#You can only make sense of what exactly happened in some parts when you view it frame by frame

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[sealedsanctuary]

霹靂封靈島 Pili: Sealed Spirits Island · 2002 - Heng Qian Qiu vs Nv Ya, the Demon Buddha's female body.

[maelancoli]

Writing Explicit Intimacy More Deeply

okay after the kissing post i've wanted to try to write something about actual sexual scenes. it's taken me a while to figure out what approach to take for such a broad subject because this is such a subjective form of writing and everyone has very strong opinions and varying proclivities. the truth is you are not going to please everyone and there will be a chunk of people who will always dislike your choice of words. and so even in writing a post to help others, there's going to be people who strongly disagree or find what i prefer to be cringe or unerotic.

the portrayal of sexual intimacy and the approaches taken are as varied as the sexual preferences, appetites, turn ons and turn offs of every day real people. this can either make you freeze up when writing, or free you to realize there is no 100% right way to approach erotic art and anyone who tells you otherwise is a smartass or trying to sell you something. so with no further ado, this post will be exactly what it sounds like so proceed at your own risk.

i'm going to focus less on style itself and more on approach. the first thing is that you don't need to divorce 'fluffy' non explicit intimacy from sexual writing. the exact same style and techniques you use for non sexual intimacy can often be applied to the sexual scenes too. kissing scenes, the chaste restrained touches filled with deeper desire, the linger looks from across the room, the build up to the first moments of vulnerability, the first few kisses, the first 'almosts' are connected to the sexual scenes themselves. it is all the same emotions and tensions. they're only heightened. and for sex scenes that are produced from these build ups are a simple escalation. you only need to expound upon what you've already built. don't view it as starting new and having to figure out how to write a different topic/moment. it's a continuation and all you need to do is use the tools you've already given yourself.

my second tip is to spend time shaping your character's tastes, kinks, turn ons and icks, their secret fantasies, their red lines they won't cross, their pleasure zones, the places they find attractive on others that they like to focus on and stimulate. if you want your sex scenes to feel real and not like it's just a emulation of generic smut or porn, you have to do what you do for literally anything else to make it not feel bland or contrived: character development.

where does your muse like to be kissed? what parts of their body make them feel stimulated, what parts are the most sensitive? not everything is about genitals. a lot of people like their foreplay to start with groping in varying erogenous zones. some are unconventional, some like their ears licked, they want their wrists kissed and sucked, they just want their partner to hold them close etc. the more you practice and explore what feels right for your character, the easier building on that foundation of tension will become.

if you feel awkward you can write the characters feeling awkward too because it often is. sex isn't always erotic or super steamy. it can be funny and awkward or just a natural physical thing happening between two people. focus less on if it sounds good in the first draft and focus more on if it makes sense for the characters, focus on how this moment makes them feel, where they feel their arousal and excitement in their body, how they respond to each other, what this means to them or what it doesn't mean etc. after you have gotten that down, then you edit it. add the prose, use the language that either make sit feel less crude to you or more erotic or more poetic etc.

lets take eliza and grabriella from last time so we can expound upon their previous interaction

it wasn't like she had never seen gabriella before. the first time they had seen each other outside of a dorm room or stuffy lecture hall was at dance club which was too crowded and too loud and was less 'dance' and more 'stand around and bob heads and take up too much space on the dance floor.' but she did remember what gabriella wore. she remembered her cropped blouse with ruffled sleeves and how she hadn't worn a bra beneath it. she remembered that she did dance. she remembered how effortless it looked. and the shorts which hugged her thighs and formed that little indentation that first made her wish she could tuck her fingers beneath the hemline and tug her close. she had denied those instincts then, those unrealized desires. but she wasn't denying it now. because now gabriella was on her mattress, sitting on her knees in only her bra and lacy underwear which evoked that same feeling. eliza imagined hooking a finger just at the waistline and tugging. butterflies swirled in her stomach and static radiated through her at the mere thought because this time she could do it. "you okay?" gabriella murmured. she was smiling. that smile made her feel all the warmth of the brightest stars which whispered she was meant to be here, with her. "yeah," eliza breathed out. she leaned closer and feathered her lips along the other woman's. even with a trembling hand she reached forth and brushed her fingertips at the edges of gabriella's panties. "i'm okay," she promised. she allowed herself to smile and in doing so realized she was already grinning. "more than okay." "good," gabriella kissed her back, one of her hands sliding into eliza's hair as the other tenderly began to caress her bare thigh. "have you ever...?"

"no," she admitted. heat gathered in her cheeks which were turning pinker by the second. her ears must have looked sunburnt and she had to resist the urge to cover her face. "not really...not like this." a pause. she bit at the inside of her lower lip and glanced up at gabriella's soft features. when their eyes met, she simultaneously felt all her muscles relax again. but those damn butterflies kept fluttering within her. "have you?" "once," gabriella nodded. then she smiled, a shyness in her expression which only made her features glow all the more. she reached down and gently grasped eliza's hand. she rubbed her thumb over her knuckles. "just follow my lead," she murmured. "we'll make up our own steps." she slowly guided eliza's fingers beneath the lacy waistband. and then further. until she felt the damp warmth between her thighs. eliza's breath hitched and she almost forgot how to control her lungs. "i think i can figure it out," she replied with a small smirk before she tenderly rubbed the pad of her thumb against gabriella's mound. when the other woman breathed in deep, almost moaning, she knew this was a dance she would happily memorize.

i put the rest below the cut to help the post from being too lengthy. but essentially here we see a continuation of eliza feeling uncertain in new territory but finding comfort and reassurance in gabriella. she might be nervous, but she has no doubts about this woman she's attracted to. rather than just describing one action after the other or focusing only on the biological responses happening, we're delving into the continuation of anticipation, we're showing the gentle push and pull between them. eliza has the desire to take control and give pleasure to gabriella. but she finds herself needing gabriella's guidance and that's okay.

because they met dancing, we can use dancing symbolism. deciding the contrasting language and euphemisms you want to use for your ship will help you broaden how you write the intimacy beyond the physical.

eliza wants to be more dominant we see hints of it here, but realistically someone who is new to a situation will not be able to go straight into that. but, say that there is continued scenes of intimacy between them, after the first time, we would start to let her slowly explore that. perhaps gabriella would coax it out of her, maybe eliza will surprise her. she'll tug her close by her belt loops, she let herself bite at her rather than just gentle kisses. it will happen slowly and surely. and that is typically also good advice for if you want to include more kinky content. the first time people have sex they're not gonna jump straight into that. even if they're experienced in kink they still have to get to know one another and get a feel for each other's bodies, what they do and don't like, etc.

there's further tension to explore if you utilize those intimate scenes correctly, continuing to build and escalate each time upon the previous moments. don't just jump straight to crazy sex. build up to it. let them explore each other and their sexuality together. that is where the steam comes from, the continuation of tension, the excitement of getting to know one another. don't just steamroll right over opportunities for development and sensuality.

anyway that's it folks bc this post is long af. have fun, write freaky shit, write cute shit, write what makes u happy and horny.

[alwaysshallow]

single mom x price; PART 2

AO3 VERSION

part one || part three || part four

“Please. Be good, alright?”

You look down at your son. He holds his bear close to his chest; defensive, as you sense—you almost sigh at this view. He’s in a bad moment. The moment where he needs no one, but his mom and the cuddles that you normally would give him, if the nanny wouldn’t be on her way.

And it’s his favorite nanny.

You’re reluctant to let him stay in the house, considering not only his humor, but the earlier tantrum that he gave you. Something between “you’re the worst mother ever”—which only gives you an eye roll, but it’s a potential theme for a cry session later on—and “i don’t want anyone else but you”.

Normally, you’d call your mother that loves him to the core, but given that she’s in Hawaii, not really reachable for you and possibly not in the mood to listen to your problems. She only wants to do it when she’s bored, and if she can give you her “golden advice” without a chance of being cut off by you putting a phone away because she crossed a line.

Which happened too many times in the past, since she just absolutely adored engaging in your life. Reminding you every time that you are responsible for the position you found yourself in and the only thing that could possibly save you is listening to her. Marrying the man that she gets to pick.

Because the mother knows best, as she always says.

The irony of beefing with your son is irritating for you too; especially that you need a nanny for an hour, maybe a little more because you need to go to the town meeting. You could skip it, sure, but it’s like skipping an opportunity; and who knows what will happen. Maybe you’ll get around doing something that will bring money, if they will talk about the spring festival.

Last year you got yourself quite a deal, so the thought is exciting enough for you.

The possibility of meeting John is thrilling, too, even if you don’t want to admit it directly. Everything about this man is electric, enticing enough for you to barely be able to think around him. Something is tingling in your chest, when you think about it. He’s acclimatizing well enough in town too, as you learned—and the town meeting is a good chance to see with whom he’s close.

Animal in a zoo, it would be a good comparison, even if it seems cruel for some reason because John is anything but it.

You get to leave the house after five minutes of talking with your nanny. She’s like an angel, considering that she convinced you to leave, telling you that she’s gonna do alright with your son and his tantrums aren’t really the worst thing that happened in her career.

Which, oddly enough, you believe, without even knowing the details.

You sit in the second row at the meeting. Arms crossed, maybe a little defensive, but you’re not opposed to talking with people that sit near you. They show you photos, talk about their family, ask kindly about yours, until someone mentions a husband when you tell them about a situation from days ago.

Normally, you’d probably make a snarky remark about their comment, saying something how rude it is to point to someone that they need a man, when your point isn’t missing someone to help you around.

That’s normally, if your ears wouldn’t catch that voice. The voice that’s hard to forget even if you’d desperately try to do it. Deep, drawing attention to the owner immediately, like a moth to a flame because the desire to look is impossible to resist. Everyone knows that the appearance does the magic, but if the voice is attractive, most likely is the one who has it.

And that’s exactly John Price.

You observe him only with a corner of your eye, assured that if you’re gonna glance at him once then he’s gonna know where you are. It’s like the seventh sense of his, probably acquired after his job, at least you think that’s the case.

You don’t need that. What you actually want, need, is a small dose of mystery that you currently have without him knowing you’re here.

Maybe that’s not fair, but you don’t care.

He talks mostly with guys from the local workshop; they vigorously explain something to him and he nods. Listens, then responds in such a different mannerism that they represent. Calmer, more stoic, yet it can’t be mistaken with indifference. He’s just… thinking type, you assume. The one who calculates before taking any action.

Wise man, so to speak.

Besides the boring stuff at the community meeting, there’s just one thing that could potentially interest you in—competition for the best garden in town. It has everyone gossiping there and there in a deep hope, or strategies what to do to earn a win; mostly those successful, straight out of family movie moms, ideal moms who are doing everything for their families. Chit-chatter about flowers, techniques and stuff disrupts everything enough to make a meeting come to an end. There’s no point in continuing, when no one listens.

You aren’t even considering the competition, but it gets you enough to think of renovating your garden. Forgotten long ago, as it needed too much work when you had a small kid; right now, when your son is six, there’s way more opportunities for you to actually try to tend it. Who knows, maybe spring is the best time for that.

“So. Gonna snatch that first place reward?” You almost jump, when you feel a hand on your hip. Light touch, but waking you up from your thoughts enough to acknowledge how tender it is. Allowing you to back off easily, if you’d feel like it’s too much.

But you know who this is. And you somehow know that it’s not too much.

“I wish,” you laugh dryly, looking finally at John. He arches an eyebrow, then proceeds to walk back to back with you, no hesitation in his moves whatsoever. “Not really a gardener. Besides, knowing how my garden looks right now… Not really a chance, no.”

There’s a second of silence. “Could help you with that,” he says, fixing his shirt; you give him a quick glance. His outfit isn't really different from the other times. Simple flannel, worn out jeans, combat boots and this well-known, plastered smile into his lips. Charming and dangerous, you think. “I have time, if you really want it.”

You clear your throat, conflicted. Do you really care that much about possibly winning a contest? Maybe John’s help would really do wonders, considering that he already helped a lot of people in the neighborhood; with success that didn’t take much time, as you know.

Kind, nice, doesn’t want anything else in return; could work for you for free. You’re 99% sure that you would bake him a pie or something anyway, but the thought you wouldn’t have trouble with payment is nice enough.

“Maybe. I need to think about it.” He raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nods his head in an understanding manner.

“We’ll exchange numbers, then. It’ll be easier,” John announces, giving you his phone. You look at him, dumbstruck—it wasn’t exactly your plan to do this.

“I don’t— Well, I don’t think it’s necessary—”

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Nonsense. Come on.” Price smiles; like an angel, truly. Angel in a disguise of a tempting devil because you enter your number into his contacts, even if you wanted to keep it as a secret a little bit more. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Didn’t think I’m some kind of a creep, did you?”

Your face flushes with pure red, when he implies that. “No! No. I’m just… I don’t use a phone often,” you croak. White lie that don't really need much explanation from you.

“That right,” he muses, possibly amused with your hurried talk. “I’ll call you in a few, then.”

He sticks to his promise, as you learn over the next few days.

The thing is: you don’t pick up.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you see a few missed calls on the phone, the moment you come back from the grocery store. Or, when you’re out in the garden with your kid, planning how it’s gonna change in the future because you’re just taken-aback by how bad it looks. Like it’s not your garden.

Maybe the problem is your lack of courage to call him, too. It would take one click and you’d be done with the task, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to it. Mixed feelings and the “I can take care of anything” mindset doesn’t help you much.

It feels like a reminder to call back, when you see John outside. He’s in the middle of a discussion with some teenagers that were screaming earlier, disrupting the precious night silence. You thank him in mind that you don’t have to do it—as you got up from bed only for this—you just observe everything behind your window, wrapped in a fluffy robe. You can’t miss the drama, even if it means that you’ll lose a few minutes of your sleep.

Your humor gets better automatically, as you even laugh at how disappointed they seem, going straight up to their homes.

And then, you cross gazes with him.

There’s a faint smile from John. He raises his hand, greeting you, so you do the same. However, the difference in moves is clear. John does it slowly, you almost rush to do it and disappear into your bedroom, so he won’t get an idea that you’re up for a talk.

Because you’re not. You’re too tired to do that, to talk with a man that makes a pretty mess in your head every time you’re around him. And, you’re way too ashamed to do that when he called you multiple times and you haven’t answered even a single one of it.

Some part of you wants to give in and text him right after you see him, but you let this idea flow by. You’re gonna text him at the right moment, you think. The middle of the day, or when you’re gonna see that he works over something, so he won’t be able to read it right away.

You forget about your declaration soon enough. Way too caught up with balancing between home, work and school, you don’t quite realize that the longer you’ll extend the whole thing, the longer it will be over your head.

On Monday, you’re reminded. At first, you don’t really acknowledge it, too irritated that you can’t move your car because someone decided to park behind you, blocking your way. The only thing that keeps you from screaming is your son that does not really care what’s going on. He just sits in the back, playing with his toys, unbothered.

The realization of whose car it is, overwhelms you completely in one moment. You know whose car it is. It’s hard not to, really, when you think about it: there’s only one pick up truck around. The neighborhood is full with families that prefer—most definitely—a car more efficient, a car that has more seats because that’s the only way everyone will fit and ride for football games and all that shit.

The thought you have to ask him out of all people, gives you a migraine.

It’s an awkward thought; the way you have to say something. You haven’t returned any of his calls, treating him like some one night stand (even if it wasn’t the case because you never slept together), and now you want him to move his car. Theoretically speaking, he should do it without even thinking twice.

You can’t help but wonder though, if he’s even gonna acknowledge your plea, given you ignored the shit out of him.

Rude, you think. You’re rude and you did nothing about the calls. About the proposition. You totally ignored John Price, and now you’re embarrassed because you have to ask him something. Maybe if you’d think of calling him back, you wouldn’t even be stressed about this situation. Quick text to him, and there he is, moving his car.

In another lifetime, though. In this, you have to do something else.

After you tell your kid you’re gonna be back in a second, you decide to test your luck and jog into his house, just a few meters away, knocking with a whole monologue in your head. How you need him to move your car because your kid needs to go to school. How you need it to go to the grocery store, you even think of giving him an excuse that you need to go to your mom, even if it’s a straight up lie.

You don’t have to wait long. Door swings open a few seconds later and you can see John, a little bit sleepy and confused—possibly because no one normally wants to see someone at seven in the morning.

He speaks before you have a chance to do it. “So eager to apologize, eh?”

It takes you a few seconds before you stare into his eyes, instead of his chest. “Excuse me?” You blink several times. It’s not like you didn’t understand what he said, it’s just his body that you pay too much attention to. He has no shirt on himself, his sweats low on his hips. Tempting.

You do not look lower than that, for the sake of your sanity. No time for fantasies—and it seems like he knows what you’re thinking, as he smirks with that annoying smugness that he has.

“You haven’t returned my calls,” he says, voice low. Might be the consequence of just waking up, but you think of it as seductive. You’re not gonna rub it into his face though, when he literally has the upper hand in this situation. Wouldn’t be smart. “Thought you’re here ‘cause of it.”

You clear your throat. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. “Yeah. We’ll talk about this later, but could you—”

“Why?” John tilts his head. It doesn’t help your case in any way. “We have time, you came here early. Might as well—”

“There’s… a lot going on,” you blurt out, interrupting. You don’t really know if he believes you or not, but he certainly is interested in why. So, before he has the chance to say that, you speak up again, "And you have to move your car first.”

“A lot? You know that I offered to help if something’s too much, right?”

You forget how to breathe for a minute. His tone is hard, a sheer contrast to playful John that was here just a minute ago. Not quite scary, since it doesn’t even sound like a threat, but it is a reminder. Urgent one. “I know, but—"

“None of that. If you need something, you call me.”

“Right now, I need you to fix your car.” Comes out a little bit aggressive. It has Price raising an eyebrow.

“My car seems perfectly good, why would I do that?" John leans against the door frame, looking down at you. You're pretty sure you've never felt smaller than you do now.

Using his advantage to intimidate you is smart. Something that he’s gonna do, if you’re gonna show him that you’re weak for it.

You cough. Trying to be civil here is a necessity, you think. Especially if you actively ignored him before. "Thing is, you blocked my car," you try to explain—calmly, before you run away from him; you even point at your red Mazda, a late birthday gift from your grandfather. "I have to… drive my son to his school."

"I did?" he raises his eyebrow. For a minute, his eyes are off you, attention on the parking lot, trying to search for the problem. Then, he looks at you again. "Mm. Seems perfectly fine to me, love.”

Love. He does it to annoy you, that’s the only reason why he’s so unfazed. Or, he’s trying to achieve something different, but for now, you can’t think straight when this man—half naked man, to be exact—blocks your car’s way, looking good.

Too good.

“I can’t move in any way. You’re… too close.”

“Too close? Could say this sooner—”

“—too close with your car, I mean,” you add, weakly. Price has you stepping on your tiptoes, so careful with picking your words. Precise what you mean because if you’re not gonna do it, he could take advantage and change the meaning.

He chuckles, his smile widening. If he’d be anyone else, you’d think that is a predator move. “Makin’ you all nervous and stressed. Why? Am I this scary, love?”

Again. Again this pet name.

“Just— Can you, please, move your car?” you ask, massaging your temples. He makes you weak in the knees and irritated at the same time; you don’t even acknowledge the steps forward that he makes.

He gets your attention the moment he tips your chin up. This feeling itself is making your stomach jump; skin sizzles with that specific need, deep in your heart that you rather not admit, but it is there. It is there, and John makes it difficult not to melt into a puddle in his hands. Ridiculously warm hands on your skin, to add.

The comfort he brings wraps around you tight like a blanket in particularly cold mornings. Important, needed even, especially in fragile moments. You almost forgot how it feels.

“What car is it? Red mazda?” He breaks eye contact with you for a second to glance once again at the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

He locks his eyes with you again. “Oh, honey. Should say that sooner”

There’s a storm happening inside your head; a strange type of deja vu falls on you like a tsunami wave; unexpected and cruel in some way. Did you not tell him what car is it? That's why he acted funny, so cocky, not taking you seriously? You’re sure you pointed in the right direction, even if you didn’t tell him what car it was. He looked here.

Or maybe he didn't? Why would he lie, though? You might as well be tired, you think. It’s not easy to be a single mom, to balance everything out.

Right?

Storm inside your head makes you ignore the warm feeling in your stomach, when John guides you to the parking lot with his big hand on the small of your back.

“I'm sorry.”

"It's okay. Nothing, really," you gulp. "You're new here, so you might not know my car."

Even if you’re sure you pointed him the direction of it.

“Could know better,” he hums, caressing your clothed skin. Tenderly, afraid to break you in any means. “So, so sorry. Really. And look, now because of me you have to put up with being late. Came home later than usual… If I saw all of that, I’d find a different spot.”

You smile a little, pleased with his explanation. There’s nothing wrong in your mind about this situation, nothing that could indicate that he’s lying. Even if he’s a little too close for comfort, you think it’s because that’s who he is.

He moves his car quickly, while you talk to your kid; he almost didn’t notice your disappearance, too interested in his toys. Even if you want desperately to listen, your brain is too occupied with the previous situation, with Price looking so good without a shirt.

Your son tells you about the “drama” between the elephant and monkey when John comes back into the picture, right before you are about to reverse.

“Everythin’ good now? Nothing else to take care of?”

“Everything’s alright.” You give him another smile. “Thank you, John.”

“No problem.” He glances at your kid, then, back at you. “We’ll have to talk later. About the garden.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll have to.”

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (5)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, stalking, mention of injury

word count: 1.8K

note: I am so sorry for the late post, the words were just not wording and I needed more time to figure out what I wanted to be said. But I finished this chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

Baela and you had split up only a couple of hours ago. She had gotten a call and had needed to leave right away. You had asked what was going on but she assured you everything was fine before leaving.

You still had some errands to do, which lead you across the city to the East side. By the time you finished it had gotten pretty late. Most of the stores were closed and the taxi services were no longer in commission. You looked at your phone to see when the next train was, seeing that you needed to make it fifteen blocks in order to catch the last train for the red line. You began walking, taking in the cool evening air when you had an odd, gut feeling that something wasn’t right.

The streets were a little too quiet, which was never the case during this time. Usually there would be groups of people out walking, people on their balconies laughing but tonight there was just…quiet. You took a look over your shoulder to try and ease your thoughts only to see the man Daemon had mentioned earlier following you.

You looked forward, picking up the pace as you turned the corner. You thought that maybe it was a coincidence but that would be impossible. There were no coincidences in this city, you of all people should know that. 

You were made keenly aware that you were nowhere near your apartment nor the train station and there was no way you were going to end up in a subway possibly cornered. You were up on the East side, a side that you didn’t venture much on your own, meaning you were very unfamiliar with it. This was supposed to be a safe part of the city since the rich and high class lived here, there  was no way something would happen to you.

Clearly not, as the footsteps behind you got louder, making you instinctually speed up. 

This shouldn’t be happening, Daemon should have intervened by now. Unless that whole conversation was just to get under your skin, to throw you off. 

What a prick. 

However as much as Daemon was a prick you weren’t willing to find out if he was a liar.

You had grabbed your mace out of your bag, your body going into autopilot as your senses tried to assess how close this man was getting to you. You took a turn ending up on a familiar cobblestone street and realized exactly where you could go. You turned down another corner, heading for the brownstone at the end of the street. 

You took the stairs two at a time, repeatedly knocking on the door quickly as you watched from the corner of your eye as the man continued to approach. 

The heavy wooden door opened to reveal a shirtless and very confused Aemond Targaryen. 

“What-”

You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your way inside as you pushed him up against the wall and out of view of the street, kicking the door shut. You peaked through the side window, moving the curtain to see the man that was following you get picked up by a black Audi before speeding away. 

“Happy to see you too.”

You looked up to see Aemond smirking at you. You quickly pulled away, taking a couple steps back as you shoved your mace back in your bag. “Your guard dog take the night off?”

Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed, noting what was just in your hand. “Huh?”

“Someone was following me. I thought Daemon was on protection detail.”

His face twisted before he grabbed your hand, taking you up the stairs of the foyer and into the kitchen. He grabbed his phone off the kitchen island.

He started scrolling through contacts. “Help yourself to anything you want, I have to make a call.”

“I think I’ll just go-”

“Sit.”

You instinctively took a seat at the island, watching him walk around the corner to where his office was. You rolled your eyes at yourself, right back here and right back into your old ways. 

You set your shopping bags on the ground and put your coat over your chair heading over to the oven where something was simmering. It looked like Aemond had just finished making some mac n’ cheese.

He did say help yourself.

You grabbed a bowl from the shelf and supplied some golden crescents to your bowl. You had just sat down and taken a forkful to your mouth when Aemond came back in, with a shirt on, as he tied up his hair into a low bun.

He looked kinda pretty as a few of the shorter strands framed his face. 

He smirked, noting you had been staring. “Eating my food already.”

You blinked, looking away. “You said help yourself.”

“Indeed I did.” He grabbed a bowl, joining you across the island.

It was silent for a while, both of you eating your portions. It felt… normal. Like old times, a chill went down your spine at that. You needed to change that.

“Everything okay?”

Aemond’s face darkened. “It will be.”

“Is Daemon-”

“He’s being taken care of by the family doctor.”

You nodded. “The same one who stitched me up?”

His eyes met yours before quickly looking at the counter, he cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

You put your fork down, sitting back in your chair crossing your arms. “I’m going to need an explanation.”

He mirrored your stance, leaning back against the counter. “I don’t think that's a good idea.”

You started getting up. “Then I’m leaving.”

“No.” He reached over the counter to grab your hand. 

You looked up at him. “You were a real asshole the last time we spoke, you know that right?”

He let out a sigh, letting your hand go. “I know. I… I didn’t expect to see you and I was drunk.”

“You never acted like that while you were drunk before.”

“That’s because I dated you.”

You felt your face heat up at that. “Maybe you shouldn’t make it a habit. You're a bit of a mean drunk.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were rude.”

“I was flirting.”

“You’re engaged.”

He frowned. “I know.”

“We’re going to have to talk about it. At least to make peace.”

His eyes softened. “I-I can’t.”

You moved to grab your stuff as you made your way to the door. More secrets, more difficulties. You needed the whole truth or nothing and you were beginning to grow tired of being the only one who wanted to have a peaceful life. 

“It’s the Lannisters.”

Your feet stopped moving, you almost dropped your things. You slowly turned towards him. “You said they were gone.”

“They were but- but things got complicated. I am going to take care of it.”

“What happened, Aemond?”

“You came back, you weren’t supposed to come back and then everything got more complicated and then Alys-”

“Slow down.” You couldn’t make sense of anything he was trying to say.

He was breathing quickly and his words were beginning to jumble to the point where understanding him was impossible. Tears looked like they were ready to spill from his eyes. You dropped your stuff, walking over to him and taking his face in your hands. 

You forced him to look at you. “Breathe, Aemond.”

You moved your hands down so they were rubbing up and down his arms. “You need to breathe.”

He leaned forward, putting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

Then another. 

You closed your eyes, leaning into him and the familiar sage scent that he got from using his body wash. Despite the years, despite the pain, despite everything you still missed him. He was your everything when you were a teen, he was the only family you had at one point and now, being this close to him, you wondered how you had gone so long without him.

But he was engaged, and as much as you wanted to be selfish you just couldn’t do it. 

You pulled away, taking a step back from him. “The Lannisters are back?”

He seemed disappointed. 

He nodded, rubbing his face. “They’ve been back for a couple months now.”

“You should have told me.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you involved in this again.”

“Aemond I am involved in this, I mean I was being followed home. Daemon got hurt. It’s like five years ago all over again.”

“No it's not.” He came towards you taking your hands and rubbing his thumb in a circle on the back of your hand. “I’m not going to let that night happen again. I’m not gonna lose you, do you understand me?”

He was looking intensely into your eyes, then his gaze moved to your lips. You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close.

“Aemond.” You breathed. Your head began to spin as if you were drunk, your thoughts going quiet as your body started to move closer to his as if you were magnets destined to meet again. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” He leaned down, his breath fanning your face.

“Aemond.” The noise you made was a mixture of a whimper and a plea as Aemond leaned closer meeting your lips with his.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as his tongue invaded your mouth. You snaked your hands up into his hair, pulling the strands from the bun he wore. He moaned, pulling you impossibly closer as he nipped your lower lip. You felt like you were on fire, as your teeth clashed, the kiss becoming more hungry. 

More desperate. 

Suddenly his phone rang, causing the two of you to jump apart, finally being brought back to reality. He took his phone out of his back pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

“I have to take this.” 

You nodded.

“You aren’t leaving tonight,” he said. “You can stay in my room, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t you still have a guest room?”

His face turned red. “Not anymore.”

He turned, heading towards his office as he answered his phone, closing the door behind him.

You made your way upstairs, heading past where you remembered the guest room to be. Against your better judgment you peered inside to see the room that used to house a queen sized bed now be filled with boxes of all kinds of things. 

You crept inside, looking into one of the closer boxes. You knew you shouldn't be snooping but after everything that happened tonight you thought fuck it. 

You reached into one of the opened boxes pulling out a small onesie. One that was meant for a baby.

Your heart felt like it shattered.

Yeah, maybe you should have minded your business.

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @namelesslosers @tssf-imagines @xcharlottemikaelsonx @yourbane @beary-rambles @a-beaverhausen @lightblindingme

[eamour]

daydreaming and imagining

when it comes to manifesting, people like to either daydream or imagine their desires which does sound like pretty much the same. nevertheless — it's not. daydreaming does not equal imagining, vice versa.

daydreaming

meaning · thinking of your desire

to daydream replaces the term "thinking of your desire". when you are daydreaming, you occupy a state of mind where you view yourself as well as your desire separated from each other. you could also say that you only pass through your desired state without truly embodying it and end up going back to your old dwelling state (wavering). you don't claim to have your desire, nor do you declare yourself to be in possession of it. you feel distant to it, almost as if it's impossible, unrealistic or illogical to achieve. you are desiring, aware of wanting your desire, craving and longing for the feeling, making you experience the lack of it. you feel uneasy about how your current reality looks like as you are waiting for some sort of movement or shift. you are dissatisfied about the present moment and view your manifestation as a target you need to aim for, perceiving it as a goal to attain. internally, you know that your desire hasn't been realised yet and wonder how it could possibly materialise. you analyse and examine your outer world a lot, judging it by its looks. you often ask yourself if your desires are ever gonna unfold. thus, you rely on the evidence of your senses, using the 3D as a tool to validate you. by waiting for its confirmation that you ask for so desperately, you automatically assign meaning and also power to the outer world. you let the physical world determine and dictate your mental world. by doing so, you give away control, but still continue to feel responsible and guilty. you repeatedly spiral, wondering what you could be doing wrong, not having full faith or trust in yourself. you don't quite believe in yourself and tend to give in. you endure the 3D as best as you can but often times, you consider your desire to be out of reach. you dream of the mere possibility and depend on the next moment you feel a motivational boost. frequently, you start to doubt, feeling uncertain and unsure about your ability to manifest. you find yourself feeling incapable and scare away from seemingly "big" wishes and wants. you feel needy, irritated and confused. you fight feeling resistant or pressured towards how you want your life to be like. you are afraid that you might never manifest your desired life.

imagining

meaning · thinking from your desire

to imagine can be used as a synonym for "thinking from your desire". as the term says, when you imagine your desires, you think from the point of view where you have them already. you experience them and live life from having whatever it is that you desire. you occupy the state of your wish being fulfilled, knowing and accepting that what you want already exists within you. you understand that nothing can exist outside of you and that life happens from you, so you trust yourself, believe in your capabilities and have faith in the law. you feel calm, confident and content as you are fulfilling your inner self, leaving the outer world as it is. you don't feel the need or the urge to change or control the 3D. there is simply no need for you to stress, worry or struggle. you understand that everything is yours, creation is finished and it all exists already. all you do is step into the state of having and being, living in the end where you got it all. you are one with your desire, you are connected to it as well as all the other contents of your reality. your desire has now become a part of you and you are free to chill, relax and to surrender. you have full trust that your desire will and has to unfold exactly how you want it and don't disturb your inner peace by overanalysing or unnecessary questioning. you don't need to rely on external proof, making your state of being depend on the outer world. you are the owner of your desire, the owner of your reality and stay unbothered by any physical circumstance. you are unaffected by anything that isn't favourable for you and refuse to be led on or negatively influenced. you remain living in your imagination, declaring it to be your one and only reality. whenever you desire something, you know that you don't go outside of yourself, searching for what is already within you. anything you could possibly seek, exists in your mind.

with love, ella.

[strwberri-milk]

Could I request Kaeya, Al-Haitham and Kaveh with an s/o who likes to stare at their *ahem* assets (chest, butt, legs, any exposed skin, etc) when they're not looking (but of course they are fully aware)?

He loves preening under your watchful gaze. Sometimes, he'll even pull the collar of his shirt down more for you because he knows just how much you love it.

You try your best to be subtle but of course you can't when he's practically offering himself up to you in the most astounding ways. You can see it in the way he turns his shoulders or looks at you through his long lashes but for some reason, you have no idea that he's caught on to the fact that you love to stare at him.

He's developed a secret sense for when your eyes are resting on certain parts of his body and he makes sure to really accentuate them more for your pleasure.

Yes he drops things to bend over and pick them up. No you cannot do anything about it.

He's never going to admit that he knows because he doesn't want to mortify you so much to the point where you stop. As far as he's concerned all he wants is for your eyes to sit on him at all times.

Kaveh likes to pretend that he finds it annoying or unnerving almost but he will never outwardly mention anything. He will never tell you that despite pretending outwardly that he doesn't like being stared at he actually really enjoys it and finds ways to give you what you want.

He's not going to be as bold as Kaeya is but he has his moments. Maybe if he's feeling a little risque he'll let his shirt ride up more, or let the collar come off his shoulder just a little further. It's all in the teasing of his actions and he'll never ever look up at you. He's worried if he meets your eyes he'll shut down and just cover up again.

As he gets more used to your gaze he'll feed you a little more. An accidental slip here, a brush of your hand against his skin there. Just tiny things that are normal in relationships to have but he knows it excites you so much since you're always staring when you think he doesn't notice.

Your best times to actually stare at him would be when he's working on a project. Then, he ties his hair up exposing the nape of his neck as his pants slide a little further down his hips from the constant rubbing up against his drafting table.

He won't actually notice you then, but you'll definitely notice all the things that are happening around him to give more to your predatory gaze.

Al Haithaim just brushes off your gaze with a mildly amused chuckle. He doesn't mind your staring, but he also won't necessairly entertain it. Unless, of course, he's decided that it'll be interesting to watch you squirm as he stretches his arms to tense up his chest.

He'll exaggerate a few moments just for your viewing pleasure if he's feeling bored, secretly observing your own reactions in turn. He's not satsified until he hears that slight catch in your throat, flexing a little of those muscles he's got.

Not only that but the way he rests even seems a little too sensual to make sense. His hands rest on his stomach or waist, legs crossed in a manner that seems both unapproachble yet inviting. He always looks at you from over a book or something similar, highlighting the intense look of his eyes to such an extent that it makes you breathless.

He knows exactly what he's doing to you and no matter if it's intentional or not, he'll make sure that it serves to make you breathless.

[dutchdread]

Ouch, that's gotta hurt.

Watching Cleriths celebrate NPTK these past weeks, knowing they'll, as always, be proven incorrect has been an exercise in patience. Sometimes it's just clear that you won't be able to convince people of a complex truth when so often discourse is limited to 280 characters. The reason Clerith exists is that people are unable to see the big picture, it survives by people squinting and not seeing the "but" that's located right after every piece of evidence they put forward. This means that you'll often be perceived to be arguing against what is to them the blatantly obvious. It's futile, nuanced argument never wins from emotion, so often you just have to take solace in the idea that "well, it will be fun to see their surprise 4 years from now". So when you get an interview like this, mere weeks after the game releases, which confirms everything that Clotis had been saying about, and had been mocked for, NPTK, you can't help feel a sense of schadenfreude.

Man that's gotta hurt. This is the difference between Clotis and Cleriths. Cleriths don't really like Aerith, because they want to assassinate her character. Rather than a sad tragic tale of a lifetime of love and loss they want to reduce her character to a shallow cliche rom-com about a capricious girl whose fickle affections change by the hour. The fact that the first person Aerith starts developing feelings for after 5 years of pining after Zack is a man who is almost literally channeling Zack becomes a meaningless coincidence in the story. The fact that she knows Cloud for 2 weeks, most of which is also spent pining over Zack is viewed as confirmation of how special their love is. It doesn't matter that Aerith doesn't even know who Cloud is. It doesn't matter that Cloud is shown to very obviously be in love with another woman. It doesn't matter that Cloud is clearly losing his mind. It doesn't matter that Cloud is constantly show as being apathetic towards her advancements. Even them fighting is recontextualized as "good chemistry" just to avoid facing reality. Usually nonsensical romances are seen as bad-writing, but here the cope makes people excuse all the nonsense as "how brilliantly written is this story? They love each other despite it making no sense, now THAT is romance". Zack is called irrelevant, CC is a "ret-con" and can be ignored, ACC is about how romantic it is to want to die to be with someone. The reason Zack is so predominant in Rebirth is in no way connected to Aerith yearning for exactly the bond he's constantly showing to have with her. The contrast with Clouds apathy means nothing, he definitely isn't there to have some sort of pay-off with Aerith in part 3. Nah, he's just there to give Cloud and Aerith his blessing and to F-off. The reason Tifa is silent and heartbroken at the end has nothing to do with her best friend dying and the man she loves losing his mind. The distance between her and Cloud at that moment is totally not used to illustrate the severity of the situation, or to set-up Tifas importance in the events for part 3. Nah, she doesn't get lines because she's just a side character duh!. That is how they think, every single character and story is assassinated, everything happens only to service Cloud and Aeriths romance, even Cloud and Aerith themselves are pushed through the mud. Screw the death of Ifalna, screw the death of Zack, screw the complexity surrounding Clouds Zack shaped psychology, screw Aeriths childhood and desire for real bonds of friendship, screw even the story of Aerith dying and how maybe, JUST MAYBE, the scenes surrounding Aeriths death have SOMETHING to do with the strong emotions surrounding death rather than just being "a cute romance scene uwu". Never have I seen any story interpretation reveal such rampant hatred for a character as Cleriths reveal for Aerith. To them, Aerith is totally the kind of person who would bond with Tifa, hear the very personal and intimate story about the promise shared between her and Cloud, hear that Cloud thinks that Zack is dead, and not 5 minutes later write a story about how "she loves Cloud and they wouldn't need no promises like that other girl". But sure, I'm the one who hates Aerith, not the people who think this is who she is, but me, the person who assumed she'd be less vile than that and that any song she'd write would encompass more than that. I stand up for her character and get mocked, called an Aerith hater, and called "toxic"....and then you get an interview like this. God it feels good to always have all your positions validated by future content. One has to wonder if the people still arguing for Clerith ever sit back and think "wait, the last 100 times I dismissed these peoples arguments I was proven wrong almost immediately, I am constantly having to shift my goalposts while they're just happily sitting there laughing as they consume media about Cloud kissing Tifa, or proclaiming to become her special existence....maybe I am the delusional one...." God I can't wait for part 3, it will be hilarious.

[barblaz-arts]

Ok I lied, one more Hazbin character ask.🙏

Thoughts on Lucifer, Carmilla, Rosie, and Adam?

Lucifer

I love love love him. Terrible dad tho! Lmfaoo

Genuinely think Charlie let him off the hook too easy for all the neglect imo. It's kinda weird how most of the fandom suddenly thinks he's a great dad. He's okay at best, tbh. Just because he has a gorgeous singing voice(Jeremy Jordan is the fuckin BEST man) and a silly personality doesn't mean everything's swell. I hope the second season further tackles this. I remember someone saying before that Lucifer resembled a dad who accidentally had a baby as a teen and doesn't actually know how to be a father and I haven't forgotten about how accurate that is. Still tho! Great character! I'm not even exactly mad about him being popular, just a little bothered by how he's viewed by most people. I hope the show has him do more than sing a musical number to EARN Charlie's forgiveness

Carmilla

I love her, even if the way her character is written is a little, um, how do I say it? Weird? Doesn't make sense sometimes.

Like how she's a demon Overlord who sells weapons but has a line that goes "I always thought that I would keep blood off my face". So does that mean she's never killed anyone before? Or maybe she swore off killing at some point? If she's only ever taken a life to protect her daughters, what sin did she commit to get her to end up in Hell, with her daughters no less. I have my speculations, but with how little we know about her, speculations don't change the fact that Carmilla is a strangely written character. She has some moments that are just questionable choices from the writers too. Like, how they had Carmilla point out how obvious Vaggie's nature is, making Charlie's feelings of betrayal look a little stupid on Charlie's part. Or how Carmilla sang to Vaggie that she should focus on love and not revenge, even though all Vaggie has ever thought about is protecting Charlie while never showing any signs of even thinking about getting back at Lute. Such a strange character. I hope she makes more sense next season when we get to see more of her, because I truly do love her. If this is never tackled though and I just happen to be overthinking, it's fine. I still like her anyways.

Rosie

A really sweet lady for a, um, cannibal. I can never get behind the fact that she and the other characters eat people RAW though! No matter how beautiful she is, the hotness factor is knocked down as long as you don't clean, cook, and season your food, maam. Nasty.

I hope we see more of her relationship with Charlie though. People keep talking about how Carmilla and Vaggie are similar, but I feel we should talk about her similarities with Charlie too. Throughout the show Charlie is ridiculed and given no respect by her people because of her sweet nature and jolly disposition, but here Rosie is being all those things and yet has a whole town to lead! I hope them meeting is set up to have Charlie learn even more from her.

Adam

Oh man he vexes me lol I don't completely hate him, because he has some funny moments, and kickass songs, and the OG Broadway Beetlejuice voices him, but he's suuuuuch an asshooooole. He's not even the kind of villain that you still like to see and romanticize even when he's evil. At least to me. I think my brother explained accurately why. He hates Adam in fact, and that's because his attitude and personality is too accurate to incels that you can see in real life. I enjoyed him as the first season's villain, but I do NOT want him coming back somehow as a sinner like others want. I want him to stay dead. It's Lute's turn to be the new big bad. I still have Pentious if I want more Alex Brightman anyway.

[jelloia]

a post on how yanqing's monologue in the 2.4 quest aligns perfectly with his character story (+ why jing yuan is a great father figure / mentor)

so we all know that yanqing is regarded as the best swordsman on the luofu (character story part I), and when you read his character story part II, it's obvious why:

When hunting near a distant star, the monstrously huge mechabeast Windguard created by the Denizens of Abundance was pulverizing defense forces as though they were ants. But this young boy met against it face-to-face, claiming its head and routing the enemy to the point of collapse. As for subsequent victories: He broke the borisin's Devouring Wolf formation with Jing Yuan, beheading three Brood Lords. He also fought viciously against the wingweavers, ultimately sinking their almighty Cloudseizer Fleet... These are just a small footnote in the annals of his courageous swordplay.

yanqing mentions himself how he isn't like normal kids, but it's kind of startling and unnatural to read about how fearless he is. after all, he isn't like kafka--who literally cannot feel fear--he's just genuinely that good at his art

to jing yuan, yanqing's constant improvement is a reminder of how even though long-life species don't need to fear time decaying their body, their warped sense of time means they are often stagnate in their ideals and ultimately how they live their lives

"General... I finally... won." The general pauses. He suddenly realizes that, compared to the boy trying to improve every day, he himself has endured too many years and is used to stagnation.

the paradox though is that if you only win, that in itself is a form of stagnation.

so if you always succeed while being constantly praised from a young age, what happens when you lose for the first time?

from the average honkai star rail player's perspective, it's laughable that we see someone as decorated as yanqing be defeated multiple times in a row. it makes us wonder whether he even deserves his title, seeing how weak he is compared to jingliu, blade, and imbibitor lunae.

in actuality, this is a genius writing move. by bringing the player into the story right when yanqing starts losing, we begin having the same doubts and suspicions about yanqing that he is about himself. all the scorn and hatred he gets from the fandom are things i'm sure he's thought about himself.

what's even more interesting about yanqing is that most hsr characters are grown and had their early development offscreen, but we are experiencing yanqing's first big low firsthand, right along with him.

but believe it or not, this is exactly what jing yuan wanted.

according to yanqing's character story part IV:

Yanqing became an unrivaled fighter aboard the Xianzhou Luofu as his skills grew more and more advanced. Jing Yuan gradually began thinking about ways to restrain Yanqing's edge, to take him down a peg without curbing his confidence. Too solid and it can shatter. Too sharp and it can blunt. More than just a sharp edge — a sword also needs a scabbard that can restrain it. In Jing Yuan's view, Yanqing has grown up exceedingly fast — beyond expectations. What Yanqing needs right now is not more strength, but the ability and experience of curbing that strength — something that can only manifest by the passage of time.

jing yuan knows exactly what can happen to those blessed with enormous power. unchecked strength and confidence is a double edged sword--it's precisely this overconfidence that got yanqing into fighting with blade/il and challenging jingliu, yet it's also one of yanqing's best features. what jing yuan wants is for yanqing to continue to believe in himself and be courageous, but also practice control and resilience, even after resounding defeat.

"All's equal in war, and sneak attacks are a good idea. It's too bad your sword is so focused on the flourish and can't conceal its form. Is this what they call youthful vigor?"

there are some things you cannot directly teach, and it's not as though jing yuan planned for yanqing to meet jingliu/etc. jing yuan believes that only time can teach yanqing, yet it's also tricky because for long-life species, time is not just a wheel pushing progress but a cycle repeating the same things over and over.

this is why i believe it's a testament to the stellar quality of yanqing's character and jing yuan's raising of him that so relatively quick after all of yanqing's failures...

...yanqing hasn't given up nor run away, but rather discovered that he no longer fights solely for an extrinsic reward--victory, honor, approval--and instead, for something much more permanent

this doesn't mean yanqing's going to stop throwing himself into difficult fights--just take his bickering with yunli as an example--but rather his perspective has changed. yanqing will enter battle even if defeat is inevitable and will keep on going even if he loses. he's continuing to improve, both physically and mentally.

(i also want to point out the juxtaposition of "letting go of everything" and "giving it my all" in yanqing's purpose above; it sounds contradictory but i think it means how fighting helps yanqing feel free and forget the weight on his shoulders, yet it's also a show of passion where he'll fight for his family/friends/ideals to the best of his ability and beyond)

to conclude, yanqing is an insanely complex and well written character, and i'm so happy that the 2.4 quest is exploring everything that has been set up for him so far. connecting this to the final character story i haven't covered yet (part III), i believe that yanqing is closer to achieving his dream than ever before:

It's completely natural for teenage boys to love swords, but a specific dream flickers and dances among the Xianzhou swords in his collection. To become the best on the Luofu — no, the best across all the Xianzhou ships. To take the title of Sword Champion on the Luofu, and even take the title of Sword Preeminence across the Alliance. Since the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, the title of Sword Champion among the Luofu Cloud Knights has remained vacant for centuries. Not that nobody wants to claim it, but for a rather more embarrassing reason: The previous Sword Champion, a legendary swordmaster with 13 outstanding accolades, violated the laws of heaven, resulting in her name being wiped from the face of the cosmos. Even the prestigious title that she bore became a sore spot for others. But for this vastly impressive teen, it's now time to turn over a new page in the annals of history and write another chapter.

ultimately, i think jing yuan said it best:

"You will soon be better than everyone, and that will only be the beginning..."

[em0zombie]

the emperor reversed

Onceler X F!reader

MAIN STORY MASTERLIST

(also posted on Wattpad: @-beachboy !)

1. Fresh Start

It was a quiet ride to truffula forest, "Sorry about my mother back there.." Onceler apologized for his mother's actions. You wanted to smack him in the face for apologizing for his mother's behaviors, but you couldn't do that. His mother never liked you either, maybe she was scared of her son getting all successful and you stealing it- like you'd ever steal anything. "It's fine, Isabella needs to grow up and see that we both hold success in our future!" you place an arm around his, right arm up in the air, "Thneeds and Candyality!" He certainly was glad someone had trust in him. "Yeah, exactly!" Onceler responds and you grab both of yours blueprints from the back to look over them.

...

     "Are we there yet?" You groan while laying in the back. No response, "Oncie- I asked are we there-" siting up straight you see the view that you're in. All of the trees with pink and orange hues sway in the wind, you couldn't believe your eyes. "They're all, something alright..." your crus- friend speaks aloud. "Yeah!" You get out of the wagon and so does he.

     "Good job, Mellie..." you hand the mule a carrot while your friend watches. "Why are you staring at me like that! He needs to be given another treat!" "You're gonna make him gain weight that he doesn't need!" Once yells from the back. You roll your eyes and feed the mule another carrot, he deserves it after having to deal with the two of y'all this whole trip.

...

The house was pulled out and held the two of you perfectly fine, until it came to the bed situation. There was only one.

     "It's fine we can share no big deal!" Once said as you tried to hold in your excitement. "Better than when then the bar-bo-loots tried attacking us..." you mumbled while bringing your luggage inside. "Wait what?" Once yelled out, no response. Sighing, you sit on the bed wishing he was right next to you. God that stupid crush of yours was something dumb, you didn't mean to have it- it just happened? Growing up with the guy you saw how tall he was compared to other kids and how he had a kind heart to...some people?

Outside you can hear Once cutting down a tree which means he's starting to make more thneeds. From one of the windows you can see him dragging the tree, damn was he strong. He turned to see you staring at him, sent a smile your way that you returned back. You got off of the bed and took out your plans for your idea, Candyality.

The idea was basically a candy brand; lollipops, marshmallows, chocolate you name it! Your sweet tooth showed which Onceler would crack a joke about sometimes.

As you're going through your plans you heard bickering outside, Oncie and another man? Standing up you start to see a part of the house falling inward which causes you to scream while running out the door.

...

"What the hell was that?" The Lorax asks, Once almost yells at him again. "That was Y/N!" You hear the two yelling at each other from the back and you walk around to see the commotion.

"That damn wall almost fell onto me! Once, I thought you tied the foundation down-" you're cut off by seeing the short orange figure. "Who's this?" You point in confusion, the figure is appalled by finger pointing. "He calls him self the Lorax, he speaks for the trees." Once mocks. You bend over to see the man, "What an interesting species..." "Why didn't you tell me you had your girlfriend in there! I would never hurt a woman!" Lorax points at you, your eyes in shock. "Woah woah woah!" The two of you say in sync, "We're just friends!" Once states placing a hand on your shoulder. You nodded replying yet the Lorax sees otherwise.

"This man right here tried hammering pipsqueak into the ground!" You look at Once with frowned eyebrows, he doesn't like the sense of judgment coming from you. "Woah woah! You tied him to it!" he defends himself, "I would never hit this little guy! You however, I would gladly pound you and your mustache into the ground!" You couldn't help but giggle, he could never hold his temper. "For shame..." Lorax states, the other animals agree with him. "Look here I'm gonna chop as many trees I need to and you can't stop me!" You realized how bad this may start to get, "And replant them to help the forest stay as it is!" You lean onto Once's side, "Yeah!- what?" He replies.

"Yes! If we cut down trees we have to replant the same amount to keep the balance, and cut only a certain amount each time!" The Lorax becomes skeptical of this idea, but at least he keeps his trees. "I've done research and truffula trees only take 10 years to grow compared to any other tree that takes about 20!" Once is confused, "Are you on his side or mine?" he points to the orange man with his hammer. "Both." you state placing a hand on his shoulder with a mocking smile, you walk over to the Lorax.

"Believe me, I'll help replant them, I can see how much they mean to you." He still seems hesitant, crossing his arms you stand up and drag Once inside to have a talk with him.

...

Closing the door as you're about to have serious discussion with him, he yelps. "Oh what is it now? A spider again- Woah!" You turn around to see Lorax on the desk. "You've left me no choice..." he falls onto the ground, "If you do not replant those trees, all the forces of nature will be released upon you!" Once seems scared yet you're just confused. "You have been warned..." finally ending his monologue. You grab the door to open it for him as he struggled. "You have been warned..." closing it you turned back to Once. "Pound him and his mustache into the ground, really?" He places his hands into the air, "What else was I gonna say?!" You let out a small laugh and go over to the fridge, "What do ya' wanna eat?" You ask leaning and grabbing some stuff out.

...

"It was one tree, Y/N," Once sits down on the bed with his food stuffed mouth, "One tree! Not like I'm gonna cause chaos..." That's what you were most worried about, if it all went down hill. "Don't worry, if I'm by your side nothing will go wrong." Sitting by his side you eat some spaghetti, "And if you help me with my project as well!" Giving him a soft punch on the arm he looks back at you, "I'm glad to have someone like you by my side, you keep all of that hope inside of me..." You chuckle and eat, "Okay no need to get all sappy now..".

___________________________________________

Hi! Sorry if this chapter was pretty short, I'm busy with graduation and college stuff right now so yea 💀 I'll make a new chapter soon!! - Val

[liesmyth]

did john decide which of his friends would be the necromancer and which would be the cavs when he brought them back from the dead, or was that random?

I wish we knew for sure! John's friends ending up 50/50 adepts vs. non-necromancers is obviously one of TM's premises and was done for doylistic reasons first and foremost, but I don't think we have enough elements to conclusively interpret it as intentional in-universe.

Putting aside any kind of authorial intentions, this is what we know:

» The rate of necromancers as part of the population hovers around 30%. John's core group being 50% adepts is way off from that, and could point to manipulation, but also we're working with a very small sample size. Think about how it's very possible to get head five times in a row when flipping coins; probabilities are much less accurate on a smaller scale. I don't believe it's out of the realm of possibilities that a group of 10 people had exactly 5 necromancers in it.

» Harrow's birth. The Reverend Parents made sure she would be a necromancer by manipulating the embryo with thanergy. It's clearly not a known practice among the Houses at large, and John calls it "a sort of Resurrection" — implying that he could be able to do the same with thalergy. However, this doesn't confirm that he actually DID.

In the same conversation, John says, "This was all different before we discovered the scientific principles," which I think is also worth noting. The fact that he understands NOW how you could get an embryo to grow into a necromancer doesn't mean that he had that knowledge at the time of the Resurrection. It also doesn't mean that the same identical process would apply to making formerly-dead-people into necromancers as they got brought back to life.

It could very well be that necromancy was a generalised side-effect of the Resurrection that affected some people more than others; or it could be that John DID do something different when bringing back some people that conferred them necromantic aptitude. Even if it's the latter, I don't think we can take for granted that 1) it was intentional and 2) he fully knew what the side effects would be.

» Ulysses and Titania. Counterpoint! It's also worth noting that John's "test cases" turned out to be one (1) adept and one (1) non-adept. Like I said above, this could still be a random bi-product of the Resurrection... but given Ulysses and Titania's whole everything, their dichotomy reeks of control group. They are a big point in favour of the "John did it on purpose" column.

Still: I still don't think we can tell for sure that John knew from the moment of Resurrection that he was giving some people death powers, and how that'd turn out in the long run. Like I said above, he could have done something different when resurrecting Ulysses vs. Titania, but it doesn't mean that he knew what would happen.

(Obviously, this argument only makes sense if we assume that Ulysses and Titania were among the very first batch of resurrected. I personally think they were, but obviously it's not confirmed)

» The inner circle. From NtN

I could only trust the inner circle. My scientists, my engineer, my detective, my lawyer, my artist, my nun, my hedge fund manager. My diehards. The ones keeping the lights on.

Putting aside the fact that Lyctors exist the way they are because Tamsyn needed them to exist, and looking at the Canaan House necro/cav pairings from John's point of view: why not give ALL his friends magical powers? That's something I struggle to wrap my head around, for about half a dozen different reasons.

Mind, I don't think John picking and choosing who gets to be a necromancer is that far-fetched, but from a #character point I find it less likely than the alternative (he didn't do it on purpose but turned it to his own advantage). IF it turns out to be canon, I'd be really curious about what the watsonian reasoning for it, beyond "this needed to happen."

Most meta posts I've seen that take for granted John picked and chose his future necromancers ascribe him a level of foresight, knowledge, and long-term planning that I simply don't think he'd have had at the time (not to mention the mental lucidity). To quote HtN John again, "[he] had never been God" before. I truly think he was winging it at least 60% of the time.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 7th of March, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 7th of March, 2024

Question: Are there any plans for a Regency, official or unofficial, to take place this year?

Note: This reading was done with all the cards upright, i.e. there are no reversals

Interpretation: The King and the Queen do not want a regency.

Card One: The Four of Pentacles

This is a card of holding on tightly to what you have, and that is exactly the energy I am getting from it. King Charles - the energy is masculine, so I am assuming it is the King's - King Charles is hanging on to his position and power with everything he has. He does not want to give up one iota of the Kingship and its duties to anyone else (except his wife), and the energy of that position is rock-firm and rigid in its stubbornness. Even if handing over some of his duties would be better for him, the King is not going to do it.

The picture on the card shows the craftsman Daedalus looking at his nephew. His nephew as more talented than Daedalus was, and Daedalus was both envious (wanting the talent his nephew had) and jealous (fearing that his nephew would take the success and reputation that Daedalus had from him). It is quite likely that the King has similar feelings towards his heir - affection for a family member combined with feeling of envy and/or jealousy, and this is part of the reason that the King is so opposed to a regency.

Note: AFAIK, under British law, if a regency is declared because of the incapacity f the King, for whatever reason (illness etc), then the regent has to be the heir. This is prescribed by law and the King can not say I want X as my regent and have it happen; the regent has to be his heir.

Card Two: The Queen of Pentacles

One of the meaning of the Queen of Pentacles is the good wife, and this is the energy that is coming from this card. The energy of this card is that of Queen Camilla, who is supporting her husband in his desire to not have a regency or any form of support from his heir while he, the King, is ill. In this they are of one mind. The Queen is determined that any power put down by the King will go to her and not to his heir. The energy is telling me that the Queen views any power given to the heir as a weakening of her position, and she is trying to make herself impregnable and unassailable (I was going to type 'as strong as possible' when the other words appeared in my mind out of nowhere). If I am reading the energy correctly, she seems to fear the heir and what he will do when he comes into power, so she is trying to get as much as she can for herself while she can.

As The Queen is coming through as the Queen of Pentacles, there may very well be money and status issues involved here (i.e. Pentacles things) - things that have not been put into law and that would be completely disrupted if Prince William were to come to power.

Tangent: I did a one card reading before this one that I wasn't going to write up, and I asked if Queen Camilla wanted her son to follow her as King, just to try and get some sort of idea about her thoughts and motives, and knowing that this was impossible as the line of succession is fixed by law. I was shocked to draw The Six of Wands, the success card, as the answer to my question, because that said yes, the Queen would like to have her son as King after her and not Prince William (i repeat, it is impossible to do this, so we are talking about wishes, not something that can come true). Combining that card and the above energy, I think that the Queen would feel far safer and more secure if her own blood was the heir instead of Prince William. She is really frightened about what Prince William will do when he is in power, and she does not like how popular Prince William is with the public at all.

Another thing to note is that I am not getting any sense of duty towards the country from the Queen (or the King). The energy from the Queen is very much wanting to be comfortable and do what she wants, and trying to arrange things so this will happen and will continue after her husband's death, and that is it. There is no concern for the affect of her actions on the country; she is not even thinking about that and her attitude seems to be 'oh well, they can fix up the mess after I'm dead'. Her concern is focused on herself first and her family and husband second, and that is it.

Card Three: The Page of Swords

Pages are messages, and swords are thoughts/strategy/communications. This card is giving me the energy of social media and the internet - electronic communications. As we have seen, the King and the Queen are putting out a message of 'Everything is fine, no need for extra help, the King can still do his job and if he can't the Queen can do it for him'. That is the message that they want to go out to the world. Whether it is actually the truth is another matter entirely (Swords can be about strategies, and people lie to other people as part of a strategy all the time - also, King Charles has past form in lying to the general public to get what he wants). The last thing the King or Queen want is pressure from the public to have Prince William take over some of the duties of the monarchy to help out his father.

Underlying Energy: The Three of Wands

This is my card for the line of succession, the transfer of power within the BRF, regencies, and so on. Having it as an underlying energy confirms that the above cards are all about power and the transfer of power within the BRF.

The card shows Jason's uncle giving his crown to Jason, i.e. acknowledging Jason as the true king, but then the uncle sends Jason off to find the Golden Fleece, hoping he will be killed along the way. This tells me that even if King Charles does make a show of handing some functions over to his heir, there will be a trap involved and Prince William will be set up to fail if he takes on the offered duties.

This card is also giving me courtier vibes - King Charles and Queen Camilla may be fighting off the idea of a regency/handing over any of the monarch's duties to the heir, but I would not be surprised if the courtiers have plans in place for both an official regency and an unofficial transfer of power behind the scenes.

Conclusion:

King Charles does not want a regency in any way, shape, or form. Neither does he want to give up any of his powers to his heir, even for a temporary period while he recovers his health, although he has no problem sharing his powers with the Queen. The Queen is 100% behind him; he has all of her support on this matter.

Both of them seem to be driven in part or in whole by negative emotions towards the idea of Prince William in power - envy and/or jealousy on the part of the King, and fear on the part of the Queen (I can feel her fear as I write this. I can not stress this strongly enough - she is terrified of Prince William having any Kingly powers).

This determination to hold on to the position and power of the monarch is what is behind the PR that says the King is fine, he is working from home, the Queen is a great support to him etc.

While the King and the Queen are refusing to even discuss the issues, the courtiers may have quiet plans of their own - just in case.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Thanks to your support, I am so committed to this. When I finish this, I plan to make it into a long, proper, one-shot- better format and everything!

I've been doing these chapters in the middle of work lmao, so if you see a typo or some edits, it's me rereading it after work.

I'm trying to include more Alastor but he's pretty hard to write.

I used Velvette so much here cos I love her as that bitch you love to hate. She is obviously the spokesperson of the Vees

---------------------------------------------

The hotel lobby is filled with unbearable silence as hell's overlords and high members of the Ars Goetia arrive one by one.

Just a few hours ago, Alastor heard from Carmila Carmine that the king had called a meeting for the top ruling people of hell. Charlie doesn't know why her dad called for it in the hotel.

The Ars Goetia (minus Stolas) were whispering among themselves and shooting the sinner overlords dirty looks every now and again. The overlords were good at pretending they couldn't hear anything. Apparently, they at least have the sense to know that that would be a fight they cannot win.

The hotel's residents collectively claimed it as their spot. Husk is talking with Angel quietly, keeping him distracted and out of view of Valentino, Vaggie is holding her spear as she keeps a close eye on the strangers in their home, Nifty is obsessively cleaning a corner of the bar (Husk keeps telling her that it is still dirty just so she won't venture elsewhere), and Cherri is playing with an unlit bomb in her hand.

Rosie and Stolas decided to approach Charlie and Alastor at the bar at the same time, both slightly bowed to her.

Charlie: Prince Stolas. Rosie.

Stolas: Hello, princess.

Charlie: How's Octavia?

Stolas: Via misses your outings together. But she is fine. She's with her mother today.

Rosie: Not that I'm not happy to see ya, Alastor. But why exactly are we here? Our Carmila has not stated a reason why.

Alastor: You know as much as me, my dear.

Stolas: It must be dire. His majesty rarely calls for the Goetia's presence. He is not here yet?

Charlie: No. He went down in Sloth earlier. I'm worried. After what happened yesterday, I..

Rosie: Yesterday? Did something happen, sweetie?

Charlie realizes the slip up and backtracks.

Charlie: Nothing, Rosie!

Rosie gives her a look that tells her they're going to be talking about it later. She gives the overlord a weak thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Velvette decides enough is enough and they have wasted too much time waiting.

Velvette: Ugh! Vois, let's go. This is a fuckin' joke.

Carmila: Velvette, calm yourself.

Valentino: Why should she? I had very important shit to shoot today and me being here is making me lose money.

Alastor: Then perhaps you should step down. Having to attend the bare minimum duty of their title must be so difficult for someone so... undeserving.

The Radio Demon has a giant patronizing grin plastered on his face. Alastor's comment prompted Vox to speak up.

Vox: Oh, you timely piece of shit! Fight us right now, Alastor!

Alastor: How unbecoming. Throwing tantrums in front of royalty!

Velvette: I for one, don't want to sit here waiting for a no-show fossil

Charlie's demon side flares as the demon insults her dad.

Charlie: How fucking dare you?!

Random Goetia: You shall know better than to disrespect your king, insolent pest.

Velvette: Ha! You think we're scared of a bunch of birds?

Alastor: Should have known you three cannot behave for a simple meeting haha!

Soon everyone was yelling obscenities at each other, filling the hotel with chaos. Before a proper fight could break out, the door opens with a bang, silencing every demon.

Lucifer has arrived, following him were the other Sins. They were arguing amongst themselves from behind him. Charlie can only catch glimpses of what is being said as voices overlap each other.

Beelzebub: Bel-

Mammon: Are you fuckin-

Satan: Wrath is-

Leviathan: We cannot-

Asmodeus: Evacuation-

Belphegor: Grown another mile-

Lucifer says nothing the entire time and just takes a seat in the middle of the semi-circle table he conjured up. With the way the table was placed in front of everyone else, Charlie gets the feeling of deja vu of her hearing in heaven. But now her dad will be the one passing judgment.

