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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

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

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

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

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

#pluralistic #moral injury #enshittification #worker power #google #dont be evil #monopoly #sam altman #openai #vocational awe #making a dent in the universe

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sailoryooons · 2 years ago

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Knocked | ksj | (m)

☾ Pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. reader

☾ Summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

☾ Word Count: 10,673

☾ Genre: Roommates to lovers, smut, humor

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they’re both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!

☾ Published: January 19, 2023

☾ A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN’T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Room for Rent Collab

A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last.

Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.

The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments.

It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit.

Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest.

Your neighbors must hate you.

Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful.

Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect.

Except for the constant gaming.

“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?”

“Check the microwave, nerd.”

He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate.”

“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”

“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”

Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?”

“Mmmm never.”

“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”

“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”

“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game.

Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it.

He did really want to play at least once, with you though.

“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”

As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway.

“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.

Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer.

It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even.

Things are good.

Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined.

If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d-

Mark: Come by my office, please.

Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.

At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”

It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”

The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom.

Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable.

The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse.

With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”

“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”

“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.”

“Makes sense.”

“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?”

“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”

“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”

“Yes.”

And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think.

“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”

You give him one slow blink. Then another.

“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.”

“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.”

Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for.

Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud.

“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.”

Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit.

“Fucking perfect.”

Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual.

A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel.

“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”

“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”

“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”

“Well, I was in the shower!”

“Obviously!”

For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”

“I will! Jeez!”

You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new.

As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute.

With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you.

It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen.

Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.

“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“A great voice to go with a great face right?”

“Ew, here we go.”

He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”

“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”

He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”

Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”

“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.”

“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”

“No, I get plenty of that.”

“So why do you need a roommate?”

Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.

It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”

Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”

“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”

“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.

You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming.

Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe.

“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”

Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.

Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.”

“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”

Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now.

Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream.

Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.

In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat.

A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt.

Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”

Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning.

You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face.

Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you.

With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.

The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed.

By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices.

A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around.

Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.

Because of all the fucking meetings.

The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors.

Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets.

Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes.

The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”

“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”

“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”

“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.”

With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.

“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”

You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”

“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”

He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”

“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”

He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”

Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“W-what?”

“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.

“I am not.”

“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.”

“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face.

Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.

Except recently.

The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch.

And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.

You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more.

But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place.

The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner.

Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening.

When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls.

Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.

Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up.

So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout.

Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.

Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.

“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“

The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup.

“Holy shit, woman! What?”

You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline?

Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”

“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”

“Then stop screaming!”

“You’re the one screaming!”

“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”

Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”

“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.”

“I mean. Yeah, but-”

“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.”

“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”

“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!”

“Make me!”

“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?”

This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?”

Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.”

“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”

“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.”

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”

“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.”

Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”

He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.”

Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room.

There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game.

It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement.

Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match.

Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”

“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”

“Really? Newbie.”

“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.”

He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”

“A bit.”

“They play Apex that much too?”

“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?”

“Loba.”

“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.”

The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?”

“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Whatever. Ready up.”

Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing.

Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.

As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.

Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily.

“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”

“Energy. Preferably the volt.”

“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.”

“You snipe with Wraith?”

“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?”

He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair.

“Two zero.”

“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.

Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player.

“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”

You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.”

He snorts. “Sure.”

For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.

“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.”

“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”

“Hey, that was my kill!”

“You only knocked him!”

“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”

“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”

“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”

“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”

“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”

“I know what you meant.”

You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear.

Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left.

I know what you meant.

The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.

And you have no inclination of what he meant.

Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate.

Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring.

“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.”

“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”

“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?”

“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.”

Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again.

“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”

You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.”

“If they see you?”

“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”

And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot.

“They’re both cracked.”

“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.”

His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”

“Fuck that I want to win!”

“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”

It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”

“Stop missing!”

“Knocked motherfucker!”

“Got it!”

Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go.

The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours.

A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.”

Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.

“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”

“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”

“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”

You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good.

But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”

He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.”

Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?”

“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.”

A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.”

Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.

Crush crush crush crush.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”

Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession.

He confused. That he has a crush.

For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.

Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-

It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended.

So maybe -

You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”

“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes, I think I… included that?”

You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”

He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”

“Kiss me.”

“What now?”

“Kiss me!”

There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet.

Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb.

The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises.

“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.”

You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over.

The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart.

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again.

Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.

“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.”

“Do you want some help with that?”

His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.

Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock.

“No underwear?”

“They’re - nggg - restricting.”

His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension.

“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”

“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”

It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes.

And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip swollen and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs.

Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle.

At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the dark, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs.

Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth.

Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go.

“Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.”

You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently.

Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.

Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum.

Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses.

Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward.

Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it.

Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple.

“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”

He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated.

You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.”

“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”

“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.”

“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.”

He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.”

“Because you said please.”

With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.”

Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt.

It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again.

“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”

His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach.

It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy.

And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.”

With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark.

“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once.

Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”

“Cause your cock is fucking big!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No, but please fuck me.”

You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes.

Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open.

It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans.

You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach.

“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.” He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips. The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.

You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.

When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps.

“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.”

He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it.

“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”

You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”

“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”

“Did you have an emo phase?”

“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”

You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.”

“That I can agree with.”

#seokjin smut #jin smut #jin bts smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #jin fanfic #jin x reader #roommate jin #bts fanfic #jin x you #minors dni #minors do not interact

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a-doubleh-x · 8 months ago

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Why I like Charlastor

The other day I noticed there was some negativity in the Charlastor tag, including antis and people feeling the need to defend against antis, so I thought I might as well take a step back and just write candidly about why I like the ship.

I only got into Hazbin in October of last year, but already it has inspired me a lot to write and fantazise about it. Like most people, I started with the classic "they look cute together", but as I kept looking I couldn't help but think there was something else to these two than first met the eye.

For starters, I love Pollyanas! I think they get a bad rep for being naive, but I just appreciate an optimist like Charlie who just wants to make people around her happy because it makes her happy. I also like bad boys 😳 I'm a pretty heteronormative guy, so I haven't had a big chance to explore that part of myself yet, but I do like the danger and excitement someone like Alastor brings to the table.

I will admit when I started writing Charlastor I felt like I was handling dynomite. It's a lil scary to ship a boundless altruist with a manipulative sociopath, but bear with me.

I think each of them has something the other needs. I think Charlie needs someone to challenge her, someone to steer her in the right direction while she's mostly isolated. At the start of the series, practically nobody but Vaggie takes her seriously, and Alastor is no exception. He mocks her, teases her, but she still listens and I think it's because somewhere deep down she understands there's something he's trting to communicate in his annoying, but curious way.

Of course, I also love the fanon Charlie who's down bad for Alastor, and even if that Charlie is a little naive, I think it's also sweet and she can use some indulgence while most people treat her like a child.

On the other hand, when it comes to Alastor, this is a bit of a theory on my part, but I think he's secretely lonely. He has friends, certainly, like Rosie and Mimzy, but they're not good enough friends to live together with him. They don't seem to be able to save him from "pure, absolute boredom". But Charlie, for some reason can, even though she's a stranger at the beginning when Alastor chooses to move into the Hotel.

Alastor is not as much of a cynic as someone who chooses to see things in a perspective that benefits him. He doesn't think redeeming sinner is "hopeless", but "hilarious" instead, which has interesting implications to me. That's why he chooses to hover around Charlie, not because he thinks she's lame, rather because he thinks she's silly. She makes him laugh. Which I think is kind of how Alastor sees "love".

And then you have fanon Alastor who, depending on the writer, is either a horny animal, a wisecrack edgelord or a soft boy who's mean to everyone but Charlie XD I like several of those interpretations, but I kinda prefer mine just out of personal taste. I think the best part about Alastor is that he doesn't *care* what anyone thinks of him and always does what he wants, even at the expense of other people, which I find pretty enviable.

They're kinda both outcasts in their own ways. Charlie by being unable to fit in and Alastor being unwilling to compromise. But they don't judge each other. He supports her in his own weird way and she houses him and is delighted of him in general, which is tasty food for his ego. I do wonder why Alastor is interested in Charlie, both in canon and in a fandom vacuum.

There's some cool potential for drama there, but also growth and healing, in my opinion. Personally, I think Alastor doesn't want to actually *hurt* Charlie, but he may hurt those around her, which will be a moment to start settling compromises if Charlie puts her foot down.

That haz bin my review so far! I'm honestly pretty grateful for Vivziepop for all of the work she's done so far, I know directing, animating and writing two shows over the course of 5 year or so ain't easy. I'm also grateful to the fandom who shares their thoughts and vision, which calms the terrible voices I started hearing in my head since I bought this weird old radio.

I'm in the middle of a break, but if you're interested in my fanfics I'll get back to writing very soon. Cheers! 🌈❤🦌

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #alastor hazbin hotel #charlastor

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flowerandblood · 9 months ago

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The Doubt & The Delight

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

This is the last part of this story. Thank you all for such a nice reception of this entire mini-series, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but as usual it turned out to be something more! This is probably one of my favorite works here and I can't wait to hear your opinions.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night, after what had happened between them, he sobbed silently for the first time since the day of the accident in which his parents died. He didn't know what else he could do − he felt helpless and couldn't sleep, despair completely possessing his heart and mind.

Don't ever touch me again.

We are even.

He clenched his eyelids, letting the tears run down the sides of his face onto the pillow lying under his head.

Some part of him wanted to go to her door, to fall to his knees and beg her to open it for him, to let him hold her close, to fall asleep in her embrace.

He needed her so much, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her.

She was doing more than she had to anyway.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening; stupefied by the sedatives and painkillers for a moment he had no idea where he was or who he was − he raised himself up on his elbow and hissed, feeling his head ache incredibly.

He opened his eyelids and immediately closed them, blinded by the light from the windows − he gave up with a sigh laying back on the couch, trying to calm himself down.

"Daeron?" He called out loudly, trying to remember what had happened, whether he had drunk too much alcohol the evening before or overdosed on sleeping pills.

He heard someone's footsteps and froze when he saw her frightened face; she came towards him with her eyes wide open as if looking at a ghost, stopping at a safe distance.

"− I'm just helping him change, we'll come soon − God, how pale you are, should I call the doctor again? −" She muttered clearly genuinely horrified by his condition, but he shook his head quickly.

"− did you call the police yesterday? −" He asked lowly, thinking with horror that no one at the prosecutor's office could find out that he was still struggling with his trauma and had almost caused a car crash.

She shook her head quickly, playing with the fingers of her hand in a nervous gesture.

"− n-no − the man we almost collided with wanted to do it at first, but when we got out of the car and said you'd fainted he called an ambulance and let it go − he apparently decided you'd just had some sort of attack and didn't want to add to our problems −" She replied once looking him in the eye, once looking away − he could see that she clearly wasn't coping with the situation or what had happened between them.

He sighed in relief, running his hand over his face, thinking about the fact that securing Daeron's fate was now his priority and he needed to pull himself together.

"− I'm going to go help Daeron and we'll make something for breakfast soon −" She said quickly and turned away, moving down the corridor towards his little brother's room, disappearing behind the door.

The two of them had tried not to look at each other all morning, heartbroken and horrified by what had happened between them − they both felt that their lives had slipped out of their control and he resented himself for dragging her into it all.

The doctors advised him to stay at home for a few days and rest, so he called Alys to ask her to bring him his documentation.

"− sick leave? − something happened? −" She asked concerned, and he sighed heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, not having the strength for this discussion.

"− I've been overworking lately, I need to slow down − can I count on you? −" He asked matter-of-factly, hearing her snort of amusement on the other side.

"− sure − I'll be there in half an hour −" She replied calmly and hung up; he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and put the phone down on the table top.

He glanced over his shoulder, hearing the sizzle of the pan and shuddered meeting her gaze − she lowered her eyes immediately as if caught in the act, concentrating on not burning the pancakes, Daeron wheeled around her in his wheelchair placing clean plates and cutlery beside her.

They ate breakfast together, both of them really only talking to Daeron, passing cups and juice to each other out of politeness only. He felt a pleasant shudder when his fingers touched hers, looking her straight in the eyes − her lower lip twitched a little, only a quiet, sad thank you came out of her mouth.

As they ate Daeron said he would do his own homework and then change her to look after him, as if he was now the one to take on the role of his caretaker.

As he left his Esmeralda stood up, picking up the dirty dishes from the countertop − he took his plate from her hand, swallowing hard.

"− no need, I'll do it − I'm better now, I don't want to force you to stay here any longer than necessary − thank you very much −" He said in a low voice, getting up from his seat and stepping around her, opening the dishwasher with a light movement, tossing in the cutlery and other dirty dishes she'd held earlier.

He felt her looking at him, his heart pounding like crazy, for some reason he wanted to cry again.

"− I'm sorry − for what happened yesterday −" She muttered in a whisper and he raised his shocked gaze to her, frozen still.

She stood in front of him covering her mouth with her hand, trying to silence the loud, ragged breath that shook her body along with the sob that wanted to break from her throat, tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes one after another.

God, she was remorseful.

"− no − no, stop − you didn't do anything wrong, I wanted it −" He said quickly, but she shook her head.

"− I couldn't sleep − I felt awful −" She uttered with difficulty, choking on her own tears, and despite her telling him never to touch her again he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him in one sure movement − her body did not put up any resistance to him, her fingers tightened on his sweatshirt in a helpless gesture.

