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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

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The dragon has three heads (Viserys x Reader x Daemon)

Summary: It's Viserys first day as King. You and your twin see him off.

A/N: We interrupt my scheduled hate of Viserys to bring you this. I thought it out when writing another request.

Warnings: Daemon x sister!Reader x Viserys to fulfill double penetration. So oral sex and vaginal sex plus Targcest.

Your limbs felt heavy. Your mind was sluggish and soft, still submerged in the waters of sleep. In and out you drifted, cradled gently in someone's arms. There was noise around you, movement. But your eyes remained closed because you knew you were safe.

A ticklish sensation on the sole of your feet made you pull it up, kneeing your pillow. The pillow made a hurt noise, and you scrunched up your face. You were not ready to wake up yet.

Your pillow shook. You looked up, blinking wearily. Daemon's eyes stared down at you. He was fighting laughter. The light inside your shared chambers was hitting him from behind, making his silver hair shine like a halo.

There was another tickle to your soles. You squirmed, and tried to hide under the sheets. You did not want to get up just yet.

“Come on. Up, sleepyheads.” Your brother's hand curled around your ankle, tugging. You whined more, clinging to your twin. “Won't the two of you see me off today?”

Daemon groaned. Now that Viserys was including him in his plans, he did not seem as amused by your plight. You echoed his noise. Viserys remained as cheerful as ever.

“Is that the way to address your King?” He teased, tickling the arch of your foot. You yipped and kicked the sheets away, letting you as naked as the day you were born.

“Thank the Gods that you are cute.” Viserys said, unbearably fond. Daemon stretched as well, fishing for his own compliments. He, too, was naked. “Both of you.”

You finally turned to face Viserys, finding him already dressed for the day. He even had his crown on. The reminder of your triumph made you smile. Though cousin Rhaenys had a stronger claim to the throne, Viserys was a man. A King always trumped a Queen. And you were the lucky woman who was married to him.

“Morning, brother.” You beamed at Viserys. He beamed right back.

Daemon pulled you closer, pressing his erection to your back.

“And what of your twin? Or are measly Princes no longer enough for you?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. Despite his playful words, you could feel Daemon's hesitation. It was Viserys first day as a King, and your first as his Queen. He probably wondered where he fitted in all of that.

During your whole childhood, the three of you had been together. Where Viserys went, Daemon and you followed. He had been the best older brother that anyone could ask for, always looking out for you.

It had been Viserys who had discovered Daemon and you, all those years ago. When the two of you were nothing more than a young girl and boy, fascinated by the differences in your bodies. Viserys had been the one to teach both of you the pleasures you could pull from it.

The three of you had married under the traditions of your house as soon as Daemon and you reached the majority. Three heads for the dragon, just as your banner, and just as Aegon and his two sisters wives.

It was not unheard of, for Targaryens to wed sister and brother. But what was unheard of was for a woman to marry two men. And so, Viserys and you had married under the Faith of the Seven to prevent a scandal. In the eyes of the realm, you were his, and it was only more cemented by your position as his queen.

It must have upset Daemon, but you knew it was the best course of action as to not attract unwanted attention. It had also been your grandfather's condition. The wounds from Maegor's reign were still too fresh in his memory.

To you, of course, it meant nothing. The bond you had with Daemon was even stronger. You were twins. Two halves of the same soul, separated into two bodies. You were never apart, not even when physically separated, for you were the same being.

Viserys gave you a look. You nodded, and turned to kiss Daemon. If he was in need of reassurances, you were going to give them to him.

You gave Daemon a slow, passionate kiss. You made sure to leave no corner of his mouth unexplored, no inch unkissed. Viserys quietly seated himself on the bed next to your twin, back propped against a pillow, legs stretched. When his hands reached for your back, you finally stopped making out with your twin and laid down, head between his thighs.

Daemon pouted.

“What are you doing?”

Viserys remained fully dressed, in what must have been a confusing sight to Daemon. Your twin and you enjoyed playing different games than this. When you were with Viserys, he liked to play husband and wife. Daemon and you had never fully evolved from the childhood games of slipping a finger in, taking something inside your mouth, raking nails across each other's ribs. While he had taken you as a man was meant to take his woman, it was a rare occasion.

You knew he had fucked other women, common whores and nobles alike. But he always came back to you, and never dared take you in such a way unless you begged for it. He didn't want to defile you, perhaps. Didn't want to lump you in with them. You were still his little sister, his hāedus. Precious, pure, Valyrian. Made by the gods to his image and likeness.

“Come on.” Viserys said, smoothing your hair back. “Doesn't she look good, brother?”

“She does. She always does.” Daemon spoke, as if caught in a trance.

“Will you get me ready for you?” You asked him, pouting. Daemon looked at Viserys. Whatever that he saw, it seemed to please him, for he leaned in over you. The wet, smacking sounds over you, told you that they had started to make out. You took your chance to run your hand over Daemon's stomach, gently scratching with your nails.

He shivered, just as you thought he would. With a gentle hand, you took his member and started to tease him. Daemon gasped.

Viserys’ hands started to pull at your nipples, making you arch from the bed. You felt yourself become slick with want already, arousal pooling in your belly and making you whine wantonly.

Your noises made your brothers pull apart. Viserys chuckled, his caresses turning more insistent now that Daemon wasn't distracting him with a kiss.

“Sweet little whore.” Daemon whispered, brushing your cheek with almost reverence. You pulled him on top of you, rubbing yourself against his thigh without an ounce of shame.

“I want you inside me, dārilaros.” You licked the shell of his ear, playfully. Daemon groaned.

“In your..?” He asked, softly. You never knew him to be so hesitant.

“My cunt, Daemon.” You rolled your eyes. You were his twin, after all.

“But Viserys…”

“I will have her mouth.” Viserys ordered, and finally took off his crown. He set it aside, and opened his breeches. You leaned your head on his thigh, watching him loom over you.

Viserys was the decision maker of the three of you. When faced with dilemmas, he took rash, decisive action. Daemon was mercurial, and prone to sudden mood swings, which often meant that he second guessed himself. You, like Viserys, were stubborn as they came.

A hand on your thigh startled you. It was Daemon, gently making room for himself. You let your thighs fall apart, showing him your slick cunt. He hummed appreciatively, and slowly started rutting against you, without entering. He dragged his tip against your entrance, teasing the both of you, before tapping it against your pearl and starting all over again.

You tried focusing on Viserys, taking him inside your mouth. He was as impatient as Daemon, though, so his hands found immediate purchase on your hair.

“Show me how good of a Queen you are, my love.” His thumb brushed over the slope of your nose, careful. You twisted yourself as good as you could, knowing that when Daemon entered, you would have a hard time doing more than using Viserys’ lap as a pillow.

His manhood was heavy on your tongue, the taste salty and musky. You looked up at him, mischievously. Viserys groaned, and urged you to take him deeper.

But you were a Targaryen and a Queen. You took orders from no one. Instead, you twirled your tongue around him, licking him sloppily. You knew there would be time for deep thrusts into your throat later on. Viserys’ thighs shook under you, throwing off your rhythm.

Daemon got down on his stomach, and sucked your pearl inside his mouth. There was no finesse to the way he was touching you, just pure desperation. It made you jolt and choke a moan around Viserys’ cock.

Daemon needed you wet and open, fast. His own desperation was showing in the way he gripped at you, almost cruel. He pressed a finger inside you and growled.

“You are soaked, little sister.”

You would have given him a snide reply, but you were too busy sucking Viserys' cock. Thank the gods the three of you had stayed up celebrating last night, or otherwise it would have been too much and too fast.

You thanked the gods that the three of you had stayed up last night celebrating, and not gone straight to bed. Otherwise, your body could not take it.

Noticing your distress, Viserys starts rubbing your breasts, softly kneading.

“You are doing so good, my Queen.”

“Our Queen.” Daemon pulls away from your cunt, annoyed.

“Treat her like it, then.”

Daemon grumbles a little, but complies. The desperate fingering of your poor hole slows down to a more manageable pace. Your moans around Viserys lost their pained edge, and you were able to go back to focusing on pleasing him.

Your twin gets more dedicated with his kisses. He slows down, licking your sex from top to bottom until you are squirming and unable to focus on anything else but the way he is kissing you.

You let go of Viserys cock, resting your head on his thigh. Your face scrunches up, jaw already a little sore. You moan, loud and high.

Your older brother gives you a kind look and pets your hair, pushing it back from your face. He seems as mesmerized by the sight of your twin lapping up the nectar between your thighs as you are.

“Be quiet.” He chides. “Or I will take your mouth until you are too sore to cry out.”

The thought, coupled with the way Daemon is starting to push his tongue inside you, makes you kneen. One of your hands timidly goes to his silver hair, encouraging him to go deeper. Your other hand reaches for Viserys, who gives you his outstretched hand to hold.

“Quiet, hāedus.” Viserys squeezes your hand.

Daemon stops his ministrations. He looks up at you, face wet with your slick, and chuckles.

“Give her your cock back, Viserys, if you are that bothered by the noise.”

“I am waiting for the two of you.”

“Afraid I will bite your cock once Daemon presses…” You tease, but before you can finish your sentence, Daemon gives your ankles a mighty tug and buries himself to the hilt inside you. “Ah. Brother…” And you are not even sure which one of them you are pleading to anymore. You have forgotten whatever smug comment you were going to say to Viserys, mouth falling open with surprise and pleasure.

Daemon feels right inside you. Warm, thick and reaching just the place where you need him to. Just the place that makes your smug comments and piling on Viserys fall away, mind gone blank with nothing but the need to give the two of them perfect Valyrian babes. Twins, like you and Daemon, or at least, a litter of siblings that can marry each other and keep your bloodline pure.

“Brat.” Daemon says, fondly. “Stop being mean to Viserys. You need to apologize. Relax your jaw for him.”

So you do. You open your mouth, letting it hang open, and give Viserys your best puppy eyed look. He snorts, very undignified for a King, and places the tip of his cock against your mouth. You whine.

“Spoiled little thing, isn't she?” Viserys pulls his hips away, and you do your best to give chase, whining more. Daemon tuts, and grips you firmly by the waist. Viserys look at him, and they exchange a glance, communicating without a word needing to be said. “Did that look like an apology to you, Daemon?”

“Not at all, brother.” He pulls out of you as well, making you whine more.

“That is so unfair!” You complain. “The two of you are teaming up against me.”

“Like you were trying to do before with me, huh?” Daemon asks, meanly pinching your thigh. You shriek and kick at him a little. “You were being mean to Viserys.”

“Oh, like you aren't!” You squirm away from him, turning on to your belly so he can’t pinch at you. You crawl towards Viserys, hoping he will protect you. Instead, he only tugs at your wrists, keeping them pinned down so you can't move.

You are trying so hard to get free of Viserys’ grip that you make a fatal mistake. You don't notice Daemon at your back, getting ready to strike. And strike he does. He smacks your arse, making you wince and fall forward into Viserys. Daemon smacks your arse again. And again. It's edging into picking of you, rather than just teasing. It's making you unbelievably wet.

“Viserys!” You scream. “Do something!”

“You are a little brat. But so is he. Enough.” Your older brother orders, letting go of your wrists. He gives Daemon a warning look. “Both of you.”

