#youth with you s2

[djarin]

one of the main reasons i love ofmd is the unapologetic queer joy they show us. there's not a single moment where the drama revolves around a character's "coming out" moment. there's no need to accept or reject anyone for what they identify as. like, for fuck's sake, there have been so many moments in the show where they explicitly tell us, "hey, this is us, take it or leave it." no explanations, no justifications—just pure, unfiltered representation. it truly drives in the point that at the end of the day, queer people are also just simply people.

as much as i appreciate the abundance of queer representation we're getting now, i cannot emphasize how much a show like ofmd means to me. i am begging more companies to do what ofmd is doing and just show queer people living as boring old fucking people instead of as victims. take us beyond existing as an educational tool or a plot device. show queer people being people, and we'll stop being victims.

"kill me. kill us all. our spirit will last throughout your entire fսckin' empire because... we're good." you know what this show teaches us? that queer people are resilient as fuck, and that whatever we may have been told, shown, and made to believe about our queerness is wrong. we're good. we continue to be good despite the hardships we face. despite all the shit our elders and trailblazers have gone through from the beginning. despite the political landscapes of today that continue to try to strip us of our dignity and rights. we still exist and we will continue to exist—as people first, and victims last.

[deramin2]

I don't know how to really express this except to come across as a "kids these days" scold, but so much of the criticism of queerness in Good Omens would simply not be a thing if kids these days watched more 20th century queer media. Or more complex indie queer media in general.

People seem to want a show that's like the straight stories they grew up with but gay. Or the gay fanfiction they grew up with. But that's not really the tradition it's coming from. First off the novel was released in 1990. Queer film classics of the time are Dead Poet's Society (1989) and Torch Song Trilogy (1988). The TV miniseries Tales of the City (1993) wasn't made until 3 years later and it was so far out there it never had a huge audience. Philadelphia (1993) is also 3 years out and was basically the first big studio queer film. The first fluffy queer Hallmark-style romcom wasn't until Big Eden in 2000, a full 10 years after publication.

Queer stories from the time it was written were about complex and often fraught relationships between people who the world was trying to force apart. There is an incredibly strong tradition in queer films of relationships with no guarantees they will work out both in the face of their personal baggage and the weight of the world. Take a film like Torch Song Trilogy that's about the two great loves of Arnold Beckoff's life over 9 years and how homophobia shapes them. Both externally (especially Allen) and internally like Ed struggling with his bisexuality and being terrified of being publicly out. Written and starred in by Harvey Fierstein, who identified as a gay man at the time and only came out as nonbinary last year.

The Boys In The Band (1968 play, filmed 1970 and 2020) was a monumental moment in Broadway history where finally there was a play about gay men in their own words where no one died and very strongly showed that homosexuality doesn't make people miserable but homophobia sure does. But that homophobia also throws their personal lives into constant turmoil and none of them are in happy relationships, although Hank and Larry are devoted to each other in their own fucked up way.

"Relationships are complicated and hard to make work and sometimes a struggle against the odds" is an aesthetic of classic queer film making. Partly it was influenced by the Hays Code (although independent films were not bound to it), partly influenced by the rampant queerphobia in society at the time that was inescapable. But it's also an aesthetic choice to resist the banal and unrealistic relationship depictions of straight media. There are actual stakes to the relationship. Queer people were actively resisting a world that said "Romance is seeing someone across the room and instantly falling in love with each other and little conflicts happen along the way but ultimately they're destined to be together and everything is happily ever after." Recall that "stalking as romance" was a completely inescapable trope in 1980s straight romance films, and every goddamn movie was being turned into a romance film.

So queer people in film and television when they can make what they please have a long tradition of saying instead "People don't always realize the feelings they've developed for a queer partner right away. They may have reasons for denying those feelings that are both a reflection of the cruelty in society and of their own insecurities. People struggle with where they belong and their relationships reflect that. Loving someone doesn't mean they don't also drive you crazy and you might fight with them constantly. But that doesn't negate the love or that feeling that even if things aren't okay, they're better with that person around. But maybe that person can't stay around. The world may be against you. And also maybe you don't just want that one person in your life. Soulmates is a very flawed model. Sometimes the strongest love is a struggle with yourself and the world and your person. You have to overcome yourself first. Happily ever after is a lie. You may be happy for a while, and hopefully for a long while, but everything ends. And you have to be ready to love again. Also your platonic bonds are just as important and life-altering as your romantic ones. Sometimes those platonic bonds include fucking if you want them to. Real life isn't a bunch of platitudes and world-altering moments, it's daily work to better yourself and the world around you. Especially when things just fucking suck. But also remember to have fun and fuck the haters. People who don't support you can eat rocks and you should yell at them more to shut the fuck up."

That is a fundamentally different outlook on what a "good relationship depiction" looks like. Personally, I thought I hated romance movies and then I started watching queer romance movies and discovered I love them and watch them all the time. Because it turns out what I hated was relationships being shown that had nothing at all to do with reality and privileged incredibly toxic ideals. Finally there was complexity, there were stakes, and there were people who had to truly want to be together enough to fight the world for it and not because they happened to be there. There were people actually talking out their problems and looking for resolutions. (And sometimes that resolutions was "I can't fucking deal with this bullshit anymore and I'm out.") For the first time it felt real.

I'm an aroace trans gay man. Nothing about relationships or being in relationships has come easy to me, and the whole paradigm of straight patriarchal romance depictions makes absolutely no sense to me. It's completely alien. Queer romance stories actually feel human.

And that's the tradition Good Omens is coming from, even as it's being retold in 2019-2023 and hopefully beyond. Gaiman's work has always been based in that queer media paradigm. (I've been remiss and daunted and haven't read Pratchett but from what I do know his work also seems to sit more in that world view.) It's a beautiful cinematic tradition and it's baffling to me that people would resist it instead of embracing it for being honest.

And that's when I turn into a crotchety old man complaining about the youth not connecting with the history of their beautiful culture and instead begging for assimilation into a shithole allocishet media landscape that doesn't actually want them except for their money and has nothing at all interesting or valuable to say. But it's very funny (annoying) to me when people claim Good Omens is someone against queer culture when it's so thoroughly bathed in the best of queer media's storytelling traditions and what people are asking for is straight media with the serial numbers filed off. Like, stop being boring please and know literally anything about the culture the adults in the room lived through and were influenced by. The world didn't begin in 2015.

EDIT: I also want to add that in straight media arcs are linear. Traditionally in queer media arcs are cyclical. Queer media very often depicts people going around in circles relearning the same lesson over and over as they inch towards it sinking in. But every time they go through the cycle they gain just a little bit more enlightenment and slowly move towards a better place. From the comments this is an immensely important distinction. People don't actually have cathartic moments where suddenly all their past bad programming is shed and they saunter forward a new person with none of their old baggage. In reality people fall into the same patterns over and over even though they have had every opportunity to learn better. "People magically get better" is a trope of straight media that's an outright and frankly dangerous lie. Again, Good Omens follows the queer tradition not the straight one and it's depicted 6,000 years of that cycle. The world didn't end, and the wheel keeps turning, as it always has and always will. That's so fundamental to queer storytelling traditions I forgot to even mention it.

[liquidstar]

crazy take: aside from actual lesbian romance stories, obviously, nothing passes the bechdel test better than moe "cute girls doing cute things" anime. its always just a group of girls, few to no named male characters, boys and dating are hardly ever brought up beyond the abstract, if at all. like we're focusing on the girls hanging out rn, we dont need to worry abt that shit. mugi just ate mio's strawberry.

[yuripira4e]

I want to preface this post by saying that I love the cat king as a character, especially one that has such a major impact on Edwin and his relationship with his queerness and learning to be okay with it; HOWEVER, I also believe that everyone that genuinely believes he should be a love interest for Edwin should read this. (Also if you just like the cat king as a character and want to understand his character better and why his and Edwin’s relationship is not something that would be healthy or “real” for either)

[just-a-little-unionoid]

btw there IS a bird that never touches ground

the common swift lives in all of Europe and most of Asia or in the south of Africa depending of the season, and it can spend 10 whole months in the sky without ever touching ground

it's too vulnerable on land

oh and those two months left? mating season

[theinfinitedivides]

'you quit drinking?' 'yep.' 'you quit drinking.' 'sure did.' 'you quit drinking. how do you know about this place, then?' 'i rent a condo upstairs.' 'you rent a condo above a bar?' 'that's right.' 'well, that's very… Catholic.'

