#like i'm sure by the end my opinion will simply be: it was fine

[ranger-kellyn]

Roku, "For the Avatar, friends can be...a liability."

WHO WROTE THESE GUYS???????????

[gentlemanjuniper]

If I could inject just a little positivity to the news...

Season 2 has a lot of filler and stretches out a pretty simple mystery to six episodes. That's the appeal to some, I get it. But tightness and focus was not its strong suit. I remember feeling like it wasted a ton of time on side characters and it's possible shaving the story down to 90 minutes will skim things down to its most essential beats and be stronger for it. Basically, S2 got a lot of time given to it, and this is obviously my personal opinion but I don't think it used all of it well. I think S2 itself could have been half the length simply by employing more efficient storytelling and we'd not mourn too much.

A lot of S2's weaker plotlines feel built around people that Neil wanted to work with again, with so many recurring actors (I'm thinking of the zombies specifically, when that minisode could have easily been tighter without them). A lot of s2 to me feels like Neil just making work for the people he likes and wants to work with and a movie has to be more accountable to things like that.

Lots of entire fandoms exist around single movies. 90 minutes is not nothing. It's enough for many, many films to tell a complete story with cute character interactions and satisfying emotional arcs, especially when A&C are the only real significant connecting threads between both seasons thus far.

I don't think there are as many loose threads that absolutely need resolving as people may be thinking. Would I like to know why Aziraphale did the '40s apology dance? Would I like to see his bookshop gun? Sure. Are either of those necessarily essential to closing out the story? I don't think so. Really, what needs resolving is the second coming and, directly connected to that, Aziraphale and Crowley's rift. To me, not knowing the story obviously, that seems super reasonable to do in 90 minutes?

I don't think anyone involved in the final season can possibly be blind to the appeal of the show being Aziraphale and Crowley over anything else. That's certainly the reason why their roles were expanded to begin with from the book and why the second season was, nominally, all about them. They also now have to pay MS and DT for appearing in a movie rather than an ensemble show, there's no way they won't be front and center. Amazon wants a show that will make money and market itself; there's a reason why all the promo material for S2 was of Crowley and Aziraphale, because people engage with that stuff, reblog it, make art that promotes the show, etc. It makes no artistic or financial sense to make a movie that sidelines them.

GO is at its best when it has Terry's voice most strongly in it. That's why to me, S2 was a weaker, more meandering season overall (that, and I think the minisodes, while fun, just make the season feel comprised of different voices not always working in tandem towards a common goal). If I was a writer hired to condense a season into a film, and one of the authors had been rightfully disgraced, I would go out of my way to ensure the clearly Terry stuff is most significantly emphasized. It's telling to me that the Pratchett estate is producing and it's possible that the end result will result in more Terry, less Neil.

Think of it this way: everything we've gotten after S1 has always been extra. Imagine telling a fan of the book in the 90s that not only will you get a six episode adaptation, you also get a totally new second season, AND a movie?

Basically: I know this is disappointing but I think a lot of the pleasure of the Good Omens fandom was ALWAYS people picking up on and expanding on details, and y'all managed to do that just fine when A&C were only ensemble members in S1. You can and will do that with a movie too. And this solution both a) ensures first and foremost that Neil won't be involved or the allegations swept under the rug, and b) gives an opportunity for the heart of the story to be emphasized with greater focus, clarity and less filler.

Will we lose good stuff? Probably. But it's also possible we will get a tighter, more condensed, focused version of the best bits, the Terry Pratchett-est bits. I can easily see a 90 minute movie that, knowing they HAVE to focus on the important stuff now, is more Crowley and Aziraphale centric than ever.

[russellsppttemplates]

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you (Lando Norris)

Your new job is allowing you to have new experiences, and your heart is not too mad about it either

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time in the books, I'm finally writing for Lando! This is my first long piece and I hope I did well enough!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: curse words, mentions alcohol consumption

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm just saying, it's closer that way. We can go and get the packages ourselves and sort out any issues with them straight away", Lando reasoned, opening his text message app so he could continue what he wanted to do. "Okay, fine by me. He's got a point, Y/N", Max raised his hands in surrender, looking at you for your opinion.

Working for Quadrant hadn't been a goal you had set out to accomplish in the strict sense of it. You didn't see yourself working for a massive company where people were stuffed in offices where the only way they could know their colleagues' names was when they had online meetings that took far too long and discussed the baseline of the issues. So, when you saw the job offer for someone in the Graphic Design area of work, you looked up the company name and saw their work, fascinated with how the guys had grown this business from streaming online gaming. Later, as you progressed in the recruitment process, you came to learn that Lando and Max also had a more public presence than you had initially figured out, despite all of your friends' insistence that "you can't be that clueless, Y/N, how did you not know that Quadrant was Lando Norris'? I thought you applied because of that", they would say as you shrugged your shoulders, "in this economy, do you think I am that picky about a job? I have my preferences, sure, but I know what I'm worth and I saw the offer was actually quite okay!", you defended yourself.

You ended up getting the spot and, so far, you couldn't complain. Most of the time you worked with Callum, Max and Tara, since your work overlapped with theirs, and every now and again, like right now, Lando would also meet up with you.

"Are you sure it's fine if I go? Your parents know Max, but they haven't met me before. Are you sure they won't find it weird?", you spoke directly to Lando, thinking that his idea, as lovely and kind as it was, didn't account for the facts you were stating.

"Max is coming because he's from the team, and you're from the team, too, so you're coming with us as well", Lando said simply, not seeing the problem.

"But he's been your friend for so long now, I'm a Quadrant Team member", you attempted again, "they don't have to provide for and give a roof to a stranger, I'll find an hotel to spend the night", you offered, wanting to be clear about it.

"You're part of the team, too! Don't worry about that, okay?", Lando said, "besides, mum loves having a full house, she's definitely the host of the family", he smiled, checking the item on his list nd carrying on the meeting.

"When we're there, we'll be able to get our hands on the embroidered Originals collection", Max began, "hopefully they're perfect and we can start working on the website", he gestured as you turned your laptop so they both could see, "this is the concept I've come up with, since this isn't as flashy or as colourful as past collections", you showed them the mood board, looking for disapproval signs but being met with looks of surprise instead, "I know it's not usually what you go for, so I also have another idea here, if you just let m-", you were about to change when Lando slapped your hand away from the mouse and holding it in his, "I really like this one, especially these posts here, I think the ideas are great!", he noted as he set your hand down on the table, "okay, then I can keep working on this", you said, closing the other tab, "do you have something better than this?", Max asked, "seems as good to me!", he offered.

"This is just a draft, I'll invest more time in this and I'll have it ready for the end of the week. That way we can have it ready when the clothes arrive. I'll text Tara to ler her know", you smiled, grabbing your phone as the boys flickered through the ideas, pointing out the different details they liked and wanted to keep.

.

"I'm way too young for my life to be just this, so please drive safely, Max", you said, buckling your seatbelt and exaggerating your hold on the door handle, "if you weren't such a crucial part of this team, I'd make you reconsider your jokes", he teased back, reversing out of the parking space and initiating the trip.

Lando was already at his parents' house since they had a family gathering the day before, so you and Max were driving up to meet him, "they're really nice people, really chilled as well", Max began, "Adam and Cisca, that is. I can hear you thinking and I'm assuming that is what's going on in your head", he stated.

"I don't want to step on anyone's toes, and I don't want to embarrass anyone or myself even. Can you imagine Lando's parents finding out their son's company has questionable employees? They'll mark me off as some sort of strategy fool or think that I want to take this company down, and I don't!", you uttered out, sharing more than you meant to.

Impostor's Syndrome was a bitch, and it often showed up the moment things got progressively harder, and while you knew you were able to deal with it, the little voice still nagged you.

"Y/N, you're one of the most valuable people we have on the team, and I don't say that lightly. This is Lando's baby, and yes, he's the face of it and that counts for most of it, but the work behind it is just as important and with the numbers we're having, it all comes down to you. Since you joined us the designing aspect of it, - obviously, you wouldn't be the one responsible for accounting, duh -, the compliments have been non stop, it has improved the interactions, too!", he said honestly, "you have nothing to worry about, truly", he comforted, "it's this exit here", he mumbled, checking the GPS and turning on the blinker, slowing down the car as they entered the city.

You didn't have to wait long before he pulled up to a big house, the gravel sound quieting down until it came to a halt when Max stopped the car, "Lando said he'd meet us at the door, I really don't fancy being mistaken by a burglar", he joked, getting out of the car as you did the same, stretching your legs and taking in the sight.

"Max, Y/N! Did you have a good trip?", Lando made himself be heard and seen, walking up to you and grabbing the bags his friend was taking out of the car boot, "I'll take these", he offered, picking up your luggage as you pulled on your backpack, "thanks", you smiled, following him as he led the way into his parents' house.

"My parents are in the kitchen", the Formula One driver said, ushering you to the roomy space after he and Max dropped the bags by the stairs, "Max, dear! We haven't seen you in so long, how are you?", a beautiful woman said. Her hair was brown and her skin was tanned as she hugged Max and Lando, "this is Y/N, she is our graphic designer", he presented you, the older man hugging you and his wife doing the same, "I'm Adam, it's so nice to finally meet you", he smiled warmly, "likewise", you smiled back.

"You can call me Cisca, darling. We've heard so much about you, it's nice to finally put a face to the name", she winked at you as you didn't miss Lando elbowing his mother as he closed his eyes, sighing at her, "thank you for having me over, I hope it's not too much trouble", you thanked again, feeling more at ease at their genuine welcoming greetings.

Lando quickly scrambled an answer, seemingly not wanting his parents to talk, "of course it's fine, no trouble here! Let's get your things upstairs so we can settle in and work!", he clapped his hands, walking to the corridor and up the stairs with Max as you excused yourself.

"This is your room, you have the bathroom on the next door", he pointed on the corridor after he placed your bag and backpack down in the small sofa, "Max is in the office, it's just across the hall and I'm at the end of the hall, if you need anything", Lando offered.

"Thanks, again. Do you guys want to begin now? I just need to put on some fluffy socks and I'm good to go", you said, "yes! Is the dining room okay with your parents? The table is big enough to layout everyhting", Max chirped in, whistling at your room as he looked around, "she got an upgrade, good move!", he tapped his friend's back.

After Lando cleared it with his parents, he was quick to remove the table runner and flower vase from the dining room table, extending it to its biggest size so you had all the space you needed, "you can sit here, Y/N, it's usually where the room heats up faster", he pointed out the radiator, pulling up the chair next to your and typing on his iPad.

"So this is the video idea? I like it, we just need to find some background music for it", Max asserted, grabbing his phone to check the time, "we should get going to pick up the order", he uttered.

"Do you need all of us to go?", you asked, saying the changes in your laptop as you did,

"You can pull your the backseats of your car down, can't you, Max? That way we can bring more boxes, and you and me go", Lando reasoned, looking over at you, "do you mind staying here while we go get them?", he asked, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable.

"I'll be fine, you go", you smiled, opening your notebook and writing down some notes.

"Oh, darling, you could've turned the lights on. Soon enough you'll be like me and need glasses", Cisca said as she stood on by the door, flickering the lights on as your eyes got used to the brightness, "I already wear them, or I should more often anyway", you blushed, suddenly getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar, grabbing your case from your backpack and putting them on.

When Lando and Max left, you decided to work on the website graphics, checking how the campaign would work with the current layout, that you lost track of time.

"May I see what you're working on?", she asked, "it's okay if I may not, I don't want to intrude", she smiled as you pulled up the chair next to you, "I don't know much about these things, but I always get quite fascinated with this part", she said, sitting down and looking at the screen.

Already driving back home, Lando and Max talked about the plans once they arrived, "and that way Y/N can also finish the social media stuff, and maybe you'll have more time to actually make a move on her", he teased.

Lando scoffed, "I'm not trying to make a move on her", he defended himself, "I'm glad to know, because if those moves were what you had, it wouldn't surprise it that it didn't go very far", Max yelped as his friend took the opportunity of the straight road ahead to hit his thigh, "so that's what you talk about? Here I am thinking about business and you're meddling in my love life?".

"I never said it was love life, but since you've admitted it, it's saving me time. So, what are you planning? I could help since this seems to be stalled", Max tried again, holding his hands in protection of his body in case Lando hit him again.

"I wouldn't know where to begin, I mean, it will make things awkward if this goes south, right? I'd never be able to look at her again, much less work with her", Lando admitted, "She's very kept to herself as well, I highly doubt that she'll want to be involved with me in that way. Whoever I date or interact with has to deal with enormous amount of public eye and I wouldn't spring that up on her", Lando mumbled, taking the road exit on his left.

"So you've given this some thought, too. Here we are thinking you're coming to the meetings to help and now you're just blushing when we talk about Y/N", Max joked back as Lando shook his head.

"We're back!", Lando announced, walking inside the dining room while pushing the boxes with Max, "don't worry, mum, we're not scratching the floors", he said, sweetly kissing the side of her head, "are you planning to work for us?", he noticed she was sitting next to you, notebooks of the projects open and sheets and fabrics all over the table in front of you.

"Y/N was kindly showing me the project you're working on, for the launch, and it looks really nice!", she complimented, placing a hand on your shoulder and the other on your arm, "she's been showing me everything, I've probably stolen some valuable time from you, darling, I'm sorry", she slumped her shoulders slightly, "not at all, it's all under way, don't worry", you smiled, easing her worries, "I'll leave you guys to it, how about I make some tea?", she suggest as the three of you nodded.

"We have the boxes here, they're sorted by colours", Lando opened the first box, "these are only for the Originals collection, right?", you checked over, peaking at the blue hoodie he pulled out.

