#this one genuinely made me feel like i died. i feel like my life is over. what is purpose if not to read doll! kaiser on repeat

[mortalityplays]

5 years ago I was dirt broke and closeted and destroying my body working full-time in hospitality. 10 years ago I was unemployed and catatonically depressed, living out of a storage closet at my mum's place because I'd expected to leave home after graduating & my insane abusive stepmother didn't want me at my dad's. my sibling was homeless rather than live with either parent. the only thing that eventually stopped me drinking was the critical dose of psych medication I was put on to keep me from walking into traffic.

guess what, there are still times and places and feelings from those years that I miss so bad it hurts, that I mourn like someone died, because I was dead inside and out and couldn't focus on the things that kept me going. my sweet cat who used to wedge himself between my knee and my busted laptop and purr while I was job hunting. he passed away last year. the late night walks I used to take with my sibling just for a reason to be out of the house, when we would talk about art and tag up the walls on the half-constructed tram line at 3am. they have long covid now and can't walk more than a few minutes without getting exhausted, and we live in different cities, and we'll never be that angry together again. sometimes we're both online at the same time in the small hours of the morning and get on a phonecall together, and I know this is another temporary version of our relationship that I'll miss when circumstances change.

I'm sorry you don't have good memories of the bad times in your life, and I am really, truly, genuinely happy that you're in a better place now, but I resent the assumption that this post was written by and for someone who has never suffered. 10 years ago, at my absolute lowest, nothing made me want to blow my brains out more than the condecending You 👏 Are 👏 Valid 👏 tumblr culture of the time that told me everything would be okay and it gets better and I don't know who needs to hear this but you're lovable just as you are. Obviously a lot of people did need to hear that. Fine! But what I needed to hear was what I'm writing to myself from 2025: that the tiny moments of peace you find in the warzone matter, and you don't have to wait for life to get better to appreciate them. pet your cat and memorise the smell of his fur. take a walk, tag a wall. write your name on memory lane.

please can I talk to the people like me without being talked over, without eliding my words into 'the nightmare is 100% intolerable but it eventually ends if you wait it out, just trust me on this one' or 'buck up idiot, do some breathing exercises and be thankful'. believe it or not I have also lived a life, and I know what I'm saying because I said it on purpose.

btw you will miss this in 5 or 10 years. memory will smooth these circumstances down like a river stone, and you will find yourself longing for a shade of light or a moment of this particular innocence. you don't know about what happens next, and one day that will be the most alluring thing of all. don't leave it all for nostalgia. have a nice night now, whatever night it happens to be.

[pendwelling]

hi I had a question about a section of chapter 221 in twsb

When discussing the island of pleasure (where the admiral Emma corleone is) (not too sure about the accuracy of the names from mtl),

they talk about how things like polyandry polygamy are allowed there, and how they allow morally wrong things under the principle of free love.

most importantly, they say that monogamy is deeply rooted among continental people.

however, the history of Riester as a continental nation has the taking of multiple life partners with the practice of the Emperor taking a religious and a political partner.

anyway, I am confused as to why characters we generally align with morally (duhem) refer to things like polygamy (which also implies (i think?) a disapproval within Riester of polyamory as a whole) as morally incorrect with the blatant queer undertones of the main characters, as well as among side characters.

is the author trying to highlight the religious nature of Riester and the specific and at times contradictory nature of their religion or possibly religion in general? Marriage within religion (especially Christianity) is seen primarily a unity of people in god’s eyes. We saw yeseo officiate(?) someone taking a religious partner (I believe, it was a while back) and it was similar in nature, with asking for approval from the god of this world itself to be religious partners, with it giving them the thumbs up or down with the ceremony.

the largest difference with these two is that wasnt romantic in nature. So are the rules that as long as the partners aren’t romantic in nature, then the political/religious partnership is acceptable, and romantic marriage is only acceptable among two people? If these are true, what about her majesty for example? I genuinely cannot tell you whether her, Aurelie, and alexandre were all romantically or platonically involved, which think was on purpose on the author’s part. I believe that only alexandre and frederique were married, but once alexandre died, Aurelie became Cedric’s godmother, but was she as involved as a parental unit in Cedric’s life before alexandre died? Were the three of them raising him together his whole life, or was it mainly frederique and Alexandre until he died and aurelie became more present in Cedric’s life

idk man, is author trying to point out the potential conflict of the mcs’ mix of a queer platonic and (i think?) romantic relationship, especially among the judgemental nobles?

you don’t have to answer all the questions posed here btw!!

I know you probably can’t answer every question here (especially the ones about the authors motivation) I am just curious as to what your thoughts are about this as you are an expert with twsb lore/character, if you don’t feel like answering at all that’s also totally fine lmao okay I’ll stop yapping now

"You don't have to answer all the questions posed here" WHO DO YOU THINK I AM do not underestimate the sheer depths of my insanity over this novel (/J /LHHHH)

(On a more serious note now—) haha I will for sure do my best!!!!! You actually raise some very very interesting questions and that made me quite excited to think about because there are actually quite a bit of different factors to take into account here 👀 (intersectionality, if you will). Thank you for sending your question in 🙇‍♀️ I'll do my best to answer!

I would also like to preface this by warning you (and anyone else who might be reading) that my answer will at times require that I use context from way further into the novel, thus might spoil certain revelations and big mysteries (particularly regarding the nature of QPB and TWSB's religion!!!) In other words,

BIG SPOILER WARNING!! (200+, JUST THE ENTIRE NOVEL AND EVEN ENDING)

I'm not sure if you would have rathered a more spoiler-free answer, so I apologize in advance 😭 Apologies as well for any typos that might possible arise. This took a while to write LMAO

(With that said, we should first start with the world's religion!!!)

The Church of God is a religion practiced mainly in the Divine Kingdom of Venetiaan and the Riester Empire (though more so in the former rather than the latter). A huge aspect of this religion is how it sort of influences the behaviours of its believers, particularly around the main belief that if one lives their life in an interesting/exciting enough way and endures hardships, they will one day obtain the gaze/adoration of God, which is something that the beings of this word (at least, the ones who believe or fear God) will yearn for until the day they die [295]. A sort of greeting that believers even use is actually: "May the Lord be pleased with your life ('주신께서 당신의 생애에 기뻐하시기를.')" Later on as you read, it becomes increasingly obvious that the entity that is "God" would refer to either the author themselves, or the readers (in some ways, it is both). But in the larger case, the one the people of QPB yearn for the attention of actually that of the readers, thus, YOUR gaze—or rather, the ones who would be the target audience for a Romance-Fantasy genre story like "I Quit my Job, then I Became the Princess Bride" (QPB), (and then later on, "When the Third Wheel Strikes Back").

This is where it gets kinda(?) meta. Knowing that QPB is an All-Ages, G-Rated, non-explicit novel targeted primarily toward teenage girls and young women (think, Jung Eunseo), it's only natural that a country outside of the premise of QPB (Corleone) would be free from any expectations of said God(s), and thus, will act outside of the "genre". Therefore, what's being highlighted in an understated way is that a country like the Empire of Riester where the main cast of QPB primarily act will be constricted by the conventions of an R-15/G-Rated RoFan genre—but a place like Corleone can break free from the genre and be a full-on R-19+ and more explicit than it wants.