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

I love watching middle aged men figure out emotions they've repressed for decades

[ionkent]

claudia de pointe du lac im so sorry i wasnt your mother

[hellotailor]

louis' final three costumes in S2 are so, so cleverly chosen. after the curated blandness of his interview wardrobe in dubai, this is our first glimpse of his personal taste in the present day. each outfit is full of meaning.

in the first half of S2, louis and armand’s coordinated interview outfits seemed like part of their performance as a happy couple. by the end, they have a more sinister subtext. louis has gone from having stylish, flashy fashion sense to wearing uniformly expressionless black and grey:

dubai-era louis exclusively wears the colors of depression and mourning, in a style stripped of personal expression, physically and spiritually separated from the outside world. i’ll write a separate post about armand’s costumes later, but you could interpret this as louis' taste being subsumed by armand’s nebulous 500-year-old absence of identity. at the very least, louis is blending into the chic minimalism of the apartment, presenting himself as part of the household unit.

with that in mind, his final three outfits signal a seismic change after leaving armand. his NOLA tour costume reflects the philosophy behind his 1940s wardrobe (ie. selected to blend into a human crowd) but he's also reconnecting with his home, wearing a New Orleans Saints hat with (in a potential piece of double symbolism!) a fleur-de-lis logo.

then we have the loustat reunion outfit, which is more enigmatic. he’s going for subdued colors (although not pure black and grey), with a silhouette echoing his mid-20th century wardrobe: high-waisted, wide-legged trousers and a bomber jacket - a cut he wears pretty often. IMO the reunion’s overall color palette is a major factor here, with lestat and louis' costumes and surroundings sharing a spectrum of dark brown, sepia and muted gold.

finally there's the last scene in dubai, arguably the most “pure” expression of louis' taste because he’s not wearing this outfit for an audience. coordinating with the apartment’s colorful makeover, he’s wearing a multicolored cardigan with yellow highlights, matching claudia’s dress, the yellow couches, and the gold background of his new painting. (i’ve identified this as a YMC cardigan retailing at £250; a mid-range english brand.)

this piece (paired with navy blue pants with a yellow stripe) is modern and distinctive; basically the opposite of his interview costumes, which displayed very little in the way of personality or cultural markers. you immediately understand that louis is expressing himself through fashion again, now in a more casual streetwear context than the tailored and accessorized suits of his youth.

[creganslover]

Spicetown Shore

Pairing: Addam of Hull x Fem! Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, she had no choice but to let you be the one to confront Seasmoke's new rider.

Word count: 2.7k

Warning/s: s2 spoilers! canon events followed but strayed towards the end, not beta read so sorry for any mistakes!

Note: so hotd s2 just finished and i am absolutely in shambles and also in love w addam so i just know i had to get this out there. if i have the time perhaps, i could write for more hotd characters <3 likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated.

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Last evening upon learning Seasmoke had gained a new rider upon the sands of Spicetown, Rhaenyra was taken aback, especially with the events that happened regarding the late Ser Steffon Darklyn, a member of Rhaenyra’s Queensgard helplessly burned by Seasmoke’s flames with the hopes to claim the dragon by Rhaenyra’s idea of playing chance with folk who looked to even have a chance of having dragonseed within them. 

Now this morn, Rhaenyra paced the hall as the council looked at each other as the news had been disseminated. Eventually, Rhaenyra halts and she places her finger on the table, looking at everyone. “There is no choice, I must ride dragonback to meet this new rider and know where they stand.” Rhaenyra voiced. 

Jacerys was the first one to disagree, refusing to even let his mother out of his sights, the council agreeing. “Your grace, the prince is right, you would be left vulnerable if you chase the unknown dragon rider on your own.” Lord Baltimos agreed, Jacaerys gesturing to the older man to make a point as he looked back to his mother. 

“Then what would you have me do? Seasmoke is out there flying the skies with a new rider that we know nothing of, nor where they stand whilst we are on the brink of war!” Rhaenyra countered, exhaling loudly as she rubbed at her temple with her hand, trying to massage the tension, though all of her body was tense.

You, however, had also been the one to receive the news early, now marching towards the hall of Dragonstone, the voices of countless opinions, risks and ideas being shared getting louder as did your footsteps, a Queensgard announcing your presence making the Black Council’s heads turn. 

“Daughter.” Rhaenyra breathed. “Where have you been?” She said in worry, brows creased as you stood across from her. 

But you did not even answer her question as you had already made up your mind. “Let me be the one to go, mother.” 

Jacaerys, your older brother turned to face you next, and he was about to speak. Though already sensing what he was going to say, you spoke again to halt his words. “I know my way through Spicetown and its beaches,” you began. “Surely spotting Seasmoke and his rider is an easy task.” You added, since you’ve been known to ride out often on your dragon to explore, taking after your mother Rhaenyra to which the latter now could see the stubbornness she once possessed. 

“Your grace, if I may,” interjected Lord Simon as he looked at you then back at Rhaenyra. “The princess has a habit of scouting Dragonstone and nearby islands, surely Spicetown had been one of them.” You offer Lord Simon a thankful nod before facing your mother once more. 

Picking at your gloves that you held in hand, Rhaenyra could see the determination in your eyes that reflected her youth. “Do you promise to–” “I would get back at once if I deem the situation inoperative.” Shutting down her doubts, Rhaenyra swallowed thickly. 

“Sister, you do realize what you might face?” Jacaerys then comes walking around the table to stop by you, his brown eyes scanning you as if searching for an ounce of hesitation that he couldn’t find even if he tried. You saw and knew what that look meant, both of your minds running over the memory of Lucerys, and you could not blame him so. 

 “Trust me brother, no harm shall come to me.” You replied, meeting your brother’s gaze, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving a squeeze which Jacaerys only sucked in a breath, his hand gliding to the hilt of his sword again, a habit he acquired when he thought deeply. He bowed his head, free hand placing itself on top of yours on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You promise.” He said. 

Rhaenyra saw the interaction between her two oldest children and her chest panged, two of her oldest children forced to fight for their birthright and for her, their mother. “Then it is done, (Y/N), you shall seek Seasmoke and find its rider at once.” Rhaenyra voiced, though anyone heard the lace of care in her tone. 

You looked up and nodded, feeling emboldened by the task given. Looking out the window, the sun was still high and up, and there was no more time to waste. 

Taking a bow, you took in a breath. “I shall see to it, your grace.” You said before bowing and turning on your heel to prepare. 

Once being donned in layers fit for dragonback, you quickly rushed to the hallway leading to the inside of the dragonmont, the atmosphere heating as well as the sight and smell of smoke filled your senses. 

At once, the dragonkeepers had already called upon your dragon, screeching at once as it sensed your presence. Approaching the magnificent creature, you breathed in as you placed your palm against its snout. “Lykirī (be calm), Naerax.” You hummed. The dragon crooned and you looked it in the eye. “Ready for another adventure?” You grinned, before hopping and strapping yourself onto the saddle. 

Breathing in, you nodded and tugged on your saddle, sending Naerax screeching before spreading its wings and taking flight, easily gliding out the mountains and out into the skies, Dragonstone shrinking from view.

It had been a while of flying, keeping your eyes peeled as you finally were able to make out the forms of Spicetown and the beaches scattered upon it, diving lower, you tried to find a sign of Seasmoke somehow, the silver-grey dragon seemed to be nowhere in sight. 

Until you had rounded into a particular patch of land, sands white and unoccupied, except for what you had been looking for. 

And there surely was Seasmoke upon the ground, a silhouette of a person standing in front of it. Naerax’s cries only further confirmed your thoughts and was enough to echo in the sky, Seasmoke screeching in turn as you quickly manoeuvred, circling the area before diving down onto the beach a good few yards away from Seasmoke and his new rider. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, never really having a plan once you’ve found them, but you steeled yourself, quickly sliding off the saddle and letting your feet touch the sandy ground after a while of patrolling the skies. 

Standing there, you couldn’t really make out the appearance of the rider but you had guessed it was a man, possibly residing from Driftmark. 

The two of you stood in utter silence, only both your dragons roaring at each other, until he had the gall to walk forward, Seasmoke following in tow as you turned over your mind for possibilities of how this interaction would go. 

Dragghar decided that the man had walked close enough as it sent a warning bellow, succeeding in making the man stop. This was the opportunity given to take a closer look at him, a tall young man by your age from the looks of things, having a skin of deep umber, face contorted to an apprehensive expression. 

After another beat of silence, you began. “You stand before the daughter of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with a dragon of House Targaryen.”  You shouted, making your voice firm as you kept your gaze onto him and Seasmoke behind him. 

“I had no design upon it!” The man had shouted back, voice full and deep. You furrow your brows in turn. “What do you want?” You asked, “To learn the ways of dragonriders,” Came his reply.

You were about to counter his request when he did something you were not expecting at that time. He knelt before you, “And to serve the queen!” He followed, bowing his head down. 

It sent you stunned, blinking back as you stared at him, still wary of his quick submission as the dragons continued to grumble at one another, with a sharp intake of breath, you slowly began to walk towards him, Naerax following suit, dragging his wings across the sand as it crawled, Seasmoke bracing as he roared at the two of you. 

“You kneel so quickly, for a man who’s suddenly elevated.” You commented, gaze switching from the man to Seasmoke. “This dragon came to me, not I to him.” He responded, his gaze never wavering from yours, you had to applaud his integrity.

“I have sweated blood in service of House Velaryon,” He continued, pausing and swallowing before gesturing to himself, still knelt.

“I may appear lowborn, but I know much and more of service… and if the Gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them?” He finished, huffing a breath as he looked at you, willing you to believe. 

The hand that was resting on the hilt of your dagger suddenly loosened as the wariness slowly started to ebb away with the waves crashing against the shore, the air feeling suddenly cool. Your feet had made the decision to walk towards him, stopping right across from him. “Is what you say true?” You questioned as you looked down at him. “I swear it, my lady.” 

“Stand.” You said, watching as the man seemed to be flooded in relief as he slowly stood back up to his full height. Remembering your mother’s task, you straightened yourself.