You give Daemon a superior sneer over your shoulder. You stick your tongue out. He snarls, and tugs at your hair.

“You are the Queen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Behave as it befits your station.” Viserys says. “Daemon, inside. You, open your mouth.”

Daemon laughs. You do so as well. Viserys pouts.

“It's an order from your King.” He repeats, pompously.

“Alright, alright. If the King orders it.” You say, and open up your mouth. You make your best effort to let your jaw go loose, and welcome him inside. He is considerate enough to not start thrusting right away, but you know soon that patience will be tested. Viserys is as much of a dragon as Daemon and you are, and he is not one to deny himself of his pleasure. He can take you over and over on his good days, fuck you until you cry, and remain unbothered by your tears. In a sense, Daemon and him are the same.

You feel Daemon's hands on your back, warning you that he is soon to move. You widen your stance, knees falling even more apart. He slides inside carefully enough, but the stretch still hurts. You wince, and Viserys is quick to smooth down your frown with a thumb, very gentle.

Both of your brothers are very tuned in to your reactions. Consequence of being a twin, for Daemon. Consequence of being the eldest, for Viserys. They are cautious about your discomfort. You wonder what would they be like if you were not a Targaryen.

You have heard Daemon could be quite cruel with whores. He had a taste for Valyrian girls, of pouty mouths and tight little bodies, barely out of childhood. Viserys had wandering eyes, and mistook every kindness for flirting. He only read you right because he had known you all your life. They respected your strength and power too much to do anything else.

Daemon hands goes to your pearl, rubbing quick little circles in the hope of making you relax. You force your body to accept his intrusion, and go lax in between them, trusting them to not let you fall.

Viserys starts thrusting into your mouth, shallowly at first. He works on opening up your throat for him, and you try to focus on breathing to your nose. Gagging happens regardless. Daemon jolts you too much once he starts moving not to.

“Seven Hells. Do that again.” He mutters to Viserys, after a particularly vicious thrust on your throat. “She flutters delightfully when she chokes.”

You garble out an indignant reply at their lack of consideration, but you are quickly soothed by Daemon's fingers rubbing your pearl. He keeps his strokes long, making sure to drag against your walls in the most pleasurable way.

Viserys soon starts to praise you under his breath. He is the one who has been teased longer, so it makes sense that he would be the first of the three of you to let go.

“You are so good. Your mouth, sister…”

You grin around his member. You double your efforts, sucking at him and bobbing your head with enthusiasm. Your focus is so much on him that your peak takes you by surprise, and with one last thrust of Daemon's hips, you are screaming around Viserys. The vibrations against him prove to be too much, and he too goes over the edge with a muffled curse. He barely manages to pull out of you, painting your chest white.

Daemon is spurred on by the sounds and sights around him, and he snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, before he is screaming his release. You feel it coat your thighs, and it's only then that you allow yourself to collapse into Viserys.

“I was already dressed for the day.” He complains. “Can't walk into the council covered in my own seed.”

“Change later.” Daemon says, plopping on top of you and by extension, Viserys. Your older brother groans. “You are not going yet.”

“They will come looking for me.” Viserys tries to wiggle out of the cuddle pile, but the weight of your twin, and you combined is too much to do anything.

“Let them come.”

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liminalpebble · 6 months ago

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Between the Lines, Chapter 5

Minors DNI

Cw: Dubcon

Masterlist link

Chapter 5

You sleep soundly through the night. He makes sure of it.

You only stir ever-so-slightly with an adorable little mumble when he rustles the duvet, sliding in next to you. It lightens his ruminating mood just a little. The prince lays on his side, and releases a long pensive sigh, hoping thoughts of what he'd just done would be whisked way with it. He tells himself he's still in control, and that's all that matters.

But he's not, entirely, and it matters a good deal less to him than it ought to. Loki doesn't dare let that idea surface. He holds it underwater and hopes it will drown.

He reaches his hand out to cradle the curve of your back, but hesitates; watching your shoulders undulate to the tempo of slow inhales and exhales. The moonlight paints a soft glowing highlight over you hair as it cascades around your neck and shoulders. You're so beautiful like this. He has to feel it...feel you; has to assure himself that you're really here and tangible.

He dares to touch the pads of his fingers against a lock of your hair, slyly, and light as a feather. You don't notice it consciously, even as iridescent green ribbons of light glimmer around you, enchanting you with the sweetest dreams and the deepest rest his magic can provide.

Loki smiles faintly, hoping you'll appreciate the romantic dreams he peppers in; the two of you together, flesh against flesh, fingers lacing through hair, the smell and taste of warm skin and the salt of sweat, the weight and rhythm of entwined bodies consumed by electric pleasure.

Beneath the fatigue, he suspects you must be aching as badly as he was, and he's determined to ease that splendid ache, if only in your mind...for now.

He tries not the think of how you must have been dripping deliciously between your legs all evening, incandescent with need beneath all that shy fear.

She wants me, clearly, as much as I want her. So why all this hesitation?

He knows the answer.

Because we're strangers, he reasons.

Or a least, Loki is a stranger to you. You couldn't know how his voracious studying lead the prince to your vast body of work; the fiction and poetry you'd penned, even your immaculate academic papers and petitions to do away with banning and censorship.

He even followed news of the work you'd accomplished as a librarian and archivist, preserving priceless knowledge. You were relentless and whip-smart. Any scrap of information with your name attached to it had begun to make his heart beat a little faster. He'd never felt this way before; infatuated and flustered by someone so completely from simple words on a page.

Before long, he felt that he knew you so completely; your interests, intelligence, bravery and endless imagination, even your sense of humor. Yet, it wasn't enough. He was telescopically focused on finding the version of you between the lines of your work. He pined after the details of you; your favorite foods, your favorite flowers, what you longed for from a partner, what frightened you the most and what gave you joy. Did you smile often? What did it sound like when you laugh? Was anyone there to hold you when you cry?...Did you like to dance?

He was consumed with the need to know you...really. He had to meet you.

So, Loki did what he does best. He schemed, and schemed well, using this avenue to bring you to his door...to his bed. There was no other way within your society to engage (not without a devastating scandal).

And, yes, this would still be a scandal, but much less of one than an honest courtship would be. No one would be particularly surprised that the god of chaos suddenly changed his mind about taking concubines. Most would probably shrug their shoulder at the hypocrisy. What could one expect from the god of lies?

Nothing good. He thought, sadly, No one ever expects anything virtuous from me.

He could never let you know the depth of his fascination with you...of course he couldn't. You'd think him desperate, some kind of deplorable obsessive.

It's not as if I planned to fall so hard for her. It just happened. I just...

For all the silver-tongued rationalizing he was capable of, it failed him now. Apparently, he couldn't do it for his own sake.

This is far from the first mess the god of chaos has ever made, but, for once, chaos has found him in return, and it has burrowed so deeply into his heart..into the core of him.

You turn on your back languidly as you sleep, interrupting his thoughts. He moves closer tucking himself near enough to gaze down upon your face; that beautiful face. He's pleased to hear you let out a soft breathy moan, knowing you've found one of those sinful dreams he'd given you. Your hand hovers up, reaching for him.

Warm...your fingers shock Loki with their warmth. They curl along his solid bicep pulling him closer, and though he is so much stronger, he relents easily as you gather him into your arms.

Loki curls eagerly against you. He holds you close enough that his lips brush your cheek and he kisses softly; your cheek, your temple, the curve of your jaw, your neck and shoulder.

But not your lips, no, he wants to save that indulgence for when you are wide awake.

In your sleep your breath hitches and your back arches. He holds you and watches as your body shudders in climax against his sturdy frame, lost in the heat of imaginary coupling. The sweetest dream you've ever had.

You give one last luxurious sigh, and it reaches him like incense ascending from an alter to a god; an offering. He nuzzles against your chest, falling asleep to the lullaby of your slowing heartbeat.

He smiles furtively, like a fox, then kisses your cheek, satisfied with his good work.

Good night, sweet one.

----

You wake up slowly. To your surprise you wake up alone, and apparently, untouched.

I guess he is a gentleman after all.

Still, you vaguely remember sweet dreams...wet dreams. You blush at the memory, feeling how wet you still are between your legs. Although the sex was imaginary, the climax certainly wasn't. The odd pleasure of it, considered in the light of day, it is decidedly disorienting.

The prince's vast chambers look so different in the morning, cozier and less imposing. Like their resident, you imagine their personalities can vary vastly in the span of a day. You shake your head, wondering if you'll ever really understand him, his actions, or his motives.

You look for some kind of note, but find none. He has, however, left you everything you might need in neat piles; clothes, toiletries, a scrumptious array of food. The double doors to the library have been left wide open for you. You drift around, exploring what you assume will be your new home.

The thought crashes over you like ice water.

My new home.

You heart feels impaled. You want to go home...your real home, but you can't. There's a tightness in your throat and a claustrophobia itching and buzzing at the edges of your senses.

You test the doors leading outside, or at least out of his chambers and into the main castle...every single one, and there are many. You jiggle each handle once, twice, thrice, a dozen times, to be sure.

Locked...all locked. You're not really sure what else you could expect. Of course he would lock you in your cage like a pet canary. He owns you now.

You try not to think about that as you make a pathetic attempt to eat, or as you bathe, or as you change into fresh clothes, with the hope that all these familiar rituals in such an unfamiliar place will make you feel better, but they don't.

They can't, because you didn't choose your food, or your clothes, or even the scent of your soap. Nothing is yours. Even your existence feels borrowed...borrowed from him.

The thought makes your stomach turn, and though it's been hours and you're famished, you don't dare to try eating again. Time marches on and the sky changes in great vistas of color through the tall windows. It feels as if it's teasing you, mocking you.

No, you think, he's the one teasing and mocking me. I can't blame the outside world for going on existing, whether I get to experience it or not.

Finally, as dusk descends, you resign yourself to your situation. Finding a comfortable chair, you gather yourself into it like a disconsolate child. You have no sense of how long you've been there once the main doors finally click open again and footsteps echo towards you.

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @muddyorbs @mischief2sarawr @icytrickster17 @goblingirlsarah @sweetsigyn @unlucky-number-13 @mochie85 @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @ladyofthestayingpower @mischiefmaker615 @loopsisloops @sailorholly @coldnique @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @gigglingtiggerv2 @anukulee @azula-karai-27 @eleniblue @marcotheflychair @litaloni @gruftiela @literatureatthebowofnails @meowmeow-motherfucker @wolfsmom1

#loki fanfic #au loki x reader #dark!loki #pre-Thor 1 Loki #au loki x femme reader #loki x femme reader #the holy order of the sacred mango

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jeankluv · 1 year ago

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Finding you || Jean Kirstein x f!oc

Words: 5,8k

Warnings: fluff, canon & post canon, some angst, spoilers for aot, the female character has a name but her appearance is never described, Jean’s pov mainly.

Summary: Jean never believed in love at first sight, it wasn’t until she appeared on his life

Notes: This is a story that has been on my drafts for over a year now, and I decided to finish it as a goodbye to one of my favorite characters, Jean Kirstein.

Materialist

Months passed by and no info about Eren was found. It was like he disappeared completely. While they searched for him they also investigated Marley and the world, that was the mission they had until some news from Eren came.

