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2-old-to-guard · 5 months ago

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Nicolò, Nicky, di Genova

For the second analysis I shall be exploring the inner workings of Nicky. Now, Nicky is a VERY quiet character so a lot of my analysis shall be subtext delievered by the amazing Luca Marinelli who put 110% into this role.

First Impression:

The first time Nicky is mentioned is between Andy and Booker. He uses the couple as a tactic to get Andy to consider the mission. (You can see that when Booker looks at Andy immedietly after Nicky opens the door).

This is actually the first example of Nicky being the first line of defence. He opens the door while Joe hangs back. But both of the men relax when they see her. The hug Andy and Nicky is much more soft than the one between her and Joe which shows Nicky's more reserved character. It also heavily differs to the ways Andy and Booker touch each other, which is discused in Booker's post here. I also like how the couple are kind of matching shirts, I think it's cute.

Relationships:

I've spoke about Nicky and Booker in my Booker post so you can read that here. But from Nicky's perspective, I believe he's humoring Booker and clearly holds no actual anger when he loses. He's known Andy for longer than Booker and must know she'll guess the baklava. But he places the bet anyway as it seems to be a little tradition between the duo, giving them a unique relationship. Finally, it shows they have a rather flippant approach to money as they bet A LOT of money on this silly bet, which could also show how long this bet has been going on for.

Nicky's role in Andy's story is to be the constant postive approach to their immortality. He is clearly under the belief that their long life has to mean something and this is what fate has dictated they do with their undeath. At the beginning Andy is hostile to this and snaps at him multiple times. Simply through their differing personalities, they have the least connection but the small moments they have together show their love. He is also another gift giving person and gives her the baklava in a rather affectionate way. Unlike Booker, Nicky values gifts that serve a purpose (food).

I'm going to talk about Joe and Nicky in the Van scene as it deserves its own section.

Sniper:

Nicky is the sniper of the group which continues through the beginning sequence. Each of the members have their specific role.

I like the little moment where Copley waves at Nicky through his rifle. It's subtle but works to explain Nicky's later remark:

"We are usually a better judge of character."

As it gives Nicky and Copley a moment before the betrayal.

Sudan:

Nicky is the only immortal to talk to the group of people they pass on their mission.

This analysis is inspired by this post. It's subtle but it shows Nicky's kindness and how he goes out of his way to be kind to people. It's not just about rescuing people from kidnappers, it's about being kind to people.

Also, I think it's interesting that Nicky knows many languages and goes out of his way to speak to people in their native tounge.

Another subtle moment of showing the skills each of the Guard have. Not only does Nicky kill two guards with one bullet, he also catches the shell casing to ensure no evidence is left behind.

As the mission is revealed to be an ambush, Nicky's sole focus is on the hypothetical girls, even after they are killed. Nicky believes Copley is on their side and so cannot comprehend that he lied to them.

Whilst Joe is discussed as being "an incurable romantic", Nicky also has his moments. Specifically, in this scene Nicky dies looking at Joe so when Joe turns to see if Nicky is still alive, Nicky is already staring at him.

Later on, when Andy is fully in despair Nicky tries to comfort her with the same line as before. But this time, Andy snaps at him. This is the middle part of this conflict between them. The first is the status quo, the second is the conflict, the third is the resolution.

Contextually, Nicky's first conflict was the Crusades and that is considered one of the worst conflicts in history. Nicky most likely feels immense shame for it and that is what drives his need to do good. Saying they did what they did "For the right reasons" shows Nicky is acknowledging you can do it for the wrong reasons. He shows great sadness at Andy's cynicism in this scene but doesn't say anything, once again showing his reserved nature.

The Dreams:

As stated previously, the ways each of the characters interpret the dreams shows us something about their characters.

Nicky is the first person to state what he saw in his dream and he zeros in on who the new immortal and what she looks like. Next, he talks about the surroundings "dirt walls, clay walls". Thirdly he brings up the weapon that is used. "The pesh-kabz is an Indo-Persian knife used extensively in northern India and Afghanistan". In three lines, Nicky has figured out the physical appearance of the new immortal, the setting in which she died, and the geographical location of the new immortal. This scene highlights Nicky's practical nature, similar to the way he used his rifle to kill two men at once to ensure the alarm wouldn't be raised.

From Nile p.o.v all she sees of Joe and Nicky is them embracing. Joe and Nicky's first priority is love, whether for each other or the rest of their family.

This is immedietly followed by Nicky's monologue about one's first death. This scene, like "peace be with you", shows Nicky's empathy for other people. He immedietly decides to save her not for a practical reason (like Andy), but for emotional reason.

"Whoever she is, she’s confused, and she’s scared, and she’s more alone than she has ever been in her entire life."

This also seems to be him emploring Andy's softer side, which works and shows how close Andy and Nicky are and how well he knows her.

Finally, Booker claiming that Nicky always had Joe is incorrect as he woke from death alone and was isolated for many years before they put their differences aside (apologies for the Booker slander but my boi deserved that).

The Dinner Scene:

In many of the deleated scenes, Nicky has a strong passion for food. This was cut but this moment where he smiles seeing Nile eat his food is really cute and shows his caring nature.

I also like the subtle difference where Nicky finishes Joe's sentence after Nile appears confused:

"So you good guys or bad guys?"

"Depends on the century."

"We fight for what we think is right."

I don't know why no one talks about this but Nicky is the first one in the relationship to tell Nile about it.

This line doesn't hit as hard at the van confession but it's so simple in the way it states that Joe and Nicky are together. It's so sweet how Nicky doesn't even hesitate in explicitly stating his love for Joe.

There is also a little regret in the way he says "many times" which adds to Nicky's regret over the crusades.

The scene, for Nicky, ends when he notices how conflicted Nile is and offers her a place to rest. Another example of Nicky's kindess.

Quynh:

Nicky and Joe's sleeping pattern has been highly analysed by the fanbase so I won't talk about it in a lot of detail. While Joe is shielding Nicky with his body on the train, Nicky is protecting Joe with his body in Gousanville safe house. Nicky, as the sniper, is the most observant of the group and is awake and alert first out of all of them. He also has a gun in his hand by the time Joe and Booker are awake.

I think it's very important for Nicky and Joe be the ones to talk about Quynh. For Nicky's side, he must feel immense guilt for the imprisonment of Quynh as it was his fellow christians who dropped her into the bottom of the ocean. The guilt he feels is shown through the camera angle. Andy views Nicky talking about the witch trials through a church window. Whilst it's commendable that the movie keeps Nicky a christian even after his long life and his relationship with Joe, it adds to his complexity as he fully recognises the crimes of his fellow christians but remains faithful, probally because the same God that make him immortal gave him the life he has with Joe. He also fights through his pain to explain to the scared Nile what she saw. His kindness doesn't blind him, however, and he allows Andy to be the one to talk to Nile after she storms off.

The Van Scene:

Whilst Joe and Nicky are joined together for the most part, to the point where they are mostly referred to as Joe and Nicky, they are their own seperate people. Joe is more outspoken and emotional whilst Nicky is reserved. This is most clearly displayed with the different ways each of the characters react to the homophobic comment from the guards.

While Joe begins to preach to the men, Nicky says very little. He shows exhaustion at the comment rather than just anger, showing how this kind of bigotry is nothing new to him and someting he is tired of. As Joe's speach continues, Nicky goes from tired, to touched. As Luca said it an interview, all he had to do was get lost in Marwan's eyes.

But Nicky isn't completley emotionless. By the end of Joe's speach, Nicky is overcome with love that he leans forwards and kisses Joe. The focus on him in this scene makes it seem like Nicky moved first and Joe followed. Another moment of Nicky being the first to show affection to Joe.

All of this culminates in them kicking the guards ass as all good power couples should.

Whilst the idea of them only doing this because they're homophobic is funny, in the comics it's clear that they did this to try and escape. Still, this one of the first time Nicky is snarky. I believe this is Nicky putting on a persona to try and intimidate the mercanaries and make them unsteady in another attempt to escape.

This is also the first example of Nicky absolutley gagging someone. Having him turn to Copley and say "We are usually a better judge of character". Copley holds an immense respect for the immortals so having one of them dunk on him works well to support his change of allegience later on.

The Merrick Confrontation:

Again, another scene that foucses on Joe's outspokeness. But Nicky is again subtly displaying more of his character.

After Joe headbutts Merrick, Nicky subtly tries to reach for Joe. He probally realises this will result in something bad and so tries to protect Joe.

When Joe is stabbed, Nicky, for the second time, loses his composure and tries to reach for Joe. From the a story writing perspective, obviously this will not kill Joe, but having Nicky be so reserved for the majority of the film his out-of-character panic adds to the tension of the scene.

As Merrick monolouges neither of the couple are really listening. Nicky is solely focused on Joe and making sure he's ok. You can see Luca subtly look to Joe's neck before moving in for the blessed headbump. The fact that Marwan and Luca improvised that, probally inspired by the deleted scene where they do the same thing, hurts my soul. Anyway, it is only when he knows Joe is ok, Nicky then focuses on Merrick. This could also show to symbolise that Merrick isn't the threat Nicky is worried about. That fear is reserved only for death.

The Lab Scene:

Despite being in extreme pain, Nicky doesn't scream and tries to keep in any noises. This could serve two purposes,

The first is that he doesn't want to give Kozak the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. Including lines such as "do you feel the wound trying to close?" shows she clearly holds more sadistic interest in these experiements.

The second purpose is that he doesn't want to worry Joe. From the following dialouge, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake" he was working under the assumption that Joe was asleep and if he was asleep, Nicky screaming would wake him.

This is the second example of Nicky gagging his captors. But this one seems to go over Kozak's head, which makes me laugh. The script has to balance the weight of each of the characters' lives with making them seem relatable and like real people. This is an example of Nicky's imortality dictating his response. Even though Kozak is actively torturing him, he holds little resentment towards her and admits he understands her actions. From a personal perspective, his involvment in the crusades, and from a historical perspective, all the ways humanity has experimented on others claiming to be trying to save the world.

When Joe wakes up, Nicky tries to soothe his panic by saying, "As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake". The couple are clearly trying to pretend that what is happening to them isn't happning. I think Nicky is the one who is more accepting of what they are going through.

The subtle smile Luca does when he says 'Malta' shows him letting nostalgia consume him insted of fear. But when he says "we should go back", he's letting the reality of the situation settle in again. But he still holds hope that they will escape, showing the trust he has in Andy.

The Lab Scene Continued:

The despair on Nicky's face can be seen from the beginning of this scene. He seems genuinley shocked that Andy has been captured, once again showing how much he's trusts her. The difference between Joe and Nicky is shown again when they react to Andy's mortality. Nicky slowly lowers his head whilst Joe's is more explicit.

Furthermore, when Nicky says "All things", he isn't looking at Merrick. He's seemingly looking at the sky, possibley towards God. He's not angry but instead seems to be sad and accepting.

The final example of Nicky gagging his captor. The line "as is yours" works in two ways. The first is to remind Merrick that for all his money, and influence, and connections, he is still mortal and he will eventually die long before Nicky ever does. Secondly, it works as a threat. Merrick is reminded that the extremely skilled killers he has tied up in his basement could in fact escape and they'll come straight for him. Nicky's reserved attitude could make him seem a passive character but lines like that show the anger that bubbles beneath the surface.

The Final Battle:

This is really short but despite not knowing Nile for a day, Nicky still warns her about the incoming attack.

For all his talk of 'we die when we die' Nicky is still worried about risking Andy's life. It's the only time his faith is really disputed and this time, Andy reassures Nicky's faith which is a fun development between them.

This fear for Andy is further shown in the fight scene. Nicky is consistantly looking for Andy and making sure she's ok. This fear leads to his own injury.

Joe and Nicky's relationship is further shown in the absolute confidence Nicky holds for Joe. He doesn't even look behind him during a fight as he knows Joe will be right behind him. I actually love this too.

