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misscammiedawn · 4 months ago

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Plurality on the Disc

CW: Fatphobia, euthanasia

One thing you can always say about Pratchett was that he did not believe in prejudice. The man saw the world through a lens of satire and yet in all things he attempted to see the humanity in all things and tried to bleed that compassion into the world he created, especially with the modernization of the central city, Ankh Morpork.

Pratchett's works as early as the 90s were showing positive trans representation in Cheery Littlebottom, a dwarf who opts to present femme within a culture that treats displays of gender other than the "default", without acknowledging the inherent bias that the "default" gender presentation within Dwarf culture is masculine. It seems Pratchett was able to display "Male or Political" as a fallacy long before toxic gamer culture.

Sensing that the audience may have found this too subtle he went on to write Monstrous Regiment in 2003, a story about a group of women who take up arms, disguise their gender and live as men to fight in a war. As many things on the Disc it was written with fantasy and satire in mind and yet was incredibly detailed in historical accuracy. As trans-folx continuously remind: "We have always been here"

Today's topic, though, is on plurality. Typically in Media, Myself and I essays we focus on depictions of DID with an emphasis on psychopathology. Pathology and mental illness do not really factor into the fantasy world of Discworld. One need only look at the "Sideflashes" depicted in Monstrous Regiment, those being moments where a vampire character has traumatic hallucinations of the Vietnam War of our world, to know that Pratchett is more interested in satirizing the genre mediums he is working within rather than depicting accurate portraits of real mental illness.

That said, in one of his final books, Thud! Pratchett did have a character with two distinct personalities who could withhold information from one another say "It's supposed to be an illness, but all I can say is, we've gotten along well."

Pratchett always leads with compassion and in all of his work he does his research. Though he never wrote much about the supposed illness mentioned in Thud!, he has written plural characters and we're going to focus on one right now.

The books in question are Maskerade (1995) and Carpe Jugulum (2003). These books heavily feature the characters Agnes Nitt and Perdita X Dream.

The first of the two stories is a parody of The Phantom of the Opera with a heavy emphasis on the real life stress and drama behind the scenes of any stage performance. A must read for any theatre kid who wishes to see 'the show must go on' taken to ludicrous extremes.

Agnes is a young witch who has talent as a singer. So much so that she is able to sing in harmony with herself. She decides to move to the big city and join the opera house in hopes of turning her talents to become a star.

Agnes is a prim and proper young witch, raised to think and act a certain way. The problem is, of course, she wants to act in ways unbecoming of who she is perceived as. So growing up when she misbehaved and acted outside of these rigid expectations she would compartmentalize all of her behaviors into Perdita X Dream, "the thin woman trying to get out"

She'd caught herself saying 'poot!' and 'dang!' when she wanted to swear, and using pink writing paper. She'd got a reputation for being calm and capable in a crisis. Next thing she knew she'd be making shortbread and apple pies as good as her mother's, and then there'd be no hope for her. So she'd introduced Perdita. She'd heard somewhere that inside every fat woman was a thin woman trying to get out[3] so she'd named her Perdita. She was a good repository for all those thoughts that Agnes couldn't think on account of her wonderful personality. Perdita would use black writing paper if she could get away with it, and would be beautifully pale instead of embarrassingly flushed. Perdita wanted to be an interestingly lost soul in plumcoloured lipstick. Just occasionally, though, Agnes thought Perdita was as dumb as she was.

It is not uncommon for those with dissociative disorders to have these idealized personas that take on lives of their own. Though the Fae beauty known as Dawn is a name and identity that I have forged through decades of actualizing, my humble roots will always be the performance of what we thought a strong and capable woman would look and sound like. The fact we borrowed the blueprints is neither here nor there.

In moving to the city of Ankh, Agnes decides that she is free of those who have told her what to do and able to live as she has always desired. She adopts the name Perdita as her own and signs up to sing.

After moving in to the opera house she becomes entangled in the plot of Phantom of the Opera. The central story of the book is a retelling of PotO but with the Disc's patented absurdity added on and Agnes being used as a perspective character. At a point Christine, the only woman capable of exclaiming a whisper, switches rooms with Agnes because she is keeps hearing voices while she's trying to sleep. That night the voice from behind the mirror calls out into the darkness, thinking it is speaking to Christine, and speaks to Agnes instead.

There is makes it very clear as to why Agnes cannot be the central figure of the book.

Agnes pulled the bedclothes up higher. 'In the middle of the night?!' 'Night is nothing to me. I belong to the night. And I can help you.' It was a pleasant voice. It seemed to be coming from the mirror. 'Help me to do what?!' 'Don't you want to be the best singer in the opera?' 'Oh, Perdita is a lot better than me!!' There was silence for a moment, and then the voice said: 'But while I cannot teach her to look and move like you, I can teach you to sing like her.' Agnes stared into the darkness, shock and humiliation rising from her like steam.

Fatphobia is real and is on The Disc, I am sad to say.

But it is after this incident that Agnes begins to recognize the prejudice that has been levied at her the entire book and the prim and proper Agnes politely thinks calm and pleasant thoughts when she is insulted, it is Perdita who thinks rude words.

This gets worse as the plot goes on and the managers cast Christine as the lead and have Agnes sing the lead from the chorus.

The humiliation and compartmentalized resentment continues on and...

What she was about to do was wrong. Very wrong. And all her life she'd done things that were right. Go on, said Perdita. In fact, she probably wouldn't even do it. But there was no harm in just asking where there was a herbal shop, so she asked. And there was no harm in going in, so she went in. And it certainly wasn't against any kind of law to buy the ingredients she bought. After all, she might get a headache later on, or be unable to sleep. And it would mean nothing at all to take them back to her room and tuck them under the mattress. That's right, said Perdita.

Passive Influence is a term used for when a part/alter pushes for action while another part is fronting in the system.

In this example Perdita is steering Agnes to perform actions that are not congruent with her nature and her beliefs. Agnes is not capable of plotting revenge against someone and enacting a scheme and so even while performing the actions she is rationalizing to herself that she is not actually doing anything untoward because it is not in her nature to do such a thing.

The traits exist but they do not belong to Agnes and at this point she has not yet realized that the Perdita identity that she has formed is capable of asserting her own will.

The formation of a dissociative disorder typically occurs when a child is in a situation of constant trauma and need to adapt contradicting realities in order to function. Most common of which is the contradiction of needing protection, nurture and safety from the caregivers who provide terror and pain. To function within that framework a young mind will compartmentalize experiences in order to maintain a reality where both these truths are compatible.

Agnes, in part due to the prejudice she faces for her weight, has to have a wonderful personality. Her acceptance within society requires her to act the part and be a kind and sweet girl with a wonderful personality. Always be the best version of herself in spite of her looks because without that wonderful personality she will only be regarded as a large woman and will be discarded.

So she puts away all the thoughts that run contrary to that narrative. Anything that doesn't fit in the Nice Girl persona.

Aren't you just tired of putting up with it, though? Don't you want to go apeshit?

If you were someone like Agnes Nitt, wouldn't you long to be someone as dark and mysterious as Perdita X Dream?

As the book goes on Perdita continues thinking things from behind Agnes' eyes and the narrative begins describing their differing perspectives. The schism growing wider and wider throughout the story.

At the start of the book, when Perdita began becoming more prominent, the prose would say "Perdita thought a rude word" then, as in the passive influence section, "Perdita said" is included in the text. Later still Agnes and Perdita converse within the prose.

The candle burned with a greenish-blue edge to the flame. Somewhere, said Perdita, there was the secret room. If there wasn't a huge and glittering secret cavern, what on earth was life for? There had to be a secret room. A room, full of. . . giant candles, and enormous stalagmites. . . But it certainly isn't here, said Agnes.

The further on the story goes the more comfortable both character and author are in sharing the back and forth between Nitt and Dream.

If Maskerade was the introduction to the concept then Carpe Jugulum (2003) is where Agnes Nitt and Perdita X Dream's shared mind and body become central figures in the story and are allowed to explore themselves a little more. In the previous story Perdita is treated as where Agnes puts all of her unseemly actions and desires.

In Carpe Jugulum it is treated very emphatically as a dissociative disorder where two parts of the same mind share control over the same body.

She simply sang in harmony with herself. Unless she concentrated it was happening more and more these days. Perdita had rather a reedy voice, but she insisted on joining in. Those who are inclined to casual cruelty say that inside a fat girl is a thin girl and a lot of chocolate. Agnes’s thin girl was Perdita. She wasn’t sure how she’d acquired the invisible passenger. Her mother had told her that when she was small she’d been in the habit of blaming accidents and mysteries, such as the disappearance of a bowl of cream or the breaking of a prized jug, on “the other little girl.”

The tone is set early on with Pratchett working to codify that which already existed by including Agnes putting the pieces together as an adult based on what others had told her she did as a child, something all too common with those with dissociative disorders.

The pair are living in harmony for the most part, Perdita enjoys getting to sing with Agnes and is fiercely defensive of her host. She does not enjoy it when people are mean to Agnes. It is why she focused much of Maskerade on scowling at Christine. Though Perdita herself seems to enjoy bullying Agnes, as she does delight in cruelly calling her a lump.

The story this time is about a group of Modern Sexy Vampires moving in to the witches' town and deciding to take over. Much of the book's satire is a comparison of the Anne Rice and World of Darkness ethos on vampire lore and comparing it to the more gothic and classic depictions such as Nosferatu and Bram Stoker's Dracula.

As well as the complete and utter violation that is "treating people like things".

The story also introduces Mightily Oats (who Perdita will squee about having a cool ponytail), a parody of the catholic vampire slayer trope. He, himself, has a "rifted personality" like Agnes and Perdita due to his adherence to the contradicting commandments and beliefs held within the religious texts of his faith, Om.

Unfortunately, Perdita's alliance with Agnes is harmed when the vampires move in and Perdita finds herself largely attracted to them. Perdita is the very essence of a scene kid, after all, she'd listen to Evanescence if they existed on The Disc. Throughout the early phase of the vampire plot Perdita finds herself internally shaking Agnes and screaming petulantly at her that she is fumbling the ball so hard when faced with them.

Ask him his name! Perdita yelled. No, that’d be forward of me, Agnes thought. Perdita screamed, You were built forward, you stupid lump—

I am certain many reading this will empathize. I certainly do.

But all too quickly the plot of the vampires is revealed and they begin using their vampire hypnosis to control the town. All while Perdita is screaming rebellion and demanding they be given garlic enemas.

Perdita is unimpacted by the mind control. What's worse is that the vampires can read minds and can tell there's something odd about Agnes but not quite what.

Ur…” She stopped it turning into a giggle. “Not really. Not very well…” Didn’t you listen to what they were saying? They’re vampires! “Shut up,” she said aloud. “I beg your pardon?” said Vlad, looking puzzled. “And they’re…well, they’re not a very good orchestra…” Didn’t you pay any attention to what they were saying at all, you useless lump? “They’re a very bad orchestra,” said Vlad. “Well, the King only bought the instruments last month and basically they’re trying to learn together—” Chop his head off! Give him a garlic enema! “Are you all right? You really know there are no vampires here, don’t you…” He’s controlling you! Perdita screamed. They’re… affecting people! “I’m a bit… faint from all the excitement,” Agnes mumbled. “I think I’ll go home.” Some instinct at bone-marrow level made her add, “I’ll ask Nanny to go with me.” Vlad gave her an odd look, as if she wasn’t reacting in quite the right way. Then he smiled. Agnes noticed that he had very white teeth. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Miss Nitt,” he said. “There’s something so… inner about you.” That’s me! That’s me! He can’t work me out! Now let’s both get out of here! yelled Perdita.

Up until now Perdita has been a very internal experience for plurality, itself a rarity within fiction. Perdita never fronts in the entirety of Maskerade. She is a sharp and judgmental voice in the back of Agnes' head and shaped much like her repressed desires.

After escaping the clutches of vampire mind control and escaping from the dangerous circumstance Perdita yanks control of the body and outs herself to fellow witch Nanny Ogg, leading to the first time either Nitt or Dream have had to describe their situation to someone outside the body.

“It’s all right,” said Agnes. “It’s me again, Agnes Nitt, but…She’s here but… I’m sort of holding on. Yes! Yes! All right! All right, just shut up, will y— Look, it’s my body, you’re just a figment of my imagina—Okay! Okay! Perhaps it’s not quite so clear c—Let me just talk to Nanny, will you?” “Which one are you now?” said Nanny Ogg. “I’m still Agnes, of course.” She rolled her eyes up. “All right! I’m Agnes currently being advised by Perdita, who is also me. In a way. And I’m not too fat, thank you so very much!” “How many of you are there in there?” said Nanny. “What do you mean, ‘room for ten’?” shouted Agnes. “Shut up! Listen, Perdita says there were vampires at the party. The Magpyr family, she says. She can’t understand how we acted. They were putting a kind of…’fluence over everyone. Including me, which is why she was able to break thr—Yes, all right, I’m telling it, thank you!” “Why not her, then?” said Nanny. “Because she’s got a mind of her own! […] Nanny rubbed her chin, torn between the vampiric revelation and prurient curiosity about Perdita. “How does Perdita work, then?” she said. Agnes sighed. “Look, you know the part of you that wants to do all the things you don’t dare do, and thinks the thoughts you don’t dare think?” Nanny’s face stayed blank. Agnes floundered. “Like…maybe…rip off all your clothes and run naked in the rain?” she hazarded. “Oh yes. Right,” said Nanny. “Well…I suppose Perdita is that part of me.” “Really? I’ve always been that part of me,” said Nanny. “The important thing is to remember where you left your clothes.”

This is the compassion in Pratchett's writing I'd mentioned. In this story Perdita is revealed to be part of Agnes and though Nanny Ogg is confused and a little ignorant of the whole affair, going as far as to yell "is she treating you alright in there?" into Perdita's ear, she is caring and understanding. In Maskerade Nanny was the one person in Lancre who accepted Agnes changing her name to Perdita, reasoning that "people ought to call themselves what they want."

In approaching the abnormal circumstance with compassion in the fiction it helps those reading get a broader and better understanding of how to be kind and treat those impacted in real life.

Also, as a side note, Agnes yelling at Nanny while "currently advised by Perdita" may not be an overt piece of representation but there is a concept called Blending within plurality. It's not mentioned in textbooks I've read but is often discussed in support communities. At times when two parts are co-conscious in front their traits will become a little blended.

In a way parts of a dissociative system are simply a way of storing traits necessary to function but dividing them to prevent emotional harm and damage or to maintain a form of continuity of self. To give an example we were ejected by our caregivers and internalized it as our own fault for being undesirable so part of us cannot fathom doing anything which would make us disposable and unlikable but our circumstances required becoming cold and focused for survival and so the sweet kind and lovable empathy driven part and the cold and angry survival part are kept in separate boxes. Likewise we have trauma related to eroticism but there is still an attraction to such material within us and so in order to function I handle that aspect of our life and shelter the others from being impacted. At first due to heavy dissociation and denial and these days due to practice in therapy allowing us to let parts "opt out" and retreat inwards when they do not want to be involved in what is happening with the body.

In a way blended parts are closer to what a person would be like if they were singlet, though blurring does not often involve the entire system if there are more than 2 parts.

And though I say 'closer', I do not mean entirely as typically when blended people are in an activated state. In the above case where Perdita and Nanny had triggered Agnes' frustrations about her weight being bullied, she was unable to control the emotion of her reaction.

We refer to such days when we are blended and incapable of controlling our emotional reactions as "thin skinned days". They were more common prior to diagnosis.