"The sizing is right, right?", Max wondered as Lando stretched it out, "Y/N, can you try these, please? We need to check if the model is good for guys and girls".

Getting up from your spot, you grabbed the vibrant blue piece, feeling its soft texture against your fingertips, "I have wider hips that average, I'm not sure I'm the greatest test model for that", you shrugged your shoulders, "keep that in mind". Taking off your sweater so your torso was covered in a strappy top, you pulled the new garment on, adjusting the strings around the neck so you could pull it all the way down, "Oh, it's so soft", you noticed, "and warm, too. And feels quite good actually, it's not too tight", fumbling with the ribbed material on the bottom as you checked yourself out on the windows now that it was dark outside.

Lando gulped as you did so. Oh, had Lando noticed your hips. To anyone else, it would be another feature of your body, but he was enamoured by them. Your body's curvy outline enticed him and he would be lying if he said that it wasn't the first thing he noticed at first glance when you arrived for you last interview, especially with the tapered pants you had been wearing.

"Looks nice. What do you think, mate?", Max turned to Lando, hoping to get an answer but finding him looking at you, "is there something wrong? I told you I'm not the best mo-".

"It's gorgeous, looks gorgeous", he breathed out just as his mother walked inside carrying a tray with tea and some biscuits, "Here's the tea, guys", she said, setting it on the table, "wow, that's a very nice piece!", she complimented.

"It is, isn't it, Cisca?", Max said, covering up her son as he kept looking at you as you tested the front pocket, not noticing his gaze on you.

"You also have a very beautiful model, you can't ignore that factor in the equation", she complimented you while you grabbed a mug, taking a sip of the warm liquid and hoping it hid your pink cheeks, "thank you", you whispered.

While Lando helped his father with dinner, Max convinced his mother to show you both family albums, and once you had the delicious food they prepared, you excused yourself so you could use the shower, wanting to wash the day of travelling away. Max and Cisca stayed in the living room while Lando helped his father prepare dessert, checking on the apple crumble in the oven so it could get golden brown and not burnt, "so, any life updates recently?", the older man asked.

Lando wasn't around as much as they both would've liked, so often times his visits also came along with news and updates, "not much, racing has been good, it's nice to have a break now, even if it's just two weeks", he offered, looking at the oven.

"And nothing else? I mean, no one special? Your mother is usually the blunt one, but I'm going to try it myself: Y/N is just a Quadrant Team Member?", Adam questioned, noticing his son's cheeks become redder.

"Is it that noticeable? I just hope she doesn't see it as much as you do", Lando groaned, rubbing his cheeks, "maybe you should hope she notices, you know? Maybe she'll admit she likes you, too. You never know", Adam patted his son's back, grabbing the gloves so he could take the tray out of the oven, "she seems like a really nice girl, kind, good work ethic, intelligent, and she's beautiful", he finished as his son sighed, grabbing the vanilla ice cream from the freezer, "she's all of that and so much more".

.

"Kygo is doing a set tonight", you heard Max say as you walked inside the living room, taking the spot on the sofa next to Lando since his mother had taken your previous spot when you went to use the bathroom, "I've been meaning to ask you guys if you wanted to go, actually. He texted me saying to tell him if we were planning on going", Lando stated.

"Go and enjoy being young, life is not all about work if you can't enjoy yourself", Cisca shared, "dad and I won't complain if you make noise when you get back", she winked.

"Would you like to go, Y/N? You can say no, that's fine, too", Lando turned to you. He knew Max would be down on a heartbeat, but he didn't want you to feel pressured to do something you didn't want to because you were at his parents' place as a guest.

"I'm good, I like his music, too. I've been wanting to see him live for a bit, actually", you smiled, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to have these experiences because of your job and friends.

Later that night, you're getting ready in your room, sitting on the carpeted floor and applying your make-up for the occasion. The dressier outfit you had brought with you consisted of a burnt red top and some pants as it had become the outfit you had felt the most comfortable and confident in to go out. The top complimented your chest and your midsection as your pants looked really good around your hips and butt, your legs elongated by the small heeled shoes you had spent years looking for. They were comfortable, pretty and functional, ticking all the boxes for what you needed for tonight.

"Y/N, can I come in?", your heard Lando knock on the door, welcoming himself when you said he could, "we are leaving in about ten minutes, if that's okay", he said, taking a good look at you as you fiddled with your earring, "yes, fine by me", you smiled looking back in the mirror propped on the bedside table and finally clasping it, looking back at him.

You took his breath away. It was as simple as that. Your hair had your natural curls he loved so much, your makeup complimented your naturally soft beautiful features and your outfit made you look incredible.

"You guys ready?", Max patted the door, propping himself on it as you grabbed your shoes, "I'll put them on downstairs", you said, carrying them in your right hand as you had your small purse on the left.

While you did the small, dainty tie on your shoes, Lando's eyes went straight for your chest, the slightly bent down position granting him an agonisingly teasing angle as he tried his best to look away, "you might want to be less obvious, you don't need to creep her out to get her to be yours", Max whispered in Lando's ear.

As soon as you arrived, Lando and Max walked with you to the VIP area, asking you what you wanted to drink before they went up to get it.

Lando looked great on his white shirt, the light coloured shirt looking great against his tanned skin as the relaxed fit complimented his back, prompting you to make sure you weren't drooling in public. You worked for his company, it would never be a good idea to get romantically involved with him, no matter how many times your heart leaped.

"A very weak Gin and Tonic for you, as requested", Max said as he pushed the cup towards you, carrying nother drink for himself, Lando sitting next to you on the booth and empty handed, "you're not drinking?", you asked, "I'm driving us all home today, I'm want to do it safely", he stated, tapping his hands on the table when he saw Kygo, signalling him to approach you.

"Hey Lando, Max", he smiled, "I'm Y/N, I work for Quadrant", you smiled, greeting him with a half hug as he introduced himself too, "my set is in a few minutes, you got here just in time. If you want to see it up close, Y/N, let me know and I'll make it happen", he winked at you.

The wink was not missed by Lando or Max. While Max wanted to laugh at his friend's jealous expression, threatening to send the norwegian DJ to a place that was less than nice and sunny, Lando couldn't believe his eyes. Yes, it was only fair that others, too, saw your beauty and noticed you, but to put themselves out like that, that was a different story. You didn't seem to bothered by all of it, sipping on your drink as you spoke to Max, pointing out different people you remember from Silverstone earlier that year.

"Kygo's starting, I want to dance!", you said, getting up and gesturing for the boys to join you. While you were used to having a lot less space to dance in, the welcomed freedom was appreciated as you playfully placed your pointer finger on Max's head, making him do a little spin, "now, no need to be jealous, Lando, you can twirl, too!", you yelled over the music blasting from the speakers, doing the same and sinking your finger on Lando's curls.

"I'm going to get another drink, want anything?", Max asked, excusing himself when you shook your head, "you know you can drink, I'm the designated driver", Lando offered, "I know, thank you for that. I just don't want to drink more", you smiled, recognising the next song, feeling brave and pulling Lando by his hand so he could dance with you.

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you

I never knew anybody 'til I knew you

And I know when it rains, oh, it pours

And I know I was born to be yours

Lando twirled you would face him, chest flush against his as his colourful eyes looked into yours intensely, "I know this is very forward, and very unlike me to be fair, but I need to get it out", he gulped as he spoke loudly in your ear, looking for any sign of discomfort from you, "I really like you, like, a lot. And I would like to know if you feel the same. Because Max and my parents seem to think you do, but all I know they're just saying so that I shut up about how much I love you and how much it would mean to me", he spoke loudly against your ear as the song played.

You were struck by his confession, not expecting it to ever happen, much less like this and in these circumstances.

"If you consider this a hostile work environment, I didn't want that, but I had to be honest with you", he gulped, "just say you don't feel the same and I'll drop the subject, okay? I might have to pretend to go somewhere else so I can be away from you a bit until things are not awkward, but don't worry, I won't drink because I'm driving and-", Lando belted out before you interrupted him, moving your face closer to his neck this time and speaking into his ear, "It's not hostile if it's consensual, right?", you smiled, a glint in your eye as his own widened, chuckling as he sang the the words in your ear, taking the opportunity to kiss your cheek near your earlobe.

"Took you two fucking long enough!", Max yelled as he approached you, tapping Lando's back in congratulations, "you know what this means, Y/N? I won't have to listen to him mope about how he thinks he was made for you and you were made for him, and that the universe would have to be playing a very bad joke of you two didn't end up together!".

"What makes you think I'll stop that? I just got the girl of my dreams, now I'll have the confirmations of all I've said! You'll just hear how amazing all of it is!", Lando smiled, hugging you close to him and kissing the top of your head.

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 19 - Criminals

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Only when Vhagar settles on the beach, do you notice the crumbling ruins of an old castle, its shattered walls peeking through the trees like a mischievous child.  

People had lived here once, you think, and for a moment, you almost envy them, spending their lives in a place where the forest meets the sand. How strange and beautiful, you’d never seen anything quite like it. But even the beauty of such a place, could not distract from its location.  

How much time had passed since you’d left the party? Surely close to an hour by now, yet here you were, on a beach instead of your chambers. 

“This is not the Red Keep,” you say, anxiety quietly twisting in the pit of your stomach. 

But Aemond laughs, not nearly as concerned as you are on matters such as time or propriety.  

“You have a keen eye, Lady Baratheon,” he says, and his tone is flippant, teasing. 

"Need I remind his grace that he was supposed to be returning me home?”  

“All the way to Storms End? Now that would be quite a ride.” 

You turn to face him, “you're not funny.” 

But he was funny, at least in his opinion, and his cheek twitches with amusement, while his eye widens with feigned innocence, “I'm simply trying to clarify what my lady means by home .” 

“Is that so?” you begin, a little tartly, well, very tartly, “because I’d say you were being a fastidious arse who knows fine well what I mean by home.” 

Any ordinary man might have been aggrieved by such an accusation, but not Aemond. His grin is entirely guilty and fiendishly unapologetic.  

“Fastidious arse ?” he repeats, “that is what you call your prince when you want him to return you home?” 

Your eyes widen, but there’s not enough alarm in the world to douse the fire suddenly burning in your belly, “I will not beg you if that’s what you imagine.” 

“On the contrary, I'm quite content to know that my lady will have me grovelling at her feet for the duration of our marriage.” 

So cocky. Even if you actually wanted to marry him, you wouldn’t do it. 

“Oh?” you say, “and who is this lady that has agreed to be your wife?” 

He purses his lips, and there’s a wicked spark behind his eye, before his hand settles on his thigh, reminding you just how dangerously close you’re sitting to him. “I’m working on it,” he nods to the ropes on Vhagar’s neck, “now climb down so I may continue.” 

“And if I refuse?”  

Aemond’s head tilts, his hands suddenly grasping your hips with far too much enthusiasm, “then I might start believing that my lady would rather stay seated on my lap?”  

“I’m not your lady,” you insist, sliding your fingers around his wrists to pull him away. But he seems to have just as much enthusiasm for the way you're fighting him than he did for touching you. 

He struggles against your grip with a soft breathy chuckle, his efforts not enough to free himself, but enough to make you hold him tighter. Firm and steady, the illusion that you could ever truly hold power over him.  

“Vhagar needs to rest,” he says, as though it explains your stop at the beach, but it only forces you to glare at him. 

“You’re lying.”  

He doesn’t even try to deny it, he only grins wider, testing the strength of your grip again. 

“I’m not going to ask you to take a dip in the water, if that’s what you imagine... unless you want to, of course,” he teases, and why you let him crawl under your skin with such ease, you cannot say. But it seems that's all it takes, to get you to do exactly what he wants.  

Blowing out a breath of frustration, your leg swings over the pommel, and if you weren’t so irritated by him, you might have been more afraid. As it happens, you’re beginning to think you rather prefer Vhagar over her master. At least she doesn't speak, or look so dammed smug. 

This is what you think, as you climb all the way down her long neck with the kind of frenzied confidence only anger can provide, and before you know it, your feet have hit the ground and you don’t wait around. You storm down the beach, away from the tooth and fire end of the dragon, and more importantly, away from Aemond. 

"Will my lady be walking all the way back to Kings Landing?” he calls after you, and you do not slow.  

Maybe you will walk back. Maybe you’ll walk right into Alicent’s chambers and say that her precious son stole you away on dragonback- though she’d probably like that. She may have even been the one to suggest it! And the very thought makes you want to scream, so you do, feeling powerless as you kick up a big clump of sand.  

“If that is your wish, then you are heading in quite the wrong direction,” he calls again, the sound of his voice so much closer than before, and you stop, anger quickly turning into rage. 

“Just when I think that perhaps you might be somewhat tolerable, and that maybe we can actually be friends,” you snap, hair tangling wildly with the wind, as you turn to face him, “you prove yourself to be the most insufferable man that has ever lived!”  

“Are we not to be friends on a beach?” he says, as though your reaction was a surprise to him, though you can see he’s enjoying it either way, and why wouldn’t he? You’re completely at his mercy. 

“Were we friends, you would not trap me here!” you shout over the crash of a wave before crouching down to scoop up a ball of sand, which you promptly throw at him. 

He dodges it, arms spreading wide, “I see no shackles, no prison walls.” 

“Do not press me,” you throw another ball, which he dodges yet again, “or take me for more of a fool than I have already been!” And you were a fool, yet again you were the most foolish girl on the beach. 

It was hard to remember what exactly you had been thinking in agreeing to leave the party with him. Certainly nothing rational. But Aemond didn’t want you rational, he wanted you here, miles from home, with the sea lapping at the shore and the stars your only witness. 

