#nobody can ever stop me from writing in my books.

[is-that-an-error]

„why are you annotating your book? you will never take it in your hand after reading anyways.“

EXCUSE YOU?

i am totally going through my books after reading them. i need the nostalgic kick and want to feel what i felt while i read them. me annotating and writing thought in my books is all part of a bigger plan.

just because you put your book in your shelf and let it collect dust there doesn’t mean i do it too.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[themeraldee]

I think a great awkward sex fic could be homelander making love for the first time.

Not losing his virginity, but having sex with someone he loves

anon you're sooooooo smart!!!! I love this idea so much. After being in such a funk this reignited me and I had to write it now!! It took a different turn at the end but I don't dictate what the characters do!! thank you for this idea and please enjoy 🩷

Imperfectly Perfect

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 2.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Awkward sex. Realistic sex. Embarrassing sex noises. Feelings of inadequacy. Homelander being a mild drama queen. Cunnilingus. Unprotected sex.

Looking back at it, it was meant to be perfect.

Homelander eagerly ushered you back to his penthouse after an incredible date out. He pulled out all the stops, renting out the top rated, most expensive restaurant just for you. He spent the entire night charming your pants off with his strangely charismatic and at times awkward self. 

Buzzing with anticipation he couldn’t wait to show you what else he had in store for you. You’ve changed his perception of everything. Ever since you’ve wormed your way into his heart, he’s locked the way out and threw away the key. You’ve made him feel like nobody else ever has and he thought it high time he repay the favor. That’s why tonight had to be perfect. 

He wanted to show you what awaits you in your shared future.

He had some poor Vought employees absolutely drown his penthouse with bouquets of rich red roses, rose petals strewn across most surfaces, candles illuminating every corner, highlighting the glittering gold of the picture frames adorning his walls. Smooth jazz played in the background at a low volume sealing the deal on what ended up feeling like a scene plucked from an elaborate Valentine’s day ad.

“Wow! This is—wow! Homelander, you didn’t have to do all this.” You looked around the space, taking in the change with a shock and awe on your face. This quickly turned into a beautiful bright smile that made Homelander feel like he was on top of the world. He’s obviously doing something right.

“Anything for my girl.” He pulled you in gently, making the dress he’s picked for you twirl prettily. “Come with me,” he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, letting them linger for a little while while he inhaled the scent of your perfume—also his choice—and the roses surrounding you both. At that moment he thought that tonight would be perfect, one for the books.

And now? It didn’t take long for it to already be turning into a disaster.

From his point of view at least.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms as you watch the show. You asked to watch him take off his suit, promising that you’d give him just as good of a show as he would. 

Prior to this he has taken his elaborate suit off thousands of times anytime he’d go to bed. Now he’s struggling as if both of his hands were left-handed and this was his first suit fitting. He’s so tense, his nerves tighter than a bow string making his hands shake while he unclasps the cape, immediately folding it on the rack out of habit before he continues unzipping his suit. His heart is beating like a drum in his ears, he wouldn’t be surprised if even your ordinary ones could pick up on it. 

It’s not that he’s never had sex. It’s just that the anticipation of what he’s built up in his head is making him overthink his every move. He needs you to know that he can be like this for you. Because the perfect mainstream image of romance is what every woman dreams of—right?

When the zipper gets stuck and doesn’t let him unzip like normal he panics internally. There were meant to be no hiccups today! 

Observant that you are, you stand up as soon as you see him struggle and swear and take the step closer to him. “Let me help you.” You put your hands on his before sliding them up his forearms, then shoulders before going down to rest on his chest.

“How about you let me undress you and then you undress me.” You give him a cheeky smile, trying to break the tension he put himself into. “Does that sound good?” You ask quietly and breathy as you undo the zipper he was struggling with. 

He nods curtly, feeling ashamed that he’s admitting to a fault on his part.

But with the continuous dreamy eye-contact you slowly help him out. Undoing clasps, and zippers of his convoluted uniform. 

He was less worried about you seeing him naked than he is about the whole performance of it all. He’s let you see him without the suit before. Early into your blooming relationship you’ve stumbled upon him covered in blood. It only made sense to take the shower together as you helped him wash all of it off. But even then, he didn’t want it to go further. He said he had plans and asked you to let him make it perfect. 

When he’s finally fully naked he pulls you in for a hot kiss. It’s almost in gratitude at helping him mend the situation and put it back on track. He walks you back to the bed pushing you on it. He’s only about half hard, which is unusual for him as Homelander easily gets a hard-on in a split second anytime you just look at him a certain way. So it’s a surprise that he’s not panting and leaking with the way you look tonight. 

Clearly, he’s still stuck in his head.

With each kiss he presses into your skin, tasting the softness of your every spot he gets more and more excited. Slowly melting into you with each little huff you let out as he kisses your body, undressing you in tandem. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growls into your ear before kissing you flush on the lips. Hot and heavy, he licks into your mouth, moaning at the way you pull at his hair when you rake your fingers through it.

Just as you want to take some control back, treat him the same way he’s treating you, he stops you.

“Nuh, uh. Ladies first. Let me make you feel good.” He rumbles as he pushes your hands off his body. You look pleased at his words, giving him an excited little grin.

And just like that, he’s finally taking control of the situation again. He’s got a script in his head and he needs to follow it to a tee.

Down on his knees, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. Already spreading your legs open, unabashedly inhaling the scent of you, already aroused and wet for him. He grins like a shark to himself. Without giving you much heads-up or taking it slow he just straight up buries himself in between your legs.

Just the smell of you had his cock finally turning rock hard, now with the taste of you he feels it twitching, drooling precum from the tip.

He’s licking you open, spreading you with his tongue. Like a mad man who doesn’t know where to focus first, with little rhythm he changes between strongly sucking at your clit, pointing his tongue sharply and running circles around your clit right before shoving his tongue into you, tongue-fucking you just like he imagines will leave your mind blown.

Except. 

“Little softer, please.” You sound out in between sweet little sighs. You’ve taken to running your nails through his hair, giving his scalp a little massage while he went to town on you.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles into your pussy as he quickly looks up at you. He slows down with his urgency though he’s a little peeved at the way he’s not been able to rock your world yet. 

“Don’t be—ah—it’s great. I just like it a little softer.” 

It’s great? Great?! It should be mind-blowing, incredible, glorious! Not just great. Immediately his ego takes a hit but he doesn’t outwardly show it. In his mind you should’ve been moaning and shaking for him, coming on his tongue while he got his fill of you. 

This doesn’t happen.

And while he’s doing better, making you moan a little louder, forcing small gasps out of you as he softens his tongue flat, gently laving over your clit before sucking on it softly. He’s not making you cum and that’s killing him.

You suddenly sharply tug on his hair and at first he thinks you’re getting close but you pull again and he looks up at you confused.

“Come up here.” You guide him up.

“But you didn’t finish.” He scrunches his eyebrows confused and for a second he looks like an innocent sweet puppy. 

“I don’t wanna come yet. I’m actually usually done after one orgasm so I reaaally want to have you inside me for the big finish you know?” You sign that off with a wolfish grin that he immediately eats up as he climbs up to devour you, making you taste yourself on his lips. 

With the thoughts of being inside you where it’s all soft and warm and really just made for his cock, he abandons his thoughts of inadequacy. 

And as much as you want to participate, Homelander keeps pushing you off, instead focusing on your body and all the places he hasn’t managed to kiss yet. 

When he swats your hand away from his cock again you ask. “Why won’t you let me return the favor?” 

“Another time.”

“But I wanna blow you! It’s not fair, why can’t I?” You keep pouting and you’re as adorable as you are annoying because as much as he’s sure your mouth will feel amazing he’s even more certain that your pussy will be fucking incredible. And he definitely won’t make it through both.

“Because I’ll bust, alright?” He swats your hands away instead pinning your wrists down onto the plush bedding making you yelp in surprise and arousal. He can sense the way that got you all excited. “Now just let me fuck you… please?” He says before kissing you again.

You automatically spread your legs. He kneels on the bed, sitting on his heels as his eyes immediately lock onto the sight of your pussy, still pretty and wet for him. A sight that makes his heart swell. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t want him with such voracity. He made sure to keep some lube on hand in case you wouldn’t get wet enough for it to be comfortable for you but he was preening that he managed to get you this wet. 

Homelander let one of his fingers glide down your slit, gathering the slick before pushing a finger in, immediately groaning at the intense heat of your cunt. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in you.

He gathers more slick that you seem to be making an abundance of but this time he gives his cock a few strokes, giving it a nice, wet coating. “So perfect for me.” He whispers out more to himself than you before he shuffles closer, holding his cock in his hand, rubbing it up and down your slit before eagerly pushing in.

The sheer tight heat of you has him gasping, you’d almost think he was in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed out look on his face.

When he sinks all the way in, he takes in your pretty face, your softly parted lips, gently flushed face and a look in your eyes that he’s sure he’ll never forget. You look at him with such love and adoration it’s impossible for him to stop the, “I love you,” that comes out of him before he kisses you.

“I love you too.” You say with a bright smile when he lets you breathe.

 He thinks at this moment, there’s no way this could be anything less than perfect.

Getting lost in the sensation he picks up the pace. He fucks into your faster and harder with each stroke and it’s not bad but it’s too too much from the get go. Homelander doesn’t see this. In his head he wants to make you cum before he himself finishes which with his track record might not be a very long time.

“Hey hey hey, slow down. You don’t need to go all hard and fast so quickly okay?” You say with a breathless little laugh, looking a bit rattled from the way he’s been fucking you into the mattress.

Fuck. He fucked up again. He’s disappointing you. That thought makes his heart hurt and jaw clench. But Homelander doesn’t let it show as he just nods at you, kissing his tension away, trying to get his head back into enjoying himself as much as he should.

But the universe isn’t kind to him and when he eases himself back into you, pressing his body against your sweat-covered one, the glide of skin on skin well… It makes a sound that could only be described as a fart!

You burst into giggles at the comical sound and you seem to think that’s it but Homelander is mortified. His eyes widen and he gasps, pushing himself off your sweat-slick skin. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—”

When he tries to explain that it wasn’t him it just makes you laugh harder.

He doesn’t get it—you’re laughing! It’s so incredibly embarrassing and it’s ruining the vision he had for the night. Tonight was about him finally opening up to you, letting you feel just how strongly he feels about you and it’s been a disaster from the start.

He feels himself softening inside you so he pulls out before you notice and he grumpily pulls away from you, turning to sit at the edge of the bed to sulk.

Your giggles died out as soon as you noticed him pull away. “Baby? Don’t be upset. I’m not laughing at you.” You sit up, reaching over to him, moving closer. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing! Tonight was meant to be—well not like this!” He’s upset and he’s trying to take it out on you as if pretending that it’s your fault is gonna soothe his hurt ego.

“It’s okay. It’s normal, it happens. It’s literally just skin on skin. Bodies make funny sounds!” You try to soothe him by rubbing his arms and shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to his head or side of his neck.

“You shouldn’t be laughing at it like this whole thing doesn’t matter.” He said with a bite in his tone, almost accusing you of not sharing his feelings.

“I’m laughing because this does matter to me. I’m comfortable around you. You make me feel at ease and let my guard down. I’m laughing precisely because I love you.”

He doesn’t respond and you continue soothing his hurt feelings.

“It’s beautiful, the way you’ve prepared this place. But do you wanna hear a secret?” You move closer to him and turn his head with your finger. “It’d be just as romantic without all of it. Even if the first time we had sex was in a broom closet. Or whatever. The point is—it’s you. That makes it all so special.”

He sighs with palpable relief and he nuzzles his head into the hand you placed on his cheek. He could just about devour you for being so amazing. 

“I just wanted it to be perfect for you.” He admits his insecurity, giving you the ammunition to rip his heart in two if you wanted to. He knows you hear the ‘I want to be perfect for you,’ he’s really trying to convey. 

“It is perfect. Tonight, the whole thing. Everything that’s happened. It’s been perfect. I’ve been loving every second of it.” You kiss him on the lips and he melts. He turns so he can embrace you with the kiss, feeling the tension finally slip away. With no expectations, he can enjoy you the way he should have from the start.

“Come on, lie down. Stop thinking.” It’s your turn to press him into the mattress as he lies on his back staring up at you with pure adoration.

Just like that, after seeing you on top of him all pretty and loving his cock is back at full hardness. You finally wrap your hand around it, giving it a few strokes before you lower yourself down on him.

“We’re getting to know our bodies. You learn what I like, I learn what you like. None of this thinking of what it should be like. Okay?” He nods at you although he’s very preoccupied with taking in the incredible feeling of you wrapped hotly around him, sending his mind into a frenzy.

You bounce on him, showing him exactly how you like it, what angle and what pace and in the meanwhile you coo sweet, soothing words. Clearly seeing just how much work his hurt ego will need to get back to normal. 

And somehow, in the end, it’s so much more perfect than he could ever imagine it to be.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten 

[louloulemons-posts]

heyyy. i saw your taking logan fics. do you think you can write a fic of logan and reader but she’s very girly and bimbo like? thank you 🩷

Claws and Frills

wolverine x fem!reader

(x-men wolverine, he’s a big boy)

summary : At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, but now your the first person he finds when he returns to the mansion.

word count : 0.8k

warnings : not proofread, fluffy, petnames (reader calls logan kitty and the famous bub), readers a necromancer, mentions of violence, blood and killing, readers not really described - only her outfit , hanks a bit of a dick, very very sweet, no established relationship.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

At first Logan didn’t know how to take you, you were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Cooing that Charles had adopted a pet ‘Kitty-cat’ when you first met one another.

It had taken him a few months to realise, you weren’t being condescending, you were truly that sweet and slightly ditzy. Saying that you had the gift of necromancy, controlling those who had passed, along with their powers if they were mutant.

Logan strolled outside of the mansion finding you, lay on your stomach reading a book, a soft lilac blanket beneath you.

A pink dress and short white cardigan hug your figure, as your pink converse lay discarded beside you, showing your white frilly socks.

“Hey Bub,” the man called out, walking over to you. With a grin you turned to him, “Kitty, come sit,” Scooting over to make room for his larger figure, the smile never left your lips.

With a soft groan he sat down next to you, laying back, hands behind his head. “How was your mission?” you asked, placing your book to the side to have your full focus on the man beside you.

With a shrug he spoke, “Went well, stopped the guys.”

“Any blood spilled?” You questioned, head cocked. “Less than last time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” Logan pulled his sunglasses down to rest on his nose, so he could meet your eyes with his own dark ones. “Did any of your blood get spilt?”

“Nothing I couldn’t heal from Bub.”

“Logan you promised-“

“Sometimes it can be helped,” he cut you off, “I did everything I could to be safe and come back to you in one piece, and look here I am.”

He motioned to his long body, dressed in a flannel, unsurprising, a pair of jeans a boots. “Well even if they killed you, you couldn’t be rid of me.”

He laughed, “You’re awful.” With a pout, you sat up on your knees, “What? I have to use my freaky-deaky powers at some point!”

“Freaky-deaky? Is that the technical term?” He smirked. With a groan you spoke, “Don’t, you sound like Hank.”

Logan’s face went serious, “What’s he said to you?” He was ready to shred that blue asshole to pieces for making you feel insecure.

“Nothing, he actually apologised. Charles told him he’d upset me. I mean I know I’m not the smartest sometimes,” Logan tried to cut you off, but you didn’t let him.

“But, I’m not stupid, we actually spent a lot of time talking about, neuroscience. Just because I’m not a total badass like Storm or Jean doesn’t mean I’m an awful hero, I just …” You sighed.

“What Bub?” Logan pushed himself up so you sat face to face. “I just don’t want to stop being myself, and my… gift already makes me feel like I have too.

“Maybe I was given the wrong one, would have been better if I could control plants or I don’t know, talk to animals.”

Logan smiled, pulling a cigar out of his pocket, which you snatched away without a second thought. If it was anyone else, his claws would be out, but it was you.

“Your power doesn’t define you, you know that right? You’re you. You’re sweet and kind, and anyone or anything you’ve controlled with your powers has been as respectful as you can make it.”