Also, this shot of Nicky glaring at Booker shows that even though he doesn't want to punish Booker AS severely as Joe, he still holds an immense amount of anger towards Booker. This difference between Joe and Nicky might be due to their differing realationships with Booker. Nicky and Booker were less affectionate, and possibly more distant so his betrayel doesn't hurt Nicky as much... but it does.

The Keane Scene:

This is the final moment where Nicky's calm demenor is uprooted by an intense emotional moment. At first, when it is just him in danger, he uses skilled fighting techniques to fight Keane. But when Joe is the one in danger, he just lunges for Keane just to try and save Joe. This scene is highly controversial as many people see it as unnecessarily violent and too close to real life crimes against gay people. From my perspective, it is meant to symbolise the way gay people have persevered despite their many struggles. It's why Nicky doesn't die in this scene and it ends with the couple embracing.

Also, despite having just DIED, Nicky first concern is Andy which is the pinnacle moment of his kindness.

Final Nicky Scenes:

With everything we've learnt of Nicky throughout the movie, it makes total sense that he's the first person to reach Nile after her fall. Unlike Booker, who was just telling her to give up on her old life, Nicky tries to show her that her new existence is worth something just like he does with Andy.

As as stated by https://www.tumblr.com/wickedpact/629810255706079232/love-is-stored-in-the-nicky?source=share, him willing sitting in the middle is so quintessential Nicky.

After all the debates around what is their purpose and why they are what they are. This quick shot of Nicky smiling after Nile's line "maybe this is why Andy" is the resulution to his arc through the movie.

His arc doesn't work in the way that they usually work. He doesn't change in his beliefs or world-view and instead, it is other people realising that he was right. It also involves him realising his is right and having his world-view confirmed.

Conclusion:

Like Booker, Nicky serves a specific role in the movie. Most of the other characters are loud and outspoken but Nicky serves as the quiet warmth in the background. He doesn't go through any major crisis and seems mostly self-realised. On the opposite end of Booker, he stands as the angel (hah) on Andy's shoulder and gives her the second option for the reason for their life. Also, shout out to Luca Marinelli for doing all of this with such little dialogue!!

#the old guard #the old guard 2 #luca marinelli #immortal husbands #nicolo di genova

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year ago

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1968 [Chapter 12: Aphrodite, Goddess Of Love] [Series Finale]

A/N: Surprise!!! A new chapter from Maggie?? On a Thursday?? I was just too excited to wait! Please enjoy the final installment of 1968 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6k

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

The sun is rising, and all the guests have dissipated like morning stars. You and Aegon are sitting across from each other at the table in the kitchenette of your suite, cool grey morning light slanting into the silence, confetti on the floor, broken glass, crumbs from the catered appetizers—gyros, hummus, pita, mini spanakopitas, baklava—stomped into the carpet, spots that are soggy with spilled champagne. The Plaza might have to replace it. Outside, rain falls in a mist. Your makeup is smudged; your hair is falling out of its clips and pins. Aemond is waiting, standing with his back to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair slicked back, blue suit, prosthetic eye filling the void in his skull. You know what happens next, but you can’t bring yourself to rise, to speak, to set it into motion. You stare down at the lines in the palm of your uninjured hand and think of the ropes of a sailboat, the invisible strings of gravity that enchain the universe.

Aegon swipes at his eyes: bloodshot, vacant, continuously streaming tears. “I’m gonna go back to Yuma.”

You look up at him, startled. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Aemond agrees from the wall.

Aegon begs you in a hoarse whisper, eyes dark and glistening like the Atlantic at night: “Come with me.”

Your hands shaking, your voice splintering. “I can’t, Aegon. I can’t.”

He drums his knuckles on the table, gets up from his chair, rushes to you before Aemond can stop him. He’s holding you, his lips to your forehead, the salt of his tears on your cheeks and your lips, like the ocean is bleeding out of him, like he’ll drown you. “I’m sorry,” he says, breath catching in his throat, his pores hemorrhaging smoke, horror, rum, ruin.

Once you pushed Aegon away, hated him, stained him with your husband’s blood. Now your fingernails hook like claws into his army jacket and cling there, frantic and childlike. “Not yet, please, Aegon, don’t go, please don’t go.”

“I have to, I’m sorry.”

“Aegon, no–”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He’s sobbing, he’s trembling, he’s gone. The doorway is empty like an unfinished sentence, like a myth no one remembers. The silence floods back into the rain-grey November air. The room is cold like a mausoleum. You touch your own face: tears Aegon left there, muscles and nerves dead beneath your skin, disbelief you sink through like the sea, waiting to hit the floor deep with the silt of rocks and wreckage and bones.

He’s gone? He’s really gone?

Aemond stalks over to the table, smirking, radiant, his hands in the pockets of his suit; he takes his time, he savors it. He’s never been higher. He was right all along. He can’t be killed, he is destined to be the president. It is God’s will. “Get ready,” Aemond says. “I have a victory speech to make.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He heads west on Route 70, billboards and drive-thrus, toll booths and reflective green mile markers, the kids fighting over who gets to pick the radio station from the back of the Dodge A-100 that Otto had hastily procured, handing over the keys as Aegon rolled his suitcase out of the Plaza Hotel. That first night they stop in Wheeling, Ohio, and the kids have startlingly little resistance to this upheaval. They can’t find much to complain about. A road trip with Dad and only Dad, no journalists badgering them for photos or quotes, no orders barked from Otto or Aemond, no exacting campaign itinerary, no scripted propriety, Mountain Dew spills on the carpet, Pizza Hut boxes on cheap springy motel mattresses.

“What do you think about all this?” Aegon asks Orion when the younger ones have dozed off: Cosmo and Thaddeus on one bed, Violeta in another, Spiro lounging across the threadbare sofa with a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring resting open on his chest.

Orion shrugs, that adolescent aversion to vulnerability, like the whole world is out to shake you down for evidence of the defections you’re so convinced define you. “It’s cool, I guess. It’s like an adventure. And we’ll get to see you a lot more.”

“Yeah you will,” Aegon promises. He feels sick: no booze, no pills, the grease of pepperoni churning in his belly. “And I’m never gonna be the way I was before.”

The bathroom is tiny and spartan, white porcelain, black specks of mildew. When he’s done showering, Aegon wipes the fog off the mirror with his fist. In Ancient Greece, a shaved head was the mark of a slave; it was meant to strip the man of his past, to make him brand new. He remembers Aemond saying this one afternoon as they were all out sailing at Asteria, Aegon sprawled on his back and drinking rum from the bottle as beams of sunlight refracted through the glass, Aemond leafing through one of his history books, Helaena throwing bits of pita to the seagulls, Daeron peering through his telescope for glimpses of dolphins, sharks, bobbing treasure from shipwrecks, imagined enemy vessels. Aegon thinks as he studies his reflection under the harsh fluorescent lights—crinkles by his eyes, skin ravaged by years of careless sunburn—that he wouldn’t mind not having a past. He opens his shaving kit and takes out the straight razor he never uses, shears off his tangled, windswept locks of blonde hair, smiles when the kids laugh and call him Yul Brynner the next morning over breakfast at the diner beside the motel, blueberry pancakes and toast wet with egg yolks. He’s not brand new; it’s impossible to be. But he’s getting closer.

The Fort Yuma Indian Reservation has grown during the Kennedy and Johnson years. The tribe now enjoys a steady income from numerous projects, including the leasing of farmland, a convenience store, a casino and resort, and an RV park. The school has been rebuilt—bigger, more modern, air conditioning, hallelujah—since Aegon was first exiled here twenty years ago, but several of the employees have familiar faces, and the current principal was once an English teacher assigned to be his mentor, a different lifetime, an ancient myth.

“You look good,” Artie says as he descends the concrete front steps on an afternoon in mid-November, 75 degrees, bright cerulean sky, no clouds. He takes Aegon’s outstretched hand and shakes it. “Kind of fat, but good. You still play guitar?”

“I do, yeah. I have one in the back of my van right now.”

Artie glances at the giggling, waving children behind the glass windows. “Jesus Pleasus, how many kids you got?”

Aegon chuckles. “Five, I think.”

“Five! Well, they’re welcome to attend here, if you want them to be where you are.”

“That’s a very generous offer. They’ve never gone to a real school before. They had private tutors in New Jersey.”

“What a great way to raise jackasses, if you ask me.” Artie gives him a stern look over, wrinkled brow, narrowed brown eyes. “You sober?”

“No pills, no drinking, occasional weed.”

“Goddamn, that’s a lot better than I expected.”

“Hey Artie?”

“Uh huh.”

“Would you happen to need a math teacher?”

Artie studies him thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re always looking for qualified math and science people. They leave the quickest, those aerospace and electronics companies over in California pay too much. Why? You know someone?”

“I used to,” Aegon says, then motions for his kids to get out of the van. Artie lets them eat ice cream in the cafeteria while Aegon signs his contract.

He’s in Yuma for three weeks before he meets a girl. Her name is Rachel, and she’s a dream that walked out of the Summer Of Love: hair down to her waist, boots to her knees, handknit vests, chipped nail polish and teasing smiles, a taste for sun and smoking. At night they sit under the stars behind Aegon’s bungalow out in the desert, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs with the kids, Aegon strumming his guitar, Rachel playing her harmonica, a few homely adopted mutts loping around instead of purebred Alopekis. She likes him, this boyish sunbeam of a man who always seems just a little lost, a little sad. She might even love him.

And yet there are ghosts, beasts, threads the fates have not yet severed. One night in January after the kids have gone to sleep, Aegon is flipping through television channels as Rachel returns to the couch with a bowl full of Jiffy Pop, plops down onto the cushions, curls up against him. Aegon stumbles upon CBS Evening News, a clip from the inauguration, and his words vanish mid-sentence, his eyes—an opaque, stormy, melancholic sort of blue—growing wide. He doesn’t change the channel. He doesn’t move at all.

“What?” Rachel asks. On the screen is a clip of President Targaryen being sworn in, his wife at his side and cradling the Bible in her hands. She’s wearing Oscar de la Renta—a powder blue wool coat that matches her husband’s tie—and a stately new hairstyle that is very distinctly inspired by Jackie Kennedy. Her smile is serene and dignified, if perhaps a bit remote. She could be a marble statue in a garden or a museum. It must be a lot of pressure for her, Rachel thinks. To live up to being the partner of a man that remarkable. “Aegon? Baby, are you okay?”

After a long time Aegon says, very softly, like it’s only to himself: “He made her cut her hair.”

Rachel stares mystified at the television and then turns back to Aegon. “What happened with her?” Something must have. He looks staggered, he looks haunted, he looks like someone Medusa turned to stone. Rachel knows about who Aegon is, of course, everyone does; but he never wants to talk about it. When people mention his family, Aegon smiles politely and then changes the subject. When they ask about his sister-in-law, he says he needs a cigarette and walks out of the room. She sent him a beautiful, shimmering gold acoustic Gibson guitar for Christmas; the first lady’s name was on the return address. To Rachel’s knowledge, Aegon never thanked her.

Aegon shakes his head, and Rachel can’t tell if that means the story is too long or too short, unrealized potential, loose kaleidoscopic strands of stardust, infinitesimal moments that wouldn’t have meaning to anyone else. “Nothing.” Then he resumes switching channels: I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, the Newlywed Game.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your parents fly north for the inauguration, so proud, so effusive, interviewed by every major news network. Business is booming at the Spongeorama Sponge Factory back in Tarpon Springs. They are seated between Alicent and Ludwika’s mother Elzbieta, newly arrived from Poland. LBJ and Lady Bird are cordial but uncharacteristically understated, retreating back to their home state of Texas like kicked dogs. All the defeated adversaries of the campaign trail attend to show their support, to wordlessly plead for a long-awaited national reconciliation. George Wallace won’t meet your eyes. Richard Nixon whispers through your hair as he clasps your scarred hand: “Aemond could never have done this without you.”