He could keep you here all night, and even if he didn’t lay a single finger on your skin, you would be his, no questions asked. 

“I do not think you a fool,” his voice is soft, coaxing, “I think you’re...” 

“ What ?” 

His lips curl, “the most terrible aim imaginable.” 

You throw a third ball of sand, and as if to prove his point, it misses, and he proceeds to laugh. So, you throw a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth in quick succession. 

“If you actually manage to hit me with the next one, then you have my word that I will take you home this instant,” he baits, knowing you’re just as competitive as he, and you suppose that’s part of the fun, if you could call it fun. You'd rather call it attempted murder with the only weapon you had at hand. 

Crouching down to scoop up a fresh ball, you don’t waste it on a shot that might miss, you charge towards him, and Aemond runs away, clambering up a grouping of large rocks which form a sort of staircase towards the old ruins.

“Craven!” you shout, pursuing him as quickly as you can go, but finding your dress, and Aemond’s cloak, enough to hamper your every step.

You’re panting by the time you make it over the rocks and onto level ground. But you’re not giving up. You’d rather eat this ball of sand than let him win. 

So you edge closer to the thick of trees surrounding the old keep, hoping his hair might give him away in the dark, but he’s vanished, or to put it another way, he’s hiding. 

Returning to the beach and waiting him out would surely be a more sensible strategy. Yet, your patience has already worn too thin for strategy, and you can feel him watching. No doubt wearing that oh so familiar smirk he seems to acquire whenever you feel your blood begin to boil. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you say, the words more demanding than playful, and the sound only met by the screech of an owl, and the rustle of leaves. 

Still, despite the rush of nerves which shiver along your spine, you keep moving. Creeping towards a watch tower covered in ivy, while the ground below your feet, changes from grass to checkerboard tiles in the places where nature has not quite reclaimed the earth. 

If it wasn’t so dark, you might have found it more enchanting. But with the tree cover filtering the moonlight, and another screech of the owl, your heart begins to thud. 

This was yet more madness. There could be wolves or boars or bears lurking in this place, and you have to dare yourself to keep going, deciding to never speak with Aemond again if he jumps out and startles you.  

But it's a whistle which catches your attention, and you spin around, looking up to see him standing on the second floor of the tower.   

“How did you get up there?” you demand, moving to where the stairs have caved in, leaving only two steps to bring you closer to him, and both of them slippery with moss. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he taunts, walking to the edge of the floor before crouching down. 

“Do your worst,” he dares, and if he stays still, you’re feeling quietly confident with your chances as you take the time to roll the sand between your hands, fashioning it into a perfect sphere. 

Then you arch your arm back, and launch the ball as hard as you can, before watching the way it soars through the air, fast and sure, but too heavy, too flimsy. Aemond doesn’t even bother to flinch as it collides with the floor, eliciting yet more laughter. 

“This is why I hate you, you know!” you say, wiping your sand coated hands onto the soft folds of his cloak, and finding at least some pleasure in that. 

Still laughing at you, Aemond scrambles down from the tower with relative ease, before stalking closer, slowly , as though it's you who’s the most dangerous creature in these woods.  

“You don’t hate me,” he decides, “you just hate losing.” 

“I can hate two things at once, and I only lost because you ,” you point your finger at him, “had the advantage.” 

“What advantage?”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing boots, not these,” you hitch up your skirt and kick out your foot to show your shoes, dainty and made for dancing, “nor do you have to wear a gown. I should very much like to see how you’d fare if you had to scale a tower without any trousers on-” 

Just as the words leave your lips, you hear them, “I mean , you know what I mean.” 

With his laughter simmered to a soft chuckle, he lets your blunder stew in the air before inching closer. 

“Then perhaps I should remind my Lady Baratheon that she has two eyes, and the aim of a blind woman.” 

You scoff, taking full offence even if he is right, “and I suppose you're an authority on throwing balls of sand?” 

“I’d say that hardly matters anymore, and now you’re obliged to stay until I say we leave.” 

It was strange, but you’d somehow forgotten the reason you'd been chasing him in the first place, and anxiety quickly returns to the pit of your stomach. “And if someone notices I’m gone?” 

“It’s still early. They'll be drinking and dancing for quite some time I should imagine.” 

Deep down, you knew he was right, but there was always a chance, even if it was a small one, that one of your family would retire before the party was finished, then what? “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a prince, you can do as you please.” 

“Don’t worry,” Aemond promises, his voice serious even if his eye betrays him, “if my lady's virtue was to come into question, then you can be assured I would do the honourable thing and marry her.”  

“The honourable thing?” you repeat with a sharp laugh, “a punishment far worse than the accusation, I’m sure!”  

He moves closer, the toe of his boot grazing against the hem of your gown, “but not the crime?”  

You try to laugh, but really, it wasn’t hard to imagine such crimes as letting him kiss you, or the way you might fall together on the soft mossy ground. In fact, it was all too easy. 

“We are not speaking of this,” you whisper, though you hadn’t meant for your voice to lose all strength, or your body to lose all resistance, when his hands bunch into your cloak. No, his cloak. His smell.  

“Only thinking it,” he suggests, fingers curling tighter, reeling you in, “I must admit, I seem to think of little else.”    

You can’t look him in the eye, if you do, you might say something crazy like ‘so do I.’ Instead, you say, “then his grace needs better hobbies to occupy his time.” 

Aemond snorts, “perhaps you could teach me to embroider, that would certainly take up some time.” 

Trying to act more annoyed than you feel, you attempt to wrench the cloak from his grip, “perhaps lessons in manners would be better suited?” 

“Oh, I’d say it's far too late for that, wouldn’t you?”  

And he does let go of the cloak, but only so his hands can slide to cup your cheeks, and force you to look at him.  

“It’s never too late...” your words trail off, evaporating into the crisp night air. In fact, the whole forest seems to have fallen silent, perhaps the whole world, and you know you can pull away from him. But your heart is pounding, and there is something dangerous, something wanton, curling in your veins.   

Perhaps Aemond feels it too, perhaps he notices the way your breathing has slowed, just as you notice the way he’s looking at you, so tenderly- 

“Do you think Vhagar supposes where we have gotten to?” you blurt, and his eye brightens in surprise, as you tear yourself from his hands, before quickly turning towards the beach. 

Though your swift exit is certainly hampered by the rocks, which seem even more difficult to descend than they had been to climb. You almost fall down them, before Aemond overtakes you, his hands catching your waist to stop your escape. 

Or perhaps he’s just trying to stop you from breaking your neck. Either way, you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you’d been running away from him at the beach. 

The sound of the waves had been just the same, and your heart had been beating just as quickly, but your reasoning had been different. He'd been a stranger then, now he was the opposite, too familiar.  

“Perhaps it would be best to return to the party,” you say, as though returning to the party was not the least of what you wanted to do.  

“Why?” he almost laughs, “ so you can dance with Lucerys Velaryon?” 

You’d forgotten all about Luke and his half-hearted offer of a dance, but Aemond hadn’t, couldn’t , and even though his tone was light, there was quiet fury in his eye. Fury which could be abated so easily, except you didn’t want that, you wanted to turn the tide of conversation. Needing to shift it from a place where you might easily fall into his arms.  

“Why do you hate him so?” you say, even if you’re almost certain you know the answer. 

“You know why.”  

“I know rumours.” You’d heard a dozen since arriving in Kings Landing, but you’d often wondered at the truth, Aemond’s truth, even if it didn’t feel like your place to know.  

“Of the night I came to lose my eye?” he says, and hearing it said like that, you realise this was a stupid, awful , thing to bring up.  

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why ?” his head tilts, “you think me ashamed of the way I look?” 

“I...” you stutter, “didn't say that. I don’t-” 

He scoffs, “everyone pretends they cannot see my eye, when for most people, it’s the only thing they ever look at.”  

"It’s not the only thing I see,” you say, and you’re not sure why it's so important for him to know this. You were supposed to be hating him after all, but you can’t stand to think he’d ever imagine you don’t see him. All of him.   

He doesn’t say anything, and his attention turns towards the sea, his hands no longer interested in your company, and you can sense the old wound, still fresh and sore, as though it had happened only yesterday.  

Now it was you who felt like the most repugnant person in the world, and you hate yourself for the way his shoulders have stiffened, the breeze feeling so much cooler than before. Because no matter how you might have felt about Aemond Targaryen, you were sure you never wanted to hurt him. 

"Aemond ,” you reach for him, your hand finding purchase on his arm, and his muscles tense beneath the leather. Perhaps you shouldn’t notice such a thing at a time like this, but you can feel his strength, feel how he could break you apart if he really wanted to.  

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you say softly, wanting to bring him back from whatever dark place you’d sent him. But it's too late. 

He stares at the way your hand is touching him, before his eye slowly scrapes to meet with yours.   

“I was ten when I saw Vhagar on the beach,” he begins, his voice small, raw, and hearing him like this, somehow feels more intimate than any of the times he’d held you in his arms. 

“You were so young,” you say, picturing the white-haired boy, who’d dared to face the largest dragon in the world.  

“Not for a Targaryen,” he swallows, his words garnering more control, “you can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up in this family without a dragon, even the bastards had them. So, when I saw her, all alone, it was like she was waiting for me, while the rest of the world looked the other way.”   

You glance at her, sleeping peacefully on the brow of a hill, but still so fierce, so terrifying.  

“At the risk of giving you another compliment,” you say, trying to lighten the mood you have created. “I cannot believe you had the courage to tame her.”  

“You never tame a dragon.”  

You frown, uncertain, “but she is yours, is she not?”  

“It's a bond, one that will last a lifetime. And I don’t know if it was courage, so much as desire...” he steps up, so he’s standing on the same rock as you. Then his eye crinkles with the beginnings of a smile, or perhaps it's just pride for the boy he was that night. “The first few minutes of the flight almost killed me. But I clung to her so tightly, and then we were flying as one, and I knew she was mine.”  

You both turn to her now, and she snorts as though she’s listening. Perhaps she is. Perhaps her eyes are closed but her ears are open. 

“When we landed,” he continues, and together you settle down on the edge of a rock, knee pressed against knee, “I was so excited and... perhaps a little too proud, I could hardly wait to tell everyone of my triumph. But my nephews were already waiting for me, with Rhaena and Baela, and they already knew what I had done.”  

“What you had done ? You make it sound as though bonding with her was a bad thing?”  

He tilts his head, looking at you strangely, quizzically , “Rhaena wanted Vhagar for herself.”  

“But ... she chose you .”  

“And so we fought.”  

“You fought all four of them?”  

When his eye narrows into a pointed look, you cannot help but laugh, “of course you did.” This was Aemond, a child who’d mounted the largest dragon in the world, he wasn’t about to run from anything or anyone.  

“Hand to hand at first, and naturally ,” he shrugs, “none of them were any match for the hours I’d spent in the training yard. But even so, I was only one boy against four, and they just kept coming.” 

“After a while, I picked up a rock, I just wanted to frighten them,” he holds out his hand, his fingers curling at the ends, as though he can remember the very shape and weight of it, “but Jace drew his sword, just a little thing, a needle really.”  

He looks at you, and your stomach tightens, afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“He tried to swing at me, but I was taller and faster, so I knocked him down, and the sword fell away. I thought if I just kept hold of the rock, then surely they would run. It was already over, you see? Vhagar was already mine. And I’d bested them, they knew that.”  

Suddenly his hand tightens into a fist, and you imagine the rock crumbling into dust, before he wipes his palm along his thigh as though he cannot even stand to touch the memory of it. 

Then he laughs sadly, “but my nephews and I have never held any love for each other. So, when Jace saw an opportunity to throw dirt in my eyes, Luke picked up the sword, and -" 

His hand reaches towards your face so quickly you startle. But his touch is not pain or blood, it's a slow caress across your eye, sealing it shut. Yet only for a moment, instead of forever.  

“An eye for a dragon is a fair exchange,” he shrugs, but the words feel too well practiced; the hurt pushed away as though its nothing more than a speck of dust.  

Yet it was so much more, and you have to swallow the swell of tears which has caught at the back of your throat, as you think of that little boy, so proud, so excited, then broken .  

“No ,” you say, your voice strained, “what they did to you wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair.”  

The way he looks at you, almost surprised, makes your heart ache all over again. And if he was one of your sisters, you would wrap him in your arms, and hold him so tightly he'd have to fight to break free. But doing so, would cross a line you were trying desperately to avoid. 

“You know, the strange thing is, I don’t even hate them for taking my eye. We were children, and the fight was far out of hand, but they never apologised. Even now, they laugh about it, like it was a joke, like it meant nothing .” 

You hadn’t wanted to cry, but your eyes are too full, and a tear dares to break free, rolling lazily down your cheek, before its silvery trail is interrupted by the brush of Aemond’s thumb.  

“Lady Baratheon... don’t tell me you’re crying for the most repugnant man in the world?”  

Sniffling, you force a laugh before wiping the back of your hand across your eyes. “ I'm not .” 

“You know, now that I think of it,” his voice is lighter, his eye more playful, “it seems I have a habit of finding all the best things waiting for me on beaches.” 

You roll your eyes, before finding a length of cloak not sullied by the sand to pat your cheeks dry, "I’m not a dragon.”  

“Not yet .”  

The way he says that last word, so certain, you almost believe him, and force another laugh to hide any other emotion which might slip onto your face. Because sitting and talking with him like this was far too easy and far too comfortable.  

“Speaking of which,” he continues, “since my many charms have yet to convince you to stay in Kings Landing, does that mean I am to invite myself to suffer a winter in the Stormlands? Or will you be so kind as to bestow me an invitation yourself?” 