“But I’ve killed.”

“And you’ve saved.”

“But-“

“Bub, you’re good, and Hank isn’t a people person, he just talks sometimes. Nobody is a special or as badass as you, I promise.”

“Not even you?”

He titled his head, thinking for a moment, “I might be a close second.”

“Third, Erik’s more scary than you … and Jean oh and Scott-“ he put a hand over your mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile against it, causing his lips to twitch upwards. He pulled his palm away, “Thank you Kitty.”

“Never have to thank me, you know that.” Leaning forward you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You really are my favourite person, you know that?”

“You’re crazy,” he said making you laugh, arms coming round your waist, “But you’re my favourite too.”

Pulling away you stroked his face gently, “You’re a good man, you know that right?”

“You tell me most days. Now read to me,” he said, falling onto his back, hands going back behind his head.

Crossing your knees, you sat beside Logans figure, his eyes falling closed. One of his hands moving to stroke your leg softly. “What are we reading?”

With a smirk you spoke, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Logan groaned, “Again?!”

“Hush Kitty.”

And hush he did, listening to your soft voice hand never leaving your leg. Remaining on that soft blanket with you, until the sun began to set and the stars rise.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

i honestly can’t believe i’ve never done a logan fic but deadpool 3 brought back my obsession big time.

I hope you enjoyed.

Please leave any requests 🫶🏻

[metaphorfordeath]

Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again. 

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it. 

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon. 

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I? 

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand. 

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood. 

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong. 

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition. 

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?” 

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.” 

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?” 

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.” 

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me. 

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.”

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script. 

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling? 

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.” 

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world. 

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby. 

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. 

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it. 

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say. 

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X. 

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hey Derin, can I ask you a question or two about publishing? (If no, close your eyes for the next bit and click near where you remember the delete button was.)

I'm writing something with the dream of publishing it one day and I'm considering all avenues at this stage. What led you to publishing serially online? What are the pros of your experience doing that?

Asking you because I was looking over your site earlier today and thinking about how comfortable a place the internet feels - less of a big step than traditional publishing, or even putting out a whole story at once for self-publishing.

I've never pursued trad publishing and have no plans to ever do so, it was immediately obvious that it wasn't for me, so I can't give you like, comparisons. I only even got into indie publishing because my readers were demanding ebooks and paperbacks so I just shrugged and got them made. Sometimes I get asked trad vs. indie publishing questions that I do not have the experience to answer.

This question, though, I can answer. I didn't sit down and go "how should I publish these? Online, or through a trad publisher, or what?" I approached web serial writing directly as a career without considering publishing my writing as books at all; that was never on the radar until the readers wanted them. And the reason I started writing a web serial was simple -- it was a hobby that suited my lifestyle.

I'd written serial fiction before; fanfiction, some r/hfy stuff, just whatever I felt like, and I had a serious problem experienced by many casual writers -- I tended not to finish stuff. The stuff that had never made it to the web was even worse; I had so many novels in progress on my hard drive that I'd gotten to the end of the first act of, before moving onto a new idea. I needed something to do with my time (I'd moved back to my hometown to spend time with my dying grandfather and was unemployed) and posting a web serial with a strict schedule and a patreon seemed like the best way to force myself to actually finish my stories. If a handful of people were giving me a couple of buck a month, I wouldn't be able to just drift off to something else; I'd have to finish the story.

And it worked. I got a new job and wrote Curse Words on my off weeks, then that job ended and my Patreon was paying my new mortgage and suddenly this was just kind of my job now. And then enough people were asking for ebooks and paperbacks that I had to figure out how to make those happen. And this is kind of my life now I guess.

In terms of pros I would say:

Low barrier to entry/small steps of progression: You can just start publishing on a website for free whenever you want. You can make your own website for free and publish on that (I did). It takes five minutes or less to learn how to do and you don't need to buy anything. Your time commitment is mostly Writing The Story, which is presumably what you want to be spending your time on anyway. If you do it for 2 months and decide you hate it? You can stop. No harm, no foul.

No boss: You're beholden to your patrons and nobody else. You can write whatever the fuck you want, wherever the fuck you want, however often you want. The only deadline is the schedule that you yourself set, and you can set it to suit your lifestyle.

Payment model: The patreon/ko-fi sponsorship model is vastly superior, in my opinion, to making money via book sales. There's too many factors involved to really say if you make more or less money on Patreon, but what it has is predictability. Patrons come and go, but slowly. I can predict my monthly income from my supporters to within a hundred dollars or so. This is a massive advantage when you have bills to pay. Book sales surge unpredictably, and while you can bank on things like advances if you go the trad publishing route, these are few and far between.

Time: There are minimal delays in web serial publishing. No waiting months or years at a time for your book to chew through the machinery of a publisher, no long delays as your agent works or contracts are negotiated. Indie publishing is faster but still has far more delays than web serial publishing; most notably, you have to write the entire book first, often with little idea of how well it's going to perform. I don't do well with waiting periods or having to coordinate timing with others, so web serial publishing works best for me.

Marketability: Web serials have a far smaller audience than books, but they're also easier to market to that audience. For one thing, they're usually free, and it's a lot easier to convince someone to try a free story instead of buying one. For another, their one-chapter-at-a-time nature feels like less of a commitment and less intimidating to some people, even though they are traditionally much longer than books tend to be. Also, their chapter-by-chapter nature allows speculation and jokes and fanart and stuff to be spread while the story is still going, which is great marketing, especially when readers end up talking about it far longer than they would talk about a book (because they're reading it chapter-by-chapter for far longer).

But the biggest advantage in marketability is what I call 'rolling weight enthusiasm'.

When you're pushing a cart or something, it takes a lot of effort to get started, but once you're cruising at a consistent speed, you can rely on momentum to do half the work for you. You can build more and more speed with the same effort, because a rolling weight is maintaining that momentum. Writing a web serial is a lot like that; the consistent release schedule means that if you can get people invested, it's much easier to keep them invested, because they're waiting a very short period of time (a few days to a week, depending on your release schedule) to get more of the story. If you're releasing books, there might be more than a year between releases; you can keep a dedicated audience interested for that long, but it's much harder to hold onto the casual readers. There are so, so many book series that I've only read half of because at some point a new book was released and I didn't notice. If you write and publish books, you have to do a big part of the marketing all over again to let people know that the next one is out. Web serials don't have this problem. When's the next chapter out? soon enough that the previous chapter is still fresh in your mind. soon enough that you probably don't have time to finish the fanart this one made you think of.

Immediate feedback: Another great thing about web serials is that you can watch the audience reaction in real time. Not only that but, unlike with a book that people read all at once, you get very detailed feedback specific to each chapter. I don't mean people telling you about the story; reader suggestions and 'constructive criticism' is almost universally useless and can generally be thrown out. If you trust somebody's writing and editing skills enough to take feedback from them, you should ask that person directly; random readers are unlikely to be experts and unlikely to have accurate advice.

Instead, watch them discuss it amongst themselves. What did they get right away, and what are they confused about? what did they react most strongly to; is the dominant emotional reaction to the various characters vaguely in line with what you intended? Check the theories; how well are they predicting future events? (If everyone is guessing the Big Twist, then you need to put more effort into selling it so that it's not a let down; the less surprising a twist is, the better the writing has to be to pull it off. But if nobody is guessing the Big Twist, then you have insufficiently foreshadowed it. You're looking for a very high population of readers being accurate about the information they're expected to have gleaned, and a small population being accurate about twists and stuff, and you want that small population to grow as they get closer to the twist.) Checking these reactions can give you a better idea of what you need to emphasise, clarify, or foreshadow in the text.

[2knightt]

Hiiii! Can you do the outsiders gang with an s/o who models I feel like that would be interesting :)

↳but i’m into it, i’m into it.₊˚✧

➬ the gang x model!fem!reader

a/n;i love famous reader so much omfg. also, i love using chase atlantic lyrics for my titles. dont chase men, chase atlantic everyone.

Johnny Cade ;

believes that you are the most BEAUTIFUL person to walk the planet.

STRONGLY BELIEVES THAT.

probably thinks you’re too good for him.

PLEASE TELL HIM HE’S ENOUGH FOR YOU.

take him too your shoots and he will be blushing the whole time.

if you wear something that’s flattering to your body shape, he will explode right then and there.

“how do i look? should i fix my hair?”

“you look perfect.”

“you think?”

“…mhm.”

the gang seen you on a magazine cover and started freaking the fuck out.

“HOLY SHIT JOHNNY ISN’T THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”

“WOAHHH!”

“jesus…does she have a sister?”

“guys please stop.”

cuts out your magazine covers/photo shoot pictures and keeps them in his jean jacket pocket.

not in a weird way, just in a way that when he’s sad and you aren’t around he can remind himself on how lucky he can really be.

Dallas Winston ;

oh my god he never shuts up about how he got the hottest model ever.

“yeah she’s pretty n all but, my girlfriends a model so.”

“that’s so cool that your chick is…like that! but mines a model, so, she’s just better.”

buys steals all your magazines/any photo shoot you do.

any guy thats talks about you in way dallas doesn’t like, gets knocked out.

“i’d hit that.”

“yeah?”

“yea—”

dead./j

no but he would pull all his strength in that punch.

the gang thought he kidnapped you because no way in hell a pretty girl like you would go after dallas winston.

“y/n, blink twice if you’re kidnapped.”

“raise your hand if you need help, dude.”

“guys, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

you’re legit, all he thinks about.

he’s so whipped for a model girlfriend, if you asked him to jump he’d ask how high.

genuinely believes you’re an angel, will NOT tell you that to your face though.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

he gets so nervous around you omfg.

his palms be sweating n shit, stuttering and everything.

“he-hey y/n.”

“oh, hey pony!”

uses his favourite photo shoot of yours as a book mark. i can feel it in me bones.

he giggles and kicks his feet when he looks at that bookmark btw

draws you?? i feel like that’s his favourite pass time.

IF HE HAS TO DESCRIBE A STORY IN ENGLISH HE WRITES ABOUT HOW HE MET YOU OMFG AND THE WAY HE’D DESCRIBE YOU IN THE ESSAY??/?!:;&

he’d be so sweet with his words when he talks about you. i cant i love him so much

the gang is lowkey jealous that the youngest one out of all of them pulled a model.

“hey, don’t you model?”

“yeah!”

“what.”

“how did ponyboy get a date with you?”

“…are you guys serious? am i that ugly to you guys?”

Sodapop Curtis ;

POWER COUPLE OH MY GOD I CAN’T.

you guys walking in the street together probably makes people pass out.

literally nobody was shocked that you guys started dating.

the prettiest girl for the prettiest boy, it was bound to happen, c’mon.

he probably got into modeling because of you.

OH MY GOD IMAGINE DOING A PHOTO SHOOT WITH HIM???

he asks for his favourite picture of you two from that shoot to be printed out larger for him so he can hang it in his room.

like dallas, he will punch a guy for you.

“she’s hot.”

“she has a boyfriend.”

“so?”

call 911 cause that guys gonna need it in a minute!

showed steve a picture of you before he introduced you to the gang.

“oh my god soda. why are you dating a literal model?”

“why not?”

“but what else did i expect, you get girls daily.”

Darry Curtis ;

honestly, he couldn’t care less about what you do for work.

if it brings in money, it brings in money.

but the gang sure as hell does!

“YO ISN’T THAT Y/N L/N?!”

“THE MODEL?”

“yeah? how do you guys know her?”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW HER?”

“she’s my girlfriend, soda. that’s why i brought her here.”

“WHAT??”

i’d be lying if i said darry didn’t carry around a head shot of you in his wallet.

he doesn’t brag, but when the chance to talk about you comes, he takes the chance.

“good for her. huh? oh—my girlfriend models. pretty popular.”

when he sees a magazine with you in it for sale, darry snatches it so fast.

compliments you after he seen it.

“i like your most recent shoot, the makeup suits you.”

“you think, darry?”

Steve Randle ;

rocked the whole world when you guys started dating.

DOESN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT YOU.

“that’s so tuff soda, but y/n actually said—”

“nobody cares steve.”

“shut up and let me tell you what MY GIRLFRIEND said.”

STEVE HAS A PICTURE OF YOU TAPPED ON THE INSIDE OF THE TOP OF HIS TOOL BOX.

takes you on dates 24/7 just to show you off.

sometimes he lets go of your hand to see if anyone would flirt with you so he can punch them.

gang thought he held you hostage when you started dating ngl.

“you can do so much better, y/n.”

“dallas, shut the fuck up.”

“i’m just sayin’.”

“i will knock you out.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

HE’S SO WHIPPED FOR YOU IT’S DISGUSTING.

you have him giggling n shit.

his room is filled to the brim with photos of you.

not in a weird way, he just thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous.

tells you cheesy pickup lines, all the time.

“are you from Tennessee? cause you’re the only TEN I SEE! get it?”

would start a fan club for you if you asked nice enough.

introducing you to the gang was earth shattering for them.

“how??”

“what do you mean, ‘how?’”

“how did you pull her?”

“I PULLED HER WITH MY GOOD LOOKS AND CHARM, STEVE.”

“you’re so funny, two-bit.”

“like you falling flat on your fucking face yesterday?”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT.”

may 24th, 2023. 11:30PM.

tag-list ;

@diorgirl444, @typereader 🧍‍♂️

[justasecretflower]

Okay like imagine you teaching Satoru Gojo! Learning how to swear in English and him just going crazy with it.

Thanks for the idea chiefclown🤍

____________________________________________

Tapping my pen on the desk I look down at my paper. We were tasked to write everything we knew about domain expansion in 3 minutes on our paper. In reality, I transferred here because there were no schools in America for jujutsu sorcerers. So when I had realized I kind of needed to learn Japanese quick I choppily got down writing, reading, and being able to translate when I hear Japanese, but I still can’t get the pronunciation.

I could still communicate with my peers, though. Satoru Gojo came up with the bright idea of writing down on a piece of paper. In fact, he sat right next to me. He was a solid 2 feet away but I could still smell his mint and laundry detergent, which wasn’t the worst smell admittedly. While Sensei Yaga stepped out for a moment, Gojo immediately slid his notebook on my desk. I mentally sigh and look at the note book, translating what he said in my head.

:)! Heyy..you should teach me swear words so I can curse out Sensei Yaga -Your best friend Satoru

I give Satoru a quick glance and see him absolutely giddy, squirming in his seat and a huge cheesy smile that had just a hint of mischief. Clicking my pen I look down for a second, remembering what to say in Japanese, no, I wasn’t perfect at writing but to my defense I didn’t have a lot of time to practice it.

Satoru, If you take me on a shopping spree with all of your “strongest sorcerer ever” money I’ll agree.

I slid the notebook back to him, watching his sunglasses slightly fall to the bridge of his nose. Instead of rolling his eyes dramatically and giving up his lips curl upwards. He writes back, this time not taking him as long.

Deal! The sky’s the limit. >:)

Okay well, not only did I make a deal to hangout with Satoru Gojo, I have to make him more of a menace than he already was.

___________________________________________

I had two bags on my arm and Satoru talking my ear off. He suddenly grabs my hand, dragging me over to the cold booth in the middle of the mall. “Okay now..first one, how do you say fuck?” I blink.

“For the F sound your teeth go over your bottom lip, then uh, then a hard Kay sound.” I speak in broken up Japanese but Gojo clearly got it, mimicking the sounds slowly, each time sounding more and more clear.

“Fuck!” He yells proudly, his arms flying above his head as he lets out a huge laugh. Some passerby’s turn their heads, one lady gently guiding her young son away with her hand on his lower back. “Satoru! Stop yelling!” I whisper yell.

He lets out a small akward laugh, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and leaning in more towards my face to whisper. Getting a whiff of his minty breath and soft smell of cleanliness “okay, now bitch.” Satoru demands in a slightly lower tone. I think for a second now I’ll break the word up in English then I start.

“Buh…the “I” is coming from the back of your throat like “eh” then the ch is when you put your teeth together and go like…ch ch” he nods intently, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so focused, or even this serious, like, ever.

