#like i think when they say breath equals freedom. it also often means freedom for the author lol. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

telaraneas · 3 years ago

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What are your thoughts on the Sylph of Breath title? i'd love to see an analysis of it :)

ok so sylphs as i see them tend to be the ones who introduce their element to the story in an almost literal sense. basically everything we know about the matriorb and the mother grub is given to us exclusively in the context of kanaya's quest to preserve the species, which was in turn something she has always been in charge of and that she carries with her as a duty, and she functions as basically jade's tutorial for the frog making process, which is again the first time the audience hears of it

similarly aranea is basically a literal exposition fairy whole journal and later entire ass presence exists to introduce lore to the story, even to the point of breaking the golden rules of exposition- she sits there explaining things she already knows, and which the character she's talking to (meenah) ALSO already knows, for no discernible reason, other than because she wants to Give Exposition so bad that she will literally pay others to do so; later, she does her game over timeline bullshit in which she aggresively introduces a lot of information that had been obscured so far (what jake's powers actually do, what would and wouldn't count as just and heroic deaths since vriska's death scene dodged the question) but harnessed to get things to go her way in her big dumb plan

like, we are told sylphs are healers but imo their narrative function is as heralds and keepers of their element- kanaya's arc, introduced by her presence, centers around her duty to continue her species, and aranea's function in the story as concluded by her big proactive move is entirely for the benefit of bringing previously unknown things into certainty, and advancing a stagnant plot into a place of certainty (which IS what she meant to do, she just definitely didnt picture it going like it did lol. aranea's actions DID in fact heal the timeline, by putting it in a position where the ONLY WAY FORWARD was an eleventh hour powerup that escapes everything defined by the story so far, thus forcing John forward in his hero's journey. as a creature of pure function, aranea is successful, her personal downfall is trying to make herself out to be the hero)

...yeah sorry i just rambled about sylphs for a while there, i just realized i technically never elaborated on why i talk about sylphs like i do lol

anyways, like i rambled about before, breath is kind of the aspect of narrative contrivance. ive never really mentioned why im so certain of this other than john and tavros' arcs supporting that thesis, but well

wind/breeze/breath really HAS been consistently depicted as the aspect which almost literally embodies "the story bails you out via handwaves" and i do believe john's arc as a heir of breath consists of him being nurtured and carried by his element until the time comes when he must BECOME his element in service of everyone else as well as the story itself

all of that said, a sylph of breath is. when taken as a narrative function, someone who introduces narrative contrivance and mantains its presence, i can't help but think of it as being almost literally just a Deus Ex Machina character lol

i mean, as aranea showed, on a meta level sylphs have a ridiculous narrative power in that they can basically function as the conduit for an author to literally dump whatever element is necessary to keep the story going, and breath is often this same principle but applied in action; a sylph of breath can very well be a double whammy of Get Out Of Jail Free Card for the writer

note that i dont literally mean sylphs have metanarrative powers, i dont think anyone has actual literal metanarrative powers (...again disclaimer i havent read the epilogues and im not taking them into account), just that they can be the sort of character that the author can use as a conduit for a lot of problemsolving. like, characters dont literally introduce elements to the story, authors use characters to introduce elements to the story. aranea didnt literally create the cherub's lore, but her role in the story is such that it is from her mouth that we first hear it, and it is her nature that we never need to question where SHE learned it. in-universe she is repeating information that already existed, but on a meta sense she is being used to introduce information to the story that previously did not exist within it, and it's not a coincidence she is how we are introduced to the existence of the ancestors into the story both as mindfang and in the dreambubbles.

the ones who get the closest to awareness of the narrative conventions they represent are, fittingly enough, light players, and even they seem more than content to just play their role out (the only hiccups being when their role turns out not to be what they thought it was)

breath tends to break the rules tho so like. im just saying. if there was ever a character whose introduction broke the percieved rules of a story so hard that the entire perception of that story's mechanics has to retroactively change to acommodate for it, it would probably be a sylph of breath? lmao

#like i think when they say breath equals freedom. it also often means freedom for the author lol.#anyways this post really got away from me and im sorry #homestuck #classpect analysis #sushi original

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saturnsstufff · 4 years ago

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The Empress Pt.VI

I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤

Warnings: light hint to sexual innuendo, Swearing

Its been about a couple of months now since we found Tommy. The palace was up in a baby craze due to the new little prince they inherited. Once we got past the first couple week's of tommy living with us, we saw his true nature. He was a nice and sweet kid, don't get me wrong. But oh, he was also a trouble maker.

Tommy would often bounce between hanging around Wilbur, Techno, Phil and even you. When you would be working at the forge Tommy would sometimes just slip in unannounced and make himself comfortable on a spare stack of metal. You'd only really notice him when he would ask you what something was, or what it did.

That was the new update as well. After returning Techno had requested that you practice making earrings. Saying that he wanted to see how dainty you could work. Of course you didn't mind, back at your village you would often make rings, pendants, and sometimes earrings for those who asked. So making him a earring was no fuss at all.

Techno did start to wonder around to the forge often. usually seeing what you were making or what you were in the process of. Sometimes he would even make off hand comments to make you laugh. Your favorite visit’s from him were always when he would bring tommy. The two would walk in, Tommy holding Techno’s finger as his hand was a little too big for the young boy to fully grasp.

Since you were a familiar face around the palace Techno had stopped wearing his Skull. Instead replacing it with his all to familiar golden reading glasses. You still stood by the ideal that you preferred him with no skull. Since he was, to you, very handsome. You did find out later that the skull he wore was for outsiders. He didn't feel the need to show his face to those who wouldn't be present very long in the empire. Choosing instead to leave them with the impression that he was a monster of a man, rather than a young prince with a heart of gold. When you say he had a heart of gold, you meant it.

Recently techno has really opened up around you, becoming more relaxed in your presence. Phil had mentioned that it would only be a matter of time before he did, and sure enough he was right. If you didn't have anything to do with the forge that day you would sometimes read within his office well he worked. He never made tones of disagreement, or ask that you leave, instead he would just watch you sit before offering a ‘Hello’. It had become something that you often looked forward too.

You and Wil were still thick as thieves. Techno would rag on Wil about how you two could sit and talk for hours, before declaring that you were bored with each other. Only for you two to part then reconcile in the library a hour later. Techno couldn't understand it, but in the end just accepted it for what it was.

You had just finished cleaning up the forge for the night when you herd some light pitter patter of feet. Tommy. You slowly turned to face him. He was in his night wear, obviously he had just gotten out of bed. he looked distraught however. ��What’s up bud?” you asked, putting the tongs and the spare metal away. He slightly shifted in his spot, his little teddy bear behind him.

“I had a nightmare” he quietly mumbled. your eyes softened. Ever since you three found him he would have a recurring nightmare about ‘loosing my new family’ as tommy put it. Usually when he had this dream he would seek Techno, or you out for his comfort. Since you two were mostly together when he would look.

“Want me to read to you?” you asked, kneeling down to his level. His bright blue eyes dancing about. He gave a little nod. he put his arms out for you to carry him. you shyly smiled at him.

“buddy I'm a bit dirty...” You said softly, unsure if he was ok with getting dirty right before bed. He only shook his head and said ‘I don't mind’ as a response. So you gently took him into your arms as you stood. He didn't hesitate to curl into your neck. you glanced back at the room that held the forge, you mentally shrugged figuring the rest could wait until tomorrow. With Tommy in your arms you wondered out, heading for his room. On the way there Techno crossed path’s with you.

“Oh (y/n)” he said as he looked from you to tommy. he furrowed his brows, asking what was wrong without physically saying it. You mouthed out that it was a nightmare, Techno slowly nodded understanding. He rested is hand on tommy’s head giving a reassuring rub to it. “Not havin’ such a good night big man?” he asked gently. Tommy turned his head to look at Techno, slowly shaking his head. Techno pondered a moment as he watched tommy. slowly he gained a idea. “You wanna hear somthin’ cool?” he said with a small smile. tommy nodded in response, gripping to your shirt.

“Can (y/n) come?” Tommy asked quietly, watching Techno's kind eyes. Techno patted Tommy’s head before he nodded.

“Yeah I mean, I guess she can come. Only if you deem her cool enough that is” Techno mused, glancing to your eyes. you raised a brow in question, watching Techno bite back a playful smile. Tommy nodded again. “You think she’s cool enough?” Techno asked Tommy, having him confirm his nod. “Yeah I think she’s cool enough too” He said, ruffling your hair before he walked off. queuing you to fallow him. You smiled and fixed your hair before fallowing him. Instead of leading you towards Tommy’s room, he lead you two to the Library. “Go sit on the couch over there” Techno said, pointing to the sofa closest to the fire. You nodded and wondered over, curious of what Techno had planned.

when you sat, you adjusted tommy so he sat in your lap. he pulled his bear close to his chest, hugging it tightly well the two of you waited for Techno. Luckily he didn't take long. When he returned, he had a Violin in hand. He was casually tuning it well he walked. You tiled your head curiously at him. “I didn't know you played” you said to him. He sent a bemused smile to you. taking a relaxed stance.

“Trust me Princess... There's a lot you don't know about me” He waisted no time on starting a soft tune. Well Tommy eased into you, slowly becoming entranced with the peaceful notes, you became more interested in how he swayed to the light swing of his arms. His hands ever so delate as he held the bow, dancing it along the strings. working the instrument to cry out a melody ever so sweet. His face was that of concentration, focused on finding the proper notes to lull his younger sibling to sleep. This was just another reason why you found Technoblade so interesting. He could talk politics and war strategies so easily, sounding like a primed veteran well past his years. But then he could retire to the library and look like a young boy falling in love with the craft he just found.

Well Techno played away, his eyes fell to you. Tommy had fallen asleep in your arms, finding security within them. His teddy bear tightly locked within his own arms. When he glanced up to you he almost had the breath knocked from his lungs. You sat so beautifully. Your eyes were ever so soft well watching him. You looked at him like he was the most important thing you had ever seen. Your face held a little bit of dirt, and ash from the hard work you did for the day, but he didn't mind. He actually preferred it. Too many times had the Court tried to set him up with a prim, and proper woman. One that was elegant, clean, pure, dainty. But He didn't want that. He wanted strong, hands calloused, smudged makeup, sweat dripping, imperfect, but yet somehow at the same time, perfect. He wanted flaw. He wasn't perfect, he had scars, he wasn't the most handsome boy, he was often classified as too bulky, and too tall. He also couldn't be held back with someone who wanted him, to pamper and please. He wanted someone who would treat him as a equal, who praised his knowledge on war instead of shunning it. Someone who embraced the flaws of the world, and turned them into works of art. His eyes wondered back over you, you had moved your head down to check on tommy. Your fingers delicately tracing over Tommy's cheek. Brushing the curls from his face.

You looked back up to techno as he came to a stop. “That was beautiful... Why didn't you tell me you played?” you asked softly. Being mindful of the toddler asleep in your arms. Techno slowly lowered the Violin to the couch.

“I didn't think it was that important to bring up” He said, returning the soft tone. Well he sat the instrument down his eyes met yours. You couldn't help but feel drawn to his eyes, they looked like beautiful glass, the fire’s reflection dancing within, making his eyes dance lively. “If you would like to talk more we should take him to bed first” he said, his eyes flickering to Tommy. You nodded slowly.

“Right, of course.”

After Techno and you had put Tommy to bed it was well into the night. Most of the servants and palace guards had retired to their beds, making way for the changing of the guards. Techno and you weren't really feeling the effects of sleep yet. Rather the two of you wanted to stay within each others company longer. Techno had walked you you to the garden, having snatched two blankets from the library before wondering out into the cold. Techno, having no where to be ended up taking his hair out from his braid. replacing it with a lower pony tail, giving his hair a moment of freedom from it’s confinement.

The garden was beautiful. They couldn't grow flowers of course, but there were elegant sculptures that replaced them. in the middle of the whole garden was a artesian well fountain. although long frozen when the two of you passed by you could hear the water running within the ice. It was peaceful to walk with Techno. It was rare when the two of you would make late night walks. Usually you would take them during the day, or after dinner. But nothing past 10 o’clock mostly.

“So what’s something else I should know about you?” You inquired to him. He smiled to himself before turning to you.

“Are you really going to start school yard type questions with me?” He teased. You smiled and lightly laughed. He was smiling at you, admiring how you looked when you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am. You going to answer them?” You couldn't help but tease back. He chuckled and hummed.

“Mmn. Maybe” he said bemused.

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked, now aiming for the most basic questions just to make him laugh in turn. He leaned onto the railing that over looked the kingdom, pondering a moment.

“Red’s a nice color, Or Plum Purple” He said looking at you. Taking a moment to ask you a question in turn. “Besides the forge what do you like to do?” You sat and thought a moment.

“I like to read, Action and Romance are a lot of fun” you mused, earning a laugh from him.

“Romance eh? Waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet? Lamee” he said jokingly. You laughed and took a swat at his chest.

“Oh hush up, I bet you’d like someone to sweep you off your feet Techno” You said, your eyes scanning the horizon. He sat and thought on your words a moment.

“Eh not particularly. Only lame nerds think of that” He said, turning, heading back for the garden door’s. you scoffed and laughed a bit.

“Jerk” you said between laughs. You were going to fallow, but then you had a wicked idea. You scooped up some snow in your hand and bit your lip trying to muffle your laugh. once you had a decent snowball you threw it at him. Bullseye. You had nailed him in the back of the head. He went still, You were a giggling mess now.

“Oh, your in for it now Princess” He said, smirking has he turned. Running after you, his blanket long discarded as he ran to grab you. You squealed out laughing, running from him, discarding your blanket too. You didn't get far before he hooked his arm around your torso, pulling you into his chest well you flapped about like a fish. “Your gonna’ be pullin’ snow out of your shirt for a week when I'm done with ya’!” he said Laughing. Picking snow up before putting it on your head. Some of it even went down your shirt. You flopped about, laughing the whole time until he dropped you into the snow bank. He laughed at you and how you were practically buried within the snow. This only fueled your fire. you threw two more snowball’s the first one missed, but the second one he grabbed out of mid air. You tried to free yourself from the snow bank before he came over to you, but it was no use. he climbed into the bank and shoved the snow down the back of your shirt. But this time you caught him off guard. You grabbed his arm and pulled. setting him off balance so he fell into the snow. Now it was your turn to laugh. tossing more snow onto him. It didn't take him long to recover of course, he simply rolled and grabbed your arms. Pinning them down to the snow. His body hovered over yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His face was that of pure joy, the long stoic look gone. he was at his happiest with you right now. He looked down at you, smiles adorning both of your faces. You two were happy. Happy with the moment, you just wanted it to last as long as it could. Well you two looked into each other’s eyes everything else lost meaning.

Without you two realizing, Phil watched above from one of the windows. He was smiling fondly at the little snowball war you just had. whether Techno had realized it yet or not, Phil did. Techno cared for you. Phil saw how he looked at you. During dinners, Lunches, casual talks, or even when the two of you hung out together. Techno looked at you with pure love and adoration. Phil knew if anyone was capable of wining Techno’s love it was going to be you. You were a hard worker, You cared for Techno’s brothers, got along well with all the servants, were mindful and respective of Techno's space, you also had enough spunk to rise up and toss back the teasing he threw. Phil knew this was the beginning of a love story.

After your snowball fight with techno the two of you did end up going back inside rather quickly. Well Techno may have not been cold, you were definitely cold after all that. You could feel the snow melting on your back, the drops of water running down your skin. But that didn't stop Techno from walking beside you. The two of you walked side by side, your arms around each other to share the warmth. The lingering giggles were etched onto your faces in wide smiles.

“I didn't hurt you at all, right?” Techno asked, double checking incase he was too rough. You shook your head smiling. Drawing your side of the blanket- that was wrapped around you both- closer to preserve the upcoming heat.

“Nah, I coulda’ have taken ya’ if you had stayed above me more” Techno laughed fondly. Amused with your spurt of spunk.

“Oh really now? You think you could take me?” This was now your turn to giggle. purposefully running into his side, shoving him lightly.

“Mmn.. I think I could have found a way” You said looking up towards your room. You had offered to walk techno to his room, but he declined. He said he would feel better if ‘The lady was at her room safely’. You didn't mind, you figured next time you would walk him to his room in turn to make it even, maybe fire back with ‘I must make sure the young prince is safe’.

He chuckled bemused. “If you really have that much spunk maybe I should teach you sword play, or maybe something more military related. you tilted your head up to him curiously.

“You would teach me something?” You asked, semi surprised, but also heart warmed that he would take time aside for you.

“Of course, Princess. I’ll teach you anything you want” He looked down to you as he spoke. He was smiling gently. His tone was fond as he addressed you. “Now don't think I’ll go easy on you though”

“Oh, I didn't think you would” You said, resting your hand on the door handle, opening it. “Would you wanna come in and warm up a bit?” You inquired, looking up to him. He went a faint pink before biting back a shit eating grin.

“Princess... Young men shouldn't be within young ladies chambers during such late hours... Unless, your trying to bed me?” He leaned on your door way. Biting back the largest grin. “Are you trying to bed me, Princess? I knew you had gotten some spunk but I never thought-” You laughed as he teased, going a bit red. trying to wave it off.

“No- No, you know what I mean-” He laughed and cut you off.

“Oh no, I know exactly what you mean” You smiled leaning on your door, looking up at him.

“Are you done?” You asked giggling. He hummed, his face towards yours as he shifted a little closer.

“Maybe” He said amused. “Go get some sleep, and warm up. I'm going to teach you sword play tomorrow” Your eyes lit up. Taking in a small gasp of excitement.

“Are you really?” You asked almost unsure that he was still teasing.

“I mean, Only if that interests you...” He said, his eyes lingering yours. You nodded fast and hugged him without much thought. Techno couldn't help the blood that ran to his face. He lightly cleared his throat as he rested his arms on you. A bit hesitant at first, but he slowly relaxed into your hold. Now understanding why Tommy liked to hug you a lot.

“Thank you...” You mumbled into his chest.

You swore if techno knocked you off your feet one more time you were going to find a way to shove his pretty head in the snow.

Techno was a monster- in the sense of strength. You thought when fighting him, it would be a mutual teaching before he actually started going ham on you. But no, he literary just started striking with no hesitation. Only when he had your swords in a lock did you voice your lag.

"Tech, please can we ease up?" You pleadded. He only watched you briefly. His inner General having come out a while ago.