“Suffer?” you repeat with mock surprise, “I happen to like the stormy weather; I think it very beautiful.” And cosy, there was nothing better than a warm bed and a raging storm to pound against the walls.  

He brushes your hair from your shoulder, his eye tracing your face, “I’m growing rather a taste for storms myself.” 

“You should think me tame if you ever flew through a storm over Winter Solstice.” 

“That I refuse to believe,” he says, close enough that even a whisper is easily heard over the waves, and leaving you to wonder why every moment, seemed to shift into a moment which felt like he might just lean in and kiss you.  

“Well ,” you stand, pulling yourself from his gentle touches, “thanks to your mother, and this gown,” you gesture along the green silk beneath your cloak, “we are not leaving tomorrow after all.”   

Aemond’s eye widens, the blue so much brighter than before, “you’re staying?” 

“Only so we can entertain Tyland Lannister.” 

His jaw ticks, “Tyland Lannister?”  

“It's just tea ,” you add, thinking Tyland might not have been your favourite person, but he wasn’t bad, and you hardly wanted him to suffer over tea and cake.  

But Aemond doesn’t seem so convinced, and his laughter is almost a growl as he stands, and begins to climb back down the rocks, before turning to offer you his hand, “then we should leave at once, I wouldn’t want my lady to miss an afternoon in the company of another man.” 

“I’m not your lady,” you remind him, climbing down haphazardly without his assistance, “and if you must know, it was my mother who invited him.” 

“Your mother?” he ponders this information as you walk back towards Vhagar side by side, “then we shall have to remedy that .” 

Alarmed, you stare at him, trying to read his expression, but his face shows no tells. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” you say. 

His lips quirk and he has no intention of telling you. Instead, he mounts Vhagar with the same swiftness he’d used in the dragon pit, leaving you to wonder. 

Then again, you don’t wonder for too long, because all too quickly, you begin to remember that you weren’t supposed to be on a beach with Aemond in the first place.  

Then you’re only wondering one thing; if it's late enough for you to be caught. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Treat You Better Preview

“Urb, here me out. Why are you so against this? I like Y/N and I'm 98% sure that she likes me back and I'm good enough for her! I'm not like these other dudes out here that don't deserve her. I know and you do too that I'm going to treat her like she deserves.” Jack expressed as he pleaded his case. He knew that it would eventually come down to this.

"You are literally the biggest WHORE that I know of. Ain't no way in HELL. She's been off limits from the beginning and you know that."

"Look who's talking! We're adults now and she can decide for herself who she wants to date." Jack quickly shot back looking at his best friend in disbelief.

"Her track record says otherwise. She's my godsister and I'm going to do what I need to do in order to protect her."

"But from me? Protect her from me? Do you hear yourself right now? So you’re going to shelter her for the rest of her life?”

"Especially from you. I've seen your track record too with relationships and she's not someone that you hit it and quit it. And I’m not sheltering her. I’m protecting her from no good assholes.” Urban replied keeping his voice low in the hopes that you wouldn't hear him.

"I'm not going to do that with her and did you low key just call me an asshole? You know how important she is to me!” Jack was now fuming and shaking his head at him in disbelief.

"Like I said. She's my baby sister and I said no. I don't give a fuck about how you feel. End of discussion.”

“The fuck it is. We can agree to disagree.”

As Urban was getting ready to respond, you walked in the room beaming, holding Jack’s dog CoCo in your arms.

“Jack Jack, are we ready to go?” You asked as you scratched behind her ears.

“Where are you two going?” Urban asked while getting a slight attitude.

“Jack promised me an ice cream date with just the two of us. Since we couldn't do it yesterday.” You responded and Urban shot Jack the evil eye while all he did was come closer to you.

“Are you two okay? You both look tense.” You asked looking at both of their faces and Urban couldn't help but to blurt it out.

“I don't want you dating Jack.” Was all he said and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“Well Urby, that isn't for you to decide. I can date whoever I want. But I would at least think that you would approve of me dating your best friend.”

“I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Jack would never hurt me in a million years and you need to get that through your head and get over it. We mean a lot to each other and I would think that you would be happy. You don't want to see me happy?”

“Yes! Of course I do, but…”

“But what, Urban?”

“He thinks that I'm going to use you essentially and when I get what I want, leave you high and dry. Oh and also said that I'm the biggest whore he knows.” Jack finally spoke up and you looked at Urban who simply shrugged.

“I've seen him do it countless times before and he's not a relationship type of guy.”

“Urban, I love you with all of my heart, but until I ask you for your opinion, stay out of my love life. I am tired of you coddling me like I can't take care of myself. I'm not a baby anymore.”

“Fine, but when he cheats on you and breaks your heart remember that I warned you. Oh, and don't come crying to me because all I'm going to do is say I told you so.” Urban replied as he walked away bumping Jack’s shoulder on purpose but he decided to ignore him.

“Urby!”

“Nope, don't want to hear it.”

“URBAN HENRY WYATT!”

“Enjoy your date.”

As he walked off, you turned back to Jack Who could tell that you were clearly upset.

“Just give him some time. He'll come around.” Jack told you as he kissed your forehead, but he wasn't quite sure if he believed those words himself.

[bugs1nmybrain]

Fruity Drinks: L x Reader - Drunk Sex (Minors Don't Interact)

Writer's Notes: Can you tell that I'm running out of ideas? First Shigaraki's stoned smut and now L's drunk smut. I don't encourage substance use!! It's just funny to write about with my favorite characters.

Warnings: VERY ooc L, silly L, fem reader, alcohol use, drunk sex (L and reader are both drunk), the reader is described as a young adult, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, no penetrative sex, comedy smut sorta, lame and cheesy but kind of fluff ending

How L ended up agreeing to this little arrangement was beyond him. It wasn't that he had never consumed alcohol before. There were a few times when he'd buy a sweet drink from a nice restaurant when he went out. Drinking enough to get drunk, though? L couldn't recall ever doing that. He hated the idea of his judgement and self-control being impaired.

However, he had recently solved a very internationally significant case. You insisted that he and you should celebrate. L didn't really understand the point, he solved cases left and right all the time. He had so many under his belt that it didn't necessarily add to his notoriety anymore. In actuality, though, you simply wanted a night where you and L felt like two typical young adults, wanting to have some fun and loosen up. His solving his latest case was merely an excuse, a poor one in L's opinion.

So you and him sat in one of his more cozy rooms at his house. The room was big and decorated nicely. You questioned if L had chosen the interior design or if it was how the room was before he purchased the house. Or maybe a product of Watari's doing? Themes of white and gold rained prominent throughout the room, which added to the novelty. In front of you and L were many drinks, accompanied by juices and soda that you thought would make the drinks more tolerable. L expressed to you that he could hardly bear the taste of alcohol, so you made sure to accommodate him with some easier options.

"So, it must feel nice to have gotten that case out of the way," you comment.

A part of L was agitated by that question, perceiving it as petty small talk. "Yes, it is. Admittedly, every time I solve a case, I feel disappointed knowing there's no more to uncover from said case; that the war has been won. The satisfaction from my victory is more to compensate for it, though. I'll just have to go searching for another, now."

"Mhm. Did you have any ideas on what drinks you were interested in?" you asked.

"Hard to say. Something sweet, for sure."

"No need to over-explain yourself. I'm sure it'll be perfectly fine."

You chuckle at his very obvious statement, "I could've guessed that. I heard that vodka cranberries were sweet, so I chose stuff for that, if it's alright. I will warn you that I am not someone who mixes drinks often. I kind of don't even know what I am doing, but I tried coming prepared."

So you continued to pour L a drink, mixing vodka and cranberry juice like an amateur bartender. You also made yourself one, hoping that the matching drinks would provide some nice bonding between the two of you. When you were done, you handed your lover his drink and he held the glass with his pointer and thumb, eyeballing it for a moment.

"This would have been nice with some cherries," he comments.

"I'll remember that for next time," you chuckle, taking a sip from your drink.

L began drinking his beverage as well, furrowing his brows at the sting of the alcohol in his throat. You eyeball him, finding his face of discomfort adorable.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"Yes, love. It's not as bad as I thought. I think the cranberry juice dilutes the taste of the alcohol, but there's still a burning sensation."

"Makes sense."

"Why exactly are we doing this again?"

"To have fun. Loosen up a little."

"Ah, I see. You know that I'm not one to do this sort of thing. Especially not anything that would impair my reasoning abilities."

"I know. Is it okay? We can stop if you'd like."

"I didn't mean that, exactly. Honestly, I'm a little curious to what you are like while intoxicated. Is that strange of me to say?" he questions, giving you an engaged expression.

"That's true, though. Perhaps I should indulge your curiosity. You deserve the privilege for being such an outstanding girlfriend, " he eyes you with a neutral expression.

You blush and laugh a bit, "No. I don't mind that."

Honestly, L being nosy was something that was a surprising turn on often.

"I actually wanted to see how you'd be, honestly. I've never seen you drunk or high or anything like that and I was curious on how your behavior would shift."

"You're the perfect psychologist."

You chuckle abruptly in response.

You laugh at his compliments, feeling a sense of comfort in knowing his admiration for you. L continues to drink his vodka cran, watching you as you drink yours as well.

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

About an hour rolls by and you and L are absolutely hammered. This was a surprise for sure. L had never submitted to this kind of lack of cognitive control, and you had surely never seen this side of him.

The two of you hadn't simply sat there and drank. You had turned on some crime documentary and sat side by side, with your form leaning onto his shoulder. L seemed to really be enjoying his drinks, as he downed one after the other. It was actually very concerning. In truth, he just really liked the taste of them and you two hadn't gotten snacks.

It seemed that L could hold his liquor quite well, and he did when he was simply watching TV. Until now. You sat as the documentary began to give the viewers options as to who they thought the suspect was in the series of murders. L went from dead quiet to deeply and prominently vocal, so much so that it startled you.

"It's him. How..? A seven year old could guess who the murderer is...that one-uh-guy."

Your eyes shot wide open and you tried your hardest to hold in a laugh.

"I'm shutting this off," L announces, clumsily reaching for the remote. He grips it sluggishly and flicks the tv off, slouching back onto the couch. He still sat in his typical position but with his head titled to the side, looking as though he was about to fall over.

You hadn't exactly processed your own intoxication up to this point. It was terribly difficult not to hold back your laughter, and ultimately, you failed. You let out the most uncensored laugh, and L shot his face your way with his finger pressed to his lip.

"What's funny?"

"You. You're cute."

"Oooooh. Yes, you tell me that very often."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh no need..my love. You're, quite "cute" yourself. Did you know that?"

Your flustered face beams a glow, both from the alcohol and your embarrassment. You continue to chuckle for way too many seconds. You sat rigidly in response, thighs pressed together and hands on top of them.

"You..."L begins. You could tell that him never being drunk before contributed to his very apparent intoxication.

"You're so pretty. Your hair,,, and your eyes...you're..how did I manage to end up with such a beautiful lady?? You're so gorgeous, Y/N."

He was plastered. This was hilarious. You thought he was lying but when you looked at him and saw his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy, along with his finger teasing his lips, you could tell he was genuine. He was cute, so much so that you couldn't control more flustered laughter escaping your lips.

"Am I funny?" L asked. You couldn't tell if he was insulted or not. You hoped that it wasn't the case, as your laughter was far from out of a malicious nature.

"Yeah. I think you're the funniest person I know. You make me laugh without even meaning to, like all the time."

"Hmm...you like me that much? Do I have really have that affect on you?"

Even though you were very drunk, you could hear the tone of his voice become rather flirtatious, though uncoordinated.

"I've noticed, Y/N. You're rather addicted to my attention. And when you look at me, your face lights up. Your body tenses. Your speech becomes stammered. I'm not referring to the alcohol, nuh uh. You love me."

"Yes, of course, I love you. Why wouldn't I?"

You felt hurt a little, so you held your head down. It made you upset, because yes, he was a rather sneaky and occasionally manipulative partner. He wasn't harsh or anything, or trying to corrupt you, at least you thought. But he would try and pry out information and reactions from you, and get you to say things that would help him understand your tricks and own manipulation tactics.

"Because I am a treacherous, inhumane liar. Who's to say..I'm not lying right now? About how pretty you are, hm?"

L is always a thousand steps ahead of you, easily picking up on your suspicions of the genuineness in his compliments.

"Lovee...don't frown. I didn't meaan that. I actually, have proof. That you're pretty."

"Huh?"

"Yes. Do you want to see the evidence?????"

The drunkenness of yourself and his slurred speech confused you and so you cocked an eyebrow and let out another, "Huh?"

"Come here..Sit right here, next to me."

So you complied. You scooched directly next to L. He reaches to cup your shoulder and presses you close to him. He takes your hand carefully and sets it down over his crotch. Your heart jumps at the touch of his stabbing bulge, straining against his jeans.

"You see, do you see my point?"

You could feel his point, for sure. An unexpected moan escapes your lips, and you can feel yourself become wet instantly from the knowledge of his attraction to you. It didn't help that you loved his cock, either. You feel incredibly embarrassed at the noise you made uncontrollably, and bury your face into your hands.

"No, don't do that, my love." He takes your hand and sets it on his bulge again. "I want you. Would you be willing to indulge me? In your beauty?"

"Mmmmm...yea. Yea, I'd..like that a lot," Your verbal communication has gone out the window and you are unable to manage your composure at all. "Y-yes..yes please..."

"You're so cute," without much warning, L crawls on top of you, fumbling as he does so. He hovers over you and looks you in the eyes for a moment as his hair falls downward. With lustful, lidded eyes he makes his way to kiss the nape of your neck. Even intoxicated, he manages to maintain his romantic and calculated movements, even if they are a little sloppy.