“Buh-itch.” “Bitch!” He almost yelled again, slapping a hand over his mouth and giggling like a little kid.

This was gonna be a long “lesson”

____________________________________________

I’ve created an absolute monster. Not that Satoru wasn’t one before but now he’s saying English swear words left and right. Speaking of him, Yaga is lecturing his ear off and I have an inkling he’s gonna swear again.

“Satoru you never take anything seriously! You should’ve taken care of the curse first not change your background and swoon over mei mei like an idiotic-“

“Fucker!” Satoru yelled, smiling like he was thanking Yaga and nodding. He was acting like he got the message and was oh so thankful for the input. Nobody but him and I know what he’s actually saying, and Yaga nods like he did something, walking away leaving Satoru giggling behind his hand.

Yeah, Never teach Satoru Gojo how to swear in another language.

Tags

[nyx-is-missing]

Could u write one for clarisse where she's impressed with femR bc of how good she is at fighting and all and clarisse finds her incredibly attractive bc no one has challenged her the way R does?

And like a bit of pining until the two confess

Thank you!!

Breathtaking or taken

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: when Clarisse finds a opponent worth of her, she is breathtaken.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, not a descriptive fight scene on sight cause mama dont know how to write that, so just fluff fluff, and mutual pining fluff

(Do i need to say its not proofread? No? Thank you)

Here is one of the main benefits of being a daughter of Athena, you'll know.

DIfferent from other gods, Athena will let your parent know it is her who they are talking to.

And if letting them know beforehand isnt enough, she will let them know when the baby is brought to them, and if your parent is smart enough to live up to her choice, you'll have time to learn a thing or two before being thrown into this world.

If your parent cares enough about you, you'll have time.

And sure as hell my mom cared.

Always the intelectual woman, historian, researcher, writter, my mom knew many things about ancient greece, she knew all the stories by heart, and she, of all people, knew what she needed to do, to preserve her only daughter, her sacred gift.

She teached me all i needed to learn without compromising myself, stories, languages, art...and fight.

Little girls my age were doing dance classes, were trying to be good enough for drama club, were playing tea party with their dolls or making a mess with their mom's make up.

Well...i.. i was doing martial arts, i was fencing, i had my face in a book every free time i got.

I always asked her about it, why was she so strict about never missing a fight leasson, her answer always made sense, there and now.

"The world is cruel, especially for little girls, someday i might not be all the time with you, someday, you'll fight your own battles, you need to be ready"

Every word, every single word is true.

And that is how i ended up here, in a arena of camp half blood, sparring with Clarisse, and winnig, by two points, yes, but winning.

It is clear nobody expected that from me, neither did she actually, i can see in her eyes.

Understandable, they expect Athena kids to be calm, find a solution, not fight her way out.

Honestly their looks dont bother me, i dont even think much of it, but Clarisse's looks, they got something more to them, like a kid who finally got the dog she really wanted.

"Aaand break time Clarrise, we'll continue this tomorrow, id like to enjoy the rest of my afternoon thank you"

I dropped the sword down and started to undo my armor while walking close to the exit.

"Wait wait wait, now? Already? C'mon i didnt even had time to figure out how do you do that... all of that"

She stood next to me, still holding her sword and honestly.. she was beautiful, yes she was sweaty now and yes she was mean to everyone but.. now...right now, she was beautiful, shining, in her element really, flushed cheeks and a smile she only had when with a sword in hand.

"I practice, ever since i was a kid, everyday, well expect in weekends but yeah, almost everyday... how do you do all that? You are good...-want some water?"

I offered her my bottle also motioning for her to walk with me, both wich she gladly accepted.

"I practice too...and i never said this to anyone but, you are good, great even, and look breathtaking"

We stop walking, we stop all actually.

"I look what, Clarisse?"

"Breathtaken- you look out of breath, do you want the water back?"

Ah.

Weeks later i found myself in the same scenario, sparring with Clarisse again, actually that is all i do when it comes to training, be with Clarisse

"C'mon curls, thats the best you've got? No need to go easy on me"

"Im not going easy, i already told you, you caught me distracted thats all- GIRL WIll YOU SUSH?"

She tried to block you with her sword, thankfully for her, a succeded attempt.

"How could i? You're so fun to mess with, gets all red n all"

"Oh you want to talk about getting red?"

In a moment i was on the floor, Clarisse on top of me, and i couldnt speak, all i could do was stare into her big brown eyes, who looked right into my soul.

"Cant speak anymore huh? Oh if you could see the red im seeing-"

Now this my ladies and gentlemen, this is what i call a shot of faith.

I raised my head a little and just..i kissed her, it was quick but I did it, and her face went blank.

"Now you are breathtaken Curls, how about that?"

"And you are still breathtaking"

Still?

Oh

Oh.

"You...like me Clarisse?"

"You didnt knew?"

Oh.

"....no..?"

"Would you walk away if i kissed you this time?"

"....no."

[aethelwyneleigh27]

More Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley and Taskforce Moments With Little Ghost

+ Featuring Los Vaqueros Uncles, Meemaw Laswell (and her wife?), Peepaw Nikolai, Aunty Farah and Uncle Alex

Did I use the same pictures as I did with the last posts? Yes, because these pictures are so Ghostie coded. Also there's like a slight ✨sprinkle✨ of Angst in there, good luck <3

Tag list: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui HAS THE BEST FREAKING COMMENTARY AND IS SO SWEET, SHE MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'M SOME AUTHOR WHO WROTE A FAMOUS BOOK, ILY CONNORSUI <3 (ngl, I go back to read her commentary over and over again because if how nice they make me feel 😭)

Pairings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

This is my personal AU, I don't think anyone has written on little Ghostie before I did. Not to say that there aren't any works on Dad!Ghost and his kids however Ghostie is a character of mine who holds such a special place in my heart, especially after I started writing more about her and how she acts around everyone.

Possible ships: Farah x Alex (Faralex)?? Alejandro x Rudy (Alerudy)?? Price x Nikolai (Nikprice)??

I know Halloween season is over but y'all can't do anything about this, it's been cooking in my brain for a while now. (Some of these are just regular scenarios though) Ghostie is back y'all!!!

❥ Ghostie who simultaneously made her way into convincing the Taskforce to go with her trick or treating, having her little army uniform that was commissioned for her, a bit visible underneath her pink puffy jacket. Yeah I don't think she's going to stop wearing it unless she's outgrown it, in which case, that would just break her big heart :((

❥ Simon holding little Ghostie's hand while she toddles, she would NOT go anywhere without either her dad's, her mum's or her uncle Gaz's hand. Having her tiny chubby fingers gripping onto two of her dad's fingers as he guides her up big steps. Catching her when she accidentally slips on the slippery steps.

❥ The rest of the Taskforce being behind her like a bunch of guard dogs, ain't nobody is gonna try and scare her because of the big burly men next to her. Photo was provided by my favorite artist last Halloween, @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie having the sweetest voice ever, she so polite, so much so that she makes the her dad and uncles chuckle at her. (This is how I imagined her voice to sound like)

"Say trick or treat.." Gaz whispers, coaching her from behind as someone from the house opens the door. Two women in costumes, holding a big candy bowl.

"trwick or trweat.." Little Ghostie mumbles, far too shy and almost hiding behind her uncle.

"What a cute costume you have there, here, take these ones" one of the women said, adding the candy to Ghostie's little basket.

"Thank you!" Ghostie exclaims, making the two girls awe at her politeness and eagerness.

❥ Yeah Ghostie definitely pronounces Halloween as "Ha-Hoween".

❥ I can't help but think that they came across that one house with a sign that said "leave your single dad's number if he's attractive" and as a joke, uncle Gaz threw in a piece of paper with peepaw Price's number on it, only to have peepaw Nikolai fish it out of the candy bowl when he thought no one could see him.. but Ghostie did.

Not Halloween related:

❥ Safe to say that when uncle Gaz doesn't like someone, neither does Ghostie, if you all can recall that cutscene from mw3, Gaz did NOT even bother to acknowledge Philip's existence. That being said, Ghostie gives the nastiest side-eyes to him the moment he even opens his mouth. (Yeah she got from her dad)

❥ Ghostie absolutely loves getting head pats and giving them, to her, it's one of the best forms of praise. Anyone gives her head pats gets to witness her absolutely adorable reaction, the way her eyes light up, those little lips curling into a smile causing her chubby cheeks to be prominent and her eyes squinting. Mostly loves doing it to uncle Soap, because the mohawk is fluffy.

❥ Maybe at some point, when Philip decides to behave then he can earn the head pats from Ghostie.

❥ Meals with the Taskforce and Ghostie are a certified hit, she has quite the appetite and she shows it. Simon takes it upon himself to always does what his wife does at home when he's out with Ghostie, bringing her silicone bib and baby utensils. (Even the bulky ass highchair attachment that he keeps in that back of his car/truck)

"More please..." Ghostie says, making grabby hands, in the middle of chewing after observing that her plate is yet again empty.

Price chuckles, looking at Simon who was now careful about the amount of food to add on Ghostie's plate because the toddler is on her third round of food.

❥ Ghostie enjoys clapping her hands and anything as well, especially after eating and being satisfied.

❥ Ghostie is into tea, her dad got her hooked on it.

"Aye, what about you Ghostie? What'd you like?" Soap asks the little one who's currently keeping herself busy with her custom coloring book.

"Tea!" She says, looking up for a bit to Soap before focusing back on her coloring.

"You heard her Johnny, make that two.." Simon says with a pretty firm pat on the back for Soap.

"Fuckin' Brits..."

❥ Auntie Farah and uncle Alex are the babysitters when uncle Gaz, uncle Soap and peepaw Price ain't around. Farah loves that kid to death, if she was being honest, she saw a lot of resemblance between Simon and Ghostie. Of course there are looks were, she's basically a carbon copy of him but also mannerisms;

❥ Ghostie who copies her dad, being adamant about being cleanly and tidy, oftentimes catching people surprised that she tidies up after herself immediately after playing before moving onto another set of toys, coloring books and coloring materials. She notices and mirrors how Simon is consistent in keeping things tidy and out the way.

❥ Whenever Ghostie is at home with her momma (you) and Simon had to run errands, she always wakes up first, seeing how her dad gets up early too.

Ghostie rises up with a soft yawn, rubbing her tiny eyes with her hands, she looked around at the still dimly lit room. She turned her head from side to side looking for her dad.

She was met by him standing and dressing himself up in a black hoodie to go out and buy something. She gives him that cheek to cheek smile before leaning her cheek and closing her eyes, mandatory kiss from dad before he left.

"Alright pumpkin, dada's leaving now. I'll be back later, be good and don't give momma a hard time.." Simon reminded her after giving her cheek a kiss.

"Okay dada- promise.." Ghostie yawns mid sentence.

❥ Ghostie who, ever since she way younger, loved to cup her dad's face and nuzzle her nose into his. A tradition that Simon doesn't know if he's ready to see it go when she grows up. Neither is he ready for her to start correcting the words she's been pronouncing wrong;

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart broke once he realizes that the "I love you"s will slowly start to be less and less when she becomes a teen, he's silently wishing to himself that it won't be reduced to not being said at all. You had to reassure him that it won't happen, not when Ghostie's the sweetest little girl anyone could ask for and Simon is the best dad anyone could as for.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Rudy being the seasoned uncles who happened to be absolutely adored by Ghostie, not as much as uncle Gaz but let's be real here, no one is on uncle Gaz's level.

❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Soap having bets and arguments on who gets to reach their language to Ghostie while she just sits there on uncle Rudy's lap, sipping on her apple juice, quite entertained.

❥ YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT RUDY ISN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING HER TO SLEEP OR NAP, that man is a walking heater. I can just see him standing there while holding her in his arms while she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep, yawning "Uncle Rudy.." before immediately snoring, snuggling her face into his soft blue hoodie shirt. (@icarustypicalfall is living for this, I just know it)

❥ Alejandro who gets smacked in the back of the head by (his husband) Rudy for being too loud and almost waking Ghostie up. (Alerudy when? This is a joke to y'all Alerudy haters, I like the ship, it's cute. Not sure if it's canon here in my AU, up to you guys to decide)

❥ Laswell and her wife absolutely fucking adore Ghostie, shit she makes them want to have kids, she has almost the same effect on almost everyone. Silently making her uncle Gaz wish that he isn't single.

❥ Let's be real here, peepaw Nikolai was the one who Ghostie jammed with while listening to heavy metal. He also got her this mini leather jacket that matched his, with her nationality country/countries flag/s embroidered patch on the side. I can just imagine her little head bangs that peepaw nik taught her 🥺😭.

❥ Also Ghostie has access to almost everyone's prized stuff, uncle Gaz's and peepaw Price's hats, uncle Soap's medals and even peepaw Nik's jacket which looks like she's swimming in it when she's wearing it.

❥ This pic is so Dad!Simon and Ghostie coded:

❥ Something tells me that Simon would send you this pic and you'd probably have a heart attack, your husband isn't the best driver after all but you trust him since he won't put your daughter in imminent danger.

❥ I think most of the time, Ghostie is in her uncle Gaz's arms and/or lap while he sits on the passenger seat, doesn't really matter who's driving.

My past works on Ghostie, in case you haven't seen the posts before this one on my most favorite mini Ghost:

Little Ghost (Drabble)

TF141 Interacting with Little Ghost Hcs

This was far longer than I expected, I just love Ghostie so much and I just have a lot to say regarding her.

A/n: This is now an official taglist for most of my generic CoD works, none of these people asked to be tagged on my mediocre content and I understand that, if y'all wanna be removed from the taglist then y'all could tell me privately or on the replies if you guys prefer it :))

Sidenote: Is it normal to be so excited over something you bought? I literally bought my first ever concealer today, a mascara that I've been looking for and lip oil. I was so excited that I squealed when I got home and immediately used them. Any makeup tips that you guys have? Sort of a beginner at this stuff.. Also does anyone whose had viral posts ever feel like their popular strike is over because none of their works get as much attention? Looking at all my recent posts and hyperventilating because the numbers are lower by so much.

[jade-jini]

YOU BETTER WRITE VIRGIN LOSER G!P MINJEONG WHERE SHES LIKE

“y/n i have no idea where your clit is can you help me out :((??”

and then once she shoves her cock inside she’s like “damn its so… tight um nngh” and then she cums bc shes such a loser

OMG my first ask is one of my fave writers🙊 Imma flex yes bdjdndk 😎

OK BUT all this starting because I was bullying minjeong in the chat so you know I have to make it virgin loser g!p jeongie x bully (but not really) reader.

Going from daily annoying her; taking her books and stretching so she won’t be able to reach for them, pushing her out of the way, stealing her dessert knowing damn well she was excited to eat it :( “Thank you Jeongie I was hungry byeee” and you would kiss her on the cheek, making her shy and buying you enough time to run away with the food “y/n wait! That’s unfair :(” like poor puppy 🥺

To constantly teasing her. Trapping her against her locker every morning, saying “good morning Jeongie” right on top of her lips making her sigh and completely blanks out, teasing her every time she talked with a girl and looked shy or nervous (minjeong didn’t know this was out of jealousy ‘cause why is anybody talking to YOUR loser?), calling her out and telling her she was such a virgin, Sitting on her lap before the class starts and she just gasps because you keep moving. Why are you doing this to her??? when you have a perfect chair right next to her (yes, she was your seat mate, how unlucky for her huh?) And she just doesn’t have the courage to tell you to move (plus even tho it was wrong it felt too good). You’re so busy saying how she’s such a nerd because of her little Pokemon stickers and plushies that mind you were a gift from her other nerdy friends (yes the other Aespa girlies), that you don’t notice how you’re affecting her 😭 until you feel something hard against your ass and when you instinctively were to get up she automatically grabs your hips to stop you fbdkdn

“Oh someone is enjoying herself a little too much huh little pervert? You’ve probably never had a girl on your lap before.” you whisper in her ear with such a mean smirk and she just whimpers because it’s so embarrassing that is true:((( she got hard in class and right in front of her crush bully. She was gonna panic and then you just “Don’t worry puppy, I’ll help you after class. Just behave until we’re out.”

