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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 days

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Ticketmaster jacks us for billions so it can pocket millions

NEXT WEEKEND (June 7–9), I'm in AMHERST, NEW YORK to keynote the 25th Annual Media Ecology Association Convention and accept the Neil Postman Award for Career Achievement in Public Intellectual Activity.

Corruption is a system of concentrated gains and diffused costs: cheaters make a lot of money, and their victims each lose a little. The cheater has a much larger pool of money to spend on keeping the scam going, and the victims need to pay again to fight the cheater.

Actually, it's worse. The victim pays once when they are cheated, then, they pay a second time (in time and/or money) when they fight back against the cheater.

But in order to fight back effectively, the victims need to band together – it doesn't make sense for one victim to pony up to counter the cheater, because the cheater stole from a lot of people and can therefore spend far more than the victim lost and still come out ahead.

This is the third time the victim pays: they pay the "collective action" tax of locating other victims, agreeing to a common strategy for fighting back, and then coordinating with all those co-victims to keep the campaign up.

But actually, it's even worse. Because most corruption isn't just dishonest, it's incredibly wasteful. Corruption involves stealing ten dollars from you to make a dime for the cheater. The polluter who gives you cancer rather than cleaning up their industrial process costs you millions in medical bills – and maybe costs your family the lifelong trauma and expense of living with your death. They pocket an infinitesimal fraction of those costs. The rest is just wasted. They're setting your house on fire to spare themselves the cost of a match to light their cigar.

This is yet another way in which the deck is stacked in favor of corruption. A victim of corruption is placed in a condition of precarity and misery from which is it difficult to marshal a counteroffensive. The cheater, meanwhile, is made stronger and more comfortable by their corrupt activities. Immiserated victims must undertake the hard, ongoing work of acting together to be effective against the cheater. The cheater answers only to themself, avoiding the collective action costs that the victims pay every time they seek to act.

All of this is why we have governments. A government is (said to be) a democratically accountable way to meet the concentrated power of the corrupt with the concentrated power of the victims of corruption. Governments are many things, but they are especially a way of solving the collective action problem of enforcing the rules against cheaters. This is partially in service to justice – no one likes to be cheated, and a society of rampant and routine cheating is unstable and prone to collapse.

But it's also a matter of efficiency. While it makes a certain kind of selfish sense for the cheater to liquidate our dollar to make their penny, from a societal perspective, it's a catastrophe. Letting Wall Street slumlords corner regional markets in single family dwellings makes large amounts of money for their investors, but it costs those cities unimaginable amounts in public services as their housing stock decays, homelessness spikes, and schools and public services crumble for want of local taxes.

The paltry sums that Flint's creditors extracted by insisting on switching to a chlorinated water-supply that leeched lead out of the city's water infrastructure are crumbs compared to the vast, lifelong costs of giving an all the children in a city lead poisoning, to say nothing of the costs to the city as a city nor forever tainted by this unspeakably evil crime.

This is why inequality – and its handmaiden, monopoly – is so dangerous. The more concentrated private wealth becomes, the harder it is for the state to police, and the more likely it is that this private wealth will corrupt our officials. We see this all around us – for example, when Supreme Court justices receive lavish gifts from billionaires whom they later rule in favor of:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

Through the neoliberal era – the past forty years of billionaire-friendly Reaganomics – we've seen increasing concentration in wealth, coupled to increasing collusion between the wealthy and the government to protect the corrupt against the public. Think of the IRS's long decay, in which it turned a blind eye to increasingly blatant tax evasion by the ultra-wealthy, while training its fire on working people who fudge a few bucks on their returns:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/13/taxes-are-for-the-little-people/#leona-helmsley-2022

Likewise, think of the governmental obsession with "welfare cheats," no matter what the cost to families who are kicked off food stamps and Medicaid:

https://armandalegshow.com/episode/medicaid-enrollment/

All this in the midst of a corporate crime-wave that is not only unpunished, it's utterly unremarked-upon:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

This emphasis on benefits cheating and indifference to corporate crime really highlights the drag that corruption places on a society's efficiency. Even if you believe that there's a lot of welfare fraud (there isn't!), the dollar in "undeserved" food stamps spent by a cheater costs society…a dollar. Meanwhile the dollar that a corporate criminal makes by skimping on workplace safety costs society thousands of dollars to care for the worker who is then maimed on the job.

This is very easy to see in the world of corporate environmental crime. The "social cost of carbon" measures the total cost of pollution: the injuries caused by marinating in fossil fuel extraction, processing and combustion byproducts; as well as the loss of life and property from climate events. These costs are blistering, so high that every MWh of renewable power we bring online saves us $100 in social carbon costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/30/posiwid/#social-cost-of-carbon

Governments that sleep on corporate crime are objectively governing badly. That's why the antitrust failures of every US presidential administration from Carter to Trump are so damning: they set the stage for later corruption that would not only be carried out on a larger scale than smaller firms could accomplish, but also for those large firms to corrupt the political process.

This is the Ticketmaster story. The superpredator that is today's Ticketmaster is the end-point of a series of ever-more corrupt mergers, waved through by every-more pliable presidential administrations. It was bad enough when Bush I allowed Ticketmaster to gobble up Ticketron in 1990. After all, the company had already proven itself to be a cesspit of corrupt, bullying activity.

The Ticketron acquisition kicked off a two-decade-long corporate crime-spree that produced a mountain of evidence proving Ticketmaster's nature as an inherently corrupt enterprise that acquired power for the purpose of abusing that power, at the expense of creative workers, the public, and the owners of venues:

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/pearl-jam-taking-on-ticketmaster-67440/

Despite this, the Obama administration waved through an acquisition that was obviously far more dangerous that the Ticketron caper: the 2010 merger between Ticketmaster and the concert promoter Live Nation:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Live_Nation_Entertainment#History

After a decade and a half of vertical monopoly power – Ticketmaster/Live Nation controlling ticketing, promotion and venues – the company has grown from a dangerous octopus with its tentacles twined around the industry into a kraken that is strangling every kind of live event and everyone who earns a living from them. This has produced an ever-more obvious string of scandals, most notably the company's assault on Swifties:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

A combination of mounting public outrage (with Swifties at the vanguard) and the Biden administration's generational enthusiasm for smashing corporate power has led, at last, to a reckoning with the Ticketmaster kraken:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/30/nix-fix-the-tix/#something-must-be-done-there-we-did-something

Ticketmaster is a famously opaque organization. When Rebecca Giblin and I were working on Chokepoint Capitalism, our book on monopoly and creative labor markets, we were able to speak on the record to insiders from every part of the industry, except live performance:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

As soon as we raised Ticketmaster/Live Nation with club owners and other events industry insiders, they'd go pale and quiet and tell us that they didn't feel comfortable staying on the record. TM/LN has a well-deserved mafia-style reputation for savage retaliation against snitches.

With the DOJ Antitrust Division chasing Ticketmaster through the courts, we're starting to get a rare, on-the-record glimpse of TM/LN's operations, as its internal documents find their pay into court records. In response Ticketmaster's spokesliars have embarked on an epic spin campaign, to "contextualize" these damning numbers and paint the company as a weak, low-margin business that has been unfairly set-upon by the bullies at the DOJ.

In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller offers a spectacular, must-read breakdown of these documents and the ensuing spin:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/is-ticketmaster-telling-the-truth

Stoller starts with Ticketmaster's insistence that it is barely profitable. Though this is true on paper, the numbers just don't add up. For one thing, anyone who's bought a ticket can see, printed on its face, TM's junk fees: "a 'service fee' without any obvious service [and] a 'convenience fee' that is anything but convenient."

Far more damning is a comparison between the price of a Ticketmaster ticket in the US vs the EU. The EU has legally mandated competitive ticketing, and the tickets there are far cheaper. A US ticket to see Taylor Swift will run you $2,600 – the same ticket costs $340 in the EU. As Stoller writes:

An American could fly to Paris, spend a few nights at a nice hotel, see a Taylor Swift concert, and fly back, for less than it costs to see that same show in the U.S.

How to make sense of this contradiction? How can Ticketmaster show such a low profit margin on its books but somehow end up costing event-goers such an absurd premium?

Start with the fact that Ticketmaster has three businesses, not just one. They sell tickets, but they also promote concerts (that is, front the money for personnel, travel and marketing), and they also own a bunch of the largest and most profitable venues in the country.

This allows them to play a shell-game that's very similar to (and possibly not actually different from) money-laundering, where money is shuffled between entities in order to shield it from creditors, suppliers or tax agents:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/explosive-new-documents-unearthed

But this presents a problem for Ticketmaster. They're a publicly traded company and their investors demand high returns. And unlike performers or venue owners, investors have power over Ticketmaster management. Keeping "margin per ticket" number as low as possible lets Ticketmaster minimize the revenue it has to share with the people who actually do the work and invest the capital in live performances. But for investors, they need to show another number, one that's as high as possible, to keep the investors happy.

That number is "Adjusted Operating Income" or AOI. While gross margins are the difference between the face value of a ticket and the sum remitted to the venue and the performer, AOI factors in all the other revenue TM/LN books from that ticket, like kickbacks. TM/LN's AOI is very healthy: it's 37% on tickets and 61% on promotions.

Those sums delight TM/LN's investors, and they express their joy through lavish executive compensation packages. CEO Michael Rapino is America's fifth-highest paid CEO, at $139m/year (that's eight times the Fortune 500 average). His sidekick Joe Berchtold is America's highest paid CFO, at $54m. The total AOI for TM/LN is $732m/year – and 19% of that is being paid to two of its execs.

But LN/TM has a third line of business: operating venues. The AOI for these venues is just 1.7%. If this were a normal, cutthroat business, you'd expect those same return-focused investors to insist on their handsomely compensated execs selling off that low-margin turkey. But nevertheless, TM/LN keeps those venues on its books.

When those execs talk to the public, they use the poor profit margins of ticketing and the poor AOI on venues to plead poverty: "how can we be a monopoly when we're barely scraping by?"

But when they talk to the investors who decide whether to pay them 800% of the S&P500 average, they are more forthcoming.

Keeping the margins low on tickets – and making up the money with kickbacks and other corrupt payments – means that potential rival ticketing firms can't afford to get into the business. Without the venue and promotion business, those rivals wouldn't be able to command kickbacks. They'd have to subsist on the rock-bottom margins that are competitive with Ticketmaster.

Likewise those venues: ownership of key venues lets Ticketmaster/Live Nation force out credible rivals in important markets, and keep new ones from emerging, because again, they'd have to make a living on that paltry 1.7% AOI (or the even lower profit margins!).

As Joe Berchtold, the highest-paid CFO in America, told an analyst:

I don't think Concerts AOI per fan is a logical way to look at it. I think if you look at how we've talked about our business, we've talked about our business across the multiple pieces. So you have to look at it, what's the concerts plus sponsorship plus ticketing AOI per fan.

Berchtold is paid roughly $26,000/hour. Those words take roughly 25 seconds to utter, so that's a $7.20 explanation, but it contains a wealth of information – it's basically the DoJ's case in a nutshell.

But Stoller points out a curious fact that isn't captured here. Remember when I told you that TM/LN's NOI is $732m/year? What I didn't mention is the company's gross revenue: $16.7 billion.

When TM/LN talks about how shitty their business is, and therefore they can't be a monopoly, this is the trump card. How could a company creaming off a mere $732 million off $16.7 billion in gross revenue be a monopolist with "pricing power"?

This is where understanding corruption helps clarify our understanding and cut through the bullshit. Corruption is vastly wasteful. In order to extract $732m from $16.7b, TM/LN has to engage in a lot of wasteful and corrupt activities. They have to bribe other key players in the system, spend vast fortunes on lobbying, and generally do a lot of unproductive things with their money.

This is concentrated gains and diffuse losses. In order to command the highest salary of any American CFO, Berchtold has to cook up and maintain this process. In order to earn his $139m/year, Rapino has to play mafia don and keep everyone is his supply chain sufficiently terrorized or sufficiently greased to maintain omerta.