"Mmm!"

"That's it..."

L's desperate need for stimulation encourages him to grind his clothed cock on your thigh for relief. He groans as he kisses your neck, lightly nipping at it. Your gasps cause him to twitch in his pants and he yearns out in painful arousal.

"Mmm, you're soooo pretty. Can I see your breasts? They're so nice. I want to see them."

It was a little humorous when L would talk about your body. He hardly used slang terms, such as tits. His use of clinical language was cute, though awkward. You nod with an eager, "mhm."

It took him a bit to remove your shirt and unhook your bra. Surprising for him, L is usually so good at coordinated actions. Once you were exposed for him, he merely stared at you for many seconds, cock pulsing at the sight of you.

"Oh my goodness," he comments, making you embarrassed.

You can feel your face flush and grow hotter and hotter, as well as your cunt. You couldn't help it when you began squirming your thighs together in arousal, and L let out a sigh at the impact of your movements against his erection. His penis was painfully sensitive, perhaps caused by blood flow from the alcohol.

You gripped his pants, pulling the hem to release his member so you could touch him. You tuck your hand under his waistband and wrap your fingers gently around him. He sighed heavily as you stroked him clumsily. His hips rocked himself into your hand, basking in how good it felt.

"Are you,, do you feel good?" you ask with a slurred tone.

"You have no idea."

He continues nipping at your neck. His hands were relentless, searching for any part of your body to squish or tease.

"Are you turned on?" L asks with a tone of voice that makes him almost sound guilty. He knew full well he was losing control of his gravitation toward you and perhaps wasn't being the most romantic or courteous.

"How about you look for evidence?"

"Hmm.."

L did just that, hand slipped into your pants to feel your pussy. When he discovered you had a hot, wet secretion that drenched you, he slowly plunged two fingers inside out you. You whimper in tension, but once he began rubbing your special spot, your body relaxed to his touch.

His fingers pulled out, making sure to rub your clitoris a bit. The lubricant from your pussy made his motions much more fluid. Fuck, even while he was hammered he was so precise. Sloppier than usual, but still knew exactly what they were doing.

"I...i want to taste you so badly right now," he yearns as he stops fingering you. He begins moving his way down to your crotch but you grip his hair before he can make it.

"I want to..to make you feel good, too. Let me do it to you."

"What? No. I want to bury my face in you, like right now. I don't have time for your mouth."

wow.

"I think people do like, 69? Right?"

"I'm not extremely educated in that department. But...that could be nice.."

You and L exchange a few more lusty kisses until he pushes you to lie on top of him. "You should turn the other way, right?"

Without a response you turned your body so that your ass was facing him. Your cunt hovered above him, to which he glanced at for a few moments. He cupped his hands around your ass and pulled you down so that your heat was pressed against his mouth.

You yelp quietly at the contact. You hadn't ever tried 69 and the position was rather vulnerable. However, the way L was devouring your cunt made it clear he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

He lied down with his legs crunched so that his knees were bent. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few tender strokes and finally stuffing it in your mouth. L moaned against your pussy, enhancing the stimulation. He sucked on your clit vigorously while holding you in place.

L was interesting in that he adored eating you out. You felt bad as if you were a burden for wanting that kind of pleasure. He never objected, though. He had a pretty significant oral fixation, and running his tongue along your cunt was strangely soothing. Plus, the added bonus of the pride he felt when he made you cum was incredibly rewarding.

Blowing him was kind of difficult right now. Your mouth had a hard time coordinating, but you managed to bob your head along him. He must've been enjoying it by the muffles he made against your cunt. L's cock was a bit long, which made taking his whole length tricky. His hips jolted forward on impulse, gagging you a little.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's..okay," you said in between kisses along his cock. L wanted to chuckle at how you were treating his length, but he was far too concentrated on making you cum. You were taking a little longer than usual, but it was alright. L simply thrust his fingers inside of you for a bit and rubbed your G-spot.

He could feel himself building slowly, and he wondered if he could make the two of you orgasm at the same time.

"Mmfm...you taste incredible," he comments. "You're so pretty down here, too."

L's praise always made your heart jolt a little. Sometimes you questioned his sincerity, but he seemed to want you to feel good about yourself for whatever reason. It still made you feel validated nonetheless.

You hummed on his dick in a pleasant response. L kept running his tongue along your clit in consistent motions, and you can start feeling your cunt quiver. L knows, recognizing the way your pussy twitched in his mouth. A smirk grazes his face as your cunt spasms in convulsions and you have to pop your head up for air as you mewl uncontrollably. L allows himself to let go as well as his cum spurts out onto your face while you gave him a mess as well.

You and L both were panting, absolutely overwhelmed by your sensations. An instant exhaustion washed over and you collapsed on top of him.

"Come here," L requests. You pull yourself to face him and L kisses you deeply, not caring about the swapping of genital fluids. "Tonight has been very pleasant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hehe...I suppose. That felt very, very good."

"I thought so, perhaps we should do that more often."

"What about the drinking, should we do that more often?

"Honestly, I'm not the biggest fan. I feel very out of control of my inhibitions," he admits. Tonight was surely fun, though.

"That makes sense."

"I liked tonight though. And I'm happy I got to spend time with you."

"Me too," you fall on L's chest, and if he wasn't so drunk, he'd probably leave once you fell asleep. But he let himself drift along with you this time, enjoying your warmth. You were already sleeping, but he planted a kiss on your temple and allowed himself comfort in your love for him.

[stuckinapril]

u don’t have to answer this if u don’t want to or u feel u don’t have anything to say on it (obvi) but how do u deal with jealousy and comparison?

i genuinely just like my shit. i love how i look like, i love my stuff, i love where i come from, i love my family and friends, and i appreciate all the circumstances (good and bad) that have led me to be the person i am today. i've done a lot of esteemable things that have bolstered my confidence growing up, like getting an extremely hard degree and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone more than ever before. i treat other people w kindness and respect. i make sure to be a source of support rather than needless negativity. what people think of me (or have) doesn't get under my skin anymore, bc i've already proven my worth to myself. the fact of the matter is, i'll always hold my own opinion of myself higher than i do other people's opinions of me. i'm at a place where i just don't care that much. i've lost the need to correct people on their takes of me a long time ago.

my own happiness is king--everything else is secondary. if i like it, that's enough for me.

i find it pointless to compare myself to somebody else, simply because no two people have been dealt the exact same cards. i wouldn't compare a rose to a lily, so why should i be comparing myself to people who're--no matter who they are, no matter where they're from--never gonna be me? i'm me. the only person i should be comparing myself to is my past self. i am only in competition w myself. that is all.

as for jealousy, viewing people who have things i want as proof of concept has really helped. if another person gets a higher score on a test, i don't get jealous that they outdid me. i just view them as proof that i can get that score if i studied more efficiently. someone else's success isn't a lack of your own--it's just proof you can reach that success, even if the route doesn't look exactly the same, even if it might take longer.

contentment is entirely subjective. i've known wealthy people who're incredibly miserable. i've known people who struggle financially but could not be happier. other people's advantages don't rattle me, bc i don't care about them, bc i'm so eternally grateful for what i already have. i've also never really been that materialistic to begin with, so i've always understood that a person's worth lies in who they are rather than what they own (whether it be things, money, opportunities...). i can say w my whole chest that i wouldn't swap places w the most famous, most rich celebrity there is. i legitimately don't want to. i know that even if i have to work harder for things, i'll have more to say by the end of it all, and that in and of itself is so profound. not to mention the satisfaction from having challenged myself to get there--and i love a good challenge.

i've unleared the idea that i should view other women as competition. life is hard, we all struggle, we'll be living in a man's world for a long time, and it's just not worth the energy. yeah i'm ambitious, but not at the expense of other people. there's enough room for everyone. another woman's achievement doesn't mean less space for mine. we'll all be fine.

w all that said!! there are bad days. no human is just confident all the time, doesn't feel jealous all the time, doesn't compare themself all the time, doesn't let people's opinions get under their skin all the time. don't feel bad for doing it every now and then. it's natural and normal and just part of the human experience. nobody is perfect. just focus on you, view other people as inspiration rather than competition, and compare your progress to nobody else's but your own. it's been a game changer for me :)

[minsarasarahair]

Maybe because I haven't meet Shen Jiu yet and I'm only in Book 2...

This is just my take but the character closest to Jiang Cheng so far is Luo Binghe... Sure, there are similarities with Liu Qingge as well but its fewer compare to Luo Binghe so far... At least, for me? To make more clear, what I meant is they both undergo similar emotional rollercoaster when the person they trusted suddenly abandoned them.

Betrayal - First of all, their negative feelings toward Wei Wuxian and Shen Qingqiu are valid because they felt/assume they are betrayed. What's wrong is their actions of hurting others because of it. Wei Wuxian left Yunmeng Jiang for Wen Remnants, accidentally killed Jin Zixuan with Wen Ning, and Jiang Yanli's death. From Jiang Cheng's perspective, Wei Wuxian abandoned him and Wei Wuxian didn't respect his aspiration to be sect leader. Shen Qingqiu pushed Luo Binghe to the ravine because System told him so. From his perspective, he's being abandoned by his Shizun simply because he has demon blood which isn't fair because its not his fault that he's a mixed blood.

Conflicted - Their conflict as a character is determining someone important to them if they are good or bad. Jiang Cheng's character arc is him determining if Wei Wuxian's newfound cultivation is bad or not. Does Wei Wuxian really betray him? Does Wei Wuxian doesn't care about his promise back then to him to Jiang Cheng or Jiang Cheng becoming sect leader? Hence, his obsession in hunting demonic cultivators to find answers but later he let go of Wei Wuxian and even returned the flute used by Wei Wuxian for his dangerous cultivation. Implying Wei Wuxian is not bad like what the rumors say and this is his final judgement. Its similar to Luo Binghe's conflict whether Shen Qingqiu is an abuser or actually regret what he did? Is he actually kind and only strict to help him grow stronger?

Temper - Both of them show how scary they are when they lose their temper. Again, this is my only opinion but I don't think that's their whole character. Yes, I joke around Jiang Cheng is an angry grape but his interaction with other than few "specific" people seems fine? He's actually calmer than I expected as sect leader or martial brother. This angry side of him became more prominent after the Yunmeng Jiang massacre, and Wei Wuxian's departure. Before all of this, Jiang Cheng is a good kid in a toxic household who's only trying to please his parents. He don't exactly hate Wei Wuxian yet. Jealous, yes. On the contrary, he values his brother-like connection with Wei Wuxian. Similar to Luo Binghe who's just a good kid through in through who want to meet his Shizun's expectations then after the betrayal of his Shizun, that's only when he lose his cool. He also values the master-disciple relationship with Shen Qingqiu.

The one who Chase - They are the one who keep chasing then want to lock up Wei Wuxian and Shen Qingqiu to probably interrogate them so they ended up using underhanded action to make it happen. Jiang Cheng use Wei Wuxian's fear of dogs against him. Luo Binghe put his demon blood inside Shen Qingqiu so he can find him easily and can hurt him if he didn't obey him.

Miscommunication - This is the result of their assumptions because the people they wish to talk to are refusing to say anything to them. After the death of Wei Wuxian and Shen Qingqiu, they became more unhinged lol Luo Binghe kept Shen Qingqiu's body while Jiang Cheng still believe Wei Wuxian is not dead so he's obsessed in demonic cultivators. Interesting that both Wei Wuxian and Shen Qingqiu's deaths are blamed to Jiang Cheng and Luo Binghe in the story. Wei Wuxian self-detonate during Jiang Cheng's siege and Shen Qingqiu's self-detonate to help Luo Binghe overcame the Xin Mo. Then we have Ning Yingying and Wen Ning explaining to them that the people who died deeply care about them actually. In addition, both of them lead a siege in their respective story.

The difference of course is Shen Qingqiu returned to Luo Binghe while Wei Wuxian didn't returned to Jiang Cheng. Romance-driven Luo Binghe stick closer to Shen Qingqiu but Duty-driven Jiang Cheng let go of Wei Wuxian.

I think I need to be more specific because others assume I'm seeing Book 2 in romantic lens. No. I don't ship BingQiu yet during this part so I'm merely talking about the platonic relationship that's why it reminds me of Yunmeng Shuangjie. An older brother figure and younger brother figure who's abandoned story. Are we clear?

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

This was the hardest monthly wrap up I ever had to do because I forgot about it until like two days ago and my brain is not at its best and I'm tired so I can't really write a lot. So anyway as usual, spoilers and opinions below, read at your own risk.

QL - Currently Watching

🇹🇼 Blue Canvas of Youthful Days [2/12] - I really like the look of this show and all the art. I'm not yet sold on the main couple as a possible item but I really like the characters individually. I adore the second couple. The scene with the hearing aid was beautiful and I like the fact that it's not about the couple. Perhaps in a bl from a different country this would be about them finally being able to communicate, but because Liu knows sign language, it's simply about helping Tan Yin. Don't know why but I really liked this.

🇰🇷🇹🇭 Eccentric Romance [8/12] - It's not the worst thing ever but at several points during the episodes I find myself asking, what am I watching?

🇹🇭 Every You, Every Me [4/8] - This show constantly surprises me. The different stories every week and the aspec rep was how they got me at first but now I'm invested in the meta and the absolutely adorable mains. And this show is just so gorgeous to watch.

🇹🇭 Fourever You [5/16] - Beautiful Pond. Cute Earth. I'm annoyed. Hopefully the next couple is better in terms of storyline.