AND MINJEONG IS ABOUT TO LOSE IT ‘CAUSE NOBODY HAS EVER SAID SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO HER???? but she’s an obedient puppy so she does as you say. She was trying to distract herself from the literal fear she was feeling thinking about what you were gonna do to her. She has never done shit with nobody so she was genuinely nervous 😭 until she felt your hand under her desk, teasing her over her pants. Minjeong looked at you almost begging you to stop because that poor creature felt like she could come right there in that classroom, but you simply told her to stay quiet with your finger, so she had to endure the rest of the lecture with her boxers wet with her precum 💀. After class she got up super fast, covering herself with her bag actually considering running away feeling too scared of pussy but you grabbed her arm firmly.

“Your car or mine?” You asked her. She gulped, catching herself unable to escape you. “wait you don’t have one I remember. You’re always walking home. Lame. C’mon.” Why are you so mean 😭

“A-are you sure that’s a good idea? I thought you were joking…” she said with her little shy voice 🥺 she’s so pathetic and cute. The reason you loved annoying the sht outta her was because of how endearing you found her! She was such a cute little loser who just needed to get ruined.

You rolled your eyes and simply dragged her to your car. Once you got to your place you lost no time and pushed her to your bed, straddling her and kissing her and when I tell you Minjeong can’t stay still 😭 she doesn’t know how to act or what to do she just knows 1. She needs to get her pants out of the way NOW and 2. You were the only one who could help her right now. “Y/n.. please” she’d moan, feeling you moving on top of her again, this time with much more intension. She kept pushing her hips up trying to get more friction. “God you’re so desperate, can’t even let me have my fun before we start” you’d scold but bro fvck you you were just as desperate, you just knew how to hide it better. But it became too hard to hide the way your mouth was almost drooling once you put minjeong’s pants and boxers down because this girl is BIG. And not only big but also idk her dick is just so.. pretty?! Knfkfj like it just looks so amazing, size aside Idk-

So you wasted no time and put her dick inside your mouth, as deep as possible and goshhh minjeong’s eyes went completely to the back of her head. She’s never felt such sensation. Getting deepthroated during your first blowjob is an experience not a lot of people get so she was lucky af “aghh.. y/n.. oh my..~” she’d moan your name so softly it was almost heart melting. That if it wasn’t ‘cause she was literally balls deep inside your throat- anyway. She did sound both so hot but so cute, moaning and whimpering and grabbing your hair a little bit with her shaky hands Aww. You thought she was just a sensitive one but oh stupid you how didn’t you notice it was more than just that??

Once you could feel her breathing a little too irregular, knowing she was close, you got up not wanting her to come yet. You heard her groaning and laughed at her. “Shut up, you’re not the only one who gets to feel good here are you?” You teased her while getting completely naked and Omg 😳 minjeong’s face got sooo red ‘cause she has never seen a girl naked before. So she quickly covered her eyes and you thought she was just a shy loser bsdjfn “I literally just had your cock in my mouth what are you so shy about” “y/n! Hmmm…”. But she said nothing else and once she took her hands off her face you were lying down right in front of her, looking like a goddess and Omg 😵‍💫 her brain stopped working. She’s trying to learn so the best next step would be to get closer and kiss you right? Yes. So that she does, getting in between your legs trying to do it as confident as possible. “Fuck me, jeongie~” you whispered in her ear and gosh she was so ready for it but also so naive about how that was gonna happen 😭 the few videos her useless pervert friends have shown her are those where you can’t see Wtf is going on between the couple’s legs. Her cock was right against your clit (but she didn’t know that lmao) so when she moved and you moaned ‘cause of the friction, she connected it with her doing something right, so she continued but since the contact was also making her feel good, she started moving faster and a little.. abrupt 😭

her cock moved up a little too much. She was too shy to look so the tip literally ended up resting on your bellybutton BSKSNSKS. Minjeong didn’t notice it but you did. She rubbed it against your body a little bit and for the first couple seconds you thought she was just trying to tease you in her own weird nerd way but you grew both tired of that and desperate to feel her deep inside you already so you told her to stop playing and fuck you already. Poor thing panicked again 😭 she grabbed her cock and stared at it and then at your pussy, not knowing how was she supposed to do this 💀but you were always teasing her about being a virgin so at least you knew and it wouldn’t be so weird if she asked for help right? Right?

“Umm.. y/n?” She’d start, clearly confused and nervous. Which made YOU confused ‘cause why the fuck wasn’t she inside you yet?? “It’s just I’m not sure how.. you know.” And Omg that’s when it hit you. “I don’t wanna do something wrong or hurt you or-”

“Hold on. Minjeong.. have you done this before??”

“Hmm? No? I-I thought you knew. You’re always calling me a virgin!” She answered in a defensive tone lol but that’s ‘cause wdym you didn’t know 😨 now she was even more nervous and embarrassed!

“It was just to tease you! How would I know that? But gosh you are pathetic.”

“And you’re so mean :(” Dbdkfn Aww leave her aloneee🥺🥺 “could you ugh.. help me out please? I wanna make you feel good :(” and Aww how could you be mean to her when she was saying those things and asking for help with such a cute face 🥺 you just sighed and rolled your eyes before smiling at her softly.

“Here.” You started, grabbing her cock, making her groan and bite her lip (that woman is hot 🫵🏼). “So right here is the clit, pay attention to this ‘cause the more you stimulate it the better I’ll feel.” You explained to her, teasing yourself with the tip of her cock. And she just went ohhh :o with those puppy eyes she has dndnfk fvckin loser melts my heart istg. You started guiding her a little lower, so she could finally get inside your hole. You decided to move and get the tip inside yourself which with how big she was, was already your own little challenge “g-god.. now you just push it more.. a-and fuck me already.” You told her, already needing more of her. And so she slowly started pushing her cock deeper and deeper inside your pussy, mumbling about how good you felt, her head already in the clouds. Once she was fully in, you let out a big trembling sigh trying to get used to such a big thing inside you. Minjeong was trying her best to stay in a slow tempo at first, worried she might hurt you because you had a painful expression 🥺 but baby didn’t know that it was both hurting but feeling so fucking good. Until you basically ordered her to go faster, while your nails went to her back.

So she started fucking you deep and fast, making you moan so loud which only motivated her to go faster and faster “God you’re so tight.. so warm… hmmgn feels too good y/n… y/n!” She’d cry with a string of voice. She was pounding you so good, grabbing your legs and sucking on your nipple like a fucking baby. It was all way too good. Before you were even closer to your own climax tho she was already coming inside you 💀 poor loser barely lasted but cmon cut her some slack she is a virgin anyway. Plus you can always train her so she’ll get better with time 😌(and when I add cockwarming her in the future then what). She came so much inside you it was dripping down your thighs once she pulled out and it looked so fucking hot… but poor baby felt embarrassed :c

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to finish so fast, you just feel too good..” she said out of breath with a pout :( Aww she thought y’all were done silly puppy.

“It’s ok, it’s not like we’re done anyway” you told her and she just tilted her head looking at you, until you turned her around and started riding her 😭 you hadn’t come yet >:( you didn’t care if it was her first time or not, you were gonna teach her how to make you come with her cock from day one. And that’s how you spent the whole night milking that girl until she actually passed out ‘cause of the overstimulation bdidnds. Needless to say her cock was still inside you as you both fell asleep <3

Y’all’s morning routine barely changes dnndkf. Just that now you drive her to school whenever you spend the night together and take her home after class. You keep teasing her every morning against her locker, but now before saying good morning (like you didn’t see her literally the moment you woke up) you actually kiss her, always pulling her lip making her lose her train of thought and she just sighs and follows you to the classroom with the silliest dreamy expression in her face 😭 she’s such a cutie.

(puppy! minjeong agenda preacher here as you noticed)

[isupposethisisagoodusername]

I know that it's very popular but I don't really like much the idea of Damian being murderous and super serious with his family and a sweetheart with Jon and maybe friends.

I find it stupid.

I do smile and think it's cute when I see Damian being cute with him, but the idea of him being the biggest and baddest assassin ever when not around him just, doesn't make sense to me?

I think Damian hugs his family and gives them gifts and can be a sweetheart with them.

He'll cling onto Bruce and be carried around like a small child because he probably adores the affection

He'll laugh at Dick's shitty jokes because he knows it's sort of Dick's crappy way of showing affection and Damian pays back by laughing

Sure, he won't flat out laugh a lot in the beginning until he's very comfortable with him, maybe a not frown, then a little twist of lips, then a small smile and soon enough he's giggling like a kid who really admires his older brother and will laugh at whichever stupid shit he does (me fr fr, I'm usually acid and don't laugh a lot but I swear to god, my brother makes a funny face I am dying with laughter)

He bonds with Jason and they sit on rooftops late at night, talking about the League and Talia and Bruce and getting used to it and they sit in the library and read together and Jason presents Damian his favourite books and Damian gives him animal themed bookmarks that he drew himself and Jason picks one for each favourite book and they both adore it.

With Tim I think it'd be a bit slower but once the breaking point is reached they'll be thick and through. They'd probably bond over some smart people thing or discussing theories or smart people things, maybe attack strategies or languages (though languages sort of are Bruce's thing) or homework or skating.

Sometimes Damian can't sleep and he doesn't want someone worried (Dick or Bruce) over just some insomnia and he'll knock on Tim's door and they don't need to say anything because Tim can see it, he sees it on the mirror every day, how could he not recognize it?

So he opens the door and lets him in, Damian sits on the bed and Tim grabs the extra pillow that has the density Damian likes but Tim can't stand. The pets come in after a bit but by then they're already both asleep.

I don't know how to write Steph, Cass or Duke or nobody else, so please add to this with bonding with them and Damian.

Tim will be some days playing videogames and he'll tell Damian about his favourite ones and the kid probably adores animal crossing and Minecraft. And every time they fight they'll meet in the Minecraft world when they're ready to make up and they'll make up.

With Alfred it'll be more subtle, it'll start with Alfred learning Damian's favourite dishes from home and Damian will absolutely learn how to cook to give him food too. He'll give him hand painted aprons, cup holders so the towels and table cloths don't get wet or stained (yes they're animal themed let the boy be autistic & obsessed I am projecting fuck off) and he'll absolutely paint Alfred pictures of Thomas & Martha, and pictures of the current Waynes and he hangs both together.

I can add more, I certainly can but my bus is almost at my stop.

So heading over to Jon.

With Jon he'll start out careful and demon brat-y because that's how he is with strangers.

He'll eventually warm up to him, laugh at his shitty jokes that probably remind him of Dick in the beginning until he realises that isn't the affection show, that's a way to try to get Damian to smile which probably pisses him off in the beginning but he does warm up to it.

What he realizes is the affection show is physical touch and quality time so Damian endures that because he himself ends up growing affectionate towards him and he appreciates it and then he ends up enjoying the physical touch and quality time too.

I personally see Damian as a gift giver & menacingly gets rid of your troubles (acts of service).

So he'll give Bruce gifts, he'll give him things to collect and trinkets and things he made himself.

He'll give Dick art and things Dick wanted to buy or whatever.

He'll give Jason books and bookmarks and probably weaponry.

He'll give Tim tech things and alien stuff he probably stole and when Tim gets sick he'll absolutely do all his homework and Wayne stuff

He'll give Alfred aprons, cup holders, mittens, seasonings, books, ties, tea sets, and anything Alfred lets on that he likes and paintings of people Damian knows he loves.

He'll make animal themed things, paper weights, bookmarks, decorations, computer set up decorations, he'll paint their jackets (Jason probably came up with that once he saw a cool jacket and asked Damian if he could paint something similar).

He'll gift Jon flowers and also pet themed shit because yes and other useless shit Jon probably appreciates.

He will also do things to help them out.

Maybe one day Bruce gets down to the cave and finds the whole place organized and the reports he had spent weeks delaying are all done and the ones he has to read has resumes on top and there's fresh coffee ready and there's a new cup holder under his favourite mug.

Jason goes to the library or his apartment or his room and finds a brand new hand painted wooden shelf with his books meticulously organized the same way he'd organize them and there's shelf nook thingies (those decorations themed to book worlds) of his favourite books and he knows damn well Damian did those and there's a note on the bookshelf telling him to pull a specific book that Jason wouldn't really read and he pulls it and there it is, hidden, all his criminal stuff which was previously shoved into the closet.

Dick will find a book with animal jokes on his desk and maybe new kitchen utensils and a cook book and a new coffee maker on his apartment and the place is suddenly cleaned up and a set of new cup holders

Tim will find info on people he's been tracking or whatever, if he's sick all his homework is done and set into a neat pile, Damian will absolutely clean everything up and organize it and Tim also gets a new coffee maker and new cup holder

Alfred he can't really help much so he'll help by setting the plates together after dinner and helping remove the table cloth, he'll clean any dirt he sees before Alfred does.

With Jon he'll help him do his own homework because Jon is probably more interested in knowing how to do it rather than having it done and so, Damian will help with it and teach him tricks and things to do

And don't fool yourself for one moment thinking he doesn't give them all nicknames.

Sure, Jon's beloved.

Alfred's is grandfather in Arabic don't let him find out he already knows

Alfred's is probably grandpa in Arabic or something he doesn't call Ra's by. Don't let him find out. He already knows

Tim will probably be spleen because Damian will absolutely make fun of him for it, but correct me if I'm wrong, I saw it on a Tumblr post I have no real sources, but I think Arabs give nicknames that are like organs or something? So Damian will nickname him spleen either in English or another language first sort of as bullying sort of you're important to me and then it'll turn out a caring nickname

Jason I don't really know which would be but probably some nickname Talia could've given him while he was in the League and Damian copied or something like that.

Dick I don't know either, maybe something to do with Robin and maybe the circus but I don't know.

I know both of them are nicknames probably in the same style as Tim's.

Bruce's dad in Arabic because I'm clichê, let me be.

Alfred's is probably grandpa in Arabic or something similar since he won't call him the same thing as he calls Ra's, and don't let either find out. Alfred already knows

I know it's very characteristic for him to call them by last names but understand my boy was not comfortable and familiar with them yet.

I'm sick and tired of people seeing Damian as murder child instead of child because that's what he is

Jason wasn't the angry Robin, Dick was, so maybe Damian can be not murder Robin. I'm sick of that shit

Let the child be soft. He soft. He squishy. He animal lover. He artist. Yeah, sure, he's a trained assassin, he's super smart and well trained but have you considered that I don't give a fuck about cannon

Also Talia and Ra's and the assassins were darlings with him fucking fight me I'll punch whoever wrote them otherwise

He spends holidays with the other Al Ghuls however the hell holidays work for the total amount of Damian's relatives

Let my boy be soft and squishy and child because he may be totally Jon's boyfriend but he wasn't tamed by Jon.

His family loves him and he loves them back.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince short stories highlights & annotations

pet

(takes place during book 1: captive prince)

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.

Ancel was a virgin the first twelve times he had sex. The thirteenth time, it lacked all plausibility.

‘You could buy out my contract.’ ‘How much?’ He made up a figure. There was no Lord Arten. Ancel landed his first contract that day: three months of his time, signed over to the merchant’s son.

‘I’ve never done it in public before,’ said Ancel. ‘You’d be my first.’

ancel leveraging subcategories of his virginity. smart

‘You’re not going to take him away from me, you slut,’ said the boy sweetly, murmuring the words too quietly for anyone else to hear. ‘Too late,’ said Ancel.

vere sucks. but i think ancel is playing the system more effectively than like anyone else there

Was this how men felt fucking him? No wonder they paid a fortune for it.

Fucking Lord Rouart, fucking every lord here. Being watched by everyone while he did it was like a blinding white light.

veretian society fucks ancel, ancel fucks veretian society harder

The room exploded in approval, cheers, calls of his name. He could hear shouts of suggestions, ribald calls to Lord Rouart in the thick excitement of the crowd.

there have to be at least a few people in vere who are not into this, but just kind of playing along to keep their—wait isn’t that the other guy in this short story

He was going to meet his new owner, and his new owner was going to fuck him.

ancel does not understand how cs pacat writes sex and power dynamics. nobody ever gets what they think they’re going to get

‘So, you saw me in the ring, and decided that you just had to have me,’ said Ancel. Berenger looked up. ‘No. I hate the ring.’ The words were matter-of-fact. ‘Parsins, hand me my jacket.’

i think i am going to really like berenger.