These two men take home a fifth of Ticketmaster's net income because they possess a rare and valuable skill. They are able to obfuscate a corrupt arrangement, enrobing it in layers of performative complexity, until the average musician, concertgoer, or lawmaker, can't understand it. Any attempt to unravel it will induce a deadly, soporific confusion. The investment industry term for his is MEGO (My Eyes Glaze Over), the weaponization of complexity. A skilled MEGO artist can convince you that the pile of shit they're peddling is so large that there must be a pony under it somewhere.

Here's Stoller, de-MEGOfying the TM/LN story:

Live Nation has a giant capital intensive unprofitable division of putting on concerts, from which it skims for its real cash flow. But this leverage among different subsidiaries means that it has an incentive to push up the cost of concerts overall, not just for its own profit. This incentive operates in two different ways. One, since ticket fees are based on the price of a ticket, Live Nation seeks higher prices for tickets so it can move more cash to its Ticketmaster subsidiary. And two, since Live Nation itself gets rebates by overpaying for venues, it has the incentive to push up the cost of shows. No one can undercut Live Nation, as it’s a monopoly.

You might think that this is a lot of mental energy to expend on understanding live performances. If you're not trying to see Taylor Swift, does any of this matter?

It assuredly does. Understanding how Ticketmaster's shell-game works is critical to understanding the similar shell-games played by many other kinds of monopolists, who have wrapped their tentacles around all the other parts of our lives. As David Dayen and Lindsay Owens write for The American Prospect, the companies that avoided monopoly prosecution by ripping off suppliers have bled those suppliers dry, and now they're coming for their customers:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-03-age-of-recoupment/

From groceries to plane tickets, rent to cab rides, Amazon to Ticketmaster, we are living through the "Age of Recoupment," when the long con of lowering prices to secure monopolies flips enters it final stage: greedflating the shit out of customers, and using the monopolist's power over regulators to avoid consequences.

Today, everywhere consumers turn, whether they are shopping for groceries at the local Kroger or for plane tickets online, they are being gouged. Landlords are quietly utilizing new software to band together and raise rents. Uber has been accused of raising the price of rides when a customer’s phone battery is drained. Ticketmaster layers on additional fees as you move through the process of securing seats to your favorite artist’s upcoming show. Amazon’s secret pricing algorithm, code-named “Project Nessie,” was designed to identify products where it could raise prices, on the expectation that competitors would follow suit. Companies are forcing you into monthly subscriptions for a tube of toothpaste. Banks have crept up the price of credit, so customers who cannot afford price-gouging in their everyday transactions get a second round of price-gouging when they put purchases on credit. Expedia is using demographic and purchase history data to set hotel pricing for an audience of one: you.

When these companies end up in front of angry attorneys general, DOJ lawyers, or an FTC investigation, they'll use the Ticketmaster/Live Nation playbook to try and wriggle off the hook. They'll point to some barely-profitable (or money-losing) part of their business and say, "How could a monopolist possibly be running a business this shitty?"

If the DOJ makes its case against Ticketmaster, it will set a precedent, both in court and in policy circles, for understanding how a monopolist's corruption works. Monopolists aren't always businesses with gigantic margins. Like other criminals, their corruption can produce spectacular wealth and spectacular waste at the same time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/03/aoi-aoi-oh/#concentrated-gains-vast-diffused-losses

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bbcphile · 2 days

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The Yin Leaves Threat Is a Bluff (MLC Meta)

Mysterious Lotus Casebook fans: Are we ready to talk about how the yin leaves threat was a bluff?

So many people seem to be taking Di Feisheng at his word that he wanted to make Li Xiangyi eat the yin leaves of the Wangchuan flower to regain his martial arts for one last glorious fight and that he was fine with Li Xiangyi dying very painfully from their poison after. And I see why: after all, LLH took him at his word, too, and LLH is famously smart and a good detective.

However, LLH has a history of jumping to false conclusions about DFS and, like the rest of the jianghu, assuming the worst of him: in fact, his mistaken belief that DFS broke the peace treaty and had his shixiong killed is the central misunderstanding that nearly destroyed both their respective sects and each other. So, since LLH is canonically very bad at telling who actually wants him dead and who loves him, it’s worth investigating this further. And looking at DFS’ history of bluffing is a good place to start.

DFS and Bluffing

Di Feisheng has a history of bluffing and/or threatening to kill or torture people when he doesn’t mean it. Here are some of his most notable examples (but click here for a much longer list of things he’s lied about or withheld info about):

Threatening to kill Qiao Wanmian to convince LLH to let him find a cure for Bicha (he doesn’t kill women)

Threatening to torture Gao Qian for information (he searches rooms instead)

Threatening to kill FDB when LLH says he’s trouble (the smirk after shows he was joking)

Threatening to kill Xiao Zijin at the wedding if LLH doesn’t help him get into 188 prisons (LLH walks him into a trap and yet DFS doesn’t even try to hurt XZJ in the fight)

Lying about poisoning and curing QWM to protect LLH’s identity and pretending to kidnap her

In all of those examples, DFS is trying to help or protect LLH, albeit in a very dysfunctional way. In the first example, he’s trying to blackmail LLH into living; the second example is to solve the case to find Shi Hun to expel the Asura Grass so he can find a cure for Bicha; the third is a joke, but also one designed to make LLH admit he does care about FDB because LLH is pretending he doesn’t care about anything as a prelude to giving up once he finds SGD’s body; the fourth is to get evidence that someone framed the Jinyuanmeng so LLH will trust him again and want to live to figure out who really killed his shixiong; and the last is to protect LLH’s identity (even though he only agreed to protect it until the Asura Grass was expelled. He’s trying to prove to LLH that LLH can trust him and he wants to help him, not harm him.)

All that to say: DFS has a history of bluffing about threatening to kill people if he thinks it will help Xiangyi live, and will take on the role of the villain—role the jianghu regularly casts him in—if he thinks it will help. And as some of those examples show, he also doesn’t share his plans with LLH until after the plan has been completed. And just look at all the things DFS withheld from LXY at their first donghai battle if you need more examples: he doesn’t mention that he knows it’s a frame job or why he stole SGD’s body. In all these examples, it’s not just that DFS has control issues and doesn’t want to share theories until he has proof: it seems likely that he knows/assumes LXY wouldn’t have believed him, because LLH already proved he didn’t trust him when he fell for the frame job, broke the peace treaty, and attacked the Jinyuanmeng. DFS assumes that there’s no point in presenting information to someone who won’t listen to it; he’d think it’s a waste of time and energy that could be better spent actively solving the problem.

But Why Bluff About the Yin Leaves?

Yao Mo’s Questionable Loyalty:

When DFS says he just needs LLH to live long enough to compete with him, he’s not talking to LLH himself: he’s talking to Yao Mo. In fact, the entire yin leaves plan was Yao Mo’s idea. And that changes everything.

Why? Well, for starters, Yao Mo is the one who invented the Bicha poison and gave it to JLQ to use on LXY (without DFS’ knowledge or permission). That alone is reason enough for DFS to not know if he can trust him, and this lack of trust explains why DFS never told Yao Mo that the mystery patient was LXY/LLH or that he was poisoned by Bicha. Since JLQ poisoned LXY because DFS paid so much attention to him and to fighting with him, it makes sense that DFS would try to protect LLH by hiding his identity and not drawing attention to him.

But of course, as soon as Yao Mo figures out the mystery patient was poisoned with Bicha, that secret is blown. The pained face (and Throat Bob of Emotion) DFS makes while Yao Mo is having this realization shows not only how upset he is that they don’t yet have a cure, but also how worried he is that Yao Mo now knows it’s LLH, which makes everything more complicated.

DFS was right that Yao Mo would figure it out, since the first thing Yao Mo does after this realization is tell DFS he’s thought of a way “to heal him so he can compete with you.” DFS had pointedly NOT mentioned competing with him in front of Yao Mo yet (to hide LLH’s identity), so this is definitive proof that his cover is blown and that DFS needs to find a new way to keep LLH safe.

This new plan is to downplay how much LLH means to him, and that motive explains so much about this scene. We know from watching him grieve and tear up while mourning LLH at his personal waterfall after his enthronement ceremony that DFS is miserable because of LXY’s supposed death and that he doesn’t see the point in fighting anymore without him, so we know that one last fight with LXY wouldn’t fix that: he’d still be dead and DFS would still be devastated.

(Here are some screenshots of him mourning at the waterfall.)

But this isn’t common knowledge. In fact, it seems to be a closely guarded secret; he’s mourning in private, with only Wuyan as a witness. In public and to the rest of his subordinates, he’s trying to project the attitude of the unemotional, unflappable, heartless demon of the jianghu because his reputation is part of his armor that keeps him safe. It lets him seem like he doesn’t have any weaknesses (since “a swordsman shouldn’t have weaknesses”), and it keeps people from knowing that his primary weakness (other than the mind control bug) is LXY/LLH.

(NOTE: He’s not even comfortable with anyone other than Wuyan and the three kings knowing he cares more about reaching the pinnacle of martial arts than he does about the Jinyuanmeng itself, and it’s not clear if any of them know that he mainly wants to increase his strength and power to free himself from the mind control bug. That’s how closely he guards his vulnerabilities.)

With that in mind, if he wants to keep Yao Mo (and therefore JLQ) from knowing how important LXY is to him, there’s only one possible answer to Yao Mo’s question about whether he’d mind if LLH dies from the yin leaves after the fight: pretending he wouldn’t object. If he said he’d give up a fight rather than let LLH die from the yin leaves, then Yao Mo would know LLH matters to him more than fighting, which would be revealing a weakness. If DFS said he would give the entire Wangchuan flower to LLH to cure him and would therefore be sacrificing his chance of getting stronger, it would be painting an even larger target on LLH’s back and showing Yao Mo that endangering LLH would be the key to controlling him. The only safe option for both LLH and DFS is for DFS to claim he doesn’t care if LLH dies after they fight and to give orders to find the flower.

Here’s a gif of his command about the Wangchuan flower:

Notice his furrowed brow, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, the way he’s almost wincing as he gives the order? He is miserable about having to play this game and his incredible poker face is barely up to the task.

Here’s a still image of right after the pronouncement; you can still see the barely suppressed wince.

After this command, he dismisses Yao Mo from the cave immediately so he doesn’t have to keep pretending he’s going to sacrifice LLH. The entire time Yao Mo is present, even while he’s walking away, DFS holds himself completely motionless, staying in character from the bluff and desperately waiting to be alone with LLH. The instant Yao Mo is gone, DFS slumps in relief, or at least, does his version of a slump: he bows/droops his head as though the weight of what just happened was too much to shoulder.

Here’s a close-up of his reaction:

DFS’s relief at being alone with LLH shows that he believed LLH knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing.

He was wrong.

LLH: Believing the Worst of DFS (again)

LLH’s belief that DFS wants to kill him for a duel makes sense, since at this point, he still thinks DFS did in fact have SGD killed and broke the peace treaty, and he’s pissed off, feeling betrayed, and also in pain (from the medicine and the Beifeng Baiyang transfer that made him cough up blood, and from all the snake bites–he’s primed to read those as exclusively aggressive and cruel attempts to heal him at all costs for the fight, and not to realize that DFS would absolutely do all these things to himself to heal his own martial arts without batting an eye. And he’s in too much pain to see the horrified look on DFS’s face when LLH coughs up blood and DFS realized he almost killed LLH while trying to cure him.)

But that doesn’t mean LLH is right.

DFS, upon seeing that LLH has again cast him as the heartless villain, doesn’t try to dispute it. In the same way that he didn’t explain about why he took SGD’s body at the donghai battle, he doesn’t explain himself about the flower, possibly because he thinks he doesn’t have time to waste arguing. His goal is to get LLH to live–he grieved him for a decade, after all, and doesn’t want to have to do it again–and he is painfully aware that he is running out of time. LLH hasn’t exactly been subtle about only staying alive to find and bury SGD’s body, and now that they’ve accomplished that, he wants to make sure LLH doesn’t give up. Growing up in Di Fortress, DFS probably learned how to recognize what it looks like when people give up on life, and seeing those signs in LLH would explain some of the desperation behind his actions.