People openly show intimacy out in the open, gamble and play games on the streets, are more promiscuous(or maybe sexually liberated is the more correct term?) and freely flirt, casually dress sensually, and commit "crimes in the name of free love"—and crimes here refer to how, with Corleone being so open with how they regard love, their going-about with relationships and marriage is different, and could lead to people, say, as they put in 220: "kidnapped, proposed to, or forced into a (arranged) marriage" etc. Though notably, these extreme worries were directed towards Yeseo, whom no one in the party at that time believed would be able to fend off the love-enthusiastic people of Corleone (they pretty much indirectly call Yeseo somewhat of a doormat/someone who innocence/inexperience could easily get him roped into trouble... 😭). And on a grander scale beyond just the main characters, this all somehow manages to be played in a somewhat comedic light haha—even though Corleone is outside of God's gaze, it still has to stick to the overall more lighthearted genre in some way, right? If not QPB's, then TWSB's wkkwkkw (this surrealism/idealism, in some way, also has some meta merit to it, too, actually.)

So while Corleone's atmosphere may seem like a harsh and rowdy place, the culture there is just... how to say. Very enthusiastic and extreme about the idea of "romance". In a sense, it's almost as if, though this is a "land abandoned by God", the importance they place on the theatrics of Romance is interesting when considering how the original setting was a Romance story itself (though a different genre of one). I think I should also highlight how this arc takes influences from the Commedia dell'arte, whose conventional plotlines included themes of sex, love, jealousy, etc (amongst others). As such, the theatrics of Corleone—inspired by elements of Italian culture (like how Riester and Venetiaan have French and Dutch influences respectively)—maybe aren't that surprising. Looking back on the Italian Renaissance, we can note the abundance of works with increasing interest in lewd subjects, attributed in some way to the emerging secularization at the time. Boccaccio’s "The Decameron" is notably a rather anti-clerical, at times erotic, and witty work about different stories involving Love, and in the context of its time (following the emergence of the Black Death in Florence) would therefore be a document of an emerging worldview: a desire to be liberated from the control of the Church and eager to explore the world on its own terms (though, it did get banned by the Church for a while for its explicit nature LMAO)(but recirculated after being revised since it was so popular). Other Italian/Tuscan poets at the time were also finding enjoyment in writing funny, satirical, or even downright insulting poems, many of which also took on sensual subject matter, some more explicit than others. ((Just noticed I'm going on a tangent wkfhjdkd sorry for bringing up what I learnt in my Italian Renaissance class out of the blue haha, but I find that it is interestingly relevant to the portrayal of the Principality of Corleone and its theatrics/sensuality.))

SO CORLEONE. Italian Renaissance, Commedia dell'arte. Romance, Sensuality. Comedy, Theatre. Satire, Anti-clericalism... anti-clericalism within this context can refer to Corleone's rejection from God's gaze. The "genre" and "rating" Corleone is presenting is not what She wishes to see, thus, is "morally incorrect" in QPB's original worldview because it doesnt align with the larger genre expectations.

Anyhow, I had to reread this arc and some others, and from what I can remember and what I've seen in this reread, I don't think Marquis François Duhem ever calls out polygamy as a whole, specifically, for being "morally incorrect"—I'm more so inclined to believe they are referring to the blatant absence of TPO (haha), and the over-the-top actions and behaviours that the freedom and enthusiasm for romance sometimes lead to, but even more specifically, the carefree and spontaneous treatment around love and marriage. I don't believe sensuality is necessarily and solely portrayed in a completely negative/puritanical/critical light in this series (there are different ways sexuality is portrayed throughout the series with different sets of characters), but in this case, I believe it might come off as a bit critical because François is directly affected by personal circumstance: after all, in this same arc, when Admiral Emma Corleone was propositioning for François (and later on Jesse) to become "partners", was not exactly doing so for pure-hearted and genuine romantic reasons, but with the underlying tone and intent of the Admiral bedding them for certain gains, and nothing more. François, of course, doesn't exactly appreciate this kind of attention from the Admiral and is openly guarded while around her, evidently not receptive to the idea of becoming her second spouse (after kicking out the rest—which speaks to how lightly she treated those relations in the first place), and thus kind of projects an additional layer of negativity to this. (And I'm assuming you might? have already read further ahead by now, but François does have some genuine reasons to feel put off by Emma, particularly because of their history, and Emma's implied interest in François stemming from the despair he wore back when the Duhems' parents passed away. I think it's understandable that one would feel apprehensive towards someone who is one-sidedly attracted to your misery haha...)

Of course, outside of these specific circumstances, that isn't to say that people don't frown upon having more than one legal spouse (in Venetiaan, this is especially the case, but Riester too), but there are just multiple different factors involved. I think it's very fair to compare it to real-life Christian morality/belief of one-spouse-only, but of course, those who aren't fervently religious and/or are more open-minded will regard polyamory/gamy in a more welcoming light. In particular, we've seen characters before who've expressed outright opposition to the idea of their spouse having another lover, but this is of course different from polygamy—in Prince Consort Werner, Queen Christanne, and Priest Michael's case, it was not a balanced relationship between three people, but an individual cheating on their legal spouse with someone whom she actually loves (their relationship is quite complicated, but we won't be getting into that now haha, but point is—)

The act of cheating and having more than one lovers is seen as bad, without a doubt, but curiously enough, the people of the Divine Kingdom of Venetiaan actually show quite a positive reaction towards the Queen's relationship with the commoner priest Michael. "The Romance of a Century", I believe it was called, and despite this Leary being a case of infidelity that resulted in a child, why isn't the Queen's infidelity seen as completely negative? Well, it can absolutely go back to religion. Despite Venetiaan being the most religious country in the story, it seems very receptive to their Queen's story, and yet simultaneously it is this very religious fervour that makes it so. After all, the child born from the Queen's extramarital relation was born with golden blond hair and purple eyes symbolic of the Lord's love and divinity, therefore the existence of this child itself can be taken as a blessing from God, Herself.

So, is cheating bad? Yes. We've seen this before with Duke Sarnez who was once caught by his own daughter and her friends while he was intimate with an Imperial attendant in an office. Yet, we also see it with Queen Christanne towards her own legal spouse, but the reaction is different, because of the "blessings from God".

So, is having multiple consenting lovers in an equal-levelled relationship, bad? No. The story does point out that the ruler of Corleone, Lorenzo Corleone, has multiple concubines, but he isn't portrayed in a negative light, either. In fact, he is actually portrayed as a typical person—"an old gentleman" [665] he is actually described as. Courteous and rather kind, both to Yeseo and other known characters such as Aurélie, and actually becomes a great supporting character during the later war. Him having multiple legal wives isn't symbolic of him being a morally bad character, nor do Riesterian character treat him poorly for his cultural differences or marital affairs, either, and it is just that—cultural differences.

So is polygamy/polyamory wrong? No, but, the cultural differences and reservations about marriage/love between different countries will illicit different reactions depending on whom you ask.

Anyway, I hope I'm getting across my thoughts properly haha bc I think I'm sounding like a convoluted mess, but I'd also like to note that there have also canonically been conversations about queer relationships in the story itself—particularly between Princess Cornelisse and her would-be religious partner Isle Roosegaarde, whom Cornelisse promised to make her consort when they're older [670]. In this conversation, Isle remarks that she can't possibly be made Cornelisse's consort because they are both girls, but Cornelisse casually retorts that not even the Royal Family has such conservative and outdated views (which I think is kind of hilarious in retrospect, because it implies in a way that Werner, despite being a horrible person, at the very least doesn't discriminate on people's sexuality to the point where his own daughter is educated with this same view)(of course, unless you're Jesse, which means that everything about you is worthy of Werner's ire LMAO). BUT ANYHOW, point is, historically it seems that more conservative/traditional values have existed at some point, but the current reality is notably much more open-minded. It is fair to say that Monogamy and Polygamy co-existing in Corleone but not in Riester or Venetiaan might have something to do with each country's respective histories, as well as how strongly each nation respectively believes in the main religion (and how it would influence their beliefs). And when you take into account the context of whom the God of this religion is, we can also assume that the typical young QPB RoFan reader would not want an explicit environment where the people (characters) you love would be existing in a setting reminiscent of gritty, sensual harem genre (there is even MORE meta to be said about this, and that involves the "Creator" (writer) or the world, and their intent toward the Gods (readers), but just know that an adult theme is definitely out of the question when it comes to what appropriate subject matter to the target audience, or more specifically, a certain target reader 👀)

Anyway, I bring up historical conservatism and the more-progressive/liberal nature of the TWSB universe because the idea of polyamory in Riester actually, in a funny way, is kind of? accepted...? it really, really just depends on context.