‘How old are you?’ As if Ancel hadn’t spoken. ‘Sixteen.’ Berenger gave him a flat look. ‘Twenty,’ said Ancel, the truth coming out with a flash of annoyance that he had to work hard to keep out of his voice.

He tried to recover. ‘And you?’ said Ancel, in his most velvet voice. ‘Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?’ ‘I’m riding to Ladehors.’ Berenger was walking right past him, he was—was he leaving?

most normal guy in vere

Ancel had seen with his own eyes that Berenger owned six identical copies of the same brown jacket.

oh i love this character

He was dressed in a loose shirt of simple white linen and plain trousers, his red hair tied back in a casual tail with a single leather tie. He looked up when he heard footsteps, and then stood quickly, closing the book. An unaffected young man, rising startled to greet his friend. ‘My lord,’ said Ancel. ‘I’m sorry, I—you took me by surprise.’

this is so funny. ancel pretending to be what he thinks berenger wants him to be, which is just like another normal guy

'Oh this?’ A hand to his mussily tied back hair. ‘I wasn’t expecting you back so early. I can change into something more—’ ‘No. You look handsome.’ Berenger stopped and shook his head. ‘That is, when we’re not at functions, you should feel free to wear whatever you like.’ ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Ancel. It was Berenger who took a step forward. ‘You’re reading Isagoras?’ Berenger was looking at the discarded book with its scrollwork pages. He looked up at Ancel in surprise. ‘What do you think of him?’

i like how ancel is doing a reversal of the makeover trope. he was hot and glamorous before, and now he’s trying to make himself look like a boring nerd

Ancel couldn’t read, but he had planned all this from the moment Parsins had pointed the book out to him.

LMAOOOOOO

Ancel ate the plain food with the good manners of a merchant’s son, and none of the teasing flirtation that marked his own profession.

what are you talking about, there’s never been a mention of homoerotic bread eating in this series before

It happened in the library one night several weeks later, as Berenger was talking about politics. Ancel nodded and half listened while Berenger said—blah blah the Prince, blah blah the alliance with Akielos—

‘In the end, aren’t we all looking for someone to be loyal to?’ said Ancel, softly.

ancel really just went down the checklist of things he was told berenger likes (loyalty in friendship in this case)

also, a note from post-reading the entire story sam: YES YOU ARE, ANCEL.

‘Is that what you want?’ said Berenger. ‘It’s what I never thought I’d find,’ said Ancel, ‘until I met you,’ and it was happening, finally, it was finally happening, the two of them drawing closer in the firelight, Ancel’s arms sliding around Berenger’s neck, leaning in to— ‘Ancel—no.’

‘You may have made assumptions,’ Berenger spoke first, not looking at him, ‘after I bid for you in the ring, but I—’ For a moment, Ancel didn’t understand. And then suddenly the rejections and the refusals made sense. ‘It doesn’t have to be like it was in the ring,’ Ancel said in rush, relieved to have discovered the root of the problem. He hastened to reassure Berenger. ‘I don’t have to be the one who does that.’

ancel i don’t think this is a top/bottom thing, i think berenger isn’t drinking whatever horny flouride they have in the water in vere and is just disinterested in the pet stuff

He waited for Berenger to get it. Berenger didn’t seem to get it.

because that’s not what berenger meant!! this dynamic is very fun. extremely self-assured and aspirational guy who only knows how to leverage sex and schmooze, vs chill-ass guy who is not really trying to get anything out of anyone and therefore not thinking or trying too hard

‘You can fuck me,’ Ancel explained. Berenger’s eyes went wide. Was that the wrong thing to say? ‘I’ve always done it that way before. It’s what I’m good at.’ That was the wrong thing to say, too. ‘I mean, I want you.’ That was better. He should have said that first. ‘I want you.’ He moved a step closer, made it personal. ‘The way you want me.’ ‘Ancel, you don’t have to—’ ‘I want you to fuck me.’ ‘That isn’t what I want.’ ‘Then what do you want?’ Ancel said, in pure frustration.

world’s first reverse beard has been invented

‘In six weeks,’ began Berenger, ‘I’m attending court. As a single man, I need a pet to attend dinners and functions with me. For propriety’s sake. That is all. I don’t expect intimacy in private. In fact I prefer in private that you—that you and I—’ ‘Court?’ Like a flower inclining towards sunlight, Ancel’s whole attention swung to the thought. He barely heard the rest. ‘You’re taking me to court?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘The royal court. At Arles.’ ‘Yes.’

such a fun premise for this story. ancel has a reason to stay (social climbing), berenger has a reason to need ancel (appearing to follow customs). surely they can help each other accomplish their goals while keeping this impersonal and professional, with no eventual mutual understanding or friendship or romance.

‘Well, I’m going to need a lot more jewels,’ Ancel said, his annoyance returning with a snap. ‘I know you like boring young men in cotton shirts, but I can’t wander around the palace looking like this.’ Berenger was staring at him again, like Ancel was a stranger he was meeting for the first time. Ancel lifted his chin. ‘What? I intend to make the most of our time at court. I am incredibly good at my chosen profession. Not that you’d know that.’ ‘It’s possible I didn’t realise how good until now.’ Berenger was still gazing at him with that new look in his eyes. After a long moment, ‘Do you even like horses?’ ‘I can’t read,’ said Ancel. ‘I see,’ said Berenger.

okay yeah i LOVE this. mask off for ancel, meanwhile berenger hadn’t even bothered to pretend in the first place. i mean he’s pretending in front of the court, but not ancel. it’s just nice that they’re on the same team, unlike SOME PEOPLE i’ve read about during this rough period of time in vere

The next morning, Ancel threw away the plain white shirt and the simple leather hair tie, and came down to breakfast in the clothes that he liked: exquisite silks and velvets that felt good against his skin, wearing his hair pampered and long and out. Berenger didn’t say, ‘I see,’ but the implication was there in the heavy weight of his regard as he looked at Ancel across the table. Ancel lifted his chin, ignoring all the uninspired foods that Berenger liked and biting into a fruit tart.

this story has done a great job of making me like ancel and berenger in a short amount of time. strong moments of characterization (the fruit tart, the jackets, etc), more simple and less subtle than damen and laurent, but still very fun to notice and appreciate

‘The horse I chose for you has arrived,’ said Berenger. ‘She’s a strawberry roan named Ruby. I wonder if you’ll like her.’

berenger and ancel’s first official date is a chappell roan concert. red hair and horses.

For his part, Ancel stopped trying to seduce Berenger, and started enjoying himself.

Perhaps Berenger preferred women.

i don’t think this is where the story goes, but i would actually kinda like if they were just friends, and that was in fact the case. or even better, ancel assumes berenger is straight and that’s why he’s not interested, but berenger is eventually like “no i like men, i’m just not attracted to you” or "i don't like my partners being 10 years younger than i am"

Every commoner in the province had a story about Lord Berenger: Berenger had remembered the name of their child; Berenger had stayed with them through the birth of their prize colt; Berenger had helped them with the purchase of equipment when they had none, saving the harvest.

berenger could not have been involved in the main series. i think he’d break the reader’s brain compared to laurent because he’s just like. a normal and decent person despite the horrors, and not trying to hide it beneath a million layers of complicated bullshit

‘No. I meant that the court has changed,’ said Berenger, shaking his head, ‘since the King died. The Regent’s influence—’

hate that guy

‘What?’ said Ancel. ‘Luxury suits you,’ remarked Berenger.

god i wish this could stay platonic. THAT would be the true subversion!

note from post-reading the entire story sam: with the full image we eventually get of ancel, i actually think it's even better that berenger admits that he desires him. it would feel kind of like a cop-out for the answer to ancel's unspoken question of "would anyone like me for who i am, if my attractiveness was not a factor?" to be "yeah this guy does, but he never would have been into you in the first place." it's even more effective, and even more a subversion of what ancel thinks of himself, for berenger to find ALL of him attractive—his ambition and talent and intelligence, in addition to his looks and performance—and not want to reduce ancel to the sex object that he (ancel) thinks he has to be.

Who was the new pet? How had he come to serve Berenger?

i’m getting the impression that the previous king of vere had not required people like berenger to have pets, but the regent does. which is why berenger hired ancel

Berenger then knelt for the Prince, who was standing to the left of the throne, a severe young man in harsh clothing.

GOD i hope i get to see a little bit of laurent being a withdrawn dryly comedic sitcom side character before damen arrives and it sends him into joker mode

Lady Egere had a horse program Berenger was interested in, so Ancel made her feel like the most important person in the world.

berenger not beating the normal person allegations. like yeah, that is what people do at dinner parties. they talk to other people about shared interests. good job, berenger.

And when everyone was talking about the Prince, and the conversation swerved uncomfortably towards the new Akielon alliance, Ancel stepped in and told the whole table a risqué story he’d heard about Akielon bed practices, diverting attention.

laurent sighs and makes a mental note to be slightly less hostile to ancel for that accidental favor

Even Berenger laughed when he got to the punchline.

‘I love them,’ said Ancel. ‘I’d sleep with you right now. I might even enjoy it for once.’ He stopped. ‘High praise,’ said Berenger, dryly. ‘Of course, with you, I’d—’ ‘Oh, of course,’ said Berenger.

oh NICE moment. ancel admitting that he doesn’t actually like any of this shit he’s doing. and berenger implying that he’s always understood that.

Another day, another brown jacket.

i love the brown jacket as a means of characterization and comedy

‘In blue or red, you could look quite handsome.’ It was something Ancel had noticed on the third morning, in the early light from the window. Berenger had a strong profile, good bone structure, and warm eyes. His waist, where Ancel was lacing, was trim, his body fit from riding. ‘Let me pick your jacket.’ Berenger sounded amused. ‘You don’t like my jacket?’

you don’t like his jacket????

He didn’t let Ancel pick his jacket.

good to know he has his hard limits

They had a good system in which Ancel filched the delicious confectionaries and special sweets and left Berenger all the plain stuff he preferred.

i love this for them!!!

‘I can’t believe you’ve never visited the coupling gardens. Do you feel no desires at all? Come on.’ ‘Ancel, I don’t think that—’ ‘Look, it’s those flowers from that boring poem that you like,’ Ancel announced proudly. He stood in front of the spray of white flowers. Berenger had stopped. The flowers were night blooming, filling the air with a delicate scent.

ancel please don’t talk about poetry in the mindfuck blowjob garden

‘You’re right,’ said Berenger. ‘They’re very beautiful. And rare. In the poem, the lover is given only a single flower.’ ‘What a terrible gift. I’d much rather have jewellery,’ said Ancel, wrinkling his nose. ‘Or clothes. Even the horse was better.’ Berenger’s mouth quirked, his eyes shifting from the flowers, amused and warm. ‘Yes, you’re a little more expensive.’

THEY SHOULD STAY FRIENDSSSS please!!! i want to see their odd couple not a couple adventures as neither of them actually falls in love bc they’re married to the grind (literally for ancel, figuratively for berenger). then again, we know that ancel doesn’t actually like being a pet, so i can see how this ends up a romance that works. but STILL

'I like feeling—’ Like part of it. Like the master of it. Like he had power over the men, like if they wanted him they had to pay a fortune for it. Like he was more valuable than the wine goblet Berenger held, or the silver pitcher a servant had poured from. Like he mattered.

ancel understands exactly how this stronger man/weaker man thing works, in that the weakest man is the one who forces others to the bottom so he can be on top. but berenger doesn’t do that, except for appearances. and he’s very clear that he knows it’s all bullshit too.

‘Perhaps I ought to think of it more like that.’ ‘How do you think of it?’ ‘I think,’ said Berenger, ‘that the only person in this place who shows me their real face is you.’

berenger: i’d probably be happier if i just allowed myself to enjoy the luxury and debauchery ancel: wait so what do you think instead berenger: that this is all fake and stupid as hell, and you’re the only one with the awareness to understand that and use it

‘I can make everyone look at me.’ There was the familiar frown, like an old friend. ‘Ancel, I told you I don’t want—’

“like an old friend” because he IS your friend, because he appreciates you for who you are, not for the ways you can perform

Gasps as they burst into flame, and Ancel tossed the stick high, a spinning wheel of dangerous light.

how did he like. learn how to do this. this isn’t something you can just do on a whim. although i guess it does suit ancel to play with fire

That was part of the thrill, sensuality and danger. He had everyone’s attention now. He tossed and twirled, and it was easy, all of it coming back to him, his childhood days before his profession had changed, before the escalating series of favours, until the moment he had finally agreed to it. You have to pay me extra. It’s my first time.

very effective way to give backstory: he was a performer, and then someone propositioned him for sex, and then he realized the possibilities of going into that kind of work full-time. it put the power in his hands, and people did in fact pay him more when he asked.

‘You’re full of talents, aren’t you,’ said a boy’s voice, and Ancel turned. The boy was very lovely and very young, with huge blue eyes and a tumble of brown curls.

my heart hurts

‘Since you like to play with fire,’ said Nicaise.

extremely bittersweet to have nicaise say one of my own thoughts

‘I’ve heard that Berenger likes women, and that he disappears sometimes from court, so that he can—’ Ancel flushed. He left the main hall and made straight for Berenger, who was sitting in an adjoining antechamber, on one of the long reclining couches, amid a handful of acquaintances, talking in small relaxed groups. ‘Kiss me,’ said Ancel as he settled, one knee on the couch on either side of Berenger’s thighs, his hands linked behind Berenger’s neck. ‘What?’ said Berenger. ‘On the mouth,’ said Ancel.

yeah they invented reverse bearding

Berenger was beginning to frown. Ancel thought, with a burst of irritation, I know you don’t want to, but can’t you just pretend? How hard was it? Ancel pretended all the time. Berenger had a reputation to maintain. But if Ancel said that, Berenger would probably reply with something idiotic like his own reputation didn’t matter to him.

ancel is so perceptive, compared to damen it’s like. jarring

It didn’t feel impersonal. He was instead extremely conscious that it was Berenger that he was kissing.

uh oh

His lips were tingling from kissing Berenger, and that didn’t seem to make sense.

UH OH

‘Like you mean it,’ said Ancel, and kissed him again.

UH OH!!!!

‘My lord,’ he said, and he sounded turned on, which was how he was supposed to sound. ‘Berenger.’

love ancel being in denial about having feelings

Ancel closed his eyes. He could imagine exactly what Berenger liked, lovemaking in the dark with a young man in a plain shirt. If they ever—Ancel would have to feign at least a degree of innocence, physically experienced but emotionally unprepared, looking up at Berenger and saying it’s never been like this before. He imagined that: imagined Berenger kissing him in private. A strange shaky feeling grew in him. Berenger would kiss with the same seriousness as he was now, he probably fucked like that too, strong and steady. Berenger’s voice in his ear, roughened. ‘You’re so good at faking it.’ ‘I know,’ Ancel said. ‘I know I’m good.’

ancel is down BAD for this brown jacket man, holy shit

‘How long do we have to stay here?’ Berenger said. ‘What?’ said Ancel. ‘How long do you normally take?’ said Berenger.

wait. so ancel in the garden scene. was half trying to make berenger jealous and half trying to convince himself that he’s better off doing what anyone else but berenger would ask him to do. and failing to convince himself entirely. LOVE that alternate perspective, so cool!!

It took a moment before he understood the words, and their meaning. But the way Berenger was standing off from him, like a man who has had his evening interrupted for a charade in which he has little interest, made everything clear. Ancel pushed down the feelings in his chest, closing his eyes briefly.

ouch

‘All right,’ said Berenger, and stood there, awkwardly. Ancel heard himself say, ‘Unless, do you want—’ Me. Do you want me.

i love how free will continues to be a theme in this series, even when we’re not discussing damen and laurent. specifically regarding desire and attachment, romantic and sexual. ancel doesn’t actually want to be the person he pretends he is, lowering himself beneath his masters and helping them get off on the power they have over him; he wants to be understood and wanted for his whole self. and berenger is like the only person he’s ever met who has wished to see him as something other than a sex object or performance piece, the only person who doesn’t wish to intimately possess or control him. berenger seems to want to experience love on even footing, which in vere is highly unusual. no wonder ancel is desperate for his interest, when his interest is actually REAL.

