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softsan · 2 years ago

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Eyes On Fire. (Pt. 4)

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen & Fem!Reader

CHAPTERS: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

WORD COUNT: 3389

GENRE: Alternatively Universes/Canon Divergence, Alternative Ending, The Greens Win, Loosely based on the books/show, Made up House,

DESCRIPTION: After the Greens win the Dance of The Dragons, you a left alone navigating the dangers and woes of Kings Landing. You were one of the last survivors of House Vermillion with the expectation to restore your House to its former glory. Pressured to find yourself a husband, you unintentionally catch the eye of the dangerously, one-eye kingslayer—how will you ever survive amidst those who kill, those who take, and those who wish to eat you alive? Can also be read on AO3 here.

WARNINGS: Bodily Injury, Death, Graphic violence, Torture, Suspicion, Attempted murder, Murder, Poisoning, Possessive themes, Aemond in general

OPTIONAL PLAYLIST: Don’t Fear the Reaper by Denmark + Winter, When You Break by Bear’s Den, Hold On by Brooke Annibale,

Darkness clung to the four walls that kept you contained. The repugnant smell of rot was profuse, while the stone ground was covered in a thick layer of grime.

You had been held prisoner since the day after the tourney, ambushed the morning after whilst walking the Street of Flour, a famous street for its many twists and bends as well as its countless bakeries and dessert stalls. Two cloaked thugs had roughly manhandled you before throwing you into their carriage and speeding away.

You had verily considered, fending them off, breaking an arm or two, and continuing your day as if nothing had transpired but ultimately you decided not to.

It sort to reason that someone had their grievances with you, most likely due to Aemond's recent antic of crowning you the Queen of Love and Beauty. Therefore, you chose to play along. To unearth the question of who? You wouldn’t reveal your hand nor let on that you knew how to fight. You wouldn't risk such notions being spread by the wordlessly prying eyes of the city folk. For months you had tirelessly built an image of fragility and innocence. An image you intended to keep utilizing until you could successfully fulfill your duty to your House.

The dank and dingy vault below the castle was void of sunlight. The only light source available came from the dull lantern, its transparent case protecting the faint flame from blowing out. Beside it stood a short wooden frame that they’d dubbed ‘the bed of tortures’. You were bent over the frame, ropes restraining your wrists behind your back. The twisted strips of hide gnawed at your skin, leaving cuts and burns behind. Exasperated, you blew the mattered strands of hair away from your face, your eyes trained on Lord Unwin Peake who sat on the opposite side of the cell observing how the interrogation progressed.

“Let me ask again,” The foul-breathed servant of Lord Peake tormented, “What kind of relationship do you have with Aemond Targaryen?”

You near rolled your eyes, spent by the same handful of questions the servant had repeatedly asked. You grappled with yourself whether you ought to just tear off the restraints you had managed to loosen over time and stab the servant with the knife you had hidden in the pockets of your undergarments.

Your limbs ached, your stomach famished and most pressingly your mind was bored. You had despised being held hostage during the war and the sentiment hadn’t since changed.

“I guess one can’t go ahead with killing Lord Peake’s servant without inferring further consequences for one’s self,” Your mumble was inaudible, neither Peake nor his servant catching what you had said.

The servant sneered, “What was that? Speak louder girl!” He chastised.

You said nothing, your lip curling in defiance.

It appeared you had made a powerful enemy out of Lord Unwin Peake, the hand to the king. Aemond’s declaration and favor towards you during the joust had foiled Lord Peake’s plans to propel his daughter, Myrielle Peake into Aemond’s arms (and eventually bind the two with marriage). You huffed. Your intentions were never to be thrust between such political affairs, your initial plans were but to attract a wealthy Lord to marry and to save your House. However, after being held captive for days, you were feeling particularly spiteful... Perhaps you would change those plans, perhaps you'd begin to embark on the dangerous political game you'd thus far avoided. A new plan, with a new goal—one which involved the Targaryen Prince after all.

“The relationship between Prince Aemond and I?” You toyed, prolonging your eye contact, “Would you care to hear that we’re close? Or would it make you feel safer if I said we weren’t?”

Lord Unwin Peake’s face soured, comprehending the underlying threat of your words. The conveyance was that if Aemond indeed considered you more than a plaything, more than a pastime then Lord Peake would be faced with the Prince’s unrelenting wrath.

A thick silence lingered as Lord Peake thought through his options.

“From this moment on you shall stay away from the Prince,” He calmly rose from his chair, dusting his trousers, “If you care for that life of yours, I’d advise you not meddle where you ought not to.” He then nudged his head toward one of the instruments that hung to the wall, “Finish off her punishment.” He ordered.

“It’d be my pleasure, my Lord,” The servant eagerly bowed.

You heard the crack of a whip, the distinctive sound of leather.

Lord Peake stopped before the cell’s exit, turning aback, “Her face is to remain untouched,” He soon left, the cold metal bars slamming loudly behind him.

The whip came lashing at your calves. You squeezed your eyes tight, balling your fists until your fingernails dug into your palms. A flurry of curses were stuck to your tongue as you tried to drown out the pain by thinking of happier thoughts, such as taking your sweet revenge and plunging your knife into the servant’s chest.

You felt the warmth of your blood streak down your legs and feet, a puddle of scarlet pooling on the ground below.

A manic laughter echoed throughout the dungeons, “Scream for me,” He sadistically urged.

You gritted your teeth. You wouldn’t oblige. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. You held in any sound, swearing to yourself you’d inflict a pain tenfold worse onto both Lord Peake and his servant.

The fire burned, its flames licking the wood of the balsam fireplace in Helena’s study. Aemond was lent against the fireplace, absently watching Maelor play with his toys. The young boy roared aloud as he pretended his dragon carved from birch burned down the stick figures of men.

Helena had neglected her book, her violet eyes fixated on her brother. She was curious about what had brought on Aemond’s recent behavior. Aemond was not known to listen to just anyone… Even their dear mother struggled to put him in his place. Yet, during the joust he’d immediately caved to your demand, stopping just as you’d asked.

Helena knew this displeased her mother greatly. Aemond was handful enough for her to restrain but to have him now obey another? It threatened all she’d thus worked for, all she’d done to ensure Aemond wouldn’t rise up against Aegon and seize his brother’s crown.

Gaomagon ao hae zirȳla? Do you like her? Helena’s dreamlike voice inquired.

Qilōni? Who? Aemond grumbled, well aware of whom his sister was referring to.

Se riña lēda mele laesi. The lady with crimson eyes.

Before Aemond could answer, his mother Alicent came sauntering into the study, Ser Criston Cole following shortly behind.

Alicent's neck was flushed, her expression clearly vexed, “What do you think you’re doing?” She bellowed, the volume of her voice startling young Maelor.

Helena quickly attended to the boy, picking up Maelor as he began to wail.

“What does it matter?” Aemond countered, his arms firmly crossed against his chest.

“What does it matter?!" Alicent exclaimed, “It matter so, you’ve crowned a maiden from a lower House. A House insignificant in comparison to the great Houses we are hosting during the tourney.” She flailed her arms, “Great Houses we intend to forge allyship with.”

“House Vermillion wasn’t always insignificant,” Helena softly corrected, “Despite, their small fleets they were unmatched in naval warfare. Their vessels were painted red as their sigil, their cargo carried a myriad of hibiscus’ which they threw into the sea to bribe the gods for their victories—”

"House Vermillion was a House which supported Rhaenyra’s false claim to the Iron Throne," The Dowager Queen Alicent cut off her daughter, her eyes narrowing, “A House which should have been wiped out completely.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched at his mother’s last sentiment, “A House, like many others Aegon pardoned,” He sternly rebutted, “An idea you proposed would unite the Seven Kingdoms.”

Alicent's bottom lip trembled, taken aback by Aemond's retort.

“If that’s all mother, I’ll excuse myself.” Aemond’s heavy boots stomped, the door slamming behind him as he left Helena’s study.

“I cannot believe it,” Alicent bespoke to Ser Criston Cole, “Of all the noble ladies in King's Landing why her?” She shook her head in objection.

“Perhaps, it is but a fleeting affection that will die when the controversy and excitement begins to wane.” Ser Criston offered.

Alicent peered upward, still riddled with doubt, “Do you truly think so?”

Ser Criston Cole opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Helena.

“Hair of silver. Eyes of crimson. Footsteps in a set of three,” Helena’s eyes glossed over, as she faded into a trance.

Alicent and Ser Criston exchanged looks, Alicent quickly bending down beside her daughter. She gently took Maelor off his mother’s lap, offering him to Ser Criston to hold while Alicent tried to regain Helena’s attention.

“What do you see?” Alicent had long learned to heed her daughter’s words, to pay mind to Helena’s prophecies, as frequent to none, they near always came to tuition.

“A mother’s beauty. A father’s temperament. All is sound, all is as it ought to be.” Helena finished her train of thought.

The Dowager Queen Alicent’s face hardened. What possibly did the gods have in store for her son Aemond?

“Keep an eye on Lady Y/N Vermillion,” She instructed Ser Criston Cole, “And report back to me. I want to know whom she interacts with, her goals, and her every intention.”

The midmorning offered your deprived and cold self a yearned warmth and solace. The sun's golden rays filtered themselves through the stained-glass windows, reflecting a merriment of colors on the ground beneath your bloody feet. Without assistance, you had managed to crawl up the stairs of the dungeons, trekking a trail of blood behind you.