For example, there have been quite a few occasions, actually, of either friends of Cédric, Yeseo, and Christelle (CYC) or the general public themselves, alluding to or actively believing that the three of them are in a romantic relationship. One of these people was actually Marquis François Duhem himself, and he's funnily enough supposedly quite aware of the rumours floating around their relationship and at some point reaches a conclusion along the lines of "wow!!! so the rumours are true, you three really are like that—!" [468] (hahaha I do not think that he has any strong averse opinions on polyamory at all (Emma Corleone bugging him to be her next husband being a whole different case)). And earlier on in the story, we've even seen gossip tabloids who've placed immense interest on CYC's relationship, though this can of course either be interpreted in romantic or platonic lenses haha. Oh, and another notable person who even outright called CYC "lovers" was Jibril Diop, Cédric's 2nd cousin and a later addition to the main cast (more specifically, while talking with Yeseo, Jibril refers to Cédric and Christelle as Yeseo's lovers and asks him if he broke up with them since it's rare to find Yeseo all alone haha) [465]! But either way, it seems the opinion on having multiple lovers depends on a variety of different factors, from personal opinion, to religious beliefs, country, etc etc. Jibril Diop himself is actually someone whose character aligns more with Corleone's values and interests rather than Riester, since he's very free-spirited and loves dating and flirting and hates stuffy clothing, and is well-known in the Riesterian Beau Monde for his social affairs and activities in the different salons in the capital. He's even reportedly dated multiple people at once before, though it's unknown if these were open relationships or otherwise, so I can't really tell you any more than that haha. (If you haven't met him in the story yet, please anticipate his arrival. He's such a great character, I adore him greatly. He's sooooo fun as a new addition to the main cast hehe)

Anyhow, I'm sorry if I haven't given any clear-cut answers so far but rest assured!! It gets even more complicated!!!!!! 🙌🙌

SO!!! Knowing that different countries, cultures, and people regard Monogamy and Polygamy different, where does the Riesterian custom of having a Religious and Political Companion come into play? Well, in the first place, the tradition of choosing these two partners is solely a Riesterian custom, one that is also reserved for the Imperial Family (and collateral lines). A POLITICAL COMPANION to help the Imperial ruler politically, financially, or in any other diplomatic/transactional needs, (typically with a renowned noble family, or even a wealthy and affluent merchant family); and then a RELIGIOUS COMPANION to help guide the future ruler spiritually, an emotional and religious guide. Neither of the two roles are necessarily romantic, and the position as Political Companion does not require love—it is a political match first and foremost, though rulers such as Frédérique and her mother before her, Céline, were lucky in that they were able to marry people who they loved. The marriage is merely a formality so that the ruler could have an adequate spouse who fits all the requirements needed to support the ruler and fulfill the duties required of by a consort. Love is not a requirement, but it is still a legal marriage, thus a degree of respect for the arrangement is still expected.

So, what does that make a Religious Companion?

Religious Companionship via Covenant/Holy Contract Ceremony is special in that it requires the two individuals involved to swear their souls together and have them joined for eternity. This connection is beyond romantic or platonic love—in fact, a lot of the sentiments between the Master of the Covenant and the Patron Saint is very queerplatonic. It is metaphysical, it is something integral to the people involved, it is something only they alone can truly understand. It is hard not to regard the sharing of one's soul with another as not being romantic, as the very nature of the Holy Contract is intimate and requires, in the first place, a deep trust in the other person.

I believe the in-universe romance novel by Benjamin Giradin, "Reason, Emotion, and Divinity" (as the title is translated by the official webtoon team), displays a common trope regarding the complex arrangement of the main character (Heathcliff) who is caught up in a conflict between his Political (Jane) and Religious (Catherine) Companions [78]. It is noteworthy that, although Heathcliff is in a physical marriage to Jane, he is in a spiritual/mental marriage with Catherine and is the one whom his heart lays with. We can see, here, that this is an example of a relationship that is not equally "polygamous"—there is a lack of sincerity on one party's part towards the other, and the "spiritual marriage" is seen in a negative light as it is not fulfilling the role it should be. It's a very dramatic circumstance however and of course, is only one (fictional) example of the extent of the depths that a Religious Companionship might lead to, but we can take another example, too—this time, one from Riester's very history, told to us in Chapter 195:

Basically (recapping for anyone reading who might not know), roughly a thousand years prior to the current timeline, Empress Arianne Riester proposed that the Cardinal Phillipe (who had been her ally in unifying the fractured Empire following Venetiaan departure) become her second companion. Knowing that Arianne was already married at this point and was also not romantically in love with Philippe, the Cardinal rejected her, unwilling to take on a role similar to that of a concubine. But despite this rejection, Philippe did harbour unrequited love for Arianne, and gave in to her sincere proposal, though not without requirements. Philippe gave her tulips and said that even if they were not legally tied to each other, he was still and would still always be her ally, and the Empress wished for his formal companionship that strongly, then it would only be so if the Lord blessed their union and affirmed that it would be okay. The blessing later came in the form of the blossoming of never-before tulips. Since purple was a deeply religious symbol and tulips of that colour had never existed beforehand on the continent, the people took this as a religious sign, thus, a blessing from the Lord Herself. Thus, the two joined together and their union was the start of the tradition of the Religious Companionship in the Riester Empire for generations to come.

Interestingly, it is noted that every single Religious Companion of every Imperial Riesterian ruler to come after Arianne and Philippe, all died single [256]. In a sense, this is truly a marriage no different than a political one, and perhaps even deeper than that. While Philippe genuinely loved Arianne (one-sidedly), not all Religious Companionships are explicitly romantic, either. But again, it is undeniable that the Patron Saint in the Holy Contract is the one who holds the most power—if they do not sincerely wish to form a Covenant, it would not happen. So naturally, all Religious Companions feel strongly about their respective Master of the Covenant, and this intimacy could absolutely stem from love, or result in love.

SO, what can we make of Empress Frédérique's relationship with her Political Companion Alexandre, and her Religious Companion Aurélie?

Just like how the different examples of Political and Religious Companionship that we've seen above are different, Frédérique, Alexandre, and Aurélie (FAA) are also unique in their own way. Frédérique and Aurélie's relationship was the first to form, with Frédérique being the first to "fall for" Aurélie for the clarity of her ether and her sincerity in her tasks as an Imperial Priest. They were childhood friends following this and naturally grew very close, but the one who Frédérique later explicitly romantically falls for was Alexandre Blanquer (notably, she fell for him at first sight, similarly to how she did with Aurélie in the confessional hahaha. Frédérique is really the type of person who knows what she likes and strives to obtain them). FAA are truly special because all three of them managed to form very strong connections, not just with Frédérique, but between Aurélie and Alexandre, as well.