"Your strong. You can take it" he said sharply. Earning a whine from you. You weren't strong. You didn't do this on a daily. You only made the swords. But he was pushing you. Pushing your strength, and your nerves for one.

"Techno I'm not strong, I- I've never done this-" he grabbed your sword and threw it away from you. Putting his own away. He grabbed your arm and pulled it to him. Pushing your sleeves up.

"Flex your arm." He commanded. You hesitated, looking up at him. "Don't look at me like that. I said flex your arm" you slowly did as he said. Drawing your fist, and flexing your arm. He grabbed your bicep and squeezed a bit. "Notice how hard it is?" You nodded slowly. A slight sting from where he squeezed. "That's pure muscle. You are stronger than you realize. If you convince yourself that you are weak or that you cannot do this, then that's what will become of you" he paused his eyes flashing to yours. "I understand that you are no warrior, but you have strength. As soon as you stop telling yourself that you are weak, you will make progress." He pulled your sleeve down, fixing it for you. "Rome wasn't built over night, Princess. It took time, planning, care, and had to show promise. When I look at you, I see great promise."

When he released your arm you walked over to pick your sword up. Techno readying his stance again. However, before you could break into another spar Phil had wondered out.

"Ay' Techno you have a letter on your desk. You may want to read it" Phil said with a bit of concern. Techno dropped his stance his brow furrowing. He gave a 'Heh?' In confusion. He glanced to you and to Phil.

“Can it wait a bit? I'm in the middle of teaching” Phil shook his head slowly. Techno paused as he thought a bit. "If I go, could you teach (y/n) a bit more? She feel's I'm too strong for her." He mused. His military side slowly fading away for his more domestic side.

"I suppose so." Phil said with a gentle smile. Techno gathered his things and ruffled your hair before leaving. Phil turned his attention towards you. "What has he showed you?" Phil inquired, walking over to you.

"Nothing besides showing me the ground.. seriously my back hurts.." you whined. Phil chuckled lightly at you.

"I should have known. Here I'll teach you some basic's" Before long Phil had you doing simple moves and stances. Things he felt would be easy for you to ace. After a while you got a bit curious.

"Why does techno think I can pick this up so easy? He fights so hard" You questioned. Looking over to Phil. He hummed a moment well he pondered.

"I uh, think that he just wants you to be able to defend yourself. He knows your strong, and besides. He thinks pretty highly of you, y'know'" you went a bit wide eyed. Techno thinks highly of you?

You looked to Phil with a bit of shock on your face. "He does?" He nodded, Smiling gently. Phil gently took the sword from your hands and hung it on the wall with the others.

Since you within the training hall, there was a plethora of weapons and armor of all kinds. The room was large, made for incasing many people. But the detail never faltered. The floor was of stone, pillars lining the outside to support a second floor. The ceiling was framed with gold, dark oak and a smooth white to open the room up more. It was a good place to spar and just ramble off thoughts.

"Oh, of course. He's said it multiple times to me. That's why he was fine with you coming with us to the mansion. Don't think that he hasn't been paying attention to you on the daily." Phil said looking up to you.

"He watches me?" You furrowed your brow slightly. Phil saw and continued.

"Not in the creepy way. He just takes notes of things you do, say you like, ect. He knows your kind with tommy, that you are very organized with your work. Your very detail oriented. He's become quite smitten with you" Phil chuckled. Finding it all amusing.

You were taken aback by this. You thought you two had a good friendship, but it looks like he's paid a lot of attention to you after all. It started to dawn on you. 'I don't really know much about him' you thought to yourself. Sure you knew his mom passed, his favorite color. But you never really dove into his personal life much beyond that. Maybe it was time you got to know him more. "If I wanted to know more about him... could I ask him?" You asked, looking up at Phil. He patted your head and started walking with you towards the hall.

"Of course. Something tells me he wouldn't turn you away." Phil said, biting a smile back. He remembered you two last night playing within the snow. He knew Techno would never turn you away, he was in love with you, even if techno wasn't aware of it.

After dinner you wondered towards Techno's office. You wanted to talk to him, get to know him better. You know he was powerful and kind, but you wanted to know more. What was his ambitions? His hopes, fears. You just wanted more.

When you walked up to the doors you carefully knocked, hearing talking within. When you herd the 'come in' you pushed the doors open. Techno was sat in his chair per usual, he had his reading glasses on with papers on his desk. When you entered he complied them together neatly. Setting them aside for later. However there was also a rather tall woman. she was beautiful, dripping with total control. Her hand was rested on her sword. When she turned to face you. You saw Her face, It was hard but something told you their was more too her. Her skin looked like it was kissed by the sun himself. She looked like she wasn't from here, but the way she dressed herself in armor told you elsewise.

"Hello (y/n)" techno said. The woman glanced to Techno and back to you. She offered a kind smile. "This is General Hawthorne, she's my leading General of the Empires army. I don't believe you two have met before" He said formally. Not having the tone he normally used with you.

She offered her hand. "Its nice to finally meet you (y/n). His Imperial Majesty said we would have a new Blacksmith. But I never expected someone as young as you" Her smile was warm. When you took her hand to shake it you were shocked with the grip she had. Under her glove you could feel some rings digging into your hand. "Don't worry about addressing me as Hawthorne. Seraphina is fine, or Sarah" you nodded smiling to return hers. Wanting her to drop your hand, her grip a tad to much.

"Its a pleasure to meet you, too" you said looking up to her. She turned back to Techno, taking a scroll from his desk.

"I'll see you there then sire" Sarah said, smiling before she walked out. You watched her go, your eyes lingering on the door as you thought. Turning back to Techno.

Techno took his reading glasses off and set them aside on his desk. Leaning back in his chair. When he looked up at you his eyes softened, his tone also becoming casual. "What do you think about weddings?".

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynnarts @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #TE

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justmaybee · 4 years ago

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I Want to ‘Hold’ Your Hand

Summary: Venti really has—what—ticklish palms? What does that even mean? Well, he’ll happily show Xiao.

A/N: Whoo, finally. This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. I just feel like everything I write is gross until I forget about it and can read it with new eyes. Any tips for that? Anyway, hope my first attempt at Xiaoven isn’t too off! Enjoy!

Spoilers for Mondstat Storyline

It’s a warm night—as far as nights in Liyue go—though there’s a persistent breeze that keeps the air from getting too humid or heavy. Xiao can’t say it’s a coincidence.

Barba— Venti, who sits across from him, made that clear when Xiao gave a passing comment on the heat. Perks of the Anemo Archon, he supposes.

When Venti suggested that Xiao make the trip to Mondstat to ‘catch up,’ Xiao had to decline. A day’s notice was far too short to make preparations, and a trip to the City of Freedom didn’t ‘free’ him of his duties to Liyue.

So when Venti showed up, unannounced, at Wangshu Inn asking for an adeptus—

Luckily Xiao was able to pick out his voice quickly, and drag him off to a quieter space, away from people.

The small parlor by the top of the inn is usually empty. Xiao doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone lounging at the table they have set there, not that he’s ever really kept an eye out. That made it the perfect spot for him to take his ‘surprise visitor.’

And though the arrival was — unexpected, something about Venti’s pleasant smile, after being rushed up a flight of stairs without so much as a greeting, is — calming.

The tension in Xiao’s shoulders disappears about as quickly as it came. And before long, they’re wrapped up in conversation. One would think that over centuries it would be easy to run out of things to talk about. But no, that’s never been the case. Not with Venti.

The unfortunate addendum to that is the fact that conversation often veers into the most strange and off-topic things.

“Your palms are...what?”

Venti giggles, Xiao doesn’t know if it’s at him or not. He doesn’t ask.

“My palms are ticklish. It’s weird. I don’t know how I never knew that before!”

Xiao doesn’t know why he knows this now, or why anyone would be expected to know that. He doesn’t even know what Venti means entirely.

“How can your palms be ticklish?”

Venti laughs again, bright and bubbly, almost certainly at Xiao now.

“Like this!”

And just like that, Venti has Xiao’s hand in his own. He’s got it facing palm up and he gives no warning before sliding his fingertips from the bottom up.

It — ah, what.

There’s no conscious thought behind it, but Xiao’s hand clams up immediately. An unexpected noise tangles in his throat, getting partially out before he can bottle it.

For the first time since he brought Venti up, all he can hear is the whistle of the wind.

“No way.”

Xiao sees Venti’s sparkling eyes for a second before they’re glued to Xiao’s hand. He tries to pry it back open, but with Xiao consciously clenching his fist, there’s no chance Venti would be able to do it. Not unless he wanted to drop the bard act and start some rumors in Liyue.

When this becomes clear to Venti, he changes tactics, peering back at Xiao, eyes big and lips pouting.

As if Xiao hasn’t been exposed to that for decades. He stares back, unfazed.

Venti groans, tugging at Xiao’s hand in his. “Come on, Xiao! I thought you wanted to know what I meant! Please? Just a little?”

His voice is whiny, pleading and child-like, and Xiao must once again remind himself that archons come in all forms.

And yet—

It’s — somewhat frustrating. He holds no contracts with this god but—

Venti keeps staring, eyes stubborn and bright.

Xiao’s fist slowly relaxes.

Venti doesn’t seem to believe it at first, but the titter of laughter that bursts in the air shows he’s pleased. It also leads Xiao to believe this is the opposite of a good idea.

This time he takes Xiao’s hand in both of his, resting his own on the table top. Xiao can already feel the muscles in his arm tensing up, but—

Venti rubs his thumbs into the base of his hand, moving up and out. The motion repeats, stretching along the bottom of his hand and out towards the sides. He massages in a circular motion across the skin, smoothing it out with firm strokes of his fingers.

It’s nice.

It’s so nice that when the massage starts turning into something else, Xiao doesn’t pick up on it right away.

The touches become lighter, less rubbing into the skin and more skimming on top of it.

Then he changes positions, resting Xiao’s hand on top one of his while the other brushes along the lines of his palm.

His hand is lax from the massage, but Xiao can feel pinpricks of tingling sensation start to bloom. Feeling that makes his fingers curl up a fraction. Venti smoothes them back down.

His fingers persist, tracing the lines in his skin and then making his own. Swirling shapes and symbols onto the canvas of Xiao’s palm with a small smile of his face.

Xiao...can feel it growing. The tingling feeling from before, almost like when his uses his vision. A light prickle at the end of his arm accompanied by a coolness from the wind.

This is just — more. More tingling, a feeling that sparks in his palm and trickles up his arm. It’s also different, because it’s not cool. If anything, it’s warm. He can feel it in the building tightness of his arm, in the heat by his neck.

He feels a pull at his lip. He bites back before it can be seen.

Venti keeps going, light brushes that leave no space untouched. Focus that goes over and over the places that make his fingers twitch.

Eventually Xiao finds himself pressing his face into his other arm, flat on the table. He’s hardly moved and yet he breathes heavily through his nose. His arm is tense, buzzing with built up sensation, but his hand remains open.

Venti stops for a moment. Xiao takes a shaky breath. Then he scribbles all four of his fingers, short nails and all, from the bottom to the top of Xiao’s palm, a wavy waterfall motion.

Finally, Xiao’s hand curls up, catching Venti’s fingers in his own.

His head jerks up from the table, a breathy ‘s-stohop’ falling his lips.

In looking back at Venti, still lost for breath, Xiao finds him staring back. His gaze is locked on, equal parts fond and mischievous. It makes Xiao’s throat tighten up, makes the hairs of his neck stand on edge.

It’s a good thing his self-defense skills have been honed over centuries.

He puts his hand out, cupping it distinctively. He’s looking to hold something, not offer himself up for more of the bard’s demonstration.

Venti looks confused for a moment. Xiao pointedly looks at his hand.

“It’s only fair.”

Then it clicks, and Venti laughs, pulling his hand out of Xiao’s before placing it—palm up—in his outstretched one.

Xiao quickly finds that Venti shows no restraint in his reactions, though that would be expected of the God of Freedom.

His giggles float like a song on the wind, light and airy to the ear. He cushions his cheek on his arm, eyes shut as he laughs. He can’t see the small smile that slips its way onto Xiao’s face as he marks listless characters onto Venti’s inviting hand.

#bee stuffs #tickling #tickle fic #Xiaoven #Xiao #Venti #ticklish!Xiao #genshin impact #whoo

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madfantasy · 3 years ago

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Dearest Mani, you are always in my heart and prayers! You're incredibly talented as an artist and a writer (I think you could write a good autobiography, I find your writing both heartbreaking and fascinating), and so strong and persistent! I dreamed of becoming an artist as a kid, but wasn't allowed to study drawing, but when I became a teen nobody could prevent me from learning... but I was too hesitant... with too low self-esteem... so I never learned, alas. Be blessed, my darling!

Oh dear Bianca, thank you so much, bless your heart🫂💛

I always fear when I share about my life that I be a burden.. I have to apologise

I'm sorry you had that experience, I understand at times people think of art as not a rewarding path and maybe discourage people from it, but if its your dream, its yours and it is in you, and you're never late to start if the dream still dwells within the space of your pleased mild unconsciousness and the results shouldn't matter most of the time, the more you do it, the more it be obvious what you can and can't do, and what you want and don't want to do in the vast fields of art~

I honestly have never considered art as something I'd go with, I actually was a mathmatic wiz and enjoyed solving these equations like chewing on sour candy, my mouth frothing at the thought of getting more... and wrestling, its still my second goal..

Art was something I did out of necessity; I wasn't allowed to express much, it was similar to the life style of military (the irony here is my last name means warrior, and alot of distant family were inrolled, including my guardians) it was a life line mechanism your body forcesyou to do, to breath. I didn't think of it, I didn't plan it, I didn't consider it Art, so I always feel because I didn't seek it as art or have sought to learn it properly or have in my possession a sealed certificate of learning it, i can't call myself an artist! (But that continuesly was proven wrong as I became more and more involved in it)

And the amount of resistance I got towards me drawing equalled me stubbornly drawing even more. It was as if I was involved in the dark arts, which it was to my family, my teachers, my peers— everyone. It was a reason for them to crush me, but it didn't crush the urge to draw non stop.

I remember as a kid they let me cuz its child's play, and was aware of all those adults saying to my guardians, oh Mani's art is amazing but you know what to do when they grow up. They beat the freak out of me every time they caught me doing it. So my choices became draw while they are asleep ( or my own sleep time under the covers) or at work. Second place is at school, I was taking every pause possibility to draw like I'm possessed to, while decently acing school. I mean I literally did my homework and everything at school so I don't have to do anything home but draw.

Inevitably I was found out at school, even tho I was and still a very quiet shy kid, and I try to hide my art anyway possible whilst drawing. Evey time the consequences were either of those two: utter humiliation, or a praise with guilt.

They praised me saying its amazing but I can't do that, and to please stop it. Or just being silently fascinated by it and taking it without telling me its good so they "won't encourage me"

The humiliation was me pointed out as what not to do to the whole class, and telling me I'm going to hell when I die and be forced to try and make those creations I made come to life, seeing that I could not, be tortured with alot of graphically disturbing description of fire and burns. First when I was 7 years old. I remember standing too in a line in front of the whole school at queue as the "shameful" students line, watching some of my peers cry and me just standing there just struggling not to laugh. Cuz idk

Other time peers snatching my art from me and running around with it and calling me names, and such, and it takes a bit more than rough housing by me to get it back. Often school calling home and getting my share of beating from there too.

I remember the biggest humiliation I got is by a freaking art teacher snatching my mouths stocked folder thanks to the stupidity of a peer I didn't even allow to share my art with leaving it wide open for the teacher to see. They took it, questioned my classmates as to how the frk nobody reported my art to the admin or whatever. And if they were okay with the horrors I make. They were heh.

But didn't stop the admin from basicly spreading that and assuming that i am crazy and need psychological help. Which made more hard beatings at home hearing that in the phone call they made.

I eventually fell out from school because of continuing decline financial situation and my mental stability. The cycle didn't end, guardians never stopped killing me over it, destroying my art, threatening, the whole work— till I got commissioned for the very first time. Like only few years ago. They let off seeing now it brings money..

Till this day they don't know what I draw thanks to switching digitally nd speaking English. Also they don't have the health to go around snooping in my stuff anymore right around the time too

The bottom line is, I don't know how everything just fell into place, into being an artist rather than it being a choice to make.. still carrying those shackles of always get those flashes of being hurt by it, regretting posting and drawing always and feeling its never good enough or not being something acceptable or sought-after. But on the flip side, it's the embodiment of freedom, it's the most accomplished, happy, fulfilled, humaaaaann I ever be while practising it.

What you love and will be will happen no matter what and how long...

I'm sorry for more sad dibble about my life..

I am happy today; I just wore like passes as a boy trouble maker here and my guardians were laughing and hyping me to go out on the streets and make some trouble. The exact intention hehe. And I wanted to share but can't do that publicly but posted on my ko-fi hehe

Leaving u with sev wip , and all my love 💛🌟

#ask #mybianca112 #my art #severus snape #drawing journey #nonbinary pride #personal

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years ago

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Anonymous said: I didn’t know too much about the late British philosopher Sir Roger Scruton until I followed your superbly cultured blog. As an ivy league educated American reading your posts, I feel he is a breath of fresh air as a sane and cultured conservative intellectual. We don’t really have his kind over here where things are heavily polarized between left and right, and sadly, we are often uncivil in our discourse. Sir Roger Scruton talks a lot about beauty especially in art (as indeed you do too), so for Scruton why does beauty as an aesthetic matter in art? Why should we care?

I thank you for your very kind words about my blog which I fear is not worthy of such fulsome praise.

However one who is worthy of praise (or at least gratitude and appreciation at least) is the late Sir Roger Scruton. I have had the pleasure to have met him on a few informal occasions.

Most memorably, I once got invited to High Table dinner at Peterhouse, Cambridge, by a friend who was a junior Don there. This was just after I had finished my studies at Cambridge and rather than pursue my PhD I opted instead to join the British army as a combat pilot officer. And so I found out that Scruton was dining too. We had very pleasant drinks in the SCR before and after dinner. He was exceptionally generous and kind in his consideration of others; we all basked in the gentle warmth of his wit and wisdom.

I remember talking to him about Xanthippe, Socrate’s wife, because I had read his wickedly funny fictional satire. In the book he credits the much maligned Xanthippe with being the brains behind all of Socrates’ famous philosophical ideas (as espoused by Plato).

On other occasions I had seen Roger Scruton give the odd lecture in London or at some cultural forum.