As usual Jean woke up early in the morning, he went to the kitchen of the apartment he was staying in, none of the group were staying in the same place but they were close to each other just in case. He prepared himself the usual breakfast and once he was done, he went to buy the newspaper. It was something he always did, that way he could recollect information for the group. He walked down the streets of the city, it was early in the morning so there weren't a lot of people around, just the ones on their way to their work.

He arrived at the store where he always bought the newspaper. He smiled at the owner and paid for it. He starts walking to a nearby coffee shop, so he can get coffee while reading the newspaper. That’s until he bumps into a girl, way smaller than her, and she falls to the floor. Jean looks at her and tries to help her stand but, she is faster, and pulls Jean to her and stamps her lips against his.

Jean doesn’t move and his eyes are wide open. He hears some people running behind them, searching for someone. That’s when the girl separates from him and looks around. Once she makes sure no one is around, she tries to run away once again.

“Hey!” Jean stops her. She tries to free her but Jean is way stronger. “Hey! Stop!”

And she stopped. “What?” She said with an angry look, looking at Jean.

“What? You just bumped into me and then kissed me. And now you want to leave without any explanations?” He said looking at her and crossing his arms.

“Yes, any problem big boy?” Jean smirked, she really is something.

“Those people… were searching for you?” He said pointing to the direction where they went.

She looked in that direction. “Why do you care?”

“Well… maybe I can help you.”

“You already did that.” She said and tried to leave but Jean grabbed her once again. “You don’t know me… so why do you care so much?”

“Because… maybe I don’t know your situation but you seem desperate and maybe I can help you.”

She laughed. “If you knew what I am you wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be touching me or you wouldn’t even want to breathe the same air as me.”

Jean didn’t respond this time, something clicks in his head. Could she be a eldian too? So those people probably knew about her being an eldian and were trying to catch her and who knows what to do to her. This makes his blood boil, why it’s the outside world like this with them? He comes back to his senses, just to find that she is gone.

“Damn it!” He started ñ walking trying to find her but she is gone. Just like she appeared, she is gone.

Frustrated, he started walking back home. He really hoped the girl would be okay.

“Jean!” He heard his name being shouted by no other than the two most scandalous people on earth.

“You two really can’t keep a low profile, don’t you?”

Both made a sad face. “C’mon Jean boy, don’t be mad.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Now who is making a scene?” Asks Sasha laughing.

Jean lets out a sigh and keeps walking, followed by Connie and Sasha who are talking about going to the cinema, since finding out about it the whole group has been fascinated with it. The three of them arrived at the place where they usually met to talk about the things that they learned. The rest were already there, so they all sit around the table to talk. The reunion ends up with not much info or new clues.

“You seemed distracted.” Armin said. “You didn’t say a word during the whole time. What’s on your head Jean?”

“It’s nothing Armin, I was just tired.”

“You went out last night again? You know that if captain…”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Hey man. You know that if something is going on, you can talk. Right?”Jean nods and drinks from his coffee cup.

“Jean, are you coming to the cinema tonight?” Asked Connie.

“Yeah… sure why not?”

“Brats remember to be careful.” Captain Levi spoke looking at the group.

The whole group nodded after hearing their captain's order. It was early to go to the cinema, so they decided to hang out and enjoy their time together, pretending to be normal and not soldiers from the devils of the island. The five of them were on a bar drinking and enjoying the day. It really seemed like nothing changed, like they were still in their cadets day. Like all their commanders were still alive. It was nice, it was warm to see them happy, that’s what Jean was thinking while looking at his friends.

“Oi Jean!!” Screamed Connie into his ear.

“Are you dumb or something?!”

“I have been calling for you for the last 5 minutes.” Jean rolled his eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Ask for another round!” He said, raising his glass.

“Connie, if you keep drinking you want to be alright to watch the film.” Spoke Armin this time.

“C’mon Armin! We are young! Let’s enjoy ourselves! Right girls?” He said looking at Mikasa and Sasha, who until a few moments ago they were talking with each other.

“Yes, let's go, Armin!” Sasha screamed this time and Mikasa laughed at her friend's reactions.

Armin sighted, knowing it was a lost battle. “Alright, let’s have another round. Jean could…”

“Sure, I will buy another round.” He said standing and going to ask for another round. “The same as…”

“Disgusting eldian!” A man shouted, the whole group froze in place. “I’m calling the police! They have been searching for you right?”

Jean turned around to look at the place where everything was happening. There she was, the girl from the morning.

“Is she one of the devils?” A woman asked.

“Yes, this morning police were chasing her, and now she was trying to buy something here at my shop, pretending to be one of us!”

People started surrounding her and calling her disgusting names. Jean clenched his fists and tried to go to her.

“Jean… what are you doing?” Said Armin while holding him by the arm.

“We can’t leave her, she needs help!

“We can’t. If we do something they will suspect us.” Sasha spoke this time.

“I can’t do that! Sorry…” He said ignoring his friends.

He was being selfish, he was putting all his friends in danger and for what? For a girl that he met that same morning. What was he thinking? I must be going crazy. He pushed some people aside, to get where she was.

“You think a garbage like you, can keep escaping?! Oh no! You will go back to where you belong! Stupid slut!” The man said, grabbing her by the hair.

“Please… stop…” She said with hot tears rolling down her face.

“No you beg for mer…” Jean didn’t really think before punching the man in the face.

People gasped in shock and the face of his friends went completely blank.

“You…” The man said. “Who do you think you are?”

“I hope you can run. Because we are leaving right now.” Jean whispered to the girl, who stood next to Jean.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Why are you defending that evil?” The man shouted. ”Don’t tell me… you are also one of them?”

Jean grabbed her hand tightly, she looked at him. “Now!”

And both started running, as fast they could, ignoring anyone that shouted for them to stop. They kept running for a little while more, until it was safe no one was following them. Jean stopped and tried to catch his air again. He looked at her and saw her down on her knees facing the floor. She looked so small, fragile, different to that same morning.

“Hey.” Jean kneeled in front of her. “You okay?”

No response came from her, she didn’t even look at him. Jean sighted and stood back, looking around once again, making sure no one was near.

“We need to…”

“Why did you help me?” Her voice came out, almost as a whisper. “Now,…. Now you’ll be in danger because you helped me.”

“Because I wanted to.” Jean said, looking at her.

“Because you wanted to?” She stood facing him. “Are you completely insane?!”

“Maybe I am but what I did, it’s my problem.” He got closer to her. “Now, come with me. We need to treat those wounds you have.” He said touching her cheek where there was a wound.

“I can treat myself.” She said, moving away from his touch. “You don’t have to do anything more for me.” Jean rolled his eyes.

“You know what?” He said, focusing his eyes on her once again. “I don’t care, you are coming with me, I’m treating that wound of yours, then you will take a shower and eat something. You get it?”

“But… you’re so stubborn.” She said pressing her lips together, making a thin line. “What if you’re a pervert?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not?”

“No.”

“Then you will have to trust me. I won’t do anything to you, I just want you to be okay. That’s all.”

“You don’t even know my name. Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Then he looked at the left. “He would have done the same.” His words came out as whispered, difficult to hear but she did hear them.

She remained silent, looking now at his back. Why is he really helping me? She wondered.

She ended up accepting, because it really seems like he is worried and wants to help her. They both walk side by side, going through the less crowded streets to avoid suspicious people. None of them says anything, he just keeps walking, being followed by her. They both walked for a few more minutes until they arrived at the building where they entered. He must live here.

“You can make yourself comfortable.” He says letting her enter the place.

She nods and enters, the place feels comfortable and warm.

“I will go for the things to treat your cheek… you can take whatever you want from the kitchen.” He says pointing to the kitchen.

“Thank you…” She said and before he leaves she warns him. “And don’t forget, I won’t hesitate on killing you if you try something.”

He laughs and leaves the room. That girl…

“Captain Levi is going to kill me after he finds out what I did.” He spoke to himself while searching for the stuff. “Fuck, I really fucked up this time.” He sighed and grabs the kit from the shelves.

Jean made his way back to the living room and there she is, sleeping.

“I can’t believe her.” He whispered with a smile on his face. “You really fall asleep in a strangers place?” He sayid knowing no one will answer him.

He gets closer to her and looks at her face. She looks so peaceful like that. He shook those thoughts out of it.

“Hey stubborn girl.” He shook her.

She woke up startled and ready to punch him on the face. If it wasn’t because Jean had fast reflexes, he would’ve probably ended up with a purple eye.

“Hey! Easy.” Jean said, still holding her hand.

“Shit.” She said and took her away from Jean’s. “I fell asleep… fuck.” She whispered.

“It’s okay. You looked tired anyways.” Jean tried to calm her down.

“It’s not okay… I was reckless and I shouldn’t get so comfortable with someone I don’t know.”

“My name is Jean.”

“Why are you telling me your name?”

“You said you didn’t know me, well I’m introducing myself.” He gave her a faint smile.

“Still… you could…”

“I could what? Listen, I’m not going to give you in alright?”

“I… I can not believe that, you marleians, you lie so easily. You probably made a call when I fell asleep and the police are already coming for me.” She stood and started walking around the room.

Jean could see how her body was shaking from fear of the possible outcomes. He knew that telling her his real identity was risky, hell it was so fucking risky but he needed to tell her. Jean stood from the sofa and took her by the arm, making her stop walking. The stubborn, angry, defensive girl was nowhere to be seen at that moment, everything Jean could see right there was a scary, vulnerable girl.

“Please… I know I was rude and an asshole. But let me go… I… I need to go back home, please.” She started to silently cry. “I swear I will never come back, you will never see me again. I swear but please let me go.”

“Hey please calm down.” Jean tried to comfort her. “I’m not turning you in. I am… I am also an Eldian okay?”

She looked at him, shocked. What was he saying? No no no no if he was an eldian too, it meant he was also risking his life? Why? Why?

“Hey.” Jean spoke again. “Stop overthinking.”

“Why would you do what you did, you idiot?” She said and punched him on the chest.

“Here she is again.”

“Don’t laugh, why are you laughing idiot. You’re fucking risking your life for a stranger like me. I don’t understand, I truly don’t. Is it because I kissed you? You’re one of those perverts? But fuck… if they find out not only you are helping me but that you are also an Eldian, they will kill you and all because of me… Again, it’s happening again.”

Jean saw how something broke on her after the last sentence. She fell to the floor, crying and repeating, it’s happened again, again. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to make her feel safe, to make her understand that nothing was going to happen to her or him, that whatever she was thinking was not going to happen. He kneeled in front of her and embraced her, she tensed at first but then she continued sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Jean heard her whisper.

“Listen, angry girl. Nothing is going to happen to me or to you. I promise.”

“Don’t do that…” She said. “Don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep. Please.” She looked at him, still with tears rolling down her face.

“I will try my best to keep the promise…” He said, whipping her tears away. “Now, let me treat your wound.”

She nodded and sat next to Jean on the sofa. Jean put the kit on the table and took out the necessary stuff he needed to treat her wound. He had treated thousands of wounds since he joined the survey corps years ago, he knew how to do it but this time was afraid of hurting her. The wound wasn’t really that big but still he didn’t want her to suffer anymore. Once he was done he put everything back on the bag and turned around to look at her once again. Her eyes were still red and so was her nose.

“You want to eat something?”

“No. I really need to leave and go back home.” She said not looking at Jean.