Frédérique and Aurélie note on numerous occasions how much Cédric's growing relationships remind them so much of their own childhoods and younger years back when Alexandre was alive, and it is very clear that they all loved each other. Perhaps this might not be the clear response you'd like from me? but I do not think it matters whether or not their relationship was romantic, sexual, or platonic.

Just the fact that they loved each other immensely, to the point of Aurélie even almost sacrificing her own life if it meant she could trade it for Alexandre's (which ultimately failed, though deteriorated her eye in the process, which is why she wears a monocle) [600]. Aurélie and Alexandre were not physically married, nor did they share souls and emotions like how Frédérique and Aurélie did, but despite this all, they managed to form deeply intertwined bonds despite at surface-level glance Frédérique being the "only link" between them. From the very start, they were all together a 3-person parental unit for Cédric the moment he was born, and Aurélie, though not his blood parent, was pretty much his second mom right from the get-go (in the official webtoon translation, he calls her "Aunt Aurélie") and naturally had been made the godmother since his parents are pretty much her partners, too. They were so close that Cédric's conception dream was actually dreamt by Aurélie—prior to his birth, she dreamt of being visited by a sun who came into her bedroom, before falling asleep together. It was reportedly a very cute dream, and I think it's very indicative of how close these three were for Aurélie to be the one to have the conception dream instead of Cédric's own parents. From the very very very start, they had always co-parented and cared for Cédric, and would have done anything for him. Their relationship is untraditional for the typical two-parent family unit, but they were true in this together right from the start, from every step of the way. During his childhood, Cédric was only awake for very short hours of the day, but whenever he was, Aurélie, without fail, always came and visited him in the mornings to read him stories, just because he liked it, and Frédérique and Alexandre would also join them for whatever small moment of family time they could get, when Cédric wasn't sleeping [600]. They raised, cared for, and loved this boy greatly, you cannot distinguish a difference in their love on the basis of whether they're Cédric's parents or not. They love him because he's their precious child, and that is that.

I like what you mentioned about how you were unable to figure out if their relationship was romantic or platonic, and how you said it was perhaps intentional on the author's part. Sookym never mentions queerplatonicism at all in their work, but the queercoding of this universe by mere virtue of the existence of all the implications brought forth by the lore and magic system itself allows for very queerplatonic/queercoded messages to saturate the work in its entirety—all due to the very nature of TWSB alone. I think QPR is the best way to describe Religious Companionship, and all the other very special and metaphysical bonds that appear between several characters throughout the entire novel. In FAA's case, it is clear that Frédérique loved Alexandre very dearly, and that their marriage was not even a necessarily political one (they practically eloped without the permission of Alexandre's family, and the Blanquers also disowned him when he went through with the marriage, so there was hardly any political gain there, other than Alexandre hinself being a 9th-Grade Mage), but it is EQUALLY CLEAR that Frédérique loves Aurélie, too. You will understand as you continue reading, but there are some incredibly intimate moments between these two that are both emotional AND physical.

The biggest example that comes immediately to mind is right after Frédérique and Aurélie had to be separated for a long time during the Riester-Venetiaan war, upon reuniting, the two of them immediately spent the night together, and the morning after has Frédérique hugging Aurélie around the waist while in bed [850], and the scene is played completely naturally, as if this is a routine that isn't unusual for them and that has probably happened before. Of course, this happened because being apart for too long is literally physically painful for Frédérique, so being physically close to Aurélie and receiving her ether in the most direct way possible would remedy that, but in the first place, if they were not incredibly close, the physical nature of their relationship would not be as crazily intimate—to the point of sharing a bed and being in semi-states of undress, and physically touchy with each other in a scene epitomizing domesticity. They love each other and that's that. They are literal soulmates and partners, and we don't need to know anymore. The love they have for each other is something only they themselves would understand, and the love they had for Alexandre is something that also belongs to them.

With all these different presentations of love, affection, and queerplatonicism between different characters, I do not think there is actually much conflict that CYC themselves would face in becoming partners. Everyone in Riester and in other nations as well understand that the bond that Empress Frédérique and Cardinal Aurélie is integral and important, and there is never any criticism there on Frédérique's intimacy with Aurélie, even when it is well known that Frédérique wildly loved Alexandre. The only issue, in fact, that arises about CYC's potential partnership, was Yeseo (as Jesse), being from Venetiaan, and then later on, was mostly internal doubt and dilemma from Yeseo himself. Outside forces never disapprove of the three of them having any sort of relationship, and whatever criticism they ever face is not because of any romantic conflict or say gender bias (like I said before, homophobia doesn't exist in the widespread view, and if it does, it happened in the past as is now seen as stupid WKJJJK), but because of the requirements that the position of Political Companion and Religious Companion require, respectively. But Christelle Rambouillet and Jung Yeseo are probably the only ones that can fit the requirements of these two symbolic and physical positions the best, with Christelle, even after discarding the ducal Sarnez name, obtaining military achievements and notable contributions to the Empire and becoming the "Star of the Navy", and her incredibly positive public image and reputation as a national hero within the Empire will undoubtedly dissuade any criticisms of her worthiness of being a Political Companion. Yeseo, meanwhile, (again, sorry if you didn't want all these spoilers in this reply 😭) is the renowned Palace Lord of Juliette, the Marquis of Sérénité, an Incarnation of God and an Angel of the Lord, and is His Holiness the Pope, himself.

Yeseo and Christelle become some of THE most accomplished people in the Empire, and anyone who tries to push their sons or daughters into the symbolic roles of Religious and Political Companions for the Crown Prince of the Great Riester Empire, will have to compete with these two reputational behemoths hahaha. At the start of the story, the conflict between CYC's potential Companionship has always been political, with the question of who could possibly fit these roles the best and aid Cédric, once he inherits the throne. Politics and schematics have always been the question here, and you could even say that emotions have very little to do with this decision—in fact, we've seen before that Cédric would have gone with anyone Frédérique and Aurélie would have chosen for him, since that's what it means to be a Crown Prince and fulfill his duties. Of course, that isn't to say that FredAu would want Cédric miserable, but it is clear that politics always take precedence, unless extraordinary circumstances arise enough to the point of being able to discard traditional political moves.

Initially, Christelle de Sarnez was the best candidate for Cédric Political Companion because not only was the Sarnez Family a (now formerly) reputable family and strong supporter of the Empress, but the marriage would also bring with it the Blessing of the Azure Ocean, which Cédric had needed at the time. Of course, this initial setting falls flat, but Ham Ga-in, as Christelle Rambouillet, later makes an enormous name for herself and becomes even more renown that she would have been as a "Duke's daughter".

As for Jesse Venetiaan, while his ether was the more noble and pure, and his divine power was incredibly notable, his biggest flaw in the eyes of Riester-Venetiaan politics was that Jesse was a foreigner from the opposing country. This flaw, however, is immediately rectified once Jung Yeseo separates from the identity of Jesse Venetiaan (and there's a LOT more context, but it'll take way too long to explain) and becomes the "Moon of the Empire", rather than that of the Divine Kingdom. Once it is made known that Yeseo's allegiances and loyalty are clearly with Riester, the political doubt, implications, and hesitation on him being Cédric's potential Religious Partner naturally fades, all most if not all Riesterians are extremely enthusiastic about their potential union (in fact, many characters are often surprised that they haven't already officialized it, or haven't done it earlier LMAO).