Other than that, I’ve always admire both the man and many of his ideas from afar. I do take issue with some of his intellectual ideas which seem to be taken a tad too far (he think pre-Raphaelites were kitsch) but it’s impossible to dislike the man in person.

Indeed the Marxist philosopher G.A. Cohen reportedly once refused to teach a seminar with Scruton, although they later became very good friends. This is the gap between the personal and the public persona. In public he was reviled as hate figure by some of the more intolerant of the leftists who were trying to shut him down from speaking. But in private his academic peers, writers, and philosophers, regardless of their political beliefs, hugely respected him and took his ideas seriously - because only in private will they ever admit that much of what Scruton talks about has come to pass.

In many ways he was like C.S. Lewis - a pariah to the Oxbridge establishment. At Oxford many dons poo-pooed his children stories, and especially his Christian ideas of faith, culture, and morality, and felt he should have laid off the lay theology and stuck to his academic speciality of English Literature. But an Oxford friend, now a don, tells me that many dons read his theological works in private because much of what he wrote has become hugely relevant today.

Scruton was a man of parts, some of which seemed irreconcilable: barrister, aesthetician, distinguished professor of aesthetics. Outside of brief pit stops at Cambridge, Oxford, and St Andrews, he was mostly based out of Birkbeck College, London University, which had a tradition of a working-class intake and to whom Scruton was something of a popular figure. He was also an editor of the ultra-Conservative Salisbury Review, organist, and an enthusiastic fox hunter. In addition he wrote over 50 books on philosophy, art, music, politics, literature, culture, sexuality, and religion, as well as finding time to write novels and two operas. He was widely recognised for his services to philosophy, teaching and public education, receiving a knighthood in 2016.

He was exactly the type of polymath England didn’t know what to do with because we British do discourage such continental affectations and we prefer people to know their lane and stick to it. Above all we’re suspicious of polymaths because no one likes a show off. Scruton could be accused of a few things but he never perceived as a show off. He was a gentle, reserved, and shy man of kindly manners.

He was never politically ‘Conservative’, or tried not to be. Indeed he encouraged many to think about defining “a philosophy of conservatism” and not “a philosophy for the Conservative Party.” In defining his own thoughts, he positioned conservatism to relation to its historical rivals, liberalism and socialism. He wrote that liberalism was the product of the enlightenment, which viewed society as a contract and the state as a system for guaranteeing individual rights. While he saw socialism as the product of the industrial revolution, and an ideology which views society as an economic system and the state as a means of distributing social wealth.

Like another great English thinkers, Michael Oakeshott, he felt that conservatives leaned more towards liberalism then socialism, but argued that for conservatives, freedom should also entail responsibility, which in turn depends on public spirit and virtue. Many classical liberals would agree.

In fact, he criticised Thatcherism for “its inadequate emphasis on the civic virtues, such as self-sacrifice, duty, solidarity and service of others.” Scruton agreed with classical liberals in believing that markets are not necessarily expressions of selfishness and greed, but heavily scolded his fellow Conservatives for allowing themselves to be caricatured as leaving social problems to the market. Classical liberals could be criticised for the same neglect.

Perhaps his conservative philosophy was best summed up when he wrote “Liberals seek freedom, socialists equality, and conservatives responsibility. And, without responsibility, neither freedom nor equality have any lasting value.”

Scruton’s politics were undoubtedly linked to his philosophy, which was broadly Hegelian. He took the view that all of the most important aspects of life – truth (the perception of the world as it is), beauty (the creation and appreciation of things valued for their own sake), and self-realisation (the establishment by a person of a coherent, autonomous identity) – can be achieved only as part of a cultural community within which meaning, standards and values are validated. But he had a wide and deep understanding of the history of western philosophy as a whole, and some of his best philosophical work consisted of explaining much more clearly than is often the case how different schools of western philosophy relate to one another.

People today still forget how he was a beacon for many East European intellectuals living under Communist rule in the 1980s. Scruton was deeply attached in belonging to a network of renowned Western scholars who were helping the political opposition in Eastern Europe. Their activity began in Czechoslovakia with the Jan Hus Foundation in 1980, supported by a broad spectrum of scholars from Jacques Derrida and Juergen Habermas to Roger Scruton and David Regan. Then came Poland, Hungary and later Romania. In Poland, Scruton co-founded the Jagiellonian Trust, a small but significant organisation. The other founders and active participants were Baroness Caroline Cox, Jessica Douglas-Home, Kathy Wilkes, Agnieszka Kołakowska, Dennis O’Keeffe, Timothy Garton Ash, and others.

Scruton had a particular sympathy for Prague and the Czech society, which bore fruit in the novel, Notes from Underground, which he wrote many years later. But his involvement in East European affairs was more than an emotional attachment. He believed that Eastern Europe - despite the communist terror and aggressive social engineering - managed to preserve a sense of historical continuity and strong ties to European and national traditions, more unconscious than openly articulated, which made it even more valuable. For this reason, decades later, he warned his East European friends against joining the European Union, arguing that whatever was left of those ties will be demolished by the political and ideological bulldozer of European bureaucracy.

Anyway, digressions aside, onto to the heart of your question.

Art matters.

Let’s start from there. Regardless of your personal tastes or aesthetics as you stand before a painting, slip inside a photograph, run your hand along the length of a sculpture, or move your body to the arrangements spiraling out of the concert speakers…something very primary - and primal - is happening. And much of it sub-conscious. There’s an element of trust.

Political philosopher, Hannah Arendt, defined artworks as “thought things,” ideas given material form to inspire reflection and rumination. Dialogue. Sometimes even discomfort. Art has the ability to move us, both positively and negatively. So we know that art matters. But the question posed by modern philosophers such as Roger Scruton has been: how do we want it to affect us?

Are we happy with the direction art is taking? Namely, says, Scruton, away from seeking “higher virtues” such as beauty and craftmanship, and instead, towards novelty for novelty’s sake, provoking emotional response under the guise of socio-political discourse.

Why does beauty in art matter?

Scruton asks us to wake up and start demanding something more from art other than disposable entertainment. “Through the pursuit of beauty,” suggests Scruton, “we shape the world as our own and come to understand our nature as spiritual beings. But art has turned its back on beauty and now we are surrounded by ugliness.” The great artists of the past, says Scruton, “were painfully aware that human life was full of care and suffering, but their remedy was beauty. The beautiful work of art brings consolation in sorrow and affirmation…It shows human life to be worthwhile.” But many modern artists, argues the philosopher, have become weary of this “sacred task” and replaced it with the “randomness” of art produced merely to gain notoriety and the result has been anywhere between kitsch to ugliness that ultimately leads to inward alienation and nihilistic despair.

The best way to understand Scruton’s idea of beauty in art and why it matters is to let him speak for himself. Click below on the video and watch a BBC documentary broadcast way back in 2009 that he did precisely on this subject, why beauty matters. It will not be a wasted hour but perhaps enrich and even enlighten your perspective on the importance of beauty in art.

vimeo

So I’ll do my best to summarise the point Scruton is making in this documentary above.

Here goes.....

In his 2009 documentary “Why Beauty Matters”, Scruton argues that beauty is a universal human need that elevates us and gives meaning to life. He sees beauty as a value, as important as truth or goodness, that can offer “consolation in sorrow and affirmation in joy”, therefore showing human life to be worthwhile.

According to Scruton, beauty is being lost in our modern world, particularly in the fields of art and architecture.

I was raised in many different cultures from India, Pakistan, to China, Japan, Southern Africa, and the Middle East as well schooling in rural Britain and Switzerland. So coming home to London on frequent visits was often a confusing experience because of the mismatch of modern art and new architecture. In life and in art I have chosen to see the beauty in things, locating myself in Paris, where I am surrounded by beauty, and understand the impact it can have on the everyday.

Scruton’s disdain for modern art begins with Marcel Duchamp’s urinal. Originally a satirical piece designed to mock the world of art and the snobberies that go with it, it has come to mean that anything can be art and anyone can be an artist. A “cult of ugliness” was created where originality is placed above beauty and the idea became more important than the artwork itself. He argues that art became a joke, endorsed by critics, doing away with a need for skill, taste or creativity.

Duchamp’s argument was that the value of any object lies solely in what each individual assigns it, and thus, anything can be declared “art,” and anyone an artist.

But is there something wrong with the idea that everything is art and everyone an artist? If we celebrate the democratic ideals of all citizens being equal and therefore their input having equal value, doesn’t Duchamp’s assertion make sense?

Who’s to say, after all, what constitutes beauty?

This resonated with me in particular and brought to mind when Scruton meets the artist Michael Craig-Martin and asks him about how Duchamp’s urinal first made him feel. Martin is best known for his work “An Oak Tree” which is a glass of water on a shelf, with text beside it explaining why it is an oak tree. Martin argues that Duchamp captures the imagination and that art is an art because we think of it as such.

When I first saw “An Oak Tree” I was confused and felt perhaps I didn’t have the intellect to understand it. When I would later question it with friends who worked in the art auction and gallery world, the response was always “You just don’t get it,” which became a common defence. To me, it was reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen’s short tale “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, about two weavers who promise an emperor a new suit of clothes that they say is invisible to those who are unfit for their positions, stupid or incompetent. In reality, they make no clothes at all.

Scruton argues that the consumerist culture has been the catalyst for this change in modern art. We are always being sold something, through advertisements that feed our appetite for stuff, adverts try to be brash and outrageous to catch our attention. Art mimics advertising as artists attempt to create brands, the product that they sell is themselves. The more shocking and outrageous the artwork, the more attention it receives. Scruton is particularly disturbed by Piero Manzoni’s artwork “Artist’s Shit” which consists of 90 tin cans filled with the artist’s excrement.

Moreover the true aesthetic value, the beauty, has vanished in modern works that are selling for millions of dollars. In such works, by artists like Rothko, Franz Kline, Damien Hirst, and Tracey Emin, the beauty has been replaced by discourse. The lofty ideals of beauty are replaced by a social essay, however well intentioned.

A common argument for modern art is that it is reflecting modern life in all of its disorder and ugliness. Scruton suggests that great art has always shown the real in the light of the ideal and that in doing so it is transfigured.

A great painting does not necessarily have a beautiful subject matter, but it is made beautiful through the artist’s interpretation of it. Rembrandt shows this with his portraits of crinkly old women and men or the compassion and kindness of which Velazquez paints the dwarfs in the Spanish court. Modern art often takes the literal subject matter and misses the creative act. Scruton expresses this point using the comparison of Tracey Emin’s artwork ‘My Bed’ and a painting by Delacroix of the artist’s bed.

The subject matters are the same. The unmade beds in all of their sordid disdain. Delacroix brings beauty to a thing that lacks it through the considered artistry of his interpretation and by doing so, places a blessing on his own emotional chaos. Emin shares the ugliness that the bed shows by using the literal bed. According to Emin, it is art because she says that it is so.

Philosophers argued that through the pursuit of beauty, we shape the world as our home. Traditional architecture places beauty before utility, with ornate decorative details and proportions that satisfy our need for harmony. It reminds us that we have more than just practical needs but moral and spiritual needs too. Oscar Wilde said “All art is absolutely useless,” intended as praise by placing art above utility and on a level with love, friendship, and worship. These are not necessarily useful but are needed.

We have all experienced the feeling when we see something beautiful. To be transported by beauty, from the ordinary world to, as Scruton calls it, “the illuminated sphere of contemplation.” It is as if we feel the presence of a higher world. Since the beginning of western civilisation, poets and philosophers have seen the experience of beauty as a calling to the divine.

According to Scruton, Plato described beauty as a cosmic force flowing through us in the form of sexual desire. He separated the divine from sexuality through the distinction between love and lust. To lust is to take for oneself, whereas to love is to give. Platonic love removes lust and invites us to engage with it spiritually and not physically. As Plato says, “Beauty is a visitor from another world. We can do nothing with it save contemplate its pure radiance.”

Scruton makes the prescient point that art and beauty were traditionally aligned in religious works of art. Science impacted religion and created a spiritual vacuum. People began to look to nature for beauty, and there was a shift from religious works of art to paintings of landscapes and human life.

In today’s world of art and architecture, beauty is looked upon as a thing of the past with disdain. Scruton believes his vision of beauty gives meaning to the world and saves us from meaningless routines to take us to a place of higher contemplation. In this I think Scruton encourages us not to take revenge on reality by expressing its ugliness, but to return to where the real and the ideal may still exist in harmony “consoling our sorrows and amplifying our joys.”

Scruton believes when you train any of your senses you are privy to a heightened world. The artist sees beauty everywhere and they are able to draw that beauty out to show to others. One finds the most beauty in nature, and nature the best catalyst for creativity. The Tonalist painter George Inness advised artists to paint their emotional response to their subject, so that the viewer may hope to feel it too.

It must be said that Scruton’s views regarding art and beauty are not popular with the modern art crowd and their postmodern advocates. Having written several books on aesthetics, Scruton has developed a largely metaphysical aspect to understanding standards of art and beauty.

Throughout this documentary (and indeed his many books and articles), Scruton display a bias towards ‘high’ art, evidenced by a majority of his examples as well as his dismissal of much modern art. However on everyday beauty, there is much space for Scruton to challenge his own categories and extend his discussion to include examples from popular culture, such as in music, graphic design, and film. Omitting ‘low art’ in the discussion of beauty could lead one to conclude that beauty is not there.

It is here I would part ways with Scruton. I think there is beauty to be found in so called low art of car design, popular music or cinema for example - here I’m thinking of a Ferrari 250 GTO, jazz, or the films of Bergman, Bresson, or Kurosawa (among others) come to mind. Scruton gives short thrift to such 20th century art forms which should not be discounted when we talk of beauty. It’s hard to argue with Jean-Luc Godard for instance when he once said of French film pioneering director, Robert Bresson, “He is the French cinema, as Dostoevsky is the Russian novel and Mozart is German music.”

Overall though I believe Scruton does enough to leave us to ponder ourselves on the importance of beauty in the arts and our lives, including fine arts, music, and architecture. I think he succeeds in illuminating the poverty, dehumanisation and fraud of modernist and post-modernist cynicism, reductionism and nihilism. Scruton is rightly prescient in pointing the centrality of human aspiration and the longing for truth in both life and art.

In this he is correct in showing that goodness and beauty are universal and fundamentally important; and that the value of anything is not utilitarian and without meaning (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s claim that “All art is absolutely useless.”). Human beings are not purposeless material objects for mechanistic manipulation by others, and civil society itself depends upon a cultural consensus that beauty is real and every person should be respected with compassion as having dignity and nobility with very real spiritual needs to encounter and be transformed and uplifted by beauty.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #sir roger scruton #scruton #art #aesthetics #beauty #architecture #music #paintings #film #cinema #personal

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years ago

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Branded - Chapter 51

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Discussions are had, tests are conducted, and decisions are made.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You told Bucky everything, leaving nothing out. You also explained what you meant about having an “affinity” to demonic magic, because it was more than that. Much more.

From your experience in the demon realm, to your body changing and the power you could sense from the planet itself, Strange had determined that you weren’t just proficient with demon energy, it fueled your magic. Just like the Ancient One drew her power from the Dark Dimension, your powers came from the demon world.

Bucky wasn’t any happier than the first time he’d heard it, but he digested it better after hearing the details. You got the sense that in the end he wasn’t surprised, and that’s why he’d been so upset. It was everything he’d feared. Your chance of having a quiet, boring life was over, but looking back at everything, you weren’t sure you were meant for that kind of life in the first place. And it seemed that Bucky was less happy about that than you were.

Especially when your magic could potentially protect Bucky from the next Helmut Zemo. All you had to do was master an experimental ritual no one had done before.

And in the end, Bucky came around to it.

“It’s dangerous. Untested. Anything could go wrong,” Bucky said, brows furrowed. And then his face slightly softened. “But I guess all spells were like that at one point. All I ask is that we do this as safely as possible, with Strange’s supervision.”

Bucky snorted at the dubious eye you gave him.

“I may still be pissed at the guy, and I blame him for a lot of what happened, but that doesn’t mean I think he’s totally incompetent. And besides, Wong will be there, and I trust his judgement.”

So there you were, nervously waiting in Bucky’s living room for a portal to appear after he made a phone call. You were going back to the Sanctum, with Bucky this time, and together you would approach Strange again.

When you met with him in his office and once again told him the ritual you wanted to perform, Strange was no happier than the first time, either.

“You do realize it could kill you both,” he said, leaning one hip against his desk, arms folded and expression equally drawn. “Or worse.”

You didn’t have to ask what “worse” could be. You’d lived it.

“I realize there are a lot of risks,” you began slowly, not ceding ground just yet. “Which is why I won’t do it without Bucky’s consent. And I would prefer I have your approval, or at least, your supervision.”

“And if I say no, you’ll do it anyway?” Strange sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bucky remained silent behind you, but you could sense his support and encouragement.

“Listen.” You were going to use the logical approach and hope that Strange could see it, even if he didn’t approve. “It’s only a matter of time before someone else learns about demons, about Bucky’s existence, and tries to either kill him or use him. If it’s within my power, I’m not going to let that happen.”

Strange eyed Bucky, who stood with his own arms folded and his tail flicking back and forth, and the master wizard seemed more tense as the conversation unfolded.

“There are other ways, you know, to protect yourself from being enslaved,” Strange said, this time to Bucky.

“I’m well aware,” Bucky nearly growled. “And I would trust her with my life if it came to that, but I would also rather not be beholden to magic that HYDRA forced onto me. This…”

He glanced your way, his expression softening.

“This is the closest I’ll ever have to true freedom. It’s a gift, one I won’t toss away because it’s a risk.”

“If it works, and doesn’t kill or corrupt you both, it might not be effective. Or work the way you want it to. It could make your previous pact look like a happy arrangement,” Strange muttered unhappily.

“That’s our decision to make.” Bucky stared at the wizard evenly. “And we’ve already made it.”

Strange looked between you both, studying your expressions long and hard, before he expelled a laborious breath.

“I can see that.”

“Will you help us?” You put the question to him bluntly, knowing this wasn’t the time to be timid or mince words. “We would really appreciate it. I would really appreciate it. We could do it on our own, but…”

You focused on your hands, twisted them together so they would stop fidgeting.

“This is probably the most important decision I’ve ever made, and I don’t want to screw it up. And if I do make a mistake, I want you and Wong to be there. At the very least, for damage control.”

There was a hint of a smile and a spark of something in Strange’s eyes.

“I haven’t said yes yet.” He pushed off from the desk, smoothed the collar of his cape, and said, “Come with me.”