“It’s already dark outside, it will be dangerous if someone sees you alone at night.”

“It’s… it’s okay, it wouldn’t be the first time I sneak out in the middle of the night.”

Jean thought for a moment. “I will go with you.”

“Wait… no no, you already did enough.” She stood following Jean’s footsteps. “You saved my ass twice today and you’re an Eldian too, it would be dangerous if a police stopped us and they asked us for our documents. We would be…”

“Hey.” He turned around and looked at her eyes. “Trust me okay? It will be alright, I will take you home, safe and sound.”

She stayed silent, observing each one of his movements and trying to understand why that man, named Jean and an Eldian like her, was helping her. No Eldian is willing to help another one if it means risking the little freedom they have and yet, the man she had in front of her was risking everything for her, someone who was an asshole that treated him poorly since the first minutes their destinies crossed paths.

“For more that I try to understand, I just can’t comprehend why are you doing all this.”

“Maybe you enchanted me with that kiss.” Jean passed next to her with a smirk on his face.

“Now you’re flirting? Is that what you want from me? To fuck me?” She angrily asked.

“Wait no no no no.” Jean shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong okay? It’s true that I couldn’t get the kiss out of my head, because it took me by surprise but I’m not doing this because I want to fuck you. I’m doing this because I think you desperately need someone to give you a hand. I’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay… sorry it’s just that… it’s not easy.”

“To trust someone?”

“Yeah…”

“I understand but try to trust me okay.” She nodded, still hesitant but with a feeling in her chest that made her believe his words. “Okay, put this on, it will be cold outside and like that we can cover you up, so those assholes don’t recognize you.” He grabbed the jacket and gave it to her, it smelled like him. “It looks gigant on you.”

“Maybe because you’re like two meters tall?” She said looking at the jacket and then at him.

“Almost two meters.” She rolled her eyes and tried to hide the smile on her face.

“Idiot…”

“You know, you can call me by my name, Jean. And by the way, you still haven't told me yours.”

“That’s right but I’m not telling you. Not yet.”

“And what should I call you then?” He tilted his head.

She was about to respond when a knock on the door made her freeze. She could feel her whole body trembling. Did he lie to you? It was the police, he called them?

“Look at me.” And she did, those honey eyes were looking at her and for some reason she knew right there, that he didn’t call them, that he didn’t lie and that she could believe him. “It’s probably my neighbor, so don’t worry, okay?” She nodded and watched him walk to the door.

She saw how he smiled to the person on the other side of the door and how politely talked to them.

“Jean, I heard a woman's voice earlier, are you finally settling down?” Jean laughed, he wished he could but in his position it was impossible.

“It’s not like that Miss Aldrich.”

“C’mon! Let me meet the girl.” Jean tried to stop her.

“Miss Aldrich I don’t think that’s a good idea, she…” C’mon Jean think about something.

“Oh I get it, yeah you two were having fun, alright Jean boy, I will leave you. Hopefully this old building will soon have new people.” And she left.

Jean sighed in relief, he loved Miss Aldrich and was a good woman but he couldn’t risk anything at that moment.

“Bee.” Jean heard from the other side of the room.

“What?”

“Call me Bee.”

Jean nodded at Bee and she gave him a faint smile. Bee didn’t know why she was willing to tell him her name but something inside her told her to do it, that it was okay.

“Okay, Bee. We should get going, so you can go back home.” Bee looked at him, he was offering his hand. “It will be easier if we pretend that we are a couple, if they stop us I will just show my ID.”

“But you…” She wanted to tell him if he was insane, if he lost his mind. But Jean winked an eye at her, making her heart race.

“I have a fake one, don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay…”

Bee held his hand and they both got out of the apartment. Jean held her tightly but gently, afraid of hurting her, afraid of someone taking her away. They needed to be careful, but the night was already coming so it was going to be easier for them to go unnoticed.

They walked the streets, like a normal couple would do, not making themselves notice. It wouldn’t be true to say Jean’s heart wasn’t racing like crazy, he was nervous about the possibility of getting caught and holding Bee’s hand wasn’t something that was helping. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, breathtaking to be more exact. But he couldn’t think about her that way, no, he needed to take her to her home and then hope she would be able to live a normal life, while he kept searching for Eren. That’s what was going to happen and they wouldn’t see each other anymore.

Bee moved beside Jean, guiding him in the direction of her house. From time to time she would look at him, he was serious, looking around, making sure no one would come for her and not letting her hand go. It made her feel secure, protected, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It almost made her cry in that instant.

Both of them kept walking for a little longer, leaving the most crowded streets behind, almost leaving the city behind. Bee stopped when they reached a small neighborhood, with old houses and almost no light.

“It’s here…” She said letting Jean’s hand go, feeling emptiness when she did it.

“Oh…” Jean looked around and nodded. “Alright…” he swallowed.

“I guess… it's a goodbye.”

“I guess so.” Jean played with his feet. “Are you sure you will be alright?” He looked at her with worried eyes.

Bee swallowed and blinked, trying not to throw herself to him and cry saying that nothing would be alright, that she was afraid and ask him again why everyone viewed them as monsters, why couldn’t see feel safe like she did with him. But she didn’t and she simply smiled at him.

“I will be. Thank you again.”

Jean nodded and they both stayed looking at each. Jean knew he should turn around and walk away, forget about her, forget about that whole day, go back to his life but something wasn’t letting him move, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to move away.

“I think… I will be heading home.” She whispered and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Jean held her hand and made her turn around. “If you… if you ever need anything, just look out for me okay?” She nodded. “Jean Kirstein.”

“I will Jean. Thank you…”

And with that, they both walked away, with a heavy heart and the feeling of a missing piece on it. They met for less than 24 hours but none of them wanted to leave each other. Bee for a moment considered going back to him, asking him to take her away from that place, for them to pretend they were monsters but she couldn’t do that to someone she hardly knew but desperately wanted to know. Jean on the other hand, would have everything for her, for a girl that cornered him, the girl that was so stubborn, the girl that despite looking so strong was so broken, if she only asked to.

But they didn’t say anything and they both saw each other for the last time that night. Bee kept surviving and trying not to get caught, while Jean kept searching for Eren and distracting himself so he wouldn’t think about her.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

It was April, Jean’s birthday, thinking about it he never thought he would make it to his 20s after joining the survey corps. But there he was in a small bar near the refugee camp with Connie, drinking beer and chatting. After the Rumbling and everything falling apart live has been going too fast, it seemed like they couldn’t stop for a single moment, the attack on Liberio, then the rumbling, then helping those who were still alive, try to find peace. Hell they didn’t even properly mourn Sasha, Hange or even Eren, like they deserved, back then. He didn’t even have time to try and reach his mom and let her know that he was alright. He even thought about Bee, did she make it through the rumbling? Was she saved?

Although he met her for less than 24 hours, her memory was still on his head and he wished he could see her once again, at least to know she was okay.

He turned around to look at Connie, who was heavily drunk and dancing, although there was no music on. Jean smirked, he was grateful he had Connie with him and to have these stupid moments with him.

“C’mon Connie, let’s go home.” Jean stood and held Connie’s arm.

“Why? C’mon Jeanboy! It’s your birthday! You are entering your 20s, let’s celebrate it!” Connie went to the dance floor once again, ignoring Jean and forgetting about everything.

Jean sat back on his seat and sighed looking at his best friend. It was good that at least Connie was enjoying himself, but it was going to be a pain in the ass bringing him back home.

He simply stayed there, looking at his best friend, while with each drink he wandered in his thoughts. Two hours later they were kicked out of the place. Jean didn't think he was completely drunk, but his head hurt and he knew that tomorrow would be a hard day. He grabbed Connie's arm and dragged him to the place they now called home.

“You seemed to need help.” A female voice spoke, while Jean was trying to open the door.

“It’s okay, I can do it.” Jean responded without looking at the woman standing next to him.

“Let me help you.” She said and took Jean’s keys from his hands. “I own you one.” She whispered.

Jean blinked, trying to focus his gaze on the woman but he couldn't, everything was double for him.

“I don’t think… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay Jean… hopefully tomorrow you will feel better.” Jean saw how she started to walk away. “I’m glad you’re alive Jean.”

And with that the woman went away, leaving Jean confused and with Connie already sleeping on the floor. He moved him and started walking to their dorms, kicking Connie into his dorm and letting him fall on the couch. He covered his face with his arms, trying to make the headache stop but it was useless. He once again tried to think about the woman, tried to remember her face, but it was impossible, his vision had been too blurry, but something in her voice had seemed familiar. Jean finally fell asleep on the couch and it wasn't until the next morning that he woke up due to Armin waking him up.

“You should try and sleep on your own bed.” Was the first thing Armin had told him.

“Mhmm… I know mom.” Jean grunted, scratching the back of his neck. “Fuck my head hurts.”

“No wonder why, you and Connie had some fun last night.” He said, giving him a cup of water.

“Not every day you turn 20 you know?” Jean drank from the cup.

“A woman asked me about you.” Armin walked to the kitchen.

Jean blinked and stood up, following him. “A woman?”

“Yeah… she asked me about you this morning.”

“She told you her name or something?”

“No, just asked me if I knew you.” Armin shrugged. “Did you hook up with a woman? Jean we are on diplomatic…”

“Wait what? No. No I haven’t hooked up with…”

“Jean hooked up with someone?” Connie appeared in the kitchen.

“Connie… you were literally sticking your tongue inside on everyone’s mouth last night.”

“Hey! Don’t expose me like that bro.” Connie cried.

Jean rolled his eyes. “Where did you see her?” Said looking back at Armin.

“On the market, she was shopping.”

Jean nodded and without a word he left, he started walking across the streets, looking for the girl he met in Liberio. It had to be her, it had to be Bee, she survived and she was there, looking for him. Jean kept walking, looking everywhere, but who assured him that Bee would still be in that market? He reached the end of the market without any success, sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. He turned around and started walking in the direction of his house. Maybe today was not the day he was supposed to run into Bee, but they were both in that place so at some point they would meet.

“Hey big boy!” Jean stopped walking. “Are you sober already?”

Jean turned around and there she was. “Bee…” His feet started to move on their own and when he realized he was embracing Bee in his arms.

“Wow big boy, careful. You are much bigger than me.” She laughed.

“I’m sorry… I’m.” He broke the hug and looked at her. She was still beautiful. “You’re alive.”

“I am and so are you.” She smiled. “I heard you are some kind of hero.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. But… Bee I’m so glad to see you are okay. I…”

“Me too. I saw you a few weeks ago and felt so relieved, strange isn’t it? We met for less than 24 hours and only knew each other's names but somehow, I couldn’t keep you out of my mind and when the whole rumbling happened, I prayed to meet you again… Oh god, you must think I’m crazy or something.”

“No, no, I mean, I kinda felt the same and… maybe now we could get to know each other better. Grab some coffee or tea or whatever you want, I don’t mind. And only if you want of course.”

“Jean, are you flirting?” She raised an eyebrow without hiding her smile.

“I mean… maybe? Would you be bothered if I did?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Coffee sounds good.”

“Good. Should we go now or are you busy?”

“Now it’s alright.” She started walking.