"− I-I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you −" She mumbled out and burst into quiet sobs.

He thought with despair that he had broken this poor girl, brought her to a state where she felt like an abuser.

He embraced her tightly, snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck, stroking her back reassuringly − her wonderful scent and the warmth of her body had a soothing effect on him, he thought he wanted to remember this moment for a lifetime.

"− I'm the one who hurt you − I took something away from you and you tried to get it back − you asked me if I wanted it and I made it clear that I did − easy − breathe deeply − it's all right −" He whispered in a trembling voice, running his large hand through her back and hair. She snuggled into him so tightly that he felt tears under his eyelids himself − he pressed his lips together not wanting to let them flow out but it was no use.

"− thank you for everything − I'm feeling better now, I'll be fine by the time Helaena arrives − go home and get some rest − I'll think of something and explain to Daeron why you can't work for us anymore − I'll send you your pay by transfer so you never have to see me again − hm? −" He asked softly and she only nodded, her whole chest trembling in convulsion as she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

He wanted to tell her that she was the most wonderful person he had ever met.

He wanted to tell her that if she ever needed help, she could always count on him.

He wanted to do that, but he only flinched when he heard the doorbell ring, reminding himself of Alys − they moved away looking at each other in pain, the sight of her wiping her cheeks red from tears broke his heart.

He realised that he was a monster.

As soon as he opened the gate for her, Alys walked into his house with thick folders of documents in her hands, looking elegant as usual in her jacket, long trousers and high heels. She smiled at the sight of his Esmeralda, and she pressed her lips together realising with horror that she stood dressed only in his hoodie.

"Good morning. We don't know each other yet." Alys said to her and held out her hand to her − she, not knowing what to do, herself embarrassed by the situation and how it looked shook her hand, squeezing it firmly.

"Good morning." She muttered and just threw to him that she was going to go see how Daeron was doing with his homework − Alys led her away with her eyes looking at her with a calm, curious expression on her face.

"Who is this beautiful little flower? In addition wearing your hoodie I think." She asked amused, a note of mock accusation in her voice, as if she had solved the equation. "Is it because of her that you can't concentrate lately?"

He threw her one warning, sharp look, which did not deter her, however − he sighed heavily and shook his head.

"She's Daeron's caretaker and she had to stay here to help me take care of him after I fainted yesterday. They were at a carnival ball together and she had nothing to change into." He replied coolly, wanting to end the subject quickly, frustrated.

"Is that why you both cried?" She asked lowly raising an eyebrow, the piercing look in her bright green eyes told him clearly that she felt the tension that hung in the air between them. He swallowed loudly, looking away, not wanting to look at her smile full of satisfaction.

"Thank you for bothering to come all the way out here. I'll be gone for a week, we're in touch." He replied dryly − she threw over his shoulder that if he needed her for anything he could count on her and smiled at his Esmeralda heading for the exit, saying it was a pleasure to meet her.

As the door closed behind her there was an awkward silence between them. He saw that she was wearing his hoodie and shorts that were too loose on his brother but on her they fit perfectly despite the manly cut, in her hand she held the bag with her costume.

She was leaving.

He will never see her again.

"Are you sure you can manage?" She asked uncertainly, not looking at him. She seemed pale to him, he thought that for some reason Alys' visit had saddened her, but he didn't even dare assume it might have had anything to do with him.

At most, she might have thought he was a bigger bastard and pervert than she suspected.

"Yes, we'll be fine. Thanks again." He muttered, trying not to look at her, but to poor effect, thinking only of how wonderful it was to hold her in his arms, how tightly she snuggled into him seeking refuge and comfort.

He realised that he craved such closeness from her as much as the touch of her naked body.

He wasn't just about sex.

She, however, merely nodded, raising her sad, tired, embittered gaze at him once more, and after a moment she turned and disappeared behind the door.

The hours leading up to Helaena's arrival he spent with Daeron, playing together FIFA'23 and other games that his brother thought would distract him from all the unpleasant events of the past weeks.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine. You just need to rest. It's good that you and Esmeralda have reconciled." He said clicking beside him on his pad, trying to win a race against him on the big space track. He swallowed hard, thinking with pain and shame that they hadn't reconciled at all, that they weren't even.

What she did was a desperate attempt by her to regain what he had taken from her, the feeling that she had power over her own body.

It didn't bring her any relief though − it seemed to him that it made her feel even worse.

She wasn't like him − she'd probably never behaved like this before, and she was horrified to find that she didn't recognise herself.

He had destroyed her, taken away her innocence, devoured her.

He pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning tears that forced their way under his eyelids from flowing and grunted loudly, trying to focus on the game.

As he prepared the room where his sister was to sleep, and where his Esmeralda had previously spent the night, he noticed a purple cloth lying on the floor. He reached out and picked it up, realising after a moment that it was a scarf she had worn on her head in the form of a headband.

He pressed it to his face and closed his eyes, with a squeeze in his throat thinking that the material was permeated with her scent.

He kept it.

Helaena had arrived straight from the airport in a taxi for which she had paid crores − as soon as she stepped inside she dropped her suitcase, ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. He burst out sobbing, feeling her familiar, tender closeness.

He wasn't sure when was the last time someone had hugged him, stroked him, told him everything was going to be alright, that now he was the one being taken care of.

Taking the opportunity that Daeron was playing in his room on his laptop, they sat side by side on the living room couch to discuss what had happened.

"I think I've stopped coping. I'm slowly losing my self-control." He muttered, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he needed to at least partially throw off what was going on inside his head − he felt his sister stroking his back comfortingly.

"Me and Aegon left you alone with all of this, sinking into our own grief. We all focused on Daeron because we decided you were older and better able to handle it all." She said with pain and some kind of regret, as if she only now realised that he wasn't a fully formed adult then either.

He let the air out of his lungs, feeling like a small, clumsy child again, embarrassed that he wasn't coping, that he had chaos in his head, that he was stuck and unable to get out of the mess he had sunk all the way into.

"I thought it would be good for you to have a change. For you and Daeron to fly with me for a few weeks, get some rest, during which time we can work together to find you some sort of therapist, someone to help you get over all this." She said warmly, and he shook his head quickly, terrified of her suggestion, of having to reinvent himself somewhere, of not being in his home, of not having his things and activities.

"No, I can't do that. I need a rest, but here, at home. I do think, however, that it will do Daeron good to spend time with you, to get away from it all. Maybe when I have a bit of time to myself I can somehow…sort it all out." He muttered, feeling her worried gaze on him.

"You shouldn't be left alone."

"I haven't been alone with my thoughts for five years. I need this." He said regretfully, realising that he had devoted all his strength to his younger brother, leaving himself with nothing.

He felt empty.

"And he needs a change of environment. He sees me gloomy and tired every day. You will help me the most if you take care of him for a week or two so that I can get myself in order."

"You have to promise me that you will go to therapy. You're taking on too much on your shoulders." She said cautiously, and he nodded to her, wanting everyone to finally give him a break.

Daeron was at the same time happy about the sudden unplanned holiday, but on the other hand very worried that he was going to be left alone at home.

"But who will take care of you? Esmeralda?" He asked hesitantly, and he replied that he would manage on his own, that they would talk on the phone every day, that he just needed a bit of rest to think things over.

As they packed to leave he was with them in body, but not in thoughts which drifted far away to her, to what had happened between them.

Despite the fact that they had sex with each other twice, it was the memory of that morning in his kitchen when he held her in his embrace that he remembered most, the innocence and tenderness of that gesture, the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the fact that for a moment she had allowed him to get close to her.

He knew he would never see her again.

Waving them off, already seated in the taxi, watching them drive away he wondered what the point of living such a terrible person like him was.

He cleaned the whole house, sorted the papers in his office, put up the laundry and emptied the dishwasher, doing everything unhurriedly with complete silence all around him, only the sound of the wind outside the windows and the quiet pounding of raindrops against the windowsills.

He finally sat down on the sofa, staring dully ahead, before lowering his gaze to the small container of sleeping pills he'd been taking for days to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He wondered how many he'd have to swallow to not wake up.

He didn't know why his hand reached for his phone − his fingers tapped out a question on Google and, to his surprise, many different topics on forums about how to commit suicide painlessly popped up.

He read statements from some young, desperate, frightened people who couldn't cope with life and responses from others, some encouraging them to commit the act and explaining how to do it, others asking them not to do it, that they would be happy to talk to them, to support them through this difficult time.

He thought of Daeron, of how if he had done it, his little brother would have completely broken down, that it would only add to the pain of his whole family, and that Helaena would never forgive herself for leaving him alone.

That it would have been selfish of him.

On the other hand, his mind reminded him of his aggressive, merciless interrogations, the way he approached witnesses, the way he approached Alys, what he did to his Esmeralda when she recognised at once his malicious, dark nature.

How was someone like him supposed to continue to take care of Daeron? How was he supposed to pretend that he was a good man who could advise him on anything, be his authority?

He thought that his little brother should have stayed with Helaena − she was the calmest of them all, surely she would have handled his parenting much better, given him what he needed.

He reached for a small container of pills and stared at it, turning it between his fingers with a loud rattle, wondering dispassionately what he should do with himself.

He hummed as if he remembered something and slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a thin, purple folded cloth − he looked at it, feeling the need to call her.

He didn't know why he would do that when he was sure she didn't want to see him and couldn't even look at Daeron, to whom he would have to explain why she would no longer be taking care of him upon his return.

He guessed that she would only pick up out of politeness, and he would again flood her with his problems, his suicidal thoughts, forcing her to worry about him, to feel sorry for him even though he didn't deserve her sympathy.

He didn't even know when he unscrewed the container, when he tilted his head and poured its entire contents into his mouth, taking a deep sip of water after this, letting his judgment of himself run deep into his stomach.

He seemed to regain his sanity only after a moment, staring at the empty vessel wondering what he had actually done.

Oh fuck.

God, what had he done?

No, no, no, no.

He went into a complete panic, his heart started pounding like crazy − he didn't know how much time he had before he lost consciousness, so in a gesture of helplessness he dialled her number quickly, wondering if she would answer from him this time.

He thought he was pathetic, but he was scared, there was no one else to turn to − his body was shaking all over from stress and terror, his breathing quick and raspy, tears of fear in his eyes.

Biip.

"− hello? −"

He heard her uncertain voice on the other side and drew in the air loudly, shocked, swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, running his hand over his face.

"− fuck − I − I − I did something very, very stupid − I took a whole packet of sleeping pills − I don't know what came over me − oh fuck, what have I done −" He muttered in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, like a helpless child who had broken a vase and realised what his parent would do to him when they found out.

"− what? − oh God − are you home? − I'm calling the ambulance −"

"− n-no − no, fuck, they'll kick me out of the national prosecutor's office − please −"

"− go quickly to the bathroom and try to induce vomiting − give me the code to your gate, I'll be right there −"

He seemed to act in an amok, as he rose from the couch everything around him swirled − she told him to take his phone to the restroom, so he did.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, shoving two fingers down his throat − after several attempts he finally threw up, whooping with his tears, coughing loudly, his whole body shaking in convulsions, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

How could he do this, how could he be so selfish?

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled, sliding slowly to the ground, feeling his mind begin to envelope in a blissful peace and quiet, her voice coming from the speaker of his phone seemed to him only a distant whisper.

He thought he would take a nap for a while, rest and when he woke up everything would be fine.

It seemed to him that minutes, hours or years might have passed when he felt someone move his body − he shuddered as someone's fingers forced their way between his lips, his numb body powerless to resist.

"− come on, please − get it out of you − God, what have you done − please, please, come on −" He heard her crying beside him, the tips of her fingers pressing against the back of his tongue, until finally his stomach convulsed with a powerful spasm, and his body threw it all out with his throaty cough of exertion.

He heard her sobs, smelled her scent, her closeness, how her hands washed his face with water, how she stroked his head as she hugged him to her breasts, mumbling in despair that he was a fool, something warm and soft enveloped them.

He fell asleep, recognising that this was what heaven must have been like.

When he woke up he felt everything around him spinning − he muttered in displeasure, another cramp squeezing his stomach.

He pulled himself up, in the dark looking for the toilet, at the last moment leaning over it and vomited again, panting loudly, everything around him blurred, it seemed to him that it was morning.

He heard movement beside him − someone's hand touched his back and stroked him with a gentle, affectionate gesture as convulsion again shook his body, which was trying with all its might to rid itself of what he had swallowed the day before.

Nothing more than a mumble left his mouth, his head drooped involuntarily − he felt someone pull him back to keep him from sliding down onto the tiles. He lay down, something soft enveloped him again.

"− it's okay − sleep −" He heard her whisper and thought that the pills he had taken were causing him to hallucinate, that he was probably dreaming it all, and since he was and she wasn't really there he could embrace her, his arm grabbed her waist, his face snuggled between her breasts again with his loud purr of contentment and exhaustion.

He felt her hands embrace him, stroking his head and back − he thought, feeling the hard floor beneath him, that they were lying in the bathroom and she must have brought the duvet and pillows from his bedroom, sleeping in that room with him.