So, what does he do instead of trying to convince LLH the threat was a bluff? Here’s a gif of his response:

He swallows his disappointment at being thought a heartless killer–bowing his head again and shaking it, then looking up at the cave roof in exasperation–and takes a long, long inhale to collect himself and to quickly brainstorm a new plan. Once he’s figured it out, he says LXY’s name and launches into stage 2 of his plan to convince LLH to live: correcting the initial misunderstanding that first led LLH to not trust him anymore.

DFS tries to convince LLH that someone conspired against both of them a decade ago–the truth he thought LXY wouldn’t believe him about on the ship–because if that worked, then it would solve two problems: 1. LLH might believe him that he doesn’t want to kill him for the rematch if he knew he hadn’t had SGD killed, and 2. LLH would choose to stay alive to find SGD’s real killer and get revenge.

And when LLH doesn’t believe his initial attempt, he gives what is possibly his longest speech in the entire show detailing the evidence supporting his claim that they were both set up and offers to help him find the truth in exchange for their rematch. While he definitely does want a rematch, DFS mentions it here in part because LLH thinks it’s all he cares about; if he were to offer to help without requiring the fight, LLH would be less likely to believe him and even more suspicious of his claims, especially since LLH currently thinks DFS would kill him for said rematch.

But unfortunately, his plan for them to team up fails as he thought it would all those years ago, so he decides to play along with being the heartless villain LLH thinks he is, and it’s only then that he threatens to kill FDB (revealing FDB’s parentage in the process), because he knows that LLH would stay alive to protect FDB.

I have another 2000+ words worth of thoughts about his talk and fight with FDB–the way he tries to “kidnap” him first instead of fighting him, the way he looks miserable during the fight instead of enjoying it the way he did during the fight at QWM and XZJ’s wedding–but it will have to wait for another meta because this is already way too long as it is. The point, though, is that he’s not fighting FDB because he wants to or is enjoying hurting him: he actually hates every second of it and of performing the role of jianghu villain LLH has once again cast him in. But he’s doing it because he thinks it’s the only way to keep LLH alive.

These aren’t the actions of someone who just wants to sacrifice his old rival for a fight; they’re the actions of someone trying everything he can think of to keep the person he loves alive. It’s an incredibly convoluted way to show his care, but given that he’s desperate, out of time, and can’t get LLH to trust or believe him, it makes sense that he’d fall back on a reliable skillset that’s kept himself alive despite all the odds: bluffing, keeping his true goals a secret, adopting the mantle of villain, and letting himself be hated for things he hasn’t done.

With both the fight with FDB and with the yin leaves threat, DFS plays the villain to try to force LLH to live, because he’d rather LLH hate him and live than love him and die.

Because Di Feisheng has never wanted Li Xiangyi–or Li Lianhua–dead.

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imsobadatnicknames2 · 3 days

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I legitimately think the thing where New Vegas allows you to completely rebuild your character the first time you leave Goodsprings should be a standard for RPGs and it's weird to me that (as far as I know) it took that long for someone to think of it and no one has done something similar since.

Like. The thing is, when you're starting a new RPG, especially if you're a newcomer to the series (or the game isn't part of one), you don't really know enough about the game mechanics to make informed decisions about your character build. Especially with stuff like Fallout's traits system, if a trait says something like "Attack speed for thrown weapons increased by 30%, but range reduced by 25%" or "Guns and energy weapons are 20% faster but 20% less accurate" you don't really have enough of an idea of the baseline functioning of those mechanics to know how good of a deal those traits are or how enjoyable they'll be for you.

So letting you play through a small starter area and a short first quest that lets you test out your character skills and get familiar with the game's mechanics before letting you completely rebuild your character is actually a genius idea that solves a longstanding problem of the genre and I'd like to see it used more often.

#fnv #fallout

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morimementa · 1 day

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A self indulgent whump post:

Ok, so there's some sort of illness sweeping the base. It's not overly dangerous but it will knock a grown man out for at least a week.

This becomes a problem because it leaves the 141 scrambling to keep everything together while people are dropping left and right.

And then one day Ghost comes to breakfast and realizes Soap isn't in the mess hall.

He finds him passed out in the hallway halfway to Ghost's quarters, wrapped in a sheet.

If it wasn't so nerve wracking, it'd be cute how Soap instinctively went to where he assumed Ghost would be when he started feeling bad.

Ghost informs Price and Price says that might be a problem, considering Medical is overflowing and Ghost is like, "Who said anything about Medical? I'm going to look after him."

Price is up to his ears in trouble at this point so he's like. "Sure. Why not. You've already got a bloody mask on."

Ghost ends up carrying Soap back to his room.

Soap is awake by this point but not really lucid so he is Very Confused.

He still lets Ghost sit him in his lap and give him water though.

As Ghost is tucking him into bed and preparing a compress and some aspirin Soap apologizes for getting sick.

Ghost jokes that he can buy him a round to lighten the tension, whereupon Soap pukes in the nearest trashcan.

They decide not to talk about food after that.

The fever gives Soap the strangest nightmares ever so Ghost makes sure to wake him up when the whimpering starts. Halfway through he realizes Soap sleeps better if he's being held.

(He is not at all glad that he can cuddle Soap, why do you ask?)

I'm pretty sure there aren't any baths on a military base, just showers, so imagine how awkward that is. Ghost tries the lukewarm shower trick to alleviate Soap's fever and a recruit walks in while he's holding Soap in his arms and standing under the spray, mask still on.

(The recruit leaves. He saw nothing, he doesn't know what you're talking about. )

Keeping Soap hydrated is a challenge because vomiting. Many Saltines later, he's able to keep more water down and Ghost finds himself thanking a God he doesn't believe in. He knew what he signed up for, but seeing Soap that miserable was agonizing. He was ready to break into medical to see about spare medicine.

Eventually Soap's fever drops to a manageable level, but the nightmares persist. He admits that he's been having them a lot lately, mostly about Hassan trying to drop him out of a window. Ghost is more than happy to keep the cuddling up because it also makes his nightmares more manageable.

Once Soap's recovered, they silently decide to sleep together more often.

(Just sleep.)

(For now, at least.)

Ghost manages to avoid getting sick and the moral is that cuddles solve everything and masks are vital when dealing with contagious diseases.

#soapghost #ghostsoap #whump #hurt/comfort #sickfic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #Call of duty

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onmywayend · 2 days

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CS|Morning Service 2 (M)

Boyfriend San x Girlfriend Reader

Smut/Short chapter/slightly dom & sub/make out/hair pulling

"Yah! I'm changing clothes!"

"It's fine. I've seen it so many times before." He pushes you onto the bed, not caring about the time.

“You know what? I’m fucking horny now.” He buries his head in your chest and whispers, kissing you with a shy sucking sound.

"Wait, San. They may see it."

"It doesn’t matter.” Regardless of your obstruction, he suddenly sucks your skin hard, and clear red marks gradually appeared.

"You said we were going to be late." You want to push him away, but his strength is far stronger than yours.

"It's okay, there is an urgent problem that needs to be solved right now." His erect member sinks between your thighs while his arms wrap around your slender waist, and he greedily inhales your scent.

“I’m so hard.” His slightly cool fingertips brush against your bare back, and the numbing touch makes you arch your back, allowing him to skillfully unclasp your bra.

"You're so beautiful, girl. So tasty, so sweet." He cups your cheek with one hand and kisses your lips. You can still taste yourself from the tip of his tongue when it slides into your mouth from time to time.

He entangles with you, licking your red lips for a while, and even drools when he leaves. He trails his kisses down your contours, pecking your jaw, neck and finally drops a kiss on your collarbone.

"Hm...san..." Your lust is aroused by him again as your cunt becomes wetter than before. The "struggle" just now has been given up long ago, and now you are only addicted to sexual desire.

"You want my cock, hm?" "Please." His dirty words turn you on so hard and you desire his cock more. He hisses from your the friction and pressure of your thighs.

"Oh...fuck..." The pressure from his trousers made him very uncomfortable and he couldn't bear it anymore. He sits up straight and takes off his pants and pulls out his reddened and hardened cock seeming eager to enter. You stare at his size with a little surprised as you don’t expect him to be so horny so early in the morning.

“It’s gonna fit. You can take me so well, don’t you?” His words make you blush, a wave of heat surges through your body as your heartbeat suddenly accelerates. He smirks before takes out the condom from the cabinet and puts it on.

He enters directly and smoothly into your cunt. The sudden feeling of satisfaction makes you arch your back and throw your head with a loud moan. The cells all over the body are jumping, and the feeling of excitement seems to be gushing out. He presses on top of you, kissing your lips as he starts thrusting. Your moans are suppressed and can only come out as muffled sounds.

The pace is perfect, neither too rapid nor too sluggish, and the intensity is just right, not too strong or too gentle. As he moves away from your lips and nuzzles into the curve of your neck to kiss, his warm breath caresses your skin, and his playful licks send shivers down your spine. With the rhythmic motion of his hips, you find yourself completely captivated by the sheer pleasure of the moment.

"Moan for me. I love your voice." You unconsciously follow his words and let out a loud moan, which sounds like a beautiful melody to his ears, urging him to quicken his pace until his tip hit just the right spot.

The moments grow shorter as his speed increases, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably, making the bed board squeak in response. Your moans escalate in volume, unafraid of disturbing the neighbors.

"I want deeper, please, san." "My name is not san." "Please, sir." "Good." He lifts your legs and places them on his shoulders, thrusting deeply. The sensation sends shivers down your spine and causes you to release more fluid. He wraps his arms around your legs, taking his time with each thrust, hitting all the right spots.

His chest rises and falls against your calf, his breath and warmth enveloping you. The rush of blood to your head jolts you awake, but his movements continue to steal your breath away. Your cries turn into gasps as your throat grows dry.

"Oh, Y/N. I want to hear more," he whispers.

Confused, you ask, "What?" Before you can react, he flips you over and enters you without hesitation.

"Ah! Fuck! San!!"

“That’s not my name.” He spanks you and you groan shyly.

"Sorry, sir." His thrusts are powerful and relentless, penetrating deeply and igniting a fiery passion within you. As he tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls gently, you arched your back, gazing up at the elegant chandelier above. Through the haze of desire, San's gaze meets yours, fill with a magnetic allure that draw you in.

With a firm grip on your waist, he drives into you with a primal intensity, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The mix of sensation, from the tingling pain in your scalp to the overwhelming pleasure below, left you in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, heightening the intoxicating experience.

"San...no...sir...sir..."

He thrust deeply into your most sensitive spot, causing your knees to weaken and you to collapse onto the bed. He leans over, pressing against your back with his wet chest, your body temperatures blending and intensifying the heat between you.

"What you gonna say? Honey?"

"Hmmm...s...low..." Your words are cut short by his rapid movements, sending you into a state of blissful surrender. The initial pain fades, replaced by a pleasurable sensation that makes you lose yourself in the moment.

Your body responds to his fast thrusts, your skin tingling with each touch, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. His groans mixed with the sound of his lips on your neck, leaving a visible mark.

His thrusts grow erratic as he nears climax, his cock twitching with each movement. "Darling, I need to feel you," he manages to gasp out between breaths, his desire palpable in the air. The heat of his body surges towards its peak, his breathing quickening as he turns you over and continues to pleasure you, his hand expertly stroking your clit.

"Ah~Fuck~San~" "I need you cum." As the dual stimulation pushed you both over the edge, a wave of warmth enveloped his cock, propelling him towards release.

With a moan, he comes into the condom before withdrawing from you. Both of you are left panting heavily, your gazes meeting as you turn to him, running your fingers through his hair and sharing a tender kiss. When you parted, smiles linger on both of your faces.

"Thanks, my love." He nuzzles you like a kitten and held you in his arms. You are about to fall asleep when you suddenly exclaim, making San jump up in fear.

"We are late!!"

“Oh shit!!!”

Not surprisingly, you are late again.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez san

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juniper-clan · 1 day

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I respect you so much for ignoring the rng when it doesn't make sense/to make things more fun!