They both started walking side by side, slowly and enjoying the sun of the day and each other’s company and presence. Jean was beyond excited and happy, to know she was okay and that she seemed happy, despite the whole world went to shit. He didn’t regret hugging her right after seeing her for the first time, he really needed to do it and it just felt right.

He never believed in those stories of someone falling in love with another one at first sight, he used to think it was unreal and stupid. That was until that day in Liberio, after weeks passed by he tried convincing himself that his stupid self only felt like that because Bee stole his first kiss, but as much as he wanted to believe it was because of the kiss that she was still on his head, he couldn’t. He really fell for her just by seeing her and spending some hours with her.

“Is this place okay for you?” She pointed.

“Yeah… it’s okay.” He nodded.

And they both sat on one of the tables of the coffee shop, Each one ordered something to drink and waited in silence until it was brought to them. Bee watched through the window at the people passing by, from one side to the other, while Jean looked at her profile and admired her beauty. He was thankful that none of her friends were around her, otherwise she knew she would have them making fun of her for days.

“So… how, how did you get out?” Bee turned to look at Jean after hearing his voice. “I mean, away from the rumbling.”

“Oh… it wasn’t easy but after that weird message, something inside of me told me we had to get the hell out of there. So we took the last train that was leaving, most people weren’t eldians so they had no clue what was going on, so it was easy to sneak into one of them. After that, when the… the titans started to show up, I prayed to be safe and we were saved. A couple of weeks later we ended up here and that’s it.”

“You said we, you weren't alone?”

“No, my nephew was with me.” She drank her coffee. “It’s just me and her now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, if it wasn’t because you saved me that day from those people I wouldn’t have been able to go back home to her.” She smiled.

“It was nothing, really.” He shook his head. “I’m glad, both of you are okay. I need to know something, why did you risk yourself back then?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you kissed me to get away from those policemen.”

“Oh that.” She looked down and smiled. “Something told me it had to be you. I guess it was right after all.”

Bee and Jean continued talking for hours, about everyday things, Jean told her about Paradise and Bee told her about her niece, her sister. Even when Bee had to leave to look for her niece, Jean accompanied her and continued listening to each of her stories carefully, without missing any detail of what Bee told her. Upon arriving at the school where Bee's niece was, Jean stood in front of her and took a breath.

“Would you go out with me?” Jean slowly spoke, meeting her gaze. “As a date, I mean.”

Bee's heart skipped a beat and she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. His honey gaze made her nervous and those words were making her even more nervous. With Jean she had felt security, protection and tranquility, but she knew there had been something more and her heart beat for it, she had liked him a lot. Very much. But the thought of never even seeing him again or anything happening between them had long since disappeared. Until a week ago she saw him again and her heart raced again like that time in her apartment. Bee licked her lips and looked first at her worn shoes and then at Jean's gaze. Maybe this was the destiny telling her that finally she was going to be happy.

“I would love to.” She smiled and so did Jean.

#jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein angst #jean x you #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein x oc #jean kirstein x you

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invisibleicewands · 3 months ago

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Michael Sheen Reveals Why He Would Never Want to Be a Member of the Royal Family (Exclusive)

When preparing to portray Prince Andrew in Prime Video’s A Very Royal Scandal, actor Michael Sheen found one particular quirk in the royal’s mannerisms that stood out during his research.

A Very Royal Scandal, which explores the events leading up to and following the infamous 2019 BBC Newsnight interview with Emily Maitlis that effectively ended Prince Andrew’s royal career, is not Michael Sheen’s first time portraying a real-life figure. Known for his role as journalist David Frost in 2008’s Frost/Nixon, Sheen has also twice played former U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair — in 2010’s The Special Relationship and 2006’s The Queen, which focused on Andrew’s mother, Queen Elizabeth. However, when it came to embodying Prince Andrew for Amazon’s three-part series, it was the Duke's distinctive laugh that stood out to Sheen.

“In the research, when I’m looking at all the footage and interviews, I’m waiting for something to kind of jump up and grab me,” Sheen tells PEOPLE ahead of the show’s Sept. 19 release. “In every character that I’ve played, eventually something just kind of catches you and you go, ‘Oh.’ And sometimes it takes a little while before you realize that you’ve already found that moment and you go back to it. But there’s always something.”

That moment of revelation for Sheen came while watching an interview Prince Andrew gave "maybe 15 years ago," he recalls. In the interview, Andrew is asked whether he had any advice for Prince William, likely regarding military service. Andrew, who served in a different branch of the armed forces than William, makes a joke about the rivalry between the services. "He says, ‘I should have said you should be in the Navy,’ and then he laughs, and the laugh he does is so startling. It was sort of extraordinary. I’d never seen that before — it was an exposed moment in a way. And that really stuck with me.”

It was jarring, Sheen explains, because, “For the royal family, who are usually so controlled, trying to keep things very much under the surface, it was a moment of startling, shocking emotion — even if it was just a laugh. But there was something about it that I thought was quite telling, so that stayed with me.”

A physical feature stood out, too. “He has quite prominent teeth,” Sheen says of Prince Andrew. “He’s quite toothy. So the combination of the relish of this kind of joke that he’d made and then those teeth — it was quite shocking.”

Sheen has now played a royal, but would he want to be a royal? “Absolutely not,” he tells PEOPLE. “No. The fairytale image of it seems so extraordinary — living in palaces and having everything you want and servants and all that kind of stuff. But the reality seems to be that there are far more restrictions than there are freedoms. No amount of wealth or assets or privilege can make up for not being able to have basic sort of freedoms that a lot of us take for granted. So no, I would not want to have that life.”

Playing Prince Andrew gave Sheen not only into what it must be like to be a royal but also about the institution of the monarchy itself, he says.

“I’d always quite naively imagined that the media and the royal family were quite separate institutions,” he tells PEOPLE. “But then it became clear that there’s all these sort of negotiations that go on between them, and there’s a kind of, you know, ‘Well, if you do this, then we’ll do that. And if you give us this interview, we’ll hide this thing.’ You know, it’s a real — there are deals being done all the time between the two institutions, which I found fascinating, and I didn’t realize that. That was a big surprise.”

Sheen explains that when it comes to portraying characters, especially someone like Prince Andrew, he tries to tap into what’s going on beneath the surface.

“What makes this person tick?” Sheen says of how he prepared to play a person very much still in the headlines, even after Andrew's role as a working royal ended. “What are the things that they want? And what do they think is stopping them from getting what they want?”

He adds, “If you don’t have that, if it’s just the surface stuff and the tics and the physical things. An audience might enjoy that for a couple of minutes, but you can’t tolerate that for a three-hour series. There has to be something more substantial.”

The most obvious footage for Sheen to study as he prepared to play the royal was the gripping interview that aired nearly five years ago, where veteran journalist Emily Maitlis (played by Ruth Wilson in A Very Royal Scandal) asked Prince Andrew about the scandalous accusations he faced regarding his involvement with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein and Virginia Guiffre, who accused Andrew of having sex with her when she was 17 years old. But the Newsnight footage wasn’t the only clip Sheen combed through — and he says he was particularly moved by footage of Prince Andrew returning from the Falklands War “and seeing the adoration that he had,” Sheen says. “He came back from the Falklands War having genuinely done acts of courage. I mean, he was right in the thick of it. You’d think a royal would be kept away from danger, but he was right in the thick of it.”

Sheen says that “he comes back and there’s that footage of him dockside when he comes off the boat. And there are thousands upon thousands of people just cheering and shouting, and he looks so attractive and sexy and, you know, handsome. And he’s there in his uniform and he’s the most eligible bachelor, and he’s a prince. It’s like the absolute height of everything. And to think about how since that moment, his life could be perceived as being a sort of downward trajectory where he gets older, he puts on weight, he loses his looks a bit. He gets further and further away from the center of power of being what’s known as the ‘spare.’ The brother who’s never going to be king. As [King] Charles has children and he gets further and further away, and all those things that must have given him a sense of his worth and value and pride, all those things ebb away. So it was that footage of him coming back [that] had a huge impact on me.”

Reflecting on what he learned about the Duke of York, Sheen says, “I was very surprised by, for someone who, despite being perceived as having such privilege, entitlement and what you would imagine is great wealth, seemed, at least from the outside, to be someone who felt like they were being denied so much. Part of the draw towards Epstein was not only that there was some financial help there. That a prince could be in money trouble seemed extraordinary. Someone who you think is going to be incredibly wealthy seemed to have money troubles and also seemed to be drawn to a community where he would be treated like a prince. [He] didn’t feel like he was being treated like a prince in his own country somehow. That I found extraordinary. And quite surprising that someone who appears to have so much could experience their life as having relatively little.”

Soon after the Newsnight interview aired, Prince Andrew announced he was stepping back from public duties, and in January 2022, Queen Elizabeth stripped him of his military titles and patronages amid Guiffre’s civil sexual assault lawsuit that has since been settled. Prince Andrew has repeatedly denied any wrongdoing.

When it comes to Sheen and the royal family, the actor took a decisive step away from the institution in his own life: in 2017, eight years after receiving a Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (OBE) for services to drama from Queen Elizabeth in 2009, the Welsh actor quietly handed back the award after looking into the history of the relationship between England and Wales for the 2017 Raymond Williams Society lecture, PEOPLE previously reported.

“By the time I had finished writing that lecture…I remember sitting there going, ‘Well, I have a choice — I either don’t give this lecture and hold on to by OBE, or I give this lecture and I have to give my OBE back,’” Sheen said in a conversation with The Guardian columnist Owen Jones.

Despite feeling “incredibly honored” at receiving the award, Sheen expressed discomfort with practices such as handing the Prince of Wales title to an English-born heir to the throne — a tradition started in 1301 when King Edward I gave his son the title of Prince of Wales to subdue a Welsh rebellion. “These things have power,” Sheen said.

In 2017, when Sheen returned the award, King Charles was still Prince of Wales; in 2022, following the death of Queen Elizabeth, the title passed to his eldest son, Prince William, who holds it today.

#Michael Sheen #Interview #A Very Royal Scandal #Movie #Prince Andrew #so basically Prince Andrew just had a middle aged crisis #something he knows on his skin

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ftwdb · 1 year ago

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Don't Say Go.

Chapter 11.

Summary: Soulmates find each other through what is known as The Pull. A sense within a persons body that their soulmate is within reach that guides them to find them. You find yourself following this Pull, guided by vague dreams of a man you can't quite see, until you collapse in the wild and are found by Troy, your soulmate, who has been following the same feeling toward you for days.

Once connected soulmates are able to share emotions through their bond, as well as being able to sense where the other is. But how this force works is very much a mystery still, it can vary from soulmate to soulmate, and just sometimes a connection too deep can lead twist a bond from something beautiful to, well...

Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content, violence, non-graphic description/implications of SA, child abuse and domestic violence. References to addiction. Unhealthy love/obsession/relationships. Soulmate AU. Eventual smut.

You were still waiting in the bunkhouse after the sun had set. You knew dinner would have been served by now, peering through your window you could see the shapes of the ranchers moving about and getting ready to wind down for the day.

You paced. Unlocked the door and then locked it again. Gave it one more moment of thought then slid the bolt open and stepped outside.

The night air was cool, refreshingly so, but you wished you'd thought to pull on an extra layer. For a moment you looked around, expecting to see Troy coming toward you at any moment. You were left disappointed.