You exchanged a confused glance with Bucky, who only gave a shrug, so you had no choice but to follow the wizard as he left his office. You weren’t expecting him to lead you to one of the large training rooms, or to open it to the Mirror Dimension. Fractals and shards formed in the air like cracked glass, and like every time you were here, you stared in wonder.

Even Bucky’s eyes widened in awe, his arms uncrossing from his chest, and you took it from his expression that he didn’t come here very often.

For a moment, you wondered if Strange was going to have you try out the ritual in this place where you could perform complicated, dangerous spells without affecting the real world.

Instead, he turned to you and said, “I want you to open a portal for me.”

You squinted at him. Wong had purposefully left that lesson to the side, probably because nothing happened every time you equipped a sling ring, but you weren’t sure what Strange was getting at.

“You brought me to the Mirror Dimension, to form… a portal. Isn’t this a bit overkill?”

“Considering how your last fully formed portal breached the demon realm, no. This is not ‘overkill.’” Strange even said the word in air quotes, the smug bastard. Unfortunately, he also had a point.

“So, what?” You gestured at the fragments around you. “I’m able to summon a portal and you’ll let me perform the ritual?”

“I’m not going to sanction an untrained sorcerer with permission to perform experimental magic.”

“Right, because you’re such a stickler for rules and definitely didn’t open unauthorized portals into the library at the Kamar-Taj sanctum.”

Bucky snorted and smirked. Strange narrowed his eyes.

“Which is why I understand the reason these rules are in place. You’ve yet to form a portal, but once you have, you’ll have graduated into a fully-fledged sorcerer.” He paused and slightly tilted his head. “Be glad you’re not learning the way I learned, otherwise I would drop you on top of Mount Everest and leave you there.”

Bucky gave a bark of laughter this time.

“I knew it,” he said, grinning. “I knew that rumor was true.”

“Yes, well.” Strange huffed. “The Ancient One was a much gentler teacher with you than she was with me.”

“Or maybe I was the better student.” Bucky smirked even wider.

Before Strange could retort, which he was absolutely going to do from the offended expression on his face, you held out your arms between them.

“Can we play ‘Mom loved me more’ another time?”

“I wasn’t—“

“That is hardly—“

You rolled your eyes and turned away. As entertaining as this was, there was only one way to get them to shut up once they got started.

You lifted your arms in the correct starting position and tugged at the now-familiar font of power within you, forming the shape of the portal in your mind. You moved your other hand in a circular motion, and with a fiery rip you could almost feel, the air cracked and caught fire in the same movement as your hand.

An orange portal hovered before you, showing a circular view of the Manhattan skyline as seen from the rooftop.

You exhaled and looked over your shoulder.

“There. You happy?”

They both stared at you, unblinking, but Strange’s expression was the most stunned. You didn’t know why until he drew his hand out of his pocket. Within his palm was a sling ring.

Your sling ring.

You slowly glanced back to the portal, at your hands that were plain and ringless, and you closed the portal with a startled movement.

“Well,” Strange said when he’d found his voice again, “That’s certainly… interesting.”

“How did she do that?” Bucky took a step forward, as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, but he held back. You wished he hadn’t; Strange’s reaction was concerning, as were his next words.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Well… Does it at least mean it’s possible I can do the ritual?”

Strange adjusted his collar and cleared his throat, his expression still a mixture of confusion and worry.

“Among other things.”

You and Bucky glanced at each other. What the hell did that mean?

“What does that mean?” you repeated aloud, following Strange out of the Mirror Dimension as he closed it behind all three of you. “Does it mean I’m ready?”

“It means you’re closer to being ready,” the sorcerer said over his shoulder as he walked ahead. “There’s still much to do.”

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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legoshi-plz · 5 years ago

Text

Captivity (Legoshi x Reader)

Summary: You and Legoshi are kidnapped and forced to breed. That’s it.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW 18+), Dark Themes/ Elements

A/N: @jiffygis requested a Legoshi x Omnivore! Reader so I went with a Dog because it fit the narrative of the story a little better.

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“HELP! ANYONE PLEASE!” You scream as you’re thrown into the cellar. The floor is cold and hard, you scrape your knee on the way down.

“Y/N? Is that you?” You recognize that voice but it’s much too dark to see.

“Oh shit, that right you can’t see. It’s me, Legoshi,” Your heart leaps at the familiar name.

“Legoshi! Where are you, I can’t- I-,” you flail your arms until you come into contact with the soft warmth that is his fur. He takes your hand.

“Where are we?” You whine, a tremble of fear lacing your voice.

“I don’t know, I was with the rest of the art department setting up for the festival and next thing I knew, I woke up here. Do you remember how you got here?” You could hear in his voice he was trying to be rational and keep the panic at bay. For that you were grateful because you were already on the verge of tears.

“N-no,” you choked back a sob.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it tog-

“Well well well, what do we have here,” came a loud voice as the lights finally came on. You could finally see that the cellar wasn’t a cellar at all. It was a room with a large glass wall that revealed the source of the voice on the other side.

An older ram with horns so big they could have only been surgically enhanced stood on the other side. He wore an all red suit with gold cuff links and was flanked by two equally luxurious bulls, his protection no doubt.

“I see the boys weren’t lying when they said they’d brought me a prize. Quite the specimens indeed,” he grinned manically, revealing a set of pristine veneers.

“Who are you? What do you want from us?” Legoshi asked, subconsciously pushing you behind him in case things went astray.

“Ah yes, I suppose an explanation is in order. [Redacted]’s my name and I’m what you’d call.... a breeder. Used to breed for the Black Market but there’s no real money in that. Not like in Brawls that is.” Your heart sank at the words.

Brawls were an evolved form of antiquated Dogfights. They were illegal which made the underground circuit that much more profitable. You cringed at the thought of him entering you two into such a life. Legoshi was strong, an Alpha male, a wolf; he’d make it for sure. Yourself on the other hand? You were a Dog, a [Y/D/B] to be exact, one of the most domesticated species out there. You didn’t even eat meat for goodness sake! You wouldn’t last a minute in one of those bloodbaths.

“Seeing how easily my men brought you in, I can tell that neither of you can put up a fight. Looks like you’ll just have to serve a higher purpose.” The Ram guffawed a hideous laugh, his lackeys joining in obnoxiously.

“Please just let us go! We won’t tell anyone!” You yelp, still clinging to Legoshi’s hand.

“Oh I intend to let you go, dearie. After you’ve earned your freedom. You two are gonna breed me pups. Grey Wolf fighters will dominate in the ring and you’re going to give me a whole army of them.”

“But I’m not a Grey Wo-

“That’s clear to everyone in this room, Dog. But you’re young, healthy, and ripe for being bred. With genes as strong as his, they’ll run right through you.” He fished through his jacket pocket, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

“Now.... how old are you two?” His lust-tinged eyes raked over the two of you.

“We’re highschoolers!” Legoshi spat, baring his fangs.

“That don’t answer my question.”

“Eighteen.” Legoshi said through gritted teeth.

“E-eighteen,” you sighed in defeat.

“Thought so. A little too young for my taste, so unfortunately I won’t be joining you for your first few breeds but maybe in future romps. However, my boys will be staying behind to make sure Wolfie gets the job done right.” The Ram began to make his exit, pausing right before he reached the doorway.

“And if he doesn’t get the job done right, my men will be sure to give you both a hands on demonstration on how to breed. And I assure you, no one breeds quite like bulls.”

The door slammed and you felt your heart drop. You looked up at Legoshi but he was refusing eye contact, his glare focused on the 2 enormous bulls on the other side of the glass who pulled up 2 chairs, waiting for the ‘show’ to start.

“Look we’re gonna give you about 15 minutes to get your shit together. Talk it out, foreplay, whatever you gotta do but if when the times up, we don’t see any fucking, we’re coming in and I’ve got a hard-on you wouldn’t believe, sweetheart,” One of the goons smirked, winking at you. You dropped your head in disgust.

“Legoshi, what are we gonna do?” You whined, tugging at his sleeve.

“I- I don’t know,” he covered up his face with the one hand you weren’t clinging to for dear life.

“I don’t want them to... to...” you couldn’t even say it, which in a way felt worse and somehow darkened the atmosphere even more.

“Legos-

“TEN MORE MINUTES,” The bull called and you felt a chill run down your spine.

“Look Legoshi, we don’t have a choice, your going to have to-

“Don’t! Don’t say it!”

“Legoshi look at me!” He forced himself to finally face you. “You’re going to have to fuck me. We don’t have a choice in this and we can’t wait around anymore. Just... I don’t know, close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else if you have to. We just have to get the job done,” you lamented, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“What- what if I hurt you?” Legoshi’s eyes softened and you caught a glimpse of the turmoil behind his eyes. You could see you needed to grant him permission.

“You could never hurt me worse than they will if they come in here. Now please Legoshi, I need you,” you could see the resolve settle in his eyes and he sighed in defeat.

“Should I... or did you...? Your, um, clothes,” he said gesturing to your uniform.

“Oh, um, I guess whatever will get you going,” Legoshi seemed torn so you decided to proceed taking off your own clothes.

“C’mon, we don’t really have time for this. What can I do to get you hard?” You asked throwing off your top and dropping your skirt.

“I-I don’t know okay...” Legoshi said as he started peeling off his own clothes.

“Legoshi.... are you? Are you a-

“FIVE MINUTES RUNTS!”

“Yeah I am,” he cringed kicking his shoes off. He seemed mortified.

“Wow I never would have imagined,”

“It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No! It’s not pathetic at all, I’m one too. I just thought... I mean look at you, you’re the farthest thing from unattractive. And then you’re so.... well... such an ideal partner, especially in the Carnivore community, not to mention your kind of mysterious which is also desirable to most girls on top of being so kind and considerate so I just naturally assumed....” you trailed off when you noticed he was undressed already except for his underwear, taking in everything you said with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry! I’m just rambling because I’m nervous.” You unclasped your bra, revealing your chest to all three of the small audience. You heard a lewd whistle from one of the Ram’s henchmen.

“Let the show begin Sugartits, and you better make it a good one!” The Bulls roared with laughter. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before you dropped to your knees in front of Legoshi.

“W-what are you doing?” Legoshi gasped, his ears and tail nearly standing on end.

“This won’t work out for either of us if you’re soft,” you said yanking down his underwear. To your surprise, though not at maximum potential, he was far from ‘soft’.

You took his awakened member into you hands and pumped it twice before capturing the head between your lips. He was warm, oh so warm. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, the sensation in turn causing him to tremble.

He began to really grow in your mouth, it seemed as if the more you took of him, the more there was. You began to really get into it, using both hands to pump him while taking as much as you could down your throat. You had never been in this position before so you glanced up to see if he was even enjoying this only to find him with both his hands placed firmly behind his back, his teeth gritted.

“Legoshi...” you called in a thick voice that came out lustier than you intended, “relax, you’ve got to enjoy this to some degree of we’re going to get you to cum.”

You released his pulsating member and stood up, so that you could pull his towering frame down to lay on the ground. It was easier said than done but once he laid down, you mounted him.

“Calm down, Legoshi. Forget about them, okay? It’s just us here,” you whispered, nuzzling into his neck, hoping to calm him down. You were met with a strained growl in return. He was still holding back.

Your knowledge of sex education began and ended with sexual relations between Dogs, however, your own curious nature had more often than not tempted your porn searches towards the Wolf genre which was shockingly similar. You desperately tried to rack your brain to think of what to do in this situation but in almost every instance of a domesticated canine and a Wolf, there was very little for the canine to do other than simply.... submit. And that was exactly what you were going to do.

“Legoshi... let it out. You don’t have to hold back. I’m ready for you to take me,” you moaned, nipping along his jawline.

In an instance you were on your back. Legoshi hovered above you and you could tell something in him snapped. He was ready to finally let the Wolf take over.

He practically ripped your underwear off your body, prying your legs open and inhaling a long, pointed whiff of your natural essence. He started salivating immediately, seeming almost intoxicated off your sent alone.

He dove right in, not wasting a second in tasting you. His growls became louder as he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he growled against your sex before diving back in. You moaned as your paws found their way into the fur on his head, tugging lightly. If Legoshi was anywhere near inexperienced, he definitely wasn’t showing it.

His tongue pulled you closer and closer to the edge until you felt yourself go lightheaded. You could feel your orgasm already at its brink.

“Legoshi,” you moaned, your grip on his fur brutal as you came in ecstasy. Legoshi finally rose, his eyes feral with need. He wasted no time aligning himself with your entrance before he began to stretch you out as slowly as he could being this consumed with lust.

His growl was absolutely menacing as he bottomed out inside you, your body feeling full to the brim. He started off with a few weak thrusts before the sensation drove him to increase to a near bruising speed.

You were in heaven at the foreign feeling of being connected with another animal in such a primal way. It was like Legoshi was everywhere, hovering above you, caging you between his massive arms while he harrowed at your womb.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm he’d given you so the second one came suddenly, catching you completely by surprise. You cried his name in a strained, desperately horny voice that sounded almost nothing like you.

Legoshi’s thrusts became harder, with more force as his knot began to lock into place. With a few more pumps, he came with a howl, his body locked into yours by the swollen knot. You both caught your breath as the reality of the situation began to dawn on the two of you again.

“Shit, Y/N are you okay? Did I hurt you?” His exhausted eyes filling with a light panic. You brought your hand to the side of his face to stroke his fur in an attempt to calm him. From the way he nuzzled into your hand, you’d say that it worked.

“I’m fine, Legoshi. More than fine. That was.... incredible,” you didn’t miss the way his tail began to wag at the praise.

“Y/N, I-” he was cut off by the sound of the door slamming. You both looked over to see the Ram’s henchmen had taken their exits, their jobs done.

Your eyes began to feel low, and you struggled to keep them open. Legoshi noticed your spent state and wrapped his arms around you, flipping the the two of you so that you were lying on his chest. You buried your face into his soft as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Y/N.... I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now...” was the last thing you heard before slumber claimed you, Legoshi’s confession falling of deaf ears.

#beastars #legoshi x reader #legoshi #beastars legoshi #beastars legoshi x reader #legoshi x you

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monstersdownthepath · 3 years ago

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Spiritual Spotlight: Hanspur, the Water Rat (and Ashkaelae)

Chaotic Neutral God of Rivers, River Travel, and Smugglers

Domains: Chaos, Death, Travel, Water Subdomains: Exploration, Murder, Rivers, Trade

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 58~63

Obedience: With the assistance of another priest of Hanspur or by yourself, simulate the act of drowning. You can do this by fully submerging yourself in a body of water, exhaling all of your breath, and painfully inhaling water instead of air. Alternatively, you can lie on your back with your head at a lower elevation than your legs while water is slowly poured on your face and up your nose. If you choose the latter method, you must cover your face with a cloth while the water is poured. When you conclude this simulated drowning, contemplate your life and how your goals coincide with the teachings of Hanspur and the Six River Freedoms. Benefit: You gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus on Survival checks attempted while on or near rivers.

Just reading this makes my sinuses burn and my lungs itch, and not just because it’s springtime and I have allergies! As anyone who’s ever been in a body of water large enough to slap their face with a wave can attest to, inhaling large amounts of water sucks. While this Obedience requires only one wet breath, some... well, some pretty severe complications can arise from it, if your DM ponders even slightly what doing this to yourself every day would do. Dry drowning and secondary drowning are both real dangers from brief immersion, let alone concentrated efforts at simulating one of the worst fates someone can experience (I say this a lot but basically anything that deprives you of air is pretty terrible). The ‘simulation’ will likely only last a few seconds while the rest of the hour is spent recovering from your experience and meditating, but even that may not be enough to offset the fluid likely building up in your lungs. Priests of Hanspur must sound atrocious, coughing themselves ragged every day! No wonder it’s recommended your ritual is overseen by another priest, either, because they’d likely be skilled in helping you manage your symptoms.

Dangers of daily drownings aside, keeping up with the demands of this ritual is pretty easy so long as you’re somewhere with easy access to water. In Hanspur’s homelands, the River Kingdoms, this is pathetically simple! Everywhere else? It’s a lot harder! While I do appreciate that there’s a secondary ritual you can do if total immersion is impossible, but what happens if you’re stuck somewhere with no easy water access? Your waterskins won’t carry you for very long, even if you pilfer them from your party as well. Better invest in a Decanter of Endless Water! Or do something ridiculous like fill the party’s Bag of Holding up so you can just hop in and out whenever you need to.

That benefit is also the weakest I’ve seen in a long time, granting a bonus to only a single skill type and only while near rivers. Survival checks aren’t even all that commonly made, unless your DM is kind enough to let you use Survival to navigate with river rafts rather than Profession or Ride checks. Hanspur really doesn’t want his faithful straying too far from the River Kingdoms, which is only further exacerbated by how his Boons work, so if you’re not the type to linger near rivers you may just want to skip him entirely.

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: River Sage. Gain Hydraulic Push 3/day, River Whip 2/day, or Hydraulic Torrent 1/day.

Hydraulic Push and Hydraulic Torrent live in the same niche of “giant water spouts what push stuff around,” with Torrent being obviously an order of magnitude more powerful than Push. While Push has a range of Close and can target only a single creature or square, Torrent is a 60ft line that Bull Rushes or attempts to destroy everything it encounters, so it really depends on if you’re thinking you’ll need three small streams or one really, really big one. Notably, Torrent can Bull Rush targets of any size, unrestricted by the limits of your pathetic frame, while Push contains no such limiter removal and thus likely means you can only blast creatures up to a size larger than you.

Also of note, Torrent attempts to shatter everything it comes into contact with until it runs into something or someone it cannot destroy or push past. The Strength score the Torrent uses is equal to your caster level plus your casting ability modifier, meaning it will start out barely stronger than you are but will eventually be able to punch holes in iron and shatter stone. Hell, with a lucky roll, it may be able to do that anyway. Your choice on which two to take wholly depends on if you want to push three Medium critters around or launch one Colossal one.

What? River Whip? I don’t see any spell like that here! Lets move on! (alright alright; i just don’t like it. it’s good as an emergency weapon but more or less anything else is better in any scenario)

Boon 2: River Scion. As a free action you can breathe underwater, as if affected by Water Breathing, for a number of hours per day equal to the number of Hit Dice you possess. These hours need not be used consecutively, but must be used in 1-hour increments.