On one of my saves I got two IDENTICAL gray rosette cats (only difference was a slight tint) on the TWO SEPARATE patrol events in the SAME moon except they were ~50 moons apart in age so in my brain I combined the patrol events and made them mother/daughter

(Also that Trickle- character is absolutely an eventual child of Amber, I'm calling it now)

I try to be pretty strict about the RNG -- because I know that if I fudge it a little here, then I'll let this event slide or reroll that event -- and I will be keeping anything awful from happening to my cats in the story and no one will die.

As awful as Longstrikes death was, it shaped Heron's character and future judgement for her clan. I think JuniperClan would have had a lot less friction story-wise if nothing happened.

But even in the terms of the RNG giving us a shit hand (two identical rosette cats for instance) it at least helps toughen our problem solving skills 💪🏼

#jcasks #this is a ramble I'm eepy #also update on Friday as usual #at like 830 AM CST

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munsonsmixtapes · 1 day

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🦇 💞 🏕️

(ily)

ily2

Eddie x bestie!fem!reader

cw: brief mention of alcohol, vomit, and smoking, reader has a panic attack

summary: your best friend Eddie takes you camping and you have every intention of telling him that you love him as more than just a friend

You had been looking forward to your camping trip with Eddie for weeks and now that he was on his way to pick you up, you were nothing but nervous. You had been in love with the man since the moment you had met him and had only hid your feelings because you were sure that he didn’t feel the same.

After a few drinks at a party you had gone to with him, Steve had told you that Eddie had loved you too, but you were still hesitant to talk to him about it. You weren’t exactly sure why, but the thought terrified you. Going from friends to lovers. It would be different and you weren’t sure if you wanted different. But you felt like he deserved to know so maybe you should have told him the truth.

You saw Eddie’s van pull into his driveway from your bedroom window and felt bile climb up your throat as you grabbed your duffel bag that was sitting on your bed. You swallowed your vomit and took a deep breath before heading down the stairs. Your hand rested on the handle of the front door, but you couldn’t get yourself to open it. All of the endless possibilities of something going wrong swirled in your head and it all made you feel dizzy.

You shook your head and then put on a smile as you opened the door, heading towards the van that Eddie was leaning against with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His hair was pulled away from his face in a very loose bun and he was dressed in a muscle tank with the sides cut open and a pair of very short shorts. The whole look made him look so hot that you couldn’t even comprehend it.

His face lit up when he saw you and he put out his cigarette with the bottom of his shoe before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug as if he hadn’t seen you the day before. Eddie always gave the best hugs. They were filled with so much love and he’d hold on as long as the person he was holding wanted. Being in his arms could have easily solved so many of your problems. All of them except the glaring one that wouldn’t leave your mind.

“You okay?” He asked when he pulled away from you. The only bad thing about Eddie was that he always knew when something was wrong. One look at your face and he was asking you how you were doing. In that moment, you were fine. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

“I’m fine, Eds,” you nodded. “Now, we have a long trip ahead of us, so let’s hit the road.” You hit the side of his van twice with the palm of your hand then handed your bag to Eddie who put it in the back before heading over to your side and opening the passenger door for you.

“It’s only thirty minutes,” he laughed as he closed the door once you were safely inside. You knew that, but it was definitely going to feel long with the secret you were hiding. If you had it your way, you would have canceled the trip, but you couldn’t have done that to Eddie, especially not because he was so excited.

The silence between you was deafening. It felt like the walls were closing in on you and your breathing was getting heavy. Everything was sounding was muffled, even the loud metal mixtape that was playing from the stereo. Your breathing was becoming more labored and your chest was getting tight. You could breathe, but it felt like it was constricted.

As soon as Eddie realized what was going on with you, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road and as soon as he was parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car, making a beeline for the grassy area that was to your right. You just needed some fresh air.

You raced into the grass and Eddie was quick to follow, needing to make sure that you were okay. To him. It seemed like you were having a panic attack and he surely didn’t want you to be alone for that. He was going to help you every step of the way.

“Y/n,” he called after you, but you kept running. He chased after you and eventually caught up to you, grabbing onto your wrist as gently as he could. You were still breathing heavily and he was nervous for you. He had never seen you like that.

“Honey,” he rested his hands on your shoulders, his eyes looking straight into yours. Looking up into those pretty pools of honey, your breath shuttered and you felt tears well up in your eyes. This tears turned into sobs and Eddie was quick to wrap you up in his arms.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hands running up and down your back. “What’s going on, hon?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? Y/n, you had a panic attack. What is going on?”

“You wanna know what’s going on?” You asked, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “Eddie, I’m in love with you!” Everything stopped when you said the words and all Eddie could do was gasp. He honestly didn’t know what to say, but all he could do was smile.

“Have been since the moment I met you and Steve told me that you feel the same way, but I was terrified to mention it because I didn’t want things to change, but now I do.”

“And you know what?” He squeezed your shoulders. “I’m scared too.”

“You are?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “But I’m willing to take a chance if you are.”

“I am.”

“Guess the only thing left to do is seal this thing with a kiss,” he winked. Your arms wrapped around his waist while his moved around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a dizzying kiss.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

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spidybaby · 16 hours

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Dull shine part 2 pleeeeease 😫❤️ ur srsly talented!!!

Dull Shine | Part Two

Summary: An advice and looking into the mirror makes Kylian understand why you left.

Warnings: cursing, depression topic, money issues.

A/N: It's meeee hiiii, I'm the problem it's ME. Sorry about taking so much time, I was solving some personal things, and now I'm freeeee 😫✨️ love you all so much ❤️

Also, heads-up, this is short because I think it's all it needs, not a full part two, more like a compliment that seals the deal 😀❤️

Part one

One day left.

That's what Kylian told himself when he woke up.

One day left for you to come back.

He can't deny that he wasn't the most excited person in the room the next day at practice. Everybody noticed, it was like everybody knew what happened that night.

But not at Luis Enrique's home. At his own, when he told you to move on from the problem he created.

When he ignored you, back turned to you. When you needed him the most. Every time he thinks about it, his heart sinks. It's a weight he's not able to lift.

His mother was the first to notice your absence. He walked into his home with something for you and you weren't there.

The first excuse. "She's working late."

Then it was Ethan. He called you to go to the movies and have a fun night. Wanting to see you after being busy with the team.

The second excuse. "She's sick, have a cold."

They both believed his words. Thinking you were being taken care of by him. But when the excuses kept coming. It wasn't normal anymore.

"Just be honest, we are your family." Fayza says. Sitting next to him. "Tell us what happened."

He sighs, ready to finally disclose his feelings. "She left a week and a half ago." He confess. Hands covering his face. "We had a fight, I said some things just days before, and she wasn't at the right mental place to deal with everything."

They didn't understood. How?

"What do you mean she left?" Ethan asks, standing up from his seat. "She left just like that? You let her leave just like that?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Kylian fights back. "She had her things packed, her ticket purchased and I thought that was the best thing. Don't you think this hurts me?"

"I can't believe you, Kylian. You lie to us, instead of admit that you fucked up. You lie straight to our faces."

"I was hurt, Y/n left, I was scared of facing that."

Fayza is silent, processing the information while her sons yell at each other.

"Enough, Ethan, sit down." She orders. "Kylian, you two broke up?"

He shakes his head no. "She just needed time. We were just not working together in understanding each others probl-"

"More like you weren't." Ethan interrupts. "Because all I hear is me, me, me. But you don't really think that same thinking got you where you are?"

He didn't fight back.

He knows his little brother is right.

"When will she be back?" His mother asks, worried expression.

"In a few days."

And those few days turned into just a few hours.

To be honest with himself, he was stressed. You were going to be back in Paris, but we're you going to be back with him?

Will the break become a breakup?

He was overthinking. That was not good.

Hakimi felt bad. He knew you better. When he heard what Kylian told him about you leaving, about Pamela belittling you, he checked his cameras.

The good thing about having money is that you can afford a very good quality security system. He heard how Pamela attacked you first. You then answered back, but you weren't going to let yourself get insulted.

He apologized to you over text. Asking you to forgive him and tell you how much guilt he feels about this whole situation.

When you read the texts, you felt weird. It wasn't his fault, or even Pamela's.

Everything was a mix of frustration, sadness and low self-respect you had for yourself.

You defend yourself from Pamela, but who was going to defend you from yourself?

You were the one belittling yourself.

Were you enough? You are.

But were you feeling enough? No.

Were you happy with Kylian?

And that question burned your mind for days.

You loved Kylian, he was your rock and you were his rock. You passed some critical times, but nothing like this.

Because he was there for you when you needed him the most, he was there when you lost someone, he was there when you felt homesick, he was there at you happiest.

But you didn't allow him to he at your lowest.

You notice how he was going out more, but he always asked you to come with him. Begged you to leave the house and accompany him.

You notice how he never heard you talk. But you barely even made conversation. You let him speak. When it was your turn, you only said, "I had a good day."

He had to fulfill the quietness with words.

Your mother asked you to think about therapy. Maybe there was something you needed that she or anyone couldn't understand. Something only you could.

And you did. You went to therapy while you were there. Every two days.

It was just the beginning, but it helped you understand that you had more than just a relationship problem. In fact, the relationship problem came from this.

Being blue is normal. We all feel like that.

But when you don't treat it, it can be rough. And you were doing that now, understanding that you needed help. Help that a trip home won't give you. Help that a fight with your friends new girlfriend won't give you.

But help that your lover can give you. He can be the hand to hold during this.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I know now what I need to do." You say, hugging your friend.

You felt nervous about coming back.

Would he be okay with that?

Did he realize he didn't need you anymore?

If only you knew how anxious he is at Paris. Watching the time every five minutes to see if your arrival time is coming closer.

He prepared your favorite meal. Got your favorite dessert, your favorite drink and even prepare everything for a bubble bath.

He needed you to know how much he appreciates you, how important you are for him.

You were nervous too, your leg bouncing and bitting your nails. You brought him a gift from your home. Something he asked you a long time ago, and you never got due to not being able to travel back home.

You asked for an Uber. Not wanting his chauffeur to pick you or him to get out in the coldness of Paris.

The whole drive was painful. You were overthinking.

Both of you were.

"Would she be back to stay?"

"Is this going to end?"

"What if he doesn't want me back?"

"What if this is the end?"

"Madame, we are here." The Uber called your attention once your things were next to you on the street.

"Merci beaucoup." You say, paying him and telling him that you will take it from here.

You open the gate with your control. The sound of it interrupting the calm of the evening.

When he heard the sound, his heart stopped for a second. He was about to throw up from nerves.

The giggle of the keys makes him stop, he feels like throwing up. He took a sip of water before looking at himself on his phone camera, checking if he looked presentable.

The smell of food hits you as soon as you walk inside. Leaving your suitcase by the stairs and slowly walking inside trying to find him.

His back welcomes you, he's focused on his phone to notice you walking into the kitchen. The table was ready, your favorite food ready to be served.

"Kyks?"

He turns quickly, smiling at you with soft eyes. He walks with open arms to you. You lock your arms behind his back, feeling his kisses on your face.

"Mon amour." He kiss your forehead. "How was your flight? Did you even sleep? Are you hungry? I made your favorite meal and I was waiting f-"

You interrupted him by kissing his lips, and all the worries from both of you are out the door. You know he's not mad, and he knows you still love him.

"It was good. Thank you for updating my seat." You answer his questions. "I did sleep, almost all the flight, and I'm very hungry. Thank you for cooking. I can't wait to try it."

He kiss you on the lips, smiling into the kiss. His safe space is back with him. There is nothing better right now.

He pulls you to the chairs, serving you the food and drink. You can tell he was happy. He looked fresh.

You eat in silence. The peace of it is different than before. There was no more weird silence that a video or keyboard sound filled.

"Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He nods, waiting for the right time to talk about all the things that need to be talked about. He lays his head on your shoulder. Kissing your neck.

You feel the same. You want to jump and talk about everything to end the topic and move on. But that was not the way.

However, procrastinating the conversation wasn't the way either. "Let's talk. The faster, the better." You smile.

"Impatient much?" He jokes. Standing up and taking the plates to the sink. "Let's go to the living room?"

You nod, standing up and grabbing his hand, directing him to the big fluffy couch you both love.

"I want to start." He says as soon as his body falls into the cushion.

"Okay, lovie." You smile.

He thinks for a second, how can he ask what he needs to ask? He knows that no matter what, it will hit.

