#iconic uncle&nephew duo

[wickedweasly]

I just read the prisoners throne ch.1 and you’re telling me that Cardan and Oak have beef?

Since when did this happen cuz last time we saw them they were happily eating dumplings together and now Oak thinks Cardan is actively plotting to kill him?!?! Holly what are you hiding from us?!?!

I need answers.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Quicksilver + Speed, illust. Dauterman

fan edit/recolor, plz reblog if you use/save

[feydrautha]

Finally finished Gideon the Ninth and man, i truly am the most predictable bitch because the Third and the Eighth Houses are just soooo 🥺 to me

[bree-paints]

2nd most iconic uncle-nephew duo in fiction (they fucking hate eachother)

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Seven

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I just wanted to start by saying thank you, and I'm sorry. Life has been so hectic these past few weeks. I met a guy, and we dated. Then we broke up, celebrated my birthday, got another job added to my current one, and got invited to parties while trying to care for myself, which is already a struggle. It may take some time, but this story will be finished! Everything is planned out; I have to write it. I promise!

Chapter Warnings: Misogyny, sexism, blood supremacy, the iconic dinner scene.

After the much-awaited arrival of your family came, it quickly went. The Keep was a buzz with a tense thickness of worry for what would come. With the petition of Vaemond Velaryon for the Driftwood throne and the other faction of Targaryen's appearing, the Lords and Ladies of the Court were anxious. The last time the entirety of the House of The Dragon was together, a Prince was maimed, and a Princess was cut, creating an irreparable divide.

You thought nothing of it. The court was always tense in your presence. What was the added chance of another physical confrontation?

Rhaenyra had sent you to fetch your brothers, saying she needed a moment to gather her bearings after being away for so long. You bid her farewell as you strolled along the stone halls, already having a place in mind for where the troublesome duo could be.

As you suspected, the boys were in the training yard, Jace enthusiastically wielding a short sword and showcasing a prideful stance to Luke. Rolling your eyes, you descended the stone steps, focusing on not tripping as your brothers approached a crowd of cheering onlookers. You had your suspicions of who would be within the circle, cautiously hurrying your slippered feet.

Just as you were moments away from pulling Luke, a smooth timber carried throughout the yard.

"Nephews, have you come to train?" the One-Eyed Prince asked. You knew the query was rhetorical, swiftly pushing yourself between your brothers and taking their hands.

You challenged Aemond with the firm line of your mouth, an arched brow within your hard stare. Before either of you could think to do something foolish, the thundering creak of the courtyard doors opened, revealing Lord Vaemond and his entourage of blue-grey seahorse banners.

Instinctively, you put Lucerys behind you, the sword Daemon gifted you hidden beneath your cloak of crimson and black. Both your brothers clutched at your hand as if it were the only thing keeping them from withering under their Great Uncle's stare, and perhaps it was. You heard a chuckle from behind, your head quickly snapping at Aemond to fix him with a stern look.

"Come, brothers," you announced, tugging their larger fists in yours, "let us find Mother before we must attend this farce."

Jace and Luke followed solemnly behind. The elder hunched over with a wrinkled brow, the younger desperately clinging onto you like a babe to its rattle.

***

The Great Hall was bustling with the sounds of anxious voices. All the court members were gathered in a display of what you could only think to be an attempt at public embarrassment by the Greens. Petitions such as these only required some of the Lords and Ladies to be in attendance, yet here they were, making a chilled and open space incredibly stuffy and small.

The Iron Throne stood imposing with its presence, the swords of Aegon the Conquerer's enemies smelted into a seat that could cut those who came too close to its rug of pointed metal.

Your Father was conversing with Rhaenyra, his strong fists clasped over his stomach, leaning into your Mother's ear. Lucerys was at her side, his slender fingers picking at each other as he cowered beneath his cloak. Rhaena and Jace were beside you, and you glanced at your half-sister, her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locks piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, and you stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his more petite body.

He tried not to show how your gentle actions comforted him, subtly leaning into your side as the announcement for the petition commenced.

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds," Otto Hightower spoke, his voice booming across the Great Hall, "we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As the Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." You couldn't help but roll your eyes, removing your arm from your brother and replacing it with your palm. "The Crown will now hear the petitions."

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, the sense of someone watching your movements too closely to be fleeting. Aegon's violet eyes were trained on you and your connection with your brother; his lips curved into a frown. You brought Luke tighter into your side, fighting the urge to get him into your chest as a mother would, only to spite Aegon. The Prince could no longer stand the infuriating sight of you holding someone so close and trained his darkened eyes on the floor.

"Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon," the Hand spoke, announcing the challenger to the room.

The man who caused this stepped forward, dressed in a rich velvet doublet of deep navy, nearly black, and sparing a glance to the wife of Lord Corlys, the Queen Who Never Was, Princess Rhaenys.

"My Queen," he greeted with a nod, "my Lord Hand."

Luke bristled beneath your touch at his Great Uncle's voice, retreating further into his cloak.

"The history of our noble houses extends past the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Valaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our House became the last of their kind." You glanced at your Mother while Vaemond droned eloquently, her gaze downcast with a disapproving smirk. "Our forebears came to this land, knowing they were to fail; it would be the end of their bloodlines and name."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Princess Rhaenys, her stare boring holes into the back of her good brother's skull. Your worries that the Queen Who Never Was would not side with your Lucerys and his claim vanished as you noted the anger on her face, the fury at Vaemond's claim that he had the right to be Lord of the Tides and not her, as if her rule during Corlys' absence meant that the Driftwood Throne was not in safe hands.

"I have spent my entire life on defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood," the second son petitioned.

Otto stared at the man with a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his genuine emotions. Arrogance and pride shine through. "It's a true, unimpeachable blood of the House of Velaryon that runs through my veins."

"As it does in my son's, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon," your Mother interrupted, causing everyone in the room to direct their attention to her.

You sucked in a nervous breath, your gaze flickering to Rhaenyra as you gnawed on your lip. She knew better than to interrupt during a petition to the King. Perhaps since it wasn't her Father, she felt the ability to speak out of turn was appropriate. Even the daughter of the King shouldn't be allowed such liberties.

"If you cared so much about your House's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition-"

"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra," the Queen interrupted, causing your simmering anger to spike into a rolling boil. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

You understood Queen Alicent's opinion but couldn't quell the rise of frustrated tears at her words. It was not her place to order your Mother. She was a wife to the King; she held no real power, and remembering that would do her well.

Ser Vaemond turned to stare smugly at Rhaenyra, continuing with his rant of blood purity and superiority. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it."

A tugging at your dress sleeve brought your attention to Luke, swiftly nodding that you were all right as he stroked the back of your white knuckles. Your hand long forgetting its comforting touch as it blanched from ire.

"This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours," Vaemond finished, staring hard at your brother as he cringed.

You did not let the Lord frighten him for long, standing in front of Luke like the moat of iron spikes surrounding Maegor's Holdfast. You came face to face with Ser Vaemond for the first time in your life, his facial hair a mix of salt and pepper from the decades of life he held above you. You were still determining if you could best him in a battle of swords. Yes, you were skilled, but you were not a fool.

The Lord turned from you, his prideful grin duller as he addressed the Queen and Hand. "This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor," Vaemond finally concluded, taking a few steps back, "the Lord of Driftmark-the Lord of The Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto announced, the second son giving one last sneer toward your family.

With the retreating of the Lord, you were given the perfect view of the Green children, the eldest still very much disinterested in what was happening around him, shifting on his feet as if he was itching to leave the room, which you supposed was true. The second child was attempting to dissociate from the world around her, uncomfortable with the animosity between the two houses, her golden dress the opposite of her appearance. The third and final member seemed to match his Mother and Grandsire, an air of superiority radiating from his toned body.

"Princess Rhaenyra," the Hand called, "you may now speak for your son, Prince Lucerys Velaryon."

Your Mother approached before the steps of the Iron Throne, her body language openly depicting her ire at the whole matter. Her complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation caused you to crack a smile, looking at Luke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"If I am forced to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago in this very room-"

Rhaenyra's words were cut short by the creaking of hinges, the grand doors to the Great Hall opening to reveal the rhythmic tapping of a cane.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of The Andals, the Roynar, The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Gasps were heard collectively around the large room, your Mother turning to see her Father in public for the first time in years. Lord Vaemond watched the King of The Seven Kingdoms as he hobbled across the great expanse of the throne room, a golden mask covering the right side of his face.

You recalled that nearly a year ago, there was only a tiny sore on his cheek, such a minuscule gash that festered and grew to eat away at his flesh until you could see the rotting teeth within his skull. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to the steady tapping of your Grandsire's cane, your heart unable to watch the hunched figure. You knew it was only time until Viserys became the Lepers you saw within the slums of Flea Bottom as a girl, but your memories did not serve the disease any justice. It was worse than you could have imagined.

The Hand seemed more shocked than any. His stoic face of pride morphed into one of stunned surprise as your Grandsire made his way to the bottom steps of the Iron Throne.

"I will sit the throne today," the King rasped, his entire weight resting on the dragon head of his walking stick.

"Your Grace," Otto acknowledged reluctantly, taking his place next to his daughter and her children.

A kingsguard quickly rushed to the side of his ruler, briefly assisting before Viserys weakly shoved him away. You couldn't watch this, watch someone once so full of joy and love for his kin struggle to walk the stairs of his ancestors.