He fell asleep and woke up hearing someone walking around his house, once in a while someone touched his head − he heard her voice asking him some questions that he was unable to focus on − she was only answered by his frustrated sounds indicating that he just wanted to sleep on.

Finally when he opened his eyes he managed to see anything − the bathroom door was open, the light in the room was off. He had a perfect view of the corridor and part of the living room lit up in the sun − he heard someone's footsteps, his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"− hey − hey, how are you feeling? −" She muttered walking up to him and kneeling beside him, her loose hair in a slight disarray, she was wearing shorts and a plain white Tshirt. He looked away from her breasts when he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra, swallowing hard.

He didn't reply, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame, remembering what he had done, how disgusting and selfish he had acted, that he had forced her to help him again despite having caused her such harm.

"− I − I would like to talk to some therapist −" He choked out with tears in his eyes, not looking at her but somewhere in front of him, his breathing shallow and uneven − it seemed to him as if his lungs had completely clenched.

"− alright − alright, I'll look for someone nearby − okay? −" She asked tentatively and he just nodded, unable to look her in the eye. He heard her get up quickly, and a moment later she was back, sitting down next to him with her phone in her hand, typing something quickly on her screen, apparently scrolling through the accounts of doctors who had offices in the same town.

"− there's a Dr Smith, he's got a free appointment in two days at one o'clock in the afternoon, or a Dr Morgan, but he… −"

"− anyone − as soon as possible −" He said dispassionately, looking blankly ahead, heard her swallow hard and click something quickly, heard his phone vibrate beside him on the floor.

"− I've booked you an appointment and sent you details via message −" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"− thank you − you can −"

"− I spoke to your sister on the phone while you were asleep and told her everything − we agreed that Daeron will stay with her and I'll watch over you until your first appointment −" She said coldly with some kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling his body tremble and closed his eyes, wanting to just disappear.

He shuddered, looking at her in disbelief as she slipped her purple scarf out of the pocket of her tracksuit shorts, the same one he'd found on the floor and kept. She tied her hair with it, combing it into a ponytail, staring straight into his eyes.

"I found this on your couch. Did you think of me before you did it?" She asked, with soft, sure flicks of her fingers arranging her curls as she saw fit. He swallowed hard at her question, feeling a burning sense of embarrassment.

"− yes −" He sighed. She let out a quiet breath at his words, placing her hands on her thighs.

"− are you able to get up? −"

With her help he managed to rise with difficulty − he brushed his teeth feeling the still disgusting taste of vomit and acid on his tongue and then lay down on the sofa, grabbing his head. He watched her silhouetted in the kitchen as she opened the cupboards one by one until she found his first aid kit.

He saw her throw away all the packets of sleeping pills he had.

"− hey −" He threw to her wrinkling his eyebrows, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink without them.

"− you'd better not speak −" She said warningly, without giving him a single glance, so he gave in, sighing heavily and closing his eyes, figuring there was no point in arguing.

To his surprise she moved around the rooms as if this was her home, sat down next to him at the other end of the sofa with an apple in her hand and turned on the TV as if nothing had happened. He looked at her, wondering if she was really going to sit here for days, but then decided it didn't matter.

When he finally got the phone call from Helaena he listened to almost half an hour of a litany from her about how irresponsible and selfish he was, only to hear a moment later that she loved him very much and that he needed to start taking care of himself − he assured her several times that he already had an appointment with a therapist, and Esmeralda wouldn't leave his side.

"− is that what you call me? −" She asked quietly after he had hung up, looking at the TV screen on which the news had just been airing. He looked at her surprised, realising that it wasn't actually her real name after all.

"− yes −" He replied lowly, playing with his phone between his fingers.

They didn't talk much to each other apart from the usual basic politeness. After a couple of hours he felt well enough to get up − he was still dizzy and still had no appetite, but he drank plenty of water and thought with relief that the danger had passed.

Evening finally fell and, tired after all that had happened, he simply headed upstairs to his bedroom, wanting to give her some solitude and privacy.

Changing into his pyjamas, which consisted of a simple t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, he shuddered and looked in disbelief at the door to his room when it opened, her figure stepping inside as if nothing had happened, climbing on his bed, lying under his duvet, turning her back to him.

What?

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he should say something or not, but in the end he couldn't resist.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to sleep. I'm tired. Could you turn out the light?" She asked quietly.

He grunted and, as she requested, walked over to the switch, flicking it, complete darkness fell all around them.

The thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed with him, even if only to keep an eye on him, made him instantly hard.

He lay down at a safer distance behind her, looking at her back and neck, knowing that she could feel his breath, but not daring to touch her.

He wondered if she was punishing him this way, showing him that she was at his fingertips, but after what he had done there was nothing else he could do but watch.

It would have been enough for him if he could have just jerked off looking at her, concentrating on her scent and the fact that she was next to him, but he felt he had no right to bring himself relief after all of this.

He didn't deserve it.

That's why he was just dying in agony, writhing − without his pills despite his fatigue he could not fall asleep, on top of that he was too aroused, her closeness was driving him crazy.

"− will you stop squirming? − I can't sleep −" She muttered at last, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with furrowed brows.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in desire at the sight of her face, at the thought that she didn't have a bra under her shirt, that there were her lovely breasts under that material that he could caress all night.

"− sorry −" He just choked out, trying to calm his breathing, his cock pulsed painfully swollen under the material of his sweatpants.

He made big eyes and flinched, embarrassed as she pushed back the duvet that covered them both, her gaze going to his trousers and what was going on inside them.

A tense silence fell between them − he could feel his whole body quivering with desire, grief and shame.

He wondered if she would mock his state and his desperation.

"− we can do it if you want − like civilised people − I'd like to experience some sleep tonight −" She said softly and he looked at her in disbelief, the bulge in his sweatpants twitched hard at her words.

"− are you sure? − I wouldn't −"

"− make me feel good −" She said quietly.

He drew in the air loudly as she said this, grabbing the material of her t-shirt and lifting it, pulling it over her head, revealing her lovely breasts to him.

She sighed loudly when his face immediately pressed against her nipple, alternately sucking and licking it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her back. She moaned quietly, surprised when he pulled her to him, her palms sliding into his hair, holding him close.

They lay on their sides, embracing each other in a tight grasp. He wriggled in disbelief and delight, willing and eager to show her how much he regretted it, how much he desired her, how much he loved her − his hand grasped tentatively her other breast, kneading it with his fingers.

"− so soft −" He gasped, listening to her quiet sighs of pleasure. He felt her throw her leg against his waist, which he grasped confidently, clenching his fingers on her thigh and pulled her closer, letting her feel how much he wanted her, his manhood throbbed impatiently beneath his trousers, hitting her stomach.

"− how −" He asked between flicks of his tongue licking and sucking her hard, puffy nipple like a little child, stroking the soft skin of her hips. He slipped his hand under the material of her shorts, tracing his fingertips over her plump buttocks, wanting to be sure that this time he would do everything the way she needed it, give her pleasure and reassurance, at the pace and the way she wanted it.

She stroked his hair at his question and placed a short, warm kiss on his forehead − he murmured lowly as he felt her begin to rub against him, encouraging him to do the same, his lips letting go of her nipple with a loud plop to look at her.

"− you on top − but touch me down there first −" She whispered embarrassedly, turning onto her back, pulling his arm behind her, looking at him with a gaze hot with desire and affection.

He leaned in, letting his swollen lips brush hers, which responded immediately to his caress, her fingers cupping his neck, deepening the kiss.

"− mmm −" She hummed, squirming beneath him. He ran his hand down her body, in a tentative, unhurried motion slipping his hand under the material of her shorts, wanting to give her time to react, but she sensing this spread her thighs wider, easing his access, his fingers finally running over her swollen, hot, wet womanhood.

"− God, little one − I want to use my mouth here −" He gasped appreciatively, thinking only of the fact that he had been dreaming of this for weeks. He smiled involuntarily when he saw her nod quickly, her sweet, full lips parted in an accelerated breath.

"− okay −" She whispered quietly, letting him slide the material of her shorts and underwear off her − he marvelled at the sight of her naked body, thinking with some kind of emotion that he felt like crying.

"− so beautiful −" He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, on her womb, on her hip, on her thigh, knee and calf. He looked at her and noticed that she was watching him intently, her breasts rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hands on either side of her head.

"− come here −" He murmured softly, in a gentle motion pushing her hips closer to him, spreading them in front of him − he heard her gasp loudly as he leaned over her bared flesh. He let his hot breath envelop her skin before his nose ran over her hot, soft womanhood, his lips lazily clinging to her folds, placing a lingering, sticky kiss on them.

He tightened his hands on her thighs when he felt her throw her head back with a sweet, surprised moan, her fingers traveling to his short hair, stroking it in impatient motion, pressing his face close to her body.

"− please −" She mumbled, and he huffed with amusement, trailing his lips up to her puffy clit, sliding then down to her leaking, swollen slit, teasing her barely, not giving her what she needed.

"− no − we're going to do this very, very slowly − with due respect to you −" He hummed contentedly, feeling some kind of pride that he could do it this way, could give it to her and be what she needed.

She whimpered softly, writhing before him, her breathing quickened and shuddered, her body trembling in his hands, thirsting for fulfilment.

"− don't be cruel −" She mumbled resentfully, as if she thought he was teasing and taunting her. He sighed quietly, placing a warm, hot kiss on her sticky skin − a surprised, loud moan escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue suddenly forced its way inside her, deeper and deeper with each stroke, imposing an intense, fast pace on her.

"− o-oh fuck, yes, lick me −" She mewled, clenching her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips against his face, trying to find a more intense source of rubbing. He smirked under his breath as he discovered after a moment between her fleshy muscles the spot he was looking for, her whines increasingly pathetic and helpless, her walls beginning to throb around his tongue.

He heard her whimper his name, her whole body tensed as if she was trying to break away from him, but he didn't stop, letting her come on his face.

He purred contentedly as he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her tight entrance, determined to make sure he licked every drop and not let anything go to waste despite her cries.

He surprised her when he didn't pull away, but repeated all the steps from the beginning, slowing his pace again, merely teasing her with his lips, her body twitching at his every move, overstimulated and delicate.

"− n-no more − I want you inside me −" She mumbled softly, and he looked up at her, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling her words in his trousers.

Even though he planned to spend the whole night between her thighs, he couldn't refuse such a request.

"− it's okay − there you go −" He hummed, rising to his knees, slipping his sweatpants down just enough to release his swollen, hard erection leaking from his precum. He placed one hand next to her head, the other guiding the fat, pink head of his cock between her widely spread thighs.

"− such a good girl − hm? − my sweet little baby, am I right? −" He cooed and she nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes hazed with desire − it seemed to him that she didn't recognise him, that she didn't believe he was the same man she had met then.

He didn't believe it himself, but it felt wonderful.

They both sighed loudly when, with one slow thrust, he opened her wide on his swollen length, leaning over her, pressing his forehead to hers, her trembling hand rising to stroke his cheek, her lips pressed to his in a warm, innocent kiss.

He murmured contentedly, forcing her to fit all of him inside her with an impatient thrust of his hips − he heard her quiet cry of discomfort and surprise and swallowed loudly feeling his manhood pulsing intensely inside her, so hungry for her closeness.

She closed his waist between her legs, crossing them over his back, and he lay on top of her, pulling his t-shirt off quickly, resting his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her, feeling her little, puffy nipples on his naked chest.

She sighed sweetly, looking up at him dreamily, trailing her fingers down his face and neck as he slipped out of her only to sink into her again a moment later with a loud click of her moisture − she was all wet and warm inside after her intense orgasm, her muscles squeezing him wonderfully from all sides.

"− that's it − just like that - it's okay −" He whispered tenderly, letting himself sink into the taste of her sticky, plump lips again, her hands trailing down his sweaty, muscled back as he involuntarily sped up his pace, pressing his nose to her cheek, slamming into her with more and more sure, brutal thrusts of his hips, groaning low along with her.

"− oh, fuck, baby −" He gasped, listening to her moans of pleasure, her insides wonderfully warm and tight, quivering all over in sensation, soaking him wet. He began to root aggressively into her weeping cunt panting hard, all around them only the loud sound of their moist, naked bodies slapping quickly against each other.

"− please − please − please −" She mumbled out looking up at him with her mouth wide open, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his back − he could feel her walls clench around him tighter, sucking him inside. He shuddered hard at her words, focusing now only on rooting again and again into her warm, fleshy interior.

"− I don't know if I'm going to let you sleep tonight − I think I'd rather do this with you instead −" He breathed out into her mouth, pushing his tongue deep into her throat − he felt her body shake as she convulsed, her hands clenched painfully hard on his body as she came a second time with sweet mewl of effort, panting loudly as if she couldn't catch her breath, her muscles began to throb greedily around his cock, sucking him inside.

He tilted his head back and sighed in relief, a few sloppy, rough thrusts prolonging the inevitable − his warm cum spilled deep inside her, a hot wave of pleasure surging through his lungs.

He crushed her with his body, feeling their bodies quivering and twitching all over, both of them panting hard as if they had run a marathon, their hands running blindly over each other's naked skin as if they wanted to calm and soothe each other.