“What is your parentage?” You asked, tilting your head at him, seeing his features crease before answering. “My mother was a shipwright. My father is… no one of consequence.” The last part he uttered with a tone of indifference. 

Nodding, you continued to ask. “Your ancestors, do they happen to be of House Targaryen?” 

“We’re not the sort of family to keep annals, my lady.” He responded, by now he seems much more relaxed, which meant the most since there was no ounce of hostility from both parties moving forward. “What is your name?” You asked as he answered without missing a beat. “Addam… of Hull.” So you were right in your suspicions that he resided in Driftmark. 

Seasmoke grumbled in the background as you nodded. “You have done something my mother, the Queen, had feared unimaginable, Addam… the Queen will be most glad of it.” 

Addam then turned to face Seasmoke and back at you, a small grin settling on his face as he exhaled in relief, nodding as the words sinked in, feeling somewhat gratified.

“Thank you, my lady.” “(Y/N).” You offered with a smile settling on your own lips. “(Y/N).” He repeated, never had your name sounded so pleasant before. 

With this, a playful air began to take hold as you grinned. “Think you could get him to Dragonstone, then?” You asked, jerking your head to Seasmoke who grumbled. Addam blinked for a moment, never thinking to travel that far before, much less on dragonback. “I can try.” He chuckled nervously. 

And so, you were delighted that Addam had sided with the Queen, your mother. 

Climbing back on Naerax, you watched as Addam did the same on Seasmoke, the greyish creature letting Addam take his time as you rounded Naerax, tugging on the ropes as your dragon obliged, screeching and running before spreading its wings once more, a gust of dust left as Naerax took to the skies once more. As Addam and Seasmoke made it off the ground, you gestured for him to follow.  “Sōvēs (Fly), Naerax.” You commanded, heading for Dragonstone. 

Naerax calls out once Dragonstone comes to view, making you glance to see Addam following, though he didn’t look too well at the moment, making you laugh as you gestured for him to follow and show where to land the dragon. 

After dismounting, the two of you were making your way to the castle.

Rhaenyra was pacing back and forth as Jacaerys had been gripping the pommel of his sword tightly, knuckles turning white until Baela had to talk to him to calm him down. At once, a member of the Queensgard approached and Rhaenyra snapped to look at them, face expecting the news as the knight bowed. “The princess is unharmed.” 

Rhaenyra felt the tensions seep away from her veins as she sighed in relief, also with Jacaerys letting out a breath while Baela was glad of the news. “What of the rider? Do we know who he is?” Came Corlys Velaryon’s questions. 

“He appears to be a shipwright in your employ, Lord Hand.” Answered by Maester Gerardys. “A commoner? With respect to your workers, Lord Corlys, the lowborn cannot go around seizing dragons. Has the thief been secured?” Lord Baltimos conveyed. Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed and she was about to speak when in came (Y/N) Targaryen with Addam of Hull, immediately turning heads as they stopped inside the hall. 

“He is no thief, Lord Baltimos.” You spoke as Addam stood beside you, Rhaenyra then watched closely the man who Seasmoke now claimed as his rider. “Seasmoke had come to him and chose him as its rider, and I am sure no one in their right mind would face a dragon so willingly.” You defended. Glancing beside Addam, you nodded for him to speak.

 “Your grace, I am Addam, of Hull…” he began,swallowing as he ignored eyes on him and solely focused on Rhaenyra, bowing, “I realize a great power had been given to me, and I may know nothing of what awaits me from this day forth, but I stand here now to swear on my allegiance and with the belief that the Gods steered me to this path, to serve you, my Queen.” He voiced firmly, never wavering. 

Rhaenyra looked at him then at you, knowing that she trusts her daughter with her own calls, and if her daughter deemed him enough to come and lay bare here on Dragonstone, with his words so sincere and determined, Rhaenyra took a deep breath. “Very well, Addam of Hull.” She began. “He is here to remain as a guest, so as to be instructed in the art of dragonriding, teach him some High Valyrian.” Rhaenyra voiced. “With the help of maester Gerardys and the princess.” You blinked but nodded. “Of course, your grace.”

Thus, as the days blended, Rhaenyra had monitored Addam’s progress, further fueling her idea just might work as she spent relearning countless Targaryen lineages whilst Jacaerys seemed to resent the whole idea of other people who had the chance of dragonseed to simply up and claim a dragon, after having suffered to be proclaimed to be a bastard his whole life, but war was brewing and he as many others knew, needed the additional resources if they wanted the chance to bring down the Greens. 

With you, you had taken your time with Addam, often alternating with maester Gerardys to teach him, often bearing witness to his fails and successes when you stayed behind and watched, thus this allowed a small bond to be formed between the two of you. 

Now, you were with Addam again, at one of the many balconies in Dragonstone.

“Repeat after me, ‘rȳbās’, it means listen.” You explained, accentuating your High Valyrian as Addam looked at you with a hint of a fond gaze as he cleared his throat, repeating the command as best as he could. “That’s good.” You praised, smiling.

“A little more firmness to it might do good, but you’re a fast learner.” You added. 

“Must be because I have an impressive guide, won’t you say so?” He grinned boyishly, making you roll your eyes. “You did not say that the last time you slipped on Seasmoke’s saddle and almost smacked to the ground.” You teased with a light shrug as you flipped the pages on the tome.

“No, no, my boot got caught on the ropes!” He defended lightly, making you both laugh. “Something really bad could’ve happened to me, have you not thought of that?” He jested, face souring in mock hurt making you nod and play along. “Oh yes, I have, but your squeals proved far more entertaining.” 

Rhaenyra had been observing the interaction without the pair’s knowledge, finding it almost special as Addam had proved himself to be a man of integrity indeed and was quick to learn through his efforts, but now her daughter had a different certain glow to her as the days passed as Addam resided here in Dragonstone, and the two had only gone closer it seemed. 

Even as the threat of war loomed, here there were still the chances of finding light in unexpected circumstances. 

[perseidlion]

Now that I've finished watching Rings of Power Season 2, I have to say they were right to cast Celebrimbor as an actor who looked older than most of the other elves. People will point out that in canon, he was younger than Galadriel. At first, I didn't really get why they changed that for the show. Was it just for variety? Some other reason?

Well, after finishing the season, I think it's safe to say the reason was thematic.

The tragedy of Celebrimbor is so much greater when he visually reads older to the audience. Here is a man at the absolute pinnacle of his craft. His name is legend. He built an entire city around his forge. He has a talent so rare that Sauron needed him for conquest. If he had been cast as a younger actor, even if he was 1500+ in Elven years or something, his story would read as a naive youth seduced by power. It's so much more poignant and tragic to see the legacy of a master of his craft destroyed along with the man.

Watching fantasy is a different experience to reading fantasy, especially with wacky elf ages. The LoTR movies knew this, which is why Hugo Weaving (39) was old enough to convincingly play Liv Tyler's (22) father even though Elrond probably still looked similar to his daughter's age in the books. It's so it doesn't feel weird for the audience and they don't lose suspension of disbelief.

Episode 8 of S2 (and the episodes that precede it) really hammer home that Celebrimbor's undoing isn't just a win for Sauron - this is a loss for elvenkind. Elrond's utter horror at watching Celebrimbor's written legacy being burned to ash was a brilliant storytelling choice. More was lost at the Fall of Eregion than Elvish lives or a weapon in their enemy's hand. They lost the work of a master - the kind of person who comes around once in an age, if that.

What's more, they didn't just lose Celebrimbor. Sauron destroyed him from the inside, eating away at him until he was a pathetic shell of himself. He tried very hard to turn Celebrimbor from celebrated master to a man corrupted by darkness - both in reality and in reputation. But he resisted with what strength he had left. And his kin saw the truth before he died.

All of this was heightened by Celebrimbor being played by a man older than most of the other elf actors. It was a visual signal of his position of respect and wisdom, regardless of his actual age. That was his position in Elvish society that was efficiently shown by aging him up.

You might not always agree with what the minds behind Rings of Power are doing with their story. But after this season, I trust they do have their reasons and will be eagerly awaiting season 3.

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 12

Request: Yes or No

Summary: For three days, the Queen and King Consort of Westeros remained unreachable after hearing the news of Prince Lucerys Velaryon's death. But with war threatening to spill over, they must put aside their grief for the sake of the Realm.