🇹🇭 Jack & Joker [8/12] - Can they just get together first and then give me all the drama? I'm okay with that. I actually liked Love Mechanics, so give it to me. But Jack is all over the place with his behaviour, he says Joke is family and they seem to have a shared view of the future, and they sure behave as if they're a couple, but then he hides things from Joke, supposedly 'for his own good'. I feel for Joke, because he's being jerked around by Jack.

🇹🇭 Kidnap [8/12] - I love Ohm. And that is the one and only reason I'm still here.

🇰🇷 Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo [6/8] - I'm obsessed. I think about this show way too much. It's painful and beautiful, brilliant writing and visuals and I need it to be over but I don't want it to end. I think we're gonna have a second time skip since they are not in our present yet and I just want to see them happy.

🇰🇷 Love in the Big City [4/8] - Obsessed in a total different way. This story is like an open tab in my brain at all times. I'm dreaming of edits and gifsets. I think of Young and my chest tightens. I'm having a hard time writing about the second part of the show because it's just so much, although it feels lighter than the novel. I'm dreading the next part.

🇯🇵 Love is a Poison [7/10] - I love it here. Everything about it. This being Shiba's first love sure explains a lot, and the onsen date was amazing. I think the actors are nailing this.

🇹🇭 Peaceful Property [10/12] - I've said enough about it. I'm here for TayNew and trying to just ignore everything else.

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners [1/24] - And so it begins. Every gmmtv boy is here and they are all playing engineers. They got two Flukes and everything. I wish Force wasn't once again an asshole jock and Book the clueless fool but I guess that's too much to ask. This is the couple I'm least interested here so I want to see the rest.

🇹🇼 See Your Love [3/13] - Taiwan just doing giving all the rep with disabled characters and as usual a parade of bl actors. It's fine for now.

🇯🇵 Smells like Green Spirit [6/9] - I love Mishima. I think the scenes with him and Kirino are always great. I'm still not totally on board with the romance but I'm somewhat fascinated with Yumeno.

QL - Finished

🇹🇼 First Note of Love - I feel like I need to rewatch this as a binge because I think this format didn't help this particular show. Although I like the mains and I really liked the actors, their romance never truly clicked for me. I need more of the sides. The language banter was my favourite thing about this.

🇹🇭 I Saw You In My Dream - This is super cute. They are all adorable and they actually communicate. Ultimately I was a little underwhelmed about the concept.

🇹🇭 Monster Next Door - It's fine. I like Big and he was great here. But I've already forgotten everything about this.

🇭🇰 Our Golden Times - I watched it. It was okay.

🇹🇭 Reverse 4 You - Pretty show. Good concept. Not great execution all the way through.

Dropped / On Hold

Waiting to binge - 🇹🇭 The Loyal Pin | 🇹🇭 Apple | ��🇳 Teenager Judge

Rose Watches OJBL

Same Difference aka Docchi mo Docchi (2014) - I don't even know what to say. It's not good. That's it.

Others - Watched

🇯🇵Densetsu no Head Sho| 🇰🇷Black Out | 🇯🇵Double

Upcoming Shows - November

As usual my ask box is open. Have a wonderful weekend💜

[nyxthejinx]

Heya!

I just saw your open for request post and want to commission an Cyno x gn!reader, please? :) a fluffy and spicy drabble would be lovely. Maybe smth like.. the reader is good friends with Cyno and Tighnari but the reader went on a journey thru teyvat and met the Aether (traveler) on their way and since then they traveled together and been thru much so they have a connection ofc and then when the reader and Aether visit sumeru and they meet Cyno - he will get all jealous? Cause he sees how close they are and he fears that he missed his chance with the reader? But obvsly its not like that and yeah. A lil bit of making out at the end, please? cause Cyno needs to let out some steam after his jealously :^)

Thank you for doing requests btw!

FIRST. It took ages but I was able to sell my soul in exchange for inspiration only recently, I'm so sorry. SECOND thank YOU for asking, I wasn't sure about this until the 3am among us potion made it work. THIRD beautiful pfp, akaza bb fr i love him a normal amount I promise. FOURTH it's 5 am, literally I'm not kidding, I tried to proofread and all that but I don't even know what's my name anymore so I'm sorry for typos and shit. FIFTH I hope It makes sense, enjoy 💀

𝐓𝐖: Fluff and obviously spice (making out, vague allusions to the dirty deeds ;) ), use of petnames (dear, love), lemme know if I missed something.

𝐅𝐭.: Cyno, Aether (but he's your homie) - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Rendezvous - Little Mix (god this song is such a banger)

Cyno fears nothing.

"Cyno, this is Aether."

Cyno fears one thing.

He'd felt so happy after reading your last letter. You said you'd be back in a few days with a special surprise, but honest to Archons the fact you'd be coming back to him - for him, he’d wanted to say, but not dared to- was enough of a present.

He surely wasn't expecting that this "surprise" would be none other than the Traveler who's saved Sumeru, though. A charming blondie who drifts a bit too close to you, in Cyno's opinion.

"We met in Liyue, he's amazing." You smile, squeezing the blond's shoulder. "He's a well known traveler across Teyvat, even in regions he has yet to visit!"

"I just help those who need it, not that much of a big deal."

Aether blushes and rubs his neck. Aether blushes. And you're touching him in a way that only close friends do.

It's fine, Cyno wants to think. You're allowed to do whatever you want in your life, he sure as hell won't stand in your way. He already stepped aside back in the days, as you excitedly told him how one of his worst fears came true you were leaving for adventure.

Everything to make you happy.

But his mixed feelings would always get in the way and unleash endless internal conflicts. It wasn't simply about not having you around, it was some kind of longing sitting inside his chest and screaming at you not to go.

It was the distance that made him realise: he was, and still is, far too in love for his own good.

And Aether could get in the way of that.

"We meet again, Traveller." The General nods, pushing down such shameful thoughts. "I'm glad to see you are both fairing well."

"It's all thanks to [Name], actually." Aether nudges you in the ribs. "They're really helpful, no matter the task."

You smirk. "Oh, what an honour. The traveller complementing me, a common, mortal nobody."

"Hey, I'm not that annoying!"

"Maybe. But you sure snore at night. That is annoying."

"Wh-! I don't. I know for a fact-"

No, you don't sound like close friends. You sound like a married couple. What just happened in this handful of months? Did Cyno hesitate too long and lost his chance? Now that he had decided to expose his deepest feelings?

"You guys! Paimon is starving here."

Paimon's shrill voice cuts short the bicker, as the Matra's jaw clenches. Good time, credits to Paimon, but seeing the two of you stroll towards the tavern didn't ease the knot in his chest the slightest.

Your laughter wasn't addressed to him nor to his uncanny jokes. He wasn't the one making you smile.

He was the moon and he'd just been eclipsed by the Traveller's brightest light.

Dinner was... Gut wrenching, to say the least.

You'd known Cyno long enough to tell apart his feelings even as he wears that stoic facade of his. While Paimon and the Traveller didn't have a single clue about the situation, you could feel his dry gaze burning holes on both of your figures, as if the sun had ascended back to the skies and everything around had turned desert.

He was feeling something you'd never quite seen within him.

It took you a bit too long to realise that the fair, lawful General Mahamatra was jealous, of all things.

He was so subtle with it, carefully hid his resentment in his voice and choice of words, in his gestures and mannerisms. But worst of all he didn't propose a single joke during the meal, not even when you laid the chance on a silver platter for him.

That had your mind reeling for the rest of your time together, and even afterwards, as you waved goodnight to Aether and Paimon. As you walked these streets you still know by heart with your dearest friend by your side.

As you choked on the thick air surrounding the two of you.

Maybe you should've left Aether out of it, for the first day, at least. Cyno hadn't seen you in so long, perhaps he didn't like the way Aether inadvertently hogged your attention the entire time when all he wanted was to hear about your adventures.

Yeah, you'd been an idiot for that one.

But, you still had an ace up your sleeve. Quite literally. One that would grant you his forgiveness and hopefully help you say the words to him.

Because of course, it took you less than a week far from him to realise you were smitten for this dad-jokes-spitting being.

You patted your side as you approached Razan Garden in all its glory, and sighed at the feeling of the rectangular box still inside. You could do it, you had to! It took you months of preparation, you wouldn't let it go to waste.

"[Name]." Cyno's voice was soft, as if to match the atmosphere lingering in the marble gazebo. He'd stopped a couple steps ahead of you, but didn't turn to meet your eyes. "My congratulations and best wishes."

You alt abruptly at that. Where the hell is it coming from?

"Uh, thank you?" You quirk a brow. "Did I do something special without knowing?"

He chuckles under his breath. Yes, you are special and he's grateful a being so perfect can exist in this world and is part of his life. But he would never tell you that.

He turns instead. His eyes rich with emotion, gentler. "I'm beyond glad that you found the right person out there, [Name]."

Oh. Oh.

"I only ever hoped for your happiness and well-being, during this period of time."

"Cyno, wait a sec-"

He takes a step forward. "If I had to voice my honest thoughts... I must admit I couldn't find peace of mind knowing you would've been out there alone."

"Cyno-"

"But I see you're perfectly capable of handling your own," the man sighs, shakes his head. A small smile curves his lips. "Just like you've always done."

"Oi-"

And then he's placing loose hands on your shoulders, as if he's in some kind of automatic mode and has to finish the speech at all costs.

For a moment you think he's gone absolutely senile. "Still, I'm relieved you have someone who can watch your back, now. He's a kind-hearted person, level headed, the best you could wish for-"

"Archons' fucking sake, Cyno! Will you hear me out a damn second?"

Cyno almost jumps back, taken out of his weird reverie, but you're quick to trap his face between your hands. You're close, closer than you'd wanted to, unfocused in your frustrated fervor. So much his breath warms the apple of your cheek, as it wasn't burning already.

You take a breath and force more words out before you can cower away from it. "I get where you're coming from, I neglected you today and acted like a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for that."

You lower your gaze to the ground. Now or never. "But it's you, okay? It's always been you! I could travel across all Teyvat and even Celestia, but it's you and just you. So drop that thing you're on about please."

That was disgustingly corny. But hopefully did the trick, you guess.

A beat passes. Then two. You don't see his face, you don't have the courage to take a look at the mess you've made. Him being jealous didn't mean he liked you, not necessarily. Maybe you should've given him the TCG deck and call it a night.

Another beat goes by.

"So... You and Aether are not...?"

He's gonna be the death of you.

You groan, a guttural sound that shouts exasperation from the deepest parts of your chest. All rationality goes to hell as you drag him closer and slam your lips together.

You're kissing him. Archons you're kissing him-

There's no time for Cyno to react. You're pulling away in a frenzy, hoping the ground will open for the Abyss to swallow you right now. You kissed one of your friends only to prove that you're single, and in fact attracted to them. Could it be worse than that? More humiliating and disrespectful to him?

"I'm so sorry!" You wave your hands around. "I shouldn't have without your permission! Are you okay?"

You search his expression for any sign of discomfort; he looks absolutely flabbergasted, but somehow weirdly composed like a bronze statue. His lips -god you'd just kissed them- are parted in the slightest, his eyes wide and yet still. The calm before the storm.

He's showing yet another sentiment you've never really seen him wear.

"Again." Cyno says.

You blink. "Uh?"

You feel his hand slither behind you and circle your waist, as he pushes your body closer. His skin is running hot like the desert's sands and you curse at his choice, or better lack of clothes.

His silver hair falls like a curtain, his eyes sharp. Dangerous, even, if you're not careful enough.

"Please, do it again. I think I've just seen the gates of Celestia." He mutters close to your lips.

That sounds more like him. You can't help but snort at his choice of words, shuddering all the same. The implications of said words dig a flaming hole in your chest.

"How can you be so smart, but dum dum at the same time?" You whisper, one hand traveling to the back of his neck, the other busying itself with stray locks of hair.

And you dip in for another kiss. One you sigh into, one that can be called kiss, actually. It's slower, but full all the same, scorching hot, pushed by feelings that were repressed for too long.

Cyno locks his free hand at your nape, never possessive, although firm. Small sounds bubble in the back of his throat when you bite at his lower lip, then backs just enough to mutter a couple words.

"Can you really blame me? It feels like a dream coming true." He pecks your lips, then presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. "I was scared you'd chosen him."

"So, all those pretty words from before?" You exhale a breathy laugh, cradling his jaw.

"I'd give away everything I have and am if it meant you'd be happy. I could only wish you the best and support you." Cyno smiles, pouting after the next words leave his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I would be fully content with the outcome."

Your brain has turned to mush. This man is too dangerous for this world, a hazard for you and your poor little heart that feels like exploding. It's a threat to your common sense and rationality. But most of all, it's damaging your brakes.

What he's telling you should not be legal.

"Archons, come here." And you kiss, and kiss, kiss again and again. You map each other's bodies with your hands as if it was the last time you'd be seeing each other. You press your mouths, clatter your teeth, intertwine your tongues.

You're straight up devouring in the dead silence of the night, in a public space. But as indecent the sounds you're both making are, it feels as if the world around blurred and blended into nothingness.

You've found yourself with your back to a wall, somehow, a couple buttons loose, skin hit by the cold air of the night. You -surely more clothed than Cyno- are an absolute mess, whereas his appearance doesn't falter much even at your hands' mercy.

It's unfair, he's unfair. He has no right to be this damn perfect even in the face of chaos.

"Not here, Cy." You manage to utter. "Let's go home."

His hand stops halfway up your shirt and he detaches from your neck with a small grunt, red splotches forming already thanks to his work. He doesn't sound pleased with your choice, but wordlessly complies, knocking you off your feet and picking you up so easily it's unfair.