"− I love you −" He muttered, lying with his eyes closed, his nose snuggled into her hot, soft cheek. "− you know that, don't you? −"

"− yes −" She answered him quietly, and he sighed heavily, snuggling into her like a small child.

That much was enough for him.

He didn't expect anything from her.

He just wanted her to know it.

He spent that night as if in a frenzy, holding her close, embracing her from behind tightly with his arms, their legs entwined together in disarray. He fell asleep with his face pressed against her hair, completely overwhelmed by her wonderful scent, the warmth of her naked body, one of her hands placed on his making sure he didn't let go of her soft breasts.

They hadn't said much to each other after they awoke − when he turned her face towards him and he just sank into her swollen lips in a sticky, hot kiss. She purred sleepily at this caress, her fingertips running over his jaw.

She let him take her a second time then, from behind this time − she was so wet from their shared moisture that he slid into her without much difficulty, stretching her wonderfully tight walls with a sigh of delight.

He rooted into her with lazy, slow thrusts of his hips, making sure that each time the fat head of his cock rubbed her sweet spot, one of his hands playing with her puffy, little nipple, the other sunk deep between her thighs, teasing her swollen clit.

"− do you want me to stop? −" He whispered in her ear, and she shook her head, digging her fingers into his arm with which he embraced her at the waist.

"− n-no − it feels good −" She muttered in embarrassment − he kissed her hot cheek with a sticky click of his saliva seeing her lips parted in accelerated breath, her dreamy, warm gaze.

"− so I'm afraid I'm going to fill you a second time, sweet girl −" He hummed, running the tip of his nose over her pretty face. She moaned quietly at his words, feeling him suddenly speed up, slamming into her with more confident, brutal pushes − she tilted her head back, his lips immediately pressed against her neck.

"− d-don't − don't leave marks −" She mumbled out, quickly clenching her hand in his hair − she whimpered softly as she felt his fingertips dig harder into her fleshy folds.

"− I won't, baby − shhh −" He hushed her, running his lust-swollen lips over her soft skin, feeling her weeping walls squeeze him greedily at his words, forcing him to thrust into her more aggressively, his fingers sinking into her plushy thigh, holding her in place, panting along with her.

"− ah, G-God − She babbled, responding helplessly to his movements with rocking, both of them groaning in pleasure and relief as her muscles began to clench against him in a sudden orgasm, his thighs all sticky with her wetness.

"− yes, that's it − oh baby −" He muttered, letting go, with the last of his strength thrusting into her for a moment more before his seed filled her to the brim.

He hid the tip of his nose in her hair with his eyes closed, panting loudly with pleasure, holding firmly her body trembling in fulfilment in the tight embrace of his arms.

"− can I stay inside you? −" He whispered into her ear and she only nodded, falling into slumber again a moment later.

For the first time in many years he didn't have to get up at dawn, he didn't have to focus on work, on Daeron, on anyone or anything more than himself and her.

He couldn't believe it was really happening.

He lay thinking only of the fact that he was deep inside her, that he could feel her and smell her − he placed one of his hands over her heart wanting to feel how it beat, how her chest rose and fell in calm breaths.

The days before his appointment with the psychiatrist he had spent between her thighs.

She walked around his house wearing nothing but his T-shirt and it was enough for him standing behind her to lift its fabric a little to see her lovely, plump buttocks.

"− stop − we need to eat something −" She muttered as he knelt on the kitchen tiles while she was trying to prepare dinner for them, so that he could kiss her hot, soft skin with a murmur of satisfaction. His hand slipped lower, between her thighs, his fingertips collecting her moisture mingled with his semen, a reminder of what he had been doing to her all day.

"− I adore you −" He gasped, sliding his lips lower, placing warm, sticky kisses on her thighs and calves, he heard her quiet sigh.

"− does your friend know that you have a second lover? −" She asked quietly, and he froze, quickly lifting his gaze to her, understanding immediately that she was talking about Alys.

He didn't want to make a mistake and lie, but he also didn't know how to present it so she would know that it was a done deal for him.

"− I stopped seeing her after what happened between us −" He said softly getting up from his knees, looking down at her, putting an unruly lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "− I didn't see the point in it, because all I was thinking about was you −"

He confessed with a kind of pain and weariness, and she lifted her gaze to him, her bright eyes looked at him piercingly, warm and gentle. He leaned in placing a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead.

She snuggled into his chest as if seeking refuge, and he embraced her kissing the top of her head devotedly, running his large hands down her back in a reassuring, tender gesture.

"− I can't promise you anything −" She said at last, and he swallowed hard, knowing what she meant.

"− I know − I don't expect it −" He whispered, cuddling his face into her fragrant hair, closing his eyes, her closeness and her scent calming him in some strange, incomprehensible way.

"− I will always wait for you −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year ago

Text

Name: Dubior

Debut: Kirby's Return to Dream Land

Kirby's Return to Dream Land is very realistic, because it accurately depicts the phenomenon that, when you go to space, you will encounter funny robots flying about! What is their purpose? We don't know! There is, however, a sort of controversy or misunderstanding revolving Dubior.

You see, Dubior grants the Spark ability. Because it is a robot that runs on electricity, and uses all sorts of electric attacks! However, many people do not like this, and think it should instead give the UFO ability.

Perhaps I am in the minority here, but I disagree! Dubior may be a flying machine in space, but at least to me, it does not seem all that much like a UFO! It is just a funny robot. The UFOs in this series have all had a very distinct design trend, which Dubior does not follow. Besides...

What is a UFO? An Unidentified Flying Object. Dubior is not unidentified. It's Dubior! It says it right there on its health bar! Objectively, Dubior is not a UFO. It is just a FO. And nobody says FO.

What Dubior HAS always reminded me of is those little handheld vibrating massagers! You know, the ones with a central round part and three or four orbs that vibrate and you rub it on your back? It is a fun thing to be reminded of!

Anyway, Dubior is a mid-boss, and a very special one! As Kirby and friends journey across Popstar, they will encounter various mid-bosses as usual, culminating in a classic Mid-Boss Tower Level in which they are fought one after another, each fight taking place higher in the tower.

This tower is so high that it pierces the atmosphere, and Dubior is fought last, on nearly the top floor! It is no coincidence that the most alien of foes is only on the closest point of this planet to outer space. This foreshadows that it will reappear, and more often, on the distant planet Halcandra! This seems to be where it was created, but for what reason? We don't know!

What we do know is that in Planet Robobot, the Haltmann Works Company uses Dubiors as part of their invasion! I assume they reprogrammed or recreated ones they found on Halcandra, since we know they have been there. It is the only of their returning mid-boss arsenal to not be mechanized, which is amusing. How are you going to mechanize a robot? You're not!

Geez. I can't believe I've said so much about Dubior and I have not even gotten to its wonderful antenna thing! It's clear by now I find Dubior delightful, but to me, the antenna is its best feature. When it first appears and sees Kirby, the three weird floating rectangles seem to freak out, growing and flashing red and white, as if it would be saying INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT.

Dubior is also a parent! Happy birthday to Dubior Jr.! I love love looove when things are named like that. This is a machine! You would think it would be named something like Dubior Lite or Dubior Micro, but no! This was Born, and Named, after its proud robot parent. As were its many siblings, because many Dubior Jr.s can be spawned! Mollusc Fans may notice that Dubior Jr. looks quite like a nautilus, with a body like a curved shell, and a brim above its eyes like the leathery "hood" of a nautilus! It is a strange decision, since Dubior's design does not appear to draw from any real creature, but of course I am very happy about it. I'm Mollusc Fans!

Finally, we have Dubior EX, who I do not have much to say about, but am including because it would be wrong not to. This one is pink, and with only one eye, positioned to appear slightly menacing as opposed to regular Dubior's wide-eyed innocence! I prefer regular Dubior, but EX is very cool on its own merits, too.

If after all this you still consider Dubior to be UFO-like, I'm not upset with you.

#dubior #dubior jr #dubior ex #kirby #kirby's return to dream land #kirby enemies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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yuesya · 7 months ago

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Sweet notes of music drift into the nighttime air, the song of a lyre accompanied by the clear notes of a young voice.

Ventus smiles broadly, fingers plucking the strings of his own lyre in harmony to his friend’s song.

The life of a bard is not a particularly affluent one. But luckily for them, Ventus has made many friends in all walks of life within the walls of Mondstadt… including talented craftsmen who happened to be highly skilled with woodwork. They had only been all too happy to indulge Ventus’ unusual request of making a miniature-sized lyre for his miniature-sized friend.

“How was that, Ventus? How did I do this time?” A white blur zips towards him, eagerly spinning around him a few times before stopping to hover directly in front of his face. Beneath the white hood, it’s difficult to make out distinct features, or even a face at all, but the small wind spirit’s buoyant enthusiasm is clear to identify from his voice alone.

Ventus smiles and praises, “That was great! You’re getting a lot better with the lyre now, Little Breeze.”

“Yay!” The nameless wind spirit cheers, with a small tinkling laughter that’s filled with genuine delight. He twirls in the air with a small somersault and–

–lands on an open palm.

Ventus blinks. Then, jumps with a startled yelp, because he had not noticed anyone else standing right next to him this entire time–!

The young wind spirit laughs, bouncing excitedly on the newcomer’s hand. “Did you like my music?”

“… It was passable,” is the young girl’s response.

Ventus roams the streets of Mondstadt every day, and he knows all its residents. Yet he can say with complete confidence that this young girl who’d appeared out of nowhere next to him is not someone whom he recognizes at all.

Her hair is long, white. Smooth and silken, in a way that Ventus hasn’t even seen in noble-blooded daughters before. Likewise, her skin is pale and smooth –unblemished and flawless in the way that a person might suspect of a statue, rather than another living human being.

But despite the physical perfections, she’s only clad in a simple white chiton. There is a thin girdle that encircles her waist, and looks to be entwined of coarse wooden fibers.

The juxtaposition is a little… startling.

“Just ‘passable?’” The tiny wind spirit that still stands upon the strange girl’s palm freezes for a moment, then draws himself upright with a loud ‘hmph.’ “But Ventus said my song was great! And he’s the best bard in all of Mondstadt, so there!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say best bard,” Ventus laughs sheepishly, then puts on a friendly smile towards their unexpected guest. “Are you new to Mondstadt, perhaps? A rare visitor! Shall I sing a small song of welcome for the lovely young lady, perhaps?”

The girl doesn’t even deign to glance in his direction, which. Ouch. That’s actually kind of–

“Unnecessary. Your music is stifled.”

Ventus freezes.

Stifled.

… A thick barrier of fierce, impenetrable winds surrounds the city of Mondstadt and its nearby territories. Stifled is the right word for it –how could he not be, being caged like this under the aegis of an uncaring god?

For all that Decarabian had been the one to protect the earliest generations of Mondstadt’s people and help them raise their city from the ground, their patron god had eventually chosen to retire to the recesses of their high tower after the barriers were raised, and none had seen them since… save for the few chosen among the God of Storms’ knights, who continued to serve the deity faithfully throughout the generations. Blindly.

“But your music…” the white-haired girl lifts her hand, studying the little wind spirit that cocks his head towards her. “… you are… happy. Exceedingly so. Why?”

“Well, what’s there to not be happy about?” The young spirit responds. “I’m with my friend, and he’s teaching me how to play wonderful music! We’ll be playing together in the tavern with all of our other friends, too! There’s going to be yummy food and drinks!”

The excitable wind spirit does another little flip again.

“How long have you tarried here?”

The little wind spirit freezes mid-flip, dangling awkwardly in the air. “… Eh? I-I don’t understand what you’re–”

“You should know this,” the girl says, and her next words dismiss any possibility of her being a mundane traveler for Ventus. “You are only a fragment of the wind, a momentary breeze. The rustling of leaves in the morning light… which is how you slipped through the barrier. But no wind is meant to be bound to a single place.”

“B-But I have friends here,” the little wind spirit stomps his feet. “I like listening to Ventus’ music. I like playing tag with Gunnhildr. I want to stay here! … Please?”

The girl tilts her head. “Even if it means your sense of self will disappear entirely, if you insist on forcibly maintaining this form instead of returning to the Thousand Winds?”

Ventus’ mouth drops open.

What?!

“I won’t be myself anymore, if I return to the winds,” the little spirit answers. “I… want to spend time doing the things I like, with the people I like, in the place that I like. Is that so wrong?”

The girl is silent.

Ventus tries to say something, anything. Why didn’t you tell me about this? Is there anything that I can do to help? How could you hide something like this from all of us, foolish little breeze?

But nothing comes out from his mouth. Ventus discovers that his voice has been silenced without his knowing–

And in front of him, a small breeze picks up around the strange girl and the young wind spirit that hovers in front of her.

For a single moment in the silence of the night, only the stars and wind remain.

“… Nameless spirit. One who is but a mere wisp of the Thousand Winds. Who has cast his gaze upon this land and its people, and wishes to linger,” the girl says. But there’s a certain cadence to these words, a certain intonation that causes each syllable to echo in Ventus’ head.

Every note overlaps upon each other again and again, rising into a terrifying crescendo–

“Upon the authority of–”

The girl’s voice disappears entirely.