CW/TW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, mentions of Luke's death/loss of a child, hella grief, implied sexism toward Rhaenyra/a female ruler, angst, will (Y/N) Hightower ever catch a break? tune in next time to find out

Alexa play The Family Jewels by Marina and every other song i have on the playlist(s) for this series

~~~

Grief was an old friend, for it and (Y/N) had grown aquatinted long ago back in his youth when his mother passed, frail and weak and miserable. Grief was a snake that coiled around the heart and mind and squeezed until one could no longer weep or breathe. It constricted and slithered about in the shadows in the back of one's mind, lunging out with its fangs eager to sink into tender flesh. But grief was no monster, not truly. It formed from one of the purest things humans were capable of. 

Love. 

(Y/N) tried to remember that as he rubbed his fingers into his tear-stained cheeks and handed his empty cup to the nearby maid. She curtsied with her head bowed and stepped away while another lowered herself down onto the stone floor to tend to his youngest children, Aegon and Viserys. He listened to the clacking of wooden toys hitting the floor and each other, the incoherent babbling only they could understand, and the gentle cooing of the maid as she played along with them, encouraging them to play together. 

He couldn't remember the last time he bathed nor the last time he'd changed out of his sleepwear. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen his wife, or even heard news of her wellbeing. She'd taken off on Syrax without word days prior but reports flew in occasionally of sightings. She searched shorelines relentlessly. She searched for their son's remains. 

Aegon tilted his head up toward his father and leaned forward, reaching one small, chubby hand out toward his pant leg and giving a swift tug. (Y/N)'s fluttering thoughts halted and his attention dropped down to the small boy, his heart and gaze softening as Aegon stared up at him expectantly with those large violet eyes. He leaned down and scooped his son into his arm, a soft exhale leaving him at the familiarity of it all. He couldn't lose another child. Little silent Marin and joyful Luke. (Y/N) pressed his lips to Aegon's temple and squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of them.

"My Lord," Daemon's voice called out from the doorway and (Y/N) sighed heavily. "I wish to speak with you."

"What about?" His voice sounded hoarse, dry and worn from little care. 

"Pressing matters that are best discussed in private," Daemon answered and (Y/N) swallowed harshly, rubbing his cracked lips together in contemplation before he carefully set his son back on the floor and approached the prince, sparing his playing children a glance as the door into the room closed. He inhaled deeply and turned his head toward Daemon.

"What is it?"

"I wish to fly out to King's Landing and kill Vhagar. She is the only thing standing between us and the throne, the old bitch. I asked Rhaenys to accompany me but she refused without Rhaenyra's command. She's always liked you, despite what happened with Laenor. She may yet listen if you ask this of her, or matter of fact, command it. You are our King. She'll have no choice but to-"

"Consort, Daemon. I am King Consort to Queen Rhaenyra. I am but an extension of her and the throne. I will not do or say anything without her knowledge, Daemon, that is my duty. When she returns-"

Daemon's jaw clenched, his voice beginning to rise and echo loudly down the hall. "Rhaenyra has been away for days, (Y/N)! We cannot push forward without our Queen here and she has abandoned her duties to fly out without anyone at her side where she is most vulnerable! Rhaenyra is a queen, she cannot take leave without saying anything-"

"And she's a grieving mother, Daemon. We just learned our son is dead! Our boy is gone. Mere weeks ago he was at our side healthy and happy and- and smiling and now he is dead. We are grieving our- our child. Rhaenyra was a mother before she became queen, or have you forgotten? Luke- Luke was only barely man-grown. We will not see him wed; we will not see him have children; we will not see what could've become of him because-" (Y/N) felt breathless, heart squeezing and twisting as tears flooded his vision again. He was so sick of crying. He inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears whilst Daemon watched grimly. "If Rhaenys believed your plan to be a good one, she would've agreed. Attacking Vhagar will merely put our best fighters and dragons at risk. If you wish to do anything else than be here, you may patrol the island."

"If Rhaenyra does not return soon," Daemon began quietly, voice tittering on the edge of sympathy and irritation. "The Council's support may begin to waver. We look to you in Rhaenyra's absence, and even in her presence many will still desire your approval. They may be here to support her but half of those men are only fulfilling the oath they made to King Viserys, not her. Consort or not, the Council believes you to be a more suitable ruler than Rhaenyra right now." 

(Y/N)'s teeth grinded together, his eyes flickering away from the prince as his words churned in his mind. He knew many of the men on their Council well; power-seeking fools who believed themselves to always be in the right regardless of what others thought or said. He'd been drowning in his grief for too long with no remedy whilst the men likely argued and filled each other's heads with ideas of grandeur. For the sake of the realm, for the sake of his wife's greatest desire... (Y/N) had to put aside his grief and longing, even if it swallowed him whole later. 

"Check for any reportings of Syrax or Rhaenyra." (Y/N) ordered him, taking a deep inhale and releasing it in a sigh. "I... I will deal with the Council for now."

Setting off for his bedchambers, he gave the servants a list of requests that they quickly scattered off to fulfill. He bathed for the first time in a long while, scrubbing away the grime and sweat that'd accumulated over time before he dried himself and finally dressed himself in something other than sleepwear that felt and looked as regal as his position. He soothed his aching throat with sweetened tea and properly broke his fast with a meal before leaving his bedchambers and heading down the halls to where the Council awaited his arrival. 

"My Lord," They rose to their feet and bowed their heads, all but Rhaenys who simply watched him enter, her gaze curious and intrigued. Few of the lords remained standing as he stopped at the end of the table where Rhaenyra's seat was, coming to stand behind it and rest his hands along the top. They watched, waiting for him to sit. 

"Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for not attending the past few meetings, but I am here now, and soon so will my wife." (Y/N) took in the exchanged glances and grim, almost annoyed looks that passed over some of their faces. He took note of those who seemed more vexed than the others.

"I know these past days have been dark and confusing for some without our queen here but I'd like to remind you all that Queen Rhaenyra has not forgotten her duties to the Realm and to this council. If she cared little for her position as Queen, you all would be home or in King's Landing serving under the usurper, but you are not. Why? Because Queen Rhaenyra refused to allow her father's wishes to be ignored by Dowager Queen Alicent and the oathbreakers who support her son. You are here because you are not Oathbreakers nor men easily intimidated or swayed. I am thankful for your presence and support, as is my wife as we go through such difficult times. I ask for more patience, patience I will ensure is rewarded when this comes to an end."

He watched them all, unable to push away the jittering nerves bubbling up in his stomach. (Y/N) had always considered himself a confident man but he'd always merely been Otto Hightower's son and nothing more. He knew the moment he married Rhaenyra, it'd be asked of him one day to command or rule in her stead for whichever reason, but he simply never expected it to occur so soon. His eyes jumped to Rhaenys, staring into her unreadable yet gentle eyes, and felt himself relax when she gave him a subtle encouraging nod. 

"With that out of the way," (Y/N) cleared his throat and took in another small breath. "Has a letter been sent out to Prince Jacaerys? Has he answered?"

The men exchanged glances once more but only Lord Bartimos Celtigar took a small step forward toward the table to speak, his eyes sliding over the rest of the council in mild irritation. "We... We were not aware an order was given to send a letter for Prince Jacaerys, My Lord." He spoke carefully and slowly. 

A beat of silence passed. "The... The brother of the heir to the Iron Throne has died and none of you believed it to be wise to inform him?" (Y/N) questioned, stepping around the chair and pressing his fingers into the table. The men answered in silence and (Y/N) almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Maester Gerardys, please prepare a letter for Prince Jacaerys informing him of what has occurred." 

"Will you be asking for his presence, My Lord?" Maester Gerardys asked as he rose from his seat, his hands clasping together and being partly covered when his large sleeves rolled down his arms. Perhaps one of the few men (Y/N) could trust amongst the council with his age and experience in overseeing the family's matters. "We have yet to receive word on his progress in the North."

"Tell him.." (Y/N)'s gaze flickered away from the maester, his thumb beginning to rub into the ring on his index finger. Eyes turned back to him, peering at him closely. It felt as if he'd stepped into a den of vipers awaiting one wrong move so they could strike. "Inform him of what has happened and... and that once he has finished securing Cregan Stark's army, he is to return home. He is needed here, now more than ever." 

"Of course, My Lord." Maester Gerardys bent slightly at the waist in a bow, the chain around his neck swaying and clinking with his movements before he lowered himself back down into his seat.

"Good," (Y/N) cleared his throat and straightened his back, wetting his lips in uncertainty. Nobody had instructed him on ruling; his childhood had been filled with history books, lessons from maesters and septas, and the basics of how to use a sword and defend himself, but never had it crossed anyone's mind that he'd reach the status of 'King Consort.' He released a quiet sigh. "What news do you all have to share?" 

Long stretches of hours passed filled, hardly filled with much necessary news and rather squabbling and insistence in carrying on with a bloody war. (Y/N) stared blankly at the table for half of it, suddenly understanding why his mother oft' seemed in her head whenever his brothers bickered and complained in front of her. Rhaenys and Daemon appeared to share his thoughts, neither providing much input apart from Daemon occasionally agreeing with the idea of pressing forward without Rhaenyra. None of it surprised (Y/N), but he still wished to be with his children instead. He yearned to see Jace, safe and sound within the walls of the castle where no danger could chance upon him. 

His legs and back were beginning to ache, and his stomach lightly grumbled for food. His lips parted to provide some excuse to remove himself from the meeting but the doors parted and Ser Erryk strolled into the room, dipping his head to the lords in respect before making a beeline for him. "What is it?" (Y/N) asked instead. 