As the story continues the pair need to see-saw their consciousness to avoid vampire mind control and we are treated to moments of Agnes being the "invisible passenger" in the situation, going as far to show her ability to focus attention on reading is not as sharp as Agnes'. Something I can assure you is quite true within parts of a dissociative system. Goodness knows Cammie would never have the patience to do the reading and typing necessary for these essays.

The story continues on and though there are moments of casual misunderstanding which are a par for the course in such tales, such as Nanny telling Perdita to "give Agnes her body back, you know it's hers really--" before knocking her out to ensure Agnes has control. They throw out lines like:

“Yes, that’s Agnes,” she said, standing back. “Her face goes sharper when it’s the other one. See? I told you she’d be the one that came back. She’s got more practice.”

And let me say, when someone knows you and loves you enough to recognize a part by the way they wear their face alone, it's something. I am simply incapable of reading a moment like that and not breaking into a smile and thinking of the many times our long distance love has tried to explain how she can just tell without a word when we have switched.

But as always. Pratchett leads with compassion. Where Nanny Ogg says that she thinks people should be called what they want to be called in Maskerade, regarding Agnes' wish to be called Perdita (not Perditax), it is Granny Weatherwax the beating heart and soul of the Discworld who says it best

Ah...one mind, split in half. There were more Agneses in the world than Agnes dreamed of, Granny told herself. All the girl had done was to give the thing a name, and once you give the thing a name you give it life...

Once you give a thing a name, you give it life.

That is compassion. To not fully understand something and how it forms and how it presents, but to respect it all the same. To know it has a form and should be treated as real because by virtue of being named it is real.

That is what so much of Pratchett's work is focused on. The humanity of seeing others as they wish to be and respecting them. It's such a low bar to clear in our world and yet sometimes it really does need to be emphasized.

Typically when Granny says something it's from the perspective of age and wisdom. It may not always be without bias but it is with a weight of knowledge and respect.

The final book in the series contents with Sir Pratchett's knowledge of his own death. He knew for years. He even did a documentary on medical aid in dying. He poured it all into depicting a tale that includes Granny's death.

The works of Terry Pratchett have long been a companion in our life. We've been reading them our entire life. To this day we have refused to read beyond Granny's death scene in Shepherd's Crown. We broke down crying when we saw the "I ATE'NT DEAD" call back. We couldn't pick up the book again after that.

It's too difficult to think that one of the voices that taught us morality is gone from this world. Our tag for Discworld is GNU Terry Pratchett. As long as the name is spoken he is never really gone.

As long as Shepherds Crown still has pages yet unread, the book series isn't really over.

For more of my essays on positive DID representation in media, please check out my Media, Myself and I tag.

#dawn posting #media myself and i #discworld #gnu terry pratchett #did #plurality #agnes nitt #perdita x dream #media essays

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arcane-vagabond · 1 month ago

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Fool's Fare: Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Flashback Chapter, Cursing, I played around with mythology in this one, Myths, Curses, Magic, Deals, Mentions of death, Mentions of suicide, Smoking pipes (Tobacco), Regret, Angst, some fluff. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I've missed something!

Word Count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

Smoke wafted towards the ceiling, disappearing into the air before the soft tendrils could reach the wooden rafters. The glow of the embers illuminated Tom’s face as he sucked the tobacco smoke into his lungs, the burn a familiar comfort to him after so many years. Blue eyes scanned the crowded room, men gulping down mouthfuls of ale as women sauntered around the room looking for their bed fellow of the night. Laughter broke out on the far side of the room, cheers following it as the last hand of cards was revealed.

These too were familiar to him.

“Don’t suppose the information we were given was wrong,” Beau muttered beside him. Tom’s eyes drifted over to him, studying the quartermaster. Tom wasn’t sure he altogether liked Beau very much, but he trusted the man, and in this life, trust was worth its weight in gold. While Tom knew the quartermaster was loyal, he also knew that Beau’s interest aligned with his own.

“He’ll be here,” he replied, shifting in his chair to lean back, feet propping up on the table. A pretty, young woman strolled casually over to him, fixing him with a sultry gaze and a confident smile. Tom waved her off, earning a pout, but he paid her no mind. He was on a mission tonight, waiting for a man he knew would show his face sooner rather than later.

Pete Mitchell was a right bastard as far as Tom was concerned—the newly appointed captain of the Maverick had earned himself quite the reputation even before earning the mantle from his predecessor.

Tales of the new captain capturing and sinking enemy ships had made their way to every port along the coasts, whispers twisting tales until no one knew what was true and what was falsehood. What had remained consistent, however, was the fact that the young captain had been going around boasting about how no man could best him, not even Davy Jones himself.

Tom wouldn’t stand for that.

The door to the pub opened with a sharp crack to the wall behind it, a smirking young man with fine features, dark hair, and blazing, blue eyes roving over the scene before him.

“That’s him,” Beau whispered, and Tom let out a low grunt in acknowledgement, watching the young man strut into the room like he owned the place. Tom’s jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, feeling his own irritation rolling off of him in waves. The lad seemed to sense him because his gaze turned to fix on the older man, a brow arching curiously. Slowly, Pete walked over to him, confidence shining from every pore as a lazy smirk curled on his lips. He didn’t wait to be invited to sit, he simply did—the chair knocking against the stone floor as he plopped down in the seat. The man who followed him, much taller than the captain and mustache adorning his upper lip, peered around anxiously before fixing his eyes on Tom and Beau. Tom surmised that he must be Pete’s quartermaster, Nick Bradshaw.

Tom turned his attention back to Pete as the younger man’s smirk became a full-blown grin.

“Evenin’, pops,” he greeted, nodding at him from across the table. Tom felt the vein in his forehead pulse with irritation, leaning back in his chair with a creak and another drag from his pipe. Tom studied the young man before him, noting how at ease he seemed to be despite the dangerous aura that rolled off of Tom in waves. Men twice this boy’s age cowered in his presence, and yet here he was—grinning like a cheshire cat.

It pissed him off.

“You know,” Pete drawled, leaning back to mirror the older captain, “it’s considered polite to answer back.”

Tom snorted, bringing the pipe away from his mouth and staring down the young captain.

“Pleasantries fly out the window once I hear of some upstart going around boasting about how none can best him—even Davy Jones himself.”

“I haven’t even seen you on the seas, old timer,” Pete grinned. “You think I’d beat you like all the others?”

“I think I’d sink your ship in ten seconds flat without even raising my voice,” Tom spat, earning a wary side-eye from his quartermaster.

“Tom here doesn’t exactly appreciate people invoking his name needlessly,” Beau supplied, shifting in his seat as waves of anger rolled off the captain. “Especially when it’s spoken in boast of oneself.”

Pete’s brow arched as his quartermaster’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Nick spoke, leaning forward to look over his own captain’s shoulder. “We don’t even know your name.”

Tom hummed, tapping his fingers on the top of the table. “I think you do.”

A moment of silence passed between the four men, the rowdy crowd around them continuing on in their revelry as if nothing were amiss. It was Pete who broke the silence first.

“You’re supposed to be a myth,” he murmured, all trace of mirth gone from his face. “A legend.”

“Any sailor worth his salt knows not to invoke names of power,” Tom retorted. “Names themselves have power. You shouldn’t speak the name of anything whose wrath you don’t want to earn.”

“And is that what I’ve done?” Challenged Pete, squaring his shoulders as Nick gave him an exasperated look. “Have I incurred the wrath of Davy Jones?”

Tom considered him for a moment. The gall of this man was something Tom hadn’t seen in decades, and he found that he quite liked the challenge the young captain was issuing him. He tried to remember the last time someone had done so so openly and brazenly.

“You’ve certainly incurred the annoyance of Tom,” he replied finally, not missing the sharp look Beau shot his way. Pete frowned in confusion.

“Tom?”

“That’s my name,” he replied with a shrug, inhaling from his pipe as he watched the younger man process his words.

“I thought you were Davy Jones?” Pete asked finally, lips pursed as his guard was up.

“Davy Jones is more of a…moniker,” Tom supplied, closing his eyes as he basked in the warmth of the tobacco in his lungs. “Has a better ring to it than Thomas, wouldn’t you say?”

The young captain stared at him in disbelief before letting out a humorless chuckle.

“You aren’t at all what I was expecting,” Pete mused, and Tom snorted.

“You weren’t expecting much,” he countered. “You didn’t even think I was real until a few moments ago.”

The two men talked well into the night, and Tom had grown a sort of strange fondness for the plucky captain. You’d never get him to admit that he felt somewhat impressed by the stories Pete told him of the several ships he had managed to capture, but he was sure Pete caught the way his eyes alighted with intrigue. As dawn broke above the horizon, the sky painted in a hushed blue and warm pink, the captains bid farewell to each other, Tom warning the young captain one more time to not invoke his name lest there be consequences.

Years passed, and in that time, Tom and his crew had taken many treasures from doomed ships, the begging of crews falling on deaf ears. The captain of the Flying Dutchman having long lost feeling in his heart for the plight of others. No, in this world there was only take, his endless life proof of that.

His crew was not dead, not in any way that may truly matter. Rather, they sat in limbo thanks to a god long thought dead—a goddess that Tom had betrayed.

Thetis had been beautiful, strong, and perhaps the most coveted woman in antiquity at one time. Tom, who had gone by a name he had long forgotten at that time, had wooed the goddess, and perhaps at one time he would have said he even loved her. Together, they had seven sons, but only one would grow to be a man, the others lost to mortality. Thetis had been driven mad with grief, and Tom had closed himself off completely.

Perhaps it was a mixture of pride and the folly of his youth that had led him to betray her. The now faded memories of sailing with a band of his brothers had filled his mind then, and Tom had decidedly wanted more. He knew his wife held great magic in her hands, and he had begged her to use it to secure him power over the seas. Of course, she had been reluctant at first, warning him of the dangers that came from such a request, but Tom had been insistent. The first moment he held the star in his hand, he knew he had doomed himself.

He had left shortly after, leaving his wife heartbroken and his son in the care of a trusted friend. His wife had bestowed power to him, and Tom was ever the fool to think that it had been anything other than her final act of revenge.

He and his crew were doomed to limbo, to wander the seas forever craving more from those who were unfortunate to cross their paths. Time passed around them, and it wasn’t long until Tom learned of his son’s tragic fate, mourning him as best he could despite the never-ending greed that gripped his heart. Time marched forever forward, and soon Tom took on new name after new name until one day he realized he had no memory of who he once was.

The star had been lost to him, having lost it in a gamble or having misplaced it at some point—he wasn’t sure. He wanted it back though, but no matter how hard he tried, the star remained lost to him. The magic cursed to him by his estranged wife, however, made him slave to the whims of the ocean, his name crossing into legend then myth. He took up the moniker of Davy Jones, a name that now struck fear into the heart of every sailor that sailed the seven seas.

All except one.

It was a dreary day when Tom felt the call. Mist clung to his skin as the ship moved forward in the dark waves, an eery silence surrounding him when he felt the call of his name.

It had taken a while for him to notice the first time it happened. His name a beacon on the waves for those sentenced to death on the ocean’s surface. But, soon he realized the call that stirred deep within him. Where the call came, treasure awaited.

Tom signaled to the helmsman to change course, the ship creaking in protest against the crashing waves. Still, the ship spurred on at an unnatural pace, and it wasn’t long before Tom realized he had been summoned to the shore off of southern Massachusetts. He frowned at the location, choosing to go ashore himself and leave his crew behind until he could determine what was happening.

Tom secured the lifeboat up onto the shore, confident that it was far enough inland that the tide wouldn’t pull it back out should he take long. The sand shifted beneath his feet as he walked along the shore, the summons guiding him to where he needed to go. The sun was drifting towards the skyline, the sparse clouds above streaming past up above as his eyes scanned the beach for what he was looking for. It wasn’t long before he came upon a familiar figure sitting amongst the rocks.

Pete was older than Tom had last seen him, only three years having passed since the last time they had seen each other—ten since the first time they had met. Strands of grey started to spot against Pete’s temples, lines littering his face to give him a more distinguished look. He looked up as Tom approached, smiling in way of greeting as the old, sea captain came to a stop beside him, dropping down next to him with a grunt. Tom pulled out his pipe, striking a match and puffing on the old, wooden piece as he let out a sigh.

“Been a while since I seen you,” he offered up after a moment’s silence. Pete nodded with a hum, turning his attention back to the sea.

“It has,” Pete agreed.

“Didn’t exactly part on the best of terms last time,” Tom continued.

“No,” Pete acquiesced. “We didn’t.”

“I don’t have the power to bring the dead back, Pete,” the older man reminded him. “The magic doesn’t work that way.”

“So you said,” Pete muttered, and Tom let out another sigh.

“I’d bring Nick back if I could,” he frowned, shoulders stiff. “You know that.”

Nick’s death had been a terrible accident—a stray bullet lodging into his heart during the heat of battle. Pete had taken it hard, locking himself away to mourn the loss of his most trusted friend. Nick had been a good man, though he had his secrets. Pete had mentioned that Nick had a wife and child tucked somewhere secret that he’d visit from time to time. Not even Pete knew where Nick would run off to during those times.

“I do,” Pete agreed. The two sat in silence for a few moments more before Tom rolled his shoulders, inhaling the tobacco smoke once more.

“So why’ve you brought me out here, then?” Tom prodded.

“Do you remember that girl I told you about?”

Tom paused. He did remember Pete mentioning a girl he’d been spending time with. “Penny, right?” He asked.

Pete nodded, a small smile creeping on his face at the mention of her name. Tom vaguely recalled seeing the girl on one of his last visits with Pete, a pretty thing with a fire that matched the young captain’s. Tom was surprised that she had managed to stick around.

“What about her?” Tom asked, peering over at the other captain.

“We’re married now.”

Tom started at that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever peg Pete as the marrying type, but he supposed he wasn’t one to talk.

“Married,” he echoed with a low hum.

“Two years now. Three in April,” Pete grinned.

“You called me out here to tell me that you’re married?” Tom snorted, the embers of his pipe glowing in the fading light as he inhaled once more.

“Actually,” Pete started, “I’m here to ask a favor.”

“A favor,” Tom echoed once more, this time with a frown. Pete knew there was a price to Tom’s favors—it was the way the magic worked.

“Penny and I have been trying for a family,” Pete explained, “but we haven’t had any luck. I see the way she tries to seem like it doesn’t bother her, but I also see the way she looks after the kids in the village. I want to give her everything I can, Tom. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t try everything?”

“You know there’ll be a price,” Tom warned him, casting a look his way. “There’s always a price to pay for these things.”

“Whatever it is,” Pete murmured, “I’ll pay it.”

“Why?” Tom retorted. “Why would you even risk it?”

Pete smiled at him, a soft look in his ocean blue eyes. “I love her, Tom.”

“Love is for fools,” Tom scoffed.

“Love is the price we pay to feel something in this world, Tom,” Maverick said, looking at his friend knowingly. Tom snorted, shaking his head.

“Fool’s fare then,” Tom relented. Pete’s head tilted back as he laughed.

“Call it what you like,” he chortled, “but the facts remain. Now are you going to help me or not?”

Tom considered him for a moment. What Pete was asking was no small task, but perhaps…

“Tell me,” he spoke. “What do you picture your life being?”

Pete thought for a moment.

“Penny wants a child regardless, but I think I want a son that I can pass my legacy onto. A son to teach the ways of sailing and ride on the waves together,” he paused. “Yes, a son.”

Tom hummed with a nod. He could work with that. He could manipulate the magic in that one, small way.