… No, it doesn’t disappear. Ventus is still cognizant of her voice, but for some reason he just can’t hear. But the moment passes swiftly before he has a chance to think too deeply on it, and–

Suddenly, all pressure disappears from his mind.

Blessed calm.

Ventus gasps, staring into the ground, hunched over and kneeling. What–?

“–I bestow upon you the name, ‘Barbatos,’” the girl says quietly. “… Rise. I permit you to cease your endless wandering, and henceforth grant you a place to belong.”

There is a blinding flash of light that encapsulates the wind spirit. It’s–

Music, song, laughter–

Run, drift, fly–

Freedom–

…

With a sharp gasp as he startles back into the world of wakefulness, Ventus immediately bolts upright in his… bed…?

No. No, he remembers going out to meet his little friend last night. Playing music together. Then, there was that strange girl who appeared and did something to the wind spirit. It didn’t seem like she had any malicious intent, but…

…

… just who was she? Surely there was someone who would know; her appearance was quite distinctive. Long white hair, coupled with eyes that were–

… were…

…

(What did her eyes look like again? Ventus can’t remember. Ventus has excellent memory, and he can’t remember.)

“You’re awake!”

It is with great relief that Ventus takes in the sight of his little friend… or rather, not so little anymore. The little wind spirit appears to have grown slightly in height. More noticeably, though, there are now a pair of feathery white wings that sprout from his back, fluttering in the air.

“Ba– … err, um. Cecilia! Cecilia said that you were a little sensitive to her power, which was why you passed out, but you should be fine after a good night’s sleep.” The wind spirit turns a playful somersault in the air and plops down atop Ventus’ stomach, causing him to let out a slight ‘oof.’

Then, the words register. “Cecilia?”

“Um… yeah!” A shifty response, accompanied by nervously-fluttering wings. Ventus gives his little friend a look.

“… Did you just make up a name for her on the spot?”

“Her hair is pretty! Like the cecilias you showed me!”

Ventus opens his mouth, then closes it distractedly. “I suppose that’s true…”

“Isn’t it?” Eagerly, the little wind spirit leans forward. “And thanks to her, I don’t have to worry about disappearing anytime soon! And I have a name now, too –Barbatos!”

“… Do you know who she is, really?” Although the girl hadn’t been particularly friendly or talkative… despite everything, she’d helped the little wind spirit –Barbatos– of her own volition even though there hadn’t been any reason for her to.

The power she’d shown… was she a wind spirit, too? Surely a strong spirit, at the very least. Decarabian had slain so many gods that even now, none dared to linger anywhere close to Mondstadt’s borders. So the very thought of the girl potentially being a god in disguise was a laughable one, but…

If they could get her help, then… perhaps, they would stand a better chance at resisting and overturning Decarabian’s tyranny.

“The winds cherish her,” Barbatos responds, which lends credence to the growing theory of the mysterious girl being another wind spirit. “And… I think she needs friends.”

Ventus hums.

“Well, I think we could help with that.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #mondstadt au #this doesn't come up in the tidbit but #in my head the statues of decarabian in mondstadt #are tall and male!#i wonder why #:)#sometimes in older records though we have decarabian showing up as a little girl #so there are also theories in which decarabian is a shape-shifter

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 months ago

Note

Where do you watch your Thai BL dramas and do you recommend any to start with?

WOW how did I miss seeing this????

Oh boy this is gonna take a while for me to properly answer because you managed to ask, in so few words, a question that has a long answer! (Which I am all too delighted to give, HEHE)

This ended up being such a long post omg, here's a read more.

So starting with where: There's quite a few places. Streaming services with a prescription, YouTube, and even a few free sites where fans will typically upload content (depending on availability and access, these update latest if a show can be found at all).

Streaming platforms (featuring Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese, Korean, and Thai content):

iQiyi - Chinese owned, has a free option with ads and a subscription option. Also features bonus content on certain shows that subbed users can access if you're into that. Has a good balance of stuff that isn't LGBTQ+, lots of great Chinese wuxia - I'm honestly amazed they have as much queer shows as they do but I am not complaining because there's a lot of good ones there.

GagaOolala - Taiwanese owned, has a free option with ads and a subscription option. Stout LGBTQ+ collection. There's certainly other programming but it's thing is being more out and proud, so it's a win for me.

Viki - American owned, allows users to add/edit subtitles. I haven't used this one much, but I haven't needed to get a subscription so far with the shows I have sought to watch and haven't been bothered with ads either? Not sure how that works but I haven't needed to bother looking into it lol

Other sources I've used to watch other BLs are YouTube (there's so many, and they're for FREE), DramaCool, kisskh, and Bilbili.

In this next bit, I'll be summarizing different studios that produce Thai shows, including Thai BL specifically. I'll summarize the studio and then list recommendations for shows.

First up:

GMMTV - (most content on YouTube, some has been put on iQiyi and Gaga though) This is a popular one for Thai shows, and Thai BL especially. It's nicknamed the Disney of BL for a reason (pumps out a lot of new shows each year, huge roster of actors signed to them, very focused on branding and promotion, etc.). A lot of people's first Thai BLs are among their shows, since it was the company that produced the show that launched Thailand's BL industry onto the map. They can be hit or miss with the level of satisfaction, but overall there's plenty to choose from and much to recommend.

Shows I recommend from this company:

Bad Buddy

This is the first one I watched and it changed my fucking life. Pat and Pran are the perfect mix of next door neighbors who were raised to be rivals, but they can't help becoming friends, and eventually fall for each other. It does great subversion of a number of tropes and has a kissing scene that so memorable I bought a t-shirt that's worn in it. The acting is superb and it's both funny and devasting in a lot of good ways. There's a sapphic side couple who are incredibly cute as well!

Be My Favorite

Pisaeng and Kawi, two guys who can't seem to accept their feelings, each live out multiple time lines where they can't help but be drawn together when Kawi is given a time traveling device. This show ponders the affects of one's actions and how living your truth can make or break the happiness you seek in life. This show was unprecedented in how good it was, especially since the leads were an unusual pairing. I love them I love them I love them.

SOTUS

This is the one that kick-started everything back in 2016 for Thai BL. It follows a group of college freshman who are subject to ritual hazing by their seniors, and one student worms his way into the heart of the senior leader. This show set out to censor fags (cigarettes) and not fags (gays). There's so much cultural significance that it's difficult to describe. It sets the tone for a number of BLs to follow.

Not Me

Do you like gays? Do you like social activism? Do you like batshit plots that put you on your fuckin knees for the whole ride? Have we got a show for you. I don't know how to summarize this one without immediately feeling insane, I love this show with all my goddamn heart. Twins Black and White get separated because they have a connection where they can feel the same things when they're close, and it has proven dangerous. Black gets put in a coma and White takes on his identity and joins an anarchist gang to find who hurt his brother. Not everything is what he thinks, though. Also this show inspired my first tattoo because Yok is my favorite boy forever and ever amen.

The Warp Effect

Alright, it's not a BL, technically, but my GOD is it queer. Don't believe me? Here's a list that I made of not even all the reasons why this show is so queer. It addresses so much about sex ed, relationships, consent, kink, body shaming, and even features a non-binary character. A boy, who made a promise to his late mother to save his virginity until marriage, breaks the promise and wakes up in the future. He has to help old friends and acquaintances resolve things that happened on that fated night if he hopes to return to his youth.

3 Will Be Free

Also technically not a BL, but it is poly!! A sex worker, a club host, and the son of a mafia boss end up on the run together after being involved with the wrong people and being in the wrong place...and killing a guy. By the same director of The Warp Effect, so you're guaranteed a similar flavor of thorough queerness.

More shows by the company that I recommend: A Tale of 1000 Stars, Moonlight Chicken, Enchanté, Vice Versa, The Eclipse, My School President, Wandee Goodday, Only Friends, Midnight Musem, The Gifted (those last two aren't BLs but the vibes are there).

Next up!

Idol Factory - (YouTube channel for watching) Founded by actor Saint Suppapong with the purpose of creating a studio that harbors a safer and more positive experience for people in the industry. Well known for producing one of the first and most popular GLs or girls love shows.

Shows I recommend from this company:

GAP The Series

Sam has been Mon's idol since she was little and now she's secured a job working at her company! She's so excited! Until she realizes that Sam is...kind of heartless. Her unwillingness to let her boss walk all over her does more than win over a good professional relationship. It's got all the drama of class divide and arranged marriage along with it, so it's a fun ride and makes for an iconic entry for lesbian cinema.

The Sign

Phaya and Tharn aren't just reincarnated lovers, they weren't even human before! The story follows a curse that's followed them since they first met as naga and garuda, both powerful legendary creatures who have fought each other for ages. In the present, they train as police officers and end up working together in a case related to Tharn's tragic past.

The Loyal Pin

This one actually hasn't started airing yet (August 4th!!!!) but it's about a lady and a princess who grew up together. From the looks of things, it's gonna have drama and angst up the wazoo so I'm looking forward to it.

More shows by the company that I recommend: Secret Crush On You (I haven't personally seen this one but it's been on my list and highly recommended)

Next up!

Domundi - (uncensored versions on iQiyi, cut versions on YouTube) It's more of a "content creator" company, so it includes musicians as well as actors, so there's not many shows under their wing. But they are good with high heat (more explicit) BL stories. One currently airing, Battle of the Writers, includes Chinese wuxia elements which is incredibly interesting and kinda ballsy (there's suspected attempts to lower viewership for censorship reasons). I highly recommend watching it just for the sake of elevating it, there's a cut version on YouTube.

Shows I recommend from this company:

Bed Friend

Poor Uea is traumatized to hell and back; it's like the world is out to get him. He and his coworker King decide after a one night stand to be exclusive fuck buddies, and ngl it's HOT. We get catboy kinks in this one! Their connection deepens and they have to figure out what they both want from each other. Also all the shitheads get owned, it's really nice to watch. It inspired a Jennette McCurdy meme from me.

Middleman's Love

This is the story of Uea's best friend Jade, who sees how happy his friend is in his new relationship, and takes his turn being Emma Woodhouse. Well....it doesn't go to plan. He keeps pushing Mai toward someone else and doesn't realize that Mai likes him. This one starts incredibly goofy (I put that as a warning), and then gets steamy later on.

Battle of the Writers

This one just started airing! Ob-un is accused of plagiarizing fellow author Chan, and after things have been cleared they end up on a writing team together. The wuxia characters here are characters from their novel. It seems their relationship will parallel certain aspects of the story.

Next company!

Wabi Sabi - (YouTube channel for shows) They've recently lost a whole bunch of actors (several to GMMTV no less) due to terminating artist management, so I'm not sure what the future looks like, but they've released several shows that are considered BL staples.

Recommended:

Until We Meet Again

Dean and Pharm are reincarnated lovers who previously had a tragic end. This one is heavy on the emotions, the first 10 minutes took my fucking knees out. Has lot of themes of intergenerational trauma and how important having supportive parents can be. Pharm is so cute, I need to squish him!

Between Us

It starts around the same time as Until We Meet Again, but from the perspective of Team and Win. They have their own angst issues and family traumas that make them messy, and there's a lot more development of the side characters that were featured in the first series as well. I especially enjoy the sideplot for gamers Waan andTul, lol, I wish they could get their own series too! I do recommend watching UMWA first if you don't want to be confused about a few scenes in this one.

Final company, let's go!

Change 2421 - The company that made the omegaverse alpha-alpha car racing BL. That one. Need I say more?

Recommended:

Pit Babe

Mx. omegaverse alpha-alpha car racing BL themself. Babe is a star racecar driver with special abilities. He's charmed when he meets Charlie, but things begin to change for him faster than he can recognize. The home he ran away from tries to force him back as he attempts to reveal its worst secrets.

This Love Has No Long Beans

This is currently airing! Oab is your chef from Kitchen Nightmares that judges harshly with a tough exterior but genuinely has a good heart. Having lost his passion for cooking, he decides to set up a contest to find a successor to take over his restaurant. Plawan chooses to enter this contest despite having no skills and already having gotten on Oab's bad side. Things get heated when Plawan's determination to make it through the competition ignites the passion for cooking again.

There's plenty more companies, but these are the ones I am most familiar with. But there's still more!

Shows I recommend that aren't from the companies listed above:

Kinnporsche

The mafia BL that took over. I have so much brain rot about this one that it's hard to summarize without going crazy. Porsche and his brother have been struggling to keep their beloved family home, so he takes an offer he can't refuse - working as a mafia bodyguard. Kinn, the current mafia head, is undeniably attracted to him and it ends up making them inseparable in more ways than one. I especially enjoy the side couples, VegasPete and KimChay (there is ENDLESS insanity from all possible pairings tbh).

Love in the Air

It's kinda split into two stories, Payu (or Phayu, honestly the spelling gets switched a lot and even I don't stick to one thing) and Rain, and Prapai and Sky. PayuRain are the most couple ever, that's just the best way I can put it. The actors have incredible chemistry and set a fucking standard for making out. Sky and Prapai will make you cry. They handle some pretty intense material and do an incredible job with it. Also bisexuals with motorcycles and light mafia action.