"We found a stowaway in one of the ships." Ser Erryk explained quietly. "The White Worm, she calls herself. She's provided little answers as to why she's come here apart from her desire to have a word with you, My Lord." 

"You should remain here." Daemon cut in swiftly before (Y/N) could respond, rising from his seat as the corner of his lips curled. (Y/N)'s gaze darted to him questioningly, his eyes squinting slightly at the prince. "I am well-acquainted with the 'White Worm', My Lord. I shall deal with her for you. There's no need for you to trouble yourself." 

(Y/N) pressed his lips into a grim line. "Very well, Daemon." He dismissed him with a nod, catching the wince from Ser Erryk before the knight dipped his head again and escorted the prince off to where they were holding the so-called White Worm. He watched them go, hands coming together and fingers beginning to toy with the rings along his knuckles. 

Allowing a long moment to pass, one filled with more squabbling and debating, he let out a heavy sigh. "It has grown quite late." He announced to the lords, savoring the way they grew silent at his words and nodded in agreement. 

Before he could continue, however, a distant yet familiar shriek echoed from outside the castle. (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut and swore he felt his heart twist into itself, his body growing stiff when another shriek followed. Syrax. He knew the sound of the golden she-dragon well. How could he not when his wife had insisted on introducing them to each other? His jittering thoughts were confirmed when Daemon returned to the room with Ser Erryk at his heels; the knight positioning himself by the doors and beginning to recite those familiar words:

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." 

(Y/N) watched her when she entered, breath nearly knocked out of his lungs when they made eye contact from across the room. He'd be a liar if he denied the thought that she'd abandoned them hadn't briefly crossed his mind but there she stood, his wife and queen.

Rhaenyra looked disheveled and utterly exhausted; Her pale skin had grown speckled with dirt and grime; bags had formed under her watery violet eyes; the hair she oft' kept in a neat and long braid had fallen loose from the hairstyle and tumbled down her shoulders in wild, wind-swept strands; her clothes looked worn and dirtied. 

Everyone seemingly held their breaths as she staggered into the room and rounded the table, her eyes never leaving his until she stood at his side. The words Daemon and Rhaenys spoke slipped in one ear and out the other for them both, the space held between their bodies feeling agonizingly far. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered between hers, not a fragment of a reaction or emotion on either of their faces but they nonetheless communicated. She'd found his remains. 

Rhaenyra broke away first to finally face the Council for the first time in days, her chest falling with a shaky exhale. She stared at the flickering candles littered around the table, her cracked lips parting. She stayed quiet for a beat before lifting her gaze.

"I want... Aemond Targaryen." She spoke, her voice shaking and eyes flooding with unshed tears. Her trembling hand found his and wrapped around him, squeezing him lightly.

"That-" His voice threatened to crack. "That will be all for today, My Lords. I bid you goodnight." 

The walk to their bedchambers was a quiet one, a silence the maids ensured to keep as they helped Rhaenyra into her bath and draped her nightgown over the bed. (Y/N) dismissed them with a nod, waiting for them to collect her filthy clothes and depart before he lowered down onto the stool beside the tub. He shed himself of his upper wear until his undershirt remained, tugging the sleeves up to his elbows and taking the soapy sponge into his hand. 

"I sent word for Jace." He spoke first, rubbing the sponge into her skin and cleaning away all that'd accumulated there over the past days. Rhaenyra finally seemed to break out of her hazy trance to look upon him, her nostrils flaring slightly and head weakly nodding. He scrubbed lightly at her collarbone, the water beginning to turn in color. "I made an attempt at.. dealing with the Council, but you know I have a low tolerance for vexing old men." 

Rhaenyra managed to crack a small smile. "I'm... thankful.. for your patience." She murmured, her still trembling hand grasping one of the other sponges and slowly dragging over her no-doubt aching thighs. 

They fell into comfortable silence again. (Y/N) continued helping her bathe, ensuring to wash her hair that'd grown darker in color from days of going ignored. His mind flickered back to his youth as he carefully brushed out the knots, briefly recalling the times he brushed Alicent's hair. But when he thought of Alicent, he thought of Aemond, and then he thought of Luke and how frightened he must've been in his last moments, likely yearning to be in the protective embrace of his parents. His movements stilled, his heart ramming against his ribcage. 

"Arrax was torn to shreds," Rhaenyra said quietly, as if she'd read his mind. "They... They washed up onshore... I-I... Arrax's wing and-" She cut herself off with a sharp breath, her teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip and eyes fluttering close. Tears slipped down her cheeks, causing ripples in the water when they fell from her chin. "He- He... I- I saw- Oh, my sweet boy," Rhaenyra sobbed, her knees tugging toward her chest and shoulders shaking. 

(Y/N) desperately blinked the tears away and took a deep inhale, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the prickle of pain forced his mind to focus on it. A habit he'd fallen into back in his youth, back when their mother passed and his twin needed comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut until the waterworks stopped turning and opened them again.

He leaned down to press his lips against her bare, wet shoulder before doing the same to her jawline. "I know, Nyra, I know. You must weep until you cannot. You must let it out now before it can swallow you again. Our- Our boys need us, Nyra. The Realm, too. They need Queen Rhaenyra to rule and protect them." 

Rhaenyra twisted in the tub and slung her arms around his shoulders, her wet skin soaking his shirt as she embraced him. He allowed the brush to fall onto the stone floor with a clatter and slipped his arms around her as well, unable to stop himself from pulling her as close as possible. Rhaenyra continued to cry into his shoulder until the exhaustion of grief and her days out on Syrax crashed into her. He helped her out of the tub and helped her dry, offering her his shoulder to lean on when she slipped on her nightgown. 

"I..." Rhaenyra swallowed, her head coming to rest upon her pillow and heavy eyes threatening to lull her off into a deep yet much-needed slumber. "I love you." She exhaled softly, her eyes falling shut and her body growing limp against the bed.

Quietly chuckling, he kissed the space between her brows. "I love you too, Nyra."

Rhaenyra tightly clutched his hand as they waited for their eldest to be escorted into the room. He'd arrived moments prior, per the familiar cry of Vermax and the shadow that'd passed over the castle. It would've been followed by the younger Arrax if the Gods had been kind to them, a thought the two seemed to share for Rhaenyra squeezed his hand even tighter, her nails unintentionally leaving imprints in his skin. 

The sound of footsteps drew their blank, distant stares away from the fireplace and toward the two young figures who entered. Baela offered them a sympathetic tight-lipped smile, her hand coming to rest on Jace's arm comfortingly before she exited the room. It hadn't been long since they last saw Jace but still, he somehow appeared older. Perhaps spending time with a man such as Cregan Stark had allowed him to learn much and more. Still, Jace's eyes watered the moment he looked at them, and all (Y/N) saw was his little boy.

"Your Grace, My Lord," Jace began and stepped forward, clasping his hands together as his lips began to quiver. "Lady Jeyce Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale. And... Lord C-Cregan Stark... has p-promised-"

Unable to sit and watch idly as their son slowly broke down, Rhaenyra set aside her tea and stood up alongside (Y/N), their hands still tightly bound together as if worried if they parted, it'd snap them out of a dream. Jace's features contorted, his brows knitting tightly the moment his parents drew closer, almost collapsing into their arms as sobs wrecked through his body. Rhaenyra cried as well, her hand releasing her husband's to wrap around him instead, pulling her beloveds close to her body. 

"We're here, Jace," (Y/N) whispered to him, trekking his fingers through chestnut curls that resembled his side of the family so well. Jace's arm tightened around him in return, his light eyes squeezed shut and snot beginning to trickle down from his nose. There'd been few times Jace had ever sobbed in his arms after infancy. He'd always been the stronger one amongst his brothers, the more resilient one. But alas, he was still their little boy.

With Jace safely home, the funeral was held at late dusk when the moon slowly began to peek over the horizon. Rhaenyra lit the stack of wood on top of the pyre where their boy would've laid had his body been recovered and stepped back whilst Maester Gerardys spoke some funeral rites.

On the other side of the flames stood the Velaryons, amongst them Rhaena who watched with teary eyes as Jace stepped forward to toss a folded blanket that'd once belonged to Luke during his younger years. He took little Joffery into his arms afterward and the little boy tossed the wooden toy horse that Luke often played with into the flames as well. 

(Y/N) swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers digging into the fabric of the clothes Luke had been wearing the day before he departed for Storm's End. He walked with Rhaenyra toward the flames, the two parents fighting back the tears and clutching tightly onto the clothes that still held the smell of their son. Rhaenyra pushed her temple into him and exhaled shakily, pressing her hands over his so they could toss the clothes into the fire together and watch the flames hungrily eat at them. 

It was done. Their son was gone, taking a piece of their hearts with him to wherever his soul had departed. But the world stopped for no one, not even royalty, and so the incoming war continued to threaten the stability of the Realm and the lives of those in Westeros.

As much as he desired to crawl back into bed until the world ended, (Y/N) had a duty to uphold as the new King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

[guzhufuren]

QL Schedule 19.08.24-25.08.24

MONDAY

Battle of the Writers First Note of Love Takara No Vidro Cosmetic Playlover

TUESDAY

Addicted Heroin Thailand There's Love That Starts From Mistaken Identity

WEDNESDAY

I Hear The Sunspot I Saw You in My Dream

THURSDAY

Monster Next Door The On1y One Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko The Paradise of Thorns

FRIDAY

My Love Mix-Up Thailand This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans 4 Minutes The Last Time

SATURDAY

Sunset x Vibes

SUNDAY

The Loyal Pin The Trainee

starts airing soon:

20/08 There's Love That Starts From Mistaken Identity 22/08 The On1y One 22/08 The Paradise of Thorns 29/08 The Two Of Us S2 30/08 Affair 01/09 Live In Love 01/09 Meet Unexpectedly 02/09 Happy of the End 03/09 Reverse 4 You 06/09 Kidnap 07/09 The Hidden Moon 09/09 Jack & Joker 11/09 Unlock Your Love 12/09 The Time of Fever 17/09 Love Is Like a Poison (10/09 on Netflix Japan) 19/09 Smells Like Green Spirit 19/09 Chaser Game W 2 02/10 Love In The Big City 03/11 Love In The Air Koi

waiting for international release:

? Blue Canvas of Youthful Days ? Sugar Dog Life ? Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding (you can watch here with fansubs) ? Player 10 (you can watch on youtube with fansubs) ? Uranus2324 ? A Man Who Defies the World of BL S3 (you can watch here with fansubs)

[monocaelia]

atlas.

- he could only hold the world for so long, it was about time his body caved in ; aka, the two times you're reminded of his humanity. feat. gojo satoru & gn!reader genre : hurt/comfort , happy ending w.c. : 1.8k

warnings: spoilers for jjk s2 ep5 note : i hate goe joe satoru.

gojo satoru.

you didn't even need to see him to know who he is; he is the revered member of the gojo clan blessed enough to be born with both the six eyes and the infinity cursed technique and is a one in a lifetime miracle.

from the beginning of his life, gojo had been the strongest sorcerer in existence. with both blessed techniques at his will, he was near unstoppable and was worthy of shouldering the problems of jujustu society from a young age, as decided by the gojo clan.

and, for someone as blessed and impenetrable as he is, gojo had never felt the emotional strife of losing someone dear to him.

there are two times that you recall ever witnessing gojo satoru lose his composure, where you have seen the blessed one who holds the power of the gods in the palm of his hands and is always one step ahead of everyone else fall to his knees as the weight of the world finally takes its toll on his poor soul.

the first time was when getou suguru had betrayed jujutsu tech. you weren't sure of the details; you were in the middle of a mission and had returned to the news of your classmate and friend becoming a wanted criminal.

honestly, hearing it firsthand did not feel real to you. getou suguru was someone you had always admired. he was someone who not only had a powerful cursed technique, but was also a skilled fighter and knew how to use his technique to the fullest despite coming from a normal family rather than one of the prestigious families that were well-known in jujustu society.

you had shared smiles with him, stories of the crazy memories made while exorcising curses and the near-death experiences shared while on missions together.

and you knew gojo and getou were near inseparable during their time at jujutsu tech; you couldn't imagine the pain gojo was going through with the news of his one and only becoming a murderer wanted in all of jujutsu society.

you find gojo satoru alone in getou's old dorm room. it's empty; the once neat, but lived in dorm now completely void of any evidence of being lived in with the exception of a framed picture of your class left on the nightstand.

getou and gojo tower over you and ieri, but it's all smiles from the four of you. because of the small frame and the number of people in the photo, you're all squished together. though, it's not like any of you minded.

a perfect picture of youth; the most beautiful moment in life.

the frame is held in gojo's hand as he sits on getou's dorm bed. you can see his fingers clench the frame as frustration settles into his bones, before he relaxes once more.

"it's not your fault, you know," you say gently, breaking the silence and hopefully through the roaring storm that you know is brewing within gojo's head. you step into the room and join gojo on the bed; he doesn't move and he doesn't face you.

"no one saw it coming." you try to reassure him, but you know any attempts at this point are futile. gojo does not respond, a flood of memories flying by crystalline eyes as he tries to figure out when it went so wrong.

the silence is permeable as reality settles into gojo. his lips part, a shaky breath, and he's speaking again.

"i should've seen it coming," he whispers. there's a clear anger in his voice, though you know full well exactly who it's directed at. "i was his friend and i didn't even realize he was hurting alone." His voice cracks.

"i didn't even do anything to save him."

it is then that you begin to see gojo as who he is. he isn't an untouchable god who feared nothing, who had enemies that couldn't even lift a finger to hurt him if they even dared. this gojo beside you isn't an omnipotent god, he's just a kid like you; he's human. he's vulnerable, even if the elders believe otherwise, for his friends are his one and only achilles' heel and the key to his humanity.

not quite knowing the words to comfort him, you reach over to hold his hand. it isn't much, but you know firsthand that just having someone beside you to help support your pain is better than shouldering everything alone.

the tight squeeze of your hand and the quite sniffles beside you are all you need as a reminder that gojo satoru is not a god; he is only gojo satoru.

the second time gojo felt genuine fear was when he nearly lost you.

as a result of a curse that was underestimated for second-class sorcerors to take, you had become collateral for a simple mistake from the higher ups. of course, mistakes could just be that, but everyone knows better.

this was set up so they could easily dispose of you and rule your death as a mere 'accident.' the higher ups needed you gone as the deemed your existence a hinderance to gojo's full potential, a dam in the middle of the river.

lucky for you, you made quick work of the curse before collapsing with the only words you heard being a shout of your name.

the bright lights of the jujutsu high infirmary are the first thing you see when your eyes slowly flutter open. your vision is blurry and the world is still spinning as you regain consciousness. with hesitance, you slowly sit up despite your body aching and telling you to lay back down.

it is only when a firm hand presses against your chest and pushes you down do you actually do so.

crystalline blue meets your gaze. they're playful and full of youth, a pair of blue eyes that you're most familiar with. but theres a shadow of solemnity behind those bright irises and you know exactly why.

"about time you woke up," gojo speaks up, ruffling your hair with his hand. they're roughened from years of training and fighting, but there are no other blemishes that stain the purity of his hands. "i thought you finally had enough of me and decided to kick the bucket, dear." there's a light, jesting tone to his voice as he speaks. he's laughing, though you can see the redness underneath his eyes as he brushes off your near death experience as a joke.

"and leave you alone to torment the students? as if," you jab back with a smile of your own. "i wouldn't ever want to wish that on your students. fushiguro would drag me back from the dead if i left him alone with you."

gojo's bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow in a pout as you say this and you can't help but laugh a little on your own.

"but i know you'll miss me, so i won't die just yet," you reassure your white haired companion. your hand reaches over to hold his own and gives it a gentle squeeze, a reminder that you're alive and still breathing beside him as your pulse and your warmth bleed onto his own.

his hand squeezes yours tightly, as he did years ago, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he bites down onto the plush skin. his eyes aren't focused on you anymore and instead focus on anywhere but you as the reality of the situation settles into his bones.

"promise?" gojo asks, his voice a mere whisper.

he already lost one of his closest friends years ago and you witnessed that heartbreak with your own eyes as you had comforted gojo when he needed it most. you couldn't imagine how his fragile heart would break again if he had lost you just now.

despite being the strongest, you know that not being able to fully protect the ones he held close was one of gojo's biggest weaknesses as much as he tried to hide it.

but you know that you couldn't give him any empty promises knowing the work you're doing. it would only give him false hope and the both of you know that better than anyone else.

you don't answer him and instead pull his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto his skin. with a gentle tug, the hand held by gojo is pulled into his chest as he cradles your palm. his fingers intertwine with yours and your heart swells at the small action.

it is then that you meet crystalline blue once more, though this time they are unwavering as they firmly stand their ground against the hands of fate that, at any moment, could cruelly tear the two of you apart.

"don't leave me," gojo begs. "you can't leave me until the world has turned for the better, for us and for the youth of jujutsu society. i'll make it happen so..."

the once invincible sorcerer brings your hand up to his lips and he presses a kiss along your knuckles, reciprocating the act you did before.

"please, don't leave me."

gojo leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. it's soft and hesitant, but you know at this point his fear of your life nearly slipping through his fingers has caught up to him. he pulls away, only to lean down again to kiss you.

your heart flutters feeling his lips kiss yours and you can tell from the way his lips barely ghost of yours that gojo is scared you'll disappear from him if he moves the wrong way. like a warm wave easing the worries that burrow into his entire being, your hand that's free from the one held in gojo's reaches up to cup his face. your thumb caresses his cheek and bring him closer to you, reassuring him that you won't slip away from him should he kiss you too hard.

gojo pulls away from the kiss with cheeks warm and his eyes, now a calming blue that held the stars you love so much, glint with satisfaction and relief.

though, the sweet and tender moment shared between lovers is ruined the moment gojo opens his mouth again.

"don't break my promise, okay? i don't care if you die, i'll die with you and haunt you forever as punishment for dying first, okay?" your white haired boyfriend urges as he leans his forehead against you, blue now an annoyance to you as he forces you to make eye contact with him.

your hand pushes his face away with a snort, ignoring his whining complaints as you do so.

though, it's not like you would ever willingly die first. you couldn't leave gojo satoru alone, your soul couldn't bear the burden of knowing you would shatter the glass that makes gojo's heart.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 5!!!!!

Okay I promised I'd share my Splinter reference notes, so here I am! Also wanna take a moment to thank everyone reblogging the prev. parts. All the tags/notes are so sweet!!! Anyway, here's our one and only Rat Man,

Splinter Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrase: "HOOOOOT SOUP!!!"

Will yell "whoa/oh nelly!" when in a tight spot or stumbling around

Makes puns/dad jokes, and laughs at said jokes to himself

A poor liar, will skirt around the truth until you drop it

Penchant for interrupting people if he's not interested, devout user of "yada, yada", "ah, bup, bup, bup"

Verbalizes his attacks/moves, something his sons pick up on. Could be a habit picked up from his action star days, such moves include: lights off jitsu, and slow motion jitsu

Uses 2010's slang, (i.e. "totes", "chillaxed"), could see him incorrectly using up to date slang to embarrass his boys