A disappointingly weak Boon. Really, what else is there to see or say? If you need to go underwater, this ability is great and has zero downsides. If you don’t, this Boon doesn’t exist. It’s a very binary Boon that relies on your environment, which means that if you’re overjoyed if you’ve remained in the River Kingdoms, but in a desert or jungle or mountain peak, you’re going to be extremely disappointed upon hitting level 11.

Boon 3: River’s Embodiment. 1/day as a standard action, you can transform yourself into a Huge water elemental, as per Elemental Body IV. You can stay in this form for 1 minute per Hit Die you possess, and can dismiss this effect as a free action.

Finally, a transformation ability that doesn’t suck! What does suck is that this is a level 7 spell being granted to you 1/day, when other Boons are equivalent to level 9 spells in power. Hanspur could have at least given you a little bonus on top of it, or made it 2/day, but it’s hard to complain about the force you become under Elemental Body IV. You become immune to bleed, critical hits, Sneak Attacks, and on top of it all get insurmountable DR 5, and the stack of stats you get? Mmmm-mm! Chef’s kiss!

+6 AC, +8 Con, +4 Str, all for the price of -2 Dex (more than made up for with the +AC). And, of course, a swim speed and the power to collapse yourself into a destructive Vortex, but those are only useful if you’re in water, while the rest of the stat buffs are far more universally useful. You’re not exactly the destructive and terrifying Fire Elemental or the deceptively sneaky Earth Elemental, but a wall of surging water can still wreak all manner of havoc on your enemies, your new dual slams able to smash ships (and bones) to pieces, and since Water Elementals are capable of speech and gesture, you can merely bask in your new tank stats while still casting spells.

There’s also the much more amusing but niche use of transforming while already polymorphed by a hostile effect, as having a new polymorph effect used on you while you’re already changed can end the first automatically.

While I wish the effect was usable more often, or at least broken into 1-minute increments, I can’t call it a bad Boon by any means.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: River Guide. Gain Obscuring Mist 3/day, Haunting Mists2/day, or Aqueous Orb 1/day.

I love the name of this ability because two of the three spells do the opposite of guiding people. Now I’m a big fan of Obscuring Mist; it’s a simple staple in my list for almost every caster I make just because of how versatile it is! But now that I know there’s an alternative, it may have competition. Both Obscuring Mist and Haunting Mists do roughly the same thing, but one could argue that Haunting Mists does it better; in addition to granting concealment and shutting off an enemy’s eyes, it deals 1d2 Wisdom damage and shakes up anyone starting their turn inside the mist... But as a Figment spell with the Fear descriptor, there are a great many creatures immune to its unique power, and True Seeing allows one to see through it perfectly, whereas Obscuring Mist remains impenetrable to the apex predator of the Illusion school.

While it cannot be dispelled by wind or motion like a tangible fog, it’s important to note that there’s no way to protect specific creatures from the sanity-damaging effects of Haunting Mists, and its casting distance of 20ft and 20ft spread means that you will likely always be caught in its radius. The range means using it offensively is painfully limited, unless you want to cast it from invisibility after sneaking into the middle of an enemy formation, which... you probably, definitely don’t want to make a habit of.

It’s great for covering your retreat, but not your advance or setup like the normal Mist is.

Aqueous Orb is a good choice if your party is getting screwed over by the mist more than the enemy, creating a big ol’ 10ft ball of water that intercepts and engulfs anything that moves into it, or which it moves into. It deals 2d6 nonlethal damage whenever it rams into a creature and a further 2d6 to everything it has engulfed each round, but the damage isn’t so much the main draw as the fact it’s a massive, roving Sphere of Grappling, snaring and drowning any creature it manages to get ahold of if they fail the Reflex save. It’s a fun little spell that’s great for mopping up and controlling minions, especially ones you don’t actually want to kill, and even at its worst it can become a makeshift barrier in a narrow hallway since there’s no written way to actually move through it beyond wasting 2, 3, or more rounds by slamming into it and swimming through to the other side while your party books it in the other direction.

Boon 2: River Traveler. As a free action, you can grant yourself and any allies within 30 feet of you a swim speed of 60 feet. This effect lasts for 1 round per Hit Die you possess or until you dismiss it as a free action, whichever comes first. Your allies must remain within 30 feet of you or lose this benefit. In addition, you gain a +2 profane or sacred bonus on saves against spells with the Water descriptor.

See, this should have been added to River Scion as a bonus. River Scion and River Traveler feel like they could have combined into a single Boon to make something decent, but as it is they both fall into the same niche: Solves the encounter they’re meant to solve, useless otherwise. This ability is noteworthy for having no restrictions about how many times it can be used, essentially letting you switch swimming off and on at will. The fact it doesn’t take an action is incredibly important, because using the massive 60ft swim speed the ability grants actually removes the bonus, as getting further than 30ft from you makes it fizzle.

I don’t really understand why it would grant 60ft of movespeed if they’re restricted to a 30ft bubble, nor do I understand the purpose of the bubble in the first place. It makes exploration a slog, and escape scenarios more finicky than they should be. Since it can be activated whenever you need to as a free action, the duration feels unneeded. There’s so much about this ability that conflicts with itself that it bugs me too much to say much in the way of positives. The +2 to saves vs Water spells is a fun little ribbon, though most Water spells tend to be harmless utility spells rather than ones you’d need to make a save against.

Boon 3: River’s Depths. 1/day as a standard action, you can cause one creature within 30 feet to begin drowning, filling its lungs with water. The target of this ability can attempt a Fortitude save (DC = 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Wis mod) to negate the effect. If the target succeeds, it is staggered for 1 round. If it fails, the target immediately begins to suffocate. On the target’s next turn, it falls unconscious and is reduced to 0 hit points. One round later, the target drops to –1 hit points and is dying. One round after that, the target dies. Each round, the target can attempt a Fortitude save to end the effect. This ability affects only living creatures that must breathe and cannot breathe underwater. This is a curse effect.

Now this one’s just insulting, being a technically weaker version of a level 5 spell, Suffocation. It’s weaker in four ways: 1) It fails against creatures which are amphibious which, if you’re in the River Kingdoms, is many. 2) It’s curse effect, which can mean some creatures are resistant or immune to it. 3) It has a 30ft range, unlike Suffocation’s range of Close (25ft + 5ft/level). And, finally, 4) Just ONE successful save ends the effect entirely, while Suffocation continues to torment and stagger the victim for 3 rounds until its effects finally expire.

It’s hard to ignore fact that it’s a basically a Save-Or-Die with excellent DC scaling, but I can’t get over it being weaker than an existing level 5 spell! ... Granted, Suffocation could probably get away with being bumped an extra level or two higher given how frighteningly effective it is at shutting down any creature who needs to breathe even if they succeed their save. I’m probably slamming down too hard on an ability that, again, is a Save-Or-Die at best and an unavoidable stagger at worst (good for making some emergency repairs against a powerful full-attacker), and for extra fun can be used without any components involved, so you can just drop it on someone out of the blue and they’ll have no idea who just tried to kill them. While I am disappointed it doesn’t meet the power of other Boons, it’s undeniably effective against a large portion of the creatures you’ll be fighting, even at 1/day.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: River Warden. Gain Wave Shield 3/day, Masterwork Transformation 2/day, or Quench 1/day.

Wave Shield is one of those rare spells that are amazing to have, but not especially good to prepare or to waste a precious Spells Known slot on. It’s an immediate action spell that grants insurmountable DR and Fire Resistance equal to half your caster level in response to a single incoming attack, which isn’t stupendous at low levels but is a generous equivalent to immediate, on-demand temporary HP as you get higher and higher level. If a creature relies on a lot of little hits rather than a few big ones, blocking even one of them can save you in the long run, and if your DR cancels out the damage from a poisoned or diseased attack, all the better!

It’s not an especially strong spell given how it only works once before fading away, but it’s better than the other two options by a country mile. Masterwork Transformation is something you’ll rarely need more than a few times in a campaign before masterwork items fall into your laps (or you can simply buy them), and by the time you gain this ability it will likely no longer matter. That being said, if you’re in a low-wealth campaign or have been forced to scavenge for your gear, Masterwork Transformation will save you THOUSANDS of gp over the course of your life, because as a spell-like, the material components are ignored and thus you can slowly upgrade your entire party’s armaments for free. Given its ability to affect a generous 50 pieces of ammunition per casting as well means the Ranger and Gunslinger will adore you, and you can work in tandem with a mystic craftsman (PC or otherwise) to get all of your favorite gear enchanted without discarding your precious family heirloom sword for that masterwork one you looted.

Not to mention the simple joy in taking all the gear off a bandit clan, Masterworking all of it, and selling it for a tidy profit.

Compared to the combat utility of Wave Shield and noncombat utility of Masterwork Transformation, it’s hard to make a case for Quench, which falls into the category of ‘niche spell’ like Water Breathing and Water Walking in that it will instantly solve a handful of scenarios and be utterly useless in the rest. Yes, you may need to put out a forest fire or stop a building you’re in from burning to a crisp, but you’ll have to decide if it’s worth giving up three emergency DR 4/-- and Fire Resistance 4 bandages... as the martial-focused Sentinel. If you plan on fighting a fire that day or encountering a magic item that can generate fires (which Quench shuts off for 1d4 hours) and no one else in your party bothered learning Quench, by all means, but as the Sentinel having the DR is probably better in most cases.

Boon 2: River Champion. 3/day as a standard action, you can sculpt water into the form of a melee weapon that you are proficient with. You must have enough water to form the weapon, an amount equal to the weapon’s normal weight. Once formed, the weapon behaves as a weapon of its type with an enhancement bonus of +1, which increases by 1 for every 5 additional HD you have beyond 5 (max +4). This weapon deals double damage to creatures with the Fire subtype. The weapon dissolves into ordinary water after a number of rounds equal to your HD or as soon as it leaves your hand, whichever happens first.

Boons which call weapons to your hand are alright in cases where your signature weapon has been taken from you, and by the time you receive this ability you will have a signature weapon, but such times tend to come few and far between. This one also has the additional caveat that you don’t actually create the weapon from nowhere, there must already be water around to make it, at least enough water to match the weapon’s typical weight. The good news is that a gallon of water weighs about 8 pounds, and a trident--Hanspur’s holy weapon--weighs only 4, with most other weapons barely ever approaching 10, so you can reasonably carry around an emergency weapon in a waterskin or in your backpack... And you know, now that I think about it, it’s kind of cool to be able to turn a glass of water into a dagger.

But when will you need to? How often do you find yourself bereft of a usable weapon often enough to need an emergency armament like this? I can see the niche in front of me, making a new weapon as-needed against creatures whose DR makes them difficult to damage with your normal gear or taking advantage of that delicious little tidbit about doing double-damage to fire-based creatures, but they take your whole standard action to make and last for only a single combat (if that), and you can’t even shuffle around the +1 bonuses for additional effects!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s by no means bad (unless you’re both in a waterless area and haven’t filled your waterskin), especially at 3/day, but I can’t help but wonder when you’d actually need it at level 11+ when you likely already have a primary weapon and several backups.

Boon 3: River’s Renewal. When completely submerged in water, you gain Fast Healing 2. You can recover a total number of hit points equal to twice your HD in this manner each day. At 20 HD, if you fall below 0 hit points and your body is fully submerged in a river, you automatically stabilize.

As a final Boon, I wish the Fast Healing had a higher threshold than just 28 points a day (+2 per level). In combat it likely won’t matter, and while out of combat it’s a decent amount of healing, usually enough to spare a couple spell slots from your healers or some potions, it’s just not all that impressive for a third and final Boon. Sentinels are the only followers of Hanspur who don’t get some method to easily navigate the seas, so taking advantage of this Boon to its fullest extent relies on an outside method of gaining water breathing or a swim speed.

Funnily enough, you can carry around a Bag of Holding filled with water and use it as a recuperative pod in case you don’t have access to a deep puddle, which is dubiously useful but not entirely terrible. HOWEVER, the little addition at the end is also a kick in the teeth; why does that only happen at level 20? Why can’t that be a base part of the Boon? It’s just insul--Wait, it only works if you’re submerged in a river, too? You can’t stabilize with some good old pond water? The mighty ocean? Can’t take a dip in a bathtub to stop bleeding out? Come on, Hanspur!!! Be a little more generous to your worshipers!

I dunno, maybe I’m underselling the out-of-combat healing this Boon offers, but it just doesn’t feel worth it to put up with the Water Rat for your entire adventuring career just for an extra 1/8th of an HP bar.

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

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noooo dont stop there lmfao who slept with the m/c first in the royal guard au? how did the others even touch on the subject of like, hey yall wanna bang? also is there angst/pining if jk is in love with namjoon but namjoon is in love with hoseok?

(this is really unedited) hmmmmmmm i think that it might have been like- Seokjin and the reader who first started to get sexually involved. since he was like the oldest one he probably felt more than a little conflicted about it. maybe during their etiquette lessons or just before, when she likes- forgets they’re supposed to have one and he walks in on her pleasuring herself.

and he knows it’s wrong- knows he could get killed for looking at the future queen like this but. “show me how to be good Seokjin- I don't want my wedding night to be my first time- I don't want him to be my first time, I want to know what it's supposed to feel like when someone cares about me” and Seokjin- Seokjin might not love you yet- but he definitely understands your desperation. hell- Seokjin is in love with 6 other people and he’s just desperate for them to all get along most days. Seokjin is definitely the one whose the most poly out of all of them.

so he shows her how it’s supposed to happen, and they both cum but no penetration happens (because Seokjin’s still a proper man down to his core), and then after I think she realizes like “fuck- I love sex? sex actually feels really good?” and she starts to slowly explore other things. Decides she actually does want to lose her virginity, not to her husband and probably has kind of a mutual virginity loss moment with Hoseok. Who regrets it a little afterward.

Only because he’s not really sure that he should have- worried that he pressured her or something and only after they talk about it do they both realize that yeah- they both wanted it and there isn’t a problem with what they did as long as her fiance Doesn't find out. and honestly, the king is often visiting his cities and out on hunting trips (where he often kills more people than game). he’s so rarely at the castle and Hoseok is more than happy to help you explore your sexuality when it mutually benefits him.

I think that Hoseok used to be a child Theif- and he had a certain amount of years that he needs to serve to not become a fugitive. and he only has a few more years before he gets his freedom. no matter the kind of bullshit that Namjoon totes about wanting to serve the crown and stay together- no. Hoseok just wants his freedom back. i think maybe namjoon confessed to hoseok recently- and hoseok didn’t take it well. before that hoseok would always try to convince namjoon to run away with him and namjoon would always try to convince hoseok to stay but the fact that namjoon’s in love with him- would feel alot like betrayl to hoseok because namjoon hadn’t been honest.

then he realizes- even after you get married- if you still want him the same way you do now he might have it in him to be something of a courtesan if he so desired. Not that the king would like that very much- it might be beneficial to him to be in your favor in the courts. maybe he could make a name for himself.

of course, he eventually grows to love you- but it complicates his whole situation with Namjoon. because Namjoon’s been in love with him since they where children and while they all fool around (because they all have sex drives and urges that need to be fufilled and long since had the agreemend of helping each other out) making ties isn’t apart of the plan. i picture namojoon peppering kisses and “im sorry’s” down hoseoks chest one night and hoseok kind of melting.

but slowly- when Hoseok starts to see the way you look at each other- when Namjoon’s hand touches yours he starts to get jealous and he’s not sure who of- he finds himself going harder with Namjoon at night, and then fucking you equally as hard and passionately with you in the morning. even when he and Jungkook fool around, trading mouths and hands in a way that seasoned lovers only do.

maybe thats a bit of an i’m sorry in its self- jungkook knows it’s not hoseoks fault- hoseok is beautiful and charming and like sunshine- anyone could fall in love with him. jungook gets why namjoon loves him- he really does- hoseok’s so easy to love. and the affection in jungkook’s eyes weighs on hoseok. he’s not used to strings keeping him places but something in all of you keeps him here. there is somethings squirming under hoseok’s skin and he doesn't realize it until one evening when you talk with Seokjin, Hoseok standing at the door.

“he’s coming home tomorrow night to help with the wedding, I guess we’ll have to postpone our usual etiquette lesson as he’s already written he’s coming to my chambers that night” and Hoseok- Hoseok is just enraged- sitting by the door- at the thought of your husband touching you the way the 7 of them do- enraged at all of it being outside of his control and suddenly- hoseok gets it. he dosent want you to marry your husband. he doesn't want you to have to go through any of it. he wants to preserve the balance you’re starting to have. he’s in love with you and he’s staying- he’ll see this through.

i think the sex with the others kind of starts in a different way, more of a sensual way. maybe one day they go for a horseback ride and she convinces them to swim in a secluded part of the river and though she keeps her underdress on they can still see all of her body through the thin fabric. and tae wishes for once that he wasn’t so obviously large. because he’s Poking out of his pants and he knows you see his errection, jimin licking his lips as he looks at it across the stream. cocking his eyebrows at him in question.

you catch him staring. and i think maybe you tease all like “are you alright officer Taehyung? your uniform looks hot in this heat- are you sure you don’t want to cool off with me?” and he does- even under the watchful eyes of the others. and it's only because it’s Jimin and Seokjin that they watch- that tae feels brazen enough to touch you, finding your wetness under the water and pressing with the pads of his rough fingers in a way that he knows feels good. the same way he fingered jimin open this morning, a look says that seokjin and jimin are staring and squirming. E

specially at the way you’re touching tae- the water warm in the summer heat and so slick against his skin. And though jimin and tae are lovers- there isn’t any mistaking the looks in their eyes. jimin and seokjin want to ravage you and then each other.

on the way home, you ride in between jimin’s legs on his horse because you’re a little wobbly-legged after taking taehyung (the largest out of all of them- a true big dick) and jimin just wants to run his nose along your shoulder- leaving little kisses that make you jump. little whispers in your ear “you looked so pretty together- makes me want to put on a show just like you did for Seokjin” a sharp look at seokjin says that he told- and honestly you’re not suprised. it’s no secret that they’re all involved.

and maybe jimin’s hand slowly comes down between her legs a little, rubbing slow teasing circles through her clothes to tease her. enough that by the time she’s getting off the horse she’s stumbling into Jungkook’s chest by the stables. “come kookie- our lady is tired and must return to her rooms” no one bothers to mention that Jimin’s shift is over.

i think the last one to bed the reader is yoongi- probably soon after her wedding and the first time she and him are alone together without any of the others. yoongi is particularly reserved and i picture him kissing the Backs of her hands and then each of her fingers in the candlelight and slowly grabbing at the ribbons on her dress. and he’s angry- angry that he couldn’t taste her before the king had a chance. though he’s gone away and left her here again. left her to be lonely and left her all for them. and yoongi won’t miss his chance this time.