I Told Sunset About You/I Promised You The Moon

Not only an iconic BL series that strives for telling an incredibly realistic story (no goofy sound effects or gags here), but the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous. Also the messiest bisexual awakening known to man. Oh my god. So much crying. Sooooo much angst. It's okay if you throw shit over this one, it's worth it, I promise. Tee and Oh go through pretty much everything that could make weaker couples hate the other person and that's what makes them top tier.

Ingredients

This whole series is a grocery store commercial? Ignore that, these roommates have the most adorable development. I binged this and was crying at 2am. Tops is an aspiring chef and Win is his himbo roommate who is trying to make it as a musician. As they each work toward their dreams, they become important aspects of each other's lives. Also, if you don't come out of this obsessed with Jeff Satur (or anything else he does), I will question your taste. Pun intended.

Old Fashion Cupcake

Japanese BL? Older queers? Office romance? Age gap? A confession scene that meets Jane Austen level standards of desperation? Togawa and Nozue are something else man. They make it a game to pretend to do what young women do as an "anti-aging" technique, but really it's Togawa's scheme to hopefully catch the eye of his boss. Incredible, no notes except maybe I'd like to have a Thai remake? Please?

And last but absolutely not least...

Semantic Error

A fantastic Korean BL. Rivals to lovers and 10000% ADHD4autism. Jang Jaeyoung is prevented from graduating by Chu Sangwoo and makes it his personal mission to get under his skin. And well....it works lol. They're both the most characters, I adore them and their chaotic stumbles into romance. Bonus Choi Yoona bisexual goddess side character, we love her.

Kiseki: Dear To Me

Taiwanese BL that's also split somewhat split between two stories. Zong Yi takes in a wounded Zhe Rui. The student realizes he's keeping a gangster in his dorm and tries to ignore his charms but ends up being drawn into his world. Meanwhile, Ai Di and Chen Yi, other members of the gang, deal with the consequences of Zhe Rui's disappearance.

Well. That was a whole lot. I hope this isn't too overwhelming for you! I've only been in the BL fandom for a couple years so this is barely scratching the surface as far as what's out there.

#answered #loveofmyknife #long post #thai bl #bl series #good god there is too much to tag here #i hope this answers things for you

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galedekarios · 4 months ago

Text

so, let me get this straight...

laiostoudenn aka wizardblood/lathanderr/spellbooking/the james somerton of the bg3 fandom instead of actually apologising and taking accountability for his repeated actions, now:

block evades, keeping his old blog up as an "archive" and making a new one, while, of course, not deleting any of the other sets he blatantly stole from others, including myself

lies and tries to change the narrative of what actually happened once again, while also conveniently not going into any details at all of what little he does admit, lest those who still believe him for some unfathomable reason look deeper

calls his stealing and constant plagiarism that has been going on for months "fandom drama" that is being "rehashed" constantly due to no fault of his own

still lies about not knowing these gifsets (or "a" gifset as he puts it) that he stole existed, while also saying at the same time yet again how it's just "gifing the same scenes" and that there would be "nothing" left to do if that isn't allowed, despite this still not being the issue and us showing ample evidence of what he is actually doing, i.e. him taking word for word captions, frame by frame sets, entire concepts down to a t, and him literally contacting us to "remake" these sets and not taking no for an answer, no matter in which way it was said to him, privately or publicly

feels he is being "villainised".......................... for plagiarising

claims we never gave him a chance to "right his wrongs"... as if he isn't 100% free still to do just that by say, deleting everything that was stolen and actually apologising, acknowledging what he did was wrong instead of lying about it, instead of whatever the fuck this manipulative collection of lies sprinkled with a pity party is...

and let me be clear: he claims he took accountability, but he doesn't like what taking accountability actually would look like in his case because he's been in this for internet clout and notefarming since day 1 & that's the only reason why he doesn't "right his wrongs"

claims he is being isolated and made to feel unwelcome in the fandom space, which i can't help but wonder.... might that perhaps be because he is plagiarising ppl, has taken back his initial damage control apology from march, while continuing to vague about the creators for months (ranging from accusation of transphobia, bullying, clique behaviour, etc) and now feels backed into a corner after it has come to light that he is still doing this and has now been blocked by various people who have been affected over a long time? might that be it?

is now further trying to victimise himself by saying he received homophobic messages, which... even IF true (and it's a big if solely based on just how much he lies and that he accused the initial person who spoke out against him of being transphobic), it still doesn't make it right that he stole despite being told to stop it multiple times. two things can be very, very wrong at the same time.

claims he did actually take accountability... which again, i can't help but wonder: was that by gleefully delighting in the fact he sees himself as the "top hated bg3 blog baybee"? that he is now in his "reputation era"? is that what taking accountability looks like for him?

still pretends he is a small blog bullied by bigger creators when his stolen sets made as many, or at times, even more notes than the ones he stole did, and as if his blog didn't grow big on the backs of actual original creators

and, finally: "And fair warning: If you do not stick to the status quo in this fandom, you will be eaten alive." like,,,, be so for fucking real right now, this is legitimately embarrassing

i thought this was finally finally over and done with, but no.

#like his only response to my post was more lies and blocking me #knowing that he's now lurking somewhere #with a new blog is unsettling tbh #text: personal

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art · 2 years ago

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Creator Spotlight: @scottlava

Scott Campbell has illustrated numerous children’s books, including SKULLS!, Sleepy the Goodnight Buddy, and Zombie In Love. He was author/illustrator of the much-loved HUG MACHINE. He enjoyed a long career in video games, where he art directed the critically acclaimed game Psychonauts and Brutal Legend for Double Fine Productions. Great Showdowns is his ongoing online series. Scott’s work has appeared in galleries and publications around the world. You can see more of his work at ScottC.com.

Check out our interview with Scott below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Great Showdowns?

I went to art school in San Francisco and have been painting, making comics, and designing video games ever since with Double Fine Productions. The Great Showdowns began at the first Crazy 4 Cult exhibition at Gallery 1988 in Los Angeles back in 2007, an exhibition of artwork inspired by the cult classics of cinema. The first 10 little paintings were intended to be snack-sized pieces for people to easily collect. They began with perhaps the most iconic of wild west showdowns from A Fistful of Dollars with Clint Eastwood. I pulled some of my favorite moments from films like Ghostbusters, Predator, Exorcist, and Planet of the Apes and placed them all in simple little dust-colored squares as if they were in the dirt streets of a wild west town. They began as good versus evil but grew to all kinds of showdowns between people and objects and often moments of great love between people. I started a tumblr for them a few years later, and I have been posting them ever since. We have published three Great Showdown books and have had 3 solo exhibitions along with worldwide scavenger hunts. There are over a thousand of them up on the site by now, and i do not plan on stopping any time soon.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I would like to gather Jim Henson, Walt Disney, and Richard Scarry together for dinner and chats. They have all created my favorite and most joyful worlds. I think we would have some of the most delightful chats.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I love collage, but every time I try it, I get frustrated and just quit. Someday I will get into it when my kids are old enough to really mess around with various mediums. I plan to have boxes of textiles and magazines for them to just annihilate.

What does your work set up look like?

Oh, it’s just a table with an old mug for water and an old plate for my watercolors and not much else. I share a studio with a bunch of very inspiring people who make wonderful things, from fabricated creatures to VR experiences and films. I have probably the simplest little area in the space. I do have an old oak flat file that I love to look at.

Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?

The biggest thing I would push upon everyone would be to not fret about one’s visual style. The style will grow and present itself as you experiment with mediums and expose yourself to various cultural delights. Just have fun and try all kinds of things.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I gave a game design presentation many years back on a game I had art directed at the time called Brutal Legend at a game conference in Leeds. The game followed a roadie to the age of metal in the land of metal, with demons and chrome volcanoes and hot rods growing from the ground, and rivers of happy and cheering fans. After the talk, I spoke with someone whose work I had seen in earlier portfolio reviews at the conference. She was very shy but incredibly talented. She came up to me after the talk feeling pretty emotional and inspired to the point of tears and sobbing. It was probably the most extreme reaction I have ever gotten from someone, and it touched me deep down in my guts. That’s why we make things! To bring on the tears!

From video games, to illustrations, and children's books, you've worked on many projects. What was the most challenging, yet rewarding one?

Video games take an enormous amount of work over a long period of time and rely on the skills and talent of many like-minded people. It is sometimes difficult to corral such an effort, but it is incredibly rewarding to see it all come together to create such epic worlds. That said, though, children’s books are very enjoyable in a cozy way. It’s just me right there working on a world and all the pressure is on me. I cannot rely on all the talented people around me to make it look great.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I love perusing old fashion and film blogs and artists like Bob Jinx and Neil Sanders and collections like Its Colossal.

Thanks for stopping by, Scott! Be sure to check out the Great Showdowns over at @scottlava!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #scott campbell #great showdowns

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foolishlovers · 8 months ago

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FAKE DATING FIC RECS: Below you can find a list of Good Omens fics in which Crowley and Aziraphale are fake dating each other. [AUs and non-AUs included]

[Requested by @waitingtobebroken. You can request more fic recs here.]

Tell Your Plants I Love Them by JustJReally (T, 3k) Trying to get over Crowley by going on a date with someone else, Aziraphale reflected, was not a good plan. Agreeing to go on a date with Gabriel, of all people, was an even worse plan. In which Aziraphale is rescued from a terrible date by a knight in shining sunglasses.

My Memory With You by jessikast (T, 4k) “Does anyone there look familiar? I am going to kill Adam, he’s done this on purpose!” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale frowned. “Well, Adam of course. And-“ “Nanny Ashtoreth?” came a disbelieving – and American – voice. “Is that you?” *** Adam brings his boyfriend, Warlock, home for the holiday. Adam figures out that Warlock's nanny and gardner may, in fact, be a certain demon and angel of his acquaintance. Adam has a very, very good idea. In which Aziraphale and Crowley are required to pull on some old disguises at short notice, Warlock is delighted to see his old caretakers again, and Adam's going to pay for this later but right now it's hilarious.

when you take me by the hand by summerofspock, wargoddess9 (E, 9k) Crowley's got a plan for managing his rekindled friendship with Aziraphale. It all goes to hell when he opens his big mouth. ** “I have a rather large favor to ask.” When he is silent for too long, Aziraphale prompts, “And what is it?” “So, my cheer captain was going to ask me out and I panicked and said I was dating someone and when they asked who it was I may or may not have implied it was…you.”

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden (E, 9k) He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel. “Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

Side Mission by KannaOphelia (T, 11k) Some time after Warlock's ninth birthday, Aziraphale and Crowley have realised they made a mistake, and tracked the real Antichrist down to Tadfield. Two years to save the world is more than enough, right? Except everyone keeps assuming they are a married couple, and it's almost too much for a hopelessly in love demon to bear. Especially when Aziraphale suggests they might as well go along with it.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T, 11k) Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E, 19k) Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by gasp fake dating!

Talk About It by hope_in_the_dark (T, 20k) Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (E, 21k) As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam. At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T, 27k) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

Faking It by bisasterdi (E, 28k) In the immediate aftermath of the Nope-Let's-Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale tentatively begin to move on, hoping Heaven and Hell will leave them alone in the wake of both of their failed trials. Of course, nothing could possibly be that simple. It isn't that Gabriel or Beelzebub have actually figured out how the trials were subverted…but boy, do they THINK they have it figured out. Thankfully, it won't take much to keep them in the dark. (Crowley and Aziraphale just have to spend eternity together, pretending to be in love with each other. All Crowley needs to do is make sure Aziraphale never finds out that everything he's saying and doing is true.)

dearly departed by attheborder (T, 29k) Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E, 31k) PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples… Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

The Small Ad by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 32k) WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao. It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

In The Shadows Of Our Past, A Flicker by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 36k)

One went to Aziraphale's bookshop to exchange secrets, buy information or simply to use as a safe haven from the powers that be.

One did not go there looking for a partner for a seemingly-innocent mission to a tropical island, stalking a perfectly normal couple. Where unfortunately they would have to pretend they were married. As if that would have stopped Crowley, anyway.

Throw in their mysterious and complicated past, danger lurking from where they are least expecting and Crowley's very naked, very tattooed body that suddenly seems to be everywhere, and you might find them in a situation they are too ineffable to escape.

Or, my entry for the Good AUmens fest for the Fake Marriage prompt, with a hearty dash of Spies subplot.

Green Things Are Flowers Too by summerofspock (E, 60k) “Oh yes,” Crowley said breezily. “This is my husband, Francis. He’s a gardener by trade. We were hoping you might have an opening. An estate such as this.” Aziraphale gaped from where he stood on the stoop, feeling his heart speed up. Husband? Francis? Gardener? He’d never agreed to any of this! ** In which Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be married while they stay at the Dowlings as Nanny and Francis.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 70k, WIP) Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E, 201k) Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

[You can find more fic rec masterposts here.]

#appreciating reblogs sm so other ppl can find these gems too 🥰#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens fic rec #good omens human au #fake dating #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #aziraphale x crowley #go fic masterpost #foolishlovers

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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 month ago

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kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 13

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.