The sound of fallen metal echoed in the room, bringing your attention upward. Your Grandsire's Crown had fallen onto the stairs before the throne as a quiet grunt of discontent puffed past his chapped lips. Daemon was behind his brother before anyone was the wiser, assisting the last remnants of his late parents' love to his ruling seat and placing the golden Crown of Jaehaerys on the remaining tatters of silver hair.

Luke tugged your hand at your side, making you lift your gaze from the floor to him. "Sister, you're crying," he whispered just below the shell of your ear. You nodded silently, whipping away the stray water that collected on your warm cheeks.

"I must admit my confusion," your Grandsire spoke, his frail voice reverberating through the high walls of the hall. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." You did not need to look at Vaemond to see his outrage. You could sense it from where you stood twenty paces away, your tears slowly drying as you gazed at the disappointed Queen. "The only one present who might offer keener insights into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

Everyone turned to the woman as she processed her cousin's words. "Indeed, Your Grace," she nodded, taking a moment to look at her brother-in-law.

Eyes followed the Queen Who Never Was as she spoke, her voice so smooth and elegant you felt envy for it at the back of your mind. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed."

The collection of emotions within the room was a whirlpool. Anger, betrayal, shock, and relief whirled around the Great Hall like the beating of a dragon's wings. Ser Vaemond was fuming, indignant at his good sister's words. He was a true Velaryon, not his bastard nephew born of a harlot disguised as a Princess. Rhaenyra Targaryen dishonored his family and the realm with her illegitimate offspring, parading them as pure. He would not stand for this. Vaemond's blood was thick, and it ran true like the sea.

"As a matter of fact the Princess Rhaenyra has informed me of her desire to marry her son's Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Princess Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartedly agree."

The rate at which your head snapped to Luke was supernatural, nearly causing you to lose your balance. His expression mirrored yours, shocked with mouths parted like a fish, then turning to look at your Mother. A graceful smile painted her pink lips, swiftly lowering her gaze with a protective hand over her round stomach.

No one besides your Mother shared the proud sentiment, the Queen's countenance souring far more than you thought possible, the Hand still aghast at the sudden turn of events.

"This will be good," you leaned into your brother's ear, his gaze unsure.

Aegon had suddenly perked up at the revelation, uncharacteristically grinning as he watched the drama unfold. You couldn't pinpoint why he had an abrupt interest in the conversation. Perhaps he enjoyed the misfortune of others, even if it was his kin.

"Well," the King spoke, his breathing now calmed, "the matter is settled. Again."

You leaned your head atop Luke's, wordlessly expressing that everything would be well, that there was nothing to worry about anymore. He reciprocated the notion with a squeeze of your hand.

"I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, to the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of The Tides."

The proverbial sigh of relief let out by your family was deep, the heavy-bearing weight of the future being lifted off your shoulders and placed onto the Greens. Princess Rhaenys sauntered to her position beside her eldest granddaughter, an almost annoyed yet prideful gate to her walk.

A scoff cut through the moment of joy, your head directed to the sound. "You break law, centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir," Vaemond spoke, venom laced within every syllable. "But you dare tell me who deserves inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it."

Your brown and violet orbs flickered from the man to the King, your posture changing from the reserved and proper Princess to a warrior, ready to protect.

"Allow it?" Viserys echoed, testing the word on his dry tongue. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

The fallen silence was too thick to cut even by the sharp blade of Darksister, everyone waiting with contained breaths to see what would follow.

"That is no true Velaryon!" the second son shouted. Your hand went to the sword concealed within your large cloak, the other going over Luke as you stepped before him. "And certainly no nephew of mine."

"Take him to his chambers," Rhaenyra ordered you before swiftly turning her attention to Vaemond. "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true born grandson," your Grandsire declared. "And you no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You," Vaemond stated, taking menacing steps forward, "may run your House as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides."

He turned to you and your brother, feet firmly planted with the grip on your longsword. Your gaze stared fire at his, jaw clenched as he spat his vitriol. "And Gods be damned I will not see it ended on account of this..."

You tilted your head to the side, eyes wide as you dared him to utter the words that desperately wanted to leap from his tongue.

"Say it," a voice whispered behind you, your Father's soft and menacing timbre.

Onlookers watched with bated breath as Vaemond thought over his words, his gaze flickering from your Father to you, your Mother, and then finally, Luke. A sneer slowly pulled his lips, righting his posture as he bellowed.

"Her children are bastards!"

You inhaled, a near-inaudible growl emitting from your throat as you took a charged step forward only to be yanked back by your kid brother. Soft murmurs sounded, the Greens all sharing the same look of begrudging disappointment. Jace seemed just as furious as you, his lips curling into a snarl.

"And they," he glared at you, then to your Mother, his jaw tensing, "are whores."

Your gaze immediately flicked to Aegon, your body moving on its own accord as he stared at Vaemond. His eyes were no longer their sullen purple but a near black, shining like dragonglass shards, fists blanched. Did people know of you and the Prince's dalliances? Had you not been as careful as you thought? Your mind raced with the possibility of your secrets being understood, with the chance that Helaena that your family knew of your sins.

You were unable to hear the sound of raised voices expressing facts of treason, threats of violence, and the unsheathing of a sword until you felt blood splatter on your cheekbone, seeing the sliced head of Vaemond Velaryon laying a few paces from your feet.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon declared, looking at the limp corpse below.

"Disarm him!" The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard yelled, his fellow members drawing their weapons.

"No need," your Father protested, wiping the blood of his kin from his blade and exiting the room.

Your eyes could not leave the bleeding form of Vaemond Velaryon, the top half of his dreaded white hair discarded as the crimson liquid seeped into the cracks of the stone floor. Viserys groaned above, collapsing onto the Iron Throne like a sack of bones, Alicent and your Mother running to his aide.

You felt nothing of the inferno of emotions from before, your mind replaying the images of bloodied hands stabbing, stabbing, stabbing and slicing, cutting, tearing at muscle and tendons until you saw nothing but red.

"Little one?"

The name startled you into reality, your hands no longer dripping the essence of life, Vaemond's body carried away.

Aegon stood before you, his face etched with worry. You merely stared at him, your mind blank and body numb. What could you say to him after everything that had happened? After the night he cared for you so tenderly, it rivaled that of a mother's touch, proving that he would keep your secrets without being asked.

You parted your lips to speak, suddenly finding your throat too dry as you swallowed. Aegon extended a hand to yours, fingers brushing each other as fire ignited in your veins, sending bolts of heat through your limbs.

Oh, how you missed his touch.

"I-" you started, the Prince's amethyst orbs searching your own.

"Sister. Mother wants us in our chambers to prepare for supper," Lucerys called, his tone clipped.

You yanked your limb away from Aegon as if it burned, nodding curtly to Luke as he replaced it with his own. You followed your brother out of the Great Hall, refusing to look back as the Prince's stare bore holes into your head.

***

The sun had set upon King's Landing, but none slept. The flagstone streets bustled with life, men with several drinks searching for a championship with anyone willing for some coin.

You, too, nursed a goblet of firewater, your cloak long forgotten as the drink slid down your throat. The intricate strings of bronze fabric woven into your gown glimmered with every movement of your body in the dim candlelight.

The atmosphere of the dining hall was tense on both sides, idle chatter amongst family filling the space as servants prepared for the first meal. All waited patiently for the King to enter, joyful albeit subdued smiles on their faces. You observed your brothers' interactions with their betrothed, each dutiful and respectful, speaking with them in hushes about the future and what it might be.

You and Aemond were the only occupants without a respective partner, Alicent with her Father, Rhaenyra and Daemon with each other, Aegon and Helaena worlds apart but still connected by the rope of marriage. It made your skin crawl to have more in common with your estranged one-eyed cousin than your own family, taking another hearty swig of your Arbor Gold as the Prince locked gazes with you.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, leaning unceremoniously into the back of your high chair, staring at the dozens of foods before you, begging to be eaten. You were growing impatient with waiting for your Grandsire and decided to steal a purple grape from the platter before you, your Mother scolding you with a tsk. 

Aegon was six cups into his wine before the King arrived, his face sullen as he observed his sister-wife delicately stroke something within her hand.

Viserys was escorted into the hall on his makeshift throne, all rising in respect for his title, his crown long forgotten as he was placed between the Queen and your Mother. Sores you hadn't seen before in the throne room were more apparent, causing your eyes to sting with the threat of tears and stomach churning. He leaned heavily onto his cane despite already sitting, his extravagant Targaryen robes weighing on an already frail body.

You were not to cry. Not here. Not in front of the very people who already held little respect for your existence.

"It both gladdens my heart," the King spoke, his voice straining without much effort, "and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world." Viserys looked toward his left, your Mother, Father, and brothers in his line of sight. Your hand gripped the stem of your glass, ignoring the heated glares from across the table. "We've grown so distant from each other in years past."

You forced yourself to hide the scoff at his words, taking another long drink. And why would that be? Perhaps it was because of the Queen's unwavering grudge against your Mother that festered into a hatred of her life and choices. Or the Lord Hand, previously removed from his position for his corruption, created an environment hostile to those who interfered with his plans. The permanent injury of a young boy only solidified the foundation of hatred.