“its time for you to get ready for bed my queen- let me help you” and he undresses her so so slowly and carefully and then sits her back and slowly enters her. treats her like a husband should on her wedding night, gentle and at her pace. so loving and slow and full of needy breaths and aching touches. thats the first time it’s making love with any of you- because yoongi loved her right from the begining.

i imagine him kissing down her stomach murmuring against her skin “he dosent deserve you”

“the king or the others?”

“both- neither- no one”

her gripping his hair, “what about you then?”

and yoongi means it when he looks up at her “least of all me” but thats something that she can fix. the way he dosent feel deserving of it all or any of it at all. ive got like- maybe a whole idea for yoongi’s chareter arc in this.

#Anonymous

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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Hi I just want to ask something. Do you think Jungkook has been always like/love Jimin the way he is before or just when he started to glow up. I'm just asking this bc you know Jungkook has been always rank Jimin last on looks or said he look different without makeup before. I know he didn't meant harm to Jimin but do you think Jimin has been trying to look good and go on extreme diet to be loved by Jungkook or Jungkook has been always trying to hide his feelings for him but act tough

Huh?...

What an interesting question....

For a moment there I thought I had already discussed this in my blog posts? Chileee.

Now you'd have to specify which period in time you consider a glow up point for Jimin. Do you mean the period of 2014/15 when he was starving himself, passing out on stage and bleeding through his nose to stay anorexic? *Side eyeing you.

To me, Jimin's 'glow up' coincided with their debut in 2013. Those fine abs, sculpted muscles yet soft toned feminized features- sorry Jimin, you weren't fooling no one.

This was also the period I noticed JK showing overt signs of sexual and emotional attraction towards Jimin. Jimin just seemed oblivious to it. And he would begin his own whipped journey around 2015/16 in my opinion.

Personally, I believe JK fell first for Jimin and 'turned' him- turned for lack of a better word. I don't buy into this whole Jimin fell first JK fell harder rhetoric.

But I think JK's interest in Jimin began long before this period. I don't think Jk had fully grasped the concept of his own sexuality much less to have come to terms with it in any time before 2012- before Jimin arrived in Bangtan- ok maybe he had a vague idea of it, but I do believe Jimin was his sexual and romantic awakening.

Jk and Jimin have two very distinct and opposite idol personas. I keep saying this.

Since we don't know them in person, I think it's safe to assume every aspect of them we experience on screen is a persona.

That persona is a facade, a curated wall on which they project bits and pieces of their true self and often put up a performance of this identity for our consumption.

In Jk's persona, he likes to retract and conceal aspects of his true personality and censor himself a lot while JM likes to amplify and exaggerate his true personality and put up a performance of it.

As I've said, it's mainly due to their backgrounds. JK was given a lot of leeway in his upbringing which he feels puts him at a disadvantage because he ends up exposing himself too much. Thus he likes to retract and hold himself back.

Jimin coming from a conservative background with many rules and what not revels in the new found freedom Idol life gives him so often he doesn't hold back as much as JK does. But that doesn't mean that who they really are in real life.

So often you'd hear people say Jimin looks more serious in person than he does on camera while JK is said to be more expressive than he usually is on camera.

But here is the thing, concealing his feelings is not JK's nature it's his choice. And this is very important to note. He chooses not to do certain things on camera while Jimin chooses to do certain things on camera.

So when JK is not showing his feelings for Jimin it's not because he can't show those feelings, it's more like he doesn't want to show those feelings.

Thus when people say he wasn't showing his feelings for Jimin because he was shy I raise my brows- Shy my ass. Lol

Was he acting tough then? Hmmmm. He likes to act tough no two ways about that. I've said he has a good poker face between him and Jimin. If you are not careful you might think he doesn't like Jimin. But trust me, that man is whipped on god.

But I don't think that's what he was doing in those early dynamics.

I think he was hesitant in pursuing Jimin openly at the time because he wasn't sure about Jimin's sexual orientation much less whether or not Jimin reciprocated the feelings he had for him.

And you could tell not knowing these about Jimin terrified JK a lot, hence his hesitation.

But later when he was certain of both he became more confident in the way he expressed himself and his feelings for Jimin.

Prior to this you could see him fishing and testing the waters with Jimin, slowly pushing Jimin's boundaries- a gentle touch here, a lingering stare there.

He would often pay attention to the things Jimin would say but especially about his romantic and sexual preferences. Like when Tae said he felt Jimin liked men and when Jimin was asked about why he liked JK and JK seemed like he wanted to know.

Then he went through that phase where he seemed obsessed with Jimin's reaction to when other guys sexualised him and expressed interest in him. He seemed very attentive to these little details in a way that seemed to me as if he was fishing for confirmation that Jimin actually liked men and liked him- in a nonplatonic manner.

I feel Jimin noticed these things too in JK but was mostly fascinated by it. So often he would go out of his way to express his sexuality, exaggerate it and perform it as if to let JK know he was ok with JK liking him in that kind of way. Often, you'd see him egging JK on to touch him where JK seemed hesitant, reassuring JK- I think y'all know the bit I'm talking about. I feel JM wanted JK to feel comfortable expressing his interest in him- he ain't slick.

I've said Jimin's persona is a performance. I can see how to JK that could be very confusing. Hell, half of the fandom still read Jimin wrong to this day. Is he gay, bi, straight, a woman, a man, bigender- it's a lot of questions. Legitimate questions.

And I think for JK, seeing Jimin behave like the rest of BTS with the skinship towards him was equally confusing. So often he would shy away from it. Jk was going through puberty, everything was heightened for him.

It's also important to consider the possibility that, if JK was LGBTQ plus that he was going to hide it and not come out to his bandmates for as long as he worked with them- because it's none of their business first and foremost but also because it would have affected their attitudes towards him.

I mean look at the fear and panic with which they greet Jikook when Jikook breath anywhere near eachother in public spaces- not to call them out or anything but I don't think if they were straight that they were going to treat them same. I mean Taejin is as wild as Jikook but.... sigh.

So then going on to catch feelings for one of such said band mates who gives off queer vibes, he had better be sure about him before coming out to him and confessing to him lest he risked his career and friendship with him.

If Jimin wasn't LGBTQ plus it would have been cruel of him to act the way he does with JK honestly. For instance Joking about marriage knowing full well the fight LGBTG plus couple have to put up to have this basic human right- of course JK would yeet himself out of that conversation. I'm talking about that Jikook Vlive and all the time JK has squeezed his face disgruntledly when Jimin has asked him to have his kids- like why Jimin!

Jimin I feel because he is Bi whatever doesn't take this gay business seriously at all. If you've ever dated a bisexual you'd know the feeling. He is my bias and I love him but God he frustrates me for Jk honestly.

What annoys me most is I know how deep he is into JK. Like I've never seen a man so in love with another man in my entire queer life! Like shut up whippidy whipped ass we saw your face at Manila. You like that man. You like him.

Let JK put up a front and you'll see this tactless homegirl descending into that space we all hate so much and embarrassing himself left right left clinging on to JK seeking validation and reassurance- like can you be serious in your life for once Park Jimin. 😒

Anywho, I went off on a tangent there. Sorry.

But yes, this is another aspect of their dynamic I feel most people get twisted. Jimin enjoys JK's expressions of interest in him- however way he does it. Jk enjoys it too when Jimin shows him he wants him. Remember magic shop? Show me, I'll show you? And that line JK sang to Jimin that made Jimin nervous on Live with VMin? Yea...

They love each other and they love when the other is showing and expressing their love. Hell, isn't that why they are constantly trying to find creative ways to communicate their love? 5/8, love letters punctuated with sorries? Chileee.

Could Jimin's look be a contributing factor to JK liking him? Let me put it this way. People are attracted to people for a plethora of reasons, physical appearance being one of them.

Looks attract people, emotional connection binds them and make them stay. I have said this time and again JK is attracted to all of Jimin-looks, everything. When asked which part of of Jimin he liked most he put all of Jimin as the answer.

With regards to JM's weight, I think the tears he shed on stage during the performance of I Need You says it all. Jimin was killing himself and it was killing JK. Jimin wasn't doing all that out of self love much less for the love of JK.

He was doing all that because he wanted to be an Idol in every sense of the word. He was killing himself for his career. A career JK was once willing to walk away from and JM advised him to stay.

Jk defies the dictates of his career with the piercings and tattoos and gay pubs- the emphasis is mine. Y'all think he is about to be demanding of his life partner to look like what now? Chileee.

And when JK was starving himself and losing weight who was it that brought him down that ledge? Jimin. If it was a positive thing I thing he would have encouraged him.

Jk allegedly called Jimin his Mochi in that infamous graduation night track video. Did you see his reaction to when James Corden called Jimin Mochi? Baby fat cheeked Jimin was cute not ugly. And even if you think he was, JK still found that attractive. Jimin could be looking like my Aunt Becky and Jk would still fuck him.

Have you seen JK freeze frame to take snapshot photos of Jimin? It's almost always pictures of Jimin looking like the wicked witch of the west. He loves him some park Jimin memes. Loves that man to death.

How many times have he said Jimin looks beautiful without makeup? Remember the Vlive Jimin didn't want to be on camera because he didn't have makeup on? What did JK say?

Jk isn't a shallow person you know. He really isn't. He doesn't strike me as the kind at all. Questions like these presupposes that JK is a vain shallow person who only likes people for their looks. Don't get me wrong, it's a valid question, one that I'm happy to discuss but it also exposes the biases against JK and indirectly, Jimin.

Do you feel JK is shallow? I find a lot of people do and it breaks my heart.

Have you heard any of his songs? His GCFs?

He barely idolizes his subject matter's looks and appearances. You gave me the best of you, so I'll give you the best of me. What I found in you is real. That's doesn't sound shallow to me.

They work in a highly competitive and highly vainglorious environment. I think they know more than anything the dangers of vanity- it's fleeting. They put themselves through so much to appease the vanity matrics, to subject people they love through the same.

I've talked about how because JM comes from a demanding home and work environment that acceptance is one key aspect of his love language. He wants a person who loves him for who he is and accepts him without placing expectations on him.

If JK was this shallow JM wouldn't honestly have found him attractive much less love him to begin with. He wouldn't have found fulfillment and nourishment from JK. He loves JK because JK's values and upbringing makes him the perfect person for him to trust himself fully to.

Besides, for JK to be only attracted to JM because he glowed up, he himself must have been a ten from the onset which he wasn't let's be honest- no shade to him but he wasn't exactly packing now was he?

BTS are pretty but they've all undergone hefty transformations throughout the years, magic foreheads and all. So if you wonder if Jimin's glow up contributes to JK liking him, then you'd have to wonder if Jk glowing up also contributed to Jimin finding him attractive- it's a vicious cycle.

As for JK ranking Jimin last... did he ever rank himself first? No. He ranked Jimin last and himself second to last consistently. If he found Jimin unattractive he certainly found himself as equally unattractive only one step above Jimin.

I honestly think he was just teasing Jimin. He loves teasing Jimin because it's how he flirts with him. It's just the masculine energy in him I guess. V does this too when he flirts with Jimin. He teases him about his pinky, his Mochi cheeks and his glow up- Iland anyone?

Why y'all think JK looked away sharp when JM dropped to the floor?? He recognized what V was doing- don't mind me. I'm trolling. Lol. But deadass.

Jimin teases JK too by acting like he is available most times. It's the feminine energy in him. Girls like to tease their crush by amplifying their sex appeal. What better way to amp up your sex appeal than by having other people show interest in you? Jimin is a tease. Bless him.

Besides, when JK ranked Jimin first in looks he ranked himself last. I hope y'all don't think it's because he has low self esteem?

He ranked himself and Jimin last because he wanted to humble himself and by extension Jimin because he sees himself as Jimin's equal and as such recognizes their place as the youngest within the group. As he has explained, as the youngest, he places everyone else above him.

I honestly don't think Jungkook had always been interested in Jimin. But somewhere along the line while he came to terms with his own sexuality he began developing feelings for Jimin. His glow up had nothing to do with it. In my opinion.

I think Jimin caught him off guard? It's that red string serendipity destiny voodoo working its magic that orchestrating their love. In my opinion.

I don't think either of Jikook went searching for this love thingy either as I keep saying. It wasn't planned, it wasn't foreseen, it just happened to both of them but at a different pace.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikook theories #kookmin analysis #kookmin #kookmintheories #jikook analysis #jikook scenarios #jikooktheories #Ask response #ask goldy #GOLDY #nightswithkookmin

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Love; Lost

John Wick x reader (A/n- flashbacks indicated with italics.) (A/n2- I have ideas for this to be turned into a thing, maybe a couple other parts, but I’m not really sure about it yet. Maybe. We’ll see.)

Warnings- Angst.

Sniffling, Y/n straightened her back, swiping at her eyes. In the foyer, the last of her packed bags awaited her. She couldn’t believe it; it was really over. The past five years reduced to nothing, they were parting ways, and neither of them could believe it.

“You don’t have to go,” John managed, sounding defeated, like he couldn’t even believe his own words. Maybe it was because he knew that they weren’t true; he and Y/n were from vastly different worlds. Being a killer, a hunter was all he knew, it was in his nature. But Y/n, she wasn’t like that, she was a free spirt, the woman who wanted to travel the world without death and danger looming at every corner.

John had stifled her, that’s what he had done At least, that’s what she had told him. He had spent so long trying to protect her, shielding her from the worst parts of his life that he had forgotten to love her. Or let her love him.

“Yes I do,” Y/n nodded stiffly, fighting emotion, not wanting to break down again. If she did, he might hold her, and if he held her, Y/n wouldn’t leave. It had already taken every bit of will she had to pack up her stuff. John wasn’t even supposed to be back until after she had left, but he had gotten in early, all in an attempt to surprise her.

1 Hour Earlier Most of it was in her car already, though, the last of her bags had yet to be taken out. On the center of the made California king was the handwritten note she was going to leave him. It wasn’t the way to bring an end to such a long, committed relationship, but Y/n didn’t think there was any other way she’d go through with it. One look at John while trying to tell him that she couldn’t stay might have her changing her mind. Y/n didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had to.

Things had been changing between them, and for a while, Y/n had been feeling more like John’s charge than his girlfriend. Lately, he had been treating Y/n more like a damsel in need of protecting, and while before, she didn’t mind, she could no longer find the love in his gestures. She didn’t want to be an obligation, or the girl he worried about while they were apart, Y/n wanted to be an equal in their relationship.

They had been drifting for a while by then; John was gone more often than not, and even when he was there, he was so focused on keeping her safe, reminding her of what they couldn’t do, that being with him felt like being with a bodyguard. No parks because there were too many unchecked spaces, no double dates with her friends because he didn’t want to put them in danger and no meeting his friends because they were too dangerous.

There was so much between them; secrets, sometimes continents and always a barrier that kept John from truly letting her in. He and Y/n had lived together for the past three years, and still, she had barely any clue of how entrenched he was in the criminal underworld. Sure, she knew that he was an assassin, and that he’d worked for a Russian mob in the past, but that was about it. He’d leave and never tell her where he was going, only to come back weeks later bruised and broody.

The more and more Y/n thought about it, the more her mind insisted that it was time to leave. She’d always love John, with everything she had in her, but she wasn’t willing to be with someone who couldn’t be as open as she was. Their relationship felt one sided, broken somehow.

As she packed up the last of her things, Y/n gave the bedroom one final glace, saddened at how it now looked; half of it’s personality gone. Her things no longer sat comfortably next to his; none of her clothes mixing with John’s in the hamper, her beauty products no longer lingered next to his after shave in the bathroom and her nightstand was bare, save for a lamp that matched the one on John’s. Pictures were still littered around the room though, in frames on the surfaces and hanging on the walls, just like they were around the rest of the house. Y/n loved pictures; the best memories saved for eternity, it was why she had become a photographer. It was how she had met John.

Looking at the little moments saved in time stung her heart and tears prickled at her eyes, prompting her to gather her bags and leave the room, though, her plans were interrupted, the note on the bed made mute.

“You’re leaving?” John asked, his brows knitted with confusion, his tired features further pulled by hurt.

“I.......” Y/n licked her lips nervously, her heart thumping anxiously against her chest. She hadn’t accounted for the possibility of having to face him; she didn’t want confrontation, or to see the look of hurt on his face, or being given the opportunity to stay. “I am,” looking away, Y/n tried to contain her emotions, how could doing what was best feel like a knife to the gut?

Watching her stand at the door, their door, was starting to become too much for John. Y/n couldn’t leave; didn’t she know that she was everything to him? The glue holding his sanity together, the only person he’d ever felt real love from, the only person he had ever loved. And now she was leaving. Because of him. Because he had failed her.

“You don’t love me,” Y/n breathed, eyes shining with tears, that otherwise, he’d have wiped away, “At least, it doesn’t feel like it.”

“No, Y/n,” John’s voice caught somewhere in his throat. All he wanted was for things to be fixed, for everything to be okay, “I love you, I’ve always loved you,” since the day they had met probably.

“Yeah?” Y/n chuckled humorlessly, “It doesn’t feel like that,” sighing heavily, she sniffled, “It feels like you’re suffocating me sometimes, I can barely leave this house without you worrying, we never go out anymore, you don’t even call when you leave. How’s that love?”

John shook his head slowly. He hadn’t meant to have Y/n think that he didn’t love her, he just thought that these things were best for her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t his place to decide that. “I only wanted to protect you, because I love you. I love you,” he repeated, a new firmness in the words, “And if something happened to you......if I couldn’t keep you safe....”

“I didn’t need your protection!” Her voice rose without warning, making them both jump; the sight was alarming; seeing the Boogeyman's shoulders shake in surprise, “I never needed....” It was a fight to contain a nearly escaped sob, and when Y/n cast her head down, she had to squeeze her eyes shut, “I never needed you to protect me, I just needed you to love me,” Y/n voice broke, and John felt his heart break even more, “And let me love you back.”