The intimacy of last night might have been too much for either or both of them.

sorry you’re not convincing me that scene was like groundbreaking relationship-shifting magical catharsis. but this is ultimately damen’s narration and his perception has never been 1:1 with what’s actually happening, in terms of authorial intent or what i analyze

They were gazing at each other. To Damen’s delight, Laurent reached out to trace a touch down over his body. Laurent was looking at him as if he couldn’t quite believe the fact of him, as if even touch could not quite confirm it. ‘What?’ Damen was smiling. ‘You’re very,’ said Laurent, and then, flushing, ‘attractive.’ ‘Really,’ said Damen, in a rich, warm voice. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

this is laurent being soft, but also still being laurent. if that makes sense. the one scene we’ve gotten through his pov has shown that he overthinks every aspect of a situation—the fact that he just awkwardly states that he has observed that damen is hot, in an attempt to ground himself in some kind of objective knowledge, is both adorable and poignant

‘Well,’ Damen owned, turning his head back to Laurent eventually, ‘You are too.’ Laurent dropped his head slightly, on the edge of laughter. He said, with absurd fondness, ‘Most people tell me that right away.’

damen always thought it, but i think laurent appreciates that he didn’t say it then. he really appreciates hearing it now, because damen actually knows him. the compliment has substance and weight and importance that it otherwise wouldn’t. it’s funny bc laurent has used his beauty to manipulate damen before—the baths, verisimilitude, etc.—but i think this is the first time he actually WANTS damen to find him beautiful. maybe even the first time he wants anyone to find him beautiful, for reasons other than strategy (like with torveld)

Sweet and simple in the morning, Laurent’s beauty was heart-stopping.

“you like it simple” my thoughts about that single line of dialogue from chapter 7 is going to continue to be a subject of importance throughout these annotations, as damen ~finally gets what he wants~ from laurent (not using quotation marks bc i don't want to make it look like that's in the text, but i'm being like sarcastic/ironic/whatever)

If there had been a chance for our countries to be—’ Friends.

i like how immature his thought here is, evidenced by the fact that he doesn’t even say it. damen knows it’s silly to think about politics like this, but he’s so attached to laurent as an individual that he’s starting to see vere as a person too. which is both great, bc it shows how much his character has evolved from accepting everything he once believed, but also highlights the way damen can lose himself and his critical thinking in his attachments

'I would have been trailing around tugging on your sleeve, trying to get a look in edgewise.'

cue a bazillion pieces of fanart

After a moment, Laurent said, ‘He would have liked you.’ ‘Even after I started courting his little brother?’ said Damen carefully. He watched Laurent stop, the way that he did when he was taken by surprise, and then lift his eyes to meet Damen’s. ‘Yes,’ said Laurent softly, his cheeks reddened slightly.

this is soooo crazy for them. while i think it does represent legit development, i also think they’re kind of acting the parts of people who are lot more healed and happy than they actually are. like they feel the desire for lightheartedness and vulnerability, and don’t want to deal with the things that make them uncomfortable anymore, so they’re just committing to the bit that they’re fine and seeing where it takes them. see also: the previous sex scene. but they still have big problems (see also: the previous sex scene again) and the book is not over yet

‘No. Listen to me.’ He felt Laurent’s hand firm on the back of his neck. ‘I’m not going to let my uncle hurt you.’ Laurent’s blue gaze was calm and steady, as if he had made a decision and wanted Damen to know it. ‘It’s what I came here last night to say. I’m going to take care of it.’ ‘Promise me,’ Damen heard himself say. ‘Promise me we won’t let him—’ ‘I promise.’

oh he already knows he’s trading himself for damen’s not-son, doesn’t he. which also makes the uncertain and uncomfortable vibes of the previous scene make a lot of sense. it’s kind of a repeat of their sex scene in prince’s gambit, except this time only laurent knows it’s probably the last time (or one of the last times) they’ll ever have together

actually wow yeah, laurent’s insistence here—“listen to me, it’s what i came to say, i promise’—that really nails down the finality and desperation he’s feeling. and damen just Didn’t Get It, and still doesn’t. which is interesting bc he was so pleased in the last scene that laurent was finally being honest, and accepting him for who he was. while laurent was accepting damen finally, and wasn’t even really LYING about his intentions (like right here, he pretty much deadass says it), damen is so distracted and overwhelmed by this romantic victory that he doesn’t notice the tragedy looming

also—“let him” what, exactly? “hurt him?” do you think laurent thinks damen knows what the regent specifically did to him, and could do to his son? bc if i didn’t know that he didn’t know, this line would pretty much indicate that he did. wow that is an incoherent sentence.

Laurent said it seriously, his voice honest; no game playing, just the truth.

damen isn’t actively trying to deceive the reader, but he is definitely incorrect in his certainty a lot of the time. but then again, those words were the truth—laurent is not going to let his uncle hurt damen’s not-kid, and it was the reason he visited last night.

The kissing this time had an echo of last night’s desperation, a need to block out the outside world and stay for a moment longer in this cocoon, Laurent’s arms winding around his neck.

okay what did i just say. we are so fucking back (in terms of actually good analysis)

‘Come in,’ said Laurent, turning his head towards the sound. Damen said, ‘Laurent,’ shocked and on full display as the door swung open. Pallas entered. Laurent greeted him with no self-consciousness at all. ‘Yes?’ Laurent’s voice was matter-of-fact. Pallas’s mouth opened. Damen saw what Pallas saw: Laurent like some dream of a newly fucked virgin, himself unmistakably above him, fully roused. He flushed all over. In Ios, he might have dallied with a lover while a household slave attended to some task in the room, but only because a slave was so far beneath him in status as not to signify. The idea of a soldier watching him make love to Laurent was breaking open his mind. Laurent had never even taken an acknowledged lover before, let alone—

ironic that damen was so overjoyed in the last chapter about this exact situation—that it was LAURENT who he had, being vulnerable and acting like his past submissive partners coughslaves —but when he actually gets spotted in this situation he’s like oohhhhhhh my goddddd nooooo!

like i know i kinda talk shit about akelions a lot, but the persistent theme that it’s inherently some kind of like natural entitlement of the “powerful” (royal, rich etc.) to possess and use people designated beneath them in status just truly reveals how weak and transparent their power actually is. like of course you’re going to look strong, if you only allow yourself to be seen with people you’ve placed in lower stations. some of damen’s shame here must be due in part to his akelion upbringing, but that same upbringing is WHY he got so excited about making someone as powerful and stubborn as laurent submissive and vulnerable to him. in a culture where it’s encouraged to keep it simple, he’s found himself deeply rewarded by the complication of laurent in ways he’d never anticipated, but also afraid of how that complication will come across to his countrymen.

Pallas turned blindly, and made for the door. ‘What is it?’ Laurent looked at Damen, who had detached himself and was sitting with the sheet pulled up to where he had clutched it to cover himself. And then, with the burgeoning delight of discovery, ‘Are you shy?’ ‘In Akielos we don’t,’ said Damen, ‘in front of other people.’ ‘Not even the King?’ ‘Especially not the King,’ said Damen, for whom the King still partly meant his father. ‘But how does the court know if the royal marriage has been consummated?’ ‘The King knows whether or not it has been consummated!’ Horrified. Laurent stared at him. Damen was surprised when Laurent dropped his head, and even more surprised when Laurent’s shoulders started shaking. Around the laughter emerged, ‘You wrestled him without any clothes on.’ ‘That is sports,’ said Damen. He folded his arms, thinking that Veretians lacked any sense of dignity, even as Laurent sitting up and pressing a delighted kiss to his lips had him slightly mollified.

love this lighter shot at the cultural miscommunications here. but MAN is it hard to ignore the giant dark shadow over laurent’s every word and action here. unless you’re damen i guess, but that’s part of why they’ve always worked well together (see other annotations about damen allowing laurent to feel like a person beyond his trauma because he doesn’t really understand it, while still being a fiercely protective and uniquely intuitive partner in romance and life)

Later, ‘The King of Vere really consummates his marriage in front of the court?’ ‘Not in front of the court,’ said Laurent, as if this were unspeakably foolish, ‘in front of the Council.’ ‘Guion is on the Council!’ said Damen.

it is very funny to realize how in vere, sex is basically a form of bureaucracy and political posturing. and it’s like, some people are having fun with it, but others aren’t. as opposed to akielos, where it’s also posturing but sounds like pretty much everyone who is high-class enough to have slaves is very happy to partake. unlike vere, they do it in the privacy of their bedrooms, and people are taught to believe it’s happening and respect it. in vere, if it’s NOT happening in a public forum, no one really gives a shit and it might as well not be happening at all.

basically, sex is a means of political posturing and demonstrating status in both kingdoms, but in distinctly different ways. in akielos, it’s the equivalent of subtly telling everyone at the hedge fund that you have an affluent lifestyle by wearing certain clothes and using advanced technology. you’re perceived and accepted as certified finance bro by tasteful implication. but in vere, it’s more like straight-up driving your third tesla into the office and loudly counting your money during staff meetings (i don’t know if hedge funds have staff meetings) so it’s garishly undeniable to your wealthy peers that you belong

‘I’m sorry Govart is dead. I know you were trying to keep him alive.’

“sorry for your loss, of the man you killed with a chair. we both fuckin hated the guy but he would have made great leverage” they really are rubbing off on each other <3

‘I thought he knew something that I could use against my uncle. It doesn’t matter. We’ll stop him another way.’

and what way would that be. laurent. (also, a surprise tool that will help us later!)

‘It was nothing. There was a knife fight. I got free, and Guion and I came to an arrangement.’

and it was one of the best chapters in the entire series

‘You were taken prisoner, you single-handedly escaped from the cells at Fortaine, and somehow managed to get Guion to switch sides on the way out?’ ‘Well,’ said Laurent, ‘not everyone is as bad at escaping as you are.’

laurent would enjoy tabletop roleplay gaming so much. also i love them

‘When you lost your brother, was there someone to comfort you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘In a way.’ ‘Then I’m glad,’ said Damen. ‘I’m glad you weren’t alone.’ Laurent pushed himself away, up into a sitting position, and for a moment he sat, without speaking. He pushed his palms into his eye sockets. ‘What is it?’ ‘It’s nothing,’ said Laurent.

ohhhhhh my god (i wonder if mentally laurent is like, ‘well i thought he might have figured it out, but i guess not. how the fu—‘)

‘We should—’ ‘And we will.’ Laurent turned to him, sliding fingers into his hair. ‘But first, we have the morning.’

“and then i will turn myself in to my abusive creep of an uncle as a solution to the problem i’m ignoring. but for now, this is a romance novel, and i’m stepping into your genre for a change”

(which is i think the main thing i missed in my analysis of the previous chapter, by the way. i’ve written so much about damen being forced into laurent’s genre but remaining romantic despite the horrors, but that last scene was a subversion where laurent is forcing himself to ignore the horrors so he can both indulge damen’s perception of them and try to experience it himself as a relief from the imminent tragedy and his past traumas)

After, they talked.

great thing to write after a fade to black sex scene! reminds us what their relationship really is about, beyond the physicality and emotional catharsis. these two fell in love doing battle strategy, remember?

Servants brought a breakfast of fruits, soft cheese, honey and breads on round platters,

glad to see thematically appropriate fruit basket guy is still finding work, even though damen and laurent are un-marrieddivorced

Damen took the seat closest to the wall, affixing the gold pin he had recovered to the cotton at his shoulder. Laurent sat in a relaxed pose, in only pants and a loose shirt, its collar and sleeves still open. Laurent was talking.

i love prince’s gambit

Damen realised that Laurent was letting him in to a part of himself he had never shared before, and he found himself drawn in to the political complexities, even as the experience felt new, and a little revelatory. Laurent never opened his thoughts like this, but always kept his planning intensely private, making his decisions alone.

damen i think you’re underestimating how much laurent showed you in the last book, compared to literally every other person he talks to

‘You are not keeping slaves in your household.’ ‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Damen.

smash cut to the cover of captive prince, a novel by cs pacat

‘You hate the idea of slavery. It turns your stomach.’ Damen said it, a flat statement of truth. ‘If I’d been anyone else, you would have freed me on the first night.’

doing my analysis for me. how far we’ve come

‘When I argued the case for slavery in Arles you didn’t try to change my mind.’ ‘It is not a subject for an exchange of ideas. There is nothing to say.’ ‘There will be slaves in Akielos. We are a slave culture.’

wow, i’m actually kind of surprised damen hasn’t already committed to dismantling the entire practice. i know he gets there eventually, and maybe he wants to at this point—but he’s still like, “well other people are going to do it and that’s their right.” maybe that’s the incomplete part of his development here: he’s decided that it’s wrong for HIM to be doing, as a result of his experiences and tastes, but hasn’t quiet grasped that is a universally wrong practice, even if it’s his friends and allies doing it

Damen said, ‘Are pets and their contracts so different? Did Nicaise have a choice?’ ‘He had the choice of the poor with no other way to survive, the choice of a child powerless to his elders, the choice of a man when his King gives him an order, which is no choice at all, and yet still more than is afforded to a slave.’

yep, i’m a little rusty but i do remember a lot of my laurent character analysis having to do with the fact that he would rather be doing something on purpose even if it isn’t something he wants to do, than given no choice or ability to HAVE thoughts or preferences at all. free will is extremely important to laurent, and the idea of losing it is both terrifying and shameful to him. so even in situations of financial desperation or lack of power due to age or status, laurent still believes that there is more of choice to willing submission than just never being “afforded” the ability to make choices in the first place—even if slaves live under less stressful or overall comfier conditions. even the most desperate, poor, powerless victim still has more personhood and autonomy allowed to them than a slave. and without that foundation of personhood and autonomy, there is no purpose to life.

laurent thrives on having purpose, and suffers without it. and in his big pov chapter we're also told that he often has hope, despite everything, and has to regulate it in order to be realistic. there is no purpose for a slave, and there is no hope for a slave. at least with veretian pets, at least for laurent in the veretian court, he still had purpose, and he still had hope. i think the only time in laurent's life where he did NOT feel purpose/hope was when he was under the regent's thumb, which had only happened because laurent lost hope and purpose due to auguste's death and leaned on the regent for comfort. and that situation had only really changed because the regent stopped being attracted to laurent as result of natural aging, not even because laurent was eventually able to change things due to his own internal strength. that's fucked up, man. but it does explain laurent's perspective.