In a group refers to his sons as "boys"

One by one will refer to his sons by their designated colors, but will pull out the full name (not nickname) if the situation is serious

Also refers to Donnie as "the funny one"

Personality:

A performer, well he is an actor after all. He knows how to captivate an audience. Splinter likes attention--something that may be connected to his strict childhood with high expectations--but he also performs for his boys. To keep them happy, but most importantly safe. This also means he keeps his true emotions tucked closely to his chest

Jovial. Despite his dark past and heavy responsibility thrust upon him at a young age, Splinter is always laughing. He finds the fun in everything

Secretive. As mentioned before, Splinter tends to keep things close to his chest. Despite this, he's a terrible liar. He'll just avoid the truth until it comes back to bite him in the ass. This makes him sometimes a little emotionally unavailable

Lazy. He always finds the easiest way to do something, and procrastinate on his responsibilities as long as possible

Vain. He's glory seeking for all the proper attention he lost in his youth. So the Lou Jitsu aspect of his life boosted his ego in irreparable ways. He also uses the identity of Lou Jitsu to escape from the idea of being stuck as a rat. Glorifying the past is way to find comfort for him

Adrenaline junkie. Part of that glory-seeking and glorification of the past manifests into him needing adrenaline to feel alive. (i.e. when he steals the tank)

Attentive and empathetic. He can be a little hare-brained when it comes to remembering the details, but he's always very attentive to his sons needs. In flashbacks he's shown to supply them with items needed for their interests (i.e. little Mikey gets art supplies), and always apologizes when he messes up (i.e. the conversation he had with Donnie). This empathy also extends to other people and animals, as he was sympathetic with Cassandra when she was lamenting about the foot clan and was immediately worried about the turtles Draxum had in his lab

Protective. He would sacrifice everything to save his sons, and he does

Miscellaneous:

His tail is Very expressive, and one of the most active parts of his body, so if you want to subtley show emotion I'd focus on that

Has a Lou Jitsu body pillow

Remembers all his stunt double's names

Snores loudly

Talented singer, can sing opera and lived next to a karaoke bar in Japan

The show he watches the most is called "Soapy Treadmill", a Japanese game show where they throw things like scorpions at people who are soapy on treadmills

Has a "do not touch!" cabinet, full of trophies, mystic artifacts, and mementos of his past

I have a List of all the mentioned Lou Jitsu movie names mentioned in S1, but I'm probably gonna wait till the end of my S2 rewatch and post it separately (it's also long too). Will link here!

I'm also gonna add a recommendation here at the end.

This is for the white and non East Asian folks. I'm not as well-versed in East Asian or Japanese culture, but Splinter is a first generation immigrant! He keeps a distance from his heritage because of the trauma of his youth, and the role Lou Jitsu probably also forced him to westernize his identity to make it more palpable to Hollywood. But it would be a disservice to sever parts of his identity, because one is uncomfortable or not knowledgeable in writing it.

For my white folks intimidated by writing a person of color because they want to get it right, research always helps. Research helps with everything!!! writingwithcolor here on tumblr actually has a lot of useful resources, here's their guideline, and a research chart one of their moderators created, which I personally found to be very helpful. I believe their ask box is closed right now, but if you ask questions in the future be nice!!!!

Anyway I'm gonna do April next :)

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Amongst the two of us

General Kirigan x princess!reader (one shot)

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Period drama misogyny, arranged marriages, arguments, angst, I’ll proofread in the morning pls sorry

Summary: The general and his wife of differentiating moral grounds make their marriage work somehow

An: This one was sitting in my drafts unfinished for so long and it was an alternate ending for another Aleksander fic which I never ended up posting but I worked on this one bc s2 darkling arose a LOT in me so oh well

This one is spoiler free for S2 :)

—

There were two sets of council meetings ever since the General had married the lady y/l/n. For one her name weighed a lot of political power, being the noble lord’s daughter, the princess it was a prestige to have that power at little palace, someone of that huge a name by the general’s side. Well the General himself never cared for the affection of it all, he was too smart the man to see past any political benefit. Y/n, in the peak of her youth had dreams and hopes for her marriage which her soon crushed one after another with every bit of unfolding of her relationship with Aleksander, coming to realise she hadn’t married an affectionate man, not even caring but someone just so powerhungry and cold he doesn’t think twice to bend his morals. Is what y/n thought of him coming to know so more and more of him but remained not so phased after a while, a year into the marriage she would just look back thinking how foolish she it was to expect anything of the man she married.

Yet she thought it worked just fine, if she truly meant to marry for love she might’ve had a summer fling, elope with some stable boy and call it love to be living in some cottage far away…but no, she was destined for duties more than that. She had her own first army council at the little palace, the king’s army. But the king never bothered attend. The Lady Kirigan, the princess, was considered capable with the set of officers she had for most decisions.

Your husband doesn’t share a bed with you but at least you’re the head of first army council meetings. Your husband rarely shares any intimate moments with you but at least you get to see him from camp base to camp base. And of course the most infamous facade of being the pair that does share affection for each other in the glamour dinner parties amongst drunk lords and ladies who believe it just fine.

Honestly on the political front the first army felt more liberated and open with less of the general’s inputs given he wouldn’t join their meetings anymore ever since Lady y/n was placed there neither were the first army officials…mortals rather, allowed in any second army business. “Leave, the room.” Too much for uninterrupted business, the general barged into the meeting room where Lady y/n’s first army officials were having an ongoing discussion given the maps and the reports laid out on the table. “I have some important matters I need to discuss with my lady wife.” He announced as the matters seemed to be quite the work regarding, given he had a letter or document scroll in his hands and it was the general himself who visited.

With a short nod from y/n the officers left the room leaving the two alone, y/n did feel a tad affront on him just barging in through her ongoing meeting well aware he wouldn’t have entertained it if it was the other way around but she wished for whatever matter it was to get done with sooner so she chose not to speak on it “What is it?”

Aleksander placed the letter in his hand on the table for her to read, as she picked it up he spoke “Its a letter to Lord Eldon, a dear friend of your father’s who’s not so particularly fond of me, we need his aid for more men by the Ravaka front since the second army is occupied by the fold but he wouldn’t comply if the letter went from me” Aleksander let out a short scoff on the fact that some lord of a land that covers barely about 5 villages would be distasteful to him, the general, the shadow summoner. But in his opinion these noble lords were so petty about their allies and Aleksander knew he wasn’t that friendly “I need you to sign that letter.”

Y/n had her eyes fixated on the letter reading through till the end, the letter written in a first person way with wordings seeming as if she did write it herself “Did you write this?” She asked looking up from the letter.

“No.” Aleksander replied flatly, surely the general wouldn’t be as free as to go about writing framed letters himself.

“Well next time you feel like writing a letter on by behalf know that I wouldn’t be this straight forward to a dear friend of my father’s who has know me my entire life…” her voice trailed off with a suppressed chuckle that Aleksander didn’t even seem to check the phrasings of the letter once.

“Alright then you write it yourself” He spoke sliding a blank paper across the table to her “Make it as authentic as you’d like.”

“I could write it but I am not going to sign it.” Y/n spoke with sincerity but she was calm to lay it out. “I don’t condone it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aleksander said raising a brow quite phased that she would choose a decision revolting his.

“If I sign the letter Lord Eldon will surely send his soldiers given he is to watch over a larger estate with his handful of army it would be unwise so no…”

“That is exactly why I want you to sign it. If the letter is from you he will send his men-did-did you not hear me correctly the first time?” He asked budding quite misinterpreting what she meant to say as whole.

“I heard you just right and I am saying no.” Y/n still had a calm yet firm tone of her voice despite his obvious annoyance “Lord Eldon isn’t a sovereign lord his army is the third half of the Royal army…for him to send his soldiers, the domesticity of the people of his land would be compromised. I am not going to sign the letter and bind him with a moral obligation.”

“The domesticity of the people?” He repeated her words with a taunting amusement “You are crossing unnecessary lengths to spite me…just sign it.” Aleksander sighed not considering her genuine people caring intentions behind it.

“Oh I surely do have other things than to be free enough to spite you, General.” Y/n said crossing her arms to a firm stance “Should Lord Eldon send his men for you the crime, the looting, the disruption will increase in his lands with less men on patrol, when he doesn’t even have enough as it is. I am sorry but I cannot sign it.”

“Don’t you understand? This is important. We need those men and it requires just a mere signature of yours!” He exclaimed, very agitated as he let out an exaggerated sigh rubbing his eyes to get over the unwanted annoyance.

“It’s as if I am talking to a wall…you aren’t even trying to understand.” Y/n spoke shaking her head, Aleksander truly believed that y/n’s barrier for the sign was not the honour and morals she abided by but…pettiness. “If you need the soldiers so bad then write the letter yourself. Sign it and send it as yourself the general because frankly ‘we’ don’t need his men…the second army does, you do.”

“Y/n you don’t get to—“

“Lady y/l/n.” She corrected him mid sentence shrugging her shoulders, he wasn’t on first name terms with his own wife even the marriage was quite formal and political, should he believe that he had the authority over her to by using her first name in disdain she’d rather prove him wrong.

“Y/l/n.” He corrected his words with gritted teeth “Sign it. Be done with it.” Aleksander was running out of patience to convince or put forward any debate whilst she remained calm as ever as if he stance his words had no effect on her.