Viserys paused his speech, wheezing and supporting his weight on the table as a hand came to remove his mask. The sight was nothing you could have imagined. The space where his bright violet eye should be was sunken in a hole of partially healed and rotting flesh in its wake. The wound in his cheek had eaten away at the skin and muscle, revealing his decaying grey teeth.

Aegon's previously intense stare faded, looking at anything except the live corpse before him. The urge to comfort the Prince as you would Luke manifested into a twitch of your fingers, crossing your legs to distract yourself.

"My own face is no longer a handsome one, if it ever was." Phlegm was stuck within your Grandsire's throat, creating an almost repulsive noise. "Tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your Father..."

Aegon met the eyes of a man who was his Father only in name, his glare dark, filled with an anger you had never seen before. You bit your lip, hard to focus on anything other than your heart aching to run and kiss the malice from his face. Why were you thinking this way? Aegon murdered your kin, murdered an innocent maid who was simply doing good.

He deserved this.

He deserved this.

But why did it hurt?

"...who may not walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold your feelings in your hearts. The Crown cannot stand strong as long as the House of The Dragon remains divided."

The Sullen Prince's eyes turned to you, your gazes locking with thousands of unsaid emotions, unsaid truths.

"Set aside your grievances!" Viserys declared passionately, startling those at the table and causing you to break your revere momentarily. "If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

Silence fell across the table as the King stumbled into his seat, the metal of his mask and cutlery clanging as Alicent dutifully came to his aid. Your Mother stood abruptly, not giving the room to process the King's words as her chair scraped against the stone floor, a cup in her hand as all eyes turned to her.

"I wish to raise my cup to, Her Grace the Queen," she started, her eyes downcast. You watched your Mother skeptically, brown orbs flickering from her to Alicent. "I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood more loyaly by his side than his good wife."

The Queen stared at Rhaenyra, so full of emotions. Years of harbored pain and resentment from events you did not know, bleeding from her chest and onto her finely tailored green dress.

"She has tended to him with unwavering devotion, love, and honor; for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology," Rhaenyra concluded, returning to her seat.

You felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment between lost lovers, the happy moments of their history flashing before each of their minds' eyes. Turning to Aegon, you realize that he did not remove his stare from you, his violet eyes a glassy pool of amethyst. You were sure you mirrored him, your chin slightly quivering as you focused on the empty plate before you.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We're both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common then we allow," Alicent spoke, her voice barely stuttering. "I raise my cup to you and to your House. You'll make a fine Queen."

Otto's disapproving stare did not go unnoticed by you, and Aemond reflected on his expression. Each person raised their goblets individually, taking sips in honor of their current and future Queen.

Aegon threw his drink back twice, going for a third time, but stopped once he caught sight of you. Droplets of Arbor Gold slipped past your lips, lurching forward to catch the liquid before it ran down to the aperture of your chest. The Prince swallowed audibly, his throat clicking as his trousers grew tight.

It had been so long since he felt his love's warm embrace, the softness of your skin on his, and the melodic laughter at one of his raunchy jests. Aegon longed to have anything of you, whether it be your smile or the icy sting of your glare. You ruined him. No one could compare to you, the finest ambrosia he ever tasted, forever aching for another sip. The Prince truly and deeply loved you and needed you to know.

Supper commenced, and you wasted no time feasting, eating the savory vegetables cooked in butter and smothered in rich spices. Smoked cheeses, both hard and soft, found their way to your plate, nearly moaning at their hearty combination with slices of meat.

The frigid environment from before left and was replaced with the warmth of laughter and music. Even the old King himself wore a smile on his cracked grey lips.

You ignored the piercing stare burning on the side of your face, focusing your attention on your Father and adoptive Mother. Daemon whispered something into your Mother's ear, gently grasping her lithe fingers as she giggled and a blush bloomed.

The sight caused an ache to rise in your chest. The hollowness of your heart knocked on your ribs, longing to find a love like your parents before you, but it could not be. Men like your Father were rare in more ways than one. He was more devoted and loyal to Rhaenyra than her sworn shields, ready to defend her honor even at the cost of lives. It was a love you could only dream of. You were a bastard, nothing more.

Ignoring the fist cinching around your lungs, you downed your half-empty goblet of Arbor Gold, summoning a servant to refill it. You did not want to feel like this anymore. The ache. The constant throbbing in your head and heart. It was sometimes too much to bear, seeking solace in a few things. Your days were spent with the swirling storm of thoughts and memories. They plagued your mind like the diseases of your childhood, culturing into an amalgamation of sadness, rage, guilt, and isolation.

It was small at first, smiling and shaking your head when Helaena and your maids questioned what was wrong. Gradually, anger backed every motion you made, and guilt for acting in such a way, for the actions of the past. Your lust for revenge soon consumed you, not long after. Your only focus in the loneliness was to wrong those who wronged you, and now that it was done, all that was left was... nothing. Simply nothing.

"Sister," a kind voice whispered beside you, a gentle hand coming to land on your shoulder. You placed your own over your younger brother's, flashing him a brief smile. "Would you like to dance?"

You accepted Lucerys' invitation, the sudden rising movement causing you to lose balance slightly, resting your weight on him. You both giggled as he glanced down at your awkwardly positioned body, helping you upright as any gentleman would. The musicians started a lively tune, Luke beginning to lead you in dance as several pairs of eyes turned to you.

Daemon and Rhaenyra watched their children with a smile, sharing looks as your Mother leaned against him. Rhaena observed with a wistful look, her gaze to the future rather than the present. It looked bright-- distant time with the sound of running feet and laughter, living in the seat of her ancestors.

You turned to peak a look at your half-sister, ready to congratulate her on securing a good husband as you saw Aegon. His face contrasted with the others-- blue-black circles sunk underneath his violet eyes, his pale skin devoid of the flush of life. You brushed his stare off you and followed your kid brother's lead, catching the glimmer of a look that made your stomach churn.

The murmur of Viserys' voice registered in the back of your mind, too focused on your slightly unbalanced movements to comprehend them. You heard a deep sigh, the soft screech of a chair, and a flash of green. Aegon was on the other side of Jaeceryes, glass in his hand as he whispered something into his ear. The loud cutlery clanking sliced through the air, and you pulled yourself from Luke, watching the eldest Prince saunter back to his seat, and two others stood.

"Jace," Baela called noiseless, her mahogany eyes flickering between her betrothed and the One-Eyed Prince.

Beats of silence echoed in the dining hall as everyone stared at Jace, waiting with curious yet cautious expressions.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond," your brother spoke, raising his drink. "We have not seen each other in years, and I have fond memories of our shared youth." Jace turned, exchanging a sidelong glance with Luke. "And as men, I hope that we may yet be friends as well as allies. To your family's good health, dear uncles."

Each table member raised their cup, Aemond, albeit reluctantly, and took a drink. You took that as your cue to return to your seat, the next course soon to start. Princess Helaena stood moments after you sat, hiding a laugh at yet another toast.

"I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. 'Tisn't so bad," Helaena's melodic voice said. "He mostly just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk."

Daemon's chuckle pierced through the unease, the two full goblets of wine gone to your head as you stifled one of your own, hiding it behind your digits. Aegon refused to meet anyone's gaze, finding his half-eaten plate much more interesting than the people before him.

The next King rose from his seat with a groan from the wood and excused himself from his betrothed, walking to the moonlit Princess, extending a hand. Aegon stared at the pair as they went to the open space you and your brother once were, his face one of surprise. You brought your cup to your lips, swallowing a smirk.

It serves him right. His treatment of Helaena, or lack thereof, was appalling. Though he may not be in a marriage of love, she was still his sister and the dreamy-eyed Princess deserved more.

Adding a few more spoonfuls of boiled potatoes, you observed the returning smiles of your kin, a warm fuzzy feeling replacing the hollowness.

It was over a year since you had been with them like this, laughing and merry as you feasted until your stomach was full. If you closed your eyes, you could picture yourself on Dragonstone, your darling Cannibal curled inside the caves of the Dragonmont, the smell of Brimstone and salt in the air.

A glint of gold caught your eye, breaking you from your fantasy. Viserys' brilliant mask shined in the candlelight as his head lulled to the side, fighting off a bout of pain. Rising from your seat, you went over to him before Alicent or Rhaenyra could react, kneeling on the side of his Lady Wife.

"Grandsire," you gently spoke, bringing his attention to you. "Would you like a drink?" He nodded as you grabbed his goblet, head tilting to the nonmarred side.

You could feel Alicent's gaze from behind, disregarding it as you continued to help him. Perhaps it was guilt that made you feed your dying uncle and Grandsire. Or perhaps it was instinctual to care for someone moments away from meeting the Stranger. It did not matter. Not now, at least. All that did was ensure Viserys' time would be filled with the love and kindness he desired, no matter how short it may be.

"Thank you, Granddaughter," the King rasped, smoothing a bony hand over your braided hair. "You always bring me such... peace when you are around. Please, before I rest tonight, read to me... The stories of Old Valyria."

You nodded hastily, a downturned smile on your lips as you grabbed his fist, your thumb rubbing the crepey flesh. He had never asked this of you before, and though you agreed without a thought, it set an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Signaling the guards, they swiftly went to his side, lifting the chair as you kissed his scalp. The skin was so cold it nearly froze your lips as the men carried your Grandsire out of the dining hall.