As your stomach began to growl your patience wore thin. Closing your eyes you reached for the feeling in your chest that seemed to know just where Troy was. With a tug it pulled you toward the direction of the main house. You frowned. Troy had said he would collect you from the bunkhouse but it wouldn't be long until there would be nothing but scraps left. With a huff you set your feet toward the canteen, trying not to overthink his lateness. He'd been on patrol all day, had saved a man's life from what you had gathered by the sorry looking figure they'd pulled from the truck. You couldn't really be angry at him for needing time to rest.

Trying to brighten your thoughts you decided to collect two trays of food and take dinner to him instead. You ignored the looks you received as you approached the remaining ranchers who were finishing their meals at the tables outside the canopy. You pretended you could't hear the whispers. Instead you caught the eye of Gretchen Trimbol, and even though you'd been overwhelmed by her non-stop chatter the first time you'd met, she'd seemed nice enough. She certainly didn't treat you with resentment or suspicion, or like a zoo animal to be ogled, like some of the others. She beamed as you approached, trying to return her enthusiasm with a polite smile.

"Well look who it is!" she declared, loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who had so far not noticed your presence.

You smiled through your teeth, "Just me..."

Gretchen shook off your faux shyness and started to pile food onto a plate. "Don't be silly, I was wondering where'd you'd gotten to! I've been meaning to stop by for a visit but Troy's forbidden anyone to bother you so... oh, that reminds me, is it true?"

You looked at her blankly.

"About you. And Troy?" she leaned toward you as if sharing in a conspiracy. "That you're soulmates?"

For some reason you blushed. Why was it such a topic of interest to the ranchers? Soulmates were hardly a something that usually became the subject of fascination, unless some scandal were involved.

Wait. Was there scandal?

"Why do you ask?" you tried to say nonchalantly, your mind racing with possibilities.

Gretchen's eyes widened as she took your reply as confirmation.

"Oh no reason. It's just so wild that anyone could still hope to find their perfect match in all of... this." She gestured randomly around her, her serving spoon flicking some remaining mashed potato to the grass.

"Oops," she grimaced.

You picked up your plate and were about to ask for a second to take to said soulmate as you caught Gretchen's next words muttered quietly.

"...and that it's Troy..."

You froze, confused. Why would it be so unusual for a particular person to find their soulmate? It could happen to anyone, at anytime.

You were unable to ask exactly what she meant by her words when you sensed a figure behind you. Or rather, smelled them. You turned to see Jeremiah Otto peering down his nose at you, wobbling slightly on his feet as the scent of alcohol filled your nostrils. Gretchen muttered some excuse about needing to tend the kitchen as she retreated, leaving you stuck between Otto and the serving table. You grasped your plate of food defensively as his eyes roamed from your face to the quickly cooling plate of vegetables and meat.

"Got your fill?" he said unkindly.

You regarded him with a wary eye. From your short meeting and the clues you'd picked up on when speaking to Jake and Troy you knew Jeremiah was someone who would not tolerate a bad attitude.

It was so hard to keep a courteous tongue in your mouth.

"I was taking a serving to Troy," you said plainly, leaving out the fact that his son had stood you up for your first date.

Jeremiah snorted, "Troy is asleep, snoring like a boar in his room."

You felt your cheeks warming.

"Then he will be hungry when he wakes up."

You tried to move past him, but Otto moved with surprsing swiftness considering the intoxication that had made his eyes glaze over.

"He tells me you're ready to be put to work. Are you?"

You clenched your jaw and tried not to spit out your reply, resenting the fact that he made you sound like a working dog or one of his horses.

"I am."

Jeremiah nodded.

"Then we have a guest in the medical tent whom Jake has volunteered you to take care of."

You frowned. That didn't seem like something Jake would do.

"You can start by taking him something to eat for when he wakes."

You tried to keep your expression under control. He was messing with you, perhaps just trying to keep you from spending time with his son. Maybe even sending you on an errand simply to waste your time. Who knew what motivated bitter old men.

Your smile was empty as you nodded, finally being allowed to sidestep the old man you tried not to make it look like you were running from the eyes that had been watching you as you made your way toward the medical tent.

You caught the sympathetic look Gretchen threw you but chose to ignore her.

You grumbled to yourself as you made your way, deciding to help yourself to a spoonful of potatoes as you walked. It was unlikely the newcomer was fit to eat much, he wouldn't miss one mouthful of the buttery delight that was Gretchen's mother's famous mashed potatoes.

You nodded at one of the uniformed men standing guard as he frowned at you in confusion.

"Otto's orders," you shrugged as you gestured at the plate in your hands. He nodded his consent for you to enter and you pushed aside the flap of the tent and made your way inside. It was empty except for the man lying unnervingly still.

You set down the food on a side table and carefully approached, staring at his chest as you confirmed that he was indeed still breathing. You sighed your own breath of relief. You'd put down the dead before, when running had been no option, but the feel and sound of a knife sliding through the flesh of an ear or eyeball still revolted you. You were glad there would be no need tonight.

There was an IV hooked into his arm. Fresh bandages obscured most of his face as you took in the mess he was in. You took a step closer as you wondered if this was how you had looked, lying half-dead and unrecognisable under the dirt and blood of the wilderness.

A voice behind you made you start.

The man who had been on guard was peering at you through the flap in the tent, "You mind sticking around while I grab something to eat myself? I'm starved and Mike's late for watch."

You blinked before finding yourself nodding on reflex. If you wanted to be welcomed here, to belong, you would need to be helpful. The man was unconscious, tied to the bed, and hardly a threat.

The guard disappeared from view and you wondered briefly were Mike was. Troy had told you a little about him, as had Gretchen upon your first meeting. He was her older brother and Troy's oldest friend from school. He was also the man who had frightened you in the showers at the bunkhouse on your first day and you'd had the fortune to not have to speak to him directly since. There was something about him that left you uneasy, even from a distance.

You started again when a cough caught your attention. The man was gasping, trying to turn on his side as he coughed and gagged some more. You moved quickly, realising if he was sick he would choke on his own vomit. You tried to ease him onto his side as best you could but with both his hands bound to the bed's sides he couldn't hold himself up enough to stop himself falling back against the pillows.

You looked around for something sharp. He was tied with plastic zip ties and freeing him of one so he could roll into his side and vomit onto the floor was your only option.

You grabbed up a pair of scissors that had been left beside a roll of bandages and cut him free, pushing him onto his side as bile began to pour from his mouth. You dropped the scissors and tried to reassure him as he writhed, trying to throw up on an empty stomach was painful. His skin was hot and clammy even beneath his clothes.

Eventually he stopped, rolling onto his back again as he panted for breath and tried to cough out what sounded like a thank you.

You offered to find him some water as his uncovered eye focused on your face and began to widen in recognition.

You realised now that the wounds to his face appeared to be burns, and not from sun exposure.

You both froze. Time seemed to stop as your chest pounded with fear. An icy cold swept over you as your mind saw past the bandages, past the sore pink skin that was exposed and into the eye of a face you'd thought you would never see again.

"You..." the man began to utter.

You stumbled back but he moved his loose hand to grab hold of the front of your shirt.

"You!"

You tried to pull free, panic overtaking your senses as the pounding of your heart became a beacon in your chest. You felt it pulsing, could almost feel the waves it sent out as if searching... calling for help.

You finally screamed.

The man sneered, finding the strength in your fear to pull you against him so your face was against his. He hissed into your ear.

"You... did this. You killed him... tried to... kill me."

You squeezed your eyes tight as memory overtook you.

Your parents were gone. A man and his son, barely more than a teenager really, offered to take you back to a safe place they'd found for his wife and daughter.

You weren't stupid but when he'd shown you a photograph of them together as a family you'd foolishly believed them to be no threat.

You could still hear the sound of the lock turning on the door. Your clothes being torn from your body as hands pinned you down.

Days passed. They only left you unbound because they'd believed you too weak to try and escape or fight back after being starved and brutalised over and over. They were right. You were too weak to fight, but not too weak to take the bottle of whisky they'd fallen asleep sharing and sprinkle over rags you surrounded them with. You stole what little supplies they had whilst they snored, including a set of matches.

One left. It was like a sign.

It was as you'd struck the match and stared at the flickering flame that you heard a sound. The son had woken and was looking at you in confusion, too slow in his drunken stupor to realise what was about to happen. You dropped the match on the wet rags and fled as the fire licked its way up their legs.

Their screams followed you as you ran, forcing your legs to carry you even as your body screamed to stop. From a distance you saw the smoke rising into the sky, disappearing amongst the clouds.

You set your sights east, some feeling within you whispering that that was the way to go...

"You deserved it," you snarled, anger suddenly bursting from you like the very flames that had left him scarred.

Your hand felt around for the scissors you had dropped, had stupidly used to cut him free.

You plunged them into his neck as he was about to speak again. His words came out as a wet gasp as his fingers loosened on your shirt and you stumbled back. He gazed at you in shock as his free hand clasped at the gaping wound on his neck and you realised how the only other man who'd dared try to hurt you had shared that same expression when you'd cut his throat too.

You dropped the scissors, wet and sticky with blood, as your blood thundered in your ears. You didn't wait to see the life leave the man's eyes. You turned on your heel and fled, knocking the tray of food to the floor as you burst from the tent and ran into the night.

#troy otto #fear the walking dead #ftwd #fanfiction #ftwd fanfic #fear the walking dead fanfic #ftwdfanfic #fanfic #troy otto x reader #soulmate #au #season 3 #don't say go fic

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dropthedemiurge · 11 months ago

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Hi dropthedemiurge,

I am one of your new followers who stumbled onto your blog thanks to your metas for Love for Love's Sake. Thank you so much for them, the cultural and linguistic explanations add another layer to already well crafted show and I would definitely be sorry to miss them.

Talking of cultural differences, there is a thing I noticed in several kdramas and always wanted to find its meaning and didn't know who to ask. Maybe you would know?

When characters are drinking (alcohol) together, after toasting one another, they turn sideways to drink. Is there a cultural reason or meaning to this turn? Where I am from (Europe), we just chug it facing each other, no turning away.

Thank you in advance for answering me!

Hey! You're very welcome (I am also so happy to meet so many new people who are interested in discussing shows and Korean language/culture after Love for Love's Sake), and yes, I absolutely do know what you're talking about!!

Turning away after toasting to drink is truly a cultural thing! It has a lot to do with social & age hierarchy that is very crucial to Korean culture (or tbh, to many Asian countries). At the table you follow some specific rules, for example:

the youngest participant is usually setting the table, grilling the meat and pouring everyone's drinks

if you're drinking with someone older/higher than you, you turn away to drink (which is what you asked about, only the younger ones do it! out of politeness!)

to be polite, you hold the glass/bottle with two hands (or one hand supports your other arm); this is also very typical in grocery stores or anywhere where you need to give someone your bank card/cash/etc

the oldest one usually says toasts (like, the final one, but it depends on the gathering tbh)

Koreans also have a fascinating culture for company drinking and drinking games, I'll just show you a good video that talks about all these cultural differences during drinking, I think you'll find this video interesting! (the drinking starts in the second half of the video)

youtube

If you haven't watched Korean Englishman videos, I highly recommend you to! They are really great for showing all those interesting details (and they are also from Europe so you might feel relatable with their reactions :D)

And I'll just post screenshots with some of the rules that they pointed out if you don't have time to watch the video:

Tbh, if you're a foreigner and come to Korea to drink with students, like I did, no one would be scandalized or offended if you don't follow these rules but it's very interesting to exchange your drinking culture internationally and try out new things because Koreans are fascinated when you know some small things that are ingrained in their culture.

Fun fact, my drinking culture (Russian) sometimes clashes with Korean because they pour alcohol to each other mid-air and we shouldn't ever do it :D Also out of habit, I made all my Korean and foreign friends say reasons/speeches for toasts every time we drank because this is what I'm used to and they found it fun xD

Anyway, go watch the video! It's a lot of fun :] And I hope I satisfied your curiosity, now you'll watch dramas and think about this:DD

#droptheask #korean culture #korea #drinking #alcohol

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eyeforabargain · 2 years ago

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Every Diva Needs Her Autobiography!

“Come on in, angelfish! Come closer! It’s time you learned the full story of how such a fabulous woman came to be! Now, let’s see here... I grew up on the outskirts of Atlantica, the low rent district if you catch my drift. My mother... Now how shall I put this? She was a severe woman. In every meaning of the word. She had expectations and rules and you followed them. If you didn't, well... you just did with her. Actually, now that I think about it, Maleficent reminds me of her, and I'm not sure how I never noticed that.

"It was only the three of us back then: me, her, and my little skank of a sister, Morgana. Pretty sure mommy dearest turned daddy into a shrimp and gobbled him up when we were little. Anyway, we were always poor like the other Octopins, living like worms whilst the merpeople of Atlantica sang and danced all day. Oh how it disgusted my mother how much the Atlanticans hoarded for themselves. She pushed us so hard to be powerful enough to take everything that Atlantica had for ourselves. I rose to the challenge; Morgana never did.

“Morgana hated me when we were little. And I know what you’re thinking, but this time, I actually didn't do anything to her... aside from being our mother's favorite daughter. It's hardly my fault that mommy loved me and not her. I earned that love fair and square, just like I’ve earned everything that’s come my way. If this world was a meritocracy, I’d be ruling it by now! Magic, however, wasn’t my only talent either. I always loved being the center of attention, and I knew how to command a room. It’s only natural that I found my way to the theater!

“Back in the day, there was a traveling theater company, the Deepwater Dramaturgy. They were the best of the best, so of course I had to audition and get my chance to perform on stage with them! Let’s see... I played the evil stepsister in Ashpuddle. I originally wanted to be Ashpuddle herself, but I quickly found that villains were more fun to play! Oh! I did Sir John Faltrident in Merry Wives of the Wadden Sea, and then the Nurse in The Shipwrecked Lovers! Now that's a fascinating role! I've often contemplated having a séance to talk to the actress who originated that part from beyond her watery grave, because I have lots and lots of questions for her. HA!

“I have so many fond memories of the theater, but perhaps most importantly, it opened the doors to the palace for me. You see, King Triton had just lost his wife, and he had a castle full of little mergirls to entertain. So, he invited the Deepwater Dramaturgy to perform in the palace and keep the mood cheerful after the recent time of mourning. Well he took one look at my big beautiful self on stage, and he was absolutely transfixed! A little potion I slipped him helped matters along, of course, but I made sure that I was irresistible to a poor unfortunate widower.

“The two of us began our passionate scandalous love affair behind closed doors, and I had him hooked like a worm! He gave me a position at court to justify my presence in the palace, and I quickly set to work turning that ceremonial position into one of real power and influence. My mother was so proud of how far I’d climbed to get near to the top! Of course, Triton didn’t want to tell his pretty little daughters that he was seeing another woman so soon after their mother’s death, so he introduced me to them as their “Auntie Ursula.” Unfortunately, that’s where those nonsensical rumors about Triton and I being brother and sister cropped up. HA! I mean, really, we look nothing alike! Simple fools!

“That’s about the time I heard the news my mother was floating on her death bed. I think seeing her favorite daughter get within striking distance of the trident and crown put her at peace enough to move on. I know she wanted to hold on a little longer to see my victory, but it’s for the best she passed when she did. Living through my banishment would have destroyed her! This way, I got to hold her tentacles while she drew her last breath and throw her a royal funeral after. Morgana had unresolved drama there, but that’s her problem. I don’t give her much thought, you understand.

“Living it up in the palace and enjoying the fantastical feasts and exquisite art was truly the life! Sadly, all good things come to an end. I knew I had to make my move on Triton soon, so I began cultivating a magic to hypnotize him into marrying me and legitimizing me as Queen of Atlantica in the public eye. That way I could bump him off in some tragic accident and take the crown for myself. But that meddlesome loud-mouth crab Sebastian caught on to my plans, and he blabbed about it to Triton. My spell wasn’t ready yet, so what was a poor girl to do?

“Well, I figured it was time for a last ditch effort; I’d just take the trident and crown by force! When Triton came to banish me and cast me out, I attacked! We fought magic vs trident on the balconies of the palace, and though I put up a good fight, the power of the trident was too great for me to overcome. Triton defeated me, and OH the toll it took on my poor body! I could barely swim after that, but swim I did! I swam away from the palace and out of the kingdom a broken woman. Triton could have pursued and finished me off, but I suppose his weak heart kept him from doing that.

“I fled to the Kingdom of the Octopins, my mother’s homeland. They’d been fighting border skirmishes with Atlantica for years, so they welcomed me as a hero for my attack on Triton. I was too injured, too weak, and my magic was no match for the trident’s power. I knew I couldn’t face Triton again. However, during our battle, I managed to siphon off enough trident juice to forge a second trident almost as powerful as Triton’s! I gave it to the leader of the Octopins and told his army just how to slip past the Atlantican’s defenses in the Sargasso Sea. The plan was perfect! They would fight and defeat Triton and put my skinny bottom on the throne! But you know what they say about the best laid plans. The great war hero Apollo spoiled everything by shattering the trident, and that was all Triton needed to drive my army back.

“Brute force had failed me twice. I knew cunning was the only way to get what I truly wanted. I set up shop on the outskirts of Atlantica in a sunken ship from the Kingdom of Malak. It was a homey little place to make my own, and the petrified remains of the crew gave it that deadly and lethal vibe that I love so much! HA! I believe I actually have Grimhilde to thank for that. I should let her know how much I appreciated it at our next luncheon. While living in exile, I found a couple young street eels named Flotsam and Jetsam who’d lost their parents in a shark attack. They were clever and ruthless, and I admired that about them. I put a roof over their head and taught them all about living the good life. They’ve been mommy’s little poopsies ever since!

“The boys served as excellent spies to keep a magical eye on Atlantica, and they also were quite talented at luring unsuspecting merfolk into my clutches. It was hard being banished, but I found “gardening” to be very therapeutic! Having a collection of souls as a trophy for every deal well struck, making it so they’re powerless to do anything but to watch me continue to win? Mmm, just delicious! I eventually outgrew my little sandbox, though. I struck a deal with the King of Moray people to obtain the corpse of the Serpentine monster his people had put down, and I moved my lair to be inside the belly of the beast. Worked out perfectly!

“I had a few run ins with Triton and the people of Atlantica over the years, but my plans were foiled again and again by Triton’s youngest daughter, Ariel, the little hussy. The girl had a fascination with human things and seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble, and that made her unique amongst her dull sisters. I knew if there was one weak link in Triton’s perfect little chain, Ariel was it. She would be my ticket back into power, and so I had my boys keep an extra close watch on her. And, wouldn’t you know it? The girl fell in love with a human prince! It was almost too easy! I didn’t even have to do anything. Triton practically pushed her right into my clutches.

“Ariel and I struck a deal. I would turn her human for three days, during which time she’d have the opportunity to get her prince to fall in love with her. All it would cost her was that beautiful singing voice of hers. I was sure she’d fail without much trouble, and then I’d claim her soul to lord over Triton. But the little tramp was better than I thought, so desperate times called for desperate measures! I turned myself into a beautiful woman named Vanessa and used Ariel’s captive voice to seduce and enchant her prince. Give the girl credit, she and her filthy friends exposed me and put a stop to my wedding to the prince, but they were too late!

“Per the terms of our contract, Ariel was mine forever, and just as I knew he would, her dear old daddy came rushing off to the rescue. My magical contracts are unbreakable even for the sea king! He had no choice but to sacrifice himself to save his precious little girl. The sap! I took the trident and the crown at long last, and then I became RULER OF ALL THE OCEANS! ... That is, until Ariel and her sentimental fool of a prince interfered and drove a ship right into my belly! Oh the PAIN! Absolutely horrible what that big bad prince did to a poor sea witch. Where, oh where, is the justice in this universe?

“But, sweetcheeks, if you’ve learned anything from my tale, it should be this: you can’t keep a good witch down. I always have a plan B, even for death. Amazing how contracting your own soul back to yourself just shakes up the whole process. Your girl’s back and as gorgeous and fabulous as ever! And next time, I’ll finally get Triton and his little mermaid too!”

#Ursula #Ursula the Sea Witch #Disney Villains #Disney Roleplay #The Little Mermaid #Disney backstories #My Story

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poorly-caffeinated-diatribes · 9 months ago

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Ancestors

It is a miracle of life to move so quickly and yet so slowly all at once. The tables at this dining hall have changed 7 times since I sat down, never once leaving time for cleaning nor clearing, and as the afternoon sun pokes through the glass windows and the smell of cheap dark roast steams behind me, I can see that, though the faces are different, they never, in fact, alter. Plates clatter to the surface of the cheaply stained pinewood, and forks scrape across the faux porcelain until inevitably dropping, their temporary owners having finished their meals of perogies and chicken chilli.

With laughter, the first person lingers, prolonging their stay as they stare at something in their periphery --something that ignites the lines of their face with the curious joy of a toddler who has just snuck food under the table for the family dog.

The second person, much in the same manner, rushes through their meal, staring at their phone screen as though the grass on the other side of the window is not begging for attention and the crows are not hopping down from their perch, carefully scavenging, and then retreating back to the tops of the courtyard trees. No, this person is occupied, quite piously with the brick in their hand --brows furrowed in deep concentration and laugh lines twitching with the arrivals of various subsequent emotions, each brought on and manipulated by photos of cats, long lost high school friends, and socio-political scandals. They stand, push their chair in, take their plate, and leave, not once looking up, but smiling at the sound over their airpods as they go.

The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth that followed were much the same as the first two: varying between newborn fascination and youthful occupancy. They went about their meals, passing the time through electronic conversation, likes and shares, 1s and 0s, comments and videos and ringing laughter. Two hours passed this way, quickly sitting, quickly eating, quickly splitting.

The seventh had a resting face that screamed of nothing different than the rest, casually drifting between a frown the size of Tennessee, and a smile the size of Texas. They plunked down at their plate of third-rate stir fry, glancing out the window for a time at the grass, the birds, the faintly crumbled courtyard, and the sky high dormitory that punctured the view. It didn’t captivate them for long. They left as quickly as they came. They all left as quickly as they came… not noticing the ways in which the birds had flown and come back, and the wind had picked up and dyed down, and the chairs around them had changed hands the way family heirlooms do. Not noticing the ways in which the sky had clouded over, brightened up, greyed out, and glowed. Not knowing how the coffee had been brewed, poured, and emptied ad nauseum. Unaware of the ways in which the furnace had been slowed, stilled, and stoked. Not seeing that people have come before us, just as people will come after us, changing the world as they change the placement of the dining chairs, living for the simple pleasures of coffee, connections, and a slice of cake. No one saw that every movement was an echo, every echo a wave of rain and ocean to the rocks of time, weathering the chairs, the carpet, the atmosphere, seeping into the bones of every student, making all the difference and no difference all at once. Not one noticed. Truly. Not even Time. Not ever Time.

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tutuandscoot · 1 year ago

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I would love to hear your thoughts on the TS tv series. I personally thought it was done TERRIBLY and edited really awkwardly. They had SO MUCH potential creating a doco for them and they really had to turn it into CHEESY reality show?! 😓However, rewatching it I can see the edits and read between the lines a bit and see how much they still stuck together - particularly with Sochi being such a stressful time for them

Hello anon, I’m so very sorry I have been late to answer this, but I wanted to give it my proper attention.

Firstly, I agree with you- it is TERRIBLE. Atrociously edited- the music/ score is awful. Both Tessa and Scott’s characters were poorly portrayed- framing Tessa as this lonely single girl unable to put herself out there, and Scott as arrogant, impatient and dismissive of Tessa - ALL OF WHICH IS THE FURTHEST THING FROM THE TRUTH!!!

@your-hands-in-mine feel free to weigh in on this

So I have actually just began a rewatch of it, though when you first sent the ask I had just watched this yt video about why we are fascinated with reality TV (not everyone but just the psychology around why it appeals to people both to watch and be a part of)

And it made me think about VM’s show:

One of the main reasons it is so bad is that the subjects of it are Tessa and Scott. They are TERRIBLE reality TV subjects.

Why?

- They are not inherently attention seeking people- they are very private, reserved, and do not wish for more than is…necessary for their athletic careers amount of attention to be put on them. They have zero vanity about them- zero desire for strangers to marvel at their lives- they are athletes training their hardest wanting to achieve amazing things for themselves, each other and their country.

- They are not drama seekers/creators/their lives pertain next to zero drama- there is drama/gossip/scandals within their sport- but there is zero drama in their lives- their partnership is complicated for sure and of course there were disagreements over the years- but none of that is reality show drama worthy or anyones business to gossip on.

-As we recently learned- they never went though media training: on a reality show where the subjects are not given a ‘script’, story lines to follow, drama created for them, drowned in alcohol (ie: love island)- or the subjects do not fall into the above two categories, when the subjects are purely being themselves but have not had the training to ‘play to camera’ or incentives in their lives to put on some facade that will benefit their image outside of the show, all they are left with is to be themselves- and in VM’s case, themselves does not make for good reality TV. They are too ‘normal’ - this may be the only time VM has ever been referred to as normal, but as far as reality TV shows go- they are unproblematic, difficult to create drama about (yes ACTUALLY and the people who still do try to make drama about them are failing miserably and are pathetic, sad humans)

-They are incredibly interesting people but not reality show interesting- interesting that requires a much hire IQ then people on actual reality shows have-and are interesting to people with a slightly higher intelligence barometer..

So, why did they sign on to a ‘reality show’- well for starters- I fully believe them when they say they were lead to believe it was a documentary- the ‘reality’ part of it came to be in the editing room- of which they have zero control over or say in. The reality show editing treatment it was given does not come off compelling like those big reality franchises do- it comes off awkward, none of the fabricated storylines are believable and worst of all, it makes it really hard for the viewer to cheer for VM when you are left thinking that they they have been together for 17 years at that point but the editing makes it look as though they have just met.

I believe they thought it would be a good way to both let their fans into their world of what training was like for the Olympics And I’m sure they themselves thought it might be nice to look back on- at the time they thought this was it.

They would’ve signed into this I’m sure well before the ‘struggles’ of that pre- Olympic season started- before they had their second of two ‘big arguments’ - I’m presuming this occurred in the summer- lead up to the first competitions where they asked Marina if she thought they could win the olys and she never answered them. When they struggled to find and then connect to their fd music. The inevitable stress of an Olympic year, and maybe even before T felt she didn’t even want to go to the Olympics- feeling so defeated and unmotivated after the 2013 worlds.

There were lots of decisions that went into it that we will never know and they have their own reasons for it.

I have only watched it once through the whole way and am gritting my teeth through a rewatch, but each ep I watch the more I cringe at the thought that they are so uncomfortable and maybe don’t even realise it- that’s the worst bit for me, they are proceeding as normal without even realising how awkward they feel and come across. I think this gets better as the series progresses and they rebuild their relationship heading towards Sochi.

They would of course never admit any of this (beyond T saying they’re was dialogue and storyline’s stitched together that never happened) and they specifically asked the network not to focus on their relationship outside of skating and not to focus on the rivalry with DW- THE ONLY TWO THINGS THE SHOW DOES FOCUS ON, they won’t admit it in the near future at least and I doubt they ever will bc again they are not drama-attention seekers, but I’m sure part of them was disgusted and regretted it, it was such a baller move of them to go and make their own documentary ahead of 2018 and while it is about 12 hours too short- it does everything in 20 minutes that that joke of a reality show couldn’t do in 6 episodes; Make you cheer for vm, get chills watching them practice intimate movement and storytelling, the team that was ACTUALLY there supporting them, and makes you love them more than you thought you could.

#stupid show ask #again sorry this took so long

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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The first time I learned about “Loab,” it sent shivers down my spine. A strange dead-eyed ghoul that began haunting an AI image generator last year, Loab reminded me of a fiend I’d been tracking for years. One in a different medium, in a different era, and under a different name: the Marquis de Sade.

This may not seem like an obvious connection to make. The Marquis de Sade, one of the most infamous names in all of writing, was an 18th century French aristocrat, a man known for debauchery and evading authorities, breaking out of prison and eluding his own public execution in 1772. Loab is very much a product of the modern age, the accidental creation of artist Supercomposite, who claimed to have “discovered” her in an AI text-to-image generator in April of last year. The two couldn’t be more different. Yet, what Sade’s writing showed humanity about their unspoken fascinations and what chatbots like ChatGPT and Google’s Bard unearth about similar interests seem all but destined to intersect. The question is: Who will be prepared for it?

Sade’s efforts to chronicle humanity’s—or at least his own—forbidden desires began, somewhat famously, in the bowels of the Bastille. In the late 1770s, after being locked away following a series of scandalous offenses, Sade became obsessed with putting quill to paper, resulting in a body of work so obscene that its author would be variously described as “the freest spirit who ever lived” and an “apostle of assassins.”

His most notorious effort was The 120 Days of Sodom, penned on a 40-foot scroll. Sade called the novel “the most impure tale ever written since the world began.” It tells the story of four wealthy degenerates who lock young subordinates in a castle and subject them to months of escalating depravity: incest, bestiality, coprophilia, necrophilia, disemboweling, amputation, cannibalism, and more. By the end of the novel, the chateau is awash in blood and body parts. Thanks to his writing, Sade became so deeply associated with cruelty he inspired the term sadism—deriving pleasure from pain.

While Sade believed the scroll was destroyed in the 1789 storming of the Bastille, in reality it embarked on a continent-spanning odyssey that involved underground erotica collectors, pioneering sex researchers, Nazi book burnings, scandalous Surrealist art, an audacious heist, international court battles and, most recently, a massive manuscript scandal in France. In fact, due to its horrid subject matter and the upheaval it’s been associated with, some authorities believe the scroll to be cursed.

Damned or not, the novel’s very existence is a mystery. Why would anyone have bothered with such a herculean effort at a time when the results could never be openly published? Who exactly was the man behind it? Was Sade a revolutionary, working to expose the rotten core of the aristocracy into which he was born? Or was he simply an unrepentant criminal, chronicling his own atrocities, committed or simply dreamed of?

In my research on Sade and the scroll, one explanation for its creation stood out: Sade, say some experts, endeavored to lay bare mankind’s most cruel and twisted desires. In his work, they argue, Sade was aiming to strip away the pretensions of other writing and plunge readers into the heinous depths of the human psyche. Literary critic Annie Le Brun put it bluntly when she described 120 Days of Sodom: “Suddenly, we have nothing left to hold onto, not even the uncertain parameters of self-awareness, which has disappeared unnoticed. Sade hurls us into the abyss we naively thought existed between the real and the imaginary, but which turns out to be the unbearable infinity of freedom.”

Le Brun’s words came back to me when I began reading about Loab. Take how Supercomposite explained her accidental creation of the terrifying image when she entered a series of negative prompts into a custom AI text-to-image model to push it as far away as possible from its starting point:

“You start running as fast as you can … You maybe end up in the area with realistic faces, since that is conceptually really far away from logos. You keep running, because you don’t actually care about faces, you just want to run as far away as possible from logos. So no matter what, you are going to end up at the edge of the map. And Loab is the last face you see before you fall off the edge.”

Once Loab emerged, she stuck around. When Supercomposite “crossbred” her likeness with other images, Loab would reappear in the results—often accompanied by depictions of violence, blood, and body parts.

To Supercomposite, this suggested that in this particular text-to-image model, Loab was associated with extreme negative concepts buried beneath all the things we usually think about: “Through some kind of emergent statistical accident, something about this woman is adjacent to extremely gory and macabre imagery in the distribution of the AI's world knowledge.”

Loab, it seems, is an example of how AI, unencumbered by a conscience or sense of decorum, is proficient at bringing to light the horrible human tendencies at which most people simply hint. In other words, the emergence of artificial intelligence has created a digital doppelgänger of the Marquis de Sade.

So here’s my prediction: As AI text generators become ever more ubiquitous in online conversations, search interfaces, and other forms of digital communication, the linguistic version of Loab, or whatever you want to call her, will emerge again and again. Either through intentional prompts or accidental word combinations, these programs will begin churning out ideas every bit as disturbing as 120 Days of Sodom.

The explicit content filters baked into these programs won’t completely stop the phenomenon. As 120 Days of Sodom and other works have long demonstrated, the written word is uniquely adept at circumnavigating arbitrary barriers placed in its way.

And unlike its forefather, this reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade won’t be so easy to lock away.

Some will surely use this development to further condemn AI, using it as one more example of how ChatGPT and its ilk are ushering in the end of writing. Others will likely propose new, sweeping forms of censorship, such as how France, birthplace of the Marquis de Sade and 120 Days of Sodom, is now proposing a nationwide pornography ban for all minors.

Such extreme reactions would be a mistake and would only make matters worse. Loab, after all, didn’t emerge out of thin air; she was simply a reflection of the fascinations and fears humans have fostered all along. Likewise, AI language generators shouldn’t be condemned for revealing the dark underbelly of the written word. Instead, learning from the ghosts in these machines could challenge the ways people communicate, and employ what they discover to craft new examples of human-generated art and literature.

Whether you consider the Marquis de Sade a sage or a villain, in some matters he had the right idea. Like it or not, dark temptations lie within everyone, and suppressing them isn’t always the answer. As the so-called “Divine Marquis” once said to justify his profligate ways, “Let us give ourselves indiscriminately to everything our passions suggest, and we will always be happy … Conscience is not the voice of Nature; do not be fooled by it, for it is only the voice of prejudice.”

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