Your torture had been drawn out the length of the night, Lord Unwin Peake's servant only leaving after the seventh hour. You couldn't discern how long you had stayed laying motionless on the bed of tortures, staring at the unlocked door to your cell. After what felt like an eternity, you dragged your rigid body off, your calves protesting as you forced yourself to stand.

The pain, however, grew too great, causing your vision to blur, and your head to spin. You stumbled, your knees buckling from underneath. You placed a hand on the wall beside you, stopping yourself from faceplanting into the tiles. Days without food and water had finally taken their toll and you hadn’t the energy to continue.

“Lady Y/N Vermillion!” A surprised voice called aloud.

You felt their hands immediately rope around your hips, in an attempt to keep your torso upright. You blinked a couple of times, trying to determine who had found you.

“Ser Criston Cole?” You croaked, your cracked lips turning downward. Surely, you were mistaken.

“Yes, it is I,” He said softly, brushing back your wayward hair that draped over your face.

He observed the terrible state you were in, deducing it to be in result of what had transpired with Aemond during the joust. Others besides the Dowager Queen Alicent would consider you a threat to their political agendas and wouldn’t think twice about taking their frustrations out on you.

Ser Criston Cole’s eyes momentarily flickered toward the sound of footsteps in the distance, “Let me help you back to your room,” He whispered, sounding almost as if he pitied you.

Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly lifted you off the ground and cradled you against his steel-plated chest. You were too frail to argue, allowing him to carry you throughout the rest of the castle.

Ser Criston took an alternative route to your chambers, sensing the footsteps he’d heard, belonged to the prince. Over the past day or two, he'd had been discreetly watching Aemond from afar, noting the numerous times he’d tried knocking on your chambers only to be turned away by Lady Alyssa Royce. Ser Criston Cole was weary of the scene Aemond would surely cause if he saw you in such a state.

As Ser Criston reached your door, his knuckles thumped on the wood.

It was Lady Alyssa Royce who answered, “I’m afraid my Prince, Lady Y/N, still hasn’t returned—" She abruptly paused, sighting you limply lying in Ser Criston Cole's arms.

“Y/N?” Horror replaced her usual unemotive persona, “What happened to her?”

“Let us lay her down first,” Ser Criston bypassed Alyssa without a further explanation.

He quickly lifted the furs and delicately placed you down on the bedspread, “We have to roll her over.” He directed.

Lady Royce obliged without complaint, aiding Ser Criston to roll you onto your stomach. You muffled a cry, the sudden movement aggravating your open lesions. Blood continued to hemorrhage, spilling onto your white linen sheets.

Lady Royce's brows furrowed as she hastily lifted your skirt and removed your torn petticoat. She gasped, once the true extent of your wounds was revealed. The soles of your feet had been mercilessly slashed, whilst the irate lacerations to your calves had cut deep into the muscle.

“There are some gauzes and string in the cupboard,” Lady Royce demanded forgetting her station, “I’ll find us some alcohol to disinfect her wounds.”

“Shouldn’t we call for a maester?” Ser Criston Cole questioned.

You grabbed Lady Royce’s hand with haste, squeezing it with all the strength you could muster, “No,” Alyssa Royce said firmly, apprehending what you were trying to communicate, “Otherwise, Lady Clarice Osgrey will be summoned. Let us keep this between ourselves.”

Sir Criston reluctantly nodded, undecided if he’d pass on what had occurred to the Dowager Queen.

Aemond stalked the corridors, his irritability only increasing by the hour. Over a week had since passed, and you had missed the chaos that was brought by the melee, an event where forty or so riders armed with blunt weaponry, fought to be prized as the next knight. Aemond disinterested how the contest unfolded, drowned himself in drink instead.

You were avoiding him, or so he thought…

As the afternoons passed, he began to grow dubious. Suspicious, why all the other ladies beside you and Lady Royce were in attendance at the Targaryen festivities? He'd also taken note that Lady Myrielle Peake was now serving his niece Princess Jaehaera in your stead.

He reached the large oval door of your chambers, reaching of its handle. However, Lady Alyssa Royce opened the door first, her body blocking Aemond’s view of the inside.

“Where is Y/N?” He sternly imposed, “She has not been in attendance to melee nor has she served my niece.” He drew a maddened breath, “Princess Jaehaera has naught been impressed by her replacement.”

“I’m afraid Lady Y/N is still unwell your highness,” Lady Alyssa Royce politely bowed, her voice ever so slightly trembling.

You listened from inside, overhearing another of Lady Royce’s fumbling excuses. You and Alyssa had always been civil but far from close. Nonetheless, she had aided you, stitched up your wounds, and kept your injuries secret. You owed the girl a great debt, one you’d hope to someday repay.

You were running a fever, your insides hot, your outsides cold. You were sat against the headboard of your bed, leaning on some flat pillows while your legs were covered in furs. A small smile crossed your lips as you continue to listen. In truth, you were gladdened by Aemond’s concern. Thankful, for the countless times he’d implored for you. It wasn’t something you were accustomed to, the worriment, the exertion. Nobody had ever put so much effort in for you.

Aemond’s exasperation was obvert, he was growing tired of the evasiveness of Lady Royce, “Step aside,” He, at last, demanded, the intensity in his tone, making Lady Royce cower.

Your smile faltered, conceding Aemond was going to barge in. You hurriedly unraveled your legs from underneath your furs and forced yourself to stand upright.

You silently yowled, it was as if lightning had struck your legs. It took a few seconds for you to regain your breath, the agony that pulsated from your calves immense. You used the bedside table for support, wincing as you slid on your cloth slippers.

You had made the short distance to your vanity when Aemond furiously pushed back the doors to your chambers, his violet orb narrowing as searched around your room.

“Prince Aemond,” Short of breath, you did your best to bow.

Aemond’s annoyance dissolved instantaneously. Yet, the creases on his forehead remained. He swiftly approached his silvery hair bouncing behind him as he moved. You took a short moment to admire how his hair glistened underneath the yellowish candlelight, how it only enhanced his fearsome beauty.

Aemond abruptly stopped before you, his large hands unexpectedly cupping both of your cheeks, drawing your face closer to his. You involuntarily shivered, as his thumb brushed across your cold lips.

"What is it you are ailed with?" He searched your face, his brows knitted.

Aemond studied your sickly pale hue and the shade of blue that replaced the color of your lips. He felt a protectiveness over you. A feeling which was foreign to him.

“I’ll send for a maester immediately,”

“No,” You shook your head, his hands still firmly resting on your cheeks, “I have no desire to cause a fuss. All I need is some rest.”

Aemond didn’t feel assured, in fact, it only strengthened his worry.

“You’ve had a week’s worth of rest” He pressed “You should be seen by a maester. What if your sickness gets all the worse?” His hands slowly slid from your face and down your arms until he grasped your two hands within his own. Aemond held you so gingerly as if he was afraid you’d break.

Your stomach fluttered, recalling the change of your plans. Lord Unwin Peake desired you to stay away from the Prince… And you’d do nothing of the sort.

“I won’t get worse”

“You couldn’t possibly be sure.” His face close, his breath hot.

You stifled a smile. Boldly you closed the distance, using your nose to gently nudge his, “I am,” You insisted, pulling away.

Aemond’s eye widened, the violet of his iris deepening. He was overwhelmed by the impulse to pull you back but to capture your lips this time.

“Just a few more days of rest and I’ll be back to my true self,” You wriggled your hands free, “But first you must go,” You incited, softly pushing his chest to leave, “You’ve caused me enough trouble. If someone catches you in my chambers, I’d never hear the last of it.”

“What trouble? I only crowed the one deserving of the title of the Queen of Love and Beauty,” Aemond smiled smugly “And showed King's Landing of my intentions,” He playfully tilted his head, his hair falling off his shoulder, “And what a mistake it would be if others were to approach what is mine,” He whispered the last part.

“I repeat,” You light-heartedly shook your head, “Trouble.”

Aemond laughed, relenting and taking a step back, “I’ll go but if you feel worse, promise me you’ll summon a maester?”

“I promise,” You nodded, “My Prince you may take your leave,”

“Not until you are tucked soundly under the covers,” He directed, lifting an arm towards your bed.

“You won’t leave otherwise?” You swallowed, dreading the walk from your vanity back to your bed.

“Yes,” He maintained, “Do you need some help?”

“No need,” You vigorously shook your head, exchanging a daunted look with Lady Royce who had been loitering by the door.

You tried your darndest to ignore the heat that radiated upward with each excruciating step. You just needed to make it to the bed without falling, you told yourself.

Aemond followed you with his gaze, his body stiffening as he caught the stain of red on the hem of your nightgown.

“Y/N,” He said, his tone spine-chillingly cold.

You hadn’t the chance to turn completely round when he wrapped a steel arm around your waist and carefully lifted the cotton of your nightgown to expose your calves.

You sucked in a breath.

Aemond’s face darkened, while an enraged snarl left his mouth. His playful disposition vanished, a seething fury coming to take its place.

“Y/N,” He growled, his arms shaking uncontrollably, “Who dared to harm you?”

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segretecose · 2 years ago

Note

Top 5 paintings of Dante?

5. Domenico Petarlini, Dante in Exile (1860 circa)

Not the best depiction of Dante in my honest opinion – his face looks way off –, but I love how forlorn he looks. He just went on his depression walk, holding his little book, and picked this particular spot to sit and brood. He's not even looking at the see he's so sad. What is he thinking? Is he missing Florence? Is he regretting his parasocial relationship with the Holy Roman Emperor? We'll never know. What we do know, though, is that he looks sickening in his red skin-tight leggingsboots.

4. Annibale Gatti, Dante Receives News of His Exile (1850-1858)

He is once again brooding on some non-identified hill with his trusty book in hand, when some tween hikes up to his place of refuge and tells him he has to pack up and leave – actually, it looks like they have already packed up for him. And he is so sad. The saddest boy in Florence exile. He's probably thinking that he needs to find a stick to carry that bundle like a dejected little anthropomorphic cartoon squirrel.

3. Ary Scheffer, Dante and Virgil with Paolo and Francesca (1835)

The tale of Paolo and Francesca's tragic love is a bit much for little Dante, who swoons "away as if [he] had been dying" and falls "as a dead body falls." This one is pretty self-explanatory, really. He's just... laying there.

2. Gustave Doré, Dante and Virgil in the Ninth Circle of Hell (1861)

Doré is of course a veteran Dante illustrator and I think he gets the horror and tenderness of the Comedy like nobody else. In this one, everyone's favourite poetic duo is going through the Ninth Circle, where sinners guilty of treachery are condemned to spend eternity in a frozen lake where there is no light nor warmth. There are frozen heads and a lot of gnawing going on, but Dante is not letting go of Virgil. No ma'am. He's holding on to his man as he "accidentally" kicks Guelph traitor Bocca degli Abati in the head.

1. William Bouguereau, Dante and Virgil in Hell (1850)

Thee Dante and Virgil painting for me. They're in the 10th Bolgia of the Eighth Circle – there are imposters, falsifiers, counterfeiters, etc. running and clawing and biting, surrounded by filth and disease and hell demons. Dante is once again holding on to his guide Virgil, and he's looking very intently at Gianni Schicchi the imposter and Capocchio the alchemist who are going at it... very homoerotically... mh.

#ask #dante tag #art

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whirlybirbs · 5 years ago

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✪ —— 2. OF EVADING ARREST (AND OTHER FORCES)

summary: following the botched kidnapping of the supposed bride-to-be, you and the outlaw you come to know as arthur morgan are stuck wandering the woods along the dakota river trying to evade the o’driscolls. turns out your sister is not longer in van der linde custody.

word count: 3.8k

pairing: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader, turner as a placeholder last-name.

listen to: “trinity: titoli” by annibale e i cantori moderni

a/n: been a bit, hasn’t it? lovely gif done by @muse-of-nightmares as a part their rdr2 scenery series! thank you so much again for reaching out!

PREV. CHAPTER | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN | SPOTIFY

This isn’t good.

Arthur Morgan realizes, mid-plunge into the Dakota River, that he’d forgotten to ask if you knew how to swim.

Your shrieks on the way down, as the train roars by overhead, give him a pretty good indication of the answer.

(He’s not one to talk. His own screams echo off the rocky walls along the riverbank as the river rushes up to meet him.)

The outlaw hits the water with a hard splash and he hopes, off-handedly, that Sugarcube is alright. She’s a good horse, no doubt quick enough to outrun the iron steam engine. The feeling of the impact alone is like a hammerin gunshot to the chest — the river is freezing, spurring a startling amount of energy into him. Arthur breaks the surface of the water with a fish-like gasp, treading as the sudden current begins to sweep him down-stream. The riverbank flies by on either side of him.

Arthur suddenly feels a bit guilty about hurling you to your potential death.

With a sputtered groan, his eyes dart across the rapids as he tries to keep his head above water.

He sputters, eyes scanning the rapids wildly. “Where are you, lady?!”

“You — ergh! You idiot!”

There you are.

Oop. Gone again.

The panic in your chest is nothing akin to the weight of your skirts— they drag you down, head bobbing beneath the water, and you can’t help but think that this is the last way you saw today going.

Being strangled to death by your dress, beneath the rapids of the Dakota River? Well, that seemed much less plausible than being strangled to death by your own mother, especially considering the rather grand failure of this morning.

Hours earlier, you’d been bound by propriety and politeness to meet with the one Mr. Waylon Robbins... Not by your own volition, of course. Most things nowadays were never on your own accord. With the impending deal — a finely crafted strangulation of your freedom, orchestrated by your father and his greed — of your marriage, it’d been thought best to introduce the two soon-to-be-newlyweds to one another over a breakfast of eggs and biscuits and tea...

Well, Christ, you’ll take this over that anyday. A thousand times over.

Even still, drowning is the last way you’d thought you’d ever die. I mean, sure, Jenny had pushed you through a hole in the ice up at the lake one winter and as horrible as it was, you’d been hauled out by your father and lived. It was cold and horrible but it happened in a blink.

You’re beginning to realize, as you spot the impending rapids down the river, this is just the start.

And Arthur realizes, with an annoyed sense of moral responsibility, he can’t just let you drown. That would just be... unbecoming. And rude. And probably get him chewed out by the likes of Dutch and Hosea. And... I mean, that’s just bad business. You were still worth something, soggy or not.

And, so, he snags a log as he flies by the riverbank, carried by the current, and hauls himself towards you with it in tow.

You bob up finally, gasping for air as the outlaw’s hands find you. They pull you up, knotted in the back of your waist-coat — you claw at the sudden kick of the summer air as you break the surface, hands clinging to his vest as he yelps; your hands plant on his broad shoulders and you push him down in a rush to get your head above water. His blonde head disappears in a flash of limbs, and then reappears with a wet cough. His voice sounds like a deadly bark.

“Quit tryna drown me, woman!” he bites, “Grab on!”

The stray log is damp and soggy and nearly gives way when you grip it tight — but it manages to keep you both afloat; it gives you enough time to sweep the mess of hair that’s hanging in your face aside, catch your breath, count your lucky stars and give the outlaw beside you a look that could kill.

“I oughta kill you!” you seethe.

“Don’t make me regret savin’ you,” Arthur starts, voice rising as he raises his finger as his other arm grips the log tightly, “Do not —”

The sound of the approaching roar sends both your heads whipping to the rapids ahead.

“Just hold on!”

“What the hell do you think I’m doin’?!”

You both hit the rapids faster than you thought.

The ten foot plunge is fast and you both scream on the way down (though, Arthur will probably deny that fact until the day he dies) — right into the plumes of water roaring over the rocks at the high point of the river. Your grip is locked onto the driftwood as you sputter, spitting the water out of your face as you’re hit again and again with the rapids.

“This!” you bellow as you cough, “is all your fault!”

“I am aware!”

Another scream. Another drop, this time cracking the log in half and sending you both down separate trajectories. Arthur scrambles, trying to grab your log but a stray rapid clocks him in the side of the face and sends him reeling as you screech, clawing onto the oak limb for dear life.

It must be rather comical, to see two people clinging to logs as they ride through the rapids. The current is so fast it zips you by a family of deer — they remain undisturbed, raising their heads in question for a moment as you pass.

There’s a break in the rapids, then, water settling slowly as you try to catch your breath — only to be cut short by the outlaw’s panicked bellow:

“HOLD ON!”

Waterfalls.

Beautiful in photos, art, and from a viewing distance.

Terrifying when you’re plunging down one at a breakneck speed.

Luckily, the drop is short enough that you survive, plopping you unceremoniously into a shallow pool at the base of the Dakota. Your dress acts like a parachute and on impact, it nearly drowns you. Amidst the floating skirts, your struggle to tread your way to the surface.

Heaving, you haul yourself from the water and drag you and your skirts ashore — you must look like a drowned rat of sorts, plaits run loose and hair dangling in your face. Your dress weighs a metric ton, bogged down with water and various debris.

You collapse on the riverbank, breathless.

The outlaw follows shortly after.

He crawls onto the shore, braced up on his elbows. You watch, spotting the water running off the beginning of a beard along his chin. His hair, once a lighter blonde, has gone darker from the swim — strands hang in his face as he plants his forehead on his wrist and groans.

For a few moments, there’s silence.

Between the two of you, there’s just the roar of the river and the labored breaths of lungs aching from the pummel of the rapids.

Slowly, you sit up.

“Who th’ hell do you think you are, then?” you seeth, pushing the thick tendrils of hair from your face like a curtain parting a stage show, “Huh?”

You struggle with the weight of your dress. You don’t think you’ve ever been this soaked in your life. This dress... as if you hadn’t cared for it before. Prying at the high collar, you snap the top button off and rub at your neck.

“Right,” the cowboy drawls sarcastically, water dripping from his scowl — he hauls himself up from the dirt, hands pushing back his soaked blonde hair before he momentarily realizes his hat is gone. With a growl, he waves his hands as he speaks and looks around the riverbank, “Sure, lemme jus’ climb up on m’ horse an’ bring y’ right on back t’ ma and pa...”

For a moment, you’re stuck staring at the now maskless stranger before you. Up on the bridge, when he’d pulled that ink black bandana down from his face, you hadn’t gotten a good look at him. Now, you’re staring straight at the outlaw with a slack jaw, trying your best to ignore the blaring reality that he is very handsome.

“You were the one that threw us off a bridge!” you guffaw, throwing your hands as you voice splinters into a shriek.

“Oh, m’ sorry, lady, next time I’ll let y’ get flattened by a caboose. How’s that?”

He’s standing now, long legs carrying him towards the rocks by the shore. As you desperately try to wobble yourself to your feet and wring out what water you can from your dress, you hear him make a surprised snort before drawing out a quiet “there you are”.

When the cowboy stands to full height, he’s got his hat in his hands.

“You best take me back now.”

You spy the wrinkle of his nose as he drops the gamblers hat on his head — dark lashes narrow as his eyes are cast in the shadow of the brim. As he nears, you finally realize how big the outlaw is. He’s tall, and he’s broad. You can see the shape of muscles beneath the dark shirt sticking to him. He rips the bandana from his neck, moving to wring it out as he speaks. There is sun kissed skin there along his neck.

(A part of your brain stutters at the sight — the large rugged outlaw... Surely he’d be the subject of whispered chatter by ladies in parlors everywhere. Handsome, gruff, big... His type was certainly romanticized enough in those books of yours —)

“I could leave y’ here, all alone in th’ wilderness,” he says, tone biting back, “Or take yer high society behind t’ th’ nearest railroad station ‘n’ dump ya...”

He swats the banada against his leg before tying it around his neck once more. His finger darts into your face. He waggles it, emphasizing his point.

“But there’s one thing I ain’t gonna do,” he prods your shoulder, “An’ that’s take orders from some spoiled brat.”

When he pushes past you, you don’t move.

You... well, you’re tied between wanting nothing but to rear up and slap the man and wanting to run.

The running part... it’s not born out of fear. There’s a part of you that’s beginning to wonder how much of this grand plan was his... The outlaw before you certainly didn’t have to whisk you away from the firefight, nor haul you off a bridge to escape impending flattening. Even still, as he digs through his satchel by a nearby rock, you can spy the irritation set in his features. Not anger.

Even more so... running from everything that had happened this morning?

You wonder if your father will even worry.

If this man’s little gang of bandits thought they were gonna get money out of snatching you, well... So be it. You weren’t going to break the news to the outlaw before you until you were safe. Outta the woods.

... Was getting out of the woods even an option?

It’s gonna be a hike.

... Your dress is going to be a problem.

It was a problem this morning, then in the carriage and... Christ alive, it doesn’t even take a moment of consideration before you busy yourself with prying at the sogged woolen bodice at the top of your gown — you can feel that damn crinolette digging into your backside. No doubt the dress’ understructure has snapped... As you wobble in the mud and curse, you can feel the outlaw’s eyes on you.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

In response, you turn and whip the soggy black overcoat at his chest. It hits him square with a hardy slap. He sputters. You move on, digging beneath your petticoat and unceremoniously tearing the already ripped seam where the whalebone of the crinolette had poked through. The charcoal colored heap of a cage is kicked aside by your heeled boots.

Arthur is... well, looking away, but also stuck with a bit of shock on his usually sour expression. The material in his hands is heavy — and well embroidered. No doubt expensive. Your dress was fashionable, seemingly plucked from some Saint Denis mannequin in an attempt to impress. Yet, here you are, shedding it like a snake sheds its skin: with not a care in the world for keeping it.

The summer heat isn’t as bad now — the billowing white sleeves of your white chemise stick to your arms and your corset feels looser than before, but you’re considerably more comfortable in your two layers of petticoats and corset cover.

So, you hike your skirt up, step out of the mud, and begin to walk. Chin high, strides wide.

You spare the outlaw behind you a snarl.

“I am not a spoiled brat,” you say, moving along the sunny riverbank. You blink back at him, not hearing footsteps, and narrow your eyes. He’s standing there, still holding the bodice, “And that isn’t your size.”

He throws the bodice to the mud before cursing; there’s some satisfaction in that, at least.

“Where,” comes the frustrated growl as he throws his head back to the sky, “do you think yer goin’?”

“Downstream,” you throw your hands as you move to hike up the rocks and into the grass embankment overlooking the sandy riverbed, “Someone’s oughta have a farm around here —”

“Right, since you seem to be so well versed in the lay of the land...”

Suddenly there are two hands on your shoulders that abruptly turn you and steer you in the direction of the woods to your left. You snarl. Quickly, you yank your shoulders from his grip.

“Get yer hands off of me —”

“Lady, we ain’t goin’ downstream because th’ O’Driscolls are gonna be lookin’ fer y’ downstream.”

“Who th’ hell are you, again?” you can’t help but turn on your heel. Your words come out as hot as fire, accompanied by the ugly rearing of your own finger prodding his chest, “And remind me why I should listen to a damn thing you say?”

He swats your hand away and tightens his jaw. “Them O’Driscoll’s are bad news —”

“Yea, well you ain’t exactly peachy either, Mister...”

You wave your hand like a water mill, trying to coax the name out of him.

“Arthur,” he narrows his blue eyes sharply, “Arthur Morgan —”

Arthur. He looks like an Arthur. Certainly no Knight of the Roundtable but... Sturdy. Strong.

You drop both hands to your hips. “I didn’t ask for this, Mr. Morgan. Not to be snatched up and dropped in the middle of some Wild West fairytale — dueling gangs and... and wild horse chases...”

You scoff.

You wave your hands and begin to walk. Again.

There’s a gruff laugh behind you that shatters in a pained grumble of cursing. You begin to walk along the riverbank once more, ignoring his direction.

“I assure you, Miss Turner,” comes the biting remark, “This ain’t no fairytale — an’ them O’Driscolls aren’t gonna be as nice as m’bein’.”

“Surely. As you’re the picture of a modern gentleman, Mr. Morgan.”

God almighty, he... All Arthur can think of is of course this is what would come of a simple job the others put together. Of course he’d get stuck with some hoity-toity lil’ lady on the edge of the damn Heartlands. Of course, because when do jobs ever go wrong? Only when he’s there t’ clean them up, apparently.

“Yer testin’ my patience, lady.”

“Th’ feeling is mutual, then.”

“Stop walkin’.”

“No.”

“Yer gonna get us both killed —”

You swat at a bug on your neck and scowl. “I am sure.”

Suddenly, there’s something that loops around your back foot. A sharp tug sends you reeling towards the grass, and you blink down at the ankle of your boot to find it’s a rope — and attached to said rope is one smug looking cowboy.

The look of shock on your face is rather satisfying.

Arthur Morgan then flicks his wrist, managing to tangle your other ankle as you kick your leg.

“I told you,” he musters with a cock of the head, a bit too lighthearted for your liking, as he nears, “That I was bein’ nice...”

In a blink, there’s a loop of rope cast around your arms, halting you from reaching for your ankle. In a flurry of skirts, you wiggle — spitting incredulous curses all the while.

“My, my,” Arthur mutters and rounds your backside, the only sound besides his voice being the tinker of spurs, “What colorful language for a lady.”

He makes quick work of tying your wrists behind your back.

“Let me go.”

You can hear the smugness in his voice.

“I think not.”

He yanks, and the ropes get tight. Tight enough that you can’t move your arms. Tight enough that he helps you up with two hands under your arms before dusting off your shoulders with the smuggest of smiles, and tight enough that when he unceremoniously hauls you upwards and proceeds to throw you over his shoulder, all you can do is curse and wiggle like an earthworm freshly pried from the soil.

“You son of a bitch —”

“I’ve been called much worse,” he offers as he begins to walk towards the wooded area to the left of the river. The shade casts the pattern of the leaves along the back of his charcoal colored dress shirt, “By ladies much nastier than you, Miss. Might have t’ try harder if yer tryna hurt my feelings.”

You grunt, wincing as he readjusts you on his shoulder. His hand is rough on your leg, pinning the limbs in place as your struggle slowly decreases. It’s apparent he’s not going to let up, so you sag in defeat and grit your teeth.

“Where th’ hell are you taking us, then?” you bite, head turned to stare at the back of his head, “Gonna throw me off another bridge?”

“Keep that mouth a’ yours runnin’ an’ I might consider it.”

— ✪

He walks for a while.

Long enough for you to see the same tree three times over, and long enough that your hands have started to go numb from their spot behind your back.

You’re genuinely surprised the outlaw has managed to keep you slung over his shoulder as long as he has with nary a single complaint. It makes you wonder if being this brutish was simply his job within his little gang of ne’er-do-wells.

He passes that same rock — the one that looks like an upside down pony — and you heave a sigh.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

Arthur tries not to sound as sheepish as he feels.

The Heartlands are still new to him — it’s been a handful of weeks now that they’ve settled in... With Sean back, and the Micah licking his wounds from his brief stint in the Strawberry jail, this job was supposed to be one that could send them onto the next little pretty piece of land.

Still, Arthur hadn’t ventured this far West of Valentine for anything more than hunting once or twice with Charles. With the looming threat of the O’Driscolls sniffing about South of them, towards the grasslands and open streams... Well, Arthur was mostly trying to figure out what to do next.

Stealing some poor farmer’s horse was probably their best bet. Could get them outta harms way quick enough to dart back up to Horseshoe Overlook...

But with Miss Mouthy over his shoulder, there was no tellin’ she wouldn’t scream wolf the moment the shepherd was within sight.

Arthur huffs a sigh to match yours. Then, he hauls you up off his shoulder and places you gingerly on the ground. It’s a rather comical sight — you sit there, in the grass, glaring daggers into him as he perches himself on a nearby rock and digs out his satchel.

The waterlogged map in his hands flops sadly.

“Why didn’t you use that earlier, then, huh?”

“My hands,” he mutters, “were preoccupied.”

