which are super annoying, and, in my opinion, not worth dignifying with any serious conversation. I try really hard to stay out of this because I find it so completely insufferable, so let this be the last time I ever have to bring it up.

First and foremost, Jean and Wanda are both women, and they are both very powerful. There is a large and vocal portion of comic book fandom, particularly modern fandom on twitter, that loves to pit female characters against each other like they're pop stars and this is some kind of stan war. Comic book fans in general are also fixated on "powerscaling"-- the subjective hierarchal ranking of characters based on apparent power levels, positions in the cosmology, etc. That sort of debate is futile and usually leads to readings of, and conversations about comics that are completely out of touch with the text, and miss the point of the actual story. From what I have noticed, this is what drives most of the conversations about these two.

While those conversations are mostly happening among comic fans, a big part of why these two characters are connected in people's minds is the M C U-- for many years, the movie version of Wanda had powers that basically amounted to telepathy and telekinesis, which drew a lot of obvious comparisons to Jean. The fact that she's a white redhead who dresses like Famke Janssen's Dark Phoenix didn't help. For some reason, this has translated into a perceived rivalry between the characters-- who, just to emphasize, aren't real people-- and their fanbases, rather than criticism of the poor and racist adaptation.

If you're actually looking at the source material, there really isn't much overlap between Jean and Wanda. They don't interact very often, and their stories and powers are quite different. There is some interesting connective tissue, both in-universe and behind the scenes, and I think they're both really important case studies in how ultra-powerful female characters are treated in the genre. But most people skip over all that stuff and jump straight to comparing the Dark Phoenix Saga to House of M, when that's not even the correct parallel-- Darker Than Scarlet is much more similar to DPS and may have actually been a rip-off of it. My point is that these conversations have more to do with bullshit that was invented within fandom than any relevant or meaningful reading of the characters.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again-- Wanda has more in common with Madelyne and Illyana than Jean, and she has more in common with Raven than Zatanna. People always compare her to the wrong characters.