"Why weren't you honest about you having money issues?"

Your expression didn't change. You knew he knew. Celine asked you to pick your check a few days after you asked her you were taking a few days off to rest your mind.

You asked Kylian to pick it up, and Celine gave him a piece of her mind. She felt bad about doing it and called you a few hours later.

She told him that he was an asshole if he couldn't even tell that you were having issues not only with your peace of mind but with how much you worked and felt bad about never been able to match the lifestyle he was.

"I don't have money issues, Ky." You say, low but enough for him to hear. "What I had was the concept that I needed to have a certain amount of money to be enough for you. Leading to me working extra and feeling less than everybody who was around and could give themselves the benefit of spending what I earned in a nightclub."

He nods, understanding. "You know that I'm not like that, right?"

"I do. You always supported me in any way you could. And I'm grateful for you. I just felt so out of place." You sigh. "And every girl who got close to your friends always asked me about your ex, how she was this way and this way. I felt like competing."

He can feel his heart sinks. He never wanted you to compare yourself to the girls he dated. There was a reason why he was done with those relationships.

"You are so smart." He says, hand caressing your cheek. "You have no idea how much I ever wanted to end with someone like you. Not only beautiful but a very strong woman who doesn't need other peoples opinions and who can shine on her own."

You can feel your eyes watering. You never thought that his words were something you needed, but you did.

"My ex-girlfriends are just that. Exes. You are my present and my future." He kiss your cheek. "And I want you to know that no amount of money or any girl who I ever got anything with is going to take the place you have in my heart. You are the one."

Your lips found his, you can't think of any future plans or anything that didn't include him. You know he was your one, and knowing you are his one is heartwarming.

"I'm sorry, I know I was acting like a bitch. I think I felt way too comfortable, and I was so wrong for not noticing that you weren't you. I promise I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Thank you for that." You smile. "I'm sorry too, I was overwhelmed with all the thoughts in my mind. I think I let the worst of it hit me and never paint mind to it."

"It's okay." He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it. "You have me, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

The warmth in your heart is hard to describe. You are sure he will be with you no matter what. The same way you were for him when he needed you.

You hug him, falling into his embrace. His hands caressing your body while he left sweet words in your ear.

"We are going to be okay because we have each other." He kiss your lips and your head. "Tu m’as et je t’ai. Je t’aime, tu es mon monde." He humms.

#football #football fanfic #football angst #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian x reader #kylian angst #kylian mbappe x reader #football fluff #kylian fluff #football x you

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cbrownjc · 3 days

Text

My more detailed thoughts on EP 2x04 :

Spoilers below the cut:

@emeraldinerosefaedragon pulled this quote about Armand, which I believe is from The Vampire Companion book, that I think encompasses very much what we saw by the end of this episode:

Do I think Armand is some huge grand mastermind, manipulating every single thing that is going on years in advance in a mustache-twirling villain-type of way? No, I do not.

But just because Armand's not that, doesn't mean he isn't cunning or smart. And that he can't think this way on the fly, especially when a new troublesome situation presents itself to him.

Armand had two main problems at the start of this episode: the coven grumbling about the fact that Louis was still not a member -- after almost two years it seems -- and Louis not viewing Armand as his companion.

And by the end of the episode? Well, both problems are pretty much solved, aren't they? Louis, in letting Dreamstat go, has made a choice to start to try and move on, with Armand the one he is choosing to have by his side. Louis didn't say it, but Claudia did -- Louis had decided, after that trek to the museum, to accept Armand as his companion.

Along with this Louis also decided, (after he comes to terms that his photography isn't going to go further for him after meeting with that photo editor guy), again of his own free will, to join the coven. Which now makes Louis bound to its ways and laws. Which, in the book, the Great Laws are just a fig leaf, but I think the show is having the TdV -- and had Armand too at first as well -- take them much more seriously . . . but that's a meta as to why for another time.

Anyway, at the end of the episode, the two main problems Armand had at the beginning of the episode are very much solved by the end. Louis is joining the coven and Louis is accepting Armand to him as a companion. And no, the solving of those issues was not a happenstance IMO. Armand even told Louis, rather directly at the top of the episode, that these two things were problems for him, and Louis just barely conceded to one of those two things at the start -- which is only that he'll "come around" and spend more time with the coven. By the end of the episode, however . . . Louis fully commits to giving Armand both things.

Do I think Armand might have had a bit of influence over what that photo editor said to Louis about his pictures? Hey, I can't prove anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if he did, given Armand's Mind Gift abilities (which, put a pin in this, as I'll get to talking about that in a bit). But, more than anything, I think Armand went with a strategic full-court press when it came to having Louis decide to commit to him as a companion wrt that whole museum date.

And, unlike Lestat, who held his trauma and vulnerabilities from Louis until things had reached a point of no return, Armand opens up to Louis about his past traumas and vulnerabilities long before it has even begun to get to such a point. But also because Louis is still reluctant to fully give himself over to truly being companions with Louis. But here, Armand is showing Louis that he will not withhold when it comes to such things as this -- something Lestat very much did withhold for a very long time.

However, a bit of dialogue from Armand during the scene where Louis is practicing his Fire Gift abilities is key when it comes to Armand's thought process when it comes to why he decided to share this about himself with Lous, as well as when it comes to solving issues in general IMO -- "I try to find the vulnerability within the object."

Which is what he says wrt how he uses the Fire Gift, yes, but I do not believe that it is something Armand just does when using the Fire Gift. I believe that comes to all situations in his life, especially when it comes to being a coven leader and master.

Lestat withholding in the ways he did made Louis feel not just frustrated but powerless. As Louis exclaimed just last episode, "Lestat didn't tell me shit!" Because even when Lestat did finally start to tell Louis (and Claudia) some things (about Magnus and Nicki) there was still very much he still withheld, even after that.

But Armand? Well, after that museum trip that withholding issue is starting to look quiet different with Armand than it was with Lestat, I'd say.

And in Armand's eyes, well . . . if even yielding can be a way of eventually gaining something, then so be it. Because who says yielding to something means that you must now also be in a weak position? IMO, it's very much like the adage about attacking from a defensive position.

This brings us to the end of the episode and seeing what Santiago, Celeste, and Quan were up to.

And can I say right now -- it actually doesn't matter one way or another if this ends up being a true mutiny by the coven . . . or if Armand is manipulating this stuff. For the record, I personally don't think Santiago and the others were under orders from Armand to go and search Louis and Claudia's apartment. But again, it doesn't matter one way or the other because there is just no way in hell a vampire as powerful as Armand didn't know he was being watched at that moment in the park with Louis.

Armand put not just the entire dining room but all his coven members -- including Claudia -- into a stasis state by just one command. (And no, that power isn't something from the books, but the show made it clear back in episode 2x03 that the ability to do this is part of the Mind Gift -- which is one of Armand's two most powerful abilities btw).

No. Armand knew damn well he was being watched. And frankly, I would not be at all surprised to learn that Armand could hear all that telepathic conversation going on between Quan, Celeste, and Santiago either. Again this episode already made it clear how powerful Armand's Mind Gift abilities are, plus that he can hear thoughts even when at a distance. (Such as when he got summoned from the museum wrt Claudia befriending Madeleine).

So, no. Armand knows damn well what is going on wrt the coven. The reason I don't think Armand was behind Santiago and the others doing this -- at least right now -- is only because I don't think Armand has decided, just quite yet, to fully choose Louis over them completely and therefore have the coven destroyed. I think that is a choice he is going to make -- due to some event, mostly likely the turning of Madeleine -- in Episode 6.

But once Armand makes that choice? That the coven has to go? He will use what he knows to bring that about. And probably winning the coven fully back to his side right before the trial is set up . . . in order to set everything in motion for their demise in the end, and having Louis all for himself.

(Where the Frankenstein Experiment comes into all of this I still can't figure out, but that can be put on hold for now.)

So yeah. Armand isn't a Machavelli. But he is smart and cunning and good at working out situations he finds himself in. To the point that, even when he appears to be yielding, he still ends up dominating.

Other things:

-- I've already been thinking that one of the reasons that the show made present-day Daniel older was because it was going to be part of helping Armand work through his issues with Marius. And now, after this episode and hearing from Armand's own mouth how much darker the show's version of Marius is -- and Armand's relationship with Marius is looking to be, I feel that all even more. Because now older Daniel will not only have the maturity to directly say what that relationship dynamic was . . . but it will also help Daniel himself understand why his past relationship with Armand was the way it was because . . .

-- I've also been thinking that, in many ways, Armand and Daniel's relationship in the past was going to mirror a lot of what we'd learn, and then eventually see, of Marius and Armand's past relationship. And I feel that even more so now. I think a lot of parallels will begin to be set up now that we, the audience have heard from Armand himself what his relationship with Marius was like.

-- I don't feel that was just a random slip-up by Daniel when he mentioned the theater fire. I think something else compelled him to say that. Well, something or someone else.

-- That final scene between Louis and Dreamstat was so sad. I really do think that Louis, at that moment, was accepting that Lestat was well and truly dead.

-- Those Talamasca files that Daniel has are not the full and complete files about everything. I was already suspecting that when Daniel was given them last week. But the fact that there are those 5 files (three images and two audio) related to Daniel? Nope. Daniel was strategically given what he was given. Because it's not like Daniel can verify if that is or isn't the complete files the Talamasca have about himself or anything else.

-- And speaking of the Talamasca . . . just like with the coven, I will be surprised if Armand doesn't know that he and Louis were being tracked by them at one -- or many other -- points in time. Though, in that instance, if he doesn't I won't look too sideways at it . . . given that I just finished reading the chapter in Prince Lestat that explains the Talamasca's origins. And Rolin Jones did note that Prince Lestat is one of the books this season takes information from, so . . .

-- I knew Santiago was going to get to Claudia's diaries at some point. But even then, I can't really tell if he truly likes her or is just 100% playing her. But, maybe deep down Claudia herself feels something off with him, or she wouldn't have sought out a friendship -- companionship -- elsewhere. I, personally, don't see what is developing between Claudia and Madeleine as romantic (eros) love, but there is love growing there -- for sure on Claudia's end, and I'd say affection (just right now) on Madeleine's. The show is probably being a bit careful on this, seeing as how Madeleine still thinks Claudia is just a kid, although it's also clear she's sensing something is different about Claudia as well.

So, all in all, very good episode. I actually like it more than last week's. It's still mostly set up, but it's set up with more movement to it when it comes to character development and plot IMO, which I really loved.

#Interview with the Vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #Armand #The Vampire Armand #Louis de Pointe du Lac #Daniel Molloy #Claudia #iwtv spoilers #iwtv episode thoughts #iwtv Season 2 #Santiago #Théâtre des Vampires #TdV #Theater Coven

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alaydabug2 · 1 day

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I love Elwin so this hurts 😭😭😭

(Elwin's pov)

Sophie walked into the Healing Center. Not that Elwin was surprised.

He snorted. "All right, what's it this time?"

Sophie sat on her cott, her picture hanging above it. "Elementalism gone wrong. Cut my hand on an exploded bottle."

Elwin grabbed a balm and some bandages. "Of course you did."

He spread the balm onto her hand, then wrapped it in a bandage. He noticed her shoulders sagged. So he asked, "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "I was actually distracted during class. That's how this happened." She gestured to her hand. "Forkle is being stubborn again."

Elwin frowned. "Huh. Withholding information?"

"When is he not? I deserve to know who l my biological parents are!"

He froze. Almost under his breath, he whispered, "You do."

Sophie didn't continue the conversation, so they were left in silence. He knew that was the perfect opening for the conversation. But... Mr. Forkle would be so mad at him for it.

But at the same time, Sophie deserved to know who she was related to.

When he unwrapped her bandage, there was still a large gash. She winced.

This was his opportunity.

He reached for a couple more balms. "This is a pretty nasty cut. It'll take a minute. Want to hear a story in the meantime?"

She perked up a bit at that. "Sure."

He chuckled. "Alright. What if I told you this story starts with a man? He was pretty lonely his whole life. His peers made fun of him for being childish when he was younger." Elwin leaned in and fake whispered, "But he really knew they were just jealous of him being so awesome." She giggled as he leaned back. "Well, when he grew up, he wanted to be a part of something. But he had no friends and no wife or children to call his own. He loved his job, but that was it."