He thought, he could make Berenger like it.

free will theme again! he made berenger like it, it wouldn’t be real. and ancel wouldn’t like it either.

‘I think we both know this isn’t working,’ Berenger said in a low voice. ‘This,’ said Ancel. Berenger wasn’t looking at him. ‘I’ll pay out your time in full. We can separate after you perform for the Patran delegation. You can tell people your contract simply came to the end of its time.’ ‘You’re ending our contract,’ said Ancel.

BRUTAL. and the thing is, berenger is being kind and selfless here. ancel has told him with words and actions that he only cares about upward social mobility, and has made it seem like berenger is holding him back. berenger is putting himself at a huge disadvantage in the regent’s court by letting ancel find another employer, but probably feels like this is the best way he can genuinely honor ancel’s stated wishes. sad little miscommunication moment, although i don’t think it’s fully that trope because ancel only subconsciously realized how he feels like five minutes ago

‘Everyone will want you after your performance. You won’t have trouble finding men to bid for you—’ ‘I know,’ said Ancel. ‘I’m the best pet at this court.’

ancel does his fire dance to “my kink is karma” by chappell roan as he desperately tries to repress his feelings

He didn’t know why, but the next day when Ancel saw Berenger talking in a low voice to Lord Droet’s pet, it made him angry, and he stalked out of the stuffy, overlit rooms, into the cool shade of the gardens.

oh, captive prince chapter 5 dubcon (and that’s generous) scene that damen took way less seriously than myself or even laurent because he (damen) grew up with sex slaves so this is kinda normal to him. oh, captive prince chapter 5 dubcon scene that, despite its problematic nature, was and still is extremely compelling to me, by which i mean unfairly hot

It was the Ambassador to Vask, her face familiar to him from a dozen evening entertainments. Ancel knew her sculptured style of dress well, the Vaskian elements she incorporated into her clothing. She had the straight-backed posture and poise of a woman used to power.

VANNES HIIIII VANNES

Vannes spoke. ‘You and Berenger are utterly mismatched. And you’re clearly ambitious. I hope you won’t hurt him too badly when you move on.’

she sees the version of ancel that he knows is wrong for himself, but he’s leaning into it because berenger’s kinda-rejection hurt so bad

Everyone would think what Vannes thought, that Berenger couldn’t hold Ancel and Ancel was moving on to someone better.

i like how this is so high stakes to ancel, for good reason, but we know that there are way higher stakes batshit insane things happening with damen and laurent right now. but ancel doesn’t care about damen and laurent. he cares about himself and berenger. just a really cool way of showing another pov for the same story!

Ancel thought of the impossible. For pets, it was epitomised by one man. The Prince. The Prince, who had never taken a pet. The Prince, who had never taken anyone, or been taken, so they said. They said he was frigid, that he had ice in his veins, that pets failed to interest him. But there was one person who had the Prince’s complete attention.

YHRWYOEGRUYWEGRUYWERHBFSDF

By the time Berenger and the others arrived, Ancel knew exactly what he was going to do.

i LOVE having this context, wow! it doesn’t really change the nature of the original scene, but adds dimension in a super satisfying way. i also really like how this works with the general vibe of book 1—it feels so isolated and depraved to read, you’re wondering “holy shit is everyone here besides damen just a terrible person?” and that’s the point, but with this addition from another perspective it’s like, hey, berenger was there the whole time. normal nice decent guy, caught up in the same shit as everyone else. who had only been trying to be kind to ancel and give him what he wanted, and most certainly did not want him to do what he does here. it reminds me of loyse, and the way she’s incorporated into the main series—so much of damen and laurent’s experiences early on are defined by struggling alone, but they’re both less alone than they thought, both in terms of sympathetic company and people dealing with the same problems they have. this is seen both in the way they are with each other, especially with the slow burn of 'Laurent is Not As Bad As Damen Thought He Was With More Context,' and the way people like loyse are slowly revealed by the narrative. it's just neat. if i ever re-read captive prince, i’ll be like, “oh it’s berenger!!!” and the scene will, in some small way, feel less isolated.

Physically imposing, and dripping with disdainful pride, he looked as though he could break any handlers in half.

love this description of damen as having “disdainful pride,” because so much of his internal narrative is considering himself a victim, which he is. but also, he is very disdainful towards this society, and prideful about his own. damen himself admits that he had prejudices and misjudgments towards vere and blind spots regarding his own society at the end of king’s rising, and it’s cool to see ancel get that impression immediately.

The younger blond slave pressed his forehead submissively to the floor, a pose that seemed designed to make you want to step on his head. Ancel found himself unaccountably irritated by the passivity.

obviously both systems are bad, but if you read my main series annotations you know i’m very much in agreement with ancel here

Berenger was frowning.

normal! reaction!

He looked scornful and unimpressed when his eyes passed briefly over Ancel, Berenger and Vannes. His only movement was to shift slightly, a rearrangement of muscle.

i looooove seeing damen from the outside, wow

Arriving in the bower, the Prince of Vere was instantly commanding, with nothing soft or yielding in him. A young man with golden hair, cold blue eyes and an arresting profile, he had a pet’s looks and a Prince’s bearing, laced up tighter than Berenger, in dark, severe clothing. He looked capable of mastering the slave through force of will, as though the slave’s discomfort was his pleasure.

good to see, in this case, that laurent is very much perceived exactly how he is trying to be perceived. we know that this is for his own safety, and it isn’t harming ancel at all. unlike in captive prince book 1, where damen is being directly harmed by laurent and his rancid vibes, albeit for stronger reasons (he knows who damen is) than either damen or the reader understand.

‘Ancel, no. He could hurt you.’ Ancel ignored Berenger, and spoke to the shoulders and back of the Prince.

this is so cool. when i read the original scene, it seemed like berenger said this out of like, petty distate for akelions and maybe jealousy. but now we know it’s because berenger thinks that this is all fucked up, and doesn’t want ancel to get hurt by his own ambition

‘Would you like that?’ Berenger frowned. ‘No. I wouldn’t.’

“would you like that [i get hurt]?” oh ancel :( and you know that he thinks berenger would, or at least wouldn’t care either way. because ancel is just 20 and emotionally undeveloped and seems not to have been truly cared for in his life

again, i assumed originally in this scene that unnamed berenger said “no i wouldn’t” because of jealousy. but that isn’t true! berenger already told ancel that he can leave! he just actually cares about ancel!

The Prince turned, and Ancel found himself the sole subject of the Prince’s attention.

i like that we know he isn’t, because the only living people capable of completely hijacking and consuming laurent’s large capacity for thought are the regent and damen

‘I think your master would prefer you intact,’ said the Prince.

in captive prince, it adds, “said laurent, dryly.” but it’s not dry to ancel, he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that laurent is deeply unamused

‘You could tie the slave up.’ He saw the moment the Prince took in the idea. There was something more in the Prince’s eyes, something private, though it was only there for a moment, before the Prince’s expression hardened.

well yeah, but he’s not thinking about you, ancel.

Ancel looked Berenger right in the eyes. ‘Tell me how you want me to fuck him.’ ‘I don’t want you to fuck him,’ said Berenger. ‘I do,’ said Ancel. ‘I want to do it with you watching.’

new dialogue, things damen didn’t hear! i think i kinda explored what’s going on here in previous annotations

You mean with the Prince watching, Berenger didn’t say.

this is strange. at first it seems like uncharacteristic pov head jumping, but then it’s like no, this is what ancel THINKS berenger isn’t saying. ancel cannot imagine that berenger’s reluctance here could be for any other reason than, like, petty jealousy of the prince. when in reality berenger just cares about ancel and doesn’t want him to get caught up with insane terrible people

Instead, Berenger frowned in that way that he had, turned to the handlers, and gave some instructions about safety.

so they DO have safe words in vere. although maybe berenger just invented them, that sounds like something he would do

Drawn by the rarity of the spectacle, a few other courtiers had drifted over, and then a few more, a small audience gathering.

love the mention of rarity, since damen assumes that this is totally normal

Ancel didn’t need Berenger. He was going to do it with the Prince’s slave, in front of everyone. No other pet had ever won the Prince’s attention.

ancel i know you were just dumped for the first time but this is not the slay you think it is

The slave’s eyes lifted to meet Ancel’s for a moment, radiating fury, before he turned the full force of it on the Prince, who just stared back at him coldly.

don’t worry about it. they’re fine

He wasn’t a court pet, or a brothel client. He was an Akielon, named for the Akielon prince-killer.

oh my god. imagine ancel’s reaction when he learns that he had unknowingly given the future king of akielos a bj

Ancel could see, as he put his hands on those thighs, that the slave disliked him. That was irritating. Did he think Ancel was salivating to suck his cock? Pets had to do things they didn’t like all the time.

obsessed with the way ancel is projecting berenger onto this. a really neat subversion of the way he intentionally and performatively projected that other guy in order to win his favor. also fun because in the scene from damen’s perspective, ancel is very literally a projection of laurent. neither ancel nor damen are imagining this with the person actually doing it with them. is this what the “mutually unrequited sex” ao3 tag is for

It had been a long time since Ancel had given head, thanks to Berenger’s prudery. It was disconcerting, uncomfortable at first, like he didn’t want to be this close, or put his mouth on it. He pushed past the feeling. He was good at this. He knew what to do and how to do it. The uncomfortable feeling grew. The slave was too stupid to realise he was supposed to be performing.

the way it’s almost a good thing that ancel is uncomfortable right now, because it means that he’s in some small way breaking out of the fucked-up mentality he’s grown up with

love damen and ancel as foils, in terms of pride. ancel takes pride in his willingness to get his hands dirty and perform submission for social clout, damen takes pride in his unwillingness to get his hands dirty (compromise his morals) and give his submission to those who don’t deserve it. but while damen's pride is held up by honor and integrity, ancel's is held up by his own degradation.

How had he ever achieved a court position, with skills this poor? Wasn’t he trying at all?

if you really think about it, damen was a nepo hire

Ancel felt the slave jerk, his cock hardening as the Prince settled himself on the bower seat alongside them.

well, damen, i guess someone noticed how you feel about laurent

i don’t even think laurent fully notices how down bad damen is for him at this point. i think laurent just believes damen is a depraved pervert ruled by his base urges who uses sex slaves and finds him hot just like everyone else and also KILLED HIS BROTHER

‘Like this?’ The wait was deliberate, to make the Prince say it. ‘Like that.’

5d three-way dirty talk happening here. it’s not four ways because berenger definitely has clocked out by now

‘Take it all the way down,’ said the Prince, and Ancel took it deep into his throat.

i like how laurent’s dialogue is slightly different between the two scenes, and damen doesn’t register some of it, and ancel doesn’t register some of it. cool way of writing the different perspectives and showing the things that are distracting both of them, causing them to think about things other than laurent’s words. ancel is mostly thinking about how he can do this in a way that gets him noticed and hired, while damen is mostly thinking about how absurdly turned on he is by laurent being insane

Ancel half expected the Prince’s hand on his head, pushing him down the last inch, but when he glanced up, neither of the men were paying him any attention, their eyes locked on one another.

sorry ancel, they gaze a lot. it’s kind of their thing

He came up without coughing or needing a breath, a cultivated skill that was often admired.

not by damen or laurent, at the moment

It didn’t matter that the Prince didn’t seem pay him any attention, or that he was only a conduit. The slave wasn’t even looking at him. It was what he wanted.

ancel when he lies

The two of them were locked together, Ancel utterly forgotten as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

god that sucks ancel but it’s also so fucking funny (as i said in the capri chapter 5 notes, i am not taking the dubcon as seriously as i could because the book doesn’t take it seriously in this scene. damen’s rage isn’t at the lack of consent, because this is actually pretty normal to him, and not seen as demeaning in his society for a slave to do. i think more than anything else he’s mad at himself for being into this, which means that he’s mad at laurent and ancel for making him confront the fact that he’s into this)

Courtiers crowded around with accolades, comments, and congratulations. ‘You really are the perfect pet,’ and ‘I’ve never seen anyone take it like that,’ and, ‘I’d pay a fortune for you.’

but it doesn’t matter, because they’re not berenger

Berenger had a hand on his shoulder and was staring into his face. Ancel lifted his chin. ‘Did he hurt you?’ The words were short.

😭 😭 😭 😭

‘I liked it,’ said Ancel. ‘I like sucking cock. I’m a pet.’

ancel when he continues to lie

Torveld, Prince of Patras

oh i hate that guy

It was the blond slave from the bower. The insipid, spineless creature who made you want to pinch his skin, or shake him to wake up. Like a useless doe in a forest. Expecting someone else to help him. With looks like that, the blond slave could have owned this court if he’d put any work into it. Instead he was trembling and helpless and waiting for a rescue that was never going to come. It was irritating.

yeah. if not for my distance from both of these worlds, and the fact that i can afford to be more empathetic and thoughtful than ancel, this is about where i’d land too re: akelion slaves. (if you read my previous annotations of the series, i probably don’t have to tell you that.) i just like how strongly and disdainfully this is written, while still within itself being flawed. like he’s right, but it’s a sad kind of right. it’s pointing out the problem but disinterested in a solution. but it isn’t ancel’s job to have a solution, it’s the narrative’s job. and we see that happen, in a very careful slow burn from damen’s pov, during the main series.

i can’t believe people think that this series is slavery apologism. 99% of the time, this series is DETERMINED to hold itself painfully and uncomfortably responsible for the problematic content it contains. and that 1% is different for every person who reads it, based on their personal tastes and values. and that’s good, because even our favorite fiction should be something we engage with critically, rather than passively accept.

‘A whole night with the Regent?’ Ancel twirled the stick. ‘Aren’t you jealous?’ ‘I’m not jealous,’ said Nicaise. ‘You’re old.’

‘Then the Regent will call you to attend him. Everyone will see you sitting with him. That’s what you want, isn’t it? The bids for your contract will go up.’

i’m going to try to remember why this is happening. i know it’s some elaborate and probably petty bullshit. i think it’s something like 1) laurent got his ethics called into question by the guy who killed his brother and then 2) decided to do what damen asked and help the akelion slaves because he knew it was the right thing even though he hated damen so bad, therefore 3) laurent needed to create circumstances that would cause torveld to “save” them from the regent without his (laurent's) direct intervention so 4) laurent antagonized nicaise into making a bet that his (laurent’s) plan to get torveld to take the slaves wouldn’t work and then loudly talked about that plan in front of nicaise, prompting 5) nicaise to arrange a sadistic performance of slaves for the regent so the sadistic regent would want to keep the slaves, therefore winning nicaise the bet against laurent 6) which laurent knew would literally backfire because the fire would frighten the slaves and then prompt to torveld take them out of sympathy and pity. yeah i think that's it

It made Ancel angry. This mewling creature who had been brought to court and lavished with every opportunity that Ancel had worked for, was doing nothing to advance his own career, even now. But in the next moment Prince Torveld was calling the slave over, and—rather than booting him out of the hall—was fussing over him, talking to him, stroking his tousled blond head. Ancel gaped. Prince Torveld was taking the slave into his household? For what? For being too weak to survive at court? The unfairness was terrible. If Ancel had wanly lain down and waited for a rescuer, he would have died in the street.

i really like this short story. i like ancel’s character, and what the story is trying to say. it fits very nicely with the overall series themes about weakness/strength, submission/domination, and free will. also intimacy and trust, although that’s almost by omission.

‘Tell me about your master,’ the Regent said. ‘Lord Berenger.’ ‘He’s boring,’ said Ancel. ‘Serious. Loyal.’ ‘Loyal to my nephew,’ said the Regent. He spoke pleasantly, tweaking Ancel’s hair as he did so. The sharp tug hurt.