Y/n exhaled and she took the paper in her hands walking across the table to him, she looked at the letter one time as though she were considering signing it right before she tore it apart in his face and let the pieces of paper fall to the floor “I won’t.”

Aleksander huffed, he stood as if that action did not phase him, something he expected at the start of their conversation “It is almost humorous and immature to see how low you are willing to steep just to get a rise out of me.”

All of this over a sign…y/n said in her head yet she knew this conversation would only go further and further to no end. Aleksander was so head strong out of all she tried to explain it why she wouldn’t sign the letter he stood the same ground, “Ah yes of course my favourite hobby!” She said sarcastically rolling her eyes as she attempted to walk past him.

Aleksander stopped y/n in her tracks holding her by her upper arm, taken aback by this sudden action she tried to maintain her distance yet he gave her a firm tug towards him to sound more sincere “You might think you are so much above me with your moral grounds and your honour, silver spoon fed princess y/n, but you stand here, at the little palace, taking your council meetings as the general’s wife…and that’s what bothers you so much doesn’t it?” He sneered “It hurts your petty conscience…however you put it y/n you are not much different than me—you married me.”

“You know Aleksander, I did not have a say in this. It was announced I was to be married to the general…you. Before our wedding I didn’t even know what you looked like, my beliefs had nothing to do with our marriage my father simply married me off to a stranger on the king’s orders. You are just too arrogant to be around.” so much for the spoiled princess. Y/n replied bluntly as she looked at him and he seemed lost at words letting go of his grip on her arm. He instantly regretted his phrasing aware that must’ve stung her, he was not one to apologise but before he could even show his slight remorse for the words he chose she was already walking out her office, leaving him alone…a frequent sight for him. Sight he didn’t want to admit to but hated being used to, her walking away.

—

A distasteful marriage had both Aleksander and Y/n bound to societal presence of being a rather joyous couple, hand in hand and smiling at the guests of the gala. One of the king’s many monthly amusements. Gather Royal gossiping and as Aleksander put it, arse kissing guests time to time for fine dining despite of what goes on within the country. Y/n was raised amongst these dinner parties of fake smiles and niceties, just assuming her smiles wouldn’t be as fake around her own husband was something she hadn’t planned. But there they were, the general and his wife, y/n graciously laughing at his comments as they talked to the Royal guests, arm in arm as if it wasn’t mere hours ago that two of them had an argument over council matters. “Ah Y/n!” One of the ladies from the Royal guests called her as she approached her and Aleksander. “General” the lady nodded respectfully. “You look lovely tonight princess-or should I say lady general now?” The lady commented as she let out a cheerful laugh.

“You wound me by addressing me with titles when you’re quite literally my favourite!” Y/n exclaimed with a courteous smile, “You are on first name basis hmm? Don’t insult our bond with titles!” Truthfully y/n didn’t even remember the name of the Lady who so cheerfully greeted her and Aleksander, she remembered her face from a few of royal dinners and galas from earlier and that was about enough for a small talk. However the ‘first name basis’ was a taunt to Aleksander which he must’ve registered the way his lips fell into a thin smile to seem as if he wasn’t phased.

“They say marriage changes people quite a lot but you two just as gallant as your wedding day!” The lady exclaimed.

“Why thank you that is very polite.” Aleksander spoke with a short nod, he was never the one to get so much involved in any of the small talks it seemed his wife was quite the master with remembering a lot of details about almost every royal guest she did most the talking for him while he’d stand there with small courtesies.

“Surely! And for a marriage to change you it requires quite a lot of the couple to be so present don’t you agree?” Y/n said to the lady in such a subtle manner though her words weighed heavy sly comments directed to Aleksander.

“Oh you are so right! As workaholic as the general is I imagine it is difficult to get his time.” The lady joked unaware of the original scenario of their marriage being worse than that. Y/n didn’t get his time, his thoughts or attention outside of these dinner parties anyways. She never took it up with Aleksander of course, it was bound to be met with disdain. Yet it didn’t stomach her well how getting Aleksander’s time out of his ‘workaholic’ schedule seemed something difficult to the lady and not y/n’s time. She was on the first army council herself and worked just as much…nothing new.

“Happens so often…” y/n’s voice trailed off as she chuckled at what seemed to be a light hearted mention of her husband’s businesses to the lady, “you’d be surprised” y/n added softly for Aleksander to hear. And he did, he’d been hearing these comments and taunts quite a few times in the course of that entire evening.

He thought maybe it had something to do with the correlation of their argument earlier, wether it was or wasn’t his patience wore so thin. After the dinner of snide remarks it almost seemed endless to Aleksander. Once it was over he walked back to y/n’s chambers with her, they left these events together so it would seem that they had the same bedchamber. However when y/n got inside hers thinking Aleksander would walk further down the hall to his, he walked inside the room with her. Y/n simply turned around when he entered alongside her before she could begin to ask the reason for it he shut the door behind him and stood afar exhaling “What was all that about?” He spoke and it seemed so demanding.

“What?” She asked truly clueless, she didn’t think those comments would actually get to him, most of those she most probably forgot even making.

“You kept on taunting me the entire evening!” He said crossing his arms trying his best to maintain his composure yet his body language was so angry and frustrated.

“Oh did I now?” Y/n asked tilting her head trying to go though some of the conversations in her head where he must’ve felt that she had done that, maybe.

“Y/n it-“

“Uh?” Y/n interrupted him mid sentence as he used her first name.

Aleksander spoke further regardless “It was disrespectful to me.”

“Are you going to have another one of your tantrums again? I did not have enough wine for this…” y/n sighed with her subtle composure and if only irritated Aleksander more and more. However much he tried to result her misconduct to her she seemed to be treating it so trivially.

“I am serious.” He said flatly and brisk of frustration lingered his tone.

“So am I. I truly did not drink enough to go through this again” Y/n said raising her brows at him, she gathered that if she reacted and engaged with him seriously, it wasn’t as if he was going to listen secondly he was awaiting for her to react the way he wanted her to so he could tell her how much of an inconvenience to she was to him. To his plans.

“You can’t just ignore me with sarcasm!” Aleksander exclaimed and he felt as though he would loose his temper so he exhaled taking in a breath for that situation to not arise, he wanted to prove his point across and it wouldn’t happen if he acted rather harshly or she wouldn’t be open to listen to him “I am your husband-why don’t I get to call you by your name?”

“Why? Lady y/l/n, lady general, lady wife doesn’t suffice?” She replied leaning on the table in the large bed chambers where he still stood by the doors.

“I address you with titles when you are surrounded and in meetings out of respect but amongst the two of us—“

“There is no amongst the two of us!” Y/n said this time as the subtlety of her tone leaving her. It was beyond her understanding how he his thought process counted her the harbinger of their unpleasant marriage. She threw her hands in the air pointing this to him “This might just be one of the few times where we’re ‘amongst the two of us’ behind closed doors and we are arguing! That’s the most you see for us.”

“Why are you so strongly opinionated towards me? I have never wronged you in any way!” He said exclaiming as he walked a few steps towards her both of their tones so above decency as their conversation got heated.

“Me? I am strongly opinionated? My husband doesn’t even share the same bed as me and you are saying that? Under different circumstances you wouldn’t have married me I’m not your like am I? I am not grisha—had it not been for your political status you wouldn’t even have this conversation. Me! It’s me-I am the one who has never wronged you yet I despise you that much.” Y/n spoke as her voice cracked by the end of it, she had went through this in her head a lot. Everything she could be doing right for him to stop being as cold to her until he drove her to stop believing in them.

Aleksander took a long pause before he spoke, he had never realised that this is what she’d been feeling due to him but it wasn’t is intention. “You…you don’t despise me.” He spoke looking away from him almost as if he couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Alright…sure! You can say anything you want to have the last word of this argument but it does not change the truth!” She spoke frustrated just then Aleksander leaped towards her grabbing the sides of her arms and pinned her to the wall, y/n just started at him blankly just registering how fast that had happened.

“You want to know the truth y/n? The truth is I am exhausted to see you disregard my love for you over and over because you do not fathom it. I have always hated those galas and dinner parties yet you make me await them so I could get to be close to you, if only for the mask of being a happy couple but I so miserably await being close to you. It is difficult to even work around you knowing out of everything I could want of the whole world I want you, your love and it is the one thing I can’t have—you don’t deserve my infuriating love, the darkness of it and had I not pushed you away you would’ve loved me like someone entitled to. I don’t want that entitled, dutiful love…I want it yours. Wholly yours. But it is getting difficult to push you away..” he finished as the two of them gazed into each other’s eyes for quite the long moment. This was the most close they had been and neither seemed to move.

“Aleksander…” finally y/n said softly as her gaze softened towards him. Comprehending everything he just said. His expressions were truly taken aback when she said his name, for someone wanting to be that long buried part of himself, “Kiss me.” She looked at him unfaltering, as he pulled her into him from the waist letting go of her arms and crashed his lips onto hers. Such strong desire of a pushed away love, heavy, unfathomable, messy love. Y/n wrapped her arms around him as the two of them kissed their wearies away.

—

I’m going to write more w s2 plots so let me know if you want to be tagged or request something <333

Hi pls if you’re supposed to be studying or doing anything future you would hate you for being here instead of finishing that please go do it I am in fail girl summer rn and I regret it I love u