He reached for another balm and spread it on her hand. He wrapped it with a cloth to let it sit. He stood and headed for an elixir on the massive wall of medicine as he explained, "So, when, one day, this mysterious group approached him about being a part of something world changing, he was interested."

Sophie tilted her head. He came back with the elixir and handed it to her.

"He was told that they wanted to have him help the world for the greater good. He had seen plenty of injustices over the years that others didn't seem to notice, so... he agreed." Elwin let out a sigh. This next part would make or break everything. "He was requested to volunteer to use his part of DNA and an unknown female to be made into an embryo. A child... he would likely never come to know."

Sophie's eyes widened. She started to open her mouth to say something, but he needed to finish everything before she said anything. He quickly grabbed a bottle of youth, hoping she didn't notice it was just water, and thrusted it her face. It spattered on her, but she drank it. Probably just so she wouldn't choke on it.

He continued as he pulled out another balm, intentionally taking the wrong one to buy him more time for explanation. "He started to second guess himself. He almost backed out. Twice. But... the group managed to convince him, saying that this child would be the one to help our world. They told him this child... would be the one to finally solve the problems the higher-ups couldn't see."

Elwin hung his head. He grabbed another pot of cream. Instead of a poultice, it was just a random lotion. "He hated seeing so many children during his time working at a school to be crushed thanks to things they didn't have control over. Having to break to them after trying so hard during ability sessions and getting injured from pushing to hard, that they may be talentless. After taking care of kids who were beat up because of being kids of a bad match. Or because they were a multiple birth. The pain of watching kids he cared so much about, getting banished."

He got up and looked away, blinking hard. He took the right balm off another shelf. "He wanted things to be fixed so badly. He honestly would've done anything to have them fixed. So, if he could help?"

He wiped off the balm to reveal clean, smooth skin. He picked up Stinky the Stegasourus off his desk, squeezing him tight and sitting down on his rolly stool in front of Sophie's cott. He continued to stare at his feet.

"Years passed. And he waited for the day that he'd start seeing of this child that he'd help create. The last thing he expected was for her to come into the room he was sitting in, absolutely terrified of him."

Sophie squirmed around. She looked ready to bolt. Or cry. And Elwin wouldn't blame her.

He placed a hand on her knee. "What if I told you he wanted to explain everything to her from the second they met? What if told you he's always loved her? What if I told you that I've almost told you on several occasions, but Mr. Forkle warned me I'd get I trouble if I did? If I've felt so guilty every single day that you didn't have information, you have the right to know? That I've felt at fault for all the awful things you've gone through? Things you never asked for."

Sophie gripped the sides of the cott. She definitely caught his switch in words. He finally looked up, looking into her eyes. Whoever her mother is, she definitely got the majority of her looks from her. But he could still see a few similarities in their appearances. She had Elwin's cheekbones and ears. The way her brows scrunched together when she was frustrated was uncannily his. She probably never noticed. But he noticed.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

His heart had swelled when he realized she slept with the stuffed animal that used to be in his collection. The only update he'd ever gotten from Mr. Forkle about his child was when he was told she had an accident and was in the hospital. Even if he wasn't able to help her in any way, he wanted to do something.

He begged Forkle to take the blue, Hawaiian shirt wearing elephant. Told him to give it to her when she was better. He eventually agreed.

But seeing her with the stuffed animal broke it all the same.

"I'm so sorry, Sophie," he murmured. "I am so, so, so sorry. I wish I'd said something sooner. You've deserved that much. I understand if you hate me, you have the right to. If you want Livy to start taking care of you instead, I can call her up later today. I've always cared about you, though. When I thought you had died, I kept blaming myself. I thought it was all my fault."

Elwin tilted his head back. Tears fell down his cheeks when he blinked.

"You can do whatever you want with this information. I don't care what Forkle says anymore. You've should've known this a long time ago."

Sophie looked into his tear filled eyes. She scooted further on the cott.

Away from him.

Elwin's heart splintered.

"I... don't know what to do with this information," she whispered. "Not how I thought this day would go." She curled up into a Sophie ball and tugged at her lashes. "I need time to think about this."

He nodded.

"I think... I want to try and make it work," she eventually murmured. "You actually told me. I... didn't have to figure it out the hard way. Like some people." She muttered the last bit under her breath. It made him wonder if she knew something about her mother that he didn't, but now was not the time to ask. "That... can be a point to work off of."

"I want to be in your life, Sophie." He sat down next to her on the cott. "I used to wonder constantly if I had made the wrong decision. But after I met you, I knew I made the right choice. I'll never regret my decision, even if you hate me. I'd do it all over again. You've grown up to be such an amazing young woman. I just wish I could've seen you grow up. And in a way, I have, but..." he sighed. "You know what I mean."

The best possible thing she could've done happened, she hugged him. Elwin closed his eyes and held her tight, trying to make up for all the trouble he caused her. "I... can work with this," she murmured. "I appreciate your honesty. Thank you." She pulled away. She was shaking. She sighed. "But I need to he honest too." Sophie wrapped her arms around herself. "I need time."

Elwin nodded. "That's ok. Take as long as you need. I'll be right here next week when you hurt yourself again," he teased.

Her lips twitched up a smidge. "Ok, see you then." It faded.

She took a breath and left the Healing Center without another word. Elwin sat down on the ground by the door. He buried his fave between his knees and ran his hands through his hair.

He was glad to finally get it off his chest. He felt a million pounds lighter. It went a lot better than he was expecting.

She was hurt, of course. But that smile that she had before she left, the one that looked exactly like his, gave him hope.

Maybe he could salvaged this and make it work.

#keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc sophie foster #kotlc Elwin #kotlc Elwin Heslege #kotlc theory #theory #im sorry Elwin 😢

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 1 day

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I have provided fresh meat, my Darlings!

The link to the entire fic as well as the new chapter is provided above.

@blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @richardslady121 Also please let me know if you would also liked to be tagged with updates!

CW: dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; rough sex; implied/referenced child abuse; blood kink; problematic smut; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced torture

Chapter summary: Feyd-Rautha and the Reader look at each other and think, "They need work, but it's fine. I'm training them."

Chapter Notes:

-This chapter doesn't have quite as much plot or action and is generally more introspective/kind of shows a turning point and transition to both the Reader starting to learn to play the game and Feyd-Rautha seeking to challenge and unnerve her. Basically the Reader thinking, "I don't think I can reasonably make him better but I can make him treat me better" and Feyd thinking, "I can make her worse😈" -There have been a lot of interpretations of Feyd-Rautha's Darlings given that there's little information we're really given within the movie and I really like the theory that I've seen going around that they're effectively animals with human bodies that were experimented on by the Bene Tleilax.

CHAPTER SEVEN: YOU'RE LEARNING

You wake up early the next morning to your morning coffee and a reminder of your mother’s advice. She dispensed it more than once over the years, enough that you were able to repeat it verbatim: sometimes a person isn’t a person, but an obstacle. Sometimes they’re obstacles that you need to face, problems that you need to solve. Find out what they need that you can use to get ahead.

So what does Feyd-Rautha want and how do you get it for him in order to temper him, make him more amenable to you? He’s made clear at this point what he doesn’t want: compassion that he’s undoubtedly misconstrued as pity, any reminders of his childhood and adolescence, and any insinuations–intentional or otherwise–that he’s inadequate as a man.

That leaves what he does want from you, and for the most part you think you know. He wants you to have his children, and that’s in progress if not now, then soon. He wants, well, other than last night, he’s been transparent that he wants you , carnally if for nothing else.

He also wants you to properly learn to fight at the level he wants, and there’s no way it’s just for your sake, or even wanting you to stay safe as the mother of his future children. Those are a given.

You can’t forget the way he’d gotten hard during your training and the way he spoke about it later. You hadn’t seen it in the arena when he was slashing throats with theatricality and precision but little else, but this must be intimate for him. It doesn’t surprise you once you think about it; a man who enjoys the taste of your blood would most certainly get off on getting a knife at your throat, even if he’s not allowed to cut it.

So how do you use that? The Reverend Mother Mohiam all but stated that seduction was the key to tempering and subduing him into something you can handle but that’s easier said than done. You’ve understood on some level for years now that you’d one day have to learn to use your sex as a tool, but it’s easier to implement in theory rather than practice. The limited experience you’ve had before this–kisses both stolen and given freely at night when you’d slipped away unsupervised, fondling over the clothes, above the waist, and once grasping and sliding your hand over a boy you’d liked as he’d panted and moaned directions at you and you’d frantically tried to finish him off before either of you could get caught--weren’t for an agenda but for its own enjoyment. Before your wedding night the only person who’d dared go beneath your skirts was you. And then, of course, you’re reasonably certain that most men don’t keep an entire armoire of devices to use or have used on them while in bed, that most men aren’t eager to taste their wife’s blood, that most men don’t carry around the kind of shame and buried anger that your husband does wrapped in a deep-seated need to hurt and be hurt.

But that’s the hand that you’ve been dealt, and the only leverage you’ll be getting out of this marriage is by appealing to those desires and using your own body as a tool to keep him satiated and keep you in the best of his care.

By the time you’ve finished plaiting your hair you’ve decided that you’ve learned enough since your wedding night that you can try and use to your advantage. You’ll keep adapting and if one of the ways to win him over is at knifepoint, then so be it.

And if he wants to banish everyone from the Training Halls so he can rut into you like an animal next to a rack of knives, then fine. You can take him however he comes to you.

You try to keep all this in mind as you leave your chambers and take to the Training Halls for another lesson.

Feyd-Rautha already appears to have broken a sweat. Drills, you assume, and done alongside his men if their matching sheens are anything to go by.

Korvo’s back to train you, he says. He needed to have part of his jaw wired shut but otherwise he’s fine; he just won’t be able to talk much for a while.

And strangely enough it’s true; whatever Healer Korvo went to did an excellent job because there’s not a lot of bruising or swelling. It occurs to you that he looks a few years older than Feyd, and you can’t help but wonder what Korvo thought about the hushed rumors about the Baron’s proclivities years ago. About Feyd-Rautha, the boy who’s become the man he now serves.

As for your husband, it’s as if the past couple of nights never happened. He seems indifferent as he hands you your shield device and a knife. There’s not a trace of the quiet rage from early yesterday morning nor the cold domination of last night. Not that you were ever going to ask him, especially not with other people around, but he gives you your answer to the silent question, When are we going to talk about yesterday? The answer? Never .

He has Korvo start off slowly with you, a warm-up of sorts, movements guarded as you go over strikes and parries before taking over for the rest of your session.

You think you’re prepared for it this time as he starts to speed up, stops going through the motions and actually starts sparring with you. You tell yourself that no one’s going to catch you unawares again, but well. His training is a lot more extensive than yours. You let out a yelp, realizing yet again that you weren’t focused enough on his footwork and he’s taken the opportunity to trip you. You stumble, catching yourself just in time to avoid a fall.

“You’ve had a day to rest,” Feyd says. “There’s no reason you can’t be pushed farther.”

To rest . He was the one that told you not to come and train yesterday. You clench your jaw and strike again. If anything Feyd-Rautha seems amused by your irritation and sends you stumbling again with a swat on the backside with the flat of his knife.

You turn, incredulous and with an insult on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t strike in anger,” he says, holding back a smirk. You raise your chin and try to level your gaze at him as you try to collect yourself.

Hey, this is actually a good sign , a part of you realizes. There’s something almost close to playful in the way he’s looking at you right now. He’s already in a far better mood than he was yesterday . This is working for him.

You roll your shoulders and take a defensive stance, silently gesturing for him to strike first, and this time he actually grins.

Breakfast afterwards is its own task. You’ve gotten your appetite back this morning, but only when you forget everything except your own hunger and especially try your best to ignore the man at the head of the table. You’ll try to bury what you know about the Baron for now, or at least try to act like he doesn’t disgust you. Not that he’d care what you think of him, not like you can do anything about it.