“The price for a life is a life in return,” he warned. “To gain your son, you forfeit your life after seven years.”

Pete hummed, rubbing at his chin as he considered the price. Tom waited, wondering if his friend would forfeit his own life to make this woman happy. Pete wasn’t a particularly selfish man, but he had a zest for life that was rare in Tom’s experience. People like Pete lived for the love of life, and the thought of willingly forfeiting that should seem like an impossible decision to the young captain.

“I’ll do it.”

Tom blinked, momentarily letting his mask of impassiveness slip to show his surprise at Pete’s decision. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat as he shifted.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you’re sure about this.”

Pete nodded. “I am.”

Tom felt the magic swirl within him, building as he readied to make the deal. Slowly, he extended his hand, settling on the wording of the spell.

“To gain a child,” he said slowly, “you forfeit your life.”

Pete nodded, grasping his outstretched hand. “I get my son, Penny get’s a child, and you gain a soul.”

Tom frowned. Magic was specific, it was precise. He wasn’t sure if Pete’s added words would affect the spell, but he was sure that he had enough control to alter that one piece.

The magic settled around them, a low hum that rang in Tom’s ears as he let go of Pete’s hand. He took a long drag from his pipe, holding the burning smoke in his lungs before blowing out long and slow.

“So, tell me,” Pete grinned. “What treasures have you found since I last saw you?”

Years passed, and Tom’s plan worked. Soon after his deal with Pete, he received the news that his friend would become a father, and nine months later he received word that Pete’s daughter had been born, a healthy, happy child according to Pete. It was a couple of years later when he first met the little girl.

Tom had never seen his friend look so happy, smiling and bouncing the toddler on his hips as he cooed at her, earning small giggles that made the young captain grin even wider.

“She may not be my son,” Pete told him, holding the little girl close as she dozed off against his shoulder, tiny thumb popped into her mouth, “but she’s my little guppy.”

Tom would have gagged if it weren’t so sweet. He thought back to his long dead son, how small the boy had been in his own arms, and warmth stirred in his chest.

“I’m happy it worked out,” he replied.

“I know you finagled the magic,” Pete told him. “No son means no forfeiture of my life, right?”

“That’s the idea,” Tom admitted. “You’ll live a long, happy life with your family.”

It was two years later that Pete brought a young boy named Bradley into his home, dubbing the boy Rooster.

“He reminds me of Nick,” Pete told Tom one day. “Looks just like him. So much so, that sometimes I wonder if Bradley really is-”

“Don’t,” Tom interrupted, placing a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t torture yourself with possibilities. Just focus on what you have now.”

Pete had smiled and nodded, content with the old captain’s words. Several more years passed, and the two children grew up as Pete grew older. Six years after Pete Mitchell had brought the boy into his home, he sealed his fate.

“Bradley’s grown strong,” he told Tom, pride evident in his voice. “He’s almost ready to take his first job. And, Guppy’s growing up so fast. She takes after her mother, I think.”

Tom snorted, but didn’t voice his opinion that Guppy took after her father rather than her mother—her stubbornness and talent for mischief qualities she inherited directly from the man who sat next to him.

“A son and a daughter,” Pete sighed. “I couldn’t be more proud to have them.”

It was like time stopped moving for a moment, magic stirred in the air like waves against rocks in the surf, crashing into Tom so hard, it knocked the air from his lungs. He started at Pete in horror, terror coursing through his veins for the first time in eons.

“What did you say?” His voice sounded small, even to his ears. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“I do,” Pete nodded, unfazed by the magic that now counted down the moments he had left to walk the earth. “And I’ll say it again. Bradley is my son, Tom. I won’t deny him that part in my life to save myself time.”

Tom continued to stare at him. Had he misjudged his friend so badly as to think that this boy would not hold such a place in his heart? Pete was different from the young man he had met over two decades before. Where he had been an inferno in his youth, scorching anyone or anything that got in his way, now he was the steady fire found in the hearth—a beacon to those around him.

“Seven years,” Tom murmured, hanging his head. “You have seven years.”

“Don’t feel bad, Tom,” Pete said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You did for me what you could, and you didn’t have to do that much. You allowed me more years with my family than our deal allowed, and for that I’m grateful. More than you can imagine.”

Tom shook his head, letting out a growl of frustration at his friend’s apparent lack of self preservation. Pete shot him a sympathetic smile.

“Guess the magic got its way in the end, huh?” Pete chuckled, though there was no humor in his tone.

Tom said nothing, and the two sat in silence long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.

Tom ran into Pete several times during those years, either on the sea during their adventures, or when he’d pop into the local tavern. During that time, Tom himself had fallen in love for the first time in ages. She was a pretty, young thing with chestnut waves that rolled down her back and eyes to match. Laughter that filled Tom’s heart with a mixture of warmth and longing, and how he wished she’d pay him more mind.

Kate was her name, and Tom was in love. He watched from afar as she chased after some local boy. Tom wished it was him that she yearned for, but he would love her from afar.

No good would come from entangling himself in her life.

He watched after her for years, content to be her silent protector. In between his moments of quiet pining for her, he’d visit Pete, cognizant of the fact that his friend’s time was quickly running out.

“Have you told them?” He asked one day, Pete looking up from the map he had been studying. Pete grimaced, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t want them to lose sleep over the inevitable. When I go, it will be a sudden, tragic accident. They’ll grieve, but they won’t torture themselves with the notion that they could have done anything to prevent it.”

Tom nodded, fidgeting with his pipe as a moment passed.

“I think I know what you meant about love now,” he admitted. Pete’s brow arched, the twinge of a smile evident on his lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” Tom groused, scowling at the younger man. “I’m only telling you because you’ll be dead soon enough, anyway.”

Pete threw his head back in laughter, Tom slowly joining in after a moment.

“Never one to beat around the bush, aye?” Pete chuckled, wiping a tear from his eyes as aftershocks of laughter rattled through him.

“Never,” Tom agreed with a grin.

That had been the last time Tom saw Pete. The magic had pulled tight at his chest, poised like a string before snapping, and Tom was left with a breathless, empty feeling. The tears came unbidden, a sob choking up out of him as he hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt sorrow like this, the last time he had allowed himself to feel close to anyone. Now he remembered why he was cold, why he gave himself to the ocean beneath him.

He would not make that mistake again.

As if to hammer home the lesson, news of Kate’s death reached him only days after. She had confessed her love to that same, stupid boy she had been chasing, and the boy had denied her affections. In her despair, she had thrown herself into the sea, drowning beneath the surface of the waves.

Tom was livid. How dare that boy take such a thing as love for granted. It was no matter, Tom would be the one to teach him a lesson.

And a lesson he had certainly bestowed. The boy had begged for mercy, but there was none to be found in Tom’s empty, aching heart. He thought of his friend who had given up everything in the name of love, something the boy before him had spit on as far as Tom was concerned. And so he had cursed the boy with the very curse that had been bestowed upon him lifetimes ago.

If more is what the boy wanted, it was more he would seek.

Tom had turned his back on the boy, the cries for mercy blending in with the wind as he disappeared into the shadows of night.

He saw the boy six years later during a visit to see you and Bradley, the blond having the swagger of any young captain, and his demeanor almost reminded him of another captain from so long ago.

Almost.

Tom hated him. Hated the very sight of him, and he was sure it was written all over his face as he scowled at him. Of course, the boy had no idea that he was talking to the very man that had cursed him so many years before. Tom made it a point to not let his civilian form slip to reveal the cursed soul that lay beneath. The night he had cursed the young man, he had let his control slip, revealing the skeleton of the man he truly was.

He knew better than to raise his voice in opposition to the idea that Bradley join this man’s crew. Much like the man who raised him, Bradley was more inclined to do the thing you told him not to do—a trait that Tom had found most annoying in Pete. However, he watched you trail after your brother, desperation clouding your judgement, and Tom shook his head in pity. He could try to speak up, but that would risk his exposure. Besides, there was no guarantee Bradley would listen to him, let alone believe him. He watched helplessly as Bradley signed his life away, signed away his future.

Tom could not meddle in the affairs of common folk, not without a price anyway. Stopping Bradley would have meant paying a terrible price, one that Tom would have no control over. Cursing under his breath, he watched as you stormed out of the tavern, tears streaming down your face. A wave of sadness washed over him, and he hung his head lower, squeezing his eyes shut against the realization that you truly would lose everyone you held dear in your life. All because of him. He had played a part in creating your family, and now he was the reason you would lose everyone completely. You’d be alone, just like him.

“I’m so sorry, Guppy.”

A/N: I'm so excited to share this one with you guys. This chapter has been swirling around in my head basically since the inception of the fic. I loved getting to explore the backstory of Tom and his origins as well as his friendship with Maverick. Did you pick up on the mythology? Can you guess Tom's true name? Only one more chapter to go and then we have our epilogue!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

#ff #fool's fare #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you

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sapphire-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Playing with Fire (part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: Your wedding approaches along with the bedding ceremony and wedding night. Your husband has a delicious surprise prepared.

warnings: 18+ nsfw, explicit spicy scenes (p in v, all the bases being covered, oral, fingering), do not interact if you don't want spice

word count: 3.7k

note: thanks for being patient, I hope this gives you all the spicy feels!

read more of my work here! 💚

“I cannot believe this day has come,” your mother says, with tears in her eyes as she smoothes the gown you wear.

It is beautiful, a creamy ivory color made of silks that cling to every curve of your body, the skirts cascading towards the floor.

“Now, my darling,” your mother says, clasping her hands in yours, “there are responsibilities you need to attend to tonight.”

The bedding ceremony. When the lords and ladies who attend the feast tear at the bride and groom, ripping the silks from their bodies like paper from a package. Gooseflesh appears as you think about it.

“The marriage bed is nothing to be afraid of,” your mother assures you, eyes kind and warm.

You feel conflicted with the different stories you have heard from other ladies losing their maidenheads.

“Prince Aegon shall be kind to you,” your mother says, stroking your cheek.

Will he? Aegon is many things, but kind you are not sure is one of them. In fact, Aemond had told you as much.

The wedding ceremony itself is a blur, a whirlwind of silks and smiles as you are carted to the castle sept and presented before Aegon. You feel as though you are in a dream as he places the cloak of House Targaryen on your back.

Now you suppose you are a dragon as well.

Aegon smiles at you and kisses you sweetly as a prince should when your vows are spoken. His eyes are lustful, his smile predatory. Now he has you in his jaws, your neck stuck between his teeth. The feeling both terrifies and excites you.

“Congratulations, my lady,” Aemond says, giving you a soft smile later at the feast.

Your heart flutters hearing his voice. Aemond was rather stoic during the ceremony, keeping off to the side alongside his sister Helaena. You had tried speaking to him after your engagement was announced, but there never seemed to be time. Aemond was an evasive creature, hard to catch like one of Helaena’s butterflies.

“Aemond,” you breathe him in, “many thanks, my prince.”

You stand beside him in silence for a moment as the feast continues around you. Aemond places his hands behind his back as you take a sip from your cup.

“I must admit, I did not expect to be chosen,” you tell him, warm from the wine.

“You are an excellent choice,” Aemond insists, causing you to blush.

“You are too kind, my prince,” you tell him, “your flattery shall go to my head.”

“I should hope so,” Aemond says, causing you to look at him.

He notices your empty cup, before wrapping his fingers around it, expelling it from your grip. His fingers leave a tingling sensation behind on your own.

“You are a delightful woman, you should be understanding of that,” he continues, giving the cup to a servant who passes by.

You bashfully glance toward the floor. Aemond was a kind man, something you felt ashamed to admit you never thought of before meeting him. The tales of the cold prince fluttered throughout the ladies of court just as much as Aegon’s lecherous reputation.

“Are you nervous about your wedding night?” Aemond asks, and you feel yourself blush.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you ask and he chuckles.

“You needn’t be afraid, my lady,” Aemond assures you.

There is a look in his violet eye, as though he is sure of the words he speaks. Without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that he speaks the truth. You wet your lips, looking toward the head table. Aegon is seated, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. He has just finished speaking with his mother when his gaze falls on you and Aemond.

Aegon’s eyes are half-lidded, and a lazy smile appears on his face revealing his teeth. A dragon lapping its jaws. His eyes flicker from you to Aemond, before he raises his goblet, as though toasting you both. You can feel your face drain of color.

You do hope you have not upset him.

“I suppose I should attend to my husband,” you tell Aemond, who nods in agreement. His gaze flickers about your face, as though attempting to read your thoughts.

Aegon stands when you reach him, arm lacing around your waist.

“What says, my brother?” Aegon murmurs, placing a kiss below your ear causing you to shiver.

“He wished to share his congratulations,” you inform him, as his hand reaches to stroke your cheek, maneuvering himself so he can continue to kiss your neck.

Something you’ve begun to learn about Aegon is that it is never just one kiss, a trail of them follows.

“Mhmm,” Aegon seems pleased by your answer, continuing his adoration of your neck, down to your collarbone.

You feel the color returning to your face, and spot Aemond watching from across the room. So very strange, you think to yourself, to always be passed between the stares of the dragon princes.

Later that night, the door closes behind Aegon, clicking shut.

Aegon circles you; he is a predator finally cornering his prey. His eyes hungrily indulge in your form that shows through your sheer shift. Your gown had been removed long ago, as lords prepared you for the bedding.

A chaotic moment it was, to feel tens of hands on you, pulling and tearing at the fabrics of your gowns, pulling the ornaments from your hair. Aegon was stripped as well, Cassandra Baratheon had pushed herself to the front helping herself to tear at the laces of his breeches.

Your skin feels hot under Aegon’s gaze now as you stand so bare before him, as though his eyes produce dragonfire searing your flesh.

You wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling this burning for him.

Aegon walks over to you, only wearing a loose white shirt. He reaches for a cup that lies on the table, taking a quick sip, before holding it out to you.

You take it from him, mirroring his actions.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, voice rough with desire. He is clearly holding himself back from ravishing you on the stone floor.

You feel your cheeks grow warm. This is it, this is truly happening. You find yourself nodding, eyes cast toward the floor. You wish you were not so shy, so embarrassed under his gaze. You know his experience, and you wonder what he expects of you.

Aegon clicks his tongue, placing a finger underneath your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“There is no need to be,” he assures you, giving you a comforting grin.

You cannot help but smile back, there is something about Aegon that does that. He melts the fear from your body like freshly fallen snow. He cups your cheek with his hand, bringing your mouth to his.

The kiss is passionate, he slices your lips open with his tongue before plunging it into your mouth. The feeling of his tongue in your mouth sends a sharp feeling of desire trickling down your navel to the place beneath your small clothes. Aegon’s hands are very busy, the one that guides your face trails down to hold your waist, pressing you against him while the other cups your bottom.

All the while he is walking you backward, toward the bed. He is very skilled; you cannot help but notice how easy it is for him to guide you, to touch and squeeze you in places that have you gasping against his mouth.

“Do not be afraid,” Aegon murmurs, “I prepared this evening with only your utmost pleasure in mind.”

As he says this, his fingers find their way underneath your shift, touching you through your small clothes. He lets out a moan at the wetness he finds there, before pushing his fingers past the barrier, stroking them through your silky folds.

You let out a dramatic whine, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the lewd sound. Aegon merely takes this as encouragement, teasing at your entrance with his finger.

“I have to get you ready,” he tells you, through his kisses, before pushing a finger into your constricting, wet heat.

He curls the digit within you, pressing his thumb against the sensitive bud that lies at the top of your folds, causing you to writhe against him at the newfound bliss.

“That’s it,” he says, drinking in your mewls and moans, before slipping a second finger inside of you.