The merriment soon returned, melody and song embracing all who sought to take it. Jace and Helaena quickly returned to dance as if their King had not been escorted from the room with a wail of pain. Lucerys conversed with Rhaena and Baela, speaking of things only betrothed couples could as your Mother and Father continued their private conversation.

Once again, you were out of place and next to your family. It had always felt that way. When you were whisked away from all you knew on the back of Caraxes, it felt like you did not belong—constantly teetering on the edge of being legitimate but not being treated as such. You didn't have the powerful ancestry of your half-sisters nor a claim to any lands or titles like your brothers. Yes, you were of noble descent, but only partially. Bastards should not have the privileges that you do.

Sometimes, you convinced yourself it would be better if you had not been born. Your true Mother would still be alive, and Lyra and Sara would, too. Your Father would not have to live with the shame of having a child born of sin, and Aegon would not have to know the pain of never having the one he desires the most.

As if the Prince could read your thoughts, he looked at you, his annoyed expression disappearing into a concerned crease in his brow. You flew away from his inquiring one, focusing on your Mother and Father's joined hands. When you were sure he was no longer staring, you found yours returning, Aegon's eyes now on his younger brother as they spoke without words.

Soon, the main course arrived. A succulent pig glazed in a coppery crisp of honey, cloves, and cinnamon lying on a large platter with a crimson apple in its mouth. Your own began to water as you eyed its tan skin, hearing a snicker to the left of the long oak table.

Luke barely subdued his delight as the pig was placed in the middle, his dark brown gaze connected with the One-Eyed Prince. You were unsure of the reason for his laughter, seeing as Prince Aemond did not share the same sentiment, slamming his fist down onto the table with an attention-grabbing thud.

"Final tribute," he announced, his pink lips in a firm line. "To the health of my nephews Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise," Aemond paused, sparing no one but the boys a glance, his violet eyes wide with something feral, "and strong."

The soft plead of the Queen and a disapproving look from your Mother were cast aside as the Prince continued, Aegon raising his drink far too enthusiastically as you released an irking sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys."

You followed as Aemond said and downed your drink, not for his insulting excuse of a toast but to tolerate the inevitable uproar he created.

"I dare you to say that again," Jacaerys shouted, his chin high.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment," Aemond countered, rising from his seat. You mirrored his actions, standing from your own far too quickly as you fought for balance, the wine gone to your head. "Do you not think yourself strong?"

Before anyone could blink, Jace swung, hitting the One-Eyed Prince on his good side. Luke shot up, ready to defend his brother, but was thrown forward as his face was smashed into his plate, rattling the silverware. Your legs carried you surely despite your sway as you grabbed Aegon by his choppy silver hair, yanking an arm behind his back.

"First, you take my only kin from me and now you feel you are entitled to their misfortune." The Sullen Prince whimpered as you brought his wrist higher, shoving it between his shoulder blades. "Hurt my family again, and you will wake up with your cock flayed and no hands to drown your sorrows."

"Daughter."

You need not look to know who it was and what he was asking, releasing Aegon as he struggled like a caught fish.

A dull sound captured your attention, and Jace was on the ground with a smirking Aemond standing above him. Guards made their way over to you and your brothers before you could even think to retaliate, restraining you all with iron-like grips as your Mother and Father surrounded you.

"How could you say such a thing before these people?" Alicent's heated words spat into Aemond's face, her fist gripping his forearm.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond cooly spoke, removing himself from her touch. "Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

You had never wanted to kill the One-Eyed bastard more than you have at this moment, shoving free from the guards. How could he think he could get away with saying such a thing? Had the Prince not seen a man beheaded hours prior for spouting those words? Just because he was the son of a King, he felt laws and declarations did not affect him. No.

Hiking your skirt, you reached for the dagger hidden at your ankle, charging forward without the repercussions of attempted kinslaying.

"Wait! Wait!" Daemon shouted sharply over the sound of stomping feet, holding you back with a mere finger. "Not now," he whispered so only you could hear, glancing at your Mother behind you. You slowly retreated, obeying your Father's command as any good daughter should, Jace gripping your shoulder roughly.

"Go to your quarters," Rhaenyra commanded, repeating her words as you hesitated. "All of you. Now."

Aemond's smirk left his thin lips as quickly as it came, face to face with your sighing wall of a Father as you exited in acquiescence.

You did not visit Viserys that night as you promised; your mind was a maelstrom of thought and emotions not even the most skilled seaman could navigate safely as you fell into the warm fur of your bed. 

YouTube Playlist

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry4, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @justarandomfloewerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe, @im-sidney, @aurorathi, @marihoneywk

Y'all know the clip of 50 Cent where he says, "fuck T.I., fuck Nelly, fuck 50. I'm like, what he'd say fuck more for?"

That was literally the reader when Vaemond called her a whore. I just thought that was so funny, lol.

Also, special thanks to all those who kept up with me during my small hiatus. Now that there ain't no boys in my life no more, I can finally do what I love again! Never give up what you love for anyone. Ever.

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason. Message me so I can fix it!

[raspberry-arev]

Eighth House genetically engineered uncle/nephew duo! Silas was really just. Like that, huh. The self-importance, the hypocrisy, the inability to self reflect, the the the AUDACITY of this lily-white bitch! he is iconic tho. anyway, I'm super close to completing the set of portraits for all the houses in book 1!! Guess who's coming next hehehe

[mask131]

Myth reminder of the day

Loki is NOT Thor’s brother.

The idea of Loki and Thor being brothers comes from Marvel, who reinvented completely the relationship of the two gods. In Norse mythology, they do not share the same father, nor the same mother. 

The reason why Marvel could easily reinvent them as brothers (and the reason why this false conception survives to this day when dealing with Norse myths) is because in Norse myths, Norse legends, old Norse texts, Thor and Loki are often presented as a duo, going on adventures together as an iconic pair. Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser - Antique version, so to speak. 

But in Norse mythology Loki is... Thor’s uncle. Paternal uncle to be precise. Yes Loki is someone’s brother: Odin’s brother. Not Thor’s. (After that versions hesitates on whether Loki is Odin’s full brother or just a “blood-brother”, but overall they have a brotherly relationship). So while Marvel reinvented the “duo dynamic” as the one of siblings ; in Norse mythology the “duo dynamic” was the one of an uncle and a nephew. 

[abeinginsand]

Can we have 🫂💤 for Taylor? :3

Heya Cereal and definitely!! Thanks for the ask and sorry for the delay. Just got back in from work! Spinning him around in my mind, such a silly little guy :]

---

Friendship Headcanon

As a nephew cousin uncle pseudo sibling duo, Hermie and Taylor are constantly antagonizing each other haha. Teasing each other about their crushes, arguing about some show they both watch, and other stuff. Giving each other random titles while also alternating who gets called "uncle" or "nephew".

On the softer side, they try to look out for each other. Taylor staying behind in the cat bus to keep watch/guard things while he's having a flare up day. Hermie coincidentally having a sudden stomach ache and staying behind to keep him company. The sound of cat purring and the great debate of the top ten anime and play betrayals is a fun distraction.

Hermie having some shape-shifting issues in public place and Taylor doing an intense series of anime poses and jokes to draw attention away. When Hermie calms, he musters enough energy to give a playful critique of the performance. Taylor ends up surprised because it's the nicest critique he's heard him give to anyone. "Well if you're so surprised, I can easily take such words back? 🤨" to which Taylor says no take backs haha.

And since we're getting into the sleep part next... Taylor is very affectionate with his friends. Usually in the form of high fives, fist bumps, a hand on the shoulder, and leaning against them if sitting together. Sometimes he'll end up falling asleep if it's during a movie night, game, or car ride.

---

Sleeping headcanon

Taylor has an easy time falling asleep while sometimes struggling to stay asleep for long, especially if he's alone or feels alone. He tends to sleep with a pile of pillows and his childhood toy, a Santa Snoopy. Having something to hold onto is comfy, often holds Hermie's or Lincoln's hands when they have sleepovers. Unfortunately, Taylor usually ends up moving a lot in his sleep so watch out--ending upside down or half way off the bed at times. If napping, he likes leaning on people like his mom if having a little movie night on the couch or always falling asleep in his dads arms as a baby. Nicky coming late to hq and everyone thinks it's because he thinks it's cool 😎. Real reason being not wanting to wake up his baby boy who looks like a little angel in his sleep.

When he adopts Zoro (gray cat I've drawn a few times), the cat likes to sleep curled around his head on a pillow. The purring is soothing and tends to help him fall back asleep. Though he is not immune to scrolling social media on his phone at 3 am instead.

In dreamland, Taylor tends to dream of a mix of shows or manga that he's looked at recently. He is always in the protagonist spot and no matter the plot there is always a mom character that is basically a dream Cassandra. It's a version of her that let's him break more rules and have more weapons though. In a nightmare scenario, he tends to still be in a plot except no mom and no sidekicks. Lonely and lost protagonist traveling through an ever-changing and dimly lit cavern. The little flame torches are his only comfort there.

On a sillier side, he has attempted lucid dreaming a few times. One of those times was a dream version of the school and he explored each classroom, spotting different characters hidden amongst the students. He spent most of the dream in band class with Miku! The teen was on keyboard and she sang one of many one piece opening songs. For some reason, it was a hard rock cover and her pitch was shifted down. Next song was a Rick roll and as soon as he dramatically gasped about the betrayal...