Instead you wonder about what motherhood looks like on this planet. You’ll not want for anything, you’re sure, in terms of space for the baby and help raising it, but you hope the Baron isn’t an indicator of how children are raised here. You haven’t seen many children in the Fortress–the sons and daughters of captains and generals, you’re sure–and you haven’t interacted with any. Feyd-Rautha mentioned military and combat training for any sons you’ll have but what about general schooling?

When the children come, surely you’ll be a part of their lives somehow? You’ll make certain of it. You have to; they’ll be raised in the Harkonnen culture but they’ll still be half you , and you’ll do everything to make sure they never forget that, where you come from and the half of them that you represent.

“Not too tired from your training session, are you?” Feyd-Rautha asks, and you realize that you’ve been drifting off, staring into the distance. You hadn’t expected him to notice.

“Oh, no, husband,” you tell him. “Just lost in thought. Actually, I was curious about where one might put a nursery in the private quarters.” Not that there would’ve been any use for them within the royal family in decades, but surely there must have been something installed before?

As soon as Feyd starts to answer, the Baron interrupts, “What are you training her for?”

“Just in the event of an emergency or ambush, I want her to be prepared to defend herself. If the time ever comes that I’m not there to do it for her,” Feyd-Rautha adds.

The Baron looks at him with those beady blue eyes. “You really think such a thing will ever happen, boy?” he asks, and there’s an undercurrent to his tone that makes you look away, never mind that they’ve started talking about you as if you aren’t there.

Boy . As if not just Feyd’s title but his very manhood is a privilege his uncle bestows on him that he can revoke at a moment’s notice.

Feyd ignores the taunt. “Just planning ahead,” he says. It doesn’t come back up. When you excuse yourself to use the bathroom the Baron doesn’t react when you come back. He barely seems to notice you’re there.

To him, you are not family. You are the orifice his handsome young nephew buries himself in and the birthing canal that will add to the Harkonnen lineage, but not a real person who’s earned any familiarity with him nor will you ever be. That suits you just fine and you find that you’d rather he ignore you than pay any special attention to you, just so long as he never gets to sink his claws into your future children.

Speaking of which, “The Fortress has everything you could need,” Feyd says. “Our children will have their own quarters and plenty of staff to watch over them.”

And how about allowing me to watch over them? you want to ask, but won’t, especially since you’re not alone. Or do ladies of leisure outsource all of that here? Idrisa will know; you’ll save your real questions for her.

After breakfast Feyd-Rautha offers you his arm. “I imagine you’re interested in the relaxation chambers now?” he asks. “They provide massages. Great for the joints.”

“I could be persuaded,” you tell him, feeling not just sore from earlier this morning but from two days ago. You’d never considered yourself a lazy person but you’ve also never committed to any kind of daily training regimen and the nighttime and occasionally additional morning routines in the bedroom certainly haven’t helped.

“It’s interesting,” you tell him, “training with you and seeing how you do it, even if I’m not there for all of it.”

“That wasn’t my last training session for the day,” he says. “I’m going back soon.”

You blink. “Why?” you ask him. He’d clearly started early and gotten his heart pumping by the time you’d arrived.

“To be as physically prepared as I can for the arena showing on my birthday. It’s less than three weeks away at this point,” he says.

You look over at him with your brows furrowed. What does he really need extra preparation for? He’s in no danger, there’s no real risk.

He seems to understand your confusion. “It’s important that I look like I'm in top form,” he explains, which just presents further questions.

How will they even know what your body looks like? If it’s anything like last time, you’ll be the only fighter in the arena that’s fully dressed .

“Well, alright,” you finally. You look back at him. “So you’re going to have to get changed again into training gear, and then shower again and change again after that?”

“Yes,” he says, voice curt. “Appearance is important here.”

Yours is, certainly , you don’t tell him. But you do realize that your uncle’s still the Baron and he floats around in his suspensor chair wearing a long nightgown? If he’s ever cared about his appearance, he must’ve stopped years ago . You suppose that it’s one of many ways that Feyd’s turned out differently from him, although not the most important. It’s not for nothing that even though you have no idea how he’ll turn out as a parent–yet another thing that scares you about this–he still won’t be as bad of a parental figure as his uncle.

He looks at you for a moment and you realize that you haven’t spoken and have just enough sense to realize that giving a simpering compliment about his looks will come across as not only disingenuous but suspicious. “My apologies,” you admit. “I was just thinking about what expectations will be placed on our children.”

“Our son, although we’ll need more than one, will embody all Harkonnen core values: power, ambition, resilience, intellect. I’ll accept no less and neither will anyone else on Geidi Prime,” he says. How long has he been thinking about fatherhood, you wonder? Or is he repeating what he’s been told time and time again what the Baron wants out of him?

“And if one of our children is a daughter?” you ask, hoping that doesn’t happen. It’s bad enough to be a man on this planet.

“She’ll be expected to be gracious, discreet, and always careful and cognizant of her surroundings,” Feyd says. “She’ll be composed even under pressure and adaptable.”

You try to absorb this, wondering how much he thinks you fit that mold yourself and assuming that you come up short. “I thought the first word you were going to say was fertile ,” you tell him.

“That goes without saying,” he says. “It’ll be her greatest contribution to the family to add to its lineage.”

I think you just described my responsibilities and expectations here, you think as he escorts you to the relaxation chambers.

Before he leaves he gives you a brief kiss–a little reward, perhaps, for minding yourself. “You’re learning,” is all he says.

You’d expected the rooms to have the same austere black and gray background as the Dining Halls, the Throne Room, even the bedrooms, but whatever materials used for the doors and panels emulate the colors and patterns of cedar even though you doubt it’s real wood and the textured walls are painted a warm, pale cream. It feels like a different environment entirely, reminiscent of the women’s bathhouses on your home planet. The attendant inside recognizes you immediately, although you assume that it’s hardly a challenge. “ You can’t mistake the Na-Baroness ,” you’re sure servants tell each other, “ she’s the only one in this Fortress with hair. ”

Most of the attendants are women, and again most of them seem young, hardly more than girls.

“Welcome, Na-Baroness. We do so hope that you enjoy our accommodations,” the first attendant says, her head in a respectful decline as she curtsies. “How may we be of service today?”

When you tell her that you were hoping for a simple massage because your joints have been feeling stiff she reacts as though you’ve told her that all your bones have shattered.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been in discomfort, Na-Baroness,” she says. “We’ll make sure to ease all aches and pains.”

As she guides you away and towards a private room you sense people looking at you and notice a couple of higher-ranking women in dressing robes, undoubtedly here for a bit of relaxation themselves. As soon as you look over at them, they glance away, pretending that they’re looking off into the distance. You want to stop, walk over, and introduce yourself to them ( they know who you are, though. Everyone knows that the Na-Baron just married an arranged non-Harkonnen bride from another planet ) but you don’t get the chance. Instead you tear your gaze away to follow the attendant to another room with what you must assume is a synthetic material that effectively mimics the appearance and grain pattern of wood, complete with a changing station, a table with oils and towels, and in the middle a covered massage table with a servant on either side who bow as soon as you enter.

It’s an interesting experience, to be sure. The servants attending to you are quiet and gracious, but you’re made starkly aware again of your foreignness.

Your hair confuses them, for one thing. They look at and touch it as if they’re not sure whether or not they think it’s attractive when you've spent your entire life before Geidi Prime being told that it’s beautiful. They’re gentle with you, careful when undressing you and guiding you to a massage table. When kneading oil into your sore muscles they treat you as if you’re delicate, even though they’re smaller than you are. They work silently, your own muffled moans when they work out a particularly sore spot the only sounds other than the ambient mist coming from the next room.

You wonder at first if it’s because they only speak Harkonnen and not the Imperial Standard, but as they’re getting finished one of the young women–probably not much older than you, although it’s still difficult to tell without any hair or eyebrows to better indicate her age–timidly asks, “Would the Na-Baroness like to be given stimulation as part of her massage?”

You blink, not sure you heard correctly, and raise yourself up on your elbows. “Stimulation?” you repeat, brow furrowing.

“Some people enjoy other kinds of massage as a form of relief, Na-Baroness. We’d be honored to indulge you if you prefer,” she says, looking down the moment you look up.

I’m still lost , you almost tell her before it sinks in. “Oh!” you say, the single word slipping out. The woman flinches, undoubtedly worried that she’s offended you. It’s probably why she hasn’t said a word this entire time; she has no idea how to talk to you, what you would consider appropriate or not, and would rather not speak at all than risk saying the wrong thing. You gape for a moment before managing, “No thank you. A-a normal massage is plenty.”

She bows. “Very well, Na-Baroness. Is there anything else we can do in service to you?”

You’d been curious about the other rooms but suddenly you wish for nothing more than to leave. “No thank you, not today. The massage was all I needed.”

“It was our pleasure, Na-Baroness. We are at your disposal,” the woman says, words you’ve already heard multiple times. “Let us help you redress.”

They gently wipe off any excess oil with damp washcloths and dry you off before guiding you back into your clothes as if scared they’ll hurt you, or rather, scared that you’ll say something that gets them in trouble. Even a foreign woman commands fear if she’s married to the right Harkonnen, even if she’s never going to be a true Harkonnen herself and whether they’re scared of you because of who you’re married to or also because of who you are, it makes no difference.

In spite of everything, when you get back to your quarters you realize that physically, you feel great ; better than you have since your wedding. You feel pliant and loose-limbed, your skin soft and supple. In theory it should give you all the energy you need to continue your studies of this planet and its language.

But your self-imposed Harkonnen lessons aren’t holding your attention; the grammar structure is fairly simple, and you’ve learned a few basic words and phrases (and obscenities, because you’re pretty sure that that’s most of what Feyd-Rautha grunts in your ear when he’s fucking you) and you can’t help your restlessness as you settle back in your chair.

You tap your fingertips against your desk, mind wandering to your husband, your body remembering with a throb how he feels inside you. You’re getting used to it more and more, for the most part even learning to enjoy it.

He might be coming back from his second training session soon. Maybe he’s already come back and is taking his second shower or bath of the day. Maybe you’ll ask him about his armoire, which he hasn’t opened for you since that first night, but, and you pause, thinking it over, picturing him sweaty from his training, and think, no. The armoire can wait. If you want to improve your seduction game, you can start by being the one to initiate your encounters. You can start now.

You strip again, wondering how he’ll react to you entering his chambers. Hopefully amenable to it; he probably won’t dismiss you if you come to him like this. If nothing else he has an incentive to put a baby in you, you think as you wrap yourself up in one of your robes and pad over to your bathroom.

You press your ear to the door joining your bathroom to his. The water’s running: he must be showering. You wait, heart pounding, thinking, It will be fine. Think about this morning; he seemed reasonably happy with you this morning.

You shut your eyes for a moment, take a breath, and open the door.

He’s standing in the middle of his shower, his eyes on you from the moment you step inside. He turns the water off and watches you silently, eyes falling to your robe. He must be fully aware of the fact that you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Sorry to interrupt, husband,” you say, hoping that your intuition is correct. “I was just…” bored? Interested in your company? Curious about how else you decompress after training? You swallow, fiddling with the sash of your robe.

Feyd says nothing at first as he steps out of the shower and onto the soft mat on the black granite floor. Any words you have die before they can reach your lips as he steps in closer and the height difference between you feels vaster than it’s felt before.

His eyes flicker to your robe. “Take that off,” he says.

You look him in the eye, raising your chin slightly as you unfasten the sash around your waist and brush the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor, presenting yourself for him as naked as the day you were born. The two of you stand in silence for a moment; he’s dripping wet and you’re, well…you bite your lip and hesitate before reaching out, wrist turning as you wrap a hand around him. You feel awkward in the ensuing silence, brushing your thumb over the tip of him and glancing between his face and his cock, breath catching in your throat as you see the way his gaze darkens. You open your mouth to speak but find yourself at a loss for words.

It doesn’t occur to you that he might prefer this to any polished seduction or that he likes your nerves, your earnestness. That you've come to him as if yesterday never happened and like he's a whole intact man with no buried shame. He stiffens rapidly under your touch, silently daring you to keep fondling him. You wonder if it would be worth it to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth–you’ve done it once before as a preamble to the act itself and remember every detail and lesson of it vividly–when Feyd-Rautha starts walking you backwards, backwards, until you reach his bathroom wall and you drop your hand in surprise.