WOAH THIS IS COOL. we hardly got to see any of the regent’s private contributions to the complicated vere court nonsense in captive prince (there was that scene where he talked to damen alone, but that might have been it?)

‘Loyal to the throne.’ Ancel’s heart had started beating faster.

i like how the regent equates his nephew with the throne. so different from how he talks to laurent in front of the council. clearly, out of earshot of anyone who actually matters politically, the regent is threatened by his nephew.

‘I’ve heard he’s met with my nephew, several times. What was discussed?’ ‘I couldn’t say. I wasn’t there for the meetings.’ He kept his tone light. ‘So there were meetings.’

berenger you’re so real for that

His mouth felt dry suddenly, and it was hard to swallow. He thought of Berenger in the hall somewhere behind him, wondered if Berenger was looking at him, thought he probably wasn’t. ‘No. I mean that I don’t know—I don’t know what meetings he’s taken.’

ancel can tell that berenger is in danger, and even though he thinks berenger wants nothing to do with him, he tries to protect him

‘Oh dear.’ The tone was disappointed. ‘I thought you were clever.’ The Regent shifted, forcing Ancel to reposition, awkwardly. He was motioning for one of the servants to approach, looking past Ancel as though he was done with him. ‘I am.’ Ancel’s heart was pounding. ‘You just haven’t asked the right question.’ ‘And what’s that,’ said the Regent. ‘If I’m loyal,’ said Ancel.

and here’s the temptation of ancel finally getting what he’s always said he wanted, he just has to throw berenger under the bus. he tries to avoid this by making berenger irrelevant and putting the attention on himself, but we know that the regent does not give a shit about ancel, politically or sexually.

Ancel watched him turn away, watched him enter the darkened part of the rooms that held his bed, beginning to unlace his own jacket. ‘I didn’t tell him anything.’ The words were a blurt, delivered to the back of Berenger’s shoulders. Berenger’s movement came to a halt.

i really like ancel.

‘About you and the Prince. That you’ve been meeting secretly each night. That you’re taking his side, that you’ve offered him funding and passage through Varenne, I didn’t tell him any of that, I thought that you—’

oh shit it’s that deep!!! fuck yeah berenger! wait does that mean that berenger had been loyal to laurent and thinking he was an admirable person for months/years only to see laurent in full sadistic kinky joker mode with a person who he doesn't know is laurent's brother's killer? do you think he was like "oh great, he's actually a freak too. fuck my life"

Berenger turned. Berenger was across the room, his hands on Ancel’s arms, gripping him tightly, his eyes boring into Ancel’s. ‘Stop it. You’re spoiling my clothes. I didn’t tell him. I told you. I didn’t tell him anything.’

oh, ancel immediately thinks he’s going to be punished and stripped of the nice things he’s been given. that’s so fucking sad :(

‘How do you know about any of that?’ ‘Just because I like nice things, and don’t read the boring books you like, doesn’t mean I’m stup—’ ‘This isn’t a game, Ancel.’

most! normal! man! in! this! series!

‘I’m trying to secure my future! I need to go somewhere. After you—after you end my contract.'

true, and explains some of the desperation ancel typically chooses not to acknowledge because of his pride

‘So that’s it. You want gifts?’ Berenger said, in a flat, deadly voice, ‘Are you trying to blackmail me for money?’ Ancel felt his mouth turn to sand. ‘No.’

ancel doesn’t want gifts! he wants a friend!!! i love this story, especially in this shitty world!!!!

‘I don’t want—I told you, I didn’t tell him anything. I wouldn’t. I was your pet, I thought we—I don’t want your money like that—’

going to be HUGE when ancel learns how healthy friendships and relationships work. people just do nice things for each other, and are loyal to each other, because they care and it’s what they want to do

‘You must hate me.’ ‘Hate you?’ said Berenger. ‘Why would I hate you? You’ve always been honest with me. You never tried to hide what you were.’ ‘A whore,’ said Ancel.

oh fuck.

really, really good choice of a word there. it’s easy to get caught up in the insane gimmicks of the veretian court, the slight dark humor to it, the way pets act like they’re playing the game willingly because this is a way for them to be treated well and showered with praise. but deep down, this system exists so they can be perceived as whores, belonging and submissive to people whose power rests on their degradation. and deep down, that’s how they feel about themselves.

goddamn, it is cool to see the worldbuilding expanded upon from this perspective.

‘So what if I am? I’m not ashamed of it. I’m good at it. I can make men want me.’ His voice felt raw. ‘It just doesn’t work on you.’

FREE WILL, POWER, AND TRUST THEMES DING DING DING

Berenger would be just one more owner, one more man from his past, one more name on a list. There was a hard pressure in his chest that he had to ignore. He would turn and walk away from it, he would move on to the next man, and the next. ‘It works on me,’ said Berenger.

okay, i like it being romantic, i think. because just like damen and laurent, their friendship and romance are deeply connected. and i’m glad that these two characters can find each other and be REAL in the midst of the fake nonsense

The words, in Berenger’s honest voice, at first didn’t make sense.

ancel can’t accept praise if he knows the person giving it is being honest, understands who he truly is, and expects nothing in return. girl same

‘You’ve never—’ ‘You never wanted me to.’ ‘Is that what you think?’ said Ancel. ‘Yes,’ said Berenger, steadily.

berenger clocked that ancel didn’t really want to be any of this long before ancel did, and has always respected that. i’m glad that he exists in this world.

‘If the Regent prevails, I won’t have money or lands. You should be with someone who can give you the luxuries you deserve, not someone who’ll embroil you in—’ ‘That’s why?’ said Ancel. ‘That’s why you decided to break my contract?’ He made sense of that much. And he clung to it. He wanted to ask, Does that mean you’re not giving me up because you don’t want me? He didn’t know how to ask that. He was usually so good at asking for what he wanted.

this is so fucking good. oh my god, this short story has been like a masterclass of creating a contained and intimate plot that develops a character individually and in relation to another character, while using the world around them to synthesize relevant and gratifying thematic development. it just comes together so perfectly, and simultaneously feels laser-focused and extremely wide in scope. SO good.

‘Can you honestly tell me that you’d want to stay with me if it meant risking your position?’ Berenger said. ‘If I had no money?’ ‘I’ve never fucked anyone without it being for money.’ The words came out differently than he’d intended. The painfully straightforward way that Berenger had asked him that question meant that Ancel had given an honest answer.

they’re matching each other’s freak, if "freak" means “honest person moving towards a healthier state of mind.” meanwhile, damen and laurent—

It was Berenger who spoke. ‘When I saw you in the ring, I thought you were incredible. You were fearless, powerful. You took on every lord in the room, and beat them. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’

oh i go crazy for “i want to possess you because i am compelled by your unique and attractive qualities and i want to keep you by my side, not because i want to degrade and reduce you until you’re beneath me.” which is probably why i really like the captive prince series by cs pacat, but not like 80% of fiction with similar kink-related premises

‘I don’t care what might happen.’ He was moving forward, because Berenger wanted him.

oh.

those two sentences didn’t quite get me to tear up, but uhhhh they came pretty close

‘If he fails,’ said Ancel. He was stepping into Berenger’s space. He put his hand on the laces of Berenger’s jacket, and Berenger didn’t move away. ‘But if he wins?’

:’) the metatextual conversation this story has been having with the reader the entire time, tied in perfectly with the events at the forefront. really, really well done.

final notes:

not going to lie, i think i liked this short story more than 40-60% of king’s rising. damn.

honestly, i kind of hope ancel and berenger don’t end up together immediately. berenger is still 10 years older than ancel, and is like the first person in ancel’s life to show him respect. what rings truest to me is the idea of them being close friends and allies especially during the turbulent wartimes, and hooking up a few times and enjoying it, but a much more confident ancel eventually considering other partners and at least making more friends. either ancel doesn’t end up romantically with berenger because there’s someone even better suited for him romantically and sexually, or he decides that he truly does want berenger because even though there are other people who would love him for who he is, none of them are berenger. either way, they’re close friends the entire time and it’s very sweet. i like them a lot.

[melodic-haze]

want Himeko x Male reader, groping her chest ending up having sex😞

☆ — DEMO TRACK: bottom!Himeko x top!amab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader with a dick :3, cum eating? Cuz ik some people aren't into it

☆ — NOTES: At the end of the day it's essentially semantics when it comes to writing in 2nd person (you/your instead of gendered pronouns) but I don't do male reader content sorry 😞. Most I can do for you is amab but otherwise I write gn or fem 🤷‍♀️ I'll still do this though bc this is silly :3

It was essentially rest day for the Express, hooray!! Pom-Pom's navigating the train to your next destination so the Nameless actually get time off for once

You're spending it wisely by relaxing in Himeko's room and breathing in that rich smell of coffee in the air from all her daily brewing, the both of you out of your usual outdoor attire and in some looser, comfortable wear. You swear that you originally didn't mean to have things escalate beyond cuddling her as she read a new book she bought from the last location, though

Or maybe you did 🤷‍♀️ the universe may never know.......

It's just that....just laying there? Like okay sure you get time off which is GREAT you're not whining about that but like........there's nothing to do. You can't really help it when your hands just idly wander around here and there, exploring her body for something to do......

"Ah--"

You don't stop your minstrations on her chest, though you do look up at her face with a slight smirk, "Something wrong, Himeko?"

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised in a mix of amusement and a struggle to keep her composure, "Oh, no, nothing. I would like to ask of what you're doing, though."

..Your smug look is no more, easily replaced by a much goofier grin, "I'm exploring as a Trailblazer."

She snorts lightly, amusement growing at your little jest, "A Nameless' work is never done?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, then, it would be remiss of me, to stop you from doing what you do best." She presses a kiss on the top of your head, "Go ahead. Though remember to.. use the resources you have around you."

"Mmhm." And you lift your head to gently bite on the bone of her collar, "I'll do you proud, trust me."

You continue your work on her tits as she resumes her reading (or at least tries to). At first you squeeze them gently, seemingly curious of the initial reactions you get an my GOD even as you're just starting, her reactions do NOT disappoint

I wouldn't be surprised if Himeko's REALLY sensitive to having her boobs played with just sayingggg❗️❗️ The effect's worse on her in this situation bc she hasn't got a bra on—why would she need it when neither of you are going anywhere? She's probably wearing like a thin button-up w panties on and that's it. Easy access for both you AND her, really, cuz MAN is everything else restricting 😞 so likeeee just hold her tits for her instead 🥰

At some point you can hear her breathing pattern quicken as you feel her slowly grinding on your thigh. She's letting out these noises that sound so unbelievably obscene, coming from the ever-so-composed woman that you're holding onto. Of COURSE you want more????? Wth I sure do!!!!!

She ends up dropping the book to the side, probably on the floor somewhere (she'll definitely lament ab it later but rn it's the least of her worries), and she hastily tries to unbutton her shirt bc "it's way too hot in here" even though she's fooling NOBODY when she takes one of your hands and puts it on her now-naked chest

PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO HER NIPPLES OH MY GOD squeeze them, flick them, lick them and suck them just PLEASE it'll drive her absolutely fucking CRAZY

Oh and if you think you're doing all the work??? Oh please she wouldn't leave you high and dry like that, she wouldn't be Himeko if she did!!!!! Her hand would be wandering down until she's able to palm your dick through the fabric of your clothes before actually taking it out and servicing you the best she can

It doesn't really take long for things to escalate further—you're as hard as a rock, she's wet from your constant fondling, both of you are practically aching to feel connected......so that's what you do

You climb onto her as she takes off her panties, guiding your cock onto her slit before pushing yourself in, and the moan she lets out is loud. It's like her sensitivity's even more heightened compared to your usual sessions, and all you did was play with her tits relentlessly

Speaking of, do NOT stop playing with them bc I guarantee you she'll be reacting even more than usual: it feels so fucking good to her that her insides are practically clamping onto your dick as you fuck her. Bonus if you duck down to suck on them and bite her mounds, switching between them as you squeeze and play with the other one, all while pistoning her (god help you if you don't know how to multitask (jokes she'll follow whatever pace you set))

And as tempting as it is to cum inside her when you feel like you're about to explode, trust me when I say if you pull out and cum on her chest instead it'll be SO very worth it. Cover her tits, give a classy woman a pearl necklace

She'll be left at her peak, only for her to stay there bc of the lack of release. She ends up playing with herself, both her chest and her her clit, to satisfy herself even though it's not enough—by GOD it could never be enough.. but the sight she sees as she looks down at her cum-covered mounds definitely has her going even more

You watch on at the show Himeko was essentially giving you, entranced at how her hands squeezed her own chest and played with her own nipples. Her golden eyes, usually so vigilant, seem to be clouded out and dazed as if she were in a trance.

And perhaps she was, with the way her fingers went to scoop up the ivory cum that covered soft skin before putting it in her mouth and licking it up until her digits are all clean. Without skipping a beat, she does it again, except this time her covered fingers easily slip deep into her cunt briefly before she retracts them.. though not fully, as she spreads her wet folds open for you to bare witness to.

"I don't need to beg, do I?" She asks, despite her expression showing that she's well on her way towards becoming completely dumb for you, "Why, mm.. why don't you explore even deeper?"

When you start up all over again, it's VERY clear that neither of you are going to be done for a good while. Neither of you would have it any other way (more like don't complain bc it's your fault you have her all riled up like this 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

Safe to say you found something to do.......and that everyone else will probably give you shit about the noise in the morning LMAOOOOOOO

[goldenhourwriter]

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one • part two (you are here) •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: oh i love writing sassy spider-people

"And then the hot sandwhiches in the cafeteria suck ass, like, at least melt the cheese. I don't want some luke warm sandwhich that can't decide whether to be hot or cold!"

I hum absentmindely, playing with my bracelets as Ben Parker keeps mumbling and moping on and on about how his life is so terrible compared to all the other Spider-Men. Honestly, when I said he was allowed to get some things off his chest, I thought he meant telling me about the mission that went bad with him, not his whole life story from birth to this moment. He sighs dramtically, plopping his head down at the table we're sitting at, and I flinch at the sudden jolt of motion, my eyes lifting to look at him. He lets out a low, dramtic wail. "See? You don't care either!" He drawls. I roll my eyes.

"Nobody is looking at you, Ben, quit it." He rolls his head to the side with the most awful puppy-eyes I have ever seen. I give him a sarcastic, annoyed smile.

"Sorry, correction. Nobody is looking at you as if they hold any sympathy for you," I tell him as I stand up, having to take a moment to regain my balance from the whale that I am now. He sneers at me, his hair all dishelved from the way he's been tugging at it for the past hour. "I'll have you know that many people give their sympathy to me! There-there should be a book written about me! Or-or even better, a movie!" He calls out with frustration as I walk away from him. I scoff, not even bothering to justify his shouting at me with a glance over my shoulder. The doors to the cafeteria open and then close, and I heave out a sigh.

I think I'd hurl myself out the window if I hear his life story for the 30th time. It's a topic he loves discussing.

"Hey! Y/N!" I hear a familiar voice call out to me. I whip my head around. It could be any spider-person calling my name. From any floor, wall, ceiling, corner, web, anything. You never really know where to look when you work at a place like this.

The voice calls my name again, and this time it's more clearer, calling out behind me. I turn around and see Gwen walking towards me, a smile on her face. I let out a small breath of relief, grateful it's at least someone I enjoy being around, and not like one of the mind-numblingly boring Spder-Men who can't quit talking about how rough they have it. I hope you get who I'm referring to.

I walk a few steps, beginning to speak and raise my hand to wave in greeting, but she stops me with her hands. "No! No! Please, we'll meet you there."

Considerate. I love it. But I also hate it.

I put one hand on my belly, and one hand on my hip, jutting it out with. I give her a soft smile. "You're awre I can still walk, correct? I'm not toally useless," I sigh. She shrugs, not really responding. She holds her hand up to gesture to....something. But I don't really see what it's supposed to be.

"This is Miles," she smiles, with a hint of annoyance in her eye. I look to the side of her which she's gesturing to, but I raise my eyebrows.