In short, it's always politics, politics, politics. Riesterian nobles ultimately don't place much importance about whether or not CYC are romantic, platonic, queerplatonic—what matters in their eyes is always POLITICS and if the candidates for the future Emperor's Companions will be fitting of the roles they will have to play. CYC's own feelings are their own and whether or not they, in this Companionship, become romantic or platonic, or remain heavily queerplatonically coded, is their own personal affairs, so long as each of them are able to accomplish their respective duties. Of course, there will always be an interest in the nature of their relationship because gossip and curiosity in any country is unavoidable, especially when it concerns such important people like CYC, but the nature of it, in a political lenses, has little to do with whether or not they are fitting as partners. I personally believe that in any way one can spin it, CYC will still be the perfect pairing regardless, and Cédric choosing candidates that do not understand the depths of his soul is unfathomable to me—Yeseo and Christelle are, quite literally, the only ones (in a meta sense, as well). And on the topic of politics, the question of heirs will also naturally follow, and I am very!!! glad to say that this question gets very masterfully solved by the author haha! I am very content with it and it's a bit humorously in retrospect how it happens, but ultimately was a very smart move that allows for this question to be resolved (without having any of the MCs contradict whatever we might think of them!) and allows for readers to naturally conclude whatever outcome they prefer best after the main story ends! (But if you or anyone reading this is interested in knowing more about the Heir Question, feel free to refer to this post where I go into depth about it!)

Anyway, this response has really gone on for a....... very very long time. It took me a while write this out and make sure I got all my facts right LMAO, but I hope I was able to answer, even if only in some way, your questions and help your curiosity!!! 🥹😭🙌🙌

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[the-casbah-way]

sometimes being so overly sensitive makes it hard to function like how do people do it. today we drove past three dead pheasants and i'm expected to be fine about the fact that they died alone and in pain and everyone keeps driving as if they never mattered. as if they didn't live and breathe and think. ok

[johndonneswife]

not a sad ‘woe is me’ post so don’t send me weird messages but: the thing abt cycling through every ED possible and being bulimic for like 10 yrs & making yourself vomit up to 10x times per day on ur worst days is that your teeth and gums will eventually give out on you (bc it doesn’t make a difference if you’ve been good & it doesn’t matter how well you’ve taken care of your teeth for the last x years) and u will be 30 years old crying to your very sweet and kind dentist when she tells you about the 1 million things that are wrong with ur teeth

[thedevotionaltour]

thinking about daredevil yellow again im not. going to make it Guys.

[ofheroicshield]

Believe it or not Connor did care for Morgan, he understood the concept of keeping the walls up. Of wanting to stay put in your shell. Of wanting to find peace for yourself. We’re teens, college students at Oxford, that was an achievement of its own. But Connor was being nosey with his ask, he hoped with the concerned tone, the way he eased into the ask would show Morgan he genuinely wanted to be let in. Wanted to get to know her. And obviously I was aware of who her mother was, her family dynamics, I had to read up on the stats, the different connections on my flight here. To sweep her off her feet. 

At the confused ask, I had used my eyes to dart down to the phone that was now upside down, with a low chuckle through my lips. I don’t think Morgan expected me to comment on the overbearing family which is why she felt frizzled now, caught off guard as they say. I couldn’t begin to understand the pressure she was under, feeling as if every move was under a microscope. Her dad died, she was overseas it made sense why her mother, and now the long list of people who now apparently seeked interest in hearing from her. I had pressed my hands into the knits of the blanket that stood to hold where the food was now being displayed upon. I wasn’t sitting to pry, I needed to ease into that trust. But based on the easy way the brunette spoke, I think she wanted to talk, wanted to express that frustration with the no space from her family. Nodding along, as I lifted the lid off the food letting the whiff of the italian food hit the air. As I took one garlic knot and broke one in half to take a bite into my mouth, dealious; the garlic really stuck with your tastebuds. 

“ Why not just talk to them once a week so they know you’re okay.” I asked aloud not actually wanting Morgan to feel as if i was prying into her life. Her family was hers, but the ask came, and again I wanted to be as aesthetic as I could, honest within the mission. A distraught glaze filled my features as I spoke. “ Yes and no. “ Pausing knowing I was being cryptic now. “ My dad could care less what I’m doing. But my mom, she tries or she tries to show she cares just not in the best way.” Missions being called off, not wanting me to breathe in the family business, I suppose that’s where our issues grew.. Me feeling like a burden, I didn’t want avengers, I just wanted to be included now that I was older.

@ofheroicshield

Sometimes it’s hard for parents to loosen the reigns. My parents used to be cool. Easy going and pretty carefree, and then my dad died, and now my mom clings. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice knowing parents care, but at a point, you’re right in saying they need to loosen the reigns, realize we’re old enough to take care of ourselves, and just let us live our lives as we please. {Of course in my case, it’s because I’m the daughter of Tony Stark, and although my dad was always my hero, and with that, the best guy I have ever known, I also knew he had made some enemies along the way, so my mom, Happy, Rhodey, and Peter are overly protective of me now. A thought that I had to keep to myself for now, given I didn’t tell Connor who I am. Against my better judgement, I did ask Connor about attending that movie in the park thing with me. Oddly, I felt like he was someone I could trust, so I took a shot. All the while figuring if he proved me wrong in that, I’d just use one of my deceased father’s weapons on him that I kept handy with me. I silently considered as my eyes shifted into a roll when I heard Connor’s playful response. Of course he’d take my invitation and turn it into an opportunity to taunt me} Don’t let it go to your head, Connor. You are tolerable, so therefore, I am willing to watch a movie with you, but if you get on my nerves, I won’t refrain from kicking your ass. {I teased in reply; all the while a smirk slowly curved the corners of my lips. Would I actually hurt Connor? Eh, I highly doubted that need or desire would come to play, but I suppose if he turned out to be psychotic, I would do what’s necessary} But yes, if you want to watch a movie together, I’m down for it. I’d even suggest us grabbing take-out to eat while we watch the movie, but something tells me you might get your boxers in a bunch with excitement, if I take it to that next step. {I gently teased in response; all the while lifting the coffee to my lips, so I can take another sip of it}

[shame-kink]

my consciousness tells me i should apologize towards that person i got pissy at due to dungeon meshi shipping stuff.

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[wtfcuk835]

i need to start by kissing your brain and then you all over your face thank you thank you thank you . this is the tastiest treat ever.

...remembers how you’d pick him up after letting him fall to the ground. you’d always come back for him, crouch down to the floor and make sure his porcelain limbs were still intact, kiss his cheek. then you’d apologize.

IM CRYING FOR BOTH HIM AND THE READER. THEYRE SO FUCKING CUTE. i love the idea of little reader with this doll almost the size of you and making sure its okay. dusting it off, and patting it down, and making sure it's just perfect. that its not broken, not yet.

...crystalline droplets, smudged against him. you’d cradle him tightly, and all would be well.

in my mind . kaiser is also a little weird about tears. i think most days he hates seeing you cry, it twists something in his (lack of a better word rn) heart. but he feels so fucking !! that he can be your safe place..

(you wrote your name on his neck with coloured marker; marked him as your own. yours, yours, all yours to bend and break. your favorite doll. he thought you’d be together forever.)