He woke up and realized he was snoozing on his keyboard with his music editing software stuff open on his computer.

[winderlylandchime]

1/2We are officially on 3x13! He legit ran into the house, sat on the couch and like tapped it and didnt let me do anything else before.

‘Look at Brian all dramatic and sexy. OH LOOK AT BOTH OF THEM ALL DRAMATIC AND SEXY. Oh shit the cop didnt show? I forgot about that. Of course he looked hot Brian. It’s Justin’ ‘WHO THE FUCK IS KNOCKING ALL THE DAMN TIME AT HIS PLACE? (hunter shows up) ITS MY BOY HUNTER! HES ALIV- A CONDOM?! Hunter…i am both impressed and traumatized. (And justin showed up) aw they canceled gay as blaz- thats brians shirt! OH WAIT TILL HUNTER FINDS OUT THEY ARE MARRIED IN MY HEART’ the best scene of the episode is now up *starts hysterically laughing and rewinds it 2 times* ‘HE FUCKED A MURDERED!! MHM HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! OH HE SAID YEAH! *pauses tv* HE SAID YEAH! HE FUCKING SAID YEAH! I know season 1 Brian is sick to his stomach somewhere out there. BUT ME? I AM HAPPY AS EVER! HE HAS A BOYFRIEND! (brian kinda defends hunter or whatever) i fuck with this duo! They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian.’ That scene between Em/Ted is up where they’re having sex ‘oh no. Ted no. Stop. TED, Emmett baby, YOU NEED TO RUN! I feel bad cause i like Ted but damn it Em RUN, i think there’s no saving him. TED STOP! Oh Emmett is breaking my heart, i cant watch this. ted is killing me.’ ‘HI BRIAN! GIVING A USED CONDOM TO A COP IS A DIFFERENT LEVEL OF ICONIC. I love this guy *points to the screen* i love you. *randomly stops ep on Brian and just stares at him for a minute* yeah’ *continues the ep* ‘THEY WERE PARTNERS? Of course they were. I fucking hate cops. Can we get rid of them in this show? Isnt it enough theyre already out there *points to window* ‘fuck, justin is in trouble..THATS RIGHT HIM AND BRI BRI WERE BOYFRIENDS BEFORE! he kinda did fuck the boss, didnt he? Good for you, Blondie! (Justin says that if its any consolation he was doing a kick ass job) *stops tv and starts laughing and literally falls back in the couch with his feet up in the air and kicks them* yes, you were doing a kick ass job! APOLOGIZE? Bitch, fuck you and your apology.’ Scene with Mel/Linds/Mikey comes on and all he says is ‘this is so fucking weird…and dumb’ Mikey asks Em when hes gonna apologize to Mel: ‘this is a little fucked up. I mean yeah, it was rude but she also should apologize to him because she has no fucking right to say that to him…*he then goes silent for a really long time*…you know who would’ve appreciated Em calling her a cunt? Brian. He’d laugh.’ ‘Oh Emy. No don’t defend Ted! No no no, you need to save yourself please baby boy! I love you too much to let you go like this!’ ‘BRIAN AND JUSTIN! THEYRE WALKING! Why arent they holding hands? Rude. Exactly Blondie, Bri Bri is right! Your education is important and it’s your ticket out of here! Okay, so you dont care about money but do you care about a house? Food? Health insurance? Exactly, so listen to my boy Bri Bri, and go there and apologize cause sometimes you gotta convince stupid people that they won. And finish your school cause that’s how you go places in lif- *looks at me in absolute horror* oh my god, i sound like dad. I sound like mom AND dad. OH FUCKING SHIT ON A STICK WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? I mean brian is absolutely right but i dont wanna sound old like that so *whispers softly* fuck school’ ‘THE COP DID IT! Carl stop disappointing me! I kinda had some faith in you and then you ruined it!’ ‘BRIAN WHY ARE YOU BACK AT THE BAR? YOURE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED! HEY! BRIAN IS MORE THAN AN ASSHOLE. He is also pretty! shit he is not holding back, going for the kill with the photo. He actually cares a lot about this. BRIAN DO NOT GIVE HIM YOUR NAME. HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN AN EPISODE OF LITERALLY ANY CRIME SHOW?! *looks at me worried* if he gets hurt…no wait, if ANYTHING happens to Brian, i will burn everything to the ground! He has been through enough! *head in his hands at this point* Bri..Baby..Brian… why are you telling him all this..damn, i forgot about the Trump wannabe. *points to tv angrily* HEY! What did i just say? Get your hands off my Bri Bri! *looks at me angrily* NOTHING better happen to him. Not now. Not later. Got it?’

OH MY GOODNESS DEAR SWEET ANON!

They could have weird uncle/nephew potential…..if hunter just stops trying to fuck Brian <- wait until brother (and Hunter) finds out Hunter is straight! I do love the Brian / Hunter dynamic so much. So many iconic lines come out from it. Including THEE SCENE with “you fucked a murderer.”

Brian would appreciate Em calling Mel a cunt. He really would.

Dyingggg over your brother turning into your parents. It comes for us all at some point. I open my mouth and my mother comes out. It’s frightening.

How sweet that your brother is so worried for Brian… but he’s the main character, nothing bad happens to him beyond cancer (with a 99% survival rate) and a broken bone and s5.

[airenyah]

so i was tagged by @lurkingteapot to list my 9 favorite tv shows. i find it difficult to define "favorite" so i'm just gonna list a whole bunch of current faves, past faves, and other series that stuck with me or have a special place in my heart for whatever reason.

tagging @magsimags @newyearknwwme @swabianhotpocket @killiru @gaym3bo1 @ranchthoughts @gillianthecat @feralmuskyscentedhoepran @telomeke – feel free to ignore this if you've been tagged already or if you don't feel like participating <3

here are mine in alphabetical order (bc i really CAN'T do a ranking):

(details under the cut)

bad buddy series:

you've seen the state of my blog for the past 1.5 years. i'm not even gonna elaborate

galavant:

I MISS GALAVANT EVERY SINGLE DAY. it was gone too soon, even if the renewal for a second season was a huge surprise (forever sad we couldn't get a 3rd season).

please this series is so funny and entertaining and just iconic. the dialogue is SOOOO quotable and the songs are so funny and amazing!!!!!!!!!! (i mean hello it's alan menken!!!!!)

it's got badass ladies, a pathetic little meow meow king, A DRAGON (i super believe in tad cooper <333), an army of gays, pirates who are the lords of the sea (except for the part with the sea), a knight in shinging armour who is some over-muscled chauvinistic self-indulgent egotistic stingy prissy narcisissy jackass in a caaaaaaan, and so much more

PLEASE IF YOU LOVE DISNEY MOVIES AND MUSICALS AND FOURTH WALL BREAKS DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND GO WATCH THIS LITTLE GEM OF A SERIES. PLEASE. it's my favorite thing ever <333333333

fun fact: the title of my blog which goes "oh poop, i got gravy on my tummy flowers!" is a quote from this series

moonlight chicken:

this is one of the 3 series that i've rated as a 10/10 on mydramalist, so i HAD to include it and well. it's just. i don't know how to put it into words

this series and the characters just feel so real. i like how every single character has their own baggage to carry and how they all come together and influence each other. and i really like that this isn't your standard fluffy romance story. actually, one of my favorite things in this series is how the break-up between alan and wen is a major plot line. and i like how messy it all is, how long it takes them to actually draw the line. again, it just feels so real.

not to mention there's a deaf character!!!! please heart and li ming were just so wholesome 🥺🥺🥺 and li ming's relationship with his uncle was just so endearing

once again i am begging gmmtv:

FIRSTMIX MAIN COUPLE SERIES WHEN????

can we please, PLEASE, have another series with earth and fourth as an uncle/nephew duo?? fuck romantic actor pairs, give me familial ones!! you've already let fourth keep the same mother* two series in a row, let him keep the uncle too!!!! *(on that note: i ADORE lookwa. i don't fuck but she's a milf)

orphan black:

i'm not sure i ever actually finished this series (i think i'm still missing the final season??) but i just HAD to include it bc tatiana maslany, okay. tatiana maslany. that's it, that's all i'm gonna say

skam (norsk):

you had to be there

supernatural:

og followers will remember when this was still a spn blog. yes, this show makes the list. once a spn blog, always a spn blog*. free me.