"Gwen? Have we really drove you that crazy that you're making people up?" I ask, looking back at her. Her face drops in confusion, and she looks to her side. She groans, throwing her hands down into fists and spins around. I look past her, and I see another teen, presumably Miles, awe-struck and looking around everywhere. He seems a bit lost, but that doesn't hold a candle to the child-like wonder that is clear on his face.

"Miles! I told you not to fall behind!" She shouts at him. Immediatley, he snaps out of his daze, and he looks at her like a lost puppy. I've seen that before. I um, the pieces clicking in my mind, and I watch on with amusement.

This is the kid Gwen usually doesn't shut up about.

I snicker.

Cute, I think to myself as he smiles at her and mumbles an apology. They both clearly have feelings for one another. But, there is that air of nothing is established. A sort of tension. He looks at me finally, and his eyes immediatley drop to my stomach.

"You're pregnant?" He blurts out, and, despite his dark skin, I can still clearly see him blushing at his outburst. I furrow my brows at him, a bit worried that he might faint. Gwen closes her eyes, annoyed, and elbows him in the gut. I bite back a smile while straightening.

"Yes, I am pregnant. And don't even think about apologizing, all the new recruits have the same reaction." I smile as I think back to all of the young adults and teens I've met, each wondering in shock how I'm able to fight crime with two babies in me.

He goes to talk, and stick out his hand for me to shake, but Gwen hits him again.

"He's actually not a recruit, Miguel needed to see him. He's caused a bit of....well..." she trails off. I let out a small sound of understanding as I look at her while she's explaining. I look back at Miles.

"Well, I've already heard so much about you. I really do hope to see you joining our ranks someday," I say politely. I stick out my hand this time, and he takes it, a bit awe-struck. "Well, you know what they say," he says. He holds my hand as I look at him, expecting something. I quirk my eyebrow up. "What? What do they say?" A beat of silence.

"I have no idea."

I stare at him for a moment. Gwen didn't tell me this kid was so dorky. The again, all the Spider-People come from dorky backgrounds. I nod slowly, my hand retracting from his as I put it to my chest. "Great..." I trail off. I shake my head, and I look at Gwen again.

"I was actually just about to go see him, he hasn't had lunch, and I grabbed him an empanada, he usually goes nuts for them," I giggle, holding up the small container in my hand, which was long-forgotten while Ben shared his deepest, darkest corners of his soul. Again.

Miles lights up at the sight of the empanada.

"My grandma used to make those! Fueron los mejores (They were the best)," he beams, putting his hand on is hips, his chest expanding with pride. He bumps his shoulder intp Gwen's, who looks like she wants to crawl into a hole at this moment. I watch with endearment. It is endearing, how he gets all excited. I was the same way learning Spanish, wanting to expand my knowledge for Miguel. I wait for a moment for him to explain himself, my lips quirked up in a small smile.

"See? I know Spanglish," he chuckles, clearly getting prouder of himself. I smile widely.

"Que maravilla (wonderful)," I respond. His face drops, and he looks down, rocking on his feet, his voice growing quiet. I chuckle. "Oh...I see you...know..." "If you don't mind, Miles," Gwen says through gritted teeth. She looks back at me, her smile still strained. "We're going to keep moving along."

I shrug.

"I'll come with, give Miguel his empanada." I walk over to Miles, putting my arm around his shoulder. This throws him off, his eyes growing wide. He glances to the side, then back at me, not knowing what to do. I point to his chest with the empanada-hand. "También me encantaría escuchar más de su español (I'd also love to hear more of his Spanish)," I grin.

✮•

"Oi, there's the little child-bearer," Hobie announces as he gets up from his spot, walking over. He goes to put an arm around me, but I dodge, smacking it away. "Call me that again and I will give you something much, much more painful than giving birth," I growl. He doesn't even looked shocked, he loves riling people up. He pats my head, and walks a bit ahead of us. I scoff at his back, his guitar hanging so loosley off of it it makes me wonder how it's even managed to stay on for that long. I glance over my shoulder at Miles, who still walks a bit behind the rest of us. I slow down my pace, and when we're at the same speed, I whisper to him.

"You okay, kid?" His shoulders tense at that name, so I put my hands up in retreat. "Sorry, I wasn't the biggest fan of it either at your age," I chuckle. He glance at me, trying to find the amusement, but his laugh just comes out....dead. I sigh.

"Listen, Miles, I don't know what happened before you got here. I frankly, maybe I don't want to know. But just know it's nothing we can't fix, alright?" I mumble, bumping my shoulder with his for some light encouragement. He smiles just a tiny bit, his hand coming up to rub the shoulder I bumped bashfully. "Yeah...thanks."

I watch as he walks a bit ahead of me, and I watch as he looks at Gwen with...almost a longing gaze. A bit sad, too. I frown. I know how rough this kid has had it, Gwen's told me, and sometimes I would see him come up in the feed occasionally when I would cover for Miguel, giving him some much-needed rest time. I watched just as I did now, a frown etched on my face, wanting to reach out and tell him that this job does get better, but he wouldn't know I was watching. He still doesn't know I'm watching as we walk through the doors and into my husband's office. I fall into line with the teens, and look up at my husband and his beloved platform. Going down. Slowly. Inch by inch.

I groan inwardly.

This thing again.

I remember my first day here, I thought it was the most terrifying thing, seeing his broad back, all hunched over menacingly over the screens. Then, his mask came down, and I couldn't focus the entire time he was explaining everything to me, I was too focused on his face.

He claims he didn't know what I was doing, but I know that he was just as distracted as I was.

Miles glances at Gwen, and she shakes her head, indicating him not to talk. "I know, it's slow," she says. Miles still looks confused, and he looks over her shoulders and at me. I wave my hand in the air dismissevly. "It's his thing," I mumble under my breath, so Miguel can't hear us. God forbid we ruin his whole macho-'I'm so menacing,' act.

"Miguel O'Hara, meet, Miles Morales!" Gwen announces. No response.

"Ay, ¿Qué tal, tío? (Hey, what's up, dude?)" Miles smiles. "Yeah, I speak Spanish," he announces in front of me for the second time today.

I heave out a sigh, letting my head roll to the front. I look up again, and when I speak, my voice comes out in a shout. I have no idea what he can or can't hear from his mountain hideout.

"Amor, lo entendemos, puedes dominarnos. ¿Apuremos esto, por favor? (Love, we get it, you can overpower us. Let's hurry this up, please?)"

He grumbles something in Spanish, but I can't catch it. He spins around, shooting me a glare. "Glad to see you've met my wife," he says to Miles after giving me a hard look. Miles looks between me and my husband, his eyes scrunched together. He doesn't dare speak yet, however. Miguel smiles angrily, baring his fangs. "Something I had, like most things here now, no control over. Funny, considering I run this place!" His voice gets louder and a bit more sharp as he continues talking, and his hands come to his hips. I roll my eyes, making a sound of annoyance. I heave out a sigh. Miles steps forward, his hands moving while he speaks.

"Listen, man, I'm really excited to get going, I got some fresh new ideas on how to catch the Spot. You know, he just wants to be taken seriously-"

"Oh! Great. Uh-huh, uh-huh," my husband mumbles with a small, pestered smirk as Miles speaks. He lets out a very loud, very agressive roar as he hurls a piece of technology at Miles. Gwen and I both shout with shock, jumping out of the way, and Miles covers his head. Miguel doesn't even stop to consider what he did.

"You were worried about Spot, I'll worry about Spot!" he continues to yell at Miles. Miles is shaking, his eyes bulging with fear at him.

Gwen looks violated, and a bit worried for her friend. "Miguel! It's not his fault!" Miles agrees with her, nodding repeatedly.

"It was his fault, he blew another hole in the multiverse!"

"He didn't know any better!" Gwen shoots back. Miles doesn't quite know what to say, standing there awkardly, as if he and his friends' mom are fighting.

I step forward now, my head lowering as the platforms still moves slowly down.

"Miguel, think about throwing wires at someone! He was just tryng to do what Spider-Man does!" I try to rationalize. His head looks sharply to me, his eyes glowing red. It doesn't faze me, however. I've been on the receiving end of that look a few times, so I'm used to it. "Y/N, you're supposed to be on maternity leave!" He shouts. He holds up a hand, holding in a breath.

"Just...nevermind. You all knew what the risk here was! Gwen! You did! And you-!" Miguel looks to Hobie, pointing at him. Hobie is sliding down a metal arch, head first, on his back, just...enjoying life. As if this is really just his entertainment he threw together. Miguel sighs. "I was gonna try to ignore you," he pauses, before looking away again. "I can't, I just can't-"

"I ain't even here," Hobie mumbles in his thick accent. Miguel shakes his head, his thumb and index finger squeezing the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head as he walks a bit down the platform. I glance towards Gwen, who is already looking at me, silently begging me to say something, anything to try and calm my husband down. I sigh.

"Miguel, darling," I begin. Hobie groans.

"You know, just as a heads up, how married are you two gonna be today? Because I'm debating whether or not to sit here through all the pet names," he says, very annoyed, as he gets up from his seat, walking over to me and putting his arm on my head. He looks down at me, expecting an answer. I let a glare linger on him, and I look back at Miguel.

Miguel turns around again, his gaze boring into my eyes. "You fixed the whole catastrophe on Earth 199999, we can fix this. Don't go so hard on the kid!" I exclaim, gesturing towards Miles. He puts one hand on his hip, and another up to drag across his face, stretching it out.

"No, no, Y/N. He blew another hole in the multiverse! And that little...nerd and Doctor Strange fixed it. Not me! I'm just there to clean up stuff they don't know about so their lives can continue on, all happy and perfect!"

We all stay silent. Hobie lets out a low whistle, and Lyla appears on my shoulder. "I think he's projecting again," she whispers in my ear.

Miguel gestures for me to come over, once his platform has hit the ground, and I sigh, walking over.

"Can you just-just take my side on this? You've seen what these things can do," he murmurs lowly.

"Frankly, I think you should go lighter on him. He hasn't been here for more than 10 minutes, this is all very new. Quit yelling!"

"Uh-oh, mommy and daddy are fighting!" We hear a different, slightly older voice calling.

Hobie calls out. "Oh boy! Humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived!"

Miguel's whole body tenses, and his eyes shut with annoyance and anger. I turn to the door, and in walks Peter B. Parker. The man who practically trained Miles, and the man who thinks he's Miguel's best friend.

He walks in wearing a pink robe over his spider suit, and a baby carrier, but, no baby. He chuckles, a warm smile on his face. "Besides, Y/N's right, don't be so hard on the kid. He had a terrible teacher! He had no chance!"

"Peter!" Miles bounds over to him, giving him a big hug. Peter chuckles, patting his head. "Hey, kid! Don't mind my friend Miguel here, he looks scary but he's got no bite!"

Miguel growls, turning his back towards everyone, mumbling some curses, followed by Peter's name. Peter then makes eye contact with me. "Y/N! You're getting so big!" Miguel turns his head around sharply, his eyes glowing and his fangs baring with rage at his comment.

He winces immediatley. "Forget I said that."

Miles begins to ask him a string of questions, but his eyes travel down to the baby carrier. "Wait-what's is that? You have a baby!" He asks, pointing to it. Peter pats the carrier proudly.

"I have a baby!" He exclaims, mimicking Miles' excitement. At that perfect moment, Mayday crawls down from the ceiling, cooing. I get happy instantly, and she sees me, and squeals. She begins crawling on the walls, cooing and talking to herself in a string of babbles as I wave towards her, beckoning her over.

"Kid's an anarchist," Hobie mutters to himself. I frown at him, but I can't help but feel a bit of amusement at this.

"Don't forget to keep your daypass on, honey!" He calls out. He chuckles, and he begins to climb up the wall too, calling out to his child. Miguel shakes his head, letting his head rest in his hand, muttering "no puedo más," in a low, stressed voice. I put a hand on his back.

"Sólo aligerar (just lighten up), it's a baby, amor."

"¡No voy a entrar en esto ahora mismo! (I am not getting into this right now!)" He hisses, I hold my hands next to my head, signalling fake surrender, and turn back to father and daughter.

Peter laughs, reaching out for Mayday, but she swings away with her own webshooters. She swings next to me, landing on one of the consoles, and I pick her up, nuzzling my nose against hers.

"I knew I was gonna regret making her that webshooter, I shouldn't have done it, that's an actual mistake." Peter hops down, watching me as I play with Mayday. She reaches out to Miguel, and I put her on his shoulder. Besides, I'm not supposed to be carrying anything heavier than 20 pounds. Miguel just stares ahead. Peter perks up again, taking out his phone. "You guys wanna see pictures?"

He runs over to Miles and Gwen, putting his arms around their shoulders.

"Are-are you sure? She's right there..." Gwen trails off when Peter turns on his phone. "This one is the studious one, and-and, oh! The next one you're gonna crack up! Oh-oh, Miguel's gonna die" He laughs. I beam at him. He seems so proud and such a loving father. I put a hand over my pregnant belly.

Peter runs over to Miguel, showing him pictures. "You know I'm trying to hold a serious, adult conversation here," Miguel says quietly as he tries to keep staring ahead. Mayday crawls all over him, sometimes hitting him gently. Peter groans.

"You know, you're the only Spider-Man who isn't funny, we're supposed to be funny!"

"The fate of the multi-verse-"

"You always lose me with that!. You say "the fate of the multiverse," and my brain dies!" He exclaims. Mayday rolls on Miguel's shoulder, sqeualing when she falls. Miguel catches her, holding her like a....football. I roll my eyes. "Será mejor que no seas así cuando tenga a tus hijos (you better not be like this when I have your children)," I say to him. He shakes his head, his eyes wide with shock and offense. "Wha-I-no! I'm just not the biggest fan of the Parkers! Sabes que puedo ser muy amoroso cuando él no está aquí para molestarme, ¿verdad, mi amor? (you do know I can be very loving when he isn't here to annoy me, right my love?)" He says through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice to a level so that only I could hear it. I put my hands on my hips, giving him a 'then show it,' look. Peter puts his hand over his heart in mock offense.

"Wow, you truly hurt me. And Mayday. You want a baby's feelings being hurt on your conscience?" He stops, and sniffs the air, then looks at Mayday. "You smell that guys? Mayday took a crap. She's a Parker!" He calls out, taking her from Miguel and walking towards where he came in. "That's what hapens when a Parker eats an avocado..."

Miguel sighs, walking over to me and putting his forehead on the top of my head defeatedly, shutting his eyes. He's exhausted, I know that, and our height difference allows us some very interesting advantages. I reach around his neck and pat his head like a little kid as I watch Hobie pick Mayday up, saluting her.

Miguel straightens again, stepping away from me. He addresses Miles again, this timecalmer, but he's still annoyed. With everyone around him. Well, not me. I smirk. He could never be too annoyed with me.

"Miles," he begins, putting his hands on his hips. "You disrupted a canon event.

"Canon event?" Miles asks, but before Miguel can explain, Peter B. pops up again, a full spider web now formed as Mayday crawls and bounces on it.

"The kid wasn't thinking. That's not how he works!"

"That's insulting."

Miles takes a few steps to the right, looking at the ground thinking. "Wait," he looks bakc up at Miguel. Miguel raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "What are you upset about, I saved those people!"

Miguel fully steps off his platform. I give him a look, silently shushing him.

I take a step towards Miles, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking at him. "That, unfortunatley, is the problem here," I sigh, looking at him, implying an apology with my tone. Confusion is etched onto his face, and I can't blame him.

"Lyla," Miguel calls out. The hologram appears. "Do the thing."

"The thing?" I ask. Lyla smirks. "What thing?" She continues for me.

"What do you mean, what thing? The information explain-y thing!"

I scoff, taking my hand off of Miles' shoulder. "You're sounding like a mob boss, sweetie. We're not that kind of powerful," I tease, poking him in the side. Lyla laughs, but pulls up the vast, complicated web of canon events, similarities, and differences of all the Spider-People.

"Woah."

Miles steps forward, turning in a circle around himself, oogling at the intricate design.

"What's this?" He breathes out.

"This, is everything."