“I…” you start and he silences you with a kiss, gripping the back of your head and tilting your head up to meet him. Once he has you where he wants you, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands slide down your sides, over your hips and ass, coming to the backs of your legs, nudging you forward.

“C’mon,” he says, his rasp quiet but commanding in the echoes of his bathroom. You can’t help your nervous laugh as you hop up and he catches you, hands under your thighs that he quickly wraps around his hips, holding you in place as his cock brushes against your folds, your lower belly. It’s filled out and ready and you bite your lip as you think: how to maneuver…?

You glance back up at him and his expectant gaze. Come on, pet, he seems to tell you. You’re a clever little thing, you can figure it out, and so you grip his cock again and position it at your entrance, almost laughing at how two weeks ago you’d have been hard-pressed to know exactly where it is and how to properly penetrate it.

You gasp, head falling forward as you sink down onto him and cry out as he jerks his hips up, filling you the rest of the way. It’s always such a deep ache and stretch when he buries himself in you and you’re never quite given enough time to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving and it feels like he’s so deep in you that can hardly breathe. Every time he picks a new angle to fuck you in it almost shocks you how he seems to find another way to make as though there’s no part of your insides that he hasn’t touched, and you hold onto him, trying to rock back down on him, and finding you can only really cling to him. He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair and the tonic you use for it, before pausing, shifting you further onto him, and moving away from the wall. You yelp, tightening your thighs around his waist and wondering what he’ll do next, where he’ll take you.

He carries you, then, out of the bathroom and to his bed where he drops you unceremoniously on your back and following you as you go. You both grunt as he lands on top of you and pushes your legs further back towards your chest and he braces his arms on either side of your head.

It’s hard and rough and fast, your knees pushed back nearly to your shoulders that he spreads wide to make room for his own. Your cries as he pounds into your open, vulnerable body spur him on and he drops his forehead to yours, panting against your mouth. He speaks in the Imperial Standard this time when he says, “Like a little songbird, making pretty noises for me,” and brings his mouth to the juncture of your neck and jaw.

You let out a whine as he continues, his tongue flickering and then lapping at the sensitive skin like he’s done before to your cunt. You gasp and readjust your grip on his shoulders, almost stunned at the visceral reactions he can pull from just that. You’d known it was a sensitive area, had been kissed there before, but especially juxtaposed against the pounding of him inside of you it’s–it’s–

“A -aaah! ” you manage, clenching around him, barely holding on, your legs shaking as he speeds up, his mouth continuing the onslaught. The whimpers that spill out of you escalate and turn to a sharp cry as he bares his teeth and bites down.

He grunts, hips pumping, as he comes inside of you, his teeth and lips on the sensitive skin of your neck and your arms wrapped around him. He gives one final thrust for good measure before dropping his head to your neck, his breath harsh. You hold onto him for a moment as he pauses and pulls out.

Will you let me hold you again? I liked that. I liked when you rested on me and I got to pet you as if you could ever be made docile . You don’t ask, and don’t know how to. He rolls over onto his back.

“I trust that training went well, husband?” you ask instead after you catch your breath and start to come down.

He grunts an affirmative and for a moment you think that’s the end of it. He takes a breath, though, mulling over the silence between the two of you. You wait, sensing his realization that you’d like to hear more. That the two of you can have a normal conversation like a normal married couple. “Sparred with a few of my men, then a couple of criminals in the dungeons. They don’t provide as much of a challenge but it still keeps me alert to practice on someone who actually wants to kill me.”

“They weren’t sedated?” you ask.

He shakes his head, exhaling. “Not these ones. Didn’t want to contaminate their bloodstream,” he says.

You think back to over a week ago, and something Idrisa told you. “So you could safely feed them to your Darlings afterwards?” you ask.

He turns his head to you and you do the same, mirroring him. His full lips part as he mulls your words over. “Now where’d you hear about them?” he asks, clearly trying to think back to a time when he’s mentioned them to you and coming up with nothing.

“Idrisa,” you add when you don’t see any recognition in his eyes at the name, “my personal attendant, mentioned that you had pets that you fed human remains.”

This piques his interest, it seems. He rises up on one elbow, turning to his side, leaning over you. “How did she describe them?” he asks.

You shrug, not sure how that makes a difference. “She didn’t. She just said that you feed human flesh to what you called your Darlings,” you say, not bothering to hide your distaste. You’re not going to pretend to like or condone everything he does; not like it would stop him.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes glint. He breaks into a smile that is equal parts delighted and cruel. “Is that really all she told you?” he says. He doesn’t move a millimeter, but you can sense his growing excitement coiled tight within him like he’s ready to pounce.

“So…what are they? Canine or feline? Or aquatic?” you ask, not sure if you want to know or get a more specific image but asking all the same.

Feyd-Rautha looks at you as though you’ve given him the greatest gift he didn’t even have to ask for. “Would you like to meet them?” he asks instead of answering your question.

No, of course not , you want to tell him. I have no interest in meeting a bunch of animals who devour people whole . “Sure. Why not,” you say.

His black teeth and gums are unnerving against the pallor of the rest of him before his smile turns closed-mouthed again into a smirk.

When you’ve both dressed and left his chambers, you assume that he’s going to lead you to a dungeon, but he instead starts walking down a corridor not far from the private wing.

“I’d keep them closer,” he says over his shoulder, “but they make such a mess.”

So a pool or a moat would be out of the question, but a shark tank is still feasible , you think.

He reaches a door, and the first moment you step inside and see what’s on the padded platform in front of you, you want to roll your eyes and walk back out.

So he’s taken me on a detour first to meet his concubines , you think.

Three naked, lithe, bald-headed women lie curled up sleeping, nestled against one another like a pile of kittens. You raise your eyebrows, letting out an irritated huff. You should’ve known that he keeps concubines; most leaders from Major Houses do. It’s just that he’d seemed so preoccupied with you that you’d almost forgotten that very possibility. These are the women he normally slakes his lust with and what he’ll go back to once you’ve confirmed that you’re carrying his seed. You have a snide remark on the tip of your tongue about how nice it is to meet the other women he fucks.

But then you notice that there’s blood drying on their hands, caking their sharp-nailed fingertips and you realize what the smell of the iron tang that permeated the air really is. Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s going on?” you say aloud to no answer.

The women stir, and then they open their eyes. They have neither pupils nor irises. Pure ink black, stares, unthinking, back at you.

When you first met him you’d been quick to assume that Feyd-Rautha lacked all humanity beyond his physical form, but this is what it truly looks like when a person has no human essence. You’re not sure what they’re seeing when they look at you but they perceive nothing except the sight of warm meat.

Abomination! Abomination! you think, too frozen to scream it out loud, the sound of it only coming out of you in a pitiful squeak when they start to move, clambering towards you.

Oh, Great Mother, they move like animals, on all fours . One of them opens her mouth, teeth and gums as black as her master’s but her teeth are sharpened into fangs she bares in what may be a smile, may be a snarl.

Oh, fuck this.

You turn and start to run when Feyd-Rautha holds his arm out to grab you around the chest and pull you to his side as he says something in Harkonnen that you try to grasp.

Something-something woman something-something food. Okay, that was a negation. He’s saying something like “she’s not food.” You gasp and dig your nails into his forearm, unable to look away from them, the way they tilt their heads at you.

You can hear them hiss and chatter, put out that he hasn’t presented them with a meal, and you realize that they’re speaking in neither the Imperial Standard nor Harkonnen battle-language but a vague imitation of human speech.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? ” you say aloud, struggling in Feyd-Rautha’s grip, watching as they scurry closer to the two of you, sniffing at you in particular.

You stare at the fathomless depths of their unblinking black eyes and how they tilt their heads, even their curiosity utterly fucking terrifying.

“You said you wanted to meet my Darlings,” Feyd-Rautha says in a satisfied tone. “Don’t be rude. They like you.” He says something in Harkonnen to the women that you can’t decipher, and their chattering ceases and demurs into near-purring.

One of them sniffs and nuzzles at your stomach and you flinch, wondering how quick she’d be to open her mouth and take a bite of your sensitive skin if her master allowed it. Your stomach that within a few months will swell with Feyd-Rautha’s heir. Does she understand what any of that means? Do any of them?

How naive you were, thinking that he kept animals as his pets, normal women as his concubines. How silly and childish to think that he wouldn’t be as much of a degenerate as you feared.

Just when I think I’ve adjusted to this insane planet I see something even worse.

Feyd-Rautha closes the door and directs his gaze up and down the length of your body, the tremors in your hands, your entire body shaking, in fact, and settles on your face. He says nothing, waits for you to go first.

“What…” you bring a hand to your forehead, hoping that this is a nightmare, “ are they?”

He doesn’t smirk but you can sense his satisfaction. He undoubtedly gets some entertainment out of each time he gets to introduce someone new to his Darlings, or rather, inflict his Darlings on them. He probably doesn’t get the opportunity as often as he’d like. “They’re a Bene Tleilax experiment,” he says. “They thought we might enjoy them.”

“Why would they…” commit a crime against nature like this?

“Because they can,” he says.

“Then why have them?” you ask.

He looks at you as if you’re the unreasonable one. “They already exist, and I’ve found some use for them.”

As his concubines . “So you…” you feel nauseous at the idea, barely able to say it aloud, “...fuck them?”

Your shoulders sag with relief when you he says, “No, I don’t fuck them, Y/N. They’re nice to look at but it would be akin to fucking a wild animal. They can be entertaining, though. And they’re a decent tool for intimidation.”

Entertaining . You could use hundreds of words to describe what you just saw and the wretched nature of their existence and entertaining would not be one of them.

Still, you realize what he means. His menagerie needs to eat to stay alive, and it provides incentive to stay on the Na-Baron’s good side. No one wants to end up as food. And how many men can honestly say, “ If you don’t do as I say I’m going to feed you to the trio of feral cannibal women I keep in my Fortress” ? It’s a far more unique and memorable threat than any you’ve heard.

So they’re not his concubines; you don’t believe for one moment that he’d care enough to lie to you about that, which just makes you wonder where his real concubines are. “Who were you fucking before I was assigned to you? I wasn’t your first.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips quirk up for a moment in a brief almost-smile. “There are times when people see me in the arena and want to know if I’m as much of a brute as I seem,” he says.

“Are you? With them?” You haven’t forgotten that he’s expected to be better-behaved with you than he probably would be with someone else. Someone potentially disposable.

His expression is carefully neutral as he seems to think on how much he wants to frighten you some more or how much he’ll let your own imagination do the work. “I give them what they’re looking for,” he says after a moment.

You glance back over at the door. How many people whisper about his trio of naked women the way they keep their head down about the Baron? Does that not bother him, how people who know about this undoubtedly think, If he’s willing to stick his cock into them , what else is he capable of?

“You do know that calling them your Darlings, having them naked like this–it makes it seem like you have sex with them,” you tell him.

Feyd-Rautha looks unsurprised and unmoved. “They can be sedated into being dressed sometimes. It’s just too cumbersome to try and change them every day,” he says. “Besides, people can think what they want,” he says. “I don’t care, just as long as they fear my name.”

Very Harkonnen of you , you think. “What are their names?” you ask instead.

He seems amused by the question. “Didn’t bother. They don’t need them,” he says.

You look back at the door. They can’t always have been like this, could they? “Did they not have names once? Before…this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “They won’t remember.”

You can’t help but stare at him when he says that. These were people once , you don’t need to tell him because he doesn’t care. You don’t know what to say to him; the words dry up in your throat. Here you were trying to bring out the human side to him when you get a stark reminder that for many people that side of him doesn’t exist. You try to remember how the Reverend Mother assured you that he has weaknesses that you can use, just like any other man. How he has his own, albeit twisted, moral code and sense of honor.

Count yourself lucky that it extends to you, you think.

You don’t like yourself very much when you think about it, the palpable fear he instills in everyone he thinks he can readily discard, and the fact that you’ve already decided that you’ll do your best to overlook it, for now anyways. You have yourself and your future child to look after first.

#dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd x you #austin butler

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