And embarrassing.

You deadpan. "Seriously?"

He finds your eyes, suddenly composed as if nothing happened. "You seemed quite unstable on your legs, dear."

You're audibly gasping at that, whacking his chest and glaring daggers. "You!"

"Let's continue it home, now."

Cyno is really going to be the death of you, in many ways you'd never even considered.

It's almost dawn when you finally let yourselves snuggle up to each other in the peace of your home. More like his home, since yours needs more than a bit of cleaning after months of disuse, but he's made it clear already: everything that's his is also yours.

Cyno traces patterns on the bare skin of your arm, as you card through the knots on the back of his head, formed after... Recent activity. He seems too lost in your touch to even be awake, when his fingers stop.

"What was the surprise, in the end? Was it the confession?"

Your hands still, your face tightening at the question. When did you even... Oh, right.

"Would you be satisfied if I said yes?"

He pinches you.

"Owie!"

"You should know that what has been of this night matters more than anything, to me. Of course I would be satisfied." Cyno raises a thin brow, as his hand starts to descend agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "Was I not clear enough about my feelings? Perhaps you need a reminder-"

"Whoa, hold your horses, General." You chuckle, planting a kiss on his forehead before leaning over to your bedside table, where your bag had been thrown previously. "There was no way I'd come back empty handed after all these months, yanno?"

You pull out the wrapped box, place it in his hands. Cyno stares at it quizzically, but opens the packaging with care after you nudge him in the side.

Oh, his expression is so, so priceless. Cute, too cute, so cute you could die right now on the spot for excess of sugar in your blood. He looks like a kid who's just received the toy he oh so wanted and ranted about.

"It's not just any deck," You explain. "It's a deck made of cards I've gathered around from different regions. Some were more challenging to get, but I've been playing with you for a long time, haven't I? Of course I'd win."

Meanwhile Cyno takes the liberty to browse its contents, and just like you said, they're not from Sumeru. He's barely ever seen them, some are literally unknown, and he's ecstatic at the sight. How long did it take? How much effort?

"This is…" there's no right term to describe it. "Wonderful. You are wonderful, [Name]."

He goes for a hug and you feel like your bodies fit perfectly in each other's arms, as if it was meant to be. Right now, all that matters is this. And it will always be for all you care.

You smile into his shoulder, smooch the base of his neck. "Is it too early to say 'I love you?'."

"I would actually say we're late, Love."

"I love you, then, you Dum-Dum."

"I love you."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You are like my asthma. You just take my breath away."

You make sure Cyno slams his head as you throw him off the bed.

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[thedoubteriswise]

I keep seeing complaints that people responding against anti-voting propaganda content are being "condescending" and "patronizing" and therefore are hurting their own cause. to a certain extent, I understand the point being made; it's true that people don't respond well to being insulted or feeling like they're being insulted. I've made this point many times before myself. but some of the takes I'm seeing have me at the end of my fucking rope, so I'm just going to reiterate three points that are less about this specific conversation and more about political debates in general:

refusing to consider the meat of someone's valid argument purely because you don't like the tone they're taking while making it is shitty behavior, and it's a great way to end up with factually wrong opinions. we've had a whole conversation about this in recent years; it was pretty hard to miss.

saying or implying that someone is a bad person (or annoying, or cringey, or whatever) instead of addressing the meat of their argument is an ad hominem attack. it's a logical fallacy. there are plenty of times where it doesn't matter and it's not that deep, we can make jokes, fine. but when forming your actual real opinions, it's critical that you agree or disagree with an idea, not with the people who are having it.

I've seen plenty of posts that took a hostile tone. I've also seen plenty that didn't, yet were still described as being patronizing. at this point, I'm not sure how people can phrase their arguments without being accused of condescension, because part of the problem with this topic (and many others, to be fair) is that people who need to hear corrections to their own thinking have gotten extremely attached to a specific way of conceptualizing how american politics work that isn't reflective of reality, or have linked their identity to engaging with politics in a specific way that has been sold to them as "radical." we've got a lot of people more interested in maintaining a sense of identity or catering to their own moral scrupulosity than in getting real world results that would actually line up with their stated values.

I do think that some people's frustration in combating this comes out at condescension. that's unfortunate, and I agree that it can be counterproductive. but I think there is also a strong element of people hearing that their political strategy is ineffective, dangerous, and poorly considered, and experiencing that as an attack to their identity, moral beliefs, or in-group. this is an extremely common phenomenon; a great recent example of it is conservatives who resisted mask and vaccine requirements - the things they were saying and doing were materially harmful to themselves and others, but telling them that was attacking something they had folded into their identity, so they pushed back even as they personally suffered the consequences of that decision.

my point is, if you have a negative response to hearing that your choice not to vote and to keep publicly discouraging voting is irresponsible and going to have undesirable results, it might be because the person saying so is being a dick about it, or that they generally suck as a person. I truly can't dispute this, the world is full of assholes. But a) does that make their argument factually wrong? what evidence do you have of this? does it hold up against the point they're making? And b) are they really being a dick, or are they simply challenging something that feels personal to you?

[looking-to-rattle-the-stars]

So I'm reading The Hobbit right--been going a bit slow because of travel and being suddenly called into work--and I just finished Chapter 9.

I cannot stop thinking about the friendship disparity between Bilbo and the dwarves. It's driving me up a wall in all honesty. Cause like, even if Bilbo didn't fully see them as friends in the beginning, he always refers to them as his friends or the dwarves. And he always seems, despite their complaining and his brief moments of "God I wish I wasn't here with them and their ruckus", to hold a high level of respect for them. But the dwarves don't return such a favor. They don't even start to like him until Chapter 8! It was always "Oh they forgot about him." and complaints about how he shouldn't be accompanying them.

Like, just to provide some quote examples (mainly for myself lol):

"Yes, lots,” said Bilbo, before he remembered not to give his friends away. “No none at all, not one,” he said immediately afterwards. (Pg. 35)

“What’s all this trouble? Who has been knocking my people about?” “It’s trolls!” said Bilbo from behind a tree. They had forgotten all about him. (Pg. 38)

“He wondered whether he ought not, now he had the magic ring, to go back into the horrible, horrible, tunnels and look for his friends. He had made up his mind that it was his duty, that he must turn back—and very miserable he felt about it—when he heard voices.” (Pg. 85)

The dwarves wanted to know why he had ever been brought at all, why he could not stick to his friends and come along with them, and why the wizard had not chosen someone with more sense. (Pg. 86)

“From which you can see that they had changed their opinion of Mr. Baggins very much, and had begun to have a great respect for him (as Gandalf said they would).” (Pg. 152)

“They all thought their own shares in the treasure would suffer seriously if the Wood-elves claimed part of it, and they all trusted Bilbo. Just as Gandalf had said would happen, you see.” (Pg. 162)

Like when they refer to themselves as Bilbo's friends it feels, at least to me, that they don't really see him as one. That they simply call him a friend because Gandalf is there and thinks highly of Bilbo. Or in like the way where they don't really see him as a friend they intend to keep, more of an acquaintance but saying "friend" is more polite/formal to do. Friend in the way where they are forced to be friends with each other but one thinks low of the other and therefore finds every opportunity to complain about it.

And then in Chapter 9 Thorin says to Bilbo, “A pretty fine burglar you make, it seems, when the time comes. I am sure we are all for ever at your service, whatever happens after this.” (Pg. 165) and I just crumple and fall over because I know how this story ends and what is to become of, at the very least, Thorin and his nephews. (I have been told that more of them die by LOTR, but I am unsure who!) And like perhaps you can argue that Balin had a bit more respect for him than the others, Bilbo does note how they get along a few times, but that is still 1/13. I am just head in hands.

And, since I already have a decent length post going, I cannot stop thinking about these quotes:

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something (or so Thorin said to the young dwarves). You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.” (Pg. 55)

“But all night he dreamed of his own house and wandered in his sleep into all his different rooms looking for something that he could not find nor remember what it looked like.” (Pg. 104)

LIKE JUST OH MY GOD. KNOWING ABOUT THE RING AND HOW THE STORY ENDS AND I JUST THE THORIN QUOTE AND APPLYING IT TO BILBO AND THE ADVENTURE!!! Like I don't know how to express the words right now but... the idea that Bilbo wasn't looking for an adventure but he found one and it offered him a sense of connection unlike anything in the Shire and embraced the "Tookness" inside of him which inherently reconnects him with his mother. And the second quote, I just- I don't know a lot about the ring. But my best friend has lightly explained some of the implications as they appear in LOTR, and I just... Bilbo searching for the ring in his dreams. Although I do also think that the quote would more relate to my previous sentiments with the first quote, but I just wonder if his dream was like that because of being in possession of the ring I suppose. Anyways it's 3am so time to go get some sleep!

[dulcelovestoomuch]

The Details of You // Mammon x Artist!reader

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Before coming to Devildom, you were in the worst art block you had ever been in. No lines seemed right. Shapes held no meaning. You couldn't breathe life or passion into anything you worked on. Torn paper decorated the floors, snapped pencils rested on your desk, and sketchbooks laid bare.

Then, things changed. You met the others and it seemed you could find beauty in everything. You could find inspiration simply by looking around.

However, nothing gave you more inspiration than the avatar of greed. He had somehow become a muse. The pages of every sketchbook had a drawing of him. Portraits of smiles and frowns, of anger and sadness, of excitement and embarrassment. Somehow you could perfectly remember these expressions, as if they were etched into your brain by Mammon himself.

Yet, it sometimes grew frustrating.

You could eventually perfect his features, but sometimes struggled with drawing him without reference. On your worst days, something was always off no matter how much you redrew him.

So, it was simple.

You decided to ask him.

"Mammon, I have a favor to ask," You worked up the courage to say, interrupting his "concentration" on studying.

"You're' asking me for a favor?" Mammon tilted his head, "Sure, but ya definitely owe me one!"

He gave your a playful smile; it could rival the sun in your opinion.

"Uh, sure," You replied, "I've been running out of inspiration lately. Do you think I could draw you?"

Mammon raised a brow, "Is that all, human? Go ahead! Who wouldn't want to draw the great Mammon?"

You suppressed the urge to fondly roll your eyes, grabbing a sketchbook and pencils from you desk. You nudged some books to side with your foot, before sitting front of him. You both sat on the floor; Mammon waiting as you flipped to a blank page in your sketchbook.

"Okay, so just stay still," You said, grabbing a 3H pencil. You began with drawing the face, getting the general shape of his face down on paper.

"Ya got it, human," Mammon spoke, "Won't move a muscle,"

A few moments rolled by, silent and calm. Your eyes would lock onto his face every so often. You didn't know, but it felt piercing to Mammon. You staring at him with such a strong, focused gaze was something he wasn't used to. He gulped, his face burning and body itching to move. So, the silence came to an end.

"So," Mammon said, "Why did ya want to draw me anyway?"

You shrugged, grabbing a darker pencil to work on detailing his facial features. "Just wanted to,"

He opened his mouth to say something more, but snapped it shut when your gaze focused on him again.

"Do you not want me to?"

Mammon flinched, cheeks reddening, "I didn't say that."

"Then, let me work!" You huffed, focusing back down on the paper.

Mammon frowned, looking away. You sighed, placing the sketchbook at you side before inching closer to Mammon. You gripped him by the chin, forcing him to look at you. You could see his skin turn red; his eyes shook as his mouth opened and shut like a fish.

"W-Whaddya think you're doing?" He said, looking everywhere but you.

"I told you to stay still," You said, "Keep looking at me,"

"O-okay, I got it," Mammon stammered, "Ya don't have to keep holding my face like this,"

"Mammon," You said gently, "What's wrong?"

"Wha... nothing's wrong." Mammon pulled away, "Nope, nothing at all,"

"Mammon..." You grabbed his face again. This time he managed to lock eyes with you, but his skin turned from a muted red to crimson.

"Ya just... never drew me before," Mammon explained, "I ain't used to it,"

You sighed.

He is as adorable as he is frustrating. You move back to your prior spot, grabbing your sketchbook and pencil once more.

"Fine, just stay still, okay? I'm almost done,"

Silence continued, only the sound of breath and of pencil on paper was audible in the room.

Having him as a reference made the details so easier to grasp. It make life come easier to the paper before you. You could finally draw every detail you forgot and improve upon every detail you remembered.

When you finished, you put the pencil down.

"Finally finished? It took forever!" Mammon grumbled, "Let me see it,"

You handed the sketchbook to him. He took it with a confident grin, only to freeze when he saw it.

"Does it look bad?" You asked.

Mammon's cheeks burned a cherry red, "I-I mean... it ain't too bad to look at. It's a drawing of me after all!"

He stared at it for a few more moments.

"Well, can I get it back then?"

"Nope!"

A loud tear filled the air.

Mammon tore the drawing out the sketchbook, before running out the room with a shout of "thanks!".

You stood up, running after him. The chase would be unsuccessful, as you yelled at him to come back, but couldn't keep up regardless.

However, when you would later go to his room, your drawing would be there framed. Mammon would blush, ranting about how because it was a drawing of him, he had to put it in his room.

It wasn't because that drawing showed how you viewed him. It also definitely wasn't because it was a drawing you did of him, with so much care and detail that it made his heart melt.

His stuttering and stammering continued on, before you simply gave him a kiss and pulled him back to your room.

Maybe you weren't so mad at him taking it.

Maybe now you had a willing muse.

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This was my first fic in the fandom, just wanted to do something quick and simple, hope you enjoyed! (⌒▽⌒)☆

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's tipsy ramblings about season 3:

I have thoughts...and I've had a bad Friday sooooo....here we go.