IM. FUCKFUCIDUCUJEOSNFKFN I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES . the SYMBOLISM OF POSSESSION… ouughhh clutching my head. its the same way his rose tattoo has a hold on him. a mark. a reminder of where he came from. who he belongs to..... but the way it's something positive in this. that he loves it. he needs it. something something possession as reassurance..... ari the way his craving for love bleeds through in this.... the way its still on the toxic side .... T-T

a smile. his blue eyes gleam, sharp like a pair of daggers, catching the light of the sun— his fingers flex at his sides. a silent tick, unconscious.

thE DESCRIPTION OF HIM….. SHJDFGIFKF. he would feel so predatory... so scathing. but at the same time ALL he wants is to be yours again

his very own heartbeat— it pulses when he looks you in the eye.

the way he only feels alive with you. the point of this body, this heart, this miracle is to gift it to you. its yours, so you should take it. he's yours, so you should have him.

he’s big, taller than you, finally. towering over you. (it feels good.) he’s alive, alive, alive —

would fold in a second. okay sorry i'll be normal... i lied all im thinking about is how gorgeous he is . i want him. i dont even know how to explain what those bracketed three words did to me.

OKAY. tags time.

even a broken doll remembers who once held it.

kaiser remembers the feel of your hands, your fingers, the weight and pressure of your playdates— remembers how you’d pick him up after letting him fall to the ground. you were a bratty child, but he didn’t mind. you’d always come back for him, crouch down to the floor and make sure his porcelain limbs were still intact, kiss his cheek. then you’d apologize.

none of the adults ever understood you.

he did, though. he knew you’d feel remorse after playing too rough, throwing a tantrum, knew you cried in secret when your mother locked you in your room — the weight of her palm still fresh on your cheek. crystalline droplets, smudged against him.

you’d cradle him tightly, and all would be well.

(you wrote your name on his neck with coloured marker; marked him as your own. yours, yours, all yours to bend and break. your favorite doll.

he thought you’d be together forever.)

”do you remember me?”

a smile. his blue eyes gleam, sharp like a pair of daggers, catching the light of the sun— his fingers flex at his sides. a silent tick, unconscious.

you’re looking at him as if he’s a stranger. blinking, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your palm, you must still be tired. you’re older now, clothes less frilly, cheeks less chubby— but it’s you, he knows it’s you. he’d know you blind, through a shattered mirror.

he found you.

fate granted him a miracle. skin and bones, his very own heartbeat— it pulses when he looks you in the eye. there’s confusion in your gaze, even though his hair is still the same, gold fading into blue seas, you used to tug at his locks when you were younger. it’s silkier now. he’s big, taller than you, finally. towering over you. (it feels good.) he’s alive, alive, alive —

and you don’t recognize him.

of course not. you’ve always been difficult.

(he tells himself he doesn’t mind.

he’ll make you remember who you left behind.)

[cherienymphe]

Suburbia X

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

~

“Thanks for coming.”

That was what you finally said to Peter after you both had been sitting on your couch for what felt like hours. In truth, it was only about ten minutes, but the silence was so tense and heavy—and you were so nervous and terrified of the young man in front of you—that the time didn’t pass normally in your mind.

Peter wasn’t wearing his glasses today, and without them he looked beyond only twenty-three. Or maybe that was all in your head. Maybe the reveal of his true character and nature made him seem so much more intimidating…and in turn, older. His dark curls framed his face as he gazed at you, patiently waiting for you to say what he was no doubt eagerly waiting to hear.

“Well…” he ran his eyes over your face. “Over the phone I asked if this was about our talk, and you said sort of, so naturally I became curious.”

You nodded at that, glancing away from him and taking in the silence of your house. Your girls were asleep, and you envied them in this moment. You envied their innocence and their complete ignorance of what was going on around them and their own part in it. You would never in a million years tell them what you were about to put yourself through just to protect them and their quality of life, but you hoped they’d grow up to understand the lengths you would go to for them.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I wanted to tell you face to face that you were right,” you finally said, looking at him.

Peter’s face was hard to read, but there was a noticeable glint in his dark eyes that made your heart stutter. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he straightened, and it made him appear taller. You felt so small and insignificant beneath his gaze, and you desperately tried to remember what you were doing and why you were doing it. Peter had seamlessly shifted the power dynamic—and in the worst way possible—and you desperately needed to have the upperhand again.

“When I chose to be a single mom…I did it with no regrets and because it was genuinely what I wanted.”

Peter leaned in a bit, and you spoke up.

“...and so…determined to prove something, I think that I never even really considered the possibility of more. Of more helping hands, of more comforting figures in their lives, of more…love that could be given to my girls,” you continued, looking between his eyes. “...and me.”

Peter wasn’t saying anything, and you felt a stab of panic, wondering if he saw through you.

“You were right. You are so good to them…and me, and it’s terrifying not only because it’s new but also because it’s you.”

You abruptly stood, turning away from him.

“You’re so much younger and I hired you and Peter, you have to understand,” your voice cracked as you stared at the wall. “You have to understand how I’m feeling because this makes me look and feel like some predator, like-.”

You cut yourself off when familiar hands took your arms, forcing you to face him, and you watched the way Peter’s expression softened with one look at your face.

“I know that I said some unkind things, but this situation is very tricky and scary and has the potential to really change my life in a way that can’t be undone or at the very least not for years and years to come-.”

“I know that,” he whispered, finally speaking again. “Trust me, I understand-.”

“You say that, but if this doesn’t work out, you're not the one who’s going to have to deal with the fallout. Do you truly understand how people will see me? It doesn’t matter that this was reciprocated. Cougar will be one of the nicer words I’ll be referred to as…”

Your words died in your throat as Peter gently shushed you, one hand coming up to graze your now tearful cheek. The way he looked at you told you that he believed everything you were saying, but you couldn’t be sure. He leaned in a tad, and on instinct, you turned your face away. Your gaze lowered to focus on the floor, and you felt Peter’s breath on your face as he sighed.

“No. You’re not the kind of woman to just jump into something like this, and I should have known that,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “I should’ve known that you would panic and freak out and follow your initial instinct of rejecting this in every way you can.”

The younger man rubbed your arms, hands gently sliding up and down over the fabric of your sleeves, and you shuddered.

“You’re smart about things, and it’s why I love you,” he murmured, making your stomach churn. “I should have thought about that, gone about this differently.”

You finally met his gaze, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the way he looked at you. It reminded you of that night—or what you could remember from it, anyway—and the morning after and the day at the restaurant. One of his hands tightened on your arm, and you swallowed at the position you put yourself in.

“...but you don’t understand what you do to me,” Peter chuckled.

It was light, and his teeth winked at you, and his eyes gleamed in a way that terrified you. It didn’t matter what you believed because Peter believed he was in love with you and was the one for you and was the best father for your girls. His mind was made up, and you felt that you should’ve accepted as such when he went through such great lengths to back you into a corner.

He handled this whole ordeal like a man with nothing to lose, and you supposed that in a way, that was true. In this scenario, you were the one with way more to lose. If this ever got out, you would be the villain in this story, and it was something that Peter had so eloquently thrown in your face.

“I don’t think I can say I regret confronting you like I did at the restaurant,” he confessed, his thumb brushing along your lip. “...but believe it or not, I didn’t take pleasure in putting things into perspective for you like that.”

So that was what he was calling it.

“I don’t take pleasure in hurting you in any way, even if it is only making you uncomfortable for a short while, but I needed to make you understand. Understand what you mean to me and what I would do to have you.”

When his lips gently brushed along yours, you let him kiss you.

“You don’t even know the things I would do for you—the things I have done for you,” he whispered into the kiss, and you couldn’t stop your form from trembling.

Peter noticed, and he made a humming noise.

“There are a lot of things for you to fear in this world, but now that we see eye to eye, I’ll never be one of them.”

You felt tears kiss your eyes as he tried to kiss you again, but spoke, effectively halting his movements.

“It’s not you I’m afraid of, Peter.”

A lie.

He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and he chuckled again. The dark-haired man pulled back some to gaze at you like you were so silly, and you hated how boyish that smile made him.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Don’t you get that? Hmm?”