The whole thing kept going on, over and over, in John’s head, like a broken record meant to shatter his glass heart. “Please,” taking a step towards Y/n, John felt like his soul was being ripped apart when she evaded his touch. “Please just stay, I’ll be better,” he bargained, knowing that he’d change everything about his life if it would mean that he could spend the rest of it with her, “You want me to leave? I’ll get out, leave that behind. You want space, freedom? Then I’ll give it to you. We’ll go somewhere where no one knows us, and we’ll be safe, you can open a gallery, like you always wanted to, and I’ll find work, and we can-”

“No,” Y/n determined firmly, tears now running down her cheeks freely. She had never seen John like that; so frazzled, grasping for straws, eyes wide with worry and so desperate. That wasn’t the John she knew, no, her John was confident and calculated, a man who didn’t say much and who never let his fears interrupt his hardened exterior. Seeing him like that all but literally killed Y/n. There he was, begging her to stay, willing to give up the life he’d known for almost twenty years for the woman he loved. And still, she couldn’t accept it. “It’s too late John, I’m so sorry,” she met his eyes one last time, his own pain matching her, “But I have to go.”

Exhaling quietly, his shoulders slumped, and John glanced at a picture in a little silver frame, sitting on a long table against the wall, it was surrounded by several others, along with other little trinkets, but somehow, that one stuck out.....

2 Years Ago “What are you doing?” John laughed, still trying to fit the last of their things into the trunk of his Mustang. He was beginning to think that they were leaving the little rented cabin in upstate New York with more than they had taken with them; he simply couldn’t make everything fit.

From the side, definitely not helping the situation, Y/n giggled, professional camera still held up to her face as she continued snapping pictures that he could only hope she would delete on the drive back; she couldn’t have gotten any good ones. The humid summer air was making some of John’s hair stick to his face and neck and he highly doubted that his frustrated expression was even remotely photogenic. “I’m taking pictures,” she laughed, explaining as if it were completely obvious, “You’re like; a fucking male model,” Y/n teased.

“Yeah, whatever,” John tried to sound annoyed, but couldn’t help but smile. “You know that’s not helping, right? I mean, these are your bags, and you’re just standing there, taking pictures,” he teased. With an exasperated sigh, John stopped for a minute, straightening up and looking at Y/n, amusement still twinkling in his eyes, though years of practice giving him an opportunity to hide it everywhere else. “Y/n,” her warmed, only semi-sternly, “I’m serious, this stuff isn’t gonna fit, and I look like shit.”

Rolling her eyes and lowering the camera, Y/n still smiled, slowly approaching him, “Relax,” she eased, removing the thick fabric strap from around her neck, resting the device on top of a bag in the open trunk, “We’ll just stuff the rest of it in the back seat. Also,” she chortled, wrapping her delicate arms around his neck, leaning into John’s strong chest, “You look pretty sexy all sweaty and annoyed like that,” standing on the tips of her toes, Y/n pressed a kiss to John’s lips. Readily, he reciprocated, his arms snaking around her, his fingers slipping under the hem of her loose t-shirt; calloused fingers sending electricity up her spine.

“I love you,” John mumbled against Y/n’s lips. He was typically very guarded with the words, though Y/n didn’t need to hear it often to remember how he felt; it was in everything else, his touch, the habit he’d made of waking up extra early when she slept over, just to make her coffee and how he’d press his forehead to hers after a lingering kiss. John was a man of action, and when he was with Y/n, his actions were always enough to remind her that there wasn’t a man that could love her more than John Wick.

Smiling tenderly, Y/n’s fingers toyed with the ends of John’s dark locks, “I love you too.” Turning, he leaned on the back of the car, nearly as tall as the open trunk, and Y/n was sunken into his front. For a while, they exchanged long, sweet kisses, each one filled with more love than they last. “They said that we need to clear out by noon,” Y/n reminded John, pulling away reluctantly.

Groaning, John let his hands skim her back one last time before letting Y/n go, “I remember.” Slowly, they finished up the packing, and when the last of it was in the car, John closed down the back, “Ready?”

For a moment, Y/n thought on his question, before her eyes widened with realization, “No!” She frowned, “We haven’t taken any pictures.”

“If I remember correctly,” John teased, strolling towards her, his large hands landing on her hips, “You took quite a few earlier.”

“No,” Y/n sighed, “I mean we haven’t taken any together, and it’s so beautiful out here.”

“Well, we were pretty busy,” John kissed the side of Y/n’s head and she caught his bicep as he tickled her sides. The memories of the week gone by were still fresh in both their minds; they had planned so much, a picnic near the lake, a day spent in the small town and a hike on a secluded nature trail, though it had all gone out the window the minute they unlocked the cabin doors and the only exploring Y/n and John did was of each other.

When they settled, Y/n gently pushed away from John, “Well, we have to take at least one, please?” She offered him her best puppy eyes, knowing full and well that John always had a hard time saying to ‘no’ to her. Throw in big doe eyes and he was definitely a goner.

“Fine, but with your phone, we already packed up your camera,” John ducked into the passenger seat, getting out Y/n’s large tote bag, handing it over.

Scoffing playfully, she hastily took the bag, “I will do no such thing! We’ll use this,” and from her bag, she produced polaroid camera. John knew it well; it had been his gift to her on their first anniversary and Y/n had grown quite attached to it. Though, he didn’t have the slightest clue that she’d brought it along on their little getaway. Quickly, she set it up on the roof of his car, setting the timer, giving them a couple minute to get organized.

They stood a few feet in front of it, John hugging Y/n from behind, her hands grasping his arms. The flash was just a couple seconds from going off, when at the very last minute, John lifted her off the ground, planting his lips on Y/n’s neck. Throwing her head back, Y/n laughed wildly, her eyes screwed shut with sheer joy.

When John set her down, Y/n playfully swatted at his shoulder, “That picture is probably ruined,” she pouted. Though, by the time she was at the camera, the picture had already cleared up and was drying; and as it turned out, it was one of the best pictures they’d ever take together.

“Okay,” John swallowed tightly. He wanted, more than anything, to work things out with Y/n. She was the love of his life, his dawn at the end after the darkest night, his harbor in the storm. And he wanted so badly, to be that for her too. In fact, up until the moment he got home to her car parked in the driveway and the last of Y/n’s packed bags in the hallway, John had thought he was that. But John loved her more than he wanted to be her knight in shining armor, he always would, so if loving Y/n meant that he’d have to accept that he wasn’t what she wanted, what was best for her, then he’d painfully learn to accept it, even if it felt like it would be the death of him.

With tear stained cheeks and red eyes, Y/n nodded, “Okay,” Picking up the last of her things, she turned the knob of the door and John swore that it felt like a dagger was turning in his chest. No longer able to contain her quiet sobs, Y/n managed, “Goodbye John.”

He tried to say it back, John really, really tried, but the words wouldn’t come. And dragging himself behind her, moving to lean on the door frame was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He watched her go, wishing that he could just reach out and take Y/n into his arms, promise to never, ever make the same mistakes again, but he couldn’t. So, feeling the hole in his heart grow with each step she took, John tried to offer up the next best thing, three little words that he hardly ever said, but a fact that he needed her to remember, even if it wouldn’t change a thing, “I love you Y/n.” Quiet tears fell from his eyes and John ran hand though his hair, trying to slow his breaths.

Stopping in her tracks, Y/n turned back to John, offering him one last, broken look, “I love you too John.” After a couple seconds, Y/n turned away, walking towards the car, tossing the bags into the back seat. Even as Y/n got into the car, turning the key in the ignition, sobs racked her frame and every cell in her body screamed that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, that she should go back and mend things with John. But at that point, Y/n dismissed the matter as her heart trying to overrule her mind, and for once, Y/n didn’t listen to it as she pulled the door closed and backed out of the drive way, putting her life with John in the rearview.

John watched Y/n’s car disappear with distance, his world crumbling. Just like that, it was over, they were over. It took a while, but eventually, John was blindly making his way to what used to be their shared bedroom, only making it there by way of muscle memory. When he closed the door behind him, it didn’t take much to notice just how excruciatingly empty the room felt, how much of a hollowed shell it seemed. Sure, some mocking pictures remained, but suddenly, it was like John didn’t know the people in them and just a simple glance their way was like a punch in the gut.

Sinking onto the bed, John thought it felt colder that it ever had; a lot changed when you grew accustomed to the warmth brought on by someone you loved. And when that warmth was gone, as John was quickly realizing, the feeling easily paled the coldest winter nights. Swallowing tightly, he finally picked up the handwritten note that Y/n had left between their pillows, though, he couldn’t yet bring himself to read it. So instead, he just stared at her cursive on the stark white paper, his thumb tracing it, lingering over the botches where her tears had presumably fallen as she wrote.

John wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, the river from his eyes probably wearing tracks into his face, but at some point, the room dimmed significantly and he could no longer take the burning in his left pocket. Transferring the still unread letter to his right hand, John dung through his pants, eventually getting out a little, black, velvet box. It was why he had returned early, why he had called ahead to reserve a private room at her favorite restaurant. It was supposed to be the surprise that would change their lives, but there on the bed they once shared, in the house that might never feel like a home again, the glamourous diamond ring wedged comfortably between two dark cushions could only mock him; remind John that despite his best efforts to keep Y/n, he had lost her.

The glitter of the rock reflected in the low light, and feeling like there was no more love left to his name, John flipped the box closed, shutting his eyes as he laid back onto the bed, holding Y/n’s note to his chest, praying to a god that he barely believed in, begging that the last few hours would turn out a dream. Though, if it wasn’t, John hoped that he’d never wake up.

********

tagging- @harrisongslimited

#Keanu reeves #Keanu reeves x reader #Keanu reeves x you #john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #angst #Keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #john wick angst #last love song #Keanu reeves angst #fluff #fic #ff #john wick fanfiction #Keanu reeves fanfiction

209 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 4 years ago

Note

Im. I love you? Your answer to that ask is beautiful, also I forgot about the other meaning for weed for a moment and got confused like, 'is morgana-ren a stoner? Beefy weed muscles???' and now i cant help but imagine stoned Shiggy. Specifically him forcefully shotgunning his captive because hes bored and if hes getting stoned she might as well too. Laughing at her when she gets spacey. This is a fun train of thought lol, thanks for inspiring it

I am a ridiculous and incoherent person. My first instinct is to literally reply with complete gibberish to most things. Shaming me has absolutely Z E R O effect because I have no shame. I’m a ridonkulous person. Last time I got high, I just laid in bed singing “Secret tunnel, secret tunnel” for like 3 hours.

To be fair, I would also do that completely buttfuck sober.

Gods I wish I had a gif of Shig smonkin some donk wods, but since I don’t, you’ll have to settle for me writing it.

PSA after the fact: I AM SO SORRY IT GOT A LIL CREEPY BUT TO BE FAIR, IT’S ME AND IF YOU SENDIN ME SHIT YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO BE REAL FECKIN’ SPECIFIC OR ELSE I’M GUNNA MAKE IT CREEPY also weed hits me way different than it does most folks so it’s really hard for me to be able to accurately describe how it might be to anyone else. SO imagine this is supervillain quirky weed he has special made to calm his...uh,.. never ending rage. also it’s ridiculously longer than I planned. cause I get carried away. anyway love you!

His room is dank and smells like mold and must.

Tight metal bindings cut into your wrists, leaving you raw with crusted blood despite the fact you stopped fighting days ago. Your tailbone feels bruised from constantly shifting on his worn down carpet, your legs prickling and aching from inactivity.

He’s kept you bound here for a while, handcuffs looped through the foot of his bed. You’re not entirely sure how long, since his ratty blackout curtains make it hard to see daylight. He’s got them taped down, blocking out all but the tiniest slivers of light. Like most of his life, his room exists in total darkness.

Time has little meaning here.

He doesn’t leave you alone often, only really exiting the room to bring you food which you refuse to eat. Most of it has been kicked into the corner, the soft buzz of fruit flies accumulating more and more by the day. It frustrates him, but he’s keen on reminding you that he’s patient. You’ll relent eventually.

Truth be told, your willpower is starting to give. Your body is stiff and sore, head perpetually aching from crying. His moods are like whiplash, one second crooning to you how special you are to him, the next backhanding you and calling you a stubborn bitch. You don’t know what he wants from you. If the fates were merciful, he’d get it over with and just kill you.

Ending your life doesn’t seem like it’s high on his list of priorities.

He’s facing away from you now, tinkering with something on his desk by the light of his various computer monitors. You can’t make out what it is, only that he’s been at it for the past ten minutes. Grateful as you are for his lack of attention, it always makes you nervous when he gets preoccupied. It usually means he’s working on some new and exciting way to break you.

You take comfort in the momentary peace, some temporary reprieve from the invasive leer of those horrid crimson eyes scanning over you in the darkness. Whatever he’s doing, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Only steel yourself against what he gives you when he’s finished.

He reaches into his desk, pulling out a plastic bag of something you can’t make out. All you know is when you hear the ziplock open, a strange scent floods the room. It smells vaguely familiar, but between your fucked up headspace and even worse situation, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Leaning against the little metal bed leg you’re imprisoned against, you realize just how heavy your eyes are as you rest the back of your head on his threadbare mattress. Fighting off oncoming waves of pulsing anxiety takes most of your energy reserve, and bouts of sleep tend to come few and far between when you’re sleeping in the den of a predator.You’re so tired, so worn down, and you don’t know what else he could do to you that he hasn’t already done or planning to do. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t considered saying that to him, but you feel like tempting the universe or him isn’t a great idea right now. Either way, your eyelashes feel like weights dragging you under into the sea of sleep.

You’re almost there when his chair squeaks and you jolt awake, that overwhelming sense of dread coming over you. Your instincts blare and somehow you just know his eyes are on you again, waiting for you to acknowledge him. He wants your attention, and he expects you to give it.

Dragging your exhausted lids open when you know you’ll have to see that terrifying man is a burden you haven’t grown accustomed to having quite yet, but it’s one you bear anyway. Besides, you know that if he thinks you’re ignoring him, he has no problem forcing you to look at him. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. He hurts you less that way.

So you do, and just like you expected, he’s simpering down at you, holding something you can’t make out in his hands. Gulping comes on impulse; he looks far too pleased and that never bodes well for you.

“Do you know what this is?”

He holds it out and it takes you a second to make it out in the dark, but you know that basic shape.

“I-is that a pipe?”

“At least you know that much.” He gives you a cheeky lip quirk, making heat rise in your cheeks. Palming it in one hand, he uses the other to fish in his pocket, one finger carefully pulled outside the kangaroo pouch of his jacket. Following his movements, your brows furrow and curiosity almost wills you to speak. The words stall in your mouth, however, when you see him pull a cheap lighter out between two fingers.

He flicks it a few times with his thumb, sparking the light and sending small cinders dancing across the his lap. After a few tries, it finally holds. The light across his face only makes him seem all the more sinister, exacerbating the shadows that reside in the craggy, marred flesh of his cheeks. The flame dances in his pupils and the orange tinged shine glimmers off the edges of his weirdly perfect, jagged teeth. It’s extremely unsettling.

He lets the flame die, picking his pipe back up and tapping it on the desk once or twice.

“I don’t do this often. I usually prefer to keep a clear head.” He lazily arches back in his chair, inhaling the dank stench of the sticky green plant packed in his pipe before returning his gaze to you. “But in some cases, I find it can help you relax.”

Bringing the pipe to his face, he wraps his chapped lips around the bit and sparks the lighter again. You watch as the flame is sucked toward the bowl, igniting the contents and bringing them to a dull simmer.Thumb twitching on the carb and pinkie pulled away, he inhales, letting his head lull back on the seat of his chair. After a few seconds and a suppressed cough or two, he leans forward and exhales, sending a splay of thick, billowing smoke directly into your face.

You turn your head, watery eyes clinging shut, but it’s not enough to keep the acrid stench from clogging through your sinuses. It constricts your throat, compelling an instinctive cough from deep in your chest. Whatever it is he’s smoking, it’s strong.

His high pitched laugh echoes off the barren walls of his room as you scrunch your nose and try to disperse the smoke pooled in your face. When the air finally clears, he’s leaning toward you, arms resting on his knees with the pipe in one hand and his lighter in the other. The little embers still burn beneath the lip of the bowl, little grey spirals rising up from the still burning plant clusters.

He holds it out to you (as if you could take it with your hands restrained behind your back), hyena-grinning as you scowl up towards him.

“You should try a little. It might make you a little more-” Pausing, he pretends to be in thought. More mockery, you really wish you were desensitized to it by now. “-friendly.”

“I would have been friendly if you hadn’t kidnapped me like some sort of psychopath!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst, languidly pushing himself off of his dilapidated computer chair and crouching down next to you instead. You know better than to kick at him, he won’t hesitate to break your legs to keep you in line. All you can do is stare at him nervously as he shakes his shaggy pale hair out over his forehead, still sporting that unnerving expression. His scarlet eyes burn arguably brighter than fire from the pipe, and exponentially more threatening.

He moves a little closer into your space, bringing the piece back up to his lips and lighting it up once again. He takes a deep inhale this time, even deeper than the first. Chest puffed and breath held, his lanky arm reaches out back behind him places the still-burning pipe back on the desk, gaze never leaving yours.You figure he’s going to blow it in your face again, either to be annoying or to try and give you some sort of shitty second rate high to make you more malleable.

It’s obnoxious, but not even close to the worst thing he’s done to you.

Yet, his cold, dry fingers grab at your jaw, forcing you to keep your attention on him. A chipped nail from his thumb prods at your lower lip and you realize he wants you to open your mouth. You could tell him to go fuck himself, but that only gives him what he wants, if only for a moment. Instead, you choose to glower at him.

If looks could kill, he would probably keel over, but unfortunately you live in a world where he has the upper hand. He squints at you, something you know would be equally as furious as your own grimace if his features had the freedom to express it. The fingers on your chin clamp down, digging into your soft skin in a bruising grip. The more you defy him, the more he punishes you, and his large hands have more than the power they need to cause you pain.

Eventually you feel your jaw start to crack. You try to hold out, try to stay your ground, but it becomes too much. Between his brutal strength and your already weakened condition, it’s no use fighting him on something he really wants.

You open your mouth, if only to cry in pain, and he immediately crashes his lips against yours.Teeth clack as you try to shake him off, but it’s too late. He’s breathing his air into your lungs, caustic mixture of the taste of the weed and the bitter scent of his breath swirling deep inside you. You try to heave it back at him, but the damage is done. Smoke barely seeps from the tiny cracks he allows between your faces, and your need to breathe is stronger than your ability to fight, so eventually, you relent.

You gulp the air he gives you down, just wanting him to get the fuck away from you. You can feel his lips quirk in a smile as you fight the urge to spit up from the foul scent of his exhale, ripped and bloodied lips scratching against yours. Eventually when he does pull away from you, you go into a hysterical coughing fit and between your bouts, you can hear him cackle.