Do I want Pen to write as LW past S3? Yes and No. Fantasy Stacy wanted Colin and Pen to be Lord and Lady Whistledown spitting truth across the ton to all who needed to hear it. Reality Stacy wants her to have a true career and write a real novel as Penelope Bridgerton where she has her own success and Colin has his.

How are we feeling about the Ben storyline? zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Sorry.....was asleep. Wake me when we give him something to actually do.

Do we feel sorry for Cressida and want to see her arc redeemed by the end of Season 3? Nope. Every story needs a villain and I'm perfectly fine to see this one drown.

Do I enjoy John and Fran? No. Their story is not exciting for me. Sorry. Nothing against them, I'm just not enjoying it, personal opinion simply my own. I'm sure others might be in the same boat but unlikely to voice that opinion and that's fine as well. Again. Personal opinion and nothing against them. Just how I feel.

Should Colin forgive Pen so quickly in Part 2? Duh. It's a gossip column. I'm sorry that she wrote some honest things that cut close to the vest for people. She didn't lie. She tried to talk to these people over and over and over again and NO ONE listens to her. Colin patted her on the head like a puppy...."Pen you are so good" when she tried to warn him and she saved his ass from twins. Soooo, yeah. Let him feel his feels but honestly, lets move on.

Do you feel like Colin's character is OOC and the brothels are unnecessary? Nope, he came back as the person society expects him to be. Just as he said. He tried to fit with the Lord Douche Brigade and went about his business. The only time he was himself was with Pen. The whole point of that was to see the difference. Brothel mess and all and I was good with that. Clutch your pearls when you want to complain about his brothers having threesomes and fucking in public against trees.

Is Pen trapping Colin by not telling him right away about LW? Girl just got all her dreams converging into one. Confessions of love and fingering all in one. Then thrown into a family marriage proposal, immediately blackmailed by Eloise to confess, Cressida taking all her life's work credit from her, the Queen hunting her down. She's 20 years old. Image the pressure. Not only that but she gets the one thing she's been coveting since she watched him fall off a horse and now it could fall to dust. El already showed her what could happen by telling that secret and she was the love of her life. No one gave her a chance to breathe much less think of what these repercussions could mean. Either way, mistakes were made, but not unforgiveable, and nothing she would not have allowed him out of. When you allow someone the chance to remove themselves, it is not a trap. Point. Blank. Period.

Is the season rushed? I don't know, I've only watched four fucking episodes. Have you watched more than me? Please tell me where to watch the other 4, I'll pay!

Am I an asshole? Nah, just had a bit to drink, did you not read the top part...ok show time over! Before I really tell you how I feel!!

[jacky-rubou]

Planning to write an essay on the limited Ford and Mabel bonding in the show and well, I thought of approaching you if you have any pointers. Especially dispelling any misconceptions by the fandom whether Ford overlooked Mabel or the bond she shared with her brother.

I think the main misconception I see is that Ford didn't care about Mabel at all in comparison to Dipper. Or, in some ridiculously extreme cases, that he hates her.

People forget that Mabel was the first twin he interacted with, and it was largely positive. Ford laughed and said he liked her when she stated that his six fingered handshake was one finger friendlier than normal.

The Last Mabelcorn being the episode where Ford interacted with Mabel the most gives a big insight into how he feels about her. First, he agreed with Mabel when she stated she was probably the most pure of heart in the room (i forget the exact phrasing but same difference). He trusted her with the unicorn mission, even knowing that the unicorns were difficult. And last of all, he directly tells her that she is a good person without even knowing the struggle she went through with her morality moments prior.

Dipper and Mabel vs The Future is contentious in this regard, fans often using it as proof that Ford doesn't care about Mabel just because he asked Dipper to stay in Gravity Falls. But honestly, Ford cared enough to observe Mabel's social skills with the pizza delivery guy, plus probably witnessing plenty of instances of Mabel handling herself without Dipper's help. He genuinely believed that Mabel could handle being without her brother outside of the summers.

Plus, it isn't like Mabel was forthright about her feelings about leaving Gravity Falls and growing up until she blew up at the end of the episode. Obviously there are things to be said about Ford taking Dipper on as an apprenticeship being a good or a bad idea depending on who you ask, but Ford didn't know how badly Mabel would take it. He thought he was doing Dipper a favor by giving him a head start on his studies and, as I previously mentioned, that Mabel would be fine at home. That the two could reach a compromise if needed.

Ford isn't perfect though, he does tend to project himself onto Dipper after finding out how similar he thinks he is to him. That might've affected how often he spends with either twin or how he saw their bond, but to say that he doesn't care about Mabel at all is simply misguided. He cares about them both so much. His traumatic experience with his own twin just tainted how he saw the twins' bond being something that could be potentially suffocating. He does sorta have a point though, Dipper and Mabel can't force each other to stay glued at the hip forever or it could potentially stifle their individual dreams if handled badly. But that's just my 'controversial' opinion right there i guess, so take it with a grain of salt if you wish.

And besides, if we were gonna get upset at Ford for favoring Dipper over Mabel, you might as well also get upset at Stan for favoring Mabel over Dipper in some honestly worse ways than Ford ever did to Mabel. Stan literally projected his father's abusive ways onto Dipper and justified being hard on him with 'toughening him up'. Not to mention how he made Dipper the butt of his jokes so often it drove Dipper to seek out time with Ford over him because Ford never made fun of him like that. Obviously Stan does care about Dipper too, but the double standards in this fandom when it comes to how the grunkles treat the twins is honestly flabbergasting. Neither grunkle is perfect in how they handle the twins, neither are 'better' in their methods, and I think that's the point.

it doesn't help that Ford doesn't get a lot of screentime compared to Stan, as i'm sure you're already aware.

anyway, if you have any more questions, feel free to let me know. hope this was a good insight into all this Ford and Mabel business.

[y-rhywbeth2]

So, that last reblog about Ilmater and a few of your other cleric-related posts reminded me of a question/issue that has bugged me for a while and that I haven't found a good answer for. (Don't worry, it's not about BDSM, though I am very ??? about Ilmatari sexuality. But I digress.) As a more casual DnD player, I don't have many of the source books, so I mostly have to rely on what I can find on the internet, which is very … *gestures vaguely* let's say, hit or miss on reliable information. I also know there may not be a "canon" answer, even if just to leave room for DM/player shenanigans, but maybe you might know or have an opinion.

So, my understanding is that priests are people who enter the clergy (voluntarily or not) and learn the doctrines, how to perform rituals, etc., while clerics are basically people that a god points to and says "I want that one," and may not ever have or have had anything to do with the official clergy/religious hierarchy. But to me, it seems like the clergy would have some process to establish that a person who claims to be a cleric of their god is actually legit.

The extremist cult mentioned in that other post happened during the Time of Troubles, so that wasn't exactly normal circumstances, but it seems like that sort of thing would be a concern all the time. I know the gods aren't supposed to directly meddle in each other's affairs, but it seems like some of them would try anyway if they thought they could get away with it. (Looking at you, Shar.) And I'm sure there are plenty of other entities that would deceive, brainwash or mind-control a mortal into thinking they're a cleric so they can slander a god. A truth-serum doesn't seem like it would be enough, because the person may genuinely believe it.

To be honest, I haven't been able to find much at all about where clerics fit in with the clergy. I'm sure some gods would be fine empowering people who wanted to serve as long as they're doing the things the god's clergy or clerics do. Other gods, like Bane, no doubt demand that a cleric undergo training in doctrines, etc. and have a clearly established place in the hierarchy. But even beyond what the gods themselves feel about it, I imagine the clergy would want some verification process for anyone who would represent their faith.

Is this a thing, or are we just supposed to head-canon it however? I know it's a sort of nitpicky issue, but it seems like it would be important thing to know for anyone wanting to play a cleric -- for backstory reasons if nothing else!

(By the way, if you answer, I don't mind if you snip this ask into whatever pieces you want to respond to. I realize it's a little long.😔)

-

So, my understanding is that priests are people who enter the clergy (voluntarily or not) and learn the doctrines, how to perform rituals, etc., while clerics are basically people that a god points to and says "I want that one," and may not ever have or have had anything to do with the official clergy/religious hierarchy.

Everybody working at the temple doing the daily chores and dedicating themselves to a life of worship is a priest, but the priests in charge and the ones leading the rituals and speaking for the deity are the clerics (or druids). A cleric/druid does have to be part of the faith, and if a god wants this mortal as a cleric they’ll typically direct them towards the nearest actual cleric/druid and place of worship for that guidance and training. (Favoured/Divine Souls, as the spontaneous casters, are the annoying bastards who fuck up the hierarchy, but they’re rare. Don't need to follow the rules or pray for your god's power when you simply have it by existing.)

As far as I'm aware a god can't force a person to be a cleric/druid/paladin/ranger; divine magic requires some degree of faith and willingness to serve, even if for selfish reasons on the mortal end. They can bestow their power on a mortal, but the classes require a certain dedication. You can psychologically condition people into willingness though.

But to me, it seems like the clergy would have some process to establish that a person who claims to be a cleric of their god is actually legit.

For a random, already initiated priest you've never met before: Aside from a series of rites and secret handshakes or whatever - plus the assumption that few are going to be suicidal enough risk pissing off the gods - they do, it’s called asking the god.

The extremist cult mentioned in that other post happened during the Time of Troubles, so that wasn't exactly normal circumstances, but it seems like that sort of thing would be a concern all the time.

It kind of is is. Not even just enemy gods disguising themselves, but different religious leaders having different interpretations of the same deity.

I know the gods aren't supposed to directly meddle in each other's affairs, but it seems like some of them would try anyway if they thought they could get away with it. (Looking at you, Shar.) And I'm sure there are plenty of other entities that would deceive, brainwash or mind-control a mortal into thinking they're a cleric so they can slander a god. A truth-serum doesn't seem like it would be enough, because the person may genuinely believe it.

There’s a couple of factors, one being that pesky free will that mortals have to have, plus faith remains true to its definition (because even when gods are demonstrably real ‘I don’t need empirical evidence for what I believe in to believe in it’ still stands).

Even within a single faith there are heresies and splinter sects: worshipping their god in different ways, interpreting doctrine differently, and getting mad at each other over it.

The god then has a choice to make: cut off one of the sects, losing followers and power and leaving that sect to potentially be picked up by an enemy god who will empower them (possibly masquerading as them) but not causing disunity in the church or potentially altering their own nature; or empower both, maintaining their power (maybe creating a larger pool of potential worshippers with new avenues to the faith), but decentralising their power on Faerûn as the faith fragments, and potentially changing themselves as mortal faith ‘evolves’ them.

Sometimes gods treat heresies – even if they’re born of a masquerading enemy - as tests of faith for the misled mortal, or think they can get something out of it.

To be honest, I haven't been able to find much at all about where clerics fit in with the clergy.

They’re the authority, as handed to them from on high. The hands and eyes of the god upon the mortal realm in a way that a lesser priest is not. A cleric/druid is intimately and inextricably tied to their god; They have the god’s ear and speak and act for them, and the rest of the faith follow. A priest who isn’t a divine caster serves the temple and god out of faith, but doesn’t wield divine authority. It’s not quite the same thing, but imagine that the non-divine casters are volunteers helping the people running the place, and the divine casters have taken oaths and have to live according to a set of ecclesial laws the rest of the world doesn’t have to. I mean most clergy took rites and responsibilities, but nowhere near the level a divine caster did. Picture the difference between a fighter and the old fashioned LG paladin. Perhaps both may serve Tyr faithfully, but the paladin has a code, powers and mythos that the fighter doesn’t.

You don’t really get into the higher ranks of the clergy without divine casting.

But even beyond what the gods themselves feel about it, I imagine the clergy would want some verification process for anyone who would represent their faith.

They often – maybe always – do have that, assuming the god hasn’t singled you out for service in which case the clergy are getting sent divine omens that say ‘this is my new cleric/druid’ and then they shut up and do as they’re told or face divine punishment (clerics and druids are not to refuse their god’s commands).

If you’re just a standard acolyte looking to take vows and serve the faith, the Ilmatari have an example:

The senior priest takes you for a quiet walk where you discuss your views on life and your desire to join the faith, ending in a meal where you voluntarily allow yourself to be drugged into a trance where the priests will examine your mind for any ulterior motive or anything hidden that makes you unsuited to their life. If all goes well: welcome to the faith, if not tough luck.

There are also vetting processes for climbing the ranks, which both mortal tradition and the god is involved in: 'Clerics in the service of a god will advance only if they please the god, by remaining faithful to the god's rules and aims, and acting as the god wishes.'

Non-clerics usually fill the bottom ranks, maybe never prograssing past acolyte or having their own vows idk (non-divine caster priests are generally overlooked and recommended as npcs only). Ascending ranks usually means divine caster, and involves a greater level of study, rites to pass, and getting further and further involved with your god (meaning more loyalty required and harsher sentences for betrayal and failure). Spell levels 1-2 come from training, like wizards. 3-5 are being granted by divine servants and messengers of the deity (solars, elementals, fiends, etc). 6+ are coming straight from the god.

Priesthoods tend to be extremely secretive about their inner workings, a good example found in how they treat their holy books*: those are often warded to high hell to make sure the wrong people (alignment, religion, intentions...) can’t get near them, and will insist on putting outsiders that want to see them through an obstacle course of tests and tasks and then still want to stand to the side and watch the visitor like a hawk while they read, ready to act if they do anything sketchy or blasphemous.

*Not like standard parables or the occasional history, like the really important sacred stuff straight from the deity, full of divine spells handed to their most holy. Holy relics and etc.