He held your gaze with his own dark one.

“Whatever comes of this, you’ll never have to doubt my loyalty. I’m going to be by your side when things inevitably progress into something more public, and I will make sure that whatever those…” he took a deep breath, lip curling over his teeth. “...women put you through, it will be worth it.”

His brows drew together as he fought to make you believe his words.

“I swear to you, now that it won’t hold a candle to coming home to me everyday. I’m going to make you so happy that whatever they have to say won’t mean a thing to you.”

Peter kissed you again then, deeply inhaling.

“I’m not going anywhere…”

You knew that those words—if nothing else—were true, and that was what you hated.

You stood with your arms around yourself as you watched Peter bring a suitcase into the house. You had prepared yourself for this, anticipating by all of his actions so far that Peter was not one to take things slow. Or at least, he didn’t want to take things slowly with you. Besides, if you were going to get your hands on every copy of that tape he possibly had, then you needed to be up under each other’s noses.

You needed him to be comfortable enough to bring his things—his laptop—into your house and not spare your proximity a second thought. When he caught your eye, you gave him a gentle smile, and while he was slow to return it, he eventually did. You took your time in nearing him.

“I know how nervous this makes you,” he told you, and he reached for your face. “It’s okay. We’ll be discreet for a while, and I’ll gradually make myself at home, and when the time is right…”

He trailed off, a secretive smile dancing on his lips at the thought of going public with you one day.

“Thank you,” you finally replied. “You don’t even understand how much that puts me at ease, Peter. Especially since I know how difficult this is for you.”

The look he gave you encouraged you to elaborate, and so you did.

“While I might not completely understand it just yet, you do love me, and it can’t be easy hiding a relationship with someone you care about so much.”

You noticed the way his face fell a bit at that, and you reached out to rest your hand on his arm.

“I don’t doubt that you want to navigate like any other couple in the world, but you’re being considerate of me and how this will affect me, and it means a lot.”

You stepped closer, and you watched Peter’s eyes drink in the action.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered to him.

At that, he didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you played with the fabric of his sweater.

“...and I’m sorry that I let my fear and panic prevent me from seeing that before.”

You watched him take a deep breath, dark eyes still trained on you.

“It’s okay,” he quietly told you. “I forgive you for that, you don’t have to…”

He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for it.”

You took his hand, and Peter was eager in threading his fingers through yours. He pulled you along up the stairs to unpack, and you told yourself that smiling in his face and kissing him with your eyes closed and telling him what he wanted to hear was the easy part. As you walked down the hall—Peter taking the lead—you reminded yourself that the hard part was only just beginning. 

The real challenge would come in cohabitating with him like he was someone you cared about. The truly hard part of all this would come when he wanted to shower together and wrap his arms around you in bed and pull you against him like you were any average couple in love. 

When he wanted to have sex with you.

This would go beyond just acting, but you would have to fully embody someone else—someone who cared about this man almost as much as he cared about you but was simply hesitant and nervous. You would have to take on an entirely new persona, and to make it all the more challenging, you had to do it in enough time to get what you needed before he wanted this relationship to go public.

…because you didn’t care what Peter said.

He wasn’t going to be content with keeping this between you forever.

You hadn’t missed the way he’d said Bucky’s name at that restaurant. There were more sides to Peter you hadn’t been privy to yet, and you hoped to God that you never would be, but you knew without a doubt that there was a part of Peter that wanted to show this entire town you belonged to him. Peter had never struck you as that kind of man, but then again, there were a lot of things about him that you absolutely would have never guessed.

As you helped him unpack what he brought over, you tried to keep your face even at the sight of clothes and toiletries and nothing else.

“I’ll have to tell Nat that I rehired you, of course,” you said to him, hesitantly glancing his way. “It seems silly to have you hide away any time she comes over.”

Peter found that funny for some reason, and he nodded.

“Of course. What are you going to tell her when she asks why?”

You stewed on that for a moment.

“I haven’t decided on that yet. Maybe I’ll tell her that I just really need you around, right now,” you eventually came up with, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Well, it’s not a lie,” he said, voicing your own thought. “You do need me.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, pausing in his unpacking to give you his attention. Peter’s intentions were pretty clear, and you didn’t doubt that said intentions had been on his mind from the moment you’d uttered the words ‘you were right’ earlier. While you knew that it would eventually come to that—probably as soon as hours from now—you weren’t mentally prepared. You couldn’t make your body do that, right now, and so you hurried to ruin his mood.

“I’ll have to tell Bucky the same…”

Your words had the desired effect, and you relaxed a little when Peter froze. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck to rest his chin on it, and while you had expected several things, you hadn’t expected the next words that came from his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Mr. Barnes to come by here, anymore.”

You couldn’t stop your frown at that, and you pulled away just a little to turn and face him. Peter’s visage was entirely serious, and your frown deepened as you realized this. His expression didn't relent at all the longer you stared at him, and you were the one to break the tense silence.

“Peter…”

“I’m serious,” he confirmed, moving to finish unpacking the rest of his clothes. “Now that our relationship has evolved, I don’t want him coming by here anymore.”

“...but he’s my friend.”

The younger man gave a scoffing bark of a laugh at that, and you watched him run his hand through his thick curls.

“Friend,” he repeated. “Yeah, sure.”

The humor disappeared from his features by the time he looked at you again.

“He’s your friend because you didn’t want more with him. If you had, he wouldn’t be your friend right now, and we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

You blinked at that.

“The kind that would involve me telling you to break up with him because I actually dislike sharing.”

His tone was serious, and you swallowed as he stared you down. Your lips parted, and you snapped them shut, thinking over your next words carefully.

“If I suddenly stop being friends with him, it’ll be very suspicious, Peter.”

He stared at you for what felt like too long, expression unmoving before his lips suddenly pulled into a small smile.

“While true, I imagine that him walking in on you coming around me would be even more suspicious.”

His words had you blinking furiously, but before you could respond to such a thinly veiled threat, you heard a familiar cry. The curly-haired young man didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing in favor of checking on whichever twin had woken up from her nap first.

You were still tense from his parting words, and telling yourself that you needed to pick your battles wisely, you softly sighed.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright ask Peter to delete that video. It was so brazenly stupid that not only would Peter accuse you of not trusting him, but he might even suspect this whole thing was an act. He’d be right, of course, and it was why you had to convincingly get him settled into a comfortable lull. 

…and you had to do that by committing to doing things you weren’t comfortable doing.

Your fingers clawed at your sheets as Peter’s tongue swiped between your folds and pressed itself into your core. Your girls were down for the night, and you knew that as soon as they were, and dinner was done and put away, Peter would waste no time in reaching out for what he felt now belonged to him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened,” he’d murmured to you, humming at the taste of wine on your lips.

You’d concluded that you needed something in your system if you were to commit to this.

“The sounds you made, the way you tasted on my lips,” he’d breathed into your mouth. “The way you felt wrapped around me.”

He’d taken a reprieve on the stairs, just pinning you against the wall and kissing you. His hands hadn’t stayed in one place for long, touching every inch of you that he could, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued in pulling you towards your bedroom.

“Fuck,” he’d swore into the kiss the moment you were through the threshold. “I can’t wait to be inside of you again.”

The moments that followed bled together into one long endless pleasurable moment. You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that Peter was so skilled and so determined to make you come undone. You found it shockingly easy to surrender to his ministrations, unable to swallow down your moans and whimpers as he ate you out.

His tongue—so warm and firm—greedily lapped at you, and his fingers pressed into your thighs so hard that you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises in the morning. Your chest arched as you squirmed on the bed, and unable to help yourself, one of your hands found it’s way to his curls. Peter hummed against your cunt, and you knew that he liked that.

You confirmed as much when he reached up to find your other hand before forcing it to find a home in his hair right next to your other one. You were completely naked—Peter having wasted no time in getting your clothes off of you—but your nudity did nothing to cool you down. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you absentmindedly recalled that Peter was only partially undressed.

It seemed that he only just remembered that too, and when he pulled his mouth away from you, you were ashamed of the stab of disappointment that tore through you. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, and you blinked as you watched him sit up before getting undressed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he did, pulling his lip between his teeth as he rejoined you on the bed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The wine in your system definitely helped you to relax, but if you were honest, it did more than that. Playing this part came to you easier than you anticipated, and that worried you a little. Maybe even scared you a little.

The younger man was gentle in running his hand up your leg, fingers dancing along your skin as he did so. His dark eyes appeared even darker if that were at all possible, and in this moment, it was evident that Peter cared about nothing more than he did the thought of being inside of you again.

Glancing down, you caught sight of his cock—erect and wet at the very tip and just waiting to fill you up.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Peter murmured, reaching for your face.

When he kissed you, you didn’t swallow down your hum in time, and your throat vibrated as it climbed out of your mouth and into the kiss. Peter’s entire body covered yours as he made himself comfortable on top of you, and—playing your part—you rested your hands on his back. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you.

Peter didn’t waste any more time.

Forcing your knees to hook over his arms, Peter lifted his hips and dipped his cock into you with one smooth thrust. A choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time. Your hands slid over him, unsure of what to grasp onto, and you couldn’t stop the small whimpers that started to fall from your lips.

Peter was fucking you with the assured confidence that he finally had you.

The strained grunts that left his mouth were in time with every push of his cock, and you were almost ashamed of how wet you were. Although, you supposed that it would only prove to help you in convincing Peter this was genuine. You were literally dripping around him, and you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were playing a part. That you were doing what you needed to do to earn his trust and get him to let his guard down.

Although that was easier said than done when his lips kept seeking yours out. Every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasped again when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there. His toned chest repeatedly brushed against yours with every movement, and the gentle stimulation against your hardened buds made you shudder beneath him.

Every time he dipped his cock into you, the sound reached your ears…and his too.

“You’re dripping for me,” he whispered into the kiss. “I love how wet you are.”

You wanted to come up with something to say to reel him in more, but you were genuinely at a loss for words. It was hard to focus on anything besides the feel of him stretching you out.

“I’m so glad you came around, So glad,” he murmured, kissing you over and over and over again. “I really…I really didn’t want to do things the hard way.”

Your bed shook beneath you as Peter pounded into you, his curls tickling your skin.

“You may not believe that, but it’s true.”

He finally paused, holding himself inside of you as he pulled his head back some. He stared into your eyes—both of your chests heaving—and he looked between them as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I meant it when I said I don't take pleasure in hurting you. That’s not something that makes me happy,” he said through uneven breaths.

He slowly pulled his hips back before snapping them against you again, and you gasped. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, carefully watching your face.

“...but I’ll do what I have to. You understand?”

He didn’t give you time to respond.

“I’m smart, and you know it, and I know you know it.”

Your nails dragged along his skin as he thrust into you slowly, taking his time in pushing the length of him into you.

“So if all of this is just you playing at something, then you need to be prepared to play at it for the rest of your life,” he whispered to you, staring into your eyes. “...because you don’t know the things I’ve done to protect you.”

Your wide eyes looked between his at that.

“...and I’ll do worse to keep you.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[diremoone]

it’s just a scratch! (it isn’t) | sylus.

a/n:: apparently receiving a head injury leaves plot bunnies behind too lol [ sylus fluff ;; tis mildly selfship coded ;; i whipped this drabble up in about an hour haha ]

Sylus watches you pause as you lift the mug to the cabinet. Your brows furrow and proceed to slowly spin the mug around curiously.

“Sylus?” You halfway turn to him to look from your peripheral.

He glances up and replies, “Yes?”

“What am I doing?”

“Unloading your dishwasher, I believe.”

A pause, then a small, “Oh,” escapes your lips. Then you put the mug up and close the dishwasher. He’d finish it for you later.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks, eyes glancing up at you from the book in his hands.

“About the same… Uhm…” You space out, staring at the TV for a good ten seconds before coming back to reality. “Maybe more dumb than usual.”

Sylus chuckles. “You’re not dumb. You just sustained a head injury.”

“Which has made me feel dumber,” you point out.

“Which is why I’m here,” he adds.

“To tell me I’m dumb?”

He scoffs in disbelief and closes his book as he remarks, “To make sure you don’t smack your head into anything else while you’re recovering and on leave, sweetheart.”

You feel the fluster creep to your shoulders and your cheeks at the nickname, ducking your head down bashfully.

Sweetie, when he’s teasing. Sweetheart, when he’s being soft and caring. You often hear more of the latter nowadays.

“It’s just for a few days. My symptoms should clear up come the day I go back for a checkup,” you grumble. “And it wasn’t even that bad. My elbow took the brunt of it.”

“I’m aware of all that. And until then, I’ll be sticking around to make sure you’re okay, kitten.”

But the cute moment ends when you cuss profusely, hands flying to your head in the spot where you’d gotten hit. Sharp pains crawl down from the spot, nearly debilitating and making you hunch over.

You faintly register something hitting the couch, followed by large hands guiding you by your shoulder and waist to sit down.

Sylus doesn’t like the way your body rocks in his hold, head bobbing up and down while your eyes are screwed shut from the pain, hissing when it flares. He takes his hand and gently cradles the back of your head, pulling you to his shoulder to find rest. If you had been standing, he’s sure he would’ve had to catch you before you hit the ground.

Thirty seconds in total pass before the pain in your head finally dies down. You still feel a tingle, but don’t mention it.

You inhale, then speak softly, “It passed.”

It takes a few seconds for Sylus to reply. “That was the worst one yet.”

“That you’ve seen,” you try and joke. But the grumble of dissatisfaction tells you he’s anything but amused. In fact, you might’ve just put him in a worse mood.

“I guess that means I’ll be staying over for quite some time, even after your next doctor’s visit.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and stare pointedly. “Sylus, no.”

“What? You don’t like my company?”

“It’s just not necessary for you to stay and watch me. I’m a big girl,” you argue.

“A big girl with a head injury,” he “corrects” you with a grin. “And don’t worry about your little friends. I’ll disappear for awhile when they decide to come over.”

You sigh in defeat. “You’re making my head hurt.”

“Then stop arguing, kitten.” And then Sylus’s voice drops an octave, expression changing from cheeky to concerned. “Let me take care of you. Your head meeting that table after that giant Wanderer tossed you wasn’t pretty to watch, you know.”

This time, you finally hear him, and he sees it.

You know where this is coming from. You know this comes from whatever past you two had together that you can’t remember (but apparently Sylus does) for the life of you. His concern for you is always genuine, you know this. Underneath every layer of teasing and cheekiness, you know Sylus means it when he says he wants to take care of you. And you can only imagine what you must’ve looked like getting tossed like a ragdoll by that Wanderer you’d fought.

You sure as hell know what your head feels like.

“Alright, you win.” You shift yourself onto his lap, getting cozy and laying your head back on his shoulder and closing your eyes. “Just make sure to jet when my friends come over. The last thing I need is a tremendous headache about how the leader of Onychinus is in my living room tending to me.”

He chuckles, then presses a long, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Deal.”

[waokevale]

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.