Most of the sinners in the room back up as the Sins continue to argue with their full form.

Lucifer sits back and raises a hand and the yelling stops.

Back then, she never really understood why demons were afraid of her dad. He was always a silly and happy guy when spending time with her. But one time, she sneaks into his rare meetings with the Sins and sees why he was called the devil.

The anger she saw then could have given her Uncle Satan a run for Uncle Mammon's money.

Lucifer: Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I will cut to the chase. I have called you all here because something is brewing at the very depths of hell. Something that may affect us all.

Stolas: The Ars Goetia is at your disposal, sire. But may I ask what is this about?

Belphegor: I can answer that. A few months ago, an anomaly appeared at the edge of Sloth. It was not a problem until-

She pressed her touchpad and a hologram screen appeared showing the infected ground.

Not a single demon didn't widen their eyes.

Angel: What the fuck is that?

Belphegor: We wouldn't have called you all here if it was not this severe.

She taps and shows a mutilated demon pig.

Belphegor: This is Patient Zero. An animal on a nearby farm made contact with the anomaly. It instantly infected the whole body, controlling the creature whilst killing it slowly. If it can affect an animal like this, we fear what it may do to-

Velvette: And what do you expect us to do about it exactly? Why the fuck would we care about some old place we can't even go to.

Belphegor is briefly stunned by the interruption but ignores the sinner's disrespect.

Belphegor: Because you would have to be naive to think that it will stop in Sloth. We cannot be too careful.

Velvette: So you think we would risk our lives? Yeah. No thanks. How do we even know that it will affect us? It's just a pig. The worst we can get is horrible floor decor.

Lucifer stands up and moves silently towards the middle for everyone to see.

Lucifer: Free will does not mean you are free from consequences.

The king starts to remove his shirt to everyone's panic, except Belphegor.

Mammon: Woah woah, mate. The fuck ya doin?

Lucifer shrugs off the last piece of clothing to reveal the glowing, infected marks. It has not been a day since he touched it but the veins are already covering the entire right half of his torso.

Charlie: Dad!

The princess attempts to go to her father's side but Vaggie holds her back.

Lucifer: Shall we proceed without any more interruptions?

---------------------------------------------

What to look forward to in Part 5:

the rest of the meeting

more dialogue from the other Sins. Cannot decide what personality to give to Leviathan.

My HC for Satan is he's like one of those old butler types but has a jacked body (I know he has that workout app, but I'm leaning more of the liver king type of a gentle strongman with anger issues. I don't want him to be a fuckboy gymbro)

more badass lucifer

the Vees getting scolded like the children they are

[xierrot]

ARCANE 2 SPOILERS who's the best arcane character and why it's jayce talis (may be a bit biased. and my head is a mess rn so some of my wording may not make a sense)

cw there's a load siren sound in the video

arcane focuses on humans' flaws. like half of shit happened bc someone couldn't talk it out. and that's part of human nature too. things that seem rather logical to one may be impossible for another bc of the way they feel and see this world. and all characters in arcane have their own strong beliefs.

even jayce who seems to be easily manipulated. jayce is in fact one if not the most alive, humane character of them all.

firstly. what is the core of his character? it's his desire to help people with the use of magic. bc it once saved him and his mother and he fell in love with it so hard he made trying to bend it to his will the point of his life. he was misunderstood and alone in this desire but he did not give a fuck as long as his dream lived.

and then he failed. he didn't actually bc yk explosion at his lab is not his fault but everyone even his mother looked down on him at that trial bc of his dream. and they took it away. took away his point of life. so he was almost ready to end it (he was about to jump but hesitated a bit. that's in humans' nature too: many suicide attempts fail bc ppl are naturally afraid of what comes after it. and it's something completely impulsive and irrational). but that's where viktor came up and he saved his life. not by stopping him from that jump but by sparkling some hope in him saying that he has a desire too. and jayce is finally understood and not alone. and they completed each other.

later jayce became the poster boy. it's not what he wanted. but he's in fact way less experienced with social interactions and is not that good at reading people as viktor (viktor is good with social interactions. i believe he's even more confident than jayce to give a speech. yk viktor's ambitious enough to be heimer's personal assistant and even tho he didn't give that much credit i think not everyone can pull off being councilor's personal assistant like you have to present him. and with jayce viktor could be like "nah go give those speeches yourself idgaf" bc he could finally focus on what he wants to do) so he's manipulated into becoming a symbol. piltover's talisman. and mel said to him that it can be used as an instrument. and that made him realize he finally had enough power to say "fuck you" to those who looked down upon him.

so he did. but he's a scientist not a politician so his attitude worked against him. he decided to fight corruption being a part of corrupted system. ofc that led to no good. he had tried council's ways too with mel's help but when he realized that it created distance between him and his desire and viktor. and he stated several times that he's not cut for this politician shit. he only did it because he believed he could make things better. that he could help viktor that way. bc viktor became part of his desire that lies in his core. and he did everything out of this desire. he can be easily manipulated but you can't change it, only use it to farther manipulate him. change his view on some ways but not change his core.

and in s2 jayce has not changed. his character is exactly the same as he was in season 1. like he even does the same things: agreeing with viktor that they should not weaponize hextech but then doing so under pressure (manipulated again using his desire to make things better). he did it in s1, and he did it again in s2. and he said that he never wanted to be part of politics to mel in s1 and said it again to viktor in s2. and jayce cared for viktor in s1 as much as he did in s2. it's just that yk of course you would be much more stressed and caring if your friend's HALF-DEAD not just dying slowly where therapy could help like you hold the body of someone who's close to you and there was actually no way of saving viktor like legally and ethically. ofc jayce looked more worried but it's still in his character. he actually acted pretty the same when viktor was at the hospital in s1 but we didn't get much screentime of it and in s2 it's shown more.

and by saving viktor with hexcore he fulfills his main desire. by destroying him he does so too. and these are two things he did without any pressure or manipulations. these things are jayce's own decisions from tip to toe, from inside out. he saved viktor with hexcore out of his desire to help ppl by bending magic to humans' will. and he killed viktor out of his desire to help him (god knows how much willpower i have not to put "love" instead of "his desire to help him"). he kept saying "i won't fail" not only bc he probably time and space travelled and tried to kill viktor many times but because he failed viktor several times trying to fulfill his desires.

so overall jayce is trapped in cycle of trying to fulfill his desire and failing miserably in doing so and then trying to fix things out of this desire again and again. bc that's his core. and it's incredibly humane. (and he needs viktor to ground him as much as viktor needs him). everyone in arcane is fucked up. while some embrace it jayce tries to fight. showing duality of humans' nature. but of course no one gives a fuck to understand him. as did council in s1 act1..)

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I LOVED what you wrote for the dutch's daughter!reader fic. I know you said you wanted a bit of variety in the requests, so you can ignore this one for a little while if you want. Would you be able to expand on their relationship a bit more, and maybe do a scenario where the reader is washing up away from camp, perhaps at Flat Iron Lake (when they moved camp to Clemen's Point) in the evening, and Arthur "stumbles" upon her (he was lowkey watching her), joins her, and fucks her whilst suspended in the water. After they finish, he has to duck down behind her because Dutch walks up to check on her since she was taking a long time, and they nearly get caught.

Getting caught stirred Arthur on more, and after Dutch walks off, he has to take her again because he has such an adrenaline rush :)'''

The Passion Of Lovers (Part 2)

(Arthur Morgan x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

Warnings: smut

In spite of your father’s imperiousness, you sought cracked pleasures. There was only so much contentment money could bring, and your other needs began to come into question. Being surveilled in camp 24/7 turned you into quite the sly individual, that combined with the fact that you were Dutch’s daughter, and you could witness firsthand his own connivingness. You in turn became very skilled at sneaking and lying; an inherited sixth sense that would backfire on Dutch time and time again. Your humor attracted the lucky bad type, never quite breaking your heart in the process. You were meticulously careful in all your sordid affairs, making sure your father knew not too much; and knew exactly what you wanted him to know. Though you never did view your relationship with Arthur as something to be ashamed of or worth hiding; in fact, the chances of anyone else in camp besides your father finding your relationship to be disreputable were extremely low. But the two of you were smart enough to know that if you had decided to confide in your most trusted peers, it would somehow, inevitably get back to Dutch. 

You didn’t even want to ponder on the possibility of what would happen if your father found out. There’d be a strange rift in camp; like a burdensome wrinkle that you can’t quite iron out no matter how many times you go over it, no matter how much heat you apply. The tension would be palpable; would Dutch argue with Arthur? Would he force him to break up with you? If so, would he change his mind once he saw how ruined you were because of it? Part of you felt a sick satisfaction out of imagining your father’s guilty face once he saw how heartbroken you were. A pleasure in pain. 

Your mornings begun fairly early; you’d awake at around 5 AM, a feverish anticipation for the day stirring in your joints as you became restless, giggling quietly to yourself as to not wake your father, as you imagined yourself venturing off into town with Arthur in an impromptu date, or sneaking a kiss or two just outside camp out of the view of any watch guards. Subtly pushing up against one another, blowing each other's circuitry while disguising it with the confusion of blithe laughter and small talk funneled into each other's ears with moist, anticipatory lips. Of course, before drawing any suspicion to yourselves, you’d look off to the side with an idle stare that suggested nothing was happening between you two, that this was entirely casual, that neither of you had meant to have you press your ass up against Arthur’s eager crotch while hurriedly passing each other in a cramped area. 

Perhaps your flirtations over time had become imprudent. Caring less and less about keeping them away from camp, finding some sort of exhilaration in the risk that came with doing so in such a widely observable area. Your coquetry bordering on the edge of just enough to keep it safe and fun, and pushing the boundaries of what would fly under Dutch’s radar. 

Though like many of your mornings, you began your day by heading towards the campfire to eat some stew. You’d then indulge in a cup of coffee, sipping the drink with an eerie smile on your face while you stared off over Flatiron Lake, something no one would comment on out of politeness. If chance allowed it, you’d sneak over to Arthur’s tent and share a few hurried kisses before anyone else awoke. Though whilst the morning was still breaking in from night, you’d venture into the lake for a quick bath in preparation for the day’s events. You used only the most expensive shampoos and fragrances which you’d use modestly; the scents potent enough for them to last throughout the day. You had hoped the fragrance would absorb into your skin, wanting to smell as though you were some readily edible treat. A treat that Arthur could merely observe behind a viewing glass as long as the two of you were in camp; and if he so much as dared to reach for the confection, his wrist would be slapped away hastily. 

You dressed yourself with some of the finest clothing you had picked out yourself provided your father’s money, and by the time you returned to camp from the lake, more than half the camp was bustling with life. You’d greet each member in passing, careful not to put too much interest in your greeting towards Arthur as you stood next to him by the campfire.

“I’m going into town today? Ride with me?” Your question was innocent enough, but the corners of your mouth twitched at the innuendos underlining it. ‘Of course, I ALWAYS wanna ride.’ seemed to be a shared thought between the two of you as you both took a moment to clear your throats. 

“Of course, (Name). What errands you running today?” He’d ask. 

You’d shrug nonchalantly, unsure of what tribute to your sizable allowance you’d buy this time. “Was thinking of some clothes. Nothing specific in mind but I just wanna look around.” You disguised your burgeoning smile by sipping another mug of coffee you had poured yourself. Arthur nodded before looking off pensively, as if he were going through some mental archive he had of all the clothes he wanted to see you in. 

It was routine to walk towards your father’s tent, to inform him of your departure from camp for a few hours to do some errands, and without looking up from whatever book he was engrossed in, unable to see your excitement, he’d beckon Arthur forth, instructing him to accompany you into town. It was only then that he’d look up at Arthur with a threatening gaze, telling him to take good care of you.

And good care he took of you. You weren’t made aware of any leering gazes, as Arthur had effectively scared any men off. He held your arm as you walked, whispering the occasional compliment about how amazing you looked. He’d bury his head in your hair, taking in deep inhales as he reveled in the fragrant scent and softness of your hair. 

The occasional stray touch would indicate your excitement; a hand sliding too far up one another’s thighs as if in search of the pulsing heat the other longed for. You and Arthur appraised how well a clothing piece would compliment you. A sensually inquisitive hand would adjust your collar, lingering on your pulse before pulling away, a small brushing of your breast preceding a more firm squeeze, a hand on your back that would impishly slide down to the curve of your ass before delivering a playful spank or clutch. 

By the time you two returned to camp, you were concupiscent, at the boiling points of your arousal. Before entering the path towards camp the two of you would swap saliva, hungry tongues exploring as you groped each other ardently. Sometimes coitus was not an option on the table, restrained by the limits of time and curfews. You two would adopt the facade of friends well acquainted simply returning from a day out on the town; walking into camp while your bodies were still in stages of lingering arousal. From where you stood next to Arthur, you’d be able to watch as Arthur gingerly ran his exposed palm over himself and adjusted his pants, his shame and caution taking control over his half-inflated genitals. 

You’d continue the rest of your day with chronic arousal, briefly glancing over towards Arthur and granting him a knowing gaze. It said ‘I know you’re dying to touch me right now, and you’ll be able to soon.’ 

You’d set down whatever book you were reading, gathering your night garbs and expensive soaps and lotions before heading off towards an isolated part of the lake for your second bath of the day; an inviting air surrounding you. Arthur would perk up in his cot, as if someone had suddenly called his name with unbridled urgency. Before long he’d feel excitement stirring in his loins at the thought of watching you bathe, and would feign composure as he sat up in his cot, accentuating just how ‘non-excited’ he was by stretching out his limbs and sighing, before hurriedly walking off towards the woods bordering the lake. He’d loop around the path to make sure no one was watching him, whistling for his horse so no one would question his whereabouts without his horse to follow. He’d tie his steed to a tree trunk, before venturing into the trees himself. 

He saw the horizon over the lake, the sky tinged with lavender and dark purple as day transitioned to night. His eyes scanned the lake desperately for signs of your body. He walked along the edge of the woods, eventually spotting your pile of clothes left on a boulder. He traced his eyes up from the pile and towards the lake, where he saw your naked body contrasting against the darkness of the water and the sky. The water blocked him from viewing your pelvis or legs, but your breasts and hardened nipples were in full view, gleaming from the moonlight shining on them. Arthur leaned his back on a nearby tree, as if he were getting comfortable for a show he had traveled various lengths for, finally able to enjoy what he came for. 

He watched as you clutched the slippery bar of pink soap in your hand, lathing it over your skin with careful precision as to not drop the bar. As if you were reading Arthur’s mind, you smeared the bar over and in between your breasts, glazing your skin in a soapy film before taking your hands and frothing the suds. You ran your hands down your sides sensually, lifting your legs from the water to lather the skin there too. As you did so, your crotch came into view. Arthur’s chest heaved in excitement, and he began palming his cock through the front of his jeans. The applied pressure caused him to groan silently, and his hands gained a mind of their own as he began unbuckling his belt and undoing the front of his jeans. 

Before he could pull his cock out, he made eye contact with you; and rather than being chastised and branded a creep for watching you, you giggled and turned to face him fully from the water. 

“Hey, Arthur!” You called from the water. You waved your hands towards you, motioning for him to come to you. “Get in! Water feels real nice!” You waved the soap bar in the air now, suggesting you could give him a cleaning of his own; a cleaning that would more than likely turn into something more. 

He held the demeanor of a kid flying down the stairs of his two story home on christmas morning, bee lining towards the gifts under the tree. He stood next to the boulder where your clothes lay, depositing the fabrics hastily behind the rock out of view in the possibility that someone stumbles across you two. You licked your lips in excitement as you watched him undress, drinking in every detail of his body and making a special note of his half erect cock. He dipped his body below the water’s surface to begin soaking his body in preparation for your cleaning. You took him in with open arms, feeling the way his chest vibrated in a satisfied hum as he felt your soapy breasts up against his torso.

“Were you watching meee?” You drew out the syllable playfully, playing with the hair on his chest as you looked up at him. His arms slid under yours and around your waist with ease, pulling you impossibly closer against him. He reveled in the way your breasts pressed and slid against him, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. 

“Maybe.” He responded humorously. 

“Do you want me to clean you?” You raised the bar into view again, waving it. 

“As long as you’re touching me, I don’t care what you do woman.” He gave your ass a playful spank as you dipped the bar into the lake water, rubbing your hand on it in a way that made Arthur’s cock twitch once again. Once you produced enough suds, you began rubbing it all over Arthur’s chest and shoulders, working the foam into his skin in hopes he’d smell as good as you. Arthur hummed in delight, thinking nonchalantly about what excuse he’d use when asked why he smelled like you, and he’d claim he had treated himself to some soap, and in his ignorance for what was best, trusted your judgment and ended up buying the same one as you. 

You arms massaged his firm muscles in the process, squeezing before moving onto the next fiber group. Your hands moved around towards his back, in awe of the expansive size of his wide set shoulders and formed rhomboid, which you took extra care in massaging. He groaned in satisfaction as your lithe hands pressed against him, and before long you dropped all innocent pretenses, handing the bar of soap to him before gripping the base of his cock, giving it a firm squeeze before stroking it vigorously. Arthur released a sigh of satisfaction, tipping his head back as a string of moans and curses followed. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” You confessed, eyes trained on the way the tip of his cock bobbed with each movement. Your right arm rose and fell in repetitive motions, tugging against his crotch. 

"Fuck… what if your dad catches us?" Arthur groaned, leaning his pelvis towards you as if you were pulling him along by his cock. Your dad. The way Arthur referred to him not by Dutch but as your dad added a layer of scandalousness to the situation that made it all the more better. 

"Well then, you hide." You answered bluntly, stopping to smother his tip with your thumb. Arthur discarded the thought, lathering up his hands before cupping your breasts and rubbing them thoroughly. The suds sat on your breasts irresistibly, some of them sliding down over the curves and onto the rest of your body. The skin became equally as slippery, and made the movement of your breasts against one another effortless as Arthur pressed them against one another. He ran his thumbs over your nipples in fascination, delivering the occasional slap before going back to squeezing them. 

The display was theatrical for Arthur, but you soon grew far too needy. Not to mention the growing urgency of time restraints; your father's apprehensiveness over your well being when you took too long to do certain things drove him to look for you, and even during something as intimate as a bath, he found more reason to search for you given your vulnerable state. 

Reaching down you used your fingers to guide his cock into you, making it past the awkward rubbery stage of submerged penetration. All your worries melted away as Arthur speared you on his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck as he bounced you on his pelvis. You threw your heard back in a wanton moan, noticing the beginning of a smattering of stars, but your whole world was soon reduced to hisses and moans, the water of the lake responsive to each thrust, lapping away at your thighs.

You opted to wrapping your legs around Arthur's torso, his hands coming to instinctively cup your ass as he held you up. The movements were hurried, desperate; as though some worldly force would come and ruin this moment for you. You dragged your nails along Arthur back, thin ribbons of blood blossoming forth and leaving a stinging sensation behind for Arthur to revel in. With Arthur supporting your whole weight within his hands and firearms, it allowed you to unwrap your arms from around him and theatrically play with your breasts, making a show of the slippery wet mounds of flesh. 

Before long, you came on Arthur's cock, your juices mixing with the lake water. You had to bite down on your thumb to contain any squeals or moans, bracing yourself for Arthur's own release. He gave you a warning grunt, stilling as he emptied himself inside you in a few deep thrusts. As Arthur slid you off and helped you onto your feet, you groaned in satisfaction. Your crotch was a pool of spent pleasure; the slow drip of Arthur's fluid leaving your body feeling like a deep ache inside you that had finally been remedied. 

"That was fun." You giggled, leaning up to kiss him. The two of you remained there, bathed in moonlight, sharing a few tender kisses and forgetting yourselves; and the time. 

"(Name)!" 

"Shit." You whispered between teeth. You allowed each other a moment of shared disbelief; Arthur looking down at you in horror before jumping into action. You dunked him beneath the water behind you, the increasingly nearing sound of leaves and sticks crunching urging you on. You hoped to God Arthur's lung capacity would be in your favor. You yourself had to lower yourself to neck level to avoid having your father look at you stark naked. Thankfully, as he emerged from the woods, he allowed you the decency of shielding his eyes, only daring occasionally to look between the cracks in his fingers to ensure you were okay. 

"(Name)! There you are! Are you okay? You've uh.. certainly been taking your time today." He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the ground. You followed his eyes down to where they were on the floor, and a cold sense of panic rattled within your rib cage as you realized some of Arthur's clothes were peeking out from around the boulder where your clothes lay. 

"I'm okay, Daddy." You said reassuringly, hoping that would be enough for him to leave you alone. You felt a small tap on your calve, indicating Arthur's breath was running out. A sense of anxiety prickled at your skin in a way that made you restlessly snappy. 

"Alright well, stews ready. And I left a small gift for you by your tent, and—"

"Okay! Thank you Daddy! Now please let me finish." Your eye twitched in aggravation, thanking the Lord your father couldn't see your face. He bid you farewell, and you watched as his back disappeared into the woods. You waited a few more seconds until he was out of earshot, Arthur's tapping on your leg had now turned into a firm squeeze. You pulled Arthur up by the shoulders, feeling as though Arthur were sucking in a deep breath for the both of you. You both caught your breath, reveling in the success of your veiled debauchery. 

“I can’t believe we pulled that off!” You laughed breathlessly, slapping one of Arthur’s pectorals. He nodded and laughed along.

“If Dutch spoke any longer I would’ve drowned.” He took one last deep breath before evening out his breathing. “And uh… it was quite exciting.” 

You nodded, tracing your eyes down and noticing he was no longer flaccid, he was hard once again. The two of you exchanged sensuous glances, before Arthur gingerly slid his hands beneath your armpits and picked you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a kittenish moan at being penetrated again. The silence of the lake was loud again.

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The Passion Of Lovers - Bauhaus