You watch him attempt once more to flip it up and watch it sag with the pulpy disappointment only river water can bring. Your brow quirks.

“Looks like it ain’t legible anyways.”

The ink has run all over the page.

You groan, dropping your head into your lap as best you can. Arthur bites his tongue, swallowing as he shoves the useless little bit of paper back into his satchel and taps his foot. You squint up at him in the afternoon sun, watching a glimmer of hot light flare around his hat like a halo.

“You at least got somethin’ t’ eat in there?”

“Snacks ain’t my biggest concern right now —”

Suddenly, there’s a snapping of twigs.

Both of your heads turn owlishly to the noise.

Arthur is fast to slip off the rock to his knees, his hand roughly seizing itself across your mouth as he presses a quick finger to his lips. Your eyes are wild, anger flashing in your gaze as you tear yourself from his grip. You stare incredulously at him before turning back to the wilderness and listen.

Arthur is quick to brandish his pistol, one hand balancing his low crough on the rock beside him. You watch as he peeks over the rock, only to curse tightly when he spies two O’Driscoll boys wandering —

“Why should I be quiet?”

It’s a whisper, but loud enough that Arthur lunges for you. You kick him in the shin, sending him groaning as he topples next to you in the grass; you roll onto your side, trying your best to wriggle away.

“You untie me now, I’ll be quiet,” you hiss when he hauls you back behind the rock, “If not, I’ll holler —”

“Shut up,” he reaches around, hauling you up against the rock and pinning you there with a hand over your mouth, “Shut up now an’ I’ll untie you —”

You are a damn minx.

Arthur is cursing you six ways to hell when the two near the rock...

“Listen, boss keeps tellin’ us that the girl is worth a lotta money —”

“Yeah, well, if th’ Van der Linde’s were after ‘er too ‘e must be right.”

“Awful lotta work for a ransom if y’ ask me,” mutters the other in an Irish lilt, “‘Specially since Colm is just gonna put a bullet between ‘er eyes once ‘e gets th’ money.”

Your eyes are wider than a mile, Arthur reasons. It’s fear, there. The first time he’s really seen it on your face since this all began... well, save from haulin’ you off the bridge before. Your eyes dart around, like you’re tryna make sense of what you’re hearing.

“We got th’ sister —”

“We find ‘er, it’s double the pay.”

Their voices begin to trail off. Slowly, the conversation drifts into the wind, and you realize the two men have disappeared from Arthur’s immediate sight.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Arthur slackens his grip on you, exhaling slightly before peeking over the rock once more. When he leans back down, he brandishes his knife from his boot.

He spins you around roughly.

The knife glints in the sunlight.

“You try anything funny, an’ I’ll throw y’ t’ those wolves myself.”

Christ, it feels good when he snaps the rope off from around your wrists.

“Who were they?” you ask, swallowing roughly as you rub the tender skin along your chemise’s lace sleeves; your voice wavers and you regret the way it sounds instantly, “The O’Driscolls?”

“You bet,” he mutters, bending to cut the rope from your ankles, “Like I said, they ain’t nice.”

“The Van der Linde’s, then?” you follow up with, voice leaning high into your curiosity, “That’s... well, you’re the ones who jumped our carriage.”

“S’ right.”

There’s a pause. You furrow your brow.

“They said they had m’ sister.”

Arthur squints down at you, watching worry sweep across your face like the rush of the oceans tide.

“... Seems so.”

And that isn’t good.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 reader insert #arthur morgan fanfic #simpler said aloud #wow a FORMATTED POST FROM ME?#WOOOOW #the effort #truly here i am BEING MY USUAL SELF LMAAOAO

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tortured-swiftie · 5 years ago

Text

@revouries sorry it took so long but here is my full list of song recs! Ps - it is loooooong

So I’m still very surprised anyone is even interested in this but its a really cool thing to share! This playlist has taken me close to a decade to create and I’ve been asked to share it with you all! Fair warning - heavy spoilers, and a lot is based on ship angst, don’t come for me. Also I have only read TDA twice and its been maybe a year since I did so I don’t remember everything perfectly. I had a lot more time with TMI because I read them for years and years. TID & TLH don’t really have soundtracks for me, because of the time period these modern songs really feel wrong when I read those series.

TMI :

Battle in Hotel Dumort in CoB -

- I’m So Sorry - Imagine Dragons

The pace of this song, the sinister notes, the danger it invokes just brings this scene alive. But also, this is the first time Clary feels like a Shadowhunter. She fights and its not terrible. She feels powerful instead of like a liability. Shes able to hold her own while talking to a clan of vampires. Its badass and fits the song.

Seelie Court kiss scene in CoA -

- The Violet Hour - The Civil Wars

Its such a beautifully haunting song, its sweet on the one hand but something wrong lies underneath it. It is so so perfect, because Clace is getting what they’ve wanted, but by hurting those around them. They get to give in for once, without the guilt attached, they have someone to blame for all this. But it ends on this very uneasy note, because it isnt right. So much of it is not right and Clace are not satisfied because it wasn’t a real kiss or real declaration of love

Jace and Clary after the meeting with the Seelie Queen in the Institute in CoA -

- Black Flies - Ben Howard

This is a very Jace song for me. Its quiet, peaceful, but the words are hurtful and honest. “No man is an island” fits him so perfectly at this time in his life where he feels abandoned by Valentine, abandoned by Mayrse, abandoned by literally everyone so he wants to make it worse by committing to Clary. She is so unsure of him because of the repercussions it would cause and he wants her in this moment because of the repercussions. He wants to isolate himself so he cant be hurt by those he loves.

Jace meets Valentine on the boat CoA -

- Silence Worth Breaking - Brooke Annibale

This is where Valentine really shows off how manipulative he is, and as a reader you start to believe how easy it would be to get around to his way of thinking. imo this is the best villain CC has written, because you find yourself agreeing with him sometimes and he makes it difficult to argue from a different perspective. The first time I read this scene I was convinced he was going to go with Valentine. The song is foreboding, it is anxious, and makes you think something bad is around the corner, which at this point in the book you feel like something bad is bound to happen

Simon is about to die on the back of Luke’s truck end of CoA-

- Wait - M83

This just perfectly conveys the grief and fear and guilt Clary feels when she thinks Simon is about to die. She brought him into this life, he turned into a vampire because of her, he was tortured by Valentine because of her and just as they saved him he is going to die. Its the loss of innocence and childhood for Clary. Simon is the last piece of it stripped away from her. First her mum, then her belief system in her whole world, then Luke, and now Simon. She is stripped all the way down to the bone of her identity and this scene is quick, but intense for this reason for me.

Clary and Jace meet up for lunch at the end of CoA -

- Distance - Christina Perri

This is such a sad song, and the sweetness of Christina Perri’s voice pairs beautifully in this scene with a feeling of a bittersweet kind of resigned acceptance. Clary had wanted so bad for Jace to let her go, she had convinced herself that her feelings weren’t that strong. And now here she is accepting her true feelings and ready to kind of wrap Jace around herself like a security blanket and he tells her exactly what she wanted to hear earlier. Except now she has to be a big girl and face her life without anyone holding her hand. She has to grow up and thats what makes this scene so sad, this is Clary realising its time to grow up.

Clary and Jace find Ithuriel in CoG -

- Goodbye Godric - Nathan Barr

This song was always ethereal and otherworldly, the notes are awe inspiring and convey this grief that is so abstract and not individualistic, it is beyond the human experience. Clary and Jace’s complete altruism and empathy in this scene matches with the grieving tones, how helpless they feel at this beautiful creatures pain, and how much they want to do something but they don’t know what. Then Ithuriel shows them visions and its even worse than they imagined. The misery that exists in these walls caused by Valentine, the waste of energy and life and soul is amplified by the music. The music soars as Ithuriel is set free, and the manor home crumbles.

Clary and Jace make out session outside the newly ruined Wayland Manor CoG -

- Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics

This wild abandon kissing perfectly matches the mood and pace of this song. Its all over the place, its messy, its confusing. Its giving into pure passion. Its abandoning any pretences they have built up and watching reality crash back down on them.

Isabelle wants Simon to distract her after Max dies in CoG -

- Not Everything Was Better In The Past - Fink

This is such a tenderly played song, and is easy on the ears, but there is a rawness there. Isabelle is completely stripped away, raw grief and anger and guilt eating away at her. When she lets Simon in she is ferocious and wants to show him her toughness. But Simon sees through it all to a scared young girl who is lost in this sea of grief. Its a sweet Sizzy moment

Jace telling Clary he loves her for the first time in CoG -

- Leave a Light On (ACOUSTIC) - Tom Walker

Jace shouldering the responsibility of finding Valentine by himself, essentially sacrificing himself to the cause, hes grief stricken, and yet feels barred from that grief. I know we experienced this scene from Clary’s POV but this song works so well from his POV. He wants to tell the girl he loves how he feels, he wants one night with her to feel normal and feel loved, and to pretend just for a little while that there is nothing wrong with that. This very stripped version of the song is much much much more raw, and that’s what Jace feels like in this scene, all the walls are down and he wants to show his real face to this one girl

Clary showing off her rune skills in the council chamber in CoG -

- I Found - Amber Run

This was the first scene I imagined from a filmmaking perspective, how to best present this scene. I imagined this entire scene from Jocelyn’s POV, frame by frame, as she walks into the council room very quietly and watches her baby walk up and address everyone in desperation, voice shaking but standing her ground. Grown, bigoted, adults judging her and are fearful but she is still showing them what she’s worth. I imagined Jocelyn’s entire world view shifting because she is in awe of this powerful girl Clary has become. She watches her daughter no longer as a little girl but as a formidable Shadowhunter that could handle the cards she had been dealt in life. Just a very transformative moment and pivotal in how we see Clary in the TSC universe

Lilith takes over Jace’s mind and disappears with Sebastian at the end of CoFA-

- I’ll Keep Coming - Low Roar

This song starts out so uneasy, it cant settle down, and that’s exactly how I feel when Jace sends Clary downstairs. I want to scream at her to stay, but knowing Lilith would always take over no matter what. Its a very dark moment, because no one wants to lose control of themselves and it must have been pretty scary at first. Its an anxious scene, paired with an anxious song

Magnus takes happy memories away in CoLS -

- Howl - Jake Houlsby

Magnus is looking very sad when he does this, especially what he says to Simon. Its such a knowing look, Magnus is no stranger to this kind of sorrow, but still to be witness to it over and over must take its toll. It just makes me think of the endless road stretching out ahead of him and how lonely and terrifying that must feel for him. Just a beautiful song to go with a sad moment in this scene

Clary at the Faerie club with Jace and Sebastian CoLS -

- Faded - Alan Walker

- Darkside - Alan Walker

At this point in the story you feel a lot like Clary is getting too comfortable and is maybe losing sight of the mission she’s on. These two songs are very club sounding to me, and tonally fits the mood of the chapter. Clary is quite literally lost in that moment with the Faerie drugs and the dancing and the atmosphere

Clary dancing with Sebastian CoLS -

- Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

First of all lyrically….it cannot get more perfect. “Go ahead and cry little girl nobody does it like you do, I know that you got daddy issues. And if you were my little girl, Id do whatever I could do…” it just conveys the creepiness of Sebastians interactions with Clary and how weird she felt when he was dancing with her and how wrong it felt. This is a very short moment in this chapter but it really creeped me out. And this song conveys perfectly this feeling of haziness of the Faerie drugs and this uneasiness that surrounds Sebastian

Simon drinks from Isabelle CoLS -

- Harvest Love - Tash Sultana

This is a pretty soulful, sensual song. And when Simon drinks from Isabelle and he describes the euphoria that comes with that, the description of how his nerves react to the fresh blood just remind me of the part in this song where the drums and music soars the highest (start around 3:32, and it reaches its peak around 4:48) its honestly one of the sexiest scenes CC has written, even including all the Jemma scenes

Magnus and Alec break up in CoLS -

- Evergreen - Ben Howard

First time reading this I was so so angry at Alec, and felt the sorrow and anger coming off Magnus. This song is very dark, and very sinister. Magnus completely misunderstood what Alec was trying to do, and applied the most sinister meaning to his actions. It is their perfect breakup song imo full of angst

Clary traps the Heavenly Fire into her sword in CoHF -

- Outro - M83

This is another scene I imagined cinematically. The first half of the song is where Clary slowly makes her way over to Jace and she suddenly has faith in herself that she can do this. Then we watch her take Jace’s hands as the radioactive wind sounds start and the flames are swirling around them but not touching them. Cut to Magnus and Luke seeing the colour on the horizon, and the flash that shows its over. Cut back to Clary drawing the Heavenly Fire into the sword as the music swells around her. The words are so so powerful, and they always felt very ethereal to me “I’m the King of my own land” This is Clary fully embracing her power and fully utilising it. Its no longer something separate from her, but she IS her power.

Clary killing Sebastian, pretty much a lot of the scenes before the time jump CoHF-

- Saturn (both acoustic and original version) - Sleeping At Last

This song is definitely an end of film/book / end of heroes journey material. Simon sacrificing himself so they can get back, Clary killing Sebastian and forgiving him, Clary scattering the ashes of Sebastian and finally grieving the past years trauma (all of the TMI journey), the Faeries being condemned by the Clave and Helen getting exiled. Its beautiful, its sad, its momentous, its not a regular song.

Alec finds Magnus in Edom in CoHF -

- I Of The Storm - Of Monsters and Men

The steady drum beat adds a sense of steadiness and calmness in this song. Its not a joyful getting back together but they’re both glad the other is alive and are both forgiving each other. For me, this is when I truly started shipping Malec. The growth, the strength of character begins from this moment. This is when they become a couple I love because this is when they commit to each other flaws and all

Isabelle introduces herself to Simon at the end of CoHF -

- Golden Dandelions - Barns Courtney

Isabelle has always felt like a full punch character, no half measures and all that. The feeling Simon describes when he first spots this beautiful girl walking directly up to him is how this song starts, for me at least. The drums, the barely contained excitement, the curiosity, and faint recognition. This song is a full punch song right from the get go and it felt like such a remarkable Isabelle moment

After Jocelyn & Luke’s wedding in COHF -

- From Gold - Novo Amor

It is such a bittersweet, and peaceful song. There are so many endings in this scene, and so many new beginnings. They are all grieving, one way or another, and are all allowing themselves to evolve. Their journey is over, and at the end of this book I had this sense of saying goodbye to these characters (retiring them so to speak) because I wasn’t sure how much they would be involved with the future of the TSC world. Im glad they are still a big part of it, but they will never be the main focus again.

TDA:

Julian and Emma dance in LM -

- Give Me Love - Ed Sheeran

The sexual tension, and the dread they both feel because of their feelings just makes this scene so dramatic to me, and this song softens it a little. Especially if you are re-reading the series you feel this tenderness because they so badly wanted to avoid falling in love

Mark and Kieran in the Hunt -

- Dance Me To The End of Love - The Civil Wars

This is a pretty offbeat quirky song, a little sad, a little wistful, a little mournful, sensual, but tones of wildly abandoning all you know and giving into baser desires. Whenever Mark thinks of his time with Kieran in the Hunt, his memories sound like this song. They experienced very high highs, and very low lows. They were degraded, the lowest you could possibly feel as a living creature. Yet they were riding into the night, sleeping under the stars in places only known to Faeries. There was no one watching them, and no one to stop them from being together. There is tenderness in their relationship, but also knowledge that they are only together because they have no one else. Its happiness without truly feeling like you have a choice about it. You have to be happy together because you cant find this happiness elsewhere. They are forced into being in love a little bit, because the alternative is so much worse. This is one of the reasons why I couldn’t ship them at first, because they hadnt really chosen each other. Only when they were presented with other options and they till chose each other did I start seeing their potential.

Julian and Emma on the beach LM -

- Next To You - Of Rust & Bone

This scene completely took me by surprise, and is very unlike CC because love scenes normally take place quite late into any series she has. This one was filled with anxiety, and tension because the characters quite literally fell into their feelings. There was no forethought, no sense of taking stock of what they were doing. And they ended up feeling such different things about it afterwards. So for me this songs darker moods perfectly pairs with this scene

Kieran and Mark argue/break up LM & LoS -

- Fade Away - Tom Walker

This song has such raw power, such dark emotion and anger and a sense of betrayal that it perfectly captures their emotionally charged scenes. Mark can never be the same Mark that belonged to Kieran when he had no one, because now he has his family. And Kieran is still the same man who has no one but Mark. I hated him the first time I read LM and most of LoS but their chemistry is hard to resist. Especially as they evolve as characters as well as a couple. They are wild and unmoored sometimes and there’s something exciting about characters you just cant pin down.

Emma & Jules’ strained relationship LM & LoS -

- 9 Crimes - Damian Rice

When Emma is “with” Mark there is this strange chemistry between her and Julian. Both have hurt each other at different times, but this was really like a stalemate. Neither could really move on, and both were angry at eachother. As more and more people found out/realised about the feelings they had were more than parabatai this tension grew. Because they’re not just falling in love, they are also actively choosing to hurt one another. They are certainly not an example of a healthy relationship but I felt in some way they were the realest. Because sometimes relationships hurt and sometimes you do things you have to do even if that isnt what’s best for your relationship. This song perfectly captures this push and pull they have, and how falling in love wasn’t blissful happiness for them. It was pain and secrets and hurting.

Annabel rising, killing Malcolm LoS -

- As It Was - Hozier

Since we’re watching this scene from above, a very unnatural and cinematic perspective, the scene feels unreal. Like it was a dream and didn’t happen. I felt genuine fear and uneasiness when Annabel is slowly brought back to life, skin growing over old bones. This song has notes that aren’t usually arranged together, instruments that are usually a bigger part of a quartet, and somehow that arrangement feels just a little wrong. It feels different, sinister, and uneasy. It feels like its missing several instruments, or some notes have been played incorrectly. Hozier’s voice is his best in this song, very strained, but so controlled, bringing forth very intense emotions

Christina and Mark at the revel LoS (I couldn’t remember if this was in LoS or QOAAD) -

- Now You’re Gone - Tom Walker & Zara Larsson

Christina really let herself go during this scene, and we see a completely different side to her. She is adventurous, risky, and she would make anyone say “fuck it lets do this” I always liked Christina but I always felt she was very predictable until this point. We see how intensely she is interested in Faeries, and how personally invested she is in their culture. She allows herself to be swept up, and embraces it rather than fears it. She honestly seems fearless here, and is the definition of temptation. She is quite literally tempting Mark, and its sexy a f

Jules & Emma burn down the church LoS -

- Esmeralda - Ben Howard

This was the first time their relationship excited me, because during this scene I fully expected they would go into full thirst mode but they didn’t. They were still very sensual and sexual and intense, but in a very very different way. There is something attractive about someone who’s willing to burn the world down, who has a little bit of an anarchist side. Its human nature to feel some attraction to these traits, and this scene definitely stirred feelings in me

Emma fights Fal LoS -

- Put It On Me - Matt Maeson

This song both tonally and in its pacing elevates this scene to new levels. Its not a typical battle song, it has a steady pace. But Emma’s description of how the battle is stripped down because of the rain, how she prefers this kind of fight where its her, her weapon and the elements. Its pure, and we get to see Emma in full fighter mode. She is an extension of Cortana, and they belong together. This is without a doubt my favourite fight scene to date. It just brings alive the visuals in such a dynamic way. Very storyboard-able.

Julian holding Livvy as she dies LoS -

- Losing Your Memory - Ryan Star

This song is harrowing, and its just pure pain, raw grief balled into one intense song. The lyrics just pull you into Julian’s mental state “wake up, its time, little girl, wake up” just kills me. As the music intensifies and the singer is practically screaming the lyrics it just feels like that’s what it must have been like inside of Julian’s mind. He wasn’t screaming out loud but his mind must have been very loud

Julian and Emma shower together QOAAD -

- Promise - Ben Howard

Julian dry heaving because he doesnt know how to cry. Fucking heartbreaking in a very quiet way. After the noise of loss, the quiet moments where you have to face grief is devastating. Emma being an anchor, holding him in place and trying to keep the world away from him so he doesnt hurt anymore is just harrowing. They’re just kids but the grief they feel is so adult. And when you lose someone like that, and someone is there for you that solidifies so much in that relationship. They become a part of something you can never let go of. Even if that relationship doesnt last, they will always be apart of that memory. And Emma sticking by him, despite the danger and promises they have made themselves is proof that she is the one for him

Kieran and Christina dance QOAAD -

- Senorita - Shawn Mendes & Camilla Cabello

This song is sensual, its sexual, its got hooks that quite literally sound like orgasms its such a playful song. When I read this scene this song popped in my head right away. When Christina is dancing with Mark its the same kind of feeling I got from her at the revel, except this time there is no supernatural influence, its just her and her feelings. It was a sexy scene, and when Kieran walks in we all expected something very different. What followed is what elevates this scene, Christina has no clue how to react to Kieran, and yet she is mesmerised by him. She dances with him in a way we would never have imagined her doing this in LM. It shows evolution of character, for all three of them. And the fact that Mark is watching, and he’s not angry just makes this scene even sexier. You can practically feel the sexual tension in the air coming off the pages of the book.

Malec wedding QOAAD -

- That Girl Is You - Dave Matthews Band

This song brings me so much peace, the kind of peace that comes with knowing someone for years, and relying on them, knowing they are a permanent fixture in your life. Its exciting, but in a quiet way. Its a very atypical wedding song, because of the unusual style of singing. But I think it represents Malec really well at this point in their journey, they have gotten over many obstacles, often themselves, in this relationship. Their entire world is changing, and they are taking massive steps and making some pretty big sacrifices as people for this cause. Being Consul isnt going to be a smooth life for Alec with Magnus as a husband and a warlock for a child. But this is what he wants, and this is what he wants Shadowhunters to reflect and be going forward. This song is a very peaceful time in the entirety of TSC, and gave me a similar feeling to the end of TMI

#tsc #song recs #tmi #the mortal instruments #tda #the dark artifices #cc #cassie clare #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles

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pope-francis-quotes · 6 years ago

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15th May >> (@ZenitEnglish By Virginia Forrester) #Pope Francis #PopeFrancis General Audience of #PopeFrancis: On the Our Father’s ‘Deliver Us From Evil’ (Full Text) ‘It’s the tempter who moves us and pushes us to evil, saying to us: ‘Do this, think this, go on that path’

General Audience: On the Our Father’s ‘Deliver Us From Evil’ (Full Text)

‘It’s the tempter who moves us and pushes us to evil, saying to us: ‘Do this, think this, go on that path’

This morning’s General Audience was held at 9:10 in St. Peter’s Square, where the Holy Father Francis met with groups of pilgrims and faithful from Italy and from all over the world.

Continuing with the series of catecheses on the “Our Father,” in his address in Italian the Pope focused his meditation on the theme: “But deliver us from evil” (Biblical passage: From the First Letter of the Apostle Saint Peter 5:6-9).

After summarizing his catechesis in several languages, the Holy Father expressed special greetings to groups of faithful present.

The General Audience ended with the singing of the Pater Noster and the Apostolic Blessing.

* * *

The Holy Father’s Catechesis

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

Here we have finally arrived at the seventh question of the “Our Father”: “But deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:13b).

With this expression, one who prays not only asks not to be abandoned in the time of temptation, but also implores to be freed from evil. The original Greek verb is very strong: it evokes the presence of the Evil One, which tends to grab us and bite us (Cf. 1 Peter 5:8) and from which one asks God to be liberated. The Apostle Peter says also that the Evil One, the devil, is around us like a roaring lion, to devour us, and we ask God to liberate us.

With this twofold supplication: “not to abandon us” and “to liberate us” an essential characteristic emerges of Christian prayer. Jesus teaches His friends to put the invocation to the Father before all, also and especially in moments in which the Evil One makes his menacing presence felt. In fact, Christian prayer doesn’t close the eyes on life. It’s a filial prayer and not an infantile prayer. It’s not so infatuated with God’s paternity as to forget that man’s path is fraught with difficulties. If the last verses of the “Our Father’ didn’t exist, how could sinners, the persecuted, the desperate, the dying pray? The last petition is precisely our petition when we will be at the limit, always.

There is an evil in our life, which is an incontestable presence. The history books are the desolating catalogue of how our existence in this world has often been a bankrupt adventure. There is a mysterious evil, which is certainly not God’s work, but which penetrates silently between history’s folds. Silent as the serpent that carries poison silently. In some moments, it seems to take over: on certain days its presence seems even clearer than that of God’s mercy.

A man of prayer isn’t blind, and he sees limpidly before his eyes this very cumbersome evil and so in contradiction with the mystery itself of God. He sees it in nature, in history, even in his own heart. Because there isn’t anyone in our midst who can say he is exempt from evil, or from not being at least tempted. All of us know what evil is; all of us know what temptation is; all of us have experienced temptation in our flesh, of whatever sin. However, it’s the tempter who moves us and pushes us to evil, saying to us: “do this, think this, go on that path.”

The last cry of the “Our Father” is lashed out against this evil <that torments one>, which has under its umbrella the most diverse experiences: man’s mourning, innocent pain, slavery, instrumentalization of the other, the cry of innocent children. All these events protests in man’s heart and become a voice in the last word of Jesus’ prayer.

It’s precisely in the accounts of the Passion that some expressions of the “Our Father” find their most striking echo. Jesus says: “Abba! Father, all things are possible to Thee; remove this cup from Me; yet not what I will, but what Thou wilt” (Mark 14:36). Jesus experiences wholly the piercing of evil, not only death but death on a cross; not only solitude but contempt <and> humiliation; not only malevolence but also cruelty, fury against Him. See what man is: a being devoted to life, who dreams of love and goodness, but who then exposes himself continually to evil and his fellow men, to the point that we can be tempted to despair of man.

Dear brothers and sisters, thus the “Our Father” is like a symphony that asks to be accomplished in each one of us. The Christian knows how subjugating the power of evil is and, at the same time, has the experience that Jesus, who never yielded to its blandishments, is in our side and comes to our aid.

Thus, Jesus’ prayer leaves us the most precious of heredities: the presence of the Son of God who has freed us from evil, fighting to convert it. In the hour of the final combat, He intimates to Peter to put back his sword in its sheath; to the repentant thief He assures Paradise, to all the men who were around Him, unaware of the tragedy that was being consummated, He offers a word of peace: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).

From Jesus’ forgiveness on the cross flows peace, true peace comes from the cross: it’s a gift of the Risen one, a gift that Jesus gives us. Think that the Risen Jesus’ first greeting is “peace to you,” peace to your souls, to your hearts, to your lives. The Lord gives us peace, He gives us forgiveness but we must ask: “deliver us from evil,” so as not to fall into evil. This is our hope, the strength that the Risen Jesus gives us, who is here, in our midst: He is here. He is here with that strength that He gives us to go on, and He promises to free us from evil.

[Original text: Italian] [ZENIT’s translation by Virginia M. Forrester]

In Italian

A warm welcome goes to the Italian-speaking faithful.

I’m happy to receive the Chapter Members of the Daughters of Jesus; the Women Religious of the “Mater Ecclesiae” Missionary College and the Sisters of Saint Joseph of Annecy.

I greet the parish groups, he refugees from Libya, welcomed at Better World; the Delegation of Save the Children-Italy; the Annibale Maria Association of France; the Casilina 1 and 2 extraordinary Reception Centers of Rome; the Delegation of the Municipality of Acireale and of Castellamare di Stabia.

A particular thought goes to young people, the elderly, the sick and newlyweds. In this month of May, dedicated to Our Lady, I invite you to imitate Her. Be courageous and capable of opening your heart to God and to brothers, to be able to be instruments of God’s mercy and tenderness.

15th MAY 2019 13:43GENERAL AUDIENCE

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alexlacquemanne · 2 years ago

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Décembre MMXXII

Films

Détective privé (Harper) (1966) de Jack Smight avec Paul Newman, Lauren Bacall, Janet Leigh, Robert Wagner, Julie Harris, Shelley Winters et Pamela Tiffin

Le Grand Sommeil (The Big Sleep) (1946) de Howard Hawks avec Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, John Ridgely, Martha Vickers, Dorothy Malone et Peggy Knudsen

Rebecca (1940) d'Alfred Hitchcock avec Laurence Olivier, Joan Fontaine, George Sanders, Judith Anderson, Nigel Bruce et Reginald Denny

Le Baron de l'écluse (1960) de Jean Delannoy avec Jean Gabin, Micheline Presle, Jacques Castelot, Aimée Mortimer, Jean Constantin, Blanchette Brunoy et Jean Desailly

La Femme d'à côté (1981) de François Truffaut avec Gérard Depardieu, Fanny Ardant, Henri Garcin, Michèle Baumgartner : Arlette Coudray et Véronique Silver

De la part des copains (Cold Sweat) (1970) de Terence Young avec Charles Bronson, Liv Ullmann, James Mason, Jill Ireland, Jean Topart et Michel Constantin

Un Américain à Paris (An American in Paris) (1951) de Vincente Minnelli avec Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Oscar Levant, Georges Guétary et Nina Foch

L'Odyssée de l'African Queen (The African Queen) (1951) de John Huston avec Humphrey Bogart, Katharine Hepburn, Robert Morley, Peter Bull et Theodore Bikel

L'Arnaqueur (The Hustler) (1961) de Robert Rossen avec Paul Newman, Piper Laurie, Jackie Gleason et George C. Scott et Myron McCormick

L'Express du colonel Von Ryan (Von Ryan's Express) (1965) de Mark Robson avec Frank Sinatra, Trevor Howard, Raffaella Carrà, Brad Dexter, Sergio Fantoni et Edward Mulhare

L'Adorable Voisine (Bell, Book and Candle) (1958) de Richard Quine avec James Stewart, Kim Novak, Jack Lemmon, Ernie Kovacs, Hermione Gingold et Elsa Lanchester

Hannibal (Annibale) (1959) de Carlo Ludovico Bragaglia et Edgar G. Ulmer avec Victor Mature, Rita Gam, Mario Girotti et Carlo Pedersoli, Gabriele Ferzetti et Milly Vitale

Cléopâtre (Cleopatra) (1963) de Joseph L. Mankiewicz avec Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Rex Harrison, Roddy McDowall, Pamela Brown, George Cole et Martin Landau

Astérix et Cléopâtre (1968) de René Goscinny et Albert Uderzo avec Roger Carel, Jacques Morel, Micheline Dax, Lucien Raimbourg, Pierre Tornade et Bernard Lavalette

Les Trois Mousquetaires (The Three Musketeers) (1973) de Richard Lester avec Oliver Reed, Raquel Welch, Richard Chamberlain, Michael York, Frank Finlay, Christopher Lee, Geraldine Chaplin, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Faye Dunaway et Charlton Heston

On l'appelait Milady (The Four Musketeers: Milady's Revenge) (1974) de Richard Lester avec Oliver Reed, Frank Finlay, Richard Chamberlain, Michael York, Raquel Welch, Christopher Lee et Faye Dunaway

Salomon et la Reine de Saba (Solomon and Sheba) (1959) de King Vidor avec Yul Brynner, Gina Lollobrigida, George Sanders, Marisa Pavan, Finlay Currie et David Farrar

Avatar : La Voie de l'eau (Avatar: The Way of Water) (2022) de James Cameron avec Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, Sigourney Weaver, Britain Dalton, Chloe Coleman et Stephen Lang

Fantômas (1964) d'André Hunebelle avec Jean Marais, Raymond Pellegrin, Louis de Funès, Mylène Demongeot, Jacques Dynam, Robert Dalban et Marie-Hélène Arnaud

Fantômas se déchaîne (1965) d'André Hunebelle avec Louis de Funès, Jean Marais, Mylène Demongeot, Jacques Dynam et Robert Dalban

Derrick contre Superman (Eine grosse Fünf) (1992) de Michel Hazanavicius et Dominique Mézerette avec Patrick Burgel et Évelyne Grandjean

La Classe américaine : Le Grand Détournement (1993) de Michel Hazanavicius et Dominique Mézerette avec Christine Delaroche, Evelyne Grandjean, Marc Cassot, Patrick Guillemin, Raymond Loyer et Jean-Claude Montalban

Séries

Inspecteur Barnaby Saison 7, 21, 22, 20, 10

Les Femmes de paille - Le monstre du lac - Epouvantables épouvantails - Les Lions de Causton - La Randonnée de la mort - La monnaie de leur pièce - Le couperet de la justice - Les Sorcières d'Angel's Rise

Friends Saison 1, 2, 3

Celui qui déménage - Celui qui est perdu - Celui qui a un rôle - Celui avec George - Celui qui lave plus blanc - Celui qui est verni - Celui qui a du jus - Celui qui hallucine - Celui qui parle au ventre de sa femme - Celui qui singeait - Celui qui était comme les autres - Celui qui aimait les lasagnes - Celui qui fait des descentes dans les douches - Celui qui avait un cœur d'artichaut - Celui qui pète les plombs - Celui qui devient papa : 1re partie - Celui qui devient papa : 2e partie - Celui qui gagnait au poker - Celui qui a perdu son singe - Celui qui a un dentiste carié - Celui qui avait un singe - Celui qui rêve par procuration - Celui qui a failli rater l'accouchement - Celui qui fait craquer Rachel - Celui qui a une nouvelle fiancée - Celui qui détestait le lait maternel - Celui qui est mort dans l'appart du dessous - Celui qui avait viré de bord - Celui qui se faisait passer pour Bob - Celui qui a oublié un bébé dans le bus - Celui qui tombe des nues - Celui qui a été très maladroit - Celui qui cassait les radiateurs - Celui qui se dédouble - Celui qui n'apprécie pas certains mariages - Celui qui retrouve son singe : 1re partie - Celui qui retrouve son singe : 2e partie - Celui qui a failli aller au bal de promo - Celui qui a fait on ne sait quoi avec Rachel - Celui qui vit sa vie - Celui qui remplace celui qui part - Celui qui disparaît de la série - Celui qui ne voulait pas partir - Celui qui se met à parler - Celui qui affronte les voyous - Celui qui faisait le lien - Celui qui attrape la varicelle - Celui qui embrassait mal - Celui qui rêvait de la princesse Leia - Celui qui a du mal à se préparer - Celui qui avait la technique du câlin - Celui qui ne supportait pas les poupées - Celui qui bricolait - Celui qui se souvient - Celui qui était prof et élève - Celui qui avait pris un coup sur la tête - Celui pour qui le foot c'est pas le pied - Celui qui fait démissionner Rachel - Celui qui ne s'y retrouvait plus - Celui qui était très jaloux - Celui qui persiste et signe - Celui que les prothèses ne gênaient pas - Celui qui vivait mal la rupture - Celui qui a survécu au lendemain

Alexandra Ehle Saison 3

Sans visage

Coffre à Catch

#92 : Kane tombe dans un traquenard ! - #93 : The Brothers of Destruction à la ECW ! - #94 : Edge, Kofi, Shelton : Catch Attack représent !" - #95 : Tac Tac c'est l'anniversaire d'Ichtou ! (feat. David Jouan)

The Rookie Saison 4

Dénouement - Toc toc toc - Les trois quêtes - Tir à vue - Témoins à abattre - Un meurtre pour de vrai - Négociation - Traîtres - Simone - Enervo

The Crown Saison 5

Comme un déjà vu - Le système - Mou Mou - Annus horribilis - Des précautions salutaires - La Maison Ipatiev - No woman's land - Une vraie poudrière - Couple numéro 31 - Déclassement

Columbo Saison 4, 3

Inculpé de meurtre - Play Back - Candidat au crime

Affaires Sensibles

Leonarda, l'adolescente qui a défié le président

Meurtres au paradis

Le fantôme de Noël

Spectacles

Bénabar : tournée des indociles (2022) au Cirque d'Amiens

Alain Souchon au Dôme de Paris (2022)

The Glenn Miller Orchestra Live at the Avalon Theatre (2021)

L'orchestre fait son cinéma au Zénith de Pau (2013)

Livres

La vengeance du Chat de Phillipe Geluck

Nota Bene, Tome 5 : La Mythologie Grecque de Benjamin Brillaud, Mathieu Mariolle, Phil Castaza et Joël Odone

Détective Conan, Tome 3 de Gôshô Aoyama

Mémoires d'un gros mytho de François Rollin et Stéphane Trapier

OSS 117 : Gâchis à Karachi de Jean Bruce

Tatiana K. Tome 3 : Le stygmate de Longinus de François Corteggiani et Emanuele Barison

Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours de Jules Verne

Kaamelott Tome 9 : Les renforts maléfiques de Alexandre Astier et Steven Dupré

The Clash en BD de Jean-Philippe Gonot et Gaëts

Le Voyage du Père Noël des Editions Korrigan

Astérix Tome24 : Astérix chez les Belges de René Goscinny et Albert Uderzo

Lucky Luke Tome 56 : Le ranch maudit de Morris, Claude Guylouis et Michel Janvier

#mediatheque #décembre22

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