*fun fact: this started as a spn blog and that's something that's actually still visible in my tagging system. spn is the only show where i don't tag episodes as #series abbreviation 1.01 but i tag the ep by the number itself without specifying the series

the brightest star in the sky:

during the pandemic my mom came to me and said "you need to watch this series. the male lead reminds me so much of your brother". i watched it with her. she was right. the male lead is exactly like my little brother. to the point where there was this one scene where the male lead was criticizing the female lead's outfit and my mom and i laughed and went "[brother] would totally say this too" and only a few days later my brother and i had a conversation about clothing over lunch and my brother said almost exactly the same thing as the male lead in that one scene and i looked at my mom in surprise and went "did you tell him about that scene????" as my mom was cracking up and shaking her head that no, she had not.

although, when i say the male lead is exactly like my brother, that's a lie. in fact, he's a mix of both my brother and an old friend of ours who was always like a second little brother to me (the two of them actually had similar personalities when they were teens)

and the female lead reminds me of a female friend that was also in the friend group with us (and who is one of my brother's best friends)

in fact, the dynamic between the male lead and the female lead reminds me very much of the dynamic between my brother and said female friend

all in all, the main characters are just very familiar to me and remind me of people i adore and that's why this series has a special place in my heart. (even if i constantly want to punch zheng boxu. sibling love <3)

theory of love:

ok i know this is kind of a controversial one, bc people seem to either love it or hate it BUT. just know that this series and especially the khaithird plot was made for me, and me personally <3

this series came to me at exactly the right time. it was like a mirror to my own life at the time and brought a lot of catharthis. i was going through a "break-up" with my own personal irl-khai back then and this series helped me deal with that, helped me get over him, and reconfirmed to me over and over again that i had taken the right decisions.

theory of love is also the thai drama that i've seen the most amount of times (i've watched the khaithird plot 27x that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023) (though by now bbs is a close second with 22 full watches that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023 and it might surpass theory of love at some point now that my personal irl-khai is no longer relevant in my life in any way. you know what that is!! growth!!!! the day bbs surpasses tol is the day i really, truly AM well and over my irl-khai)

you're beautiful:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is a kdrama from 2009, right?? but i didn't watch it until november 2021 where i'd had quite a day and in the evening was super exhausted and just wanted a zero-braincell show to watch and this happened to be on netflix and looked like the perfect thing for my state

little did i know it was gonna be a million-braincell show for me.

basically, i ended up being really entertained by it, saw that there were remakes, decided to check those out too and well. it got my little actor brain going. i started analyzing the acting (comparing esp the og korean version with the taiwanese remake) and it turned into this whole thing where i wrote pages and pages of notes in a google doc. i learned a lot through that and luckily we had camera acting classes at drama school during that period, so it was perfect timing. i suddenly understood so many things and what an effect it can have on the viewer if you do (or don't do) something a certain way

(oh and then a year later i inflicted this series on a uni friend of mine and it turned into this whole acting analysis project after i'd mentioned about something about acting and went "wait, i have THE perfect example for what i mean where you can see it first-hand." we had a great time and then binged the entire series during semester break. i'm planning on getting her into thai ql too, but unfortunately we're both super busy and don't really have time to watch series together)

honorary mentions:

ever night: i watched only the first season, though. and it's been a while since i saw it (3 years ago during lockdown) and so i don't remember the plot very well but... beautiful cinematography. loveable characters. fantastic acting. also the special effects when the main character did those "spells" (forgot what it was called) looked so cool??????

why r u: that was my first thai bl. the one that pulled me into the world of thai drama. considering how i'm mostly a thai drama blog now and the rebranding started with this series i couldn't not mention it, could i

my school president: it has to make the list just for episode 6 alone (gun desperately wanting to know which person from the music club tinn likes but being terrified ask and deep down knowing the answer already anyway but not feeling ready to hear it???? ooooooof that's so me-coded). anyway, all in all it's just a very sweet and wholesome drama and i'm still listening to a bunch of the songs a lot

the fosters: i was obsessed with this back in 2015. i stopped watching it shortly before the jonnor break-up bc i was busy at the time and when i saw the spoilers about the break-up i couldn't be bothered to catch up. but yeah, i was really into it for a while as well

andi mack: i've made multiple gifsets of that show. i don't gif a lot so yeah. considering that i bothered to sit down and make gifs for this, i think andi mack deserves an honorary mention. i wasn't suuper obsessed with it but i did quite like watching it

merlin (bbc): it's just very entertaining ok and the characters are fun to watch and have fun dynamics

[iviarellereads]

Gideon the Ninth, Chapter 12

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Sixth House icon) In which something lost is found.

One morning, Teacher commends Gideon on fitting in, despite him having sat with her at some meals and knowing that she's definitely not. He's also said that he enjoys all the bustle, when he and Gideon were alone in the room.(1)

By now, Gideon has met nearly all the adepts and cavaliers, but all except Coronabeth and Magnus give her a wide berth. Still, you learn a lot, being silent. The Second House behave like soldiers forced into vacation. The Third seem to come together only because of Coronabeth's social gravity, like planets to her star. The Fourth are like ducklings to the Fifth. The Sixth and Seventh are never anywhere to be found. The Eighth duo, the uncle-nephew duo, Gideon sees only rarely, but that's more than enough, as they act like Gideon is contagious with something.

The corridor to the Ninth assigned living quarters is now garlanded with bones. Gideon left a note for Harrow asking what was with the skulls, and Harrow replied simply "Ambiance." That Ambiance means even Magnus hesitates to greet Gideon, so she wants to shove it somewhere uncomfortable.(2)

Dulcinea Septimus seems to spend all her time on various terraces, reading romance novels. Occasionally she spots Gideon and asks her to move a pillow or just to listen as she recounts the plot of the book she's reading. The sword is never again mentioned.

Gideon goes back to the training room often, even though she prefers to train by herself. She wouldn't need half of what she's done to join the Cohort, but she's always hoped she'd be rushed through and get sent to the front promptly with her skills and strength. Her fantasies about Harrow opening a letter detailing Gideon's medals and prize money and saying something like "Turns out Griddle could swing a sword after all" often get her through a hundred reps or more.

Still, no one can train every minute of the day, so she spends a lot of time wandering the Canaan House complex. A lot of places are blocked off, with CAUTION tape and crosses spray painted on blast doors. You can only go about fifty meters below the dock, and a hundred meters up. She doesn't get bored, exactly, the Ninth kills boredom out of one, but it makes her suspicious.

One morning, Harrow's pillow isn't freshly rumpled differently than it was the morning before, and there's no fresh layer of black clothes in the laundry hamper. Gideon makes guesses as to what might have happened.

1. Harrow had been prevented from coming home for reasons, e.g. that (i) She was dead; (ii) She was too impaired; (iii) She was busy. 2. Harrow had chosen to live elsewhere, leaving Gideon free to put her shoes on Harrow's bed and indiscriminately rifle through all her things. 3. Harrow had run away.

Gideon immediately dismisses option 3, because her childhood would've been MUCH smoother if Harrow were that type. 2 is exciting, but seems almost as unlikely. Harrow is too proper to let Gideon do up all the buttons on her shirts one button off in the wardrobe.(3)

This leaves only option 1. (iii) relies on Harrow being busy enough to forget to come back, which ties back into the dismissal of allowing for option 2. Harrow would never fail to account for Gideon's chaos gremlin-itude. (i) would be the world's happiest accident or murder, and if it was murder, what if the murderer was, like, weird, would that make Gideon's subsequent marriage to them awkward?(4) Maybe they could just exchange friendship bracelets instead.

In the end, (ii) seems the most likely. Harrow hasn't even used the paint supplies, and Gideon has never seen Harrow's naked face.

So it is that Gideon puts on her robe and starts searching. She finds Magnus in the chemical smelling pit room, supervising the skeletons cleaning it, with his trig and glossy-haired adept(5) but certainly no Harrow there so she darts back out before Magnus can finish greeting her. She's not on the terraces, or on the docking bay, or anywhere in the east wing.

At lunch, Gideon broods over her bread and cheese, and decides to give up. It's a futile task in such a large area. And really, it's Harrow's fault for being so secretive and controlling. She wouldn't even thank Gideon for finding her.

Only, by the time Gideon finishes eating, she gives up on giving up, and resumes the search.(6) She finds a door she can force open that she never tried before, leading to a staircase, leading to a precarious terrace, leading to another door, to a hallway, to a curious statue with no arms or head(7), in what may once have been a lobby with elevator access. Down a staircase in the corner of that room, she starts to hear another conversation.

Two people, the "Warden" and another, discuss whether something is impossible, or merely improbable. The Warden has scried the ages of some objects nearby each other, but one is nine thousand years old, and one is about fifty years old. The other voice protests that the limit of scrying is ten thousand years, but the Warden maintains that it's improbable that this object Gideon can't see is three thousand years older than this other object Gideon can't see.

"Inexplicable, Warden." "Certainly not. Like everything else in this ridiculous conglomeration of cooling gas, it's perfectly explicable, I just need to explic-it." "Indubitable, Warden."

The Warden decides that either the whole building was scavenged from a garbage hopper, or he's being lied to on a molecular level. There's something here, like in his fourth circle exams, when the masters seeded the core database with thousands of false records, to teach them a lesson: that you can't rely on anything, because anything can lie to you.(7)

By now, Gideon has snuck up close enough to see them. A rangy young man in a grey cloak, light glinting off the spectacles on his nose(8), and a tall, equally grey-wrapped young woman with a scabbard at her hip. Both are filthy, and twitchy. Unfortunately, Gideon has moved too close, and the sight of a painted skull face in dark robes in a dark corner can't be good for the heart. The cavalier stays absolutely still for a moment, then launches at Gideon, sword out. Gideon draws her arms quickly, and they fight. Gideon quickly realizes this is a true warrior, like herself, not a mere cavalier, and is exhilarated at their matched strengths, the cav even perhaps having a slight advantage.

The necromancer calls out "Camilla!" telling her to disengage. She does so, backing up toward her adept, who does something and makes a false flame wall between the two cavs until Gideon sheathes her rapier and puts up her hands in a ceasefire gesture.

The adept lowers the barrier, wiping bloody sweat from his brow, and chastises his cavalier lightly, then offers apologies to Gideon for the unscheduled bout but NOT for drawing on someone sneaking around in all black. Gideon wants badly to ask how the cav did a backflip down the stairs like that, but is asked if she's here about Nonagesimus, and the Sixth pair(9) read something into her blank expression. Face paint is great for masking.