“Aegon, oh,” you moan against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, slowly working you open. He sinks his teeth into your lower lip and something peaks inside of you, causing pleasure to roll across your skin, down your spine, all the way to your toes.

Your legs wobble, as Aegon leads you toward the bed, tearing your shift over your head, leaving you naked before him. His eyes trail down your figure, truly devouring you as though a man famished. A smile breaks out across his face.

“Lay back, my love,” he instructs, removing the remainder of his clothes as you obey him.

He climbs on top of you, kissing you again, lips trailing down your neck, over the swell of your breasts. He lavishes the peaks of your breasts with attention, tongue swirling around your nipples. You can feel his cock nudging at your entrance and take a breath.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, kissing the tip of your nose, “I’m right here with you, bite on me if you need.”

You nod as he begins to push into you, the stretch causing you to gasp. It is much more than his fingers, and you find yourself taking him up on his offer, sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

Aegon whines at this, hips slapping against you. The pain ebbs at that moment, a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

You make love like that for quite some time, Aegon finding his release, emptying his seed deep within your womb. But he is not a man easily satisfied. Nearly moments after his release, his cock hardens, and he turns you around on your hands and knees to take you as though he is more beast than man.

You do not mind, the new position sends moans pouring from your mouth as he plows you into the feathered pillows.

There is a sharp knock on the door, causing your head to snap up. You turn slightly to look behind you at Aegon, panic flashing across your face. His smile is wide as he continues to drill into you so hard your arms shake trying to hold yourself up.

“Enter!” Aegon calls.

“Aegon!” you desperately call, earning a sharp slap on your backside.

What the seven hells is he doing?

The door is heard opening, and footsteps in the antechamber. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you can’t stop whimpering as Aegon’s cock splits you in two.

“Come in, come in,” Aegon says, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts harder, faster.

Your eyes are wide as you hold up your lolling head, prepared to meet the eyes of some knight who shall surely be utterly horrified at the sight of Prince Aegon ruining his new bride in this animalistic position.

You instead see Aemond Targaryen.

Shame courses through you, and you feel as though your entire body has ignited in flames. You meet his eye but quickly look away, letting your elbows fall into the feather mattress. Aegon’s strokes slow, but do not stop.

“Brother,” he says, rather formally, “was there something you needed?”

Aemond is staring at you, watching as you try to hide your face, your body from him.

“My lady,” Aemond addresses you directly. Always a polite man. Seven hells.

You do not answer, fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. Perhaps Aegon can fuck you so hard into the mattress you shall disappear altogether. Aegon has different plans. He tangles a hand in your hair, lifting your head, and forcing you to look at Aemond.

“My brother addressed you, dearest,” Aegon says, “do not be rude.”

A whimper leaves your lips.

“My prince,” you someone managed to say, as Aegon has begun to increase the rhythm of his strokes.

Aemond nods, slowly walking closer to the bed. You do not know where to look, you wish he would not approach you. Surely whatever he needed could be attained at a different time.

“Tell me, my lady,” Aegon asks, “do you think me unobservant?”

His fingers dig into your waist, as he snaps forward. Your head is spinning from the pleasure, the embarrassment, the excitement, and the confusion. Surely you are dreaming.

“What?” you ask, voice a strangled moan.

“I see the way you look at him,” Aegon says, a matter of factly, “much like how you look at me.”

Aemond is right in front of you now, watching as Aegon plunges himself into you. Your breath comes in pants, sure that Aegon is displeased, that he means to punish you in some way.

“Do you like how my brother fucks you?” Aemond asks, bringing a hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

The question stuns you. Tears spring from the corner of your eyes.

“Yes!” you cry out and Aemond hums at your response.

“I told you Aegon was not usually kind,” Aemond said, letting his thumb stroke over your bottom lip; a shiver rolls through you.

“She likes it, brother,” Aegon says, snapping his hips against you.

“I do,” you moan in agreement, as Aegon’s cock massages a spot within you that makes your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

“That’s it,” Aegon says, bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, using your slick arousal to fondle the precious pearl that lies hidden there.

You release a moan, a tangled mess of both their names.

“Hear that brother?” Aemond teases, “even with you inside of her she calls for me.”

Aegon yanks you up by your hair, a deliciously painful sensation on your scalp as he drags you flush against him. He remains nestled inside of you, as his lips find your ear.

“Do you like him better?” Aegon taunts, placing a wet kiss on your neck. You can feel his smile; he is teasing you, taunting you.

“No..” you moan, “I want…I-”

How can you possibly tell them what you want? What you desire?

“What dear wife?” Aegon says, lazily thrusting up into you, “tell me what you desire and I shall make it so.”

You whimper against him, as he holds your hips guiding them up and down on his thick shaft.

“I want you both,” you murmur, an embarrassed whisper.

The brothers are silent for a moment, the sound of soft, wet slapping the only noise in the room despite the small whimpers that leave your mouth.

“You heard her,” Aegon says, causing your eyes to snap open.

“Say it again,” Aemond demands, still standing at the foot of the bed, watching you intently.

“I want you both,” you repeat, more confidently this time.

“Greedy, greedy wife,” Aegon purrs, as his hand curls around your breast.

He lifts you from his cock, twisting you onto your back before re-entering you, placing one of your legs on his shoulder so he can thrust into you deeper. Your head hangs from the side of the bed, as he pounds into you.

“What am I to do with such a greedy, lustful wife?” he taunts, placing a kiss on your breast, and stretching your hamstring until the burn is almost unbearable.

You wonder if this is what it shall be like to be married to a Targaryen, always a constant state of burning.

“Brother?” he calls, never relenting his strokes, “help me with my wife, will you?”

Aemond moves to the side of the bed, and within an instance, his breeches fall revealing his cock. It is not as thick as Aegon’s though it still has a girth that makes your eyes widen.

“Get him ready,” Aegon tells you when you do nothing but gawk at Aemond’s cock that stands erect in front of you.

“How?” you ask, unsure of the next steps.

“With your mouth,” Aegon directs, “get him nice and ready and I’ll let him fuck you kindly.”

A thrill runs through you at the thought and Aemond steps forward. You unhook your jaw and let him slide his hot length through your parted lips.

Aemond’s pace is different than Aegon’s, as though he is holding back from fucking your throat relentlessly. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat causing you to gag.

Aegon moans at that.

“Do that again,” he says, lifting your leg off his shoulder to hold it in the air.

Aemond rolls his hips forward gently, causing you to gag again. Aegon groans at the noise.

“Fuck that’s a pretty sound,” Aegon moans, rolling his hips in such a way that makes your toes curl with pleasure.

“Seven hells,” Aemond hisses when you hollow your cheeks, and experiment with moving your tongue.

Aemond brings his hands to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your pebbled nipples.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Aegon says, “I knew the moment I saw her I had to have her.”

“As did I,” Aemond says, causing you to whimper around his cock.

You feel so unbelievably full from both ends, unaware that it was possible to feel this amount of pleasure. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes, as you feel Aegon’s thumb begin to circle the sensitive pearl at the apex of your thighs.

You feel your thighs begin to tremble, as Aegon continues his attention. Your moans and gags grow louder around Aemond’s cock, the room filling with wet sounds. The pleasure builds and you find your release, cunt clenching around Aegon’s cock. He makes a breathless noise as he feels you tighten around him.

“Seven hells,” Aegon moans, before unsheathing himself from you, “what a good girl you are.”

You cannot answer, due to Aemond’s cock in your mouth and your hazy brain coming down from your orgasm. Aegon chuckles.

“Go on then,” he says to Aemond, “be sweet to her.”

Aegon climbs off the bed, positioning himself in a chair, and fisting his still-hard cock. Aemond removes his cock from your mouth, a trail of spit connecting you to the tip. Aegon bites his lip at the sight.

Aemond maneuvers you on the bed, gently cradling your head until it rests on a pillow. His touch is different from Aegon’s, not as rough, not as hasty. You look at your husband, his eyes are dark with lust.

“What about you?” you ask, voice shaky. He grins at your words, head tilting backward.

“I know,” he purrs, “I’m being awfully generous, and on my wedding night as well.”

He pumps his cock again using the slick from your cunt, his flushed tip weeping precum.

“You are my wife,” Aegon says, as though reminding you.

You turn your head toward Aemond, who now hovers above you.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, eye flickering to your lips.

What an odd question to ask when his cock has already been in your mouth.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Aemond leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss.

You can feel his thighs brush against yours, his heavy cock nudging your legs apart. He reaches a hand down, barely having to try with how wet you are, sliding inside your tight warm heat with ease.

You moan against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close to you. Aemond is different, he feels different inside of you. He slowly rolls his hips against you, a gentle, even pace that has you clutching the hair at the nape of his neck.

Aemond moves his mouth to your neck, kissing the hot flesh. Your head turns to the side, watching Aegon tug himself at the sight of Aemond fucking you. His mouth hangs open, lips curling into a smirk. Aemond’s head is buried in the other side of your neck, his pants music to your ears.

You drop a hand from Aemond’s shoulders, reaching toward Aegon. He rises from the chair almost instantly and you wrap your hand around his neck. He covers your mouth in a hot kiss, laying beside you. Aemond lifts himself up, before unsheathing himself from you, laying on the other side.

You turn to face Aegon, as Aemond lifts your leg, to continue to fuck you as you lay on your side. Your mouth falls open at a new angle, the tightness allows your cunt to swallow Aemond’s cock.

Aegon kisses you, his hand reaching between your legs. A desperate moan is swallowed by your husband, and you reach your hand to stroke him as well.

“That's it,” he says against your mouth. Aemond bites into your shoulder.

“Gods,” you breathe a pathetic whine that causes both men to chuckle.

“Close,” Aegon murmurs, “this is how a queen should be treated. Do you agree?”

You nod desperately.

“You are a dream,” Aegon purrs, “a delectable dream.”

You cry out as your second orgasm washes over you, you feel Aemond find his release as well, spilling his hot seed inside of you.

Aegon continues rubbing you until you’re pushing against him, pleading with him to release you. He does not, only rolls you off Aemond’s softening cock and onto his, having you straddle him. Aegon pulls you down, not allowing you to ride him (that shall be for another occasion). Instead, he holds you flat against his chest, beginning to jackhammer up into you, chasing his release.

You become a babbling mess, clenched so tightly when Aegon finds his release, your cunt milking him for all he is worth. You droop off of Aegon, falling in the space between the brothers, shaking from the pleasure you received, their mingled releases spilling from your entrance.

You feel Aemond place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, as Aegon moves a strand of hair from your brow.

“I am afraid some of my reputation, holds water,” Aegon admits, fingers trailing down your chest.

You hum, unable to form words.

“But I am not a selfish lover,” Aegon continues, “you are my wife, and I shan’t deny what brings you pleasure.”

You can feel Aemond growing hard again, as his cock presses against your backside. Aegon’s hand cups your breast, squeezing it softly.

“Is that alright?” Aegon asks, though his amused expression seems to already know the answer.

You flutter your lashes at him, leaning into Aemond, before answering with a tired smile and a nod.

It was to be a long night, shared between the dragon princes.

note: I couldn't pick and I wanted both SUE ME 😤😩🥵

taglist: @afro-hispwriter, @aemondsb1tch, @twobluejeans, @s0urmarvel, @fan-goddess, @the-phantom-of-arda, @cicaspair418, @loxbbg, @arraxthatsonjah, @missbeeentertainment, @maximizedrhythms, @xdeath-soulx , @wrendermeuseless, @hiatuswhore, @sho1407, @minttea07, @arkainea, @elissanatok, @alitaar, @bellaisasleep, @itsleniiilosers, @cassiopeia-black-brenda, @bogwaterswamp, @applepie02, @youngestxhearts, @aurabluestar, @watersquirtpewpewboomm, @w3ird11, @minttea07, @hopebaker, @banana-man0, @m1ndbrand @itsleniiilosers, @for-fuck-sake-im-alive, @duckworthbean, @lunamadhatter99, @mss-nthng, @heavenly1927,@jamespotterismydaddy, @f4ll-for-you, @yentroucnagol, @crazylokonugget, @ugh-my-back, @sweetniasblog @herfantasyworldd, @here-for--the-fun, @zoleea-exultant, @howdoichangemynameto, @wasntpriscilla, @avadakadabra93, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @i-killed-ramsey

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bucca2 · 1 year ago

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angel of small death (könig x reader)

the new recruit gets on könig's nerves.

3rd person, König's pov, she/her pronouns for reader, rivals to lovers, romance, slow burn, König does not trust pretty women who act interested in him, reader is determined to jump this man's bones

1k words

tw: none really, just swearing and König gets a boner at the end

besties I don't even know what this is. I was listening to angel of small death and the codeine scene by hozier and went "yeah we all love when König is creepy and stalkery and insistent towards the object of his obsession affections, but what if his love interest was the one pursuing him". enjoy this lil tidbit before shrike ch3! I'll probably write more about these two, it's a fun dynamic.

König knows how to read people.

It was a survival instinct. Reading into every micro-expression, every intonation in a voice, every shift of the shoulders. As a child, it served him well predicting what torment his bullies planned to inflict on him. As a soldier, he knew how to read his coworkers and establish that he was not to be fucked with. He had a reputation, and he was proud of it. Perhaps it was a little isolating, being the giant boogeyman of the base, but loneliness was not new to him. He knew how to deal with loneliness.

He doesn’t know how to deal with her.

The new recruit flutters onto base entirely unlike a soldier of her caliber. Flutters is really the only way to describe her, regardless of the way she moves physically. She’s the definition of a social butterfly—whether her candor is genuine, or a mask to hide a deep well of insecurity and anxiety is anybody’s guess. But there’s a grace to the way she manages to endear herself to nearly everyone, regardless of the friend groups and casual cliques the soldiers have formed.

Except König.

Oh, bite him. What was he supposed to think when she full body slammed into him coming around the corner, and then looked up at him with that mischievous glimmer in her eye?

“Whoa, you are one huge motherfucker!” she says, the profanity slipping out of her without hesitation. If she were any other woman, perhaps some nice little civilian lady, her wide smile and twinkling eyes would have turned him to mush. But instead, it puts him on his guard. The boys who bullied him as a child hurt him with their fists. The girls cloaked their insults with honey, with cloying little chirps about his size before crushing what little self-confidence his height afforded him. Just some awkward lanky giant who takes up too much space.

He glares down at her, eyes boring into her from behind the hood. “Watch where you’re going, recruit.” He stalks off down the hallway, but not before he hears her tut and exclaim “what crawled up his ass?” to the coworker she was walking with.

He doesn’t want to know anything about her. He’s not interested, he tells himself, in learning about who she is. But he learns anyway, from hearing snippets of conversation around the base.

She’s on the young side for their line of work, but she’s good. She’s a dead-on shot with a gun, and a whiz with throwing knives. Her specialty, of course, is sniping. König bends the metal fork he’s eating with in his fist when he hears this particular tidbit. Of course, she has the job he wanted when he first joined special forces. Of course she would be outstanding in the one thing he wasn’t allowed to do.

He tries to avoid her—it irritates him, how goddamn pleasant she is. Friendly, outgoing, warm. All adjectives that nobody would apply to him. He was hoping his cold initial reception would keep her away, but she seems almost determined to pop up wherever he finds himself. If he’s eating with the others, she’s nearby, perched on a table and making everyone near her laugh. If he’s at target practice, she’s there, shooting bullets through the same hole punched in the target almost every time. (He has to admit, that does impress him. He knows enough to recognize a master at work.) If he’s getting coffee to stave off his sleepiness, she’s at the coffee maker, engaged in conversation that annoys him with its peppiness.

He somehow makes it a whole week without having something resembling a proper conversation with her, and he was liking it just fine that way. Alas, there’s a mission briefing, and now she’s walking up to him beaming, hand outstretched.

“Hey, big guy! We haven’t been properly introduced yet, have we?” König looks down at her hand, then back to her face.

“König.” He watches with a nasty bit of smugness as her smile falters for a moment and she drops her hand.

“König, huh? German for king.” It happens so fast, he can barely register what’s happening. She steps closer to him, her voice lowering a whole octave. “Impressive callsign for an impressive man.”

The room suddenly shrinks, and the low chatter of the others filing into the room and exchanging pleasantries fades away. She’s close, so close to him that if he weren’t wearing a mask, he’s sure she would feel his breath. She runs a single fingernail across his torso, right over his pecs, and an involuntary shudder runs through him.

“The name’s Monarch.” He watches, frozen like a marble statue, as she looks up at him through her lashes. It’s undeniably sensual, but there’s the faintest touch of venom in her teasing tone. Her eyes are still as bright as always, but there’s a sharpness to them. He’s only seen this look on her in one situation: the split second between her letting out her breath and her pulling the trigger on a sniper rifle at the range. It’s calm. Collected. The deadly gaze of a confident predator before she blows a target’s head off. He wonders if she’s imagining his head exploding right now.

For the first time in a long time, he feels vulnerable, laid bare in this perplexing and irritating woman’s gaze. Monarch. He’d snort if he wasn’t trapped like a mosquito in amber. Of course she’d have a callsign like that. He’d thought her a butterfly this whole time: fluttery and pretty, but ultimately harmless to him personally.

Now, he feels like he’s staring down a checkmate.

“I look forward to working with you,” she purrs.

In an instant, the moment is gone. Whatever bubble she had encapsulated him in pops, and the mess of overlapping conversations and shuffling feet surges into his senses, like someone pressing the fast forward button. He blinks, and she’s already moved away, bouncy and energetic as she greets another coworker. He’s never been so confused in his entire life.

He sits down before anyone can notice his throbbing hard erection.

if you want a visual on what I was imagining when Monarch touches his pecs, it's exactly what Black Cat does in this video (time stamped)

youtube

yes, I did at some point have the thought "this would make a really good plot with Ghost" but I think Ghost's thing is that he's stoic and keeps people at a distance because he doesn't want to get close to someone and put them at risk. with König he doesn't trust people who are sweet and kind to people all the time because he has trusted people who were kind to him before, and they took advantage of him. alas, this König did not have a Thorn in his life. but Monarch is a thorn in his side!

also. monarch. butterfly. monarch as in king. my brain is so huge (I have impressed myself by coming up with the most surface level metaphors)

I'm not overly pleased with how short this is, but I was trying to capture the attitude of these two characters, so it's kind of like establishing a certain mood. I have PLANS for Monarch though. she's a freaky little lady.

as usual, please send me your feedback, brainrot, literally anything you have to say about these two I want to hear!! I mean this so sincerely. they live in my head rent-free. (also if you want to be tagged drop a reply)

one last thing before I go: I love troubled birds so much. you can't convince me that the one in the moodboard (moodboards are so hard to make, wtf? I have renewed respect for authors who make moodboards as their fic images) and this one are so Königcore

#bucca writes #fic: angel of small death #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #Youtube

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ateez-himari · 5 months ago

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PRAY : HIDDEN FOOTAGE

A more private aspect of the relationship between the industry's producing sibling duo as camera follows them behind the scenes.

June 26, 2024 (6:30PM)

CONTENT WARNING: This article contains mentions of parental loss following a car collision, discussions of mental health, allusions to suicidal tendencies and talk of an unhealthy childhood. Please read at your own discretion.

To celebrate the one year anniversary of an emotional collaboration that also served as the very first solo release of a talented vocalist, BANGTANTV in partnership with KQ ENTERTAINMENT uploaded a two part documentary showcasing the process behind the single 'Pray' by Agust D and Himari. Throughout the years people have come to build these siblings an untouchable reputation through the title 'Hands of Midas', in reference to their incredible musical genius, so it was only natural for netizens to be interested in their work behind the scenes. However, it seems as though they received much more than they had bargained for when heartbreaking stories of the past were recalled by the artists to explain the mindset of each track.

In order to help viewers understand why the pair resemble each other in such a striking manner despite being linked legally rather than through blood, a short rundown of their history was given in the first few minutes. Prior to the tragic accident both families were very close friends and due to this bond the rapper has been in his younger sister's life since her birth, later playing a huge role in raising her following the adoption. While their parents were not detached from their lives, they did work a lot, and with the eldest living his own life it was left to the remaining brothers to take care of her. The girl's biological sibling however was dealing with a lot of physical as well as mental difficulties at the time, which meant that he was in no state to carry out such a huge responsibility.

'I was left with a lot of injuries from the accident so I couldn't move much at the time, and the grief put me in a really dark situation. Because she was still very young she couldn't deal with it properly and was always happy instead...so I couldn't find a way to approach her to take care of her.' Hanzo said in an interview with Cosmopolitan Korea

This paved the way into the conversation that took place while each wrote their respective verses in the side track 'Snooze', and here is what we now know. The middle brother took ever chance available to come home to her, yet these moments were unfortunately few and far between, leaving the family's youngest with no other option than to grow up quickly in order to adjust to an independent lifestyle in the midst of grief. In the refrain along with the first verse Agust D talks about acknowledging life's hardships, some originating from the music industry, all the while reassuring whoever is listening that it is alright to show weakness and lean on somebody.

'They're [the lyrics] what I would have wanted to tell you back then but looking at them makes me realize how much I missed.' Yoongi admitted. 'I regret it a lot you know, seeing that the more I came home, the quicker you seemed to grow up. You saw a lot of things because of me, all of them I wish to take back.'

The last piece of this statement was lightly touched upon in later footage, revealing that the young woman was made to take care of her brother rather often due to him being stuck in a very dark place at the time, leaving him too mentally distant to raise her, with certain anecdotes suggesting she might have been witness to events that were traumatizing for a mere child. While no speculations will be made on this very delicate matter, it is clear that something much deeper has bonded these siblings together, as the man who very rarely cries on camera could be seen tearing up holding his sister.

'When I listened to The Last, I remember throwing up afterwards.' Himari recalled. 'The emotions were just too much and I think it was my body's way of dealing with them, since I never truly got closure. I was terrified back then, having to pull you out this often, but I don't blame you for it. If anything I feel relieved that someone was there at the time, even if it had to be me.'

With the discussion that followed being extremely personal we have decided not to summarize it, so for those who wish to listen, it can be found at the 25 minute mark in the first part of the documentary which can be found on BANGTANTV. We advise viewers to watch at their own discretion as it contains mentions of attempted suicide and deep childhood trauma, as well as heavy mental distress. What can be said in short however is that we now understand why the maknae tends to act childishly, as there was never truly a time in the two year period preceding training that she had the opportunity to live as one.

While devastating aspects of their past were unraveled, most pieces of footage filmed on personal cameras managed to heal viewers' hearts as they showed their healed relationship, from playing around while creating to going out to cafes or PC bangs. Multiple instances of the young woman falling asleep on the couch in her brother's studio have been reposted on social media, as it led to the rapper caring for her as one would a child, demonstrating the amount of attentiveness he holds towards her.

'I raised her, so there's something more in how I see her.' He said in episode 20 of Suchwita [with Taemin] 'It's not a parental link or anything...but it feels like it sometimes.'

This nearly fatherly care for his sister was demonstrated through an anecdote in which her difficulties navigating the music industry with a near deaf ear were talked about, leading viewers to learn that due to the family's low financial status they were unable to afford a hearing aid for their youngest, seeing as they already had to pay the hospital fees. The girl being fully aware of their predicament had never mentioned need for it, yet Yoongi rapidly caught on to the struggles this new impairment brought into her daily life, such as extreme fatigue along with splitting headaches and so he set aside money following every paycheck earned during his delivery job.

'The song that fits us the most...' Himari pondered over the question asked in a solo segment. 'Maybe Mockingbird by Eminem, my brother used to play it a lot at home. There's a lot of regrets in the song, a lot of promises about protection and sacrifices just to make her [his daughter] life better. It was the same with us in a sense...I guess a good example is that back then he needed money but he saved so much just to buy me a hearing aid.'

That is not to say the youngest does not care for her brother to the same extent, as she would reassure the older artist by holding his hands when he talked about something especially painful, even wiping fallen tears whilst talking about how great a man he is. Food ordered for him would very quickly fill the studio and although claiming to have eaten well, the rapper finished every single dish, even accepting the soft pink blankets draped over him when producing sessions lasted into late at night. While not providing the same way as he had during their childhood, the vocalist shows her care through small actions that prove the amount of attention truly on him at all times.

Their heavy history is easily discernable from the way these artists embrace one another, as there never seems to have been a singular loose hug, never a moment where they did not treasure the simple fact of each other's presence. Although the rapper usually rejects skinship in front of cameras, he could be seen seeking it out throughout the documentary, always asking for a small kiss on the cheek whenever the youngest arrived or left. Sharp eyed netizens also noticed how the senior fidgeted with his rings when listening to the vulnerable lyrics written by his sister, while she on the other hand tended to zone out as if attempting to repress certain emotions.

Peace can be found through these pieces of media as the siblings have stated that despite these setbacks they have managed to find their own balance, and are now going about life with fresh scars rather than carrying old wounds. Strangely enough, having these many instances of them laughing with one another, both fandoms noticed that their smiles are practically identical which had led to sweet speculations about fate meaning for them to be one another's healing.

National Soccer Team Captain, Min Hanzo, made several appearances

With the relationship between the vocalist and her biological brother being kept away from the spotlight, it has left many wondering about whether they were truly close or if something was brewing behind closed doors that neither wished to address. This worry was however rapidly dismissed, as several videos of them inserted throughout this documentary reassured fans that the siblings' bond is even stronger than they had claimed it to be. While every single piece of footage was heart warming enough to spark conversations it was not what caught the attention of sharp eyed netizens, but rather a singular clip filmed by the rapper in which they could be seen playing basketball.

The reason behind the influx of speculative threads on the X platform was the fact that their scars from the accident seemed to complete one another's, as where the idol was marked on the right, her brother's much more prominent ones were on the left. The most popular hypothesis is that the older man would have allegedly pulled Himari into his chest in order to protect her from the impact, which seems rather convincing due to the fact that the difference in their injuries' visibility suggests he had suffered the brunt of the impact. Amateur detectives on social media also recalled that the soccer player had made a few references to the aftermath of this tragedy in the past, in which he recalls being impaired to the point of barely being able to move for days while his sister seemed to be relatively healthier.

Making History

While life has not favored these artists in their younger years, their current standing at the top of the industry reflects the diligence in the siblings' work ethic as several pieces of history have been written through their groups despite the incredible amount of challenges they were made to overcome. The senior idols are well recognized for having paved the way for future generations while their juniors are slowly catching up to their achievements, having become the first male group to perform at Coachella and the first k-pop act to grace the stage of Mawazine, the second biggest music festival.

'At times, staying in this career was terrifying.' Himari had said rather hesitantly. 'On more than one occasion I felt like it was the end, like the exhaustion was genuinely going to kill me the second I closed my eyes. So much went on behind the scenes, we would go from one schedule to another without rest and using oxygen masks to avoid fainting became common.'

Much more weight than simply performing rests on their shoulders as both hold the position of producer, alongside several members, which demands that they constantly create new melodies in the midst of their already overwhelming schedules. Their skills have no grounds to be questioned as other well renowned idols have turned to them for their own releases, the most blatant examples being soloist IU with Yoongi and SHINee member Taemin with Himari.

Closing Statement

This documentary was heart wrenching to say the least yet placed much more meaning on the single's tracks with clear connections to dark aspects of their past now being unlocked to the public, serving as a form of closure for these siblings as well. They have truly shown that trauma does not make up the entirety of an individual as both are now known for their intoxicating happiness, giving the audience a valuable lesson about mental health and healing.

REMINDER to keep streaming Golden Hour Part : 1 by ATEEZ and support Jimin's upcoming comeback 'Muse' releasing on July 19 at 1PM (KST) along with 'Type 1' photobook by V releasing on July 9.

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A/N; Please keep in mind that while Yoongi has talked about mental health in the past, this is not an accurate representation of what he has lived as this is purely a work of fiction!

#ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez 9th member #ateez extra member #ateez female member #kpop oc #himarinews♡#himarilore♡

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prettyrealm · 7 months ago

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taylor swift & travis kelce dynamic reading

this reading is a paid commision, thank you so much for trusting in me! <3 celebrity commissions • personal commissions

overall:

honestly, this dynamic is giving PR-adjacent, it doesn’t feel like it’s technically solely PR but that at the same time, the media and their reputations are basically the sole reason for being together (and they likely do a lot of things for the media too, maybe even calling the paparazzi on themselves and stuff similar to that). both of them (taylor especially) entered this relationship with the media and optics in mind. taylor felt she needed an image boost (almost in a desperate way, she really wanted people to see the good in her and liked this opportunity). taylor and travis are not happy together at all. they take this “relationship” day by day and it feels painful, not painful as in gaslighting or infidelity, but painful as in the feeling you get when you wake up in the morning and you know you have to clock into your terrible job in less than an hour and you don’t know how many more weeks you can realistically handle it. they’re both just waiting for this to be over but for some reason don’t think they can leave yet. they feel drained and both feel they could be doing better things with their time. at first, they thought this would be easy but now they’re just terribly bored. they have nothing to talk about or (anything fun) to do together, they have zero of the same interests and find it hard to even hold basic conversations with the other person. not only do they not have anything to talk about, they can actually leave the conversations they do have feeling pretty bad at times, travis has a way of accidentally triggering taylor (and he may even tease her at times which she doesn’t appreciate, though she also seems to not say anything about it either). she has a long term plan with this relationship though, so she’s okay with dealing with temporary discomfort if it’ll make her future brighter. while they both entered this relationship with image in mind, taylor was more calculated about it and travis saw more actual potential in it (and still sometimes thinks so), when it ends it’s likely that taylor won’t be hurt at all, but travis may feel a bit slighted. zero romantic feelings here. they are definitely not each others soulmate, that’s for sure.

how travis kelce sees taylor swift:

travis sees taylor as the greatest pop star in the world right now, and he has a hard time seeing past her image (blonde all american girl, songwriter that writes about her exes) and viewing her as an actual person. i think he only ever really sees two sides of her, pop-star taylor and business woman taylor. so when he isn’t stuck on her image, he just sees a strong, powerful (but bossy) woman (who’s friendly enough and good at networking). he thinks she’s a true business woman and really gets to see the extent of how business-oriented and career driven she is behind the scenes (he can tell she has a lot of knowledge here and knows what she’s doing). travis definitely wants the relationship to keep going more than she does because he knows she’s the most famous and powerful person out right now (he sees how much money her name moves), he likes being tied to someone so famous.

how taylor swift sees travis kelce:

taylor sees as on the same page as her when it comes to their overall goals (for ex. it’s not like she calls the paparazzi on them unbeknownst to him, he knows exactly what’s going on). overall however, she thinks he’s super stupid. she’s had problems explaining things to him because he just doesn’t understand it and she doesn’t get why. she thinks he’s super immature and literally acts like a teenage boy, which is super unattractive to her - this is not her type of guy at all. she thinks he’s weird and the things he thinks are funny are bizarre and strange to her (it’s like someone belly laughing at a comedy movie you think is extremely corny and bad). she’s shocked that someone can even be this way, he leaves her baffled often. she also worries about him saying the wrong thing to other people in case it reflects badly on her (since she thinks he isn’t a smart or tactful speaker). she’s often shocked at how relationship-y and coupley he tries to act with her at times and she thinks it really crosses the line (for ex. if they do call the paparazzi on themselves he might really play up the affection or something and she’s like, “ok you know you don’t need to be doing that much”). but this can also even happen behind the scenes, which confuses taylor even more, for ex. say they’re at an event and she’s talking to another guy, later he’ll be like, “so who was that guy?” and she’s like “??? why are you even asking me that when you know what this is? are you really trying to act jealous right now?”. he frustrates her often.

#tarot #celebrity tarot reading #celebrity tarot #piano tarot #dynamic reading #taylor swift tarot #taylor swift #travis kelce #commission

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e-dubbc11 · 3 months ago

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Hi! 🙋🏻‍♀️

Reading “Always Her Hero” again got me thinking…exactly what traits do Dylan & Billy share?

“And your son, Dylan, well, let’s just say he’s more like you in ways you hoped he would have been more like his mother.”

Hello my dear friend!

First of all, this gif? Swoon! Fun fact…I found and purchased those sunglasses from that scene. Took me awhile to find them but I won!

Thank you for sending in this ask, for always supporting my writing and loving this little family as much as you do.

I hope you like what I did here ♥️

Be Like You

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader, Anna Raven, and Teenager Dylan

Warnings: a couple of swear words? Maybe? Teenage angst, and fluff

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: Lately, Dylan has been moody, quiet, and acting…well, like his father. You and Billy would like to know what’s wrong but like Billy, you hate to push so it’s best to tread lightly. He just needs a bit of a talking to. Part of the Sweetest Pain Series. I’ll leave the link to the Masterlist HERE

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Your brother is growing up to be really cute, Anna.” Sofie said with raised eyebrows and biting down on her lower lip.

Little Raven’s friends, Sofie and Hannah, were home for Christmas break. You, Anna, and Billy survived Little Raven being away for her first year of college and now she was home until January.

Behind the kitchen door, you were eavesdropping on Anna and her friends while they were watching a movie. They had just watched Dylan go upstairs to his room and commented on how handsome he was becoming.

Physically, Dylan looked just like Billy. He had the wild dark brown hair, the ink like eyes and that smile, that perfect and irresistible Russo smile that was hard to say “no” to. Even when he was little, he knew when to use that smile.

Pictures from Billy’s childhood were non-existent until he joined the service and then he had his picture taken after he graduated from boot camp.

Comparing side by side pictures of Dylan and his father, they could be twins and even though they were slightly older, Anna’s friends had noticed Dylan was growing up to be very handsome.

“Ew, gross you guys, that’s my brother!” Said Anna.

“Yeah but he’s REALLY cute!” Hannah exclaimed.

You didn’t notice that Billy had crept up behind you, the man was extremely light on his feet and without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and whispered in your ear.

“What are we doin’?” He asked.

You nearly jumped out of your skin but tried to stay as quiet as possible.

“OH MY GOD!! BILLY!! You scared the shit outta me!” You whisper yelled at him.

“What else is new? I scare you all the time, sweet girl.” He said with a wide smile.

You glared at him playfully and said, “You are freakishly light on your feet, that is not normal, lieutenant.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, my love. But what are we doing?” Billy asked again.

“Little Raven’s friends have a crush on Dylan.” You said softly and in a concerned tone.

“You say like that’s a bad thing, baby.” Said Billy. “He’s a good lookin’ kid, like his father.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to smile. Billy wasn’t wrong but Dylan was starting to exhibit behaviors like his father used to before you walked into his life and into his tattoo shop.

You didn’t find out until after he started tattooing you that he stopped his playboy ways like going out with different women all the time, and flirting with every woman that walked into his shop.

Billy could have any woman he wanted. He was charming, handsome, and his smile made you weak in the knees. And his son was following in his footsteps, he had girls at his school falling all over him and he would take a different girl out every week.

“Billy I don’t want him having that kind of reputation. No girl likes that, baby.” You said.

“I should talk to him, huh?” Asked Billy. “I guess I never really cared what kind of reputation I had at 16 either.”

Your husband looked unsure of how to handle the situation and almost angry at himself for possibly passing on certain personality traits to his son. Anna Raven was guilty of it too but Dylan could be quite moody at times, he would shut down and not want to talk about what’s bothering him or tell you if anything was wrong, and he was growing up to be a very handsome young man, to which he was hyper aware of.

And now that you were thinking about it, Dylan started to exhibit this type of behavior more so after Billy felt comfortable enough to tell both of his children about the way he grew up. They were old enough now where they could handle the truth.

Snaking your arms around his neck, you pulled Billy’s forehead to yours then gently pressed your lips to his. You wanted to reassure him that you were raising two great kids, one of them just needed a little extra guidance than the other right now.

“Baby, I think Dylan needs a little bit of a behavioral adjustment. I know how long It took you to finally open up to me, to tell me if anything is bothering you, learn that attachments weren’t a weakness. Hell, it took you over 6 years to tell me that you had feelings for me! I know it’s still difficult sometimes but I don’t want the same thing for Dylan.” You said.

You continued.

“It started pretty much right after you told the kids about your mom and growing up in a group home. We know how Anna felt about it by the tears streaming down her face when you were finished talking but Dylan…he didn’t say much.” You said softly.

Billy kissed your forehead and said, “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

He walked out of the kitchen and headed toward the stairs, Anna and her friends said hello and went back to watching their movie.

You waited a minute before following Billy up the stairs, mostly because you were concerned about Dylan but also you were incredibly nosey.

Before you reached the top of the stairs, you heard Billy knock on Dylan’s door.

“Dylan? Can I come in?” Asked Billy.

Dylan replied, “Yeah…sure.”

You crept up to Dylan’s door, Billy left it cracked, maybe he did it on purpose because he knew you were nosey and you wanted to hear what was being said but maybe not. Through the small opening in the door, you could see Billy sitting in Dylan’s desk chair and your son was sitting on the floor with a video game controller in his hand.

They were sitting side by side as you gazed fondly at father and son, they looked so much alike. Dylan was just a younger version of Billy and you thought Dylan could play a younger version of Billy in a movie.

“Whatcha playin?” Billy asked.

Dylan furiously pushed a couple of the buttons on the controller before answering his father.

“Street Fighter II. I’m trying to get better so I can beat Mom.” Replied Dylan.

Billy chuckled, “You’re never going to beat your mother at that game. Before she got pregnant with Anna, I took everyone out to celebrate her birthday at a bar where they had old video games. Your mother beat every person that challenged her in that game. She didn’t even lose a round, let alone a match.” He said.

Biting down on your thumb, you stopped yourself from laughing but your body was shaking uncontrollably. You remembered that night like it was yesterday and how drunk you got on the tequila shots Frank was feeding you.

“Oh I’m gonna beat her, one of these days, Dad. Bet on it.” Said Dylan.

Billy leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together.

“That’s the right attitude to have, buddy.” Billy said.

“But that’s not why you came in here, is it, Dad.” Dylan said, shaking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes.

“No, it’s not.” Billy said, followed by a short pause. “I came in here to ask you if something is bothering you or if you wanted to talk about anything. Lately, you’ve been walkin’ around here in a mood, not sayin’ a whole lot.”

Still playing his game and staring at the television, Dylan’s mouth downturned and he shook his head back and forth. He finally said, “Nope, I’m fine.”

In a concerned tone, Billy said, “You know you can come to mom and me if you’re havin’ a hard time.”

Nonchalantly and not even phased, Dylan said, “Yeah Dad, I know.”

Your son was just like his father and didn’t want to be pushed into talking when he wasn’t ready. You learned early on in your relationship with Billy not to push too hard if he wasn’t ready to talk about something. It would only push him further away so you let him do it on his own terms like gently approaching a scared animal so they wouldn’t run away.

Billy understood that his son didn’t want to talk at the moment so he got up to leave. As he started to walk toward the door, Dylan stopped him in his tracks.

His expression saddened but then his cheeks flushed with anger as you heard Dylan ask his father, “She never came back for you, did she, Dad.”

Dylan’s tone was somber and he tried to hold back the hitch in his voice but he couldn’t help it. Those words broke your heart all over again, thinking about how Billy’s mother just abandoned him like she did, and left him to grow up in a cold and cruel environment of a group home.

Has Dylan just been holding that inside this whole time since Billy told him the story? He was just alone thinking about how Billy didn’t grow up with a family, that he had to do everything alone, and how she should have been there to protect him.

Billy turned to face his son and replied, “No Dylan, she didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I know Mom gets on my case sometimes about wanting to talk about what’s bothering me but I’d hate to think about it if she just left and I didn’t have her anymore. So I’m sorry you never had that.” Said Dylan.

“It’s ok, buddy. And I don’t know if your mother will ever know how much she’s helped me. She’s always been so patient with me and she’s made me a better person so I can be a good father to you and your sister.” Said Billy.

His words brought tears to your eyes.

“I’ll try to be better about talking to you guys if something’s bothering me.” Dylan said with a slight smile.

Billy returned the smile, the smile that was just like his.

Billy replied, “Don’t be like me. I learned the hard way, it’s not good to keep stuff inside.”

As he started to walk toward the door again, Dylan said, “Dad?”

Billy stopped, “Yeah bud?” He asked.

“It’s not so bad being like you.” Dylan said, his lips curled up to reveal that million-dollar smile.

Not knowing how to react, Billy stood there speechless while your heart swelled at your son’s heartfelt words to his father.

With a slight hitch in his voice, Billy replied, “Thanks buddy.” He paused to compose himself and then said, “Oh and Mom said take it easy with the playboy attitude. You’re a good lookin’ kid but you don’t have to go around breakin’ girls’ hearts all over school, you got it?”

“Sure Dad.” Said Dylan.

“You can do that when you get to college.” Billy said with a sly smile.

That’s when you charged into the room.

“BILLY RUSSO!!” You shouted.

“HA! I knew you were listening, baby.” Billy laughed while you glared at him. “Ok, ok…We’re serious, Dylan. Pull up a little bit, yeah? You have plenty of time for that but I will say when you finally find that person you’re meant to be with…it is so much better.”

Billy snaked an arm around your waist, pulled you in close to him and kissed your temple. The two of you fit perfectly together, like his body was molded exactly to fit yours.

Dylan rolled his eyes a little, both of your kids were always just slightly embarrassed when you and Billy would show any affection for each other.

You gave Billy a kiss on the cheek, you caught the faint scent of green soap and laundry detergent on his shirt and the bristles of his beard tickled your lips.

“Alright Dylan, keep practicin’ that game, maybe someday you’ll be able to beat me.” You said as you and Billy started to leave the room.

“What if I challenge you to a match right now?” Dylan asked coyly.

Billy replied, “Oh you really shouldn’t have done that, son. Look, your mother’s eyes are actually glowing!”

Reaching out for the controller, you could feel the excitement in your stomach as you sat down to play video games with your son. He might be 16, but he’ll always be your baby boy.

“I’m not gonna take it easy on you, Dylan.” You said.

“I don’t want you to, Mom. I wanna beat you fair and square.” Said Dylan.

Billy had a proud look on his face. He knew that Dylan would always try his hardest and always try to make himself better in whatever he decides to do…just like his father does.

For not having a model to work from at being a parent, Billy was a pretty fantastic dad. From day one, he wanted his children to know that he would always be there for them for whatever they needed and make sure they knew how loved they were. It wasn’t always easy but Billy finally had the family that he had always wanted.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @celestialend @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #the sweetest pain series #tattoo artist billy russo #anna raven #dylan william

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white-poppie · 2 years ago

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𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞

Character: Mafia!Sakusa x Civillian!Reader (Based on the poll) Genre: Mafia AU, Yandere Warnings: blood WC: 0.5k+ Writer:@white-poppie

~ Synopsis: "When Sakusa meets a kind and fearless stranger with similar taste, he can't help but fulfil their rather vicious desires."

~ Note: This is very rushed! My exams are starting soon and I wanted to gift something to you guys before I vanish *poof*

Sakusa was a level-headed man. Smart, cunning and sometimes even manipulative if he might. It wasn't a choice, it was a necessity in the profession he was in.

But right now he was submerged in the twilight zone of obsession and desire. Since he met you, he hasn’t been himself.

Sakura Kiyoomi, the leader of the Japanese Yakuza faction called ‘The Black Jackals’ has a history of distaste for humans in general. He is just slightly concerned about his hygiene and health. As a child, he suffered from a weak immune system. Therefore, as he grew older and the responsibility of the gang came upon his shoulders, he had to be even more cautious about getting sick.

He first saw you at a museum he was visiting. He liked to see his crime scene before committing the crime. He was casually looking at the pieces until one of them caught his eye. A fierce-looking woman in a black dress stood on a medieval balcony looking towards the sky. Her eyes were red and distant and her beauty was so enthralling, one could almost ignore the blood on her figure.

It was spellbinding, the way he automatically moved closer to the frame, until his chest came into contact with something soft. He looked down to see a person, brows scrunched up in distaste, but with a very unkind smile on their face.

"Apologies," he said gruffly and you were taken aback by how melodic his voice sounded unlike his clothes, which looked like he had walked straight out of a 12-year-old girl's fantasy.

"It's fine," you sighed, "you may have to be the second one mesmerized by Madame Hien's beauty."

He tilted his head in question.

"The painting," you replied. "It's called 'Madame Hien'."

He looked back up at the painting. Such exquisite artwork, surely anyone would be enamoured by it, but why were only the two of you there?

"You said the second one. What is that supposed to mean?"

You smiled and looked ahead. "Madame Hien has a reputation for being cursed." You crossed your elbows and looked back at him.

He piped, "aren't you scared?"

"What is there to be scared of? Its a painting, art is supposed to make the comfortable uncomfortable. The artist wanted to make it famous by spreading this rumour however unlike other 'haunted paintings', luck didn't side this one. It didn't become famous."

A deep laugh reverberated through his chest. "such a shame, a masterpiece like this in a secluded corner of a tiny museum owned by the government."

You chuckled at his words, "You talk like an anti-communist during the world wars."

He crossed his hands behind his back, "It's a shame really, this painting deserves so much more than this."

You sighed longingly, "sometimes I wish it had a better place to exist."

You look at her black dress, "wish someone would be kind enough to steal it from this godforsaken place."

He smirked and looked towards you, "for an ideal citizen , you talk really dark."

You smiled and answered, "perhaps, law is there to break anyways."

"So hypothetically if I ever plan on doing something illegal, can I count you in?"

"A hundred percent!" you laughed and fished for your business car, "feel free to call me if you ever want to do something illegal."

Sakusa was hesitant to feel another human's touch, but he agreed, "got you."

You looked at your watch in a hurry, "oh no I have a meeting in an hour!"

Quickly you started heading towards the gate, before stopping dead in your tracks, "wait I never asked your name."

He hesitated as he stared at the floor quietly. "Kiyoomi." He said without mentioning his family name.

You flashed him a smile, "Y/N L/N."

BREAKING NEWS: 'Minor painting in the city museum was stolen. The painting titled, 'Madame Hein' which was infamous for cursing those who saw it, has been stolen. The bizarre fact os that the CCTV footage of the entire day of the museum has been erased completely. The thief left the following message graffitied on the museum wall where the painting used to be.

"It's in a better place now, stranger. See you soon." -- K

⤷‧₊˚ HAIKYU!! (ハイキュー!!)

🥀 BYI/DNI ♡⌇ Request Rules 𓏸 🗝️ ₊﹒《 Join my Taglist •

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blueepink07 · 1 year ago

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This scene in Umbilical is very interesting to me...

The people who are next to Yuno have facial expressions.

In Milgram the characters with a well defined face are usually important for the prisoners or for the story.

Good examples are Haruka's mother, whose face appears in the second MV, while his victim still doesn't have a face. Fuuta's supposedly friends at the arcade, Rei -> important storywise, being the victim + a possible affection Muu had for her (implied), Shidou's family (the patients don't have faces), Mahiru's boyfriend, Hanako - Kazui's wife and victim, Kotoko - the man who she steps on his stomach (victim).

So why Yuno, in the only sequence where there are people shown, actually remembers their facial expressions?

Well, I think this scene is more a representation of the society.

If we look closely, we notice a young woman, a middle-age man, a student like Yuno, a younger boy, probably in primary school, an older man.

Basically, people from all ages.

Despite that Yuno tells Es that she doesn't want to change her ways, she had to become a people pleaser. After all, why would she need to put up different facades for every client or person she is with? Why so much effort, that she is even matching clothes to fit the vibe with who she is with? Of course, she made all this with a purpose in mind, to find warmth! In Milgram, she stopped putting up a facade, because this place doesn't represent a place of interest for her anymore.

Ultimately, despite having a purpose in mind, she became, along the way, a people pleaser.

As I stated in my older analysis, Yuno is not fond of society. Because of people who like to humiliate and talk behind their peers who act different or have other perceptions, Yuno has to hide her work and her true self. For a long time, I have been thinking why Yuno makes so much effort, if she, in reality, doesn't care that much about herself...

"Yuno: Haha, we both lie, don't we? The difference is the reason for lying. Kazui-san, you lie to protect yourself, because you're important to yourself. For me, no one is particularly important. That includes myself as well."

Well, in Japan, reputation is very important! If Yuno, will show her true name and self, she might be putting her family in danger, along the way. And she will never want that, because she cares a lot about her family!

"What do you think about your family?"

If Yuno, because of a mistake, would tell her true identity, her family reputation might be at stake. Something that she will never want to happen.

That's why Yuno cares about what these people think and deems them important. She needs to be sure that her facade of a simple high schooler is perfect! To not act out of ordinary, follow the flow, be the same as everyone, so the society will accept her!

Moreover, it's important to state that these people are coloured in a lighter shade of lavender, they are not colourful as other Milgram side characters who don't have faces.

Lavender can express a feeling of dullness, it's lethargic. It could represent Yuno's views about society, how she feels like everyone is the same: judging others for their own self-esteem and pride.

This colour is also a colder one, showing Yuno's loneliness and the lack of warmth she receives from other people. This actually reminds me of a certain dialogue!

"Yuno: That’s right. You know those people who just wanna convince themselves, so they intrude in other people’s affairs even though it’s not their place—I despise them. That’s what I was saying. They only do that to make themselves feel better, don’t they? Those people don’t actually end up doing anything.

Es: Yuno…

Yuno: No matter how many chilling memories I had to go through, those people never gave me any warmth. [sigh] Hehe, I ended up going off-topic there! Um, what did I wanna say again?"

~"chilling memories" ~

The lyrics that are accompaning these visuals are stating that Yuno is feeling some kind of discomfort (her pregnancy). She can't smile anymore, more genuinely.

"I feel a little weird I’m still not used to feeling this way

I can’t get you out of my head, it’s a secret, ok?

Why are you here? You annoy me a little

I can’t smile well anymore, it’s because of you"

Her smile here looks a bit forced. Her eyes don't share the same happiness as her mouth, showing that her expression is not genuine.

Despite Yuno appearing calm about her pregnancy, she was actually a bit afraid and needed help! However, all she could see was a sea of purple, people, all the same, who would have just shamed her for her decisions and wouldn't help...

Bonus

In Teardrop, the only human we see, other than Yuno, is one of her clients. Well, see, it's an exaggeration, since he is represented by his hand which has colour. Yuno remembers him as his hand who gave her warmth, at some point in time. A cute rabbit, a sweet drink and a nice memory!

#I have a lot of ideas for Yuno recently!!#she is so interesting I love her character!#milgram #milgram theory #thoughts #milgram yuno #yuno kashiki

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tessarionbestgirl · 7 months ago

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The topic of "Whitewashed" Green and Blacks my honest opinion.

This something that I have been thinking since watch the show, and it have been a topic discussed from both sides that I saw in the fandom.

But there is majority difference is how is done on TB and TG.

For exemple Alicent is a complete different character from the books. She is less a stereotype evil stepmom and more like a protagonist of Dostoevsky story. And we see in the show part of her book characterization showing up. Still I feel like her character is way more complex and add to the over all tragic aspect of the big narrative. And even her more controversial moment, like the infamous last scene with Viserys, it fits her character from what we see before, to have confirmation bias moment so she could do what she already deeply wished, because is part of Alicent characterization even though some aspects is contrived and I don't took away from people that found out that scene dumb. And that goes in a similar fashion to Aemond, it have base on things they already have stablish way before.

"The idea that we control dragons is an illusion " - Visery

" A dragon is not a slave". - Daenerys Targaryen

But when comes to TB whitewash it doesn't add to story and sometimes is even contradictory what they even stablish before. The most clearly exemple of this is Daemon and Rhaenyra.

The first episode of the show we have Daemon giving Rhaenyra neckless what is a nod to part of the book that heavy implied the grooming aspect of their relationship. And is very important aspect for understand his political motivations behind his actions, arguably some even could say he himself play a part on creating the family feud. It doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings for her. But in the show? Is very romantized and underplayed and is contradictory.

Daemon took her to the brothel, took her hat off exactly for everyone to see her white hair, he wanted to expose her. And then He left her there, because it was supposed the moment of " I spared you" that Daemon talks to Rhaenyra on the beach years later. Whatever it doesn't work, because at this point he already got what he wanted. Ruined her reputation so they could married. But we as the audience should see this redeeming quality.

Whatever this is small compared to Rhaenyra that in the process of making her more sympathetic and "Not like other girls" they make her incredible dumb and inconsistent.

House of the Dragon has a lot time jumps, and in between young and old transition for Young Alicent to Old Alicent is well done and make sense for her character. But Rhaenyra? Well is so hard to connect her young self and old self.

What we know about Young Rhaenyra?

She likes to ride on her dragon.

She is bold and reckless. She has "the blood of the dragon".

She have been part of the small council for a time.

She doesn't want kids.

And she even says to Alicent, she can't think of anything worse than be trap in castle giving birth to children.

And what is the first scene of old Rhaenyra? She is giving birth. There is some sad irony here if was made on porpoise. But a lot of what she was, isn't a thing anymore. A lot of her characteristics are wash out.

Alicent ask to bring her baby to her. And Rhaenyra, as political move decides to go there and take her own child. It shows how much power in a small time Alicent gain over.

What is not something she already had so much in the book. Even so, in the book is Alicent that suggested a marriage between Helaena and Jace. Because at this point in the history, Rhaenyra still holds the power.

But in the show. Even despite Rhaenyra being part of the small council longer and the legitimate heiress. She lost political power agaist Alicent.

And that has nothing to do with Rhaenyra being a woman, because Alicent as well is one, and even someone that has way less cards on the game. That is all because of the incredible bad choices she done.

First she decided to bear children outside a marital union. Generating bastards that according to the law, this is treason and only for that her and her children would be kill. And you could say she doesn't have that much choice since her husband won't sleep with her and she need to produce an heir for her lineage to continue and because of the prophecy.

Whatever how she goes on about this is what genuinely sink her down in a level of delusional. Because instead of going to summer Islands and have a baby with black man, and the only difference would be a black hair, and so what would be more on pair with the level of book suspicions about the legitimacy, she decides to try to have white children and wants to pass them off as the children of a biracial man. 😭

And she does that in front of everyone. And then she decides to leave in the worse possible moment. Doing so the greens took over.

And that is the funniest part about the Dance in the show. Because the greens, they don't create the situations that lead them to power. But actually they just explore the incompetence of the TB.

Whatever at same time we supposed to feel bad of Rhaenyra because she bled out and her humiliated herself when she started to lactation in the small council ( even though is logical because this medieval times, people don't care about this, even game of thrones we have a woman breastfeeding a boy Infront everyone).

All her acts from now on is done exclusively out desperation so the audience feel bad for her. We supposedly to see her a victim of bad propaganda and that is why her fans like her. I think this tweet make a good exemple of what I mean and how her fans see her:

Rhaenyra that once was bald and reckless act out of despair. She fake her husband death because she needs to marry Daemon because otherwise she feels powerless and lost. She begs for her father's support after being away from him for years. And then different from the books when she her sons are promised to Varyans since their childhood, she suggested a marriage out desperation.

Because that way her acts feel less part of responsibility, even though she was the one that got herself in this position.

Whatever there is a part of her character that continued since her young age. When her and Daemon stop and saw people making fun of her, she showed a lack of interest on what the small folk think of her. And in the same episode she seduce Cole to go to bad with her, even know this could cost his life. And when adult she kill a man without thinking. She doesn't care for the people she should reign over if that enters in the middle of her self interests.

She doesn't want war, and supposedly care about the prophecy, but put almost no effort to it when clashes with her own interests.

#anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #pro team green #team green #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #ser criston cole #aemond targaryen

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a-boca-do-inferno · 5 months ago

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when i look at you (al pacino x reader) [request]

summary: Al finds himself at a crossroads on set.

warnings: fluff, bit of angst

words: 1.0k

notes: hello guys! yes, im alive and well. just a clarification: i write for characters only, but i wrote this one thing specifically for a request that has been sitting in my inbox for a long time. at this moment requests are closed, but once they open again, it's for characters only!!! no real people. enjoy xx

NEW YORK CITY

1975

Amid the towering skyscrapers and labyrinthine streets, the movie set hummed with activity. Al was shooting his latest film and the director, Jack, a man known for his often stress-inducing standards and fiery temperament, stood at the helm. The set was abuzz with anticipation and nerves, but your figure was the only thing he could see. You had been a constant presence on set up until that point and such a vision, full of grace and quiet strength, never failed to catch his attention.

Al was well aware you grew up in the world of cinema, your father’s passion seeping into your very being, however Jack was fiercely protective, ensuring you stayed away from the darker sides of the industry. And it was quite clear you loved your father dearly, yet longed for a taste of the freedom you saw in the actors and crew around you. The lingering gaze you directed at Al himself could attest to that; he’s seen that look on a woman’s face before.

The longing for more.

Al first noticed you during a scene where he was meant to display raw emotion. He glanced over and saw you, half-hidden behind the camera, your attention locked onto him, watching intently. There’s just something in your globes—admiration, curiosity, who knows?—that struck him. For a moment, he almost broke character. It was on that day he decided he had enough.

Al approached you on the lunch break, trying to keep his tone casual. “Hey.”

You looked up, a hint of surprise in your expression. “Hey! Uh… I’ve seen all your movies, Mr. Pacino. You’re incredible.”

He chuckled. “Just Al is fine, and thank you.” He displayed a playful bow. “I’ve seen you around a lot. You work on the set?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I just like being here, watching everything come together. It’s… magic.”

Your conversation was cut short by Jack’s booming voice calling Al back to the set. As he walked away, he glanced back and saw you still looking at him, your glance filled with that something he couldn’t quite place again.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions became more frequent, always under the radar. You would steal moments between takes, sharing stories and laughter, your connection growing stronger. Al found himself drawn to your intelligence and warmth, a stark contrast to the often superficial nature of Hollywood. And you, in turn, were captivated by his intensity and passion. He treated you as an equal, valuing your opinions and thoughts, which wasn’t a dynamic you were used to.

It wasn’t long before these stolen moments began to feel like the most important parts of your day. Still, the shadow of Jack’s disapproval hung over you both. He would never approve of his daughter being involved with one of his actors, and especially not someone with Al’s reputation involving women.

One evening, after a long day of shooting, Al found you alone on the rooftop of the building where they were filming that day. “Hey”, he said softly, joining you at the edge. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You smiled, though it seemed tight. “Just thinking about how much I love this city. And how much I hate keeping secrets.”

Al sighed, reaching out to take your hand. “I wish things were different.”

You turned to face him, your eyes searching his. “What if they didn’t have to be? What if we… just told him?”

“He’d be furious”, Al replied matter-of-factly. “He might even fire me. I can’t risk that, not with everything riding on this film.”

You squeezed his palm. “I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends, Al. It’s tearing me apart.”

Al pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

Your embrace was interrupted by the sound of the rooftop door opening. You sprang apart just as Jack appeared, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you two doing up here?” He demanded.

“Just talking”, Al said quickly. “Needed some fresh air.”

Jack’s gaze shifted between you, doubt flickering in his features. “(y/n), it’s late. You should head home.”

You only nodded, giving Al a fleeting, pained look before going with your father inside. The days that followed were filled with tension. You continued to see Al in secret, your moments together a mix of stolen kisses and whispered confessions. The fear of being discovered loomed over you, but so did the hope that one day, you wouldn’t have to hide.

One afternoon, as the crew was setting up for a particularly challenging scene, Jack pulled Al aside. “We need to talk.” Al’s heart pounded as he followed Jack to a quieter area of the set. He turned to the younger man, his face unreadable. “I know something’s going on between you and my daughter”, he stated bluntly.

Al’s breath caught in his throat. “Jack…”

“I’m not a fool, Al. I see the way you look at her. And she’s been different lately. Happier.”

Al swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully. “I care about her, Jack. I really do.”

Jack’s eyes softened, albeit but a fraction. “She’s my world, Al. I’ve protected her from everything this industry can throw at her. If you hurt her, I don’t know what I...”

“I won’t”, Al stated quickly, in a single breath. “I love her.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Jack studied him for a long moment before sighing quietly. “I believe you” he sighed at last. “But if you’re serious about this, you need to do it right. No more sneaking around. Be honest with her. And with me.”

Al felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make her happy.”

Jack nodded briefly, then clapped a hand on Al’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s get back to work. And later, we’re all going to dinner together. That’s your second job interview.”

Al laughed in a mix of amusement and nervousness before leaving his side to try and find you. And there you were, the same vision he came to admire everyday on set; except now his eyes were the ones sparkling with something different. No more longing, though.

Only love.

#al pacino #al pacino x reader #al pacino imagine

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cainache · 1 year ago

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more butcher than man ♱ rockstar!eddie munson (reader goes by cady brocks, it’s her middle & last name!)

He'd known you weren't that bright the second he met you at that party in the hills six months ago. And no, he doesn't mean bright in the way you think. You’re smart, so damn smart. He means bright in just the way that you are. You're not a very happy girl.

Anyone who knew your insides could tell. If they’d taken the time to slice you open and personally talk with your organs, they’d know. You repulse at just about everything you do, and it makes him kind of sad. But he doesn't know how to tell you that—tell you that you’re the best and he kind of cares about you. No, he does care about you crazy, he just doesn’t know it yet. It’s so out of character for him, being serious with one girl.

He’s not going to tell you. He definitely won't. He has a reputation to uphold.

He's big bad Eddie fucking Munson.

He's been around the scene since he was twenty two—clawing his way out of Indiana with two guys he called his best friends, he's almost twenty seven now and has just about seen it all and more. At this point, it's like Corroded Coffin is never going to die.

He hopes they won't.

There's five of them now. Gareth, he's grown out his baby face, finally, has gotten ridiculously taller and more lean. Jeff, the tallest of them all, which hadn't been the case back home, his jaw as sharp as butcher knives. And Eddie, he’s everything and everywhere. He’s as quick as those butcher knives. Eddie likes to joke that all the drugs they did made them grow up all big and bad. They’re fucking rockstars.

The ones who didn't come from home, Tatum and Brooks. They're cool guys. Tatum's everyone's fuckin’ heartthrob, him and Eddie's names are always clashing in magazines at who's better with the ladies and occasionally guys. But it's Eddie, only because Tatum's got a chick who's been a soft secret for the last year and a half. They wonder, the media, what Tate's been doing recently. Why he’s been so silent with his night rendezvous that just randomly stopped. He doesn't give a minded fuck, he's keen on making sure the world doesn't dig its nails into Stella. She's a real sweet girl, Eddie knows, she's almost too sweet for Tate. Brooks is a different story, he's as loose as they come. He doesn't pick fights, he plays his music—get his job done, does the drugs, has the girls, and still manages to be at sound check early. Eddie doesn't understand how he does it. Really.

Crystal wishes he'd take some notes from Brooks.

Crystal's a dear. Corroded Coffin's all too dedicated manager, a woman who couldn't have kids and somehow ended up with five too old son's. Eddie loves her, she reminds him of his own before she passed.

But all of that’s besides the point. Right now is about you and how you’re a ticking time bomb he’s been trying to disengage for months now. He likes to think he’s made some progress.

Brooks thinks he’s stupid as fuck for getting caught up in a girl like you. But Eddie’s stop listening to Brooks around year two. So…

You play the guitar in a girl band called Bitten Lace. The names a bit much for you, but you didn’t have a say in it. It’s a four women show, one that makes you feel queasy and really silly. This was a stupid high school thing you guys did for some extra cash to get out of high school and into college; Boston wasn’t fun. But at one particular, silly, wedding—an all too rich man from New York was there and he liked what he saw.

You weren’t ready to pick up and leave, your little sister was six and your mother worked too much at the hospital—and your college essay was almost done. But Mave, a too powerful lead singer was persistent, full of guilt trips and gaslighting. Cady, c’mon! We’d be nothing without you! Don’t do this to us, we need you. With two pleading girls behind her, Trixie and Adina, what were you supposed to do.

You left home, with them.

You weren’t even sure if they really would’ve needed you to get by as a band, but your manger, Summer Lovewell, has said otherwise. You’re good at what you do, even if it’s not what you wanted to do.

It’s why Eddie notices you so quickly the night of that party. Everyone looked more than pleased to be there. Sex on walls and couches and unknown beds. Drugs on skin. Music in ears. It was his scene, his favorite fucking scene.

But staring at you on the balcony by yourself with a sparkling water down by your small kitten heels made his chest feel kind of funny.

Why were you alone?

Of course he knew who you were. You were younger than him and the media loves younger things. You, twenty two and new to fame. Cady fuckin’ Brocks! Beautiful and a little too soft by the media’s words and digs, they were awfully mean to you.

Bitten Lace had popped up like a firework and repeated sending colors to the sky. You guys were fuckin’ good. You were fuckin’ good.

He doesn’t remember what he said to you that night, too coked out. Sometimes, when he simply observes you—he wishes he had been sober that night. He wishes he remembered talking to you. He’s not even really sure how it escalated from there, but now, your like this all too big scarlet secret he’s trying his very hardest to keep away from flashing cameras and attention seeking tabloids.

He knows you, but he wants to know you better.

“Eds. Do you think I look silly in this?” Your voice is soft and your sitting on the hotel floor of Eddie’s room. He’s on tour, again, in Chicago—Bitten Lace happens to be here for press on a new world hit single.

He’s just gotten off of a show, shirtless, jeans a little too big in the waist, black socks, smudge makeup, and a bit of a smell.

He can’t find the wipes to get the glitter and black liner off his face. He’s still a mess. “Silly in what?” He asks with a mumble as he goes through another black book bag. Unlike his band mates, he doesn’t fuck with suitcases. He travels the world with three Jansport book bags that have kissed hell and back about six times. You tease him for them.

“In this..?” Like he’s supposed to know what you’re talking about, he doesn’t even know what you’re looking at—but he let’s you talk. He can’t find the damn wipes— “I don’t know, I didn’t like the shorts. They’re too tiny and the top was even smaller. Like I get it, we have an image, but the image only seems to look decent on Mave. I don’t have strong muscles in my stomach like that.” He hasn’t looked back at you but he gets what you’re talking about now.

He pauses with his bag and looks at you from over his shoulder. Your peering down at Blitz Magazine, Bitten Lace making the cover and a pretty thick section in the pages. The photoshoot for that had been agonizing. Mave’s judging looks to get your shit together and stop tweaking and Adina’s complaining was enough to have you crying in the shower after you’d gotten back to your small apartment. Trixie is much kinder and actually a friend. She’d been pretty silent throughout the whole thing, saying her thank you’s and giving her kind smiles when she needed to. You had tried to follow that method, but it hadn’t stuck.

You guys are big now, a year and a half in and Mave would kill someone if you guys started to slip in relevance. You’re tired and this isn’t what you signed up for in the slightest. But you don’t complain, you send your mother too much or your money, one might think, so she can work less and you call your little sister way too much. It’s really all you can do from here, where ever that is at the time. You don’t get a lot of free time to head back to Boston every now and then and see them. Eddie knows it bothers you. Unlike you, he hates going home and hasn’t been in four years. Hawkins does not need him. Plus, Wayne just likes to chat on the phone. Letters are cool too.

Eddie’s forgotten about the wipes now. His eyes on you as your fingers drag over the photos of the magazine. He hadn’t even been aware you were going to be in it, you hadn’t told him, of course you hadn’t. Brooks had, smacking the article into his chest after the show an hour ago—check out your chick, Munson. Goddamn. It had been moments before you arrived. He hadn’t even been able to look at it yet or give Brooks shit for his foxy words and tone.

He’s standing before you and looking down at the page, he spots you instantly. You are in tiny clothing. You’ve got white and tan cowboy boots on, small-small denim shorts that are tight in the waist and loose around your thighs. There’s a silver chain around your left thigh with a heart charm, it’s cute, Eddie thinks. Your shirt is indeed even tinier than the shorts, tight to your skin and flattering. It’s knitted and triangle shaped around your breast. It’s a nice tank top. You’ve got jewelry everywhere, much more than he’s ever seen you wear. Your hairs blown out and looks lighter—has your hair gotten lighter? He hasn’t seen you in almost two months, this shoot was almost a month ago.. His eyes drag to your hair now, pulled back in a very loose ponytail, you’ve got strands falling and framing your face. Your hair does look lighter. He wonders why you hadn’t brought it up? He kind of wants to kiss you.

“You look killer,” he says softly. He means it.

Your eyes flicker up to his, your chin now aimed up at him. You look so clean. Your lips are parted. “Seriously?”

Eddie smiles and sticks his hand out for you, you take it instantly as he yanks you up too aggressively. You slouch into his chest a little as he leans down to snatch up the magazine. He has a hand still on your arm and the other is holding up the pages. “I think the outfit is fuckin’ cool.” And he’s not just saying that too make you feel better, he really does means it. You look good and it’s all flattering, despite how you see yourself.

“Are you yanking my hair?” Eddie rolls his eyes at your weird phrases and drops the magazine on his made bed. “No. I am not yanking your hair. You look hot, killer.”

Your rolling your eyes now, shoving away from him as your cheeks go all red. He beams like a schoolboy at your sweet reaction.

You’re a slice of heaven.

You slouch into his bed, the sheets creasing under you. Your face is lined with his waist now. You lean forward and let your head meet his bare lower abdomen. It flexes for a second before a hand of his gently cups the crown of your head. “The wipes are by your first bag, by the way. You’ve missed them twice now.”

Eddie scoffs and laugh a little mean, he messes your hair. It is lighter. They’ve add more highlights to you. “You’re so mean.” He says as he pulls away from you to get the wipes, sticking out from under his first bag.

You smile and slide back onto his bed. “I’ll make it up to you and take off the glitter for you, rockstar.”

Eddie smiles, it’s faint and he’s glad you don’t see it. Not very metal of him. “Deal.”

#eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #corroded coffin #joseph quinn #soph’s place

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backjustforberena · 3 months ago

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I'm really annoyed by what happened in the last episode and I hope they don't mention Rhaenys anymore in future seasons because she deserves to rest in peace.

1) Corlys names the ship after his nickname as a testament to his greatness, when it's clearly stated (and explicitly written by GRRM) that Corlys took his nickname from the ship.

2) I really want to understand the logic behind thinking that naming the ship "The Queen Who Never Was" is a good way to honor Rhaenys' memory. It actually makes Corlys seem clueless, as if he doesn't realize that nickname was painful and humiliating for his wife. It's obvious that Rhaenys would never want to be remembered that way.

3) The director said that Rhaenys never felt like a priority to Corlys and that he named the ship this way to make amends? They've destroyed what little good was left in their relationship (which was already damaged by the unnecessary decision to have Corlys leave for six years, something that doesn't happen in the book).

4) I feel really sorry for Rhaenys and Corlys as a couple because in the book they were genuinely wonderful. The show has turned them into something toxic just to portray Corlys as a terrible husband (and a terrible father). In the book, one of his defining qualities is being a good and loving husband and father.

I'm so disappointed that I want to remove from my mind everything connected to the show and just go back to the book as hotd never happened

Hello, anon! I'm sorry to hear you've been frustrated by the final episode, and frustrated in regards to Rhaenys's death and the aftermath of it. I have a few annoyances, born of more general criticisms of this season. But I'll be honest, I really liked the ship thing, and I will watch Season 3 because I do enjoy the show, even if I think it could have been handled a lot better. I'll go point by point to address your comments thought:

POINT ONE.

There is a way that you can read Corlys's line as not being something against book canon. I have seen Ryan make the mistake in the interview, behind the scenes, when he mistakes Corlys as having named after his ship. But you can interpret "She was a testament to my own glory" in a far more generalised way.

This is a ship that has continued to be foundational to his mythos. He's had this ship for decades: through his voyages, through his wars, through his journeys. He's continually repaired it, never forsaken it, never exchanged it. She became a symbol of his legacy and his reputation, just as much as he may have originated his name from her. She was a testament to his own glory because she was a physical representation and piece of that glory.

POINT TWO.

I have to disagree. Corlys isn't clueless. It's very deliberately done. We don't know how Rhaenys would feel about it but the gesture is a very clear one. He's sacrificing something of his to honour her. The nickname itself is a tricky one. The loss of Rhaenys's claim is no doubt painful and I do think that there was a time in which this moniker was just as painful. But I also think that, like the question of "should she have been Queen" which was a bit of a thorn in Rhaenys's side throughout her journey in S1, there has been some peace to be found.

The nickname has been reclaimed. It becomes a testament to her and to her actions in the war. In the show, for every time Rhaenys is called "The Queen Who Never Was" as a dig, she's also been called it by the people who love her and venerate her as a choice. The most recent of which was Baela. That is her legacy. What that represents, now, has changed from a loss at the Great Council and a woman "not good enough", to the life of a loved woman who went down with honour and fierceness, with a cause and a foresight and a wish for a better world. A woman who fought two dragons without fear.

And that is a way that Rhaenys would like to be remembered. Corlys is cementing that. No one is going to see that ship and think it an insult. No one is going to see it as Rhaenys being humiliated.

Is this mainly done for Corlys's benefit? Of course it is. You'd expect nothing less because that's what people do in grief, when you don't have that person to guide you and you don't have them to love. You build statues or dedicate things or speak about them in terms that the person may not wish or may not agree with. That's normal. That's memory. But Corlys means absolutely no disrespect and I, as a viewer, didn't take it as any. He's doing it out of love. He's doing it to keep her with him.

POINT THREE

I don't agree that the decision to have Corlys leave for six years is unnecessary. I dislike calling anything unnecessary, especially if, when you take it out, you take out a fundamental piece of characterisation or part of an arc or overall plot. You can dislike the choice to take Corlys away. You can absolutely say that it hindered your opinion of viewing Corlys and Rhaenys in a good light. And you are correct in that it's not in the book. In the book, Corlys is ill for an undetermined amount of time.

But the show is the show and Corlys leaving for six years was vital in the way that they wanted events to play out. It's also foundational for Rhaenys and Corlys as separate characters. In S1, you need to remove Corlys so that Rhaenys can step up as a player in her own right and have something consequential to do (something she doesn't have in the book at all). And in S2, we need to have Corlys as a man looking to make amends and atone for his actions - some of which are from the very fact that he left for six years.

They still have good in the relationship. They have plenty of it, to me. Even this time apart for six years has the ability to show how much they love one another because it's the inability to look at the wife he loves that sends him off to war, it's the fear for and desire to be with Corlys that drives Rhaenys through those final episodes. It's the reunion that makes them stronger than they had been when apart so we see them as a unit when they declare for Rhaenyra.

And it's a fair comment of the director to make when speaking about Corlys's motivations. This is how it feels. This is what it looks like. This is how they read it. And Steve would probably admit this as well. I have no doubt that, when at sea, Rhaenys isn't a priority - the priority is the war or escaping his grief or securing his house. I don't think Rhaenys is ever gone from his mind or his motivations (she's very much tied into them) but going to sea eased his own pain, at the cost of her feelings, sometimes.

And now we have Corlys in a position where he realises that she should have been and he should have been better and he misses her fiercely. He could have been a better husband. And he does need to make amends, not only for the sake of her but the sake of his sons and his house and himself. It's a new leaf, I think. The naming of his ship is very symbolic. It's putting aside his own ideas of legacy and his own ambitions... for her.

POINT FOUR

They are not genuinely wonderful in the book. I'm sorry, it's just something I feel compelled to point out each and every time something gets compared to the books because we do not know. We flat-out do not know what Corlys was like as a husband and father, let alone that he was "good and loving". There's very little evidence to go on and I guarantee that everything can be twisted if you want to look at it in a certain way. You can absolutely interpret it in away that you prefer, but you have to face the reality that it can also be interpreted very differently by other people because... it can. The show gives us a solid, unquestionable portrayal of two people. The book, because of the way that it is, cannot and does not give us that.

There is nothing romantic in that book that has been taken away from the show version of Corlys and Rhaenys. At least, not that I recall. Was it a love match? Yes. Were they married a long time? Yes. But that's sort of it, in terms of what we get of that relationship and it's dynamic. Everything else can be interpreted. Literally everything. We do not know how he treated Rhaenys, if he listened to her, if the love continued for a lifetime or faded etc etc. We do not know how he treated his children whilst they were alive, either.

We do not have an insight into Corlys's feelings or actions in any way that can determine him as a doting father and devoted husband, specific to the time the show shows us. Just as we do not have anything in the way of Rhaenys's POV within the same parameters. We have easily interpreted supposition.

I will always prefer the show because they gave us people. They gave us a portrait or a marriage. They didn't give us a massive age-gap and an equally (if not more) scandalous affair that Rhaenys had no control or awareness of. They didn't make them one-dimensional, where Corlys was only ever ruthlessly ambitious without shame or Rhaenys only ever bitter and hateful at those that had wronged her. They made them human. Steve and Eve gave us a great gift in their portrayals. I won't ever be sad for that.

But if you are, and if you do dislike what's happened, then go back to the book. Watch no more. Engage no more. It's entirely within your control.

#hotd spoilers #rhaenys targaryen #corlys velaryon #rhaenys x corlys #house of the dragon spoilers

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