Damen felt again the shock of hearing Laurent voice his private beliefs. He thought of him, helping Erasmus. He thought of him visiting the girl from the village, teaching her a sleight-of-hand trick. For the first time, he caught a glimmer of what Laurent would be like as a king. He saw him, not as the Regent’s unready nephew, not as Auguste’s younger brother, but as himself, a young man with a collection of talents thrown into leadership too early, and taking it on, because he was given no other choice.

damen, assessing laurent’s situation: he was given no other choice, but he’s still trying his best :(

laurent, miserable and tired but possessing free will: i am MAKING the choice to do this to the very best of my ability, using my compassion and intelligence in a way no one else could. even if it sucks, even if i could do something else (because i absolutely could), i am CHOOSING to be the kind of king my people deserve. having “no choice” would mean lacking the will to choose to do anything but the exact thing i’ve been trained to do, which is how both akielion slaves and princes are groomed to live (re: the latter—consider damen’s musing on his father, the military, and tradition)

I would serve him, he thought, and that itself was like a little revelation.

back in book 1 i highlighted the overall thematic question: can there be honor in submission?

yes. like this. so much has led to this line, subtly and slowly, and we’re finally seeing it said outright. damen would serve laurent because of the person he is, not the royal status that has been put upon him by birth. and he’d be doing so as a person with free will, acknowledging laurent’s complications as well as his own, instead of the imitation of a slave who can’t choose anyway so might as well just go along with it.

in other words, he’s leveling up his commitment to the bit <3

‘I know what you think of my uncle, but he is not—’ Laurent spoke after a pause. ‘Not?’ ‘He won’t hurt the child,’ said Laurent. ‘Whether it is your son or Kastor’s, it is leverage. It is leverage against you, against your armies, and against your men.’ ‘You mean that it hurts me more that my son is alive and whole than it would if he were maimed or dead.’ ‘Yes,’ said Laurent.

laurent: i know that you think my uncle is simply bloodthirsty and evil, and would only think to injure or kill your not-son, but you don’t understand that he would rather sexually abuse a young boy than kill him. because he did that to me. which you haven’t figured out. although you did know about nicaise. but you seem to have a blind spot about the entire topic.

damen: wait, what do YOU think i think of your uncle?

laurent: ignores the question basically, the kid wouldn’t get hurt, because it’s useful to my uncle to keep him intact as leverage against us both. (especially against me, because i know what he would do to that boy, but if i explained that i would have to explain why, so i’m not going to mention it specifically)

damen: so like. he won’t kill the kid because he can torture and manipulate us with it more effectively if it’s alive

laurent: somehow i have told the truth and you do understand it, but there is so much that you still don’t understand

He said it seriously, looking into Damen’s eyes. Damen felt every muscle in his body ache with the effort of not thinking of it. Of not thinking the other, darker thought, the one that at all costs must be avoided. He tried to think instead of a way forward, though it was impossible.

possibilities for “the other thought”:

1) the obvious one, and the most likely in my opinion: the regent would assault the child.

damen has a reason to suspect this, because he is aware of both nicaise and aimeric

in terms of craft and characterization, this a little hint that damen might have considered laurent being abused, but eventually dismissed the notion because it is TOO dark and too upsetting to acknowledge

^^^ active repression is in-line with damen’s overall tendencies

2) the other darker thought is the death or torture of the child, which laurent is explicitly telling him will not happen. damen is accepting that “comfort” uncritically because it doesn’t make him feel as upset or powerless as the alternative. the regent’s abuse of young boys is not being considered at all.

‘My uncle knows you won’t move against him while he holds the child,’ said Laurent. And then, calmly, steadily, ‘So we get him back.’

not going to lie, i’m not the biggest fan of the baby as a plot device. but i get why it’s used, and how it connects a lot of characters, especially like jokaste and kastor who haven’t been present in previous books. i just think it might have been more effective if it was a child that damen and/or laurent actually knew—although i do understand that the baby’s “royal lineage” probably comes into play here. but i also think a big theme of the series is about honor coming from integrity in action, rather than blood or status. but it is just a fuckin baby, and a baby is the ultimate symbol of innocence and helplessness. so maybe it’s just kind of a wash.

also the confusion about the paternity kinda just annoys me. i get that to damen it doesn’t matter, but then like. make it kastor’s baby for sure, then. that would give damen’s integrity and family oriented nature even more of a spotlight.

(maybe it is confirmed to be kastor’s at some point. i didn’t pay that much attention to this plot beat the first time around)

He looked for changes in her, but the cool, untouchable air was the same, as was the particular way that her eyes regarded him. She had the same colouring as Laurent. She had the same mathematical mind. They were like a matched pair, except that her presence was different.

it’s both telling and sweet that damen is so used to having his mind changed by laurent, who ended up so much more honorable and understandable than originally believed, that his first instinct with jokaste is to look for signs of that same potential. as opposed to damen in captive prince chapter one, whose first thought seeing laurent was “he would be an expensive sex slave”

There was a part of Laurent that was always in tension, even when he affected calm. Jokaste’s unassailable composure seemed like serenity, until you knew she was dangerous. A similar core of steel, perhaps, existed in both.

i think you might have just been down bad for jokaste in a specific way, and down bad for laurent in a different way. jokaste definitely isn’t making you feel serene now, is she? and laurent, inversely, is a great comfort to you when you first thought he was unpleasant. another example of the overarching damen nice=/=good and mean=/=bad theme.

She didn’t seem perturbed by her incarceration, or even really to notice it.

like damen in the cell, internally attentive to every little detail. i bet jokaste is too.

He said, ‘Is there a child?’

he wants it to be untrue, so the regent doesn’t have leverage over him. i also think he’s partially asking if it’s HIS, although that’s more of a personal thing that wouldn’t impact his actions in saving the kid

‘I have told you that there is,’ said Jokaste. ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ said Damen. The attending women seated around Jokaste were of varying ages, from the eldest of perhaps sixty to the youngest, Jokaste’s age, around twenty-four.

he's learning!

‘Let me tell you what is going to happen. You are going to be executed. You are going to be executed whatever you say or do. But I will spare your women, if they agree to answer my questions.’

damen immediately doing what he’s so upset the regent is doing to him and laurent is fascinating. like “oh i have an idea of how i can challenge jokaste into talking! use human lives as leverage! wonder where that came from, anything recently happen…? oh right.”

He said to the soldiers behind him, ‘Take them.’ Jokaste said, ‘This plan of action will mean the death of the child.’ He said, ‘We haven’t established that there is a child.’ She smiled, as if pleased to discover a pet capable of a trick. ‘You’ve never been very good at games. I don’t think you have what it takes to play against me.’ He said, ‘I’ve changed.’

this entire war hinges on schroedinger’s inconvenient baby

also, jokaste was born in the wrong kingdom. i think part of the reason she’s so terrible is that she’s bored in akielos. vere’s political landscape would be enrichment for her and she’d probably thrive in that environment, and feel no desire or need to establish her status by getting pregnant by a prince

okay sorry but like. au where laurent reluctantly teams up with young noblewoman jokaste a year or so after the regent stops assaulting him, and they work together to overthrow him through complicated court political maneuvers. laurent is motivated by obvious reasons, and jokaste is mostly just personally slighted by the regent’s misogynistic court and therefore annoyed, but deep down they both know she cares about him and wants things to be better. and obviously he cares about her bc it’s laurent and he cares about everything, just doesn’t want the world to know it

‘You are the only one protected in your arrangement. These women are going to die. Unless they talk to me.’ She said, ‘You have changed. Or is this the new power behind the throne? Who am I really negotiating with here, I wonder?’

damen wouldn’t. he knows it, jokaste knows it, and laurent DEFINITELY knows it. he would not tell damen or expect damen to do this as anything more than a bluff to assess jokaste’s commitment to the bit

He was already nodding to the nearest soldier. ‘Start with her.’ It wasn’t pleasant. The women resisted, and there was screaming. He watched impassively as soldiers took hold of the women and began to drag them from the room.

wait holy fuck did he do it?? it’s not entirely clear. but i think he fucking did??? is it written vaguely to make the reader have this exact confused reaction?? hold please i’m reading more

EDIT: it's "women" and not "woman." i originally read it as "woman," meaning that the first was specifically resisting and screaming as she died, and then the soldiers seized everyone else. if it's plural women, i think it's safe to say that the first woman did not actually die, the soldiers just mobilized in a way that made kyrina scared enough to tell damen the truth, despite jokaste's warnings

‘No,’ said Jokaste. ‘He will not kill a roomful of women for loyalty to their mistress, Kyrina.’

still not saying outright if he killed the one woman, and i have to wonder WHY, if not to intentionally confuse and stress out the reader. it could go both ways with these carefully chosen words of dialogue—“he will not kill a roomful of women for loyalty.” “roomful” could imply that he already killed one but she thinks he wouldn’t kill multiple (but from what we and jokaste know of damen, that assumption makes very little sense—he’s not really like a utilitarian trolley problem kind of guy, although i guess laurent is). but “for loyalty” implies that she does understand damen, and the assumption that he would not kill for the REASON of loyalty, because it’s something he respects in himself and others. hhhhh

EDIT: see previous annotation

‘There is a child. He was taken to Ios.’ ‘That’s enough,’ said Jokaste. ‘None of us know if the child is yours. She says it is.’ ‘That’s enough, Kyrina,’ said Jokaste. ‘There’s more,’ said Damen. ‘Exalted—’ said Kyrina— —as Jokaste said, ‘No.’ —

turns out when your status is predicated on power earned by force rather than earned respect, the people serving you are going to submit to the strongest person in the room. unfortunately for jokaste, she just stopped being perceived as the strongest person in the room

‘My lady did not trust the Regent of Vere to protect her interests. In the case that there was no other way to save her life, the wet nurse could be instructed to bring the child to you—in exchange for Jokaste’s freedom.’

she’s out-veretianing the regent of vere.

oh ALSO!! it’s neat how based on jokaste’s attendant calling him “regent” and not “king,” jokaste must also casually refer to him as such, not actually respecting him or his false title

Damen sat back in his chair, and lifted his brows slightly at Jokaste.

that’s laurent-brand cuntiness. should have added a lean though

'There is no way to circumvent my conditions.'

that phrase is like catnip to damen and laurent. one time damen ripped a metal grate out of a wall

Jokaste, he thought, believed that it was impossible for him to travel into Ios, and that there was no place where it was safe for him to attempt an exchange. But there was a place where two enemies could meet without fear of ambush.

i like how the kingsmeet is set up for a way for damen and laurent to ensure that the regent doesn’t hurt them, but in a twist it ends up being the regent’s plan to anger damen so much that damen breaks the rules and tries to throw hands

‘But you’re a fool to trust him. He has his own plans.’ ‘He has never pretended otherwise,’ said Damen.

true. and perfect for this exact conversation. this is what‘s really being said, i think—

jokaste: laurent may be giving you good ideas, but it’s stupid to trust him because he’s definitely also keeping some of his manipulations from you

damen: he’s never claimed to be honest, which ironically makes him more honest than you. i know he has secrets and i trust him anyway, because i know him. you never even gave me the chance to know you, for whatever reason, and i was a fool for trusting you and faced the worst consequences imaginable. at least when laurent tortured me, we both thought he was my enemy. you tortured me when you were supposed to be my ally. you have not earned my trust and respect, and laurent has, and ultimately that’s your loss. because i know you appreciated my integrity and honor, two things that you believe that you can not afford to have yourself.

(maybe it’s not that deep. but i think it’s satisfying to consider, with the little we’ve been told about their history)

He looked at her, alone on the low couch. He couldn’t help but remember the day they met. She had been presented to his father, daughter of a minor noble from Aegina, and he had been able to look nowhere else. It was three months of courtship before she was in his arms. He said, ‘You chose a man who was bent on destroying his own country. You chose my brother, and look where it’s left you. You have no position, no friends. Even your own women have turned on you. Don’t you think it’s a shame things had to end this way between us?’

NOPE IT’S THAT DEEP I NAILED IT

“i loved you so deeply and immediately and would have done anything for you. kastor doesn’t give a shit about you or this country. the way this ended between us was your choice, and it was a bad one. your loss.”

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Kastor should have killed you.’

and we know he’s right, and that he hit a vein, because the woman who pretends to be cool and detached and in control basically just tells him that she can’t handle him being around.

#sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen #kings rising

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