Jackie Kennedy’s chosen cause as first lady was the restoration of the White House, Lady Bird’s was environmental protection. You want to visit schools and help teach math to little kids, but Aemond decides it would be more politically expedient for you to be seen tending to wounded veterans of Vietnam; so you spend many of your days in hospitals, inhaling charred flesh and Lysol and dying flowers and blood. The Japanese ambassador bows lower to you than he does to Aemond. The prime minister of France tries (unsuccessfully) to flirt with you. Athenagoras I of Constantinople, the Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church, brings you a komboskini he has blessed. Reprieves come in slivers like a disappearing moon: lunches with Fosco–carpaccio, caprese, bolognese, polenta–and drinks with Ludwika, always something with rum, something that tastes like Aegon. You dream of incubators and arterial spray, stitches and scars and crimson bandages, the flash of blades, the thunder of bullets; but the would-be assassins go to prison and no one else ever tries. You are Persephone in the Underworld. You are Io in the wilderness.

You are just beginning to panic about what you’ll do when your tiny pink birth control pills run out when Fosco shows up to one of your lunches with a paper bag full of familiar circular packets. “I have been informed that I am to be your dealer,” he says, grinning. “I will be back with more in six months. I told the doctor they were for my mistress. I don’t even have a mistress! Isn’t this exciting? I am like a secret agent. I am the Italian James Bond. The name’s Viviani, Fosco Viviani.”

“Aegon asked you to do this?”

“Well, he did not ask, exactly. I do not think I was allowed to say no.”

You hide the paper bag in the Louis Vuitton purse Ludwika bought you, so thankful you don’t have words for it, missing Aegon like Orpheus missed Eurydice, searching through the shade-haunted grey haze of the Underworld for her.

“It was odd,” Fosco says quietly, delicately. “He did not want to know anything about you. He asked if you needed anything else that I was aware of, I said no, and then he hung up when I started to tell him about Christmas dinner.”

You remember Aegon’s words, ghosts from where Long Beach Island meets the Atlantic Ocean: Mimi wasn’t as strong as you. Maybe what Aegon didn’t say is that he isn’t either. You imagine the fates snipping threads, the memoryless oblivion offered by the River Lethe, moons becoming greater and lesser. He has to try to forget you. You have to let him.

On Valentine’s Day weekend, Daeron comes home. He and John McCain are the last two men freed from the prisoner of war camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. When he steps off the plane, Daeron is carrying with him, of all things, a single white rat in a wire cage. The first question he asks, after being engulfed in embraces from Alicent, Criston, and Fosco, is: “Where’s Aegon?” And he knows from the stilted, piecemeal explanations he receives that something has happened. You take Daeron to breakfast the next morning, and you don’t tell him everything, but you tell him enough. He spends a month recuperating at Asteria, then follows Zephyr, the god of the west wind, across the country to Arizona.

Aegon didn’t send you anything for Christmas, and he didn’t respond to the guitar you gifted him with Ludwika’s assistance. But on July 13th, a green envelope arrives in your mail basket with no return address. You open it to find a greeting card with an exuberant cow on the front. Inside, the original message—You’re mooooooving on up in the world! Happy retirement!—has been crossed out with black ink. You laugh, your first real laugh in weeks, and then read what Aegon has written in his chaotic, scribbling penmanship:

I thought this was blank :)

Hope you’re doing okay. You look great on tv.

Then there is an expanse of open white space, like a weighty hesitation. There’s no signature, but there is one final note like a postscript.

Thank you for the guitar, but please don’t send anything else. It fucks me up, you know?

Yes, you do know. Aegon never calls you, but Cosmo does. Once or twice a week he dials your private line at the White House–Aegon must have asked Fosco for it–and tells you all about his new life in Yuma, his school, his friends, the dogs, the desert. Aegon’s met someone named Rachel; Cosmo mentions her intermittently yet with unmistakable fondness: “Rachel makes the best s’mores,” “Rachel told me about seeing Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock,” “Rachel took us to pick pumpkins for Halloween.” You’re glad Cosmo calls, and you’re glad he’s happy; but afterwards you always feel so indescribably, irredeemably sad.

You sneak your pills and avoid Aemond as much as you can, something that becomes easier as he spends long hours reviewing briefs in the Oval Office, preparing speeches, meeting foreign dignitaries, strategizing with his cabinet, and scheming against his conservative foes across the nation, a faction soon led by California governor Ronald Reagan. You stand perfectly still as designers alter Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent and Givenchy to fit you like woolen armor. You strike up a chaste, harmless flirtation with a Secret Service agent from Atlanta named Nathaniel, not because he reminds you of Aegon—Nate is 6’4, 250 pounds, and a former Navy SEAL—but because he listens, because he is kind. He gives you riveting summaries of films and books that are considered too scandalous for you to be seen enjoying. He makes fun of your matronly skirt suits. He takes you to get lemon-lime Mr. Mistys at Dairy Queen. He massages your scarred hand with rose oil.

In May of 1969, Aemond voices support for university students across the nation protesting in favor of increased Black faculty and Africana Studies courses. In July, the Apollo 11 mission lands the first men on the moon, effectively ending the Space Race with an American victory. In September, Lieutenant William Calley receives a sentence of life in prison for his role in the My Lai Massacre the previous year. In November, the Rolling Stones release a new album entitled Let It Bleed. Ludwika gives you the record for Christmas along with an array of perfumes and lipsticks, all extravagantly packaged in a pink Gucci gift box. Your favorite song is Gimme Shelter. You listen to it at dusk in the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, your chair facing west, taking slow drags off Lucky Strike cigarettes that Nate buys for you, embers glowing as the sun disappears.

“What’s out there?” Nate asks you one night with a slinky half-grin, and then when you don’t immediately answer: “You’re always looking that way. What are you looking for?”

You don’t know what to tell him. Nothing. Everything. Something that almost happened. And slowly, under a lavender twilight peppered with the remote glimmers of constellations—stars that cannot be changed, disasters predestined since before you were born—Nate’s smile dies, and he never asks again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three time zones away, Aegon’s hair grows out and he gets his ears re-pierced, tiny gold hoops that make him think of wedding rings. Rachel pretends she doesn’t want to get married. Aegon doesn’t offer. Once in a while after the kids have gone to bed, he climbs into the hammock in the backyard and smokes a joint, staring absently into the east as the new Rolling Stones album spins on the record player. Aegon’s favorite song is You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Rachel stands at the telescope they set up for the kids—Cosmo’s idea—and stargazes, making her way down a checklist of visible celestial objects.

One night Aegon asks as she’s squinting through the eyepiece: “Where’s Jupiter?”

Rachel glances over at him, then points up at the indigo sky. “It’s that one, the really bright spot near Perseus. Why?”

Aegon shrugs, exhaling smoke. “No reason,” he says; but he’s still looking at Jupiter, wounded, stoned wonder floating on the surface of his watery eyes.

Daeron settles down in Yuma and buys a ranch. He does some work at the VA Hospital a few hours away in Tucson, some white water rafting on the Colorado River, some hiking in the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, a whole lot of roughhousing with his niece and nephews. John McCain, now a war hero and national celebrity, is always calling to see if Daeron has decided to run for office yet. A few times a year, they receive visitors from the East Coast: Alicent, Criston, Ludwika, Helaena, Fosco, and their three children. The president and first lady are not mentioned unless by accident. The kids adore their grandmother, and she loves them back, although Alicent never learns to appreciate Tessarion the rat and refuses to hold her. In 1970, Helaena and Fosco have one last baby, a daughter they name Marina after Mimi. Life goes on, but the ghosts remain.

On a chilly evening in January of 1972, Aegon is flipping through television channels when he lands on an NBC segment about First Lady Targaryen touring the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland. “That’s so fucked up,” Aegon murmurs as she calmly soothes the suffering of mutilated men, and his voice is dark with scorching, clandestine fury. He gestures to the screen with the remote control. “She hates hospitals. He makes her do things that hurt her. He does it just to prove he can.”

Rachel says as she stands in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, a question she has finally worked up the courage to ask: “No one is ever going to be able to compare to her, right?”

Aegon opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it again. And something washes over him like waves of the ocean, sun on sand, poison in the blood and the lungs, myths that carve themselves into your bones so deep you can see the red of the marrow underneath. He replies truthfully, his eyes still on the screen: “Right.”

Rachel packs her bags. Aegon gets up to help her. He feels it’s the least he can do.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you and Aemond return to Asteria for summer vacations, the seaside Targaryen compound is full of ghosts. You catch glimpses of Mimi stumbling up staircases, Cosmo trotting after you as you turn corners, Aegon smoking a joint under the statue of Zeus in Helaena’s garden. You open cabinets and bottles of his pills fall out. You see Sunfyre bobbing abandoned in the boathouse. The basement is just as Aegon left it. Sometimes you go down there and stand on the green shag carpet in the hushed, cool, damp emptiness, not knowing what you’re waiting for, staring at the wall until someone comes to look for you.

“What’s in these?” Nate asks one afternoon, snatching a notebook off the shelf. “Oh wow, look!” He shows you messy sketches in black ink, cartoon versions of the stories of Greek gods and goddesses, myths reimagined. “Who do you think drew them?”

“Maybe Daeron,” you reply, but it wasn’t him. You’d know Aegon’s handwriting anywhere. Nate leafs through a bunch of the notebooks, booming laughter—he especially enjoys that Poseidon has been characterized as a sexually insatiable dolphin—and reading his favorite parts out loud to you. One notebook is only half-full; the last few pages are covered with drawings of tiny cows, telephones with long spiral cords, the moon in all its phases. You tear these out to keep.

On each July 13th, there is a card with no return address waiting in your mail basket at the White House, always featuring a jovial cow, always making you smile. You entrust Nate with the task of hiding the notebook pages and greeting cards away somewhere safe, an arrangement he honors like an oath.

Every so often, when you feel lethal bitterness kindling, you are struck by the inspiration to find Aemond’s Ouija board. It must be here in the White House someplace, but you can’t figure out where. You search the bedrooms, rummage through closets, climb into the oak cabinets beneath bathroom sinks; you scrabble around like a rodent under the cover of darkness while Aemond is away on state visits and campaign rallies for fellow Democrats. Maybe he makes secret stops in Tacoma or Seattle. If he does, you don’t care. You’d rather Aemond be there than here.

In the spring of 1972, you find the Ouija board in a drawer of the Resolute desk, where Aemond conducts official business in the Oval Office. “Oh, that is insane,” you say to yourself as you slide it out. You mean to burn it in your bedroom fireplace, then think again. On the back of the board, the inscription has faded, as if traced by Aemond’s fingertips again and again.

If I destroy this, what will he do to Aegon and his children? What will he do to me?

You place the Ouija board back where you found it, slide the drawer shut, and crawl into bed, besieged by dreams of smoke and rum and the rumbling bass of Season Of The Witch.

Aemond’s national approval rating hovers between 55-70%—far about the historical average, although he never stops pining for an heir and proper first family to maximize his allure—until May of 1972, when the tide begins to turn. The treaty formally ending U.S. involvement in the war was signed back in early 1969, but the hasty troop withdrawal left capitalist South Vietnam vulnerable, and now it is being invaded by the communists backed by China and Russia. The Fall of Saigon is immortalized in the evening news, printed on the covers of newspapers; people who once collaborated with the Americans are shot dead in the streets. Refugees flee west to Laos and Cambodia and Thailand, east on makeshift rafts into the ocean. The few that Aemond manages to hurriedly admit into the U.S. inspire racism and xenophobia from suburbanites. Many of the hippies have grown up, had children, gotten jobs, settled down with credit cards and mortgages. Protestors march with signs out on Pennsylvania Avenue: America abandons her allies! Our global reputation is in peril! Will the communists invade here next? What did my son die for?

“They wanted me to end it,” Aemond marvels as he gazes out the White House windows. “They begged for me to end it, and now look at them. Ungrateful imbecile bastards.”

And you give him a rare piece of advice that he listens to: “You should call LBJ.”

On his ranch fifty miles outside of Austin, Texas, Lyndon Baines Johnson is dying of heart failure. Still, he smokes more or less constantly, and refuses to adhere to the diet Lady Bird fretfully lectures their chefs about. He has grown his grey hair long and sits for as many interviews as he can, desperate to salvage his legacy and remind people of the things he did right: civil rights legislation, the War On Poverty, rising from a poor farming family to the Oval Office. He knows exactly what it feels like to be hated for having no good options. He says gruffly through the phone: “The Vietnam War needed to end, Aemond. It had to happen. But someone has to pay for it, too. That’s your job now. Take the fall, and the country survives. Plenty of people still love you. And I’m proud of you, son. I know it ain’t easy, believe me. But I’m real proud.”

Still, Aemond fights. He can’t help it. It’s all he’s ever known.

He campaigns at a murderous pace, and you have to follow him across the nation. Perhaps intentionally, there are no campaign stops in Arizona. Aemond does very well, but Ronald Reagan does better; he’s quick and he’s cutting, but he’s also funny, and grandfatherly, and warm, and God knows the American people could use some of that after the past decade. He characterizes Aemond’s policy regarding Vietnam as “peace without honor.” He calls Aemond short-sighted about a dozen times, a jab his supporters guffaw at. He says the United States has surrendered its rightful place as the leader of the free world. His wife Nancy—his second wife—is vehemently opposed to recreational drugs and other supposed moral crimes including abortion and premarital sex. You hate her, and she hates you right back, though in a perfectly pleasant, ever-smiling, mid-century housewife sort of way. Reagan’s disciples call you a whore. Aemond gets the newspapers still loyal to him to publish scathing denials. You aren’t exactly sure why he does this; no comment at all would almost certainly be wiser politically, as Otto advises. But Aemond does it anyway, with deep trenches of violent determination knit into his scarred brow.

The 1972 presidential election is held on Tuesday, November 7th. It is not until the early hours of the morning on Wednesday the 8th that Aemond learns he has narrowly lost. It couldn’t possibly be construed as your fault; he wins Florida by a greater margin than he had in 1968. As the sun rises in a bright, cloudless sky, Aemond’s entourage clears out of the Lincoln Sitting Room, leaving the two of you alone with the droning television. Aemond is sipping an Old Fashioned on one end of the couch. You light yourself a Lucky Strike cigarette on the other. For once, Aemond doesn’t seem to mind.

“You know,” Aemond muses after a while. “Ronald Reagan is divorced.”

Your heart is racing; you aren’t sure what he’s offering. You’re petrified to say the wrong thing and change his mind. “Yeah, he is.”

Aemond nods, twirling his Old Fashioned so the ice cubes clink against the misty glass, not looking at you. “I think I’ll marry Alys and adopt the boy.”

And that’s how you learn that what Aegon said in the doorway of a hospital room four and half years ago was true, no impassioned declarations, no gratitude, only grudges that have grown quiet and cold and dormant. At last, Aemond is done with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Otto, glowering spitefully, getaway car procurement extraordinaire, hands you the keys to a green Chevy Nova. On the front steps of the White House, you say goodbye to a palpably heartbroken Nate. He gives you the notebook pages and greetings cards. You give him a kiss on the cheek, a parting stain of red lipstick. But instead of blood, the color makes you think of cherry-flavored Mr. Mistys, the Lucky Strike logo, roses, sunburn, firelight, the rust-hued earth of the desert. You duck into the Nova and start driving.

The East Coast unfolds into the Midwest and then turns jagged as you hit the Rocky Mountains. At a gas station in Albuquerque, New Mexico, you toss your remaining birth control pills—still squirreled away in a box of hollowed-out tampons—into a trash bin. At a McDonald’s in Asher, Arizona, just forty minutes outside of Yuma, you stop to get a large Coca-Cola and touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror: black eyeliner, gold shadow, both as heavy as you want them to be. You stroll back to your Nova under a radiant November sky that feels like summer, smiling to yourself. The hem of your roomy, floral skirt billows around your brown leather boots in the desert wind. Your earrings are small, glinting gold hoops. Your white tank top is simple and hand-crocheted, found at a yard sale in Amarillo, Texas; but your sunglasses are Bugatti, a gift from Ludwika.

You park outside the only school on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation and go inside to the front office. The secretary says distractedly: “Can I help you, ma’am?” Then she does a double take. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, do I…do I know you from somewhere…?”

“You might,” you say, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. It’s only shoulder-length now, but growing, and wild from the wind. “I was hoping to find Mr. Targaryen, does he still work here?”

“He sure does, but he doesn’t like anyone calling him that.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “Just Aegon then. Which classroom is…?”

But before you can finish your question, and before she can answer, you hear echoing through the labyrinthian hallways the start of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising, not just an acoustic guitar but bass and drums too.

“I see the bad moon a-risin’

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

The secretary laughs, keeping rhythm with taps of her pencil on her desk. “I guess you can find him on your own, can’t ya?”

Yes, you can. You follow the music through long empty corridors, wondering where all the students are. You drag your fingertips—black polish, chipped around the edges—along grooves in the cinder block walls that have been painted over with vibrant murals. The song is getting louder, and now you hear other noises too, an ocean of energetic voices and squealing chairs.

“I hear hurricanes a-blowin’

I know the end is comin’ soon

I fear rivers over flowin’

I hear the voice of rage and ruin

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise, alright!”

You step into the cafeteria, raucous with students swapping pudding cups and bags of chips. Many of them are watching the stage, clapping along, playing their own imaginary guitars. Aegon is there strumming the sparkling gold guitar you sent him for Christmas back in 1968. He hasn’t seen you yet; he’s grinning at the kids up on the stage with him—his fellow bandmates, his fledgling rockstars—and leaning back from the mic to give them pointers. But Cosmo has. He flies out of his seat and crashes into you, now nearly ten years old, long blonde hair, a Rolling Stones t-shirt.

“You’re back!” he bellows over the music as you hug him. Teachers chatting amongst themselves by the wall give you curious glances.

“Yeah, kiddo. I am.”

“For a visit?”

“Maybe for a little longer than that.”

“Yay!” he shouts, jumping up and down.

You look back to Aegon, and now his eyes catch on yours: instantaneous recognition, disbelief, amazement. He’s just like you remember him; he’s just like he is in your dreams. You raise an eyebrow and wave tentatively. His own words surface in your skull like swimming up through cool, sunlit water: What are we gonna do about it? And Aegon smiles, the god of light, music, healing, truth.

Now his tiny bandmates are yelling at him, irate. He’s still plucking at his guitar on autopilot, but he’s missed his cue to sing the last verse. He shakes off his astonishment and continues, beaming, watching you.

“Hope you got your things together

Hope you are quite prepared to die

Looks like we’re in for nasty weather

One eye is taken for an eye

Well don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Cosmo sprints back to his lunch to stop a friend from seizing his unguarded Ding Dongs.

“Don’t come around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Aegon gives his guitar a final few strums as the cafeteria erupts into cheers and applause. His bandmates bow to their audience as Aegon takes off his guitar, leaps down from the stage, runs to you as children twist in their seats to stare. He’s wearing khaki shorts, tan moccasins, a half-unbuttoned white shirt that actually fits him, dog tags with Daeron’s name on them. He’s so afraid to ask the question; he’s terrified you won’t say the right answer. “Io…what the hell are you doing here?”

You shrug, casual, teasing. “Didn’t like where I was. Thought I’d try someplace new.”

He touches your face to make sure you’re real, marveling at you, his voice going hushed. “We’ve lost so much time.”

“Don’t worry. Your life’s only half over.”

Aegon laughs, eyes shining. “I’m really, really looking forward to the rest of it.”

You can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses you; you can hear a quiet, kind melody that fills the universe, the sound of all the chains of gravity breaking and moons drifting free from their planets.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic

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laylainalaska · 6 months ago

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I rewatched 8x11 "Life Time" for Reasons and I leave you with Hawkeye being adorable hanging out with Charles in post-op.

I genuinely Do Not Get people who think they don't like each other because we've seen what it looks like when Hawkeye doesn't like people (see: Frank Burns) and it isn't this!!

Although tbh I will say that one thing that I was completely wrong about was that I thought they were more antagonistic to each other in the first half of the episode than they actually are. Welcome to my TED talk.

So I remembered being really annoyed with Charles early on in this episode (in my last watch of it, all of a month ago) because I thought he was being an insensitive jerk while Hawkeye was really suffering (he's holding the guy's aorta together with his hand! while they're pouring ice on him! he's in Pain!), although Charles gets it together later on with the blood transfusion.

But what I hadn't realized yet - not having seen enough episodes to figure this out - is that Hawkeye absolutely will tell Charles to shut up when Charles is genuinely annoying him, and Charles (usually) does.

But, in this episode, Hawkeye doesn't!! Because what Charles is doing here is distracting Hawkeye from the fact that he is cold, and miserable, and hurting and stressed. If Hawkeye wanted him to stop, he would just say so.

I like how you can see Charles, who is busy with another surgery, immediately tune in on Hawkeye as soon as they come in with Hawkeye's hand in the guy's chest, figure out what's happening, and then switch to Joking In The OR mode.

Again: if Hawkeye wanted him to shut up, he'd say so. We've seen him annoyed with Charles in past episodes, and this ain't it.

In fact, there's only one point in this episode when Hawkeye is genuinely angry with him. It's when Charles is looking at the patient with him, and Charles Charlessplains that Hawkeye is doing the surgery Wrong.

Charles tells him to just fix the aorta. Hawkeye, who is standing there holding it together with his hands, is visibly furious.

Charles: Patch it with one of the arterial grafts. Hawkeye *screaming internally*: Can't be done! Here's why!! (subtext: you Asshole)

And Charles looks down at the patient - and realizes he's right, and immediately backs down, at least for Charles versions of backing down.

Charles: I suggest you prepare for a graft. Hawkeye, who was planning this all along and just suggested it a minute ago: There's an idea.

And a minute later, they're back to joking and being warm with each other again.

Hawkeye: *snarks at him about how this is Charles's idea now, actually, so it better work* Charles: *rolls his eyes*

But the point is, Hawkeye doesn't just roll over and put up with Charles being a jerk in ways Hawkeye doesn't like. Hawkeye is in charge of the OR, and Hawkeye enforces that - he does it gently, but he definitely does it, and if Charles is joking around with him when Hawkeye is working or distracted, and Hawkeye doesn't completely cold-shoulder him or shut him down, it is because Hawkeye wants him to. Even at Hawkeye's expense, because being mutual assholes to each other is one of Hawkeye's love languages and he and Charles both get that about each other.

Charles isn't the only person who banters with Hawkeye throughout this entire sequence - Hawkeye absolutely welcomes distractions from BJ, the nurses, arguing with Margaret, Klinger barging in to talk about baklava and do a Colonel Potter impression: Hawkeye wants to be distracted, he doesn't want to stand around thinking about where his hands are or what's actually happening.

Even later, when he's doing the graft and Charles (completely flattened at this point due to giving blood) is attempting to unnecessarily talk him through it, Hawkeye tells him when he's being overly pedantic ("Charles, it won't be necessary to tell us the incredibly obvious. The merely obvious will do fine.") but he's not shutting him down; he's answering back, having Charles to bounce off of keeps him focused during the surgery, and not inconsiderably, gives Charles something to bounce off of in return, because Charles is doing something fairly uncomfortable and dangerous, too.

I looked up blood transfusion stats .... so apparently in normal circumstances, people are recommended to donate blood no more often than every 2 months. In the show, Charles says it's been five days since the last time. The human body has about 10.5 pints of blood ... So if he gave a pint a few days ago and another pint now, that's (almost) 20% of his total blood volume.

No wonder he passed out; even if they were trying to keep his blood volume up with fluids, he'd still be way down on red blood cells. Apparently losing 20% of your blood volume at once can send you into potentially life-threatening shock. It's actually dangerous!

It's more gradual than that with Charles (plus they're giving him fluids to compensate) but he's definitely going to need a little while to recover. Hawkeye may be sitting with him at the end there partly just to make sure he's okay!

Anyway, though, the point is, Charles is not inflicting his unwanted jerkiness on Hawkeye while Hawkeye is doing something else throughout the first half of this episode. Hawkeye likes distractions like that, he's having a shit day and literally holding this person's life in his hands and if he can just insult someone about grammar, it will give him something to focus on other than the fact that his hand really hurts

Just a reminder that what's going on during this scene is that people are literally pouring ice cubes on Hawkeye's hand, which he has been holding in the same position, clamping a guy's aorta shut, for the last 15 minutes.

If Hawkeye didn't want this to be happening, he would not be participating in it! This kind of thing literally keeps him sane. And considering that Charles spends the first half of the episode working on a patient, it's the only way he can help when Hawkeye is in distress in front of him.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#mash #mash 4077 #hawkeye pierce #charles emerson winchester iii #b.j. hunnicutt #meta #s8e11lifetime #hawkchester #charhawk #long post

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astrogre · 2 years ago

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What gifts to buy for each Venus sign

Christmas is among us, my favourite season and time of the year. Venus is the planet of love, by nature it can display what we like to receive from others but if you don’t know their Venus or the house it’s in you can try to look at the persons Sun sign instead but Venus is ideal.

A gift based on their:

Sun sign will make them feel seen and like you know them well, it will be a gift they may appreciate

Venus sign is all they’ve ever desired it’s the pinnacle of their ideal gift. Especially as Venus represents how we like to receive and experience love

Aries/ 1H Venus

Gym membership, running shoes, thrill seeking experiences like tickets to bungee jumping, rock climbing, a skydiving event, gym outfit, tickets to their favourite artist, tickets to festival, cool lighter, archery classes, tickets to sports games, a shirt with their teams logo or merch from their favourite artists, scissors set, cooking tools, hair styling products like hairspray, hair dye, Fitbit/apple watch, knives set, sports gear, heavy bass headphones, tickets for those room smashing experiences, take them clay pigeon shooting, family destroying board games like Risk or Catan, diy tattoo kit, diy piercing kit, theme park tickets.

Aries Venus are by nature thrill seekers, Aries is ruled by the head and has 1st house influences, they can certainly appreciate something that ignites passion, they are impulsive and quick by nature to pursue what they desire. They need gifts that match their decisive nature and to let out that pent up energy they have in them, I honestly think experiences are the best for them. Or a box of hair dye for their impulsive moments

Taurus/ 2H Venus

Hire a chef or take them to a really good restaurant for a 5 course meal that serves orgasmic food and has impeccable visuals/atmosphere OR you can even arrange a 7 course homemade meal with the finest of recipes! , fine jewellery adorned with a gemstone, culinary experiences, cooking classes, kitchenware, go to fragrantica.com and find a high quality perfume to give, premium home decor, art, antique items, antique furniture, comfortable cosy clothing, hot water bottle, gardening tools, plants, selection of seeds for their garden, diffuser, essential oils, desserts like baklava/ferro rocher, luxury goods, wellness retreat subscription, day at the spa, tea set, comfy velvet winter pillows and bed sheets

Oh my Taurus natives, they know how to break a bank for Christmas and if not they can enjoy luxury on a budget! They enjoy the finer things of life of course Venus ruled, they know how to induge in pleasures and satisfaction. Due to the earthy influence they have a green finger and a natural affinity with plants and gardening, they may love flowers or want to grow plants themselves. Taurus venuses are rather easy to gift, if you know them they usually have a vice, it may be sleep, food or pure laziness, get them something according to their vice and they will treasure it.

Gemini/ 3H Venus

Really cool stationary, Spotify subscription, comedy show tickets, books from their favourite genre, a notebook, Grammarly subscription, cards against humanity board game, Duolingo subscription, multiplayer games, home kit recording studio, language learning stuff, calligraphy classes, kindle, portable car charger, Bluetooth speaker, karaoke machine, suitcase, travel accessories, a musical instrument, sealing wax kit, creative hobby supplies, microphone, podcasting equipment, audio editing software, a car, vr headset, Nintendo online subscription, Netflix/HBO/youtube/crunchyroll subscription

Gemini rules communication, short journeys and social engagement. Blessing these natives with tools to enhance their pleasant hobbies will make them swoon in gratitude, if you want to get them something make it engaging and whimsical. These natives are ruled by mercury and always welcome something that requires the mind.

Cancer/ 4H Venus

A cooking set, baking set, comfort food, commission artwork of the family, family photos, some really nice home decor, a keepsake/musical box adorned with velvets and soft materials that will store sentimental objects, a locket necklace, family recipe book make a recipe book of all their favourite foods and some foods you know they’d like, soft fluffy blanket, the family heirloom, hand crafted quilt, hand painted ceramic mug, animal crossing game, sims 4 game, games relating to the home, bring and fly in family that are far away as a surprise and cook their favourite meal together, household utilities, lush bath products, a personal chef for a day, a personal butler for a day, custom family tree art, ancestry DNA kit (please be careful though once you use them they keep your data and if they get hacked your information is out there), home movie night, comfy slippers and pyjamas, family board games, this christmas make them Christmas dinner this time.

Cancer rules the home and there’s nothing more appreciated by a cancer Venus than things that remind them of this. They are by nature expressive and nurturing, this time let them be pampered!

Leo/ 5H Venus

Hair care products, gift card for their favorite store, make them an edit no joke like a TikTok edit that makes them look really cool, one of those light up mirrors or a pretty handheld one if they don’t have one already, book them a photoshoot together if they don’t like the camera maybe post them on your social media and show affection for these bold natives, theatre tickets, bold sunglasses, luxury watch, good jewellery, VIP experiences like backstage passes or reservation to exclusive invite only restaurants, designer clothing that is a prestigious brand they love, commission style artwork, make them a playlist of songs that reminds you of them, fine wine, personalised fragrance creation that allows them to create their own signature fragrance, personalised makeup makeover, hire a stylist for them

A perfect gift for Leo’s need to have an element of self expression, luxury and incorporate their personality that garners attention from peers. They need a gift that makes them feel special, something tailored specifically for them that cannot be gifted to anyone else. Personalised gifts do well either this placement too. When I think of these natives I just think of that Meghan Trainor music video “Me Too” watch that and you’ll get their vibe.

Virgo/ 6H Venus

Skincare products, a blender for smoothies, lots of cleaning products, multi purpose aesthetic storage containers, Quora or chat gpt subscription (these guys like to be well informed), give them scientifically researched bath products that have all that vitamin breakdown qualities, make them a notion template to help them plan, quality office supplies like a desk organiser or chair, practical fitness gear like a yoga mat, a fitness tracker, get them a personal nutritionist, tailored meal prep services, bookshelf organiser system, a stylish briefcase, home office makeover (BUT PLEASE GET THEIR PERMISSION FIRST), online course subscription, digital subscription to news feed, you can never go wrong with practical things, an ikea haul, Costco membership, minimalist decor, multi vitamins, a precision watch, set of labelling and sorting tools, a neat tidy chess board, get them a nice little pet, honestly for some reason whenever I think of Virgos I think of matcha. Get them something matcha based.

Virgo Venus natives need gifts that resemble their routine and organisation, they can be rather difficult to purchase for since they have such a specific taste in mind. Gift cards are practical for them but they really need something that allows them to be more prepared. Take them out for comparison price shopping like say if you want to get them a sofa tell them you’ll take them out to Costco, Amazon, ikea, and compare the best ones. They are also very clean and efficient.

Libra Venus/ 7H Venus

Trending Make up like the fenty hot chocolit heat lip gloss, Korean skincare products, beautiful piece of art, a wedding ring 😏, bouquet of flowers, take them to a beautiful botanical garden, fashionable accessories like a silk scarf, books and courses on design, take them to a couples romantic date, a couples workshop, write them a love letter, museum date, tickets to an art exhibition, fine dining, an astrology synastry reading, if they’re single set up a blind date with someone who you KNOW they would like (make sure they’re handsome/pretty), couples retreat, love coach Patreon subscription, pottery/painting classes, relationship podcast subscription, relationship psychology books, fine fragrance/cologne

Libra is ruled by Venus and 7th house, all things related to love beauty and pleasure align with this native, even if they are single they have a natural gift for delving into relationships. Make sure that whatever gift you give them it is pleasing and sensual

Scorpio/ 8H Venus

Intimate gifts, a psychological crime documentary playlist like Epstein island documentary or YouTubers who speak of renowned cult leaders, personalised astrology reading, a dark seductive fragrance, dark artwork, dominance and submission guide book, shadow work journal with a lock on it, dark poetry and literature, escape room adventure tickets, monopoly game, dungeons and dragons game equipment, bdsm accessories, personalised erotic art, leather/latex clothing, bonding activities, empowering books like 48 Laws of Power, martial arts training, taxidermy, personal development workshops, intense workout equipment like a punching bag, chess, daggers, locks on their door or for their belongings like installing a lock for their drawers, buy them a ring camera and subscription, wine tasting experience

Give them something sultry and deep, it has to be psychological and empowering. They are not impressed by superficial gifts that mean nothing to them. They really like gifts that allow them to explore their nature and the darker aspects of existence.

Sagittarius/ 9H Venus

A scratch off map that allows you to scratch off countries you’ve been to, a surprise holiday where you take them abroad, Duolingo subscription, a wanderlust journal for them to document their experiences, passport accessories, an electric guitar, drums, take them to a fireworks display or do one at home for them, a telescope, a drone, binoculars, philosophical books or religious books based on their own beliefs and religion, running shoes, horse riding in the sunset experience, musical instruments, motivational and positive affirmations book or make some for them yourself, a book collection of all their motivational and positive messages they have said, a compass, pay for their tuition for a course they’ve always wanted, traveling stuff like suitcases, pillow for travelling, a portable flask, a disposable camera, a Polaroid camera, a tent, tickets to a cultural festival, hiking gear, skiing gear, camping gear, sketchbook, a donation in their name

Sagittarius Venus and 9H venuses love the concept of exploration whether it be in the mind or physically, the best gift you could give them is one that allows them to take in so much culture, information and experiences.

Capricorn/ 10H Venus

Customisable credit card (CUCU is a good site for this), a nice power suit like business attire, vintage pocket calculator, cufflinks or a tie, formal shoes, pay for their CV to be analysed by professionals in their industry, elegant timeless clothing and jewellery, make them business cards, get them a corporate slave (an assistant will do), pay for business class flights for their next trip abroad, project management courses, tickets to Ted Talk event, take them to and big them up at networking and entrepreneurial opportunities, a sleek desk, submit their work for trophies and awards, quality furniture, Starbucks or their fave coffee place gift cards, a fountain pen, personalised desk name plate, professional photoshoot, designer accessories like a Swiss watch, leather wallet, cheque book, pay for a professional calligrapher to design their signature, time management software

Our sweet cap Venuses and 10Hers need their professional acknowledgment, give them anything timeless and a way for them to better themselves. They love being the best of the best so give them things that support their ambitions.

Aquarius/ 11H Venus

A 3D printer, high tech phone, a gamer console, smart home device like Alexa, chat gpt subscription, AI art pieces of them, rubix cube, VR headset, bespoke one of a kind art piece, tickets to a science technology conference or musem, networking events, phone case, futuristic home decor, membership to an niche club their interested in, mini indoor garden like a plant terrarium, pay for an astronomy stargazing experience for them, alt clothing, goal setting journal, a camaraderie for their friendships can be a bracelet for an example, tickets to a unique workshop according to their niche interests, video editing software, a unique invention prototype for the industry their interested in say if it were cars then a mini Tesla or something, volunteer together, design software, film festival tickets, social cause merchandise, unique fashion piece, astronomy kit, an AI boyfriend or girlfriend, take them a Ted talk.

Always remember the specific niche interests of these natives they like things that are very niche and so sometimes asking them is actually the best thing to do. But make sure it’s something they’re passionate about not all of these natives live tech but they certainly are innovative.

Pisces/ 12H Venus

Seashell necklace, watercolour paints, fantasy book collection, their favourite mangas, handmade artwork, stained glass window art, dream interpretation book, flowerpedia book, vinyls, yoga mat, contact lenses, tickets to their favourite artist like mitski or the sort, create a playlist for them that’s about fantasy and imagination, they might like Disney consider taking them to Disneyland, windchime, subscription to mindfulness app, astrology book, go to the aquarium together, windchimes, art supplies, a dream journal, sound healing instruments, pay for their spiritual retreat, zen garden decor, a mystical music box, water fountain, take them to a mesmerising body of water, prayer mats, diary, write them a heartfelt letter of how amazing they are, take them to a nature retreat, wearable art

Dreamy imaginative gifts would be perfect for these people, they need gifts that allow them to appreciate their escape world where they have a reality that’s just better than here. Give them things that are as beautiful as their inner world.

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ducksido · 3 months ago

Note

OOh can I please request an arab!reader. I just know that they would be besties with everyone from Scarabia (especially Kalim and Jamil) and they would speak Arabic with them like it's their secret language and talk about how their cultures are similar

(Yippee I love cuture!yuu requests)

General Reactions

Grim:

“Wait, you know Arabic too? That’s a whole different language!”

Completely fascinated when Yuu starts speaking in Arabic, but then super confused when it’s a language full of rapid-fire phrases.

"You really talk like that to Kalim? You both sound like you’re rubbing it in each other’s faces!"

The NRC Student Body:

“You speak what now? Is that a whole language?”

Impressed when Yuu teaches them some Arabic phrases, but immediately embarrassed when they butcher it.

Some students are low-key jealous about the fact Yuu has a secret language with Kalim and Jamil.

Crowley:

“Arabic? I must admit, I’ve never studied that! How fascinating!”

Pretends to understand a word or two. Yuu immediately calls him out for mangling the language. "Ah, it’s harder than I thought!"

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

“Wait—so there’s an entirely different alphabet? That’s incredibly… sophisticated.”

Wants to learn proper etiquette from Arabic culture, especially the concept of hospitality. “You make guests feel like family?” Impressed.

Ace Trappola:

“Yo, you know how to swear in Arabic too? Teach me!”

Mimics a couple of Arabic words, but gets them way wrong. “Wait, did I just ask you to marry me?”

Loves hearing Yuu tell stories about Arabic traditions and celebrations like Eid and Ramadan.

Deuce Spade:

“Wait, you’re telling me your culture celebrates that kind of stuff? That sounds amazing!”

So fascinated by Yuu’s Arabic family traditions, they ask a million questions about family dynamics and hospitality.

Eager to impress by learning simple phrases in Arabic. “I got this! ‘As-salamu alaykum’, right?” (Nailed it.)

Trey Clover:

“Arabic food? You’ve got to be kidding. I have to try that.”

Loves learning about Arabic desserts like baklava and kunafa. Offers to make them as a thank-you for helping him learn a bit of the language.

Notices how Yuu’s culture values food as a connection and respects that deeply. “I see the importance of sharing meals with loved ones.”

Cater Diamond:

“Wait—what’s that word again? Mashallah? You say it when someone looks good?”

Excited to use Arabic phrases on Magicam to sound more worldly but only ends up getting it half-right. “Did I use it in the right context?”

Always asking Yuu to share Arabic memes and comparing them to what he’s seen in the UAE.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

“Eh… You talk too much in that language.”

Pretends he doesn’t care when Yuu starts speaking in Arabic, but lowkey impressed by how the language flows when Yuu and Kalim talk.

“I don’t know how you guys use that so easily…” (But secretly respects how deeply ingrained the language and culture are in their identities.)

Ruggie Bucchi:

“So, you’re telling me you have a whole different way of saying ‘hello’?”

Loves to hear Yuu speak Arabic—especially the short phrases and greetings. “Your culture’s lit. You guys even know how to throw shade properly.”

They both bond over family dynamics and discuss how hospitality is just as important in their cultures.

Jack Howl:

“Your words feel like… like you’re speaking with your whole body.”

Completely entranced by the cadence of the language when Yuu speaks. He’s so curious about Arabic poetry and how it translates to their culture.

Very respectful of Yuu’s culture and wants to learn more about how Arabic connects with different parts of their life, from food to religion.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

Sees potential for a business partnership with Yuu’s knowledge of Arabic. “Hmm, this could be a very profitable market indeed.”

Is intrigued by the intricacies of Arabic but feels slightly left out when Yuu and Kalim speak in their shared language. “Well, I suppose I can learn a few phrases to keep up with you both.”

Respects Yuu’s grounded values and draws parallels between Arabic customs and his own family’s values of loyalty.

Jade Leech:

Intrigued by the sound of Arabic—the unique flow and mystery of the language.

Fascinated by how fluidly Yuu and Kalim communicate in a shared tongue, and often tries to mimic a few phrases, albeit awkwardly.

Finds cultural similarities in the way hospitality is practiced in both cultures. “Ah, I see, so this is how you show respect in your culture.”

Floyd Leech:

“Oh, so you guys are secretly talkin’ smack about me in Arabic, huh? I don’t blame you!”

Loves the chaos and energy that comes with Arabic expressions. “Can I curse in Arabic too? It’s gotta sound way better, right?”

Picks up on the playful side of Arabic—especially when Yuu and Kalim are teasing each other.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

“I’m so happy I can speak Arabic with you! It’s like we’re family, huh?”

Constantly calls Yuu his “bestie” and gets excited every time they exchange phrases. Secretly loves that they have a shared language that connects them.

Totally on board with discussing cultural similarities—whether it's food, tradition, or family values. “Your family does this too? That’s so cool! We should do it at my place!”

Jamil Viper:

“You speak Arabic fluently. That’s a pleasant surprise. You’re practically a part of my family now.”

Admires how easily Yuu can switch between languages, especially the way they convey their respect for tradition.

Feels at ease when Yuu talks about Arabic culture and compares it with his own upbringing. They often share stories about family dynamics and how both cultures emphasize respect and responsibility.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

Completely blown away by the fact that Yuu is fluent in Arabic.

“So... you guys have your own way of calling people ‘cool’ and ‘weird’ in Arabic? That’s awesome!”

Curious about Arabic pop culture, especially Arabic video games and their deep connection to traditions. He’s secretly hoping Yuu can introduce him to new things.

Ortho Shroud:

“Wow, your language sounds like it has so much character to it!”

Excitedly asks Yuu to teach him a few simple phrases like “Good morning” and “How are you?” but gets it all wrong.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

“Ah, how intriguing... this language of yours feels so deep, almost mystical.”

Fascinated by the history and culture behind Arabic and enjoys hearing Yuu speak, especially about ancient traditions.

Respects the weight of Arabic culture—the history, the mythology, and the ties it has to his own kingdom.

Lilia Vanrouge:

“Oh, I love how you say everything with such passion!”

Shares stories of his own homeland and compares them to Arabic folktales—Yuu appreciates the similarities between the two.

Silver:

Surprised at how well Yuu explains Arabic traditions and rituals.

Very calm and respectful when Yuu shares family stories and the importance of those traditions. He’s always intrigued by Yuu’s connection to their heritage.

Sebek Zigvolt:

“So this language—is this what your people speak? How interesting.”

Wants to be a part of their cultural discussions but doesn’t always understand all the subtleties of Arabic, even when it’s explained to him.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

“So you speak with the same grace in Arabic as you do in English?”

Impressed by Yuu’s deep understanding of both languages, especially the elegant way they express themselves.

Noticed how Arabic has a connection to elegance, much like his own ideals of beauty.

Epel Felmier:

“Wait, you mean to say you know how to speak fluent Arabic? That’s a skill!”

Is immediately fascinated by the complex language but struggles with the pronunciation. He still enjoys the challenge.

Rook Hunt:

“Ah, you are a master of language, are you not? The rhythm of Arabic is like music to my

Event Characters

Rollo Flamme

A bit cautious when Yuu speaks Arabic, unsure of what they’re saying, but still respects it as a part of their identity.

“Arabic, you say? How fascinating… I must admit, I don’t know much about it. However, I respect any language that carries such weight and history.”

Intrigued by the deeper meanings of Arabic expressions but prefers to keep his interactions more formal when Yuu uses their native tongue.

Meleanor

Quietly observant when Yuu speaks Arabic, sensing the warmth and strength the language holds.

“It’s… beautiful. There’s a certain rhythm and passion in the way you speak that reminds me of the heart of a story.”

Appreciates the depth and complexity of the language, quietly asking Yuu about the significance of certain words or expressions.

Young Lilia

Enthusiastically fascinated by the sound of Arabic, especially how the language flows when spoken.

“Oh ho, what a lively language you’ve got there! It has so much spice to it!”

Loves learning words or phrases from Yuu and often repeats them with a dramatic flair, though he might sometimes butcher them for comedic effect.

RSA

Chenya:

Super intrigued and excited by the sound of Arabic, especially the rhythm and playfulness of the language.

“Wait, wait—teach me how to say this! I bet I can make it sound just as cool as you.”

Loves learning a few phrases in Arabic, especially the swear words, and often tries to use them in a playful way, though it always sounds more adorable than intimidating.

Is especially curious about the relationship between Yuu and Kalim, wanting to know more about the shared cultural dynamics and how their friendship is intertwined with their language and upbringing.

Neige:

Impressed and deeply moved by the beauty of Arabic when Yuu speaks it.

“Oh my, the way you say things… It’s like music! I’ve never heard a language so full of grace and elegance.”

Tries to learn some basic Arabic phrases from Yuu, but his pronunciation is a bit too proper, making it sound almost too formal or exaggerated. He’s eager to show respect to Yuu’s culture, but sometimes ends up sounding like a character from an old fairy tale.

#twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twst yuu #twst incorrect quotes #twst headcanons #culture!yuu #arab #arab!yuu

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uknowmesblog · 11 months ago

Text

Ah, ah, I am an awful person for taking so long to write again.

Guilty as charged, I had a hell of week and It's still going strong. Pray for my soul, I have flour in my nose.

!!TW!!

FOUL language, kind off groping/pawing. Soft punisment. Virgin Reader. (I m a sucker for this trope and I won't be sorry)

No minors pls, I can't deal with this.

Also, does anyone know how to do a materialist? I m not the smartest 🤓

Oh what a debriefing it was, hands on you all the time. Small whispers almost passed without a second thought, your pussy literally weeping every time Johnny threw one of his panty-melting smile. You left the space dizzy, barely remembering where is that damned room you we're assigned, your mind a battle ground between hating the situation you are in and enjoying all the attention you could get.

Male attention wasn't a thing in your life, your dad scarring them like he was a rabid dog. No one will touch the daughter of a high military rank man, risking to dissappear like dust in wind out of nowhere.

And when you grew up? Your mind was already made, you would grow old with lots of cats and maybe a parrot just for the effect. Lost was the idea of even a fuck, your virginity now collecting dust figuratively.

Now two men, three if you take in consideration Price who's smirking from time to time, gave you more attention and more touches than you could register in your slow mind. (If you'll have awareness, you would count four.)

"Jesus christ" You sighed, closing your door and resting your forehead against it, cool wood taking the edge off a bit. After diner you had plans, something soft for your first night ready. Nothing scandalous, just taking a break.

═════ ◈ ═════

Dinner passed fast, you had some kind chicken and mashed potatoes. Good enough to not starve, you almost had a tantrum over the fact there wasn't dessert but one glare from Ghost had you bite your tongue. His baklava rised over his nose, scarred full lips staying flat as you glared at your food.

You listened as everyone was moving around their rooms until silence enveloped the whole space and you gracefully tiptoed outside, finding a spot concealed in shadows under the full moon.

It's cold, your fingers tightened around the pack of smokes as you seated yourself on some sort of decorative rock. A military base with decorative rocks, making you snort as your lips wrapped around a cigarette. You didn't smoke in a while, deciding is way too expensive and your budget was tight as a nun's ass. But now you had enough to live off a while, maybe two months at best.

Your new salary sounds good on paper, but it is worthy to risk your whole life for extra money? You don't have an answer as you look at the sky, lips puffin a cigarette. Your eyes fall on your phone, distracted by the sound of it, not hearing the silent men with a skull baklava approaching you.

One palm wrapped around your mouth, the other gripping your wrist making you drop your phone on the floor.

"Shh, it's jus' me" He whispered, hot breath fanning against your neck. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold on you. You huffed annoyed, his low and raspy chuckle making you shiver.

"You are such an annoying little doll, aren't you?" His hand leave your mouth, wrapping around your throat. "So mouthy, so bratty" his hand travelled further down, making your breath hitch.

"Now keep it nice and quiet for me luv, your punishment will be easy tonight"

His fingers cupped your cunt over your pants, making you yelp and trash. He slapped it twice stopping you yelp, stopping all the movements.

"Stay still, you won't want Johnny to hear you, he will be between these pretty thighs s'fast you will cum before even thinking about it."

Your eyes rolled back, his fingers dropping under your waistband and finding your dripping pussy welcoming all hot and bothered.

One finger gingerly rubbing your clit, your breath coming out panting. This is so wrong, deep in your mind you know this is power imbalance and he shouldn't be doing this.

You should stop this, you should cry for help.

But a depraved part in you it's enjoying the way his fingers are working you higher and higher, so close to -

"No, not tonight ' He retreated himself so fast, like you are burning and he just got some of it.

"W-what?" You blinked, confused and worked up.

"Good girls receive pleasure, brats receive the punishment. " The audacity of this man, made you open your mouth instantly.

"Isn't like I can touch myself?"

"You could do that and receive a worde punishment " He looked at you with that impassive face, the only thing showing his sick pleasure it's the bulge that was showing off a lil too much.

"And trust me I will now" He grunted, tilting his head.

"You can't be serious, you can't just ban masturbating"

"Watch me, if you want me to finish what I started, you can beg tomorrow on your knees." He turned around, leaving you flustered and confused. Red cheeks, eyes ready to shed tears and a pussy leaking wetness ready to be stuffed.

Your plan just backfired, you need to find something new thats sure!

@brxghtlxghtz @niresenrab @nes-kopi @chickennn-soupp @clear-your-mind-and-dream

Its short ik ik, Don't kill me.

I had some time today at work and I said why not? I need a break from life.

#soap #call of duty x y/n #ghoap x reader #141 x reader #captain john price #ghostsoap reader #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #gaz garrick #ghost cod #call of duty

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magspy · 3 months ago

Text

OC Tag Game

I was tagged by @ndostairlyrium ✨Thank you so much<3 and consider yourself tagged back (only if you want to ofc)

I'm also tagging: @alienturnip, @wizardhecker and @auphelia

I'm using this chance to properly introduce a "newer" character and NPC from the dnd campaign I run. His design is still a work in progress, but I felt like talking about him anyways<3

Name: Caspian Amari

Alias: "New Olamn's Siren", "Professor Amari", "the manwhore" (affectionately by my dnd group)

Gender: Cis male

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual, demiromantic

Age: Early 30s

Spoken language: Common, Sylvan, Elven and Alzhedo

Occupation: Teacher at the New Olamn Bard College of Waterdeep (History and Written Verse)

Favorite...

Color: Seagreen and gold

Entertainment: Enjoys attending concerts, parties, etc. (preferably with company or with company afterwards)

Pastime: Reading, preparing for class, testing out his students' compositions at home (since he's not allowed to sing on campus), the occasional hook up

Food: Eats like a bird, but really enjoys sweets. Mandolato, Chebakia and Baklava are all favorites. The more sugary the better. Fresh and dried fruits are also welcome though

Drink: Mint tea or avocado juice

Have they...

Passed University: He has the DnD equivalent of a PhD in classical music studies

Had Sex: Yes

Had Sex in Public: Not recently, but still yes

Gotten Tattoos: No

Gotten Piercings: Yes, though he'd probably have to get them redone by now.

Gotten Scarred: Nothing major. Up to the events of the campaign, he's lived a pretty safe life

Had a Broken Heart: Yes

Been in Love: Yes, but he ended up doubting whether those feelings were returned authentically

Are they...

A Cuddler: Not really

Scared Easily: I wouldn't call him brave, but he can keep his calm rather well. If he's nervous, it at least won't show under most circumstances. He'll absolutely be as dramatic as needed though if he feels like his current partner enjoys being a bit protective.

The events at the gala were probably the first time he's felt genuinely terrified

Jealous Easily: He rarely sticks around long enough to develop feelings, so it hasn't been a problem

Trustworthy: There are some lingering fey characteristics at play here and while he probably can, Caspian doesn't generally lie. He's not always the most straightforward, but he doesn't try to obfuscate his intentions. What you see is what you get

Family

Parents/Siblings: Caspian is an only child. His father is an elven architect that gets to largely work on passion projects thanks to his wife's steep income.

Caspian's mother is a famous diva and actual siren. As a rule, the venues that host her are required to install seatbelts.

Caspian and her's relationship is a bit strained since she had rather specific ideas for his future.

Children: Not something he's planning to have.

Pets: The most talkative and needy oriental longhair. His name is Adagio.

His family home also kept peacocks in the garden, although they were there more as something ornamental than something to be loved

#magspy dnd characters #Magspy rambles #Ask meme #oc: Caspian

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gemsofgreece · 9 months ago

Note

Hey, question: what are your thoughts on baklava? Is it turkish or greek?

It's not a matter of opinion, it's a matter of facts and the lack of them. The answer to this is normally an one-liner but I would like to give some context because there are foreign people out there who don't understand these feuds.

The one-liner is that the origins of the baklava are unknown.

Now the context: It is funny that what you will constantly hear is the "turkish vs greek" discourse when in actuality baklava is a traditional pastry in at least a dozen more countries in the Balkans, the Middle East and South Caucasus. The reason the discourse always zooms in in these two countries is because of their historically tense relations, which makes nationalists from these places channel their frustrations even in the pettiest of topics. Another reason is that this is a region which has nurtured numerous multi-ethnic empires but Turkey and Greece are the countries which are typically the most connected to these imperial pasts.

We do not know who the cook who came up with the baklava in the Ottoman empire was or to which of the various ethnic communities of the empire they belonged. We know for a fact that baklava's name is Turkish because this was the official language of the empire. Some turkish nationalists treat the turkish name as proof but this is not a good enough reasoning in an imperial context because everything is almost always popularised via the first language of an empire. With the same reasoning, we could say that since the basis of the baklava is the phyllo (filo) dough which is a Greek word, then baklava is a turkish sweet that is half-Greek because it has a Greek basis? These things are unserious.

We also do not know whether that first cook in the Ottoman Empire created the pastry out of thin air or was heavily inspired or was copying a pastry that was already a known delicacy in these regions before the establishment of the Ottoman Empire. Actually, we know that there was a suspiciously way too similar pastry in the Byzantine Empire, named "koptoplakýs¨, a Greek name corresponding to the official language of the Byzantine Empire. We still don´t know if koptoplakys was purely a Greek recipe or it was first made by one of the other Byzantine ethnic groups or it was also inspired by something else prior to it. Several speculations place the origins of baklava and that of koptoplakys to a variety of regions, such as Ancient Greece, Armenia, the Assyrian Empire and more.

The point is that since all these regions of the Balkans, Anatolia and the Middle East were parts of empires, various ethnicities cohabitating in the same place, in the same ecosystem with the same produce, even if this coexistence was not exactly dreamy, it is natural that all these people pretty much ate similar or the same foods and such foods with "controversial" origins are genuinely part of their culinary heritage. There's no "stealing" when it comes to regular everyday things massively consumed by people living together. It's a pastry. It's not some sacred, religious or national symbol. It's a pastry, traditional and with historical presence throughout most of the Eastern Mediterranean.

Like Farya Faraji correctly says, if anything, the differences were regional and not national, since nation states are a very recent development in world history. Meaning, all these countries make the baklava but you may notice slight differentiations in each country / region's version. The standard Turkish baklava is made with pistachios. The standard Greek baklava is made with walnuts. A baklava I had in Montenegro had a lot of lemon zest in it, which definitely is not a thing in Greece. Spices can vary too.

Also, sometimes there is so much discourse about dishes with the same name when in fact the dishes are not even the same. For example, turkish and greek moussakas, another huge discourse, are literally two different dishes!

Turkish mussaka:

Greek mussaka:

(Needless to say various types of mussakas are present throughout the aforementioned regions as well, again.)

"Yes but the similarities" the similarities can be found in literally all neighbouring regions in the world, let alone in places where different ethnicities have been crammed upon each other in empires for centuries. It's inescapable and you sometimes merge so much you cannot tell who started what. (Unless in cases when we DO know thanks to documented history. Then it's a HUGE no-no to confuse or conflate different neighbouring cultures. This is often very important when it comes to actually serious things like languages, religions, historical incidents instead of... nuts and doughs.)

If you are concerned what you should define it as, simply say "I'm having an x style baklava", x being whichever nation you're getting the pastry or the recipe from. Hope that helped.

#food #history #culinary history #world cuisines #mediterranean cuisine #middle eastern cuisine #greco turkish relations #greek cuisine #anon #ask #long text #ottoman empire #byzantine empire #assyrian empire

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a-rooks-true-justice · 4 months ago

Text

< Should I have ever trusted you? Or trusted anyone I've have once knew? >

< Have you always seen me as a monster? Just like I did you? >

< Has anyone in this world, ever actually trusted a word I have ever said? >

< Not even my Family, Not even my Friends, Not even those who gave me this false freedom. >

< Forever seen as a Traitor, By all those I once knew. Should have keept my word and promise. >

< I miss you. My only ever Friend. >

SUBJECT_CLASSIFICATION: Proditor Omnibus

SUBJECT_CODENAME: Rook "Star Glitcher"

SUBJECT_NAME:[ERROR: Files Deleted. Find it out yourself.]

█████ █████ ████████, Referred by many as "Rook" or "Star Glitcher", is a █████ ████ that rebelled against the █████ ██████, being the one responsible for the death of █████ ███████ █████████, His ██████. Now sided with the ██████████ ██████, He became the Leader of the of said faction years after the War ended, ending up leading the faction to use against supernatural forces, exploiters, and anyone who could threaten to bring back the █████ ██████.

"Rook" will be seen most of the time wearing a grey military uniform with golden details, A commander cap, and a baklava. He has a X Scar on his face, light grey skin and █████ ████. Once in battle mode, shards in the format of a wing will float behind him, having a blue and purple gradient color, with his main weapons being two reinforced and enchanted harpoons.

"Rook" will often act hostile towards people who are not from ██████████ ██████. Actively attacking and trying to kill any who he deems as "A Possible Threat".

WARNING: Mentions of Guest 1337, Matt Huelquin, Guest ███, █████ ████, █████████ ████, Will cause "Rook" to become aggravated. With mentions of ████ ███████ causing immediate aggression and high levels of hostility. Caution is to be advised.

INTERACTION_GUIDELINES:

1. Use of Sexual, Offensive, Or/And Use of any material that could be classified as "Not Safe for Work" is strictly Prohibited.

2. Use if any inadequate language, Such as Slurs, Are forbidden of being used while in work hours.

If any of these Guidelines are broken. You will be Terminated from the Company. (Blocked)

The person responsible for this documents is @jestervsm, They may be refereed as "Mod"

"Mod" will leaves messages often in messages and they will be displayed as:

// This.

#This

"Rook" has a echoing voice, with a constant hostile and commandatory tone.

Having a deep, and powerful voice.

-> ´´This displays his speech.´´

-> This display small actions during speech.

Whenever an Action is occurs, or a noise is heard. It will be described in a different format.

Actions will be described like this and what not.

<[Blogs affiliated with This one]>

<<Headcanons List>>

#Constellation

We always used to sit back and stare at the stars, they were so pretty, so shiny, so lovely.

She would laugh when pointing out the constellations, explaining to me their names, I would laugh too, the names were so funny to hear.

I miss being able to see the stars.

But now the Skies are clear.

(Answering Asks)

#A Star-Faring Game of Chess

I was never good at chess, never will be, yet she tried to get me to understand how to play it, we played a lot, she would always win.

But she could have won much more, if she didn't allow me to move on and win.

I wish I could have moved on.

(RP/Text Reblog)

#Placeholder

Bla bla bla, Ima think of lore for this later

(RP/Text Thread End)

#Passion from The Stars

I always used to expect a lovely meal to end a day, her cooking was spetacular made my mouth water.

I wish she showed me how to do her recipes, just so everybody could taste her beauty.

But its too later now.

It has always been too late.

(Text Posts/Events/Ask Bait)

#Placeholder

Bla bla bla, Ima think of lore for this later

(Art Sharing)

CREDITS

Dividers by @/strangergraphics, @/bunnysrph and @/enchanthings-a.

And the Forsaken Devs for this character I thought of WAY too much angst about :3

#Constellation #A Star-faring Game of Chess #Passion from The Stars #Rook #Rook Forsaken #Forsaken #Roblox Forsaken #Forsaken Roblox #HomicidalPorkchops #Homicidal Porkchops

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mangom00n · 1 year ago

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Types of people: pastries

Croissant: Dependable, has a comforting presence. Knows everyone and is well liked by all. Always has a drink in their hand.

Eclair: Elegant, poised, very stylish. A bit high maintenance, but you love them so it's no problem. Smiles with their eyes.

Cream puff: Good with kids, controlled chaos. A bit of a mess but you love them all the same. Has a contagious laugh.

Macaron: Confident in a likable way, always has a joke at the ready. Love language is gift giving. Content to chill in any situation.

Baklava: Always smells amazing, great taste in music. Flirty personality, frequently late to events, prankster. Bro is cool as fuck.

#tag yourself #types of people #tag game #pastries

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fio-renze · 2 months ago

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Appearance —

Gender: Female

Race: Sin’dorei

Height: 5′8″

Eye Color: Arcane blue

Hair Color: Starlight white

Build: Sporty and lithe

Skin Tone: Warm sand with freckling on her shoulders

Piercings/Tattoos: Single in each lobe and three helix piercings in each ear. Her left arm has a thicket of ranunculus blooms, pomegranates in various states of fruiting, branches, leaves and a snake winding through it all from her forearm up to her shoulder

Scars: She has a thin, inch long scar on the inside of her forearm near the crook of her elbow from some kind of blade

Common Accessories: Enchanted gold stacking rings, little emerald earrings, aesthetically stacked necklaces, perfume that smells pleasantly like honeysuckle, gardenia and grapefruit

Likeness: Hayley Atwell

Personal Information —

Profession: Mercenary, and owner of Flowerhouse in the "off-season" a company that produces floral arrangements for events

Languages: Thalassian, Common

Residence: A tree that's slowly being grown into a house within a tree on what's left of the Sunmote family lands in Eversong Woods

Birthplace: Quel’thalas

Birthday: November 11

Religion: None

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Dying alone, her migraines

Relationships —

Relationship Status: Widowed, currently single

Spouse: Halandir Tel'vaiel (deceased)

Children: Sylmae Tel'vaiel (deceased) and Finn Tel'vaiel (deceased)

Parents: Finniall Sunmote (deceased) and Cosima Sunmote (deceased)

Siblings: Pyraelia Sunmote

Other Relatives: Keranna Zerine, second cousin

Pets: Rue, a magic cat

Sex & Romance —

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant| switch

Libido: Moderate

Turn ons: Skill, wit, charm, intelligence and people who are a little bit dangerous

Turn offs: Whining, poor hygiene, cruelty and playing dumb

Love Language: Gifts and physical touch

Relationship Tendencies: She's likes being doted on by her partner and going out and about with her partner because it's fun to show off, but also appreciates having her own life, independence and time alone

Favorites —

Favorite food: Macarons, baklava and meze

Favorite drink: Wine

Favorite scents: Sea air, citrus, petrichor and the faint florals when you first step into a garden

Favorite person: @pyraelia

RP Hooks —

Fallen Nobility - Fiorenze was born into the Sunmote family, a line that has patents of nobility stretching back to Zin'azshari. She married into the Tel'vaiel family, a few ranks up from her own, and spent most of her life in the Court of Silvermoon navigating high elven politics. She recently abdicated the Tel'vaiel titles to @sheizara, Halandir's bastard half-sister, and maintains the Sunmote titles as a formality — what is left of those lands is not enough to hold any weight in the Regency.

Druid - she's one of the rare Sin'dorei with nature magic, her affinity with flowers is clear and the arrangements she puts together through her business Flowerhouse tend to live weeks longer than the competition

HOW TO CONTACT:

OoC feel free to contact me here on tumblr.

IC I can be found in-game under the name Sunmote on Wyrmrest Accord. If you see me, please feel free to say hello!

#character info #wyrmrest accord #sin'dorei #wyrmrest accord roleplay #fiorenze

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curiouswisp · 2 months ago

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Characterization Cheat Sheet: Rukhana

Full Name: Rukhana Ingellvar (no middle name)

Nicknames: Ruk, Little Wisp (as a child)

Age: 34, born Matrinalis 10, 9:18 Dragon

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bi/Pan

Lineage: Human

Class: Warrior - Reaper

Nationality: Nevarran

Faction: Mourn Watch

Fanart and Fanfic permissions: Yes, any/all, just let me know :)

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Looks:

Approximately 5'9/175cm, white hair cut in a blunt bob (longer at the start of the game, she cuts it after weisshaupt, so you'll see both), green eyes that have a brown outer rim, red lips, scar on her chin, tattoo in the middle of her chest. She wears medium and heavy armor. When not in combat she dresses in academia looks, typically tailored trousers, some sort of button-up shirt, and an underbust bodice or corset belt (or vest), or clothing/looks with clean lines and structure. She does not have pierced ears (not practical as a warrior in her opinion ) but loves all the rest of the mourn watch jewelry styles. Ruk's typical color palette is Black, brown (neutrals), dark purple, dark green, wine red, and bronze/gold.

General Likes: Ruk is a sucker for flowers. She also loves cats, perfume, puzzles, and books. Food, she loves wine, patatas bravas (really anything with potatoes), goat cheese, strawberries, baklava (honey pastry).

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Skills:

Combat Skills: Sword and shield mainly, proficient with two-handed scythes or dual wielding. Can tap into a small amount of magic to fuel reaper abilities.

Other Skills: Battle strategy, puzzle solving, political analysis/advising, flirting, snark/sarcasm, giving the middle finger, floriculture, piano

Languages: Nevarran, Common, conversational in Tevene and Orlesian, can read some Tomb Script.

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Body/Physicality

General Behavior: Confident, chin up, chest out. Cocky grins and half smiles. Her eyes are always assessing. Ruk prides herself on her observational skills and they’ve saved her life a time or two. Likes to talk and outwardly she’s warm, but deep down, she doesn’t fully trust most people not to let her down eventually, so she prefers to ask others about themselves over talking about her personal life. Puts a lot of effort into her appearance, but mostly because she enjoys being underestimated. Isn’t afraid of confrontation or a debate.

Flirting: Constantly, sometimes without realizing it. Relaxed, open posture. Arms spread along the back of their chair, leaning in to them, eyes looking from eyes to lips back to eyes and not hiding it. Low-cut or scandalously unbuttoned tops. Sly smiles from across the room. Trailing her fingertips along her neck and clavicles to see if they’re watching. Small touches. Perfume. Lipstick kisses on notes. Not afraid to walk away and (hopefully) leave them wanting more.

With Established Romantic Partner: More physically affectionate than verbally. Hand holding, arm in arm, pulling them into her lap, kissing you in public. Kissing pulse points. Scratching their scalp, playing with their hair. Picking them up and carrying them to bed (in both spicy and sleepy situations).

With Friends: Loud laughter and free smiles. Animated talking with hand gestures. She tends to be less observational and on guard in these situations. Friendly verbal or physical sparring. Will roast you out of love.

In Combat: Keen awareness of her surroundings. Narrowed eyes and glares. Protecting her allies, sometimes at the risk of her safety. Shit talking, cocky taunting. Until Weisshaupt, she sorely lacks caution and tends to overestimate her odds in a fight. Will throw anything within reach at someone (although it’s usually her shield). Bathed in green light when she unleashes her reaper abilities and relishes in her connection with death when using them.

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Dialogue/Speaking

Voice: Her speaking voice sounds like Zahra Hydris from Critical Role. Will change the inflection of words occasionally to emphasize or change the meaning. She can come off as blunt initially, but will talk more the more she gets to know you.

Humor: Usually a mix of snarky sarcasm, some subtle off-color jokes, and some exaggerated silliness thrown in for flair. Loves to lightly tease.

With Friends: She’s fairly easy to make laugh, and may accidentally snort (much to her horror). Her speech can get loud sometimes if she’s excited or has had a few glasses of wine. Will turn into a certified yapper if you get her going about something she’s interested in or knowledgeable about. She’s also comfortable in silence and typically does not feel the need to fill it with talking unless she’s nervous.

With Romantic Interests: Soft murmuring, pressing her lips against their hair and talking low to them. Still gets uncomfortable with how vulnerable verbally communicating affection feels, so is not good at it, and is not in the habit of doing it often. She is more comfortable with writing romantic sentiments than saying them aloud. She does like a nickname or pet name for her partners. For more intimate situations, she is comfortable talking through and about those situations, and will tease and prompt her partners to communicate their wants and how they feel.

Anger: She has a hard edge to her voice when angry. She will speak in shorter, clipped sentences. She tries not not speak as much as she would want to when angry to prevent saying something she will regret, but she sometimes loses that battle. Is not afraid to be direct about why she is angry and where she believes the fault lies.

Cursing: Years of training with warriors and soldiers have given her a decently foul mouth. She can tone it down when she’s in the Necropolis and is trying to be proper, but the simple answer is yes.

Combat: Will taunt her opponents, especially if she knows it will keep the attention on her and protect anyone with her and her adrenaline is high (she also just loves shit talking). Will bellow, growl, curse, etc. Will call out commands, observations, or yell to check in with companions during combat. Will celebrate a good hit or takedown (her own or others).

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

BONUS:

My personal last name canon: Ingellvar: The name given to the Mortalitasi’s wards, orphans raised in the Necropolis. Ingellvar is the last name of the watcher, Rosamund Ingellvar, who saw too many children end up on the streets of Nevarra City and surmised that there might be a better way, thus the necropolis ward program was created. Under the program wards are given schooling and training as Mortalitasi, and possibly later on as watchers, but also have duties to perform to cover room and board. It is a last name that marks them for what they are, and it is on occasion used to “put them in their place”, especially around Watchers, both junior and senior, and other Nevarrans that claim nobility as lineage.

#oc: rukhana ingellvar #Characterization Cheat Sheet #dragon age oc #mourn watch rook #rook ingellvar

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