The necro wrings his hands and asks if Gideon's seen Harrow since the night before last? Gideon shakes her head so emphatically she's surprised her hood doesn't fall off. The young man says she's cutting it fine. Harrow was down there(10) last night, and her blood is on the floor. Her intravenous blood.

At this clarification, something snaps in Gideon, and her body starts moving before the rest of her can catch up. She finds herself trying to lift the hatch, her arms embarrassingly not up to the task. The necro sighs explosively, tosses his bag to Camilla, and bemoans cavaliers. He says it won't open, because Harrow has the Ninth's key. This close, Gideon can see past his spaceflight-thick glasses to the perfect grey eyes behind them.

He had the eyes of a very beautiful person, trapped in resting bitch face.

Gideon keeps futilely trying to open the hatch, while the Warden explains that Harrow's blood hadn't dried yet when he saw it, so she's likely still close to life, and asks Cam to check the perimeter. She finds no sign Harrow left, so the Warden says she's still down there.

At this, Gideon finally breaks her silence and says "Then get off your ass and help me," and he sounds almost relieved when he says "Sure." Something flies through the air, and he fails to catch it, so Gideon gets a half decent look at a loop similar to the one she was given that first day, but with two keys on it. He picks them up, uses the longer one to open the lock on the hatch, and Gideon swings it open dramatically to reveal a ladder of metal staples in a long, dark hole.

Camilla points at the hole, and Gideon looks at her, again noticing her eyes which are not quite grey or brown, but unreflective and fathomless. Cam suggests Gideon go first, then Palamedes,(11) then herself.

At the bottom of the hole is a "retro installation" you'll have to read described for yourself. Palamedes leads the way, and Gideon notices that the sounds they make don't echo, are dulled by the paneling on the walls. There are signs indicating ten laboratories, a pressure room, preservation, mortuary, work rooms, and a sanitiser down various branches.

They head toward Sanitiser, and find blood smeared and splattered on the floor and walls. The trail leads inside the Sanitiser rooms, to a cocoon about the size of a person but made of bone. Gideon kicks it open to reveal Harrow.

Instead of the dance of joy she'd planned to greet Harrow's dead body with, she tells the Sixth she can take it from here. They ignore her, and check for life signs. All good, probably just some dehydration, a drop in blood pressure, and she made the cocoon (which Palamedes is absolutely fascinated by) defensively when she half woke up once, then went back to sleep.

Gideon asks if they can tell all that from Sixth necromancy. Camilla says it's not necromancy, just curative science. Doctor stuff. And Harrow can be moved now. Gideon slings Harrow over her shoulder, at which breath wheezes out of the tiny necromancer, and the cocoon shatters into chips and pebbles. Palamedes whips out a ruler and measures a piece of it before they leave.

At the top of the ladder, Cam takes Harrow's weight for a moment to let Gideon get out safely, then they close the hatch. Palamedes says she needs eight hours of sleep, in a bed not a library, and to tell Harrow she clinks when she walks if she asks how he knew she was in the library.

Gideon says she owes them one. Cam says they did it for free, and Palamedes agrees but asks Gideon to take some advice: it's dangerous down the hatch, and they should stop splitting their forces. Gideon asks how it's dangerous, Palamedes says if he knew why it was dangerous, it wouldn't be. Gideon doesn't understand this, and asks how he figures it. Palamedes replies, because he's the greatest necromancer of his generation.

The not-so-unconscious bundle on Gideon's shoulder mutters "Like hell you are."(12) Palamedes looks satisfied as he says he thought that would bring her around, and reminds Gideon: liquids and rest, and good luck to them.

=====

(1) This priesthood appears to have been alone here for years in isolation, Gideon, give them some credit. They probably do think Gideon's antisocial behaviour is social, and that having anyone new in Canaan House is a bustle. (2) Gideon would be so close to making actual friends if she could talk to anyone here. ;~; (3) Beautiful prank, no notes. (4) This may feel like a callback, but it's not. Muir's forming a habit of dropping you kind of in media res, in the middle or near the end of the thought, without showing you what led there. At any rate, this implies two things, imo: first, that Gideon would be so grateful to anyone who would rid her of Harrow that she might feel obligated to propose marriage in thanks; second, smaller, that Gideon still sees herself on some level as Harrow's property, as the spoils of war, belonging to the strongest, and that anyone who could defeat Harrow might win her as an object. Gideon undervalues herself consistently, and even her cocky thoughts are self-deprecating a lot of the time in the subtext. Just look at her comments about her ultimate fantasy being that Harrow might, one day, say she supposes Gideon could swing a sword in the correct direction. This series is like an onion on steroids. (5) Trig - neat and smart in appearance. (6) Again she says one thing and means the other. (7) Including the narrative. (8) Muir's watched some anime in her time, I see. If you're unfamiliar, TVTropes has you covered! (9) Remember, even if we weren't about to find this out for sure, the Dramatis Personae made this inevitable as we've met everyone else. Use every resource you have! (10) Presumably, down the hatch they're examining. (11) I used to pronounce this as "PAL-uh-ME-deez" in my head, but I guess the audiobooks say it closer to "calamities" because I heard it that way in a podcast of audio listeners and honestly I like it way more. One of these days, I'll convince my library to license the audiobooks on Libby, and hear for myself. Or get another free Audible credit trying to lure me back into a subscription I don't have because I don't listen to many audiobooks, and use it for this. Either way. (12) Nothing like being insulted to wake someone out of a half-coma.

[trustlifestyle]

Flaming lips vein of stars

#FLAMING LIPS VEIN OF STARS FULL#

Alternate Album Cover: The band's album covers under Warner (Bros.) Records made prominent use of the label's shield logo as a design element.Action Girl: Yoshimi in "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots".King's Mouth note featuring narration from Mick Jones of The Clash (2019).1** / Pompeii am Gotterdammerung / The W.A.N.D. Intro: Wayne in the ball / Race for the Prize / Silver Trembling Hands* / The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song (With All Your Power) / Fight Test** / Enthusiasm for Life Defeats Existential Fear*** > Convinced of the Hex* / Mountain Side / Vein of Stars / Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. Set list: The Flaming Lips at the Greek Theatre, Aug. Photos by Miguel Vasconcellos, The Orange County Register. It’s almost as if all those balloons and all that confetti was icing, rather than the whole cake. The group has also fully renovated its tired set list, retiring (at least for the night) stupendous-but-expected staples like “She Don’t Use Jelly” and “Waitin’ for a Superman” and replacing them with out-of-thin-air obscurities, like the trancy but explosive “Enthusiasm for Life Defeats Existential Fear” (from a U.K.-only best-of) and the rowdy “Mountain Side,” dusted off from their 1990 album In a Priest Driven Ambulance.Īdd in a few of the band’s slower, more psychedelic numbers ( “Vein of Stars,” “Pompeii am Gotterdammerung”) and you’ve got a show with a bit of awkward pacing, but no matter: by the time the set closed with the life-celebrating “Do You Realize?,” the crowd had been treated to call-and-response ooh-ooh-oohs, audience-led karate chops and Coyne singing an entire song from the shoulders of a scary-faced ape. Other favorites, however, like “Fight Test” and Yoshimi‘s title track, were pared down, stripped of drums to let their melodies shine even more. His voice now reaches notes he once croaked through, and the band (multi-instrumentalist Steven Drozd, guitarist Michael Ivins and drummer Kliph Scurlock) has become a tight machine rather than a loosely-hinged engine, thanks in large part to an auxillary player who helped new arrangements (like an extra-percussive “Yeah Yeah Yeah Song”) snap, crackle and pop. But the bold steps forward the Lips took at the Greek are the right ones to make right now, even if they are totally obscured behind celebratory walls of floating paper and clouds of dry ice smoke.Įmerging in the ball once again (pictured, above) and inviting members of the audience on stage (this time in costumes ranging from full-bodied sasquatch to sexy snow-angel to cartoon butterfly), Coyne and his gang have finally put more time and energy into the actual music, and it shows. 13 release of a new double album ( Embryonic) approaches, it was hard not to walk into the Greek Theatre Monday night wanting to experience something bigger and better, even with the addition of dance-rock duo Ghostland Observatory‘s pseudo-Laserium show and the very Lips-ish new band Stardeath and White Dwarfs, led by Uncle Wayne’s nephew Dennis Coyne.ĭespite the overall joy the Flaming Lips have exuded through tours that have elevated them to amphitheater-sized alt-rock stars - behind the rightly exalted albums Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots(2002) and its follow-up At War with the Mystics (2006) - their creative drive must demand that they bring their audience a new gimmick. And fans have been dancing on stage in costume with them for years, adding an anything-can-happen energy to an already chaotic live mess/masterpiece. Frontman Wayne Coyne (above) has developed better self-pointed cameras and more props, including his now-iconic blowup space-ball, which he uses to walk over the audience’s raised hands at the beginning of shows. Those baggies became balloons, then cannons.

#FLAMING LIPS VEIN OF STARS FULL#

For nearly two decades at the end of the last century, Oklahoma City’s Flaming Lips were an obscure psych-rock band known to a hardcore few as one of the best live bands on the planet, their weirdo songs enhanced by low-budget tricks like giving audiences Zip-Loc-ed bags full of confetti, to all be thrown at once.Īs the Lips have gotten bigger this decade, so have their shows.