You finally manage to calm yourself, but whatever it is he’s made you inhale, it’s strong. Stronger than anything you’re used to. Even second hand, your head is already humming, and you can feel your chest tighten against your will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” High pitched giggling and a weirdly gentle brush of a hand across your buzzing, swollen cheek. You go to swat him off, hissing in pain when the metal edge round holding you back cuts into an already existing cut. “Soon you won’t have any fight left in you at all.”

He leaves you alone for a minute, door clicking behind him. You catch your breath in his absence, eyes scanning your surroundings. You look for something, anything he has left within your reach that you can use to escape. It’s what you do during the exceedingly brief moments he’s not around, and so far, it hasn’t yielded any results, but you refuse to give up.

The curtains likely mean that there’s presumably a window behind there. If you can just get free, you might be able to jump out. Problem is you’re stuck with your hands restrained behind you on a metal bed post. It doesn’t matter how much you kick and scream, no one ever comes, so it’s probably safe to say whoever is below or above you doesn’t give a shit. You need to get out of these cuffs.

He smokes, at least occasionally. He’s probably got a bobby pin around here for scraping. If he’s anything like your mates, they probably litter the floor. To be fair, even if you get one, you don’t really know what to do with it. You could try your hand at lockpicking?

Heh. Hand. Get it? Cause all those hands?

Focus.

The biggest problem right now is the handcuffs. Technically, you could get out of them, but you’d have to disjoint your fingers to do it, which takes away from your already pathetic chances at escaping. It hurts to move your wrists, let alone yank on them. Why the fuck did this asshole have handcuffs anyway? Unless he’s doing some kinky shit in his down time. You wouldn’t put it past him, he’s obviously a weird guy. He seems like the type to be into some dirty stuff. You don’t know who with, but there’s probably villain fuckers out there he could find and take advantage of. Gross.

You audibly laugh.That’s funny.That’s really funny. You don’t know why, but the thought makes you giggle uncontrollably. Your mind refuses to stay on track.

Fucking focus!

Somewhere far away, you hear the door open and his heavy footsteps off to the side of you. Too late. You’re still laughing.

“Hey Shigaraki-”

He’s leaning down next to you, fucking with something behind you. Your hands. He’s messing around your hands. He’s cold. Why are his hands always so goddamn cold? Is that why he’s a villain? Cold hands? That would make you a villain too.

Your head feels several sizes too big, and you can’t help but think about how he smells like dust. Everything feels slow. You can feel your heart pumping. You can hear it too.

“-You should like, just let me go.That would be kinda cool. My hands hurt.”

You don’t notice they aren’t even cuffed anymore, or that he’s scooping you up in his arms and gently placing you on his bed.

“Don’t try to fight, now. You need a tolerance to before it’ll feel normal. You’ll only hurt yourself, and that would be such a shame.”

You can tell he’s mocking you again, but you just chortle because the words are processing like a slurry. The back of your head feels so soft. It’s definitely not the awful metal he’s made you crick your neck on the past little while. He’s touching your arms and it tickles. Flashes of his face play in your mind a little slower than they’re probably actually happening. It’s terrifying, but the fear doesn’t register. You wanna touch his face. You bet it feels funny.

You can hear the click of handcuffs again, and you know he’s cuffed you once again (so rude), just somewhere new now. Your fingers grip and you feel metal bars. A bed frame. Again. Uuugh. You kick your feet a little and they bounce off the mattress. Bouncy.

There’s a weight shift near your feet, and before you can really understand what’s happening, he’s on top of you, face hovering less than an inch above yours. Your cheeks are burning as his flaxen hair tickles and curtains you, and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t stop staring at his eyes. They’re so fucking intense you swear they scorch you. Like an abyss, you feel yourself being swallowed inside them as they stare long into you. Hate. Rage. So much embodied negativity you can practically feel it. Panic blooms in your chest but your body is reacting too slow. All you can do is squirm.

“Shh-” He’s caged your head in his arms, and his breath is glossing your cheek, just as sour as before but somehow you know what’s about to happen is much worse than forcefully smoking you out. “This’ll be much better for you if you relax and give in. Who knows? You could even enjoy it.”

He grinds his clothed pelvis into yours, and while somewhere inside your head, sirens are blaring, all your body can process is pressure against your most sensitive area. You whine, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours again. Your mouth is slack and moist, so it’s nice and easy for him to slide his slimy, disgusting tongue down your throat. With your brain short circuiting from both shock and whatever he’s made you consume, your body doesn’t have enough control over its facilities to fight back.

He kisses you long and hard, if you can call whatever he’s doing to you kissing. It’s more like he’s trying to devour you. Sloppy, wet, and possessive, like he’s trying to choke you with his essence. It could have been a minute. It could have been hours. You don’t know.

When he does finally pull away, you can feel your stomach lurch as he laps at the string of spit that connects you to him, but you only blink your eyes wearily despite your extreme bodily reaction. You feel sleepy, or more accurately, your eyelids feel kinda heavy. Really heavy. Something visceral is telling you to stay awake, to keep fighting, but you just can’t. You can hear yourself speak but you don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t remember.

“You’re cute like this, all spacey and stupid.” He flicks your forehead and your eyes flicker back open, but only briefly. “I guess it hit you kinda hard, huh? Sorry about that. I should have warned you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, a little softer this time. You’re almost out at this point, everything feels so heavy. So sluggish. You barely feel his long, thin fingers glide slowly up your shirt.

“I think you could come to like it here with me if you stop being stubborn. But that’s okay. I forgive you. Like I told you before. I’m patient. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

#Shigaraki #Shigaraki x Reader #tw implied noncon #drugging???#slight somnophilia #kidnapping #sorry weed actually hits me different than it hits other people #and when I tried to do research on how to accurately portray it they basically said you cant lmao #HE GETS YOU HIGH AS FECK BOI #It's special villain quirk weed dont ask lmao #this ended up ridiculous #just like me #it's doing that thing again where it cuts off the read more JUST under the ask #will someone send me a picture for how it shows up on your dash? Am I the only one seeing this?

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 4 years ago

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DBH RANT:

I’m talking about hate and racism, so, if you think this will upset you, I implore you not to read. This is also done by a person with ADHD, so it might be scattered, but I needed to say this.

I feel the desire to say this:

STOP CALLING OUT PEOPLE FOR LIKING “RACIST” CHARACTERS.

Detroit: Become Human is about the struggle androids have in fighting for their freedom. Yes, this is very much an allegory to current struggles minorities have, even though it is full of flaws (We all know it is, that doesn’t mean we don’t love it).

However, we also know that the game is very limited in forms of interaction. You can’t go up to a character like you can in other games and have repeated conversations. You can’t talk to Chris after the incident where Markus spared him after shooting all those androids. You don’t get any real form of backstory on them. It’s not how the game is set up, even though we marvel at all the things we can do.

Yes, in a lot of cases, this is true in real life. When people hate others, you don’t know their story. Sometimes, it’s a case of poor environment or some kind of catalysis that altered their perception. I’m not saying some people aren’t ‘born’ with anger and direct it at others or a group of people. It’s not something people like to believe though and, quite frankly, is not as common as everyone seems to think it is. In any case, we don’t know why people are hateful and their reasonings do not justify their actions. That does not mean they are beyond redemption.

What am I getting at?

Well, the fact of the matter is, we don’t know these characters past or future.

Chris is a good example. In the beginning of the game, he does ignore Connor’s argument to let Ortiz’s android go. This would be an example of environment. All Chris has known of androids is that they are supposed to listen to humans and that they often give ‘helpful hints’ (much like those annoying pop-ups at the bottom of the computer that everyone ignores). So, hearing one talk isn’t going to make him listen. Then, you have Gavin breathing down his neck. Naturally, he’s not going to know what to do, so he does what he knows.

Later, he informs Connor that he was right about the android. He has no obligations to even talk to him, much less point this out. Chris doesn’t treat Connor negatively and it’s a pretty basic conversation that one would have with a coworker. Not saying he views him as such, but I digress.

Now, we come to the most contradictory scene, where Chris actively takes part in shooting androids. Once again, this is environmental + ignorance. By now, news stories have been going apeshit over androids. We hear a couple talking propaganda (depending on what demands Markus makes) about the potential dangers or how ridiculous this all is. This is just a few snippets. Nothing like what a human would really be exposed to, especially considering where Chris works with all the news broadcasts playing. He’s a new father, quite frankly, he seems more like a rookie than anything, so even if he doesn’t think so, they’ve been planting thoughts in his head. It’s not like he knows anyone who is saying different, so, seeing androids roaming the streets after ‘escaping’ their department stores, all he knows is that they are stronger and could kill (as evidence of Ortiz android). There are not enough people on the side of androids that’s stating they’re alive, and all he’s known them to be are machines or murderers, so, as bad as it sounds, yes, he is going to view them as machines and shoot without reservations.

This is why it would have been nice to talk to him after. Did his opinion change after Markus (assumingly, otherwise he’s not there to ask if you made the other choice) spared his life? Like the human Connor saved on the roof, would he be grateful? Would he realize the errors of his ways? I’m not condoning his actions, I’m saying that there is the chance for him to change for the better, for him to want to redeem himself.

This can be applied to most of the people in the game. They are ignorant and do only what they know. Change is not easy, or rather, not easy to accept. When you are raised to believe a certain thing, or have relied on a certain thought pattern for a while, to accept that it’s wrong is difficult. That is where the difficulty in change is, especially when others believe the same thing. It reinforces that thought. I could rant about this for hours, but I’d rather not. In the end, we are aware that things need to change and are frustrated by how little it happens.

On to the most polarizing character: Gavin fucking Reed.

He makes no secret that he hates androids, but something people seem to ignore is that he seems to fucking hate everyone. HE’S A BULLY. Androids are just an easy target because they can’t fight back. He berates Chris for being unable to move Ortiz’s android yet does not step in to help. Points a gun at Connor (which I find it interesting that he says to Hank, “You’re not gonna get away with it this time. We are well aware Hank gets away with a lot more than he should, but it doesn’t go into detail what Gavin could have been referring to), straight-up punches Connor after mocking him, talks in bad taste at a crime scene, insults Hank and elbows Connor.

Point is, it’s not limited to androids. Bullies, as we all know, pick easy targets. The fact that they can’t fight back is incentive. We also know that bullies are not born. We’ve all seen the after-school specials where the bully is being bullied at home or something along those lines. It does not justify the actions, but it does give reasoning. Something we are denied by the storyline.

Once again, what am I getting at?

Fandoms are synonymous with ‘fixing’ things that they feel are broken. They build on the world, give characters backstories where there aren’t any. None of it’s canon, but they try to make as much of it work with canon as possible (at least, when they’re being serious. Let’s keep the crack out of this). It’s an amazing thing that people pour their heart and soul in.

So, having their love for a ‘racist’ character brought up, after they have written several stories where Gavin was abused as a child or Chris is an android advocate. It’s not fair to them. I’m not saying, if you’re talking canon, not to say your opinion and say they are racists or how terrible they are. I’m saying don’t go saying, “You know the character that everyone loves even though they are racist?”. What you are doing is shaming people who have spent hours, days, weeks, writing ‘fix-it’ fics. Giving these characters a chance at redemption that we weren’t given in game.

These kinds of things can make a person question themselves, when all they are doing is believing in the possibility for a person to change, no matter how set in their ways they are. Is that not the kind of beliefs we should have, as human beings wanting to promote care and understanding for all? For a future where all humans are treated with equality?

Even if that isn’t what you think, these people are the ones who inspire others. They express their love for the game and add to the fandom. Making them doubt themselves because they like these characters is a way to kill the fandom. Even if you don’t like their work, others do and build off of it. I, personally, have read some fics that I didn’t like, so I might write something in my tastes. This is what makes a fandom great.

You can hate a character. You can hate their actions. You can hate their very existence. But don’t attack someone because of their love for the character. In the end, this is all fictional, but being hurtful because someone does not conform to your way of thinking is real.

Alright, I’m done. I appreciate you reading this far. If you want to reblog you can. I just needed to get this out. I was getting tired of this bullshit.

#detroit become human #dbh #gavin #chris #markus #connor #hank #rant #safe to reblog #tw: racism

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starrynightdaisy · 4 years ago

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Snowing peace

Pairing: Wolffe x reader

Warnings: some angst in the beginning due to post war but just soft wolffe

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It was the first day of winter on Coruscant. And winter means Christmas and snow. And a Christmas market full of happiness and cozyness. But it also was the second month of peace. With the Seperatists and and thh Sith lord gone, there is finally peace and freedom. The new chancellor made sure of that.

But what they also made sure of was rights. Rights and equality for the clones. It was a hard fight against some senators and the kaminoans, but the chancellor never rested. Some Jedi also didn’t. Demanding justice for the men and soldiers that lost more than anyone. That sacrificed more than anyone. And hurt the most physically and emotionally. It was a hard progress but in the end justice succeeded.

And clones became citizens. Some even left for new worlds to start new with their brothers at their side and the support of the republic. Some stayed, not sure what to do yet. Many didn’t leave their armour behind or destroyed it, it holding far too many stories and memory’s of fallen brothers and Stories of bravery and Courage. You saw the struggle in them. All of them. The way Echo looked at the leftover armour parts of Fives’ that Rex still had when they decided to destroy them.

But also the pride in the eyes of the 501st when Fives got declared a War hero. Standing up for something he knew was right, knew could cost him everything but still fought with everything. A lot was later discovered, for example the whereabouts of the medic kix and the evidence needed for clearing up the name of Commander Fox in regards of Fives. Poor man was manipulated from the start and a broken soul, but now finally at peace with himself.

And the Wolfpack? No one was surprised when they all declared themselves part of the Koon family, making Plo Koon their honorary father. Almost all of them. Why it’s said almost all of them? Because the oldest son, the lone wolf of the pack, still felt responsible about what happened. And oh so guilty. No one was able to completely stop Order 66 from happening.

So here you stand at the clone barracks, everything decorated with Christmas things like small Christmas tree decorations and mistletoes, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands with scarf and a beanie on. Everywhere were clones, running or standing around in civilian clothes with different hairstyles and some with their brothers or with their partners, enjoying the time.

Standing before you was former Commander Wolffe of the 104th battalion, in a dark grey coat and and dark blue jeans, with a black turtleneck peeking out from the coat. “It’s kriffing cold.” Were his annoyed words as he stuffed his hands further into his coat and slightly stepped closer to you. Smiling up at him you realised how relaxed he looked. Peace looked good on him and it suits him well.

Snickering you took a sip from your hot chocolate. “I told you to wear the scarf Boost made you. It’s too cold, even for you.”

Glaring at you, he huffed and turned away from you and let his gaze wander around while sporting red cheeks and a red nose due to the cold. Sadly it wasn’t that prominent due to his melanin but doesn’t mean he still didn’t look cute with it. Smiling, you went back to drinking your hot chocolate when you spotted Jedi Master Plo Koon. Waving at him, you beckoned him over while not missing the way Wolffe stiffened next to you.

“I was wondering where I would find you two. I haven’t seen you two in a long time.” Were the kind words of the Jedi. It was true. You and Wolffe did spend a lot of time alone in your apartment, redecorating and just spending time together. You are glad you did it. It gave Wolffe the time and space he needed to come to terms with everything. The last thing you two did was build the Cupboard with the glass doors, which now showcases Wolffe’s armour in all it’s glory. You didn’t ask why, knowing the armour meant a lot to him with the colours and every mark being another survived mission and step closer to peace.

Nodding you moved to interwind your fingers with Wolffe’s “Yes we spent a lot of time together taking care of someone’s soul and mind.” Squeezing Wolffe’s Hand you let it go and stepped back “I’ll be back in a second, my cup is empty” winking at wolffe you turned around and left, ignoring the panicked look he shot you. It was time for him to face this.

“Wolffe.” No response. “Wolffe.” Nothing. “Son”

“Don’t call me that” was the sharp response of the former soldier. “I lost the right for that name when I was close to-“ god he couldn’t even say it. He never will be able to. Schooling his facade, he backen the stoic man everyone knew back when he was still commander.

Letting out a sigh Plo shakes his head. “You never lost the right and never will.” Shocked eyes looked back at the Kel Dor. “You had no influence on your actions but still tried your best to keep everyone save. You will always be my son.” Moving forward the Jedi places both hands on the shoulders of the still shocked young man. “I will lay my life down I to your hands any day again my son. I trust you. So now I ask do you: please trust yourself again.” With that, the Kel Dor pulled Wolffe into his arms, holding him tight.

Standing a good distance away we’re you with Boost and Sinker, all careful watching the exchange and letting out a breathe they didn’t knew they held when Wolffe finally moved his arms and slowly hugged the Jedi back. “Finally, I’m sorry but seeing Plo sad is always awful. Can’t believe it took them this long” snorting Sinker lightly punched Boost’s arm.

“You know we would have had to wait longer if it wasn’t for them taking care of him. You know how stubborn he is.” Talking amongst themselves, you slowly made your way back to the father son duo, who are slowly letting each other go.

“Never think like that about yourself again my son, okay?” Despite still not looking the Jedi Into his eyes, the young man nodded his head a few times. Smiling softly, Plo gave his shoulders one last squeeze, said goodbye with an “I’ll see you around” and left.

Stepping next to your partner, you slowly extent your hand and hold a cup of sweetened tea under his nose. “Drink, I know you are cold and your nerves can use it.” You couldn’t stop the smile form forming on your face when he moved his hands to slowly take the cup while he still stared at his fathers back.

“He said I- that I-“ he stammered.

“I know.”

Chuckling he slowly moved his hand to correct the way the beanie sits on your head. “Of course u do” rolling his eyes he kissed your forehead gently while pulling you closer. You were shocked by the openly physical show of affection but enjoyed it anyways. “You were right. He... he never was mad at me.”

Taking a sip you simply shrugged your shoulders. “I know. You know I am often right about the things I say.”

“Let me be the judge of that okay? Just bc u were right once...” rolling his eyes again, he continued to sip his tea.

Smiling at the banter, you further leaned into his side, bathing in the presence that is your partner and enjoying the cozy feeling.

Everything will be better from now on. You know it. And with the first falling snowflakes, you give yourself the promise to do everything in your power to make this man happy.

Forever

#star wars #commander wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #wolffe #clones #snowflake #christmas #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper boost #plo koon #post war #order 66

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