[orangerosebush]

As a student of literature and philosophy, I want to speak to the allusion present in the scene of TOD wherein Artemis and Butler pretend to be a nephew-son duo to rob a bank. The utilization of the uncle-nephew dynamic (rather than father-son) as their adopted identities is distinct enough to appear intentional, and there are limited iconic uncle-nephew figures in literature to which this scene may be tied. However, the tone and imagery of the scene are suggestive of Colfer paying homage to the most famous uncle-nephew duo of all time: early 2000s band LMFAO's Redfoo and SkyBlu 

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) I see ghosts in their smiles  DC

A03

Bruce never fully understood the relationship between Flash and Green Lantern. At a glance, they were so different that logically one would think that they'd fight more than they had, but that had never been the case; Barry and Hal had bickered, had argued, but rarely ever fought. Barry had been mild mannered and polite, while Hal was brash and confident, but these differences hadn’t driven them apart, in fact, it had brought them together. The two of them had been a pair on and off of missions, though many hadn't known the true extent.

Not until it was too late.

The Founders though, they’d all been well aware. They’d had a front row seat to the evolution of the relationship between the two of their more colourful members. They’d seen the two of them go from acquaintances to teammates, to friends, and then to lovers. They’d all teased them in their own ways, found them wrapped around each other in some way or another; they’d interrupted dates for missions, had stumbled across them in embarrassingly compromising situations, had even offered them their blessings, because despite everything, Barry and Hal were good for each other. Somehow, despite being the two most scattered members of the League, they managed to ground each other.

Barry and Hal had been a good pair, but Barry’s death had been the start of Hal’s downward spiral. Barry’s death had been a wake up call for them all, in the same way Jason’s death had been for Bruce; they’d all known, of course, that they were flirting with death everyday, but it hadn’t truly sunk in for a lot of them until Barry had sacrificed himself to save the world.

Now, they were both gone. Both dead; and despite all the differences Bruce had had with them - Jordan more so than Barry - he  misses them.

He misses the old Flash and Green Lantern, more than he ever thought he would. It makes the fact that there’s two new heroes in their place all the more painful.

Wally West and Kyle Rayner.

Bruce has known Wally since the boy was a lanky teen in yellow following his uncle like a cheerful, friendly shadow. He’s known the young man since he was a child, and it’s strange, seeing him in Barry’s place. It’s thrown all of them off balance, having one of the children they helped train standing among them. Wally’s the Flash now, a young man, but Bruce still looks at him and sees the child that used to come over every weekend to play with Dick.

Kyle Rayner doesn’t have that same history. For all intents and purposes, he had been a normal kid until the ring had chosen him and he’d become the last Green Lantern in the galaxy. He’s a nice enough kid, of an age with Bruce’s own boys, with a relatively clean record that paints an image of a friendly, easy-going artist with his head in the clouds. He’s good at what he does, despite learning it all on his own, and mostly competent despite how new he was at hero-ing. But Hal’s actions had proved that they had to be wary of Lanterns, proved that Bruce had gotten too complacent around his teammates, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Bruce keeps the new Lantern at an arm’s distance, close enough to stop if he loses it too.

Watching them together is like looking at ghosts.

"It's like watching  them all over again." Clark’s voice is nostalgic and sad, and Bruce very pointedly forces his eyes away from the two young men huddled together near the back of the cafeteria. Superman’s eyes are distant, but there's a light of understanding inside of them when he meets the other hero’s gaze.

Clark knows him too well.

Despite not answering verbally, Bruce inclines his head and grunts.

Wally and Kyle had been a couple no one had suspected, not with the way the two of them bickered. They’re both young, rash, impetuous, and it tends to lend to an image of two young cats hissing and spitting over territory; somehow, without any of them really noticing, the two youngest main roster members of the League had drifted together and meshed despite everything. The arguing had gone from genuine antagonism to something fun and easy that others often found amusing in darker situations.

Now, it wasn’t surprising to see them tucked together with some game or another, or surrounded by snacks in the common room. There had been plenty of talk between the older members of the League, those who had known about their predecessors’ relationship, about another iconic Flash-Green Lantern duo, to the point where Bruce almost decides to not put the two young men on missions together any more, just to avoid having to look at ghosts every day.

But they were good at what they do, and they work well together, despite their bickering, almost like they know instinctively what the other needs in the thick of things without needing to communicate. They tend to poke each other into going beyond their limits with well-placed quips and jokes, and they get the job done quickly and efficiently.

It really was like looking at Barry and Hal again, and maybe that wasn’t a good thing, considering Barry’s death had just been the start of Jordan’s spiral.

Clark offers him a sympathetic smile, “The kids are growing up fast.” The Kryptonian hums slightly, slanting him a slight look. “I always thought it would be Dick and Wally in the end.”

He’d thought the same too, but Dick wouldn’t appreciate his thoughts on it.

Bruce winces slightly, “Nightwing’s happy with Starfire and Oracle.” He says. He’d always thought the same, with the way his ward and Barry’s nephew had been as teens; he knew they’d tried it, had experimented together quite frequently, just like he knew they ended it on good terms as friends, because it was what worked best for them, in the end.

They’d been good together, but they’d decided they were better as friends and teammates, and Bruce would respect that choice. It was the least he could do, after everything he’d put Dick through.

Clark nods his head, right as a burst of laughter drags both of their attention back to where Kyle and Wally are sitting. At some point, Kyle had flipped his sketchbook construct to show whatever he had been drawing to the redhead, who had dissolved into cackles at whatever was on the page, snickering into his food. As they watch, the young Green Lantern grins boyishly, leaning forward to give the speedster a quick peck on the cheek before shoving a hand full of fries into Wally’s mouth and laughing himself.

Around them, the noise had drawn the attention of other heroes in the cafeteria, and Bruce doesn’t need to look to see that they’re all softening at the sight of the two young men.

“They’re their own people.” Bruce says finally, “Their own heroes.”

Clark nods, expression soft, “It’s different.” He admits, “But sometimes I still end up calling them by another name.” He shrugs, looking repentant, when Bruce frowns at him. “I called Wally, Barry the other day during monitor duty, because he said something that reminded me too much of him. I mean, it’s not surprising that he  would act like Barry - but it throws me off sometimes.” Clark looks sheepish, apologetic, “It’s strange, having Wally working with us. He’s a good kid, but-”

“-But he’s not Barry.” Bruce agrees with a sigh. “We always knew he would take over as the Flash after Barry.” Barry hadn’t exactly been quiet about it; he’d been so proud of his nephew, and would tell anyone who listened that Wally would become the Flash someday, that he’d be even better than Barry.

“I’d always hoped it would be because Barry retired.” Clark says sadly, “Have a few kids; they did such a good job with Wally. Maybe he and Iris would have managed to talk Hal into coming with them - Hal never could deny them anything, even if he tried to act tough.”

But they were all dead - Iris first, then Barry, and then Jordan.

“Kyle’s a good kid, too.” Superman continues, “Ernest, creative, even if he’s a little rough around the edges. The Lanterns would have loved him - probably would have taken him under their wings.”

Bruce grunts, and Clark slants him a knowing look. As much as he likes Rayner as a person, or how much he reminds him of Dick, he can’t trust him, not after Jordan proved to them how dangerous an uncontrolled Lantern could be.

“He’s  not Hal, Bruce.” Clark points out, “And Hal did the right thing, in the end - thanks to him.”

“Jordan proved that I was getting too complacent.” Bruce says blankly, “Every hero here is just one bad day away from becoming the very thing we fight.”

Clark sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss against Bruce’s cheek, there and gone. “My break’s over.” The Kryptonian says apologetically, smiling. “You should go home and get some sleep, Bruce. A full eight hours, at least.”

Another laugh rings out, and Bruce turns his head just enough to see that Wally had scooted his chair closer to Kyle’s, their knees bumping, and he’s moving to playfully pull the dark haired Lantern closer to press their lips together with a cheeky grin. The ketchup smeared across the artist’s cheek was proof enough of what they had been doing before.

It’s damningly charming, and sweet, but all Bruce can think when he sees them is that there’s a chance they could end up in the same situation as Barry and Hal. There’s too many ghosts in his head, too many skeletons in his closet, and two of them wear crimson and green.

[bisociallyawkwardandchad]

lance vibes. and also coran kinda idk

uffff i feel so powerful, im the iconic nephew-uncle duo, bUT in ONE person 👁👁.

[mashpotatoe]

Jimbo Kern ;)

lmao ok

fav thing: hes neat honestly like a huggable sweaty teddy bear like uncle :з he may be lacking common sense when it comes to arming children but chill guy nonetheless... one of the best sp adults

least fav thing: gun obsessed confederate flag waving bitch the fuck? voted garrison

brotp: randy and co p sure theyre in gewd terms

otp: ned and jimbo name a more iconic duo ill wait... love that for them

notp: i have never come across a jimbo ship i havent liked. in fact i have never come across any other jimbo ship apart from jimbo x ned so...?

random hc: hes a very laid back uncle whos never had kids of his own so he projects that love onto his nephews :}

unpopular opinion: idk i like his voice i think its fooney and fits him well

song: team america theme song he vibes to it

fav pic: