#I cannot describe the things these men are doing to each other's bodies
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I feel like it's important to point out that I made this post while i was still pretty early on, around 1/4th through the novel, and somehow it has managed to become exponentially more gay since.
I am losing my mind.
#I cannot describe the things these men are doing to each other's bodies#this is NO JOKE the gayest not-gay novel i have ever read and you cannot convince me thr author isnt doing it on purpose#and im still only barely past halfway through#i cannot imagine what they will do next#jinjae#the s classes that i raised#my s class hunters#the s ranks that i raised#han yoojin#sung hyunjae
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Nitro Chiral April Fools’, 2005 - 2021
Nitro Chiral recently announced that they will probably not create any new content for April Fools’ in the future. I remember really looking forward to this every year, so I was a bit sad to hear that...! They mentioned that they might change this decision again some day, so we will just have to wait and see... To remember all of the fun jokes they’ve created throughout the years I wanted to make a fun compilation of all their previous April Fools’ jokes (or at least the ones I remember and took screenshots of). Maybe someone already posted something similar, but I had a lot of fun looking at these old pictures again!
2005
Togainu no Chi 'Vischio Jack'. This was just one month after Togainu no Chi was released! Nitro Chiral’s website was filled with Arbitro’s hobbies. He announced that the next game will be called ‘Makeinu no Chi’ which means ‘blood of the losers’... The new main visual also shows all of them bleeding from their noses lol.
Some interesting new items... the Shiki body pillow?
2006
A year later Arbitro hijacked the official website once more and comments on each Lamento character. He seems to be a fan of Konoe but the others aren't his type... This blog describes it in greater detail (Japanese only). Second part of the website teases the Togainu no Chi fighting game (咎狗の血 餓狗 Mark of the Dogs). I kind of wish they really made this game because the description of it sounds fun.
2007
Lamento Love Love Gakuen, which was later made into a real drama CD also started as an April Fools' joke! Asato is Konoe’s childhood friend in this, Rai the student council president and Bardo’s a health education teacher.
You can still listen to some of the audio clips from the original page here! The plot doesn’t seem much different than the real drama CD they ended up making later.
2009
Nitro Chiral mentioned they couldn’t do anything for April Fools’ 2008, but they were back in 2009 with..one of the weirder ones. They posted a teaser of their new game, ‘Sweet Potchari’ which literally means ‘sweet chubby’ and as the name suggests, they posted art of all of the sweet pool characters, but this time they’re chubby.
You could check the profile description of each character and Kunihito’s description mentions that he’s very charming and “both men and women love him” lol. I unfortunately don’t have any high quality versions of these wallpapers anymore. Someone also recorded the voice lines, though listen to it at your own risk.
2010
This time Nitro Chiral announces a new project called 'YO! Akira'. It’s Togainu no Chi except all of the characters are replaced by mannequins and they’re kinda terrifying. They made videos in which they re-created part of the opening and the game, which someone actually saved and uploaded, so you can still watch it here...! The whole thing is a parody of Japanese sketch comedy series 'Oh! Mikey!!' which focuses on an American family living in Japan, but all the characters are played by mannequins.
This blog has some more pictures of what the website looked like. The day after this Nitro Chiral made a blog post about maybe spending too much time creating these April Fools’ jokes, but it seems like they had fun! They also had no idea what to do with the mannequins after this.
2012
I think they skipped 2011 because I cannot find any information about it, so let’s move on to 2012! Arbitro took over the Nitro+Chiral website again and changed it to Bitro+Chiral...
You could play this short visual novel on the website in which Arbitro introduced his new product line-up. A hataki (feather duster) shaped like Konoe’s tail, a life-sized Akira statue made of chocolate, Onnushi-sama's curry, and blue butter which is supposed to decrease you appetite so you don't have to eat anymore. After looking at these last two pictures I think I don’t feel hungry anymore...
This is also the year DRAMAtical Murder was released, so they changed the website too! Now it’s DRAMAtical Mother, which is of course referencing the Mother series (Earthbound). You can find some more screenshots and information here.
Aoba got his own Twitter account too this year, which someone also archived here! The Twitter account actually still exists but I believe they locked it after April Fools’ ended.
2013
This year they focused on DRAMAtical Murder too! They transformed the website into Junkshop Heibon's webstore (the store Aoba works at in the game). It feels kind of nostalgic...
That same year they also released a radio show in which Aoba and Mizuki work for Midorijima Radio Station. They invite Koujaku, Noiz, Clear, and Mink as special guests. This has been uploaded and fan translated, so I definitely recommend checking it out here! They also ended up selling this as a CD later.
2014
This is one I remember very well because I remember playing the short game they released. It's called ‘Osu-Boys!! ~Ikemen Ryoujoku ☆ Paradise~’ and it's a short visual novel which features the four protagonists, except they're all really clumsy and end up in some really embarrassing situations... I am guessing the artstyle is supposed to be similar to KyoAni’s Free! anime.
I don’t think I can show the full pictures here because the CGs of this game are quite NSFW, but you can probably still find them somewhere online. Aoba worked at an adult goods shop in this game though, nice new job (?). Unlike the browser games, this one could be downloaded, so some people probably still have it.
2015
Arbitro once again returns and opens his own 'hentai' museum.... yeah. Someone uploaded the theme song they made for the website, you can find it here. I believe it’s supposed to be a parody of ‘Atami Hihokan’ (an adult museum).
The website shows a map of the museum and its facilities, some more pictures can be found here. I think the art of the mascots is pretty cute this time...
You could also play this minigame on the website which also featured the four protagonists. There’s still a video of someone playing through the game, so definitely check it out if you’re interested. The artstyle has a bit of a retro feel.
2016
This year the website turned into the 'Raira-ryuu honpo' official homepage, an art school that specializes in the traditional art of ...boys love. All of the characters are drawn like famous Ukiyo-e paintings.
All of the ones above are Tōshūsai Sharaku paintings, so it was pretty easy to find which ones they were referencing!
They also re-drew all of the game covers too and the descriptions of the games were pretty funny. Midorijima was transformed into a big red-light district and the people who lived there were kicked out and are now living in poverty. I hope you’re surviving, Aoba...
This time there was also a flash game which could be played on the website, a shunga (erotic painting) puzzle. You can find all of these pictures here. Like the previous year they are heavily censored and not really NSFW.
2017
This time the April Fools’ joke is a parody of 'The World of GOLDEN EGGS', a Japanese animation series set in an American-style fictional town, except this time it’s called ‘BOYs LOVE Nitro+CHiRAL’. I’m assuming most people who have been in the fandom for some time remember this one. They created a short YouTube video series and it had English subs. You can still find the videos if you look for them on YouTube so please watch them...! It’s all worth it for Konoe singing ‘I’m in Blue’ and the Rhyme fight.
Youji is always the victim of these awkward conversations... Some more pictures here! You can find the YouTube videos by just searching for the title of the series mentioned above.
2019
After 2017 they stopped updating their website on April Fools’, probably because they were busy working on Slow Damage, but in 2019 they did post some extra illustrations. Not the most happy kind of illustrations, featuring the protagonists and Naito-kun apologizing because they couldn’t do anything for April Fools’ that year...
2021
Unfortunately this is the last one! 2021 is the year Slow Damage was released, so it makes sense the final April Fools' joke focuses on them. It's called 'Warau Euphoria', which means ‘laughing euphoria’. It’s a reference to Japanese series 'The Laughing Salesman', so they're also drawn in a similar artstyle.
The website has a warning that you need to be over 35 years old to enter instead of the usual 18+ warning lol. They also got Towa’s voice actor to record a couple of new lines on the webpage, if you click here you can still listen to a recording of it.
I’m a bit sad they might not do any of this stuff anymore in the future, but I’m also glad many people recorded videos of the old websites and minigames so we can still enjoy them even now. I couldn’t include every single screenshot in this blog post, so I tried my best to link other pages with more information.
I had a lot of fun checking out their website every year and I really appreciate the effort they put into all of this. I might update this blog with some additional info later!
#nitro chiral#slow damage#lamento#lamento beyond the void#sweet pool#togainu no chi#chiral#nitroplus#april fools#dmmd#dramatical murder
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[“It can be difficult for people raised as girls to express rage when we’ve been taught from very early on that it is in our best interest to suppress our anger. It is culturally acceptable for women to be sad, not angry. In one study on gender, anger, and the workplace, the participants conferred higher status to sad female employees than to angry ones. For men the opposite was true. Men, particularly white men, are rewarded and forgiven for their anger, while women are penalized and blamed.
Ceci, the mestiza paralegal, now lives in Los Angeles with her husband, five-year-old son, and twenty-two-year-old stepdaughter. She described herself using the exact language of a woman who was taught by the culture not to value or express her anger: “I’m a people pleaser. I don’t rock the boat. I go along with everything, do what people tell me.” This is the path of being a good girl, a good woman, and eventually a good mother. Lifelong gendered learning teaches people raised to be women to push down anger and any feelings in the “sub-anger” ballpark, such as annoyance, irritation, and frustration. I imagine this emotional push-down like the carnival game whack-a-mole. Each time an uncomfortable or unpleasant anger-related feeling pops up—whack!—women automatically bang it with a big-headed mallet, sending it back beneath the surface.
Like the rage itself, this game of anger whack-a-mole is an international phenomenon for women. In Korea, there is a culture-related anger syndrome called hwa-byung. It translates literally to “illness of fire” and mostly affects working-class middle-aged housewives, who have chronically suppressed anger stemming from strict gender roles, gender-based inequality, and patriarchal family structures. In traditional Latin American folk medicine, it is believed that holding onto certain emotions can cause physical illness. In Northeast Brazil, the term engolir sapos translates to “swallowing frogs,” and is mostly used by women to refer to the suppression of anger and irritation, and the pressure to tolerate unfair treatment without complaint.
Cheryl, the Black civil rights lawyer who internalizes her mom rage, is practiced at playing whack-a-mole with her anger: “I’m good at repressing things. So, a little problem, I repress it, and it gets packed on top of all the other things that make me mad, until there’s no way to untangle it. It’s just this huge tangle of anger that I’m trying to disassociate from all the time.” In our present-day culture of busy, intensive motherhood, stuffing down unpleasant emotions can be a matter of practicality. Minutes are a precious resource, and airing every frustration is a time expense that modern mothers cannot afford. Emails must be sent, dinner needs to get into bellies, and bodies need to snuggle under covers. But the perceived time-saver of the Emotional Whack-a-Mole phase is a mirage. Every time a mom suppresses her angry feelings, as she’s been taught to do her entire life, she is pushing them onto an ever-growing pile of anger inside her. Eventually, the pile will topple.”]
minna dubin, from mom rage: the everyday crisis of modern motherhood, 2023
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In my lit theory clas we discussed a certain key in which all literature (which is also a part of the gay&lesbian theory, one of the newer schools of thought in this field) could be read, and that is a so called homotext. A homotext is a text in which there is no need to have a homosexaul/romantic character appear – the most important aspect is if the figure „speaking” to us through the text is homosexual/romantic one (a figure speaking through the text is not necessarily the narrator, nor the author, but I simply do not want to turn this post into a lit theory lecture). All we need to know now is that this figure must appear to be closely woven into the text, and try to communicate with its recipients (the readers) through so called secret signs. To be able to discover this figure and its secret language we need to be extremely careful and meticulous during our readings, to try to uncover the mystery and solve what is almost a riddle.
The theory of a homotext lists 5 signs we need to look for (I’m keeping the male-centric language, because it pertains to the books I’m going to discuss later):
Male body described in a peculiar manner. It means that the body might be very improtant, or described in great detail, or be the focus of the story, or be very different (extremely ugly or extremely beautiful, disfigured, unearthly, unhuman, not in keeping with the story etc. It would depend on each specific text, I imagine).
Eros and Thanatos – Love and Death – must be linked together somehow in the story.
A love triangle consisting of 2 men and 1 woman must appear. What is important (apprently) is that the men never consumate their own desires (there is no sex or love affair in the usual sense of the word) between them.
The action of the story moves at some point from a center to outskirts/peripheries. It means hiding, or abadonement, or a mystery disappearence etc.
The two men in question must share some secret reading between them – a language that only they two understand, or reading a book together, or one teaching something to the other etc. Something that pertains to reading and is specific to them only.
Because I was already in my D’Artagnan Romances insanity era by the time I was studying this, I began to look at the trilogy through the homotext lens and you might be either surprised or delighted, but the relationship between Athos and Aramis fulfils every point on that list and then some. Here goes:
1. Dumas did not really describe his characters in great detail, but he did describe some of their features, sometimes in such a great detail it comes off as a surprise to readers. Because I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why would we need all that he says about Athos’ beautiful hands, and handsome, noble face if we don’t even actually learn his name. Yet he describes the hands and nobility radiating from Athos as if his life depended on it. Aramis, on the other hand, has a bit more attention focused on his appearance, and for a reason, since he’s the pretty one. So much so that many adaptations only focus on that, because Aramis is also so many other things, but! He is described as short, strongly built and beautiful. There is also a great amount of instances of his blushing in the first book, or of his biting his lip in the third one (to say nothing of his habit of pinching his ears so that they are read, and putting his hands upwards so that they look white, or of his almond paste he uses to make himself look, again, pale and beautiful. He is extremely foused on his appearence). He is, on the whole, percieved through the way he looks to the world, which is deceptive to the readers (and his fellow characters), because while he may look angelic, his nature is decidedly more sinister. Another amazing detail – which @widevibratobitch made me aware of in her amazing tags one day – is that, being a man in a certain epoch and place, Aramis was all but required to sport a mustache; but his’ is very small and thin (and he kept it that way even when the fashion changed, it was mentioned in Twenty Years After if I recall properly), which points again in the same direction: Aramis is a man, and does a lot of typically manly things like being a soldier, being a priest and so on. But he is also feminine-coded, and in such a way that it must have been obvious to anyone who knew him: ’Aramis, you know,’ continued Athos, ‘is naturally cold, and then he is always involved in intrigues wih women.’
2. Eros and Thanatos, linked together, are what plagues Athos from the very beggining of the first book (even if we don’t know this at first, there are signs: mostly in the fact that he does not have a mistress and is a melancholy drunk etc.), and that is the easiet point to make. But there are more. First of all, they all are linked with death by profession, but only Aramis and Athos became Musketeers because they killed someone, or believed they killed someone. Their new paths in life are therefore marked by both Eros and Thanatos – the women they were besotted with and the subsequent deaths they caused. Neither of them has a lover is what we believe at first, because Athos truly does not have anyone and Aramis plainly states he is following in his footsteps (lying through his teeth, of course). There is also another thing: while in world of the novel d’Artagnan must have learned all of his friends’ true names, presumably once he became the lieutenant, the readers were kept in the dark right until the moment d’Artagnan observes the rendez-vous beetwen Aramis and madame de Longueville. We learn his christian name is Rene through her lips (Eros), and d’Artagnan’s ears (Thanatos, since that was the decisive moement in their relationship and shifted d’Artagnan from fondness to disdain); not to mention the name itself means born again, which is as much a jab at his life and profession, as a thing linking him with death (Aramis is the only one who kills with pleasure, and one could argue intrigues – at times resulting in very violent outcomes – are his pastime). I find it interesting, that in the second book (which is when the relationship between them both starts to get truly interesting) Athos likewise has begun a new life, and that new life means for him an increased acquaintance with Aramis, with whom he stayed in contact, while the contact with Porthos and d’Artagnan was either severed or lost altogether.
3. This is arguably the funniest point on that list: Aramis is a lover of Marie de Rohan, duchess de Chevreuse, ever since the beggining of the novels, which comes about very quickly, and is even a source of amusement (plus a spiritus movens) – Athos meanwhile disdains women. But in Twenty Years After we learn that he has gotten a son, and then we learn that Raoul’s moter is Marie de Chevreuse. With whom he slept because he thought she was a man at first, but that does not change the fact Marie is the woman in this equation, linking Aramis and Athos together, linking them even more than what is needed in the theory, since they both slept with her. There is also a smaller instance of Aramis repeating the very words madame de Longueville told him at the beggining of the book to Athos at the end of it (yes, it’s a political statement, but what we focus on is that Dumas chose to repeat this phrase between two lovers and put them in an exchange of two-perhaps-lovers).
4. So we all know that at the end of the first book Aramis takes some sudden trip to Lorraine and hen he up and disapears and then becomes a priest, and Athos inherits a property and leaves Paris as well, if in less mysterious circumstances. But how does this move the plot if it happens at the end of the novel? Well, in my opinion, it moves the plot to recenter it in the second book with a much richer configuration. The whole of the first book is so to speak through d’Artagnan’s gaze, and in terms of reading and getting to see the story develop it is rather constraining. Twenty Years After – not to mention this silent, 20 years long, break they took – allows the character more movement, and it creates new paths their relations ar taking. Aramis and Athos have both moved away from the capital, and it allowed them more room for growth together – which is why they are now frondists together and honestly, in no book of the three but this one is their relationship so fully developed, folly portrayed and so interesting to discover. And in terms of just Aramis, his life changing from the king’s bodyuard to a priest (so from a sort-of public life to a more private one, moving to the outskirts of the material world) is what allows them to build his character in the third volume, which resonates with Athos’ story a little bit, because his status as a bishop with realistic expectations ofbecoming a cardinal later in life moves him a little bit closer to Athos’ status as an aristocrat.
5. This one might be a stretch, but I don’t care: they are the only two of the four who speak Latin. (But also! In Twenty Years After they exchange letters d’Artagnan is not privy to – they are even kept from him on purpose – and these letters are secret, because they are rebels.)
#go ana analyze your favourite novels now#the three musketeers#twenty years after#the viscount of bragelonne#aramis#athos#ad i did NOT include quotes to back up my reasoning because 1 it already took me 3 days to finish & 2. what are you a tumblr post police?
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From The Tides [Part 5]
summary: as you do your best to avoid Aemond Targaryen, you realize you cannot avoid everyone in the castle you distrust. To your dismay a tourney is announced and your luck with avoiding the silver hair prince runs out (8k)
pairings: aemond targaryen x reader, (platonic) lucerys velaryon x reader
warnings: none except Aemond and the reader enjoying hating each other a little too much, lots of foreshadowing to the next chapter if you look close enough...
notes: sorry for not posting for like 2 weeks?? my personal life has been so busy and I've had my spring break all of this week. I've also starting working on a novel so was focusing on that instead of the some fics (don’t worry I literally have no plans to stop writing for hotd hahah)
“Most ladies in the court do not like my friends,” Helaena commented airily besides you from where she sat in the gardens. During the month that followed your interaction with Aemond Targaryen you had scarcely seen him, but had seen much of his sister.
Helaena was right in her words but some bugs would not scare you off. “I am not like most ladies, princess,” you smiled softly in her direction. Today the sun was beating down hotter than usual and it was the shade of the large tree you were under that prevented you from sweltering this afternoon.
Helaena only hummed half heartedly in agreement. In the past weeks you had discovered many things. Most of all, Helaena was kind and unlike her brothers in every way, but was nearly always in her own head. Seeing the relaxed nature of her body right now made you think this was not a truly terrible thing.
“Dragons clash and threads will rip again,” she whispered under her breath as her spider crawled up her arm. You only partly listened to her knowing after a near month that you did not have the knowledge to understand her words at times like these. Suddenly she seemed to fall out of a trance and looked up at you with a radiant smile. “Are you excited for the tourney, my lady?”
And here you were nearly feeling relaxed. Apparently, these tourneys could get violent, if the words you heard were true enough. Jace and Luke were set to compete and you were everything but excited. “It is all new to me, Princess,” you said instead with a weary smile and hoped she could not tell. “I hear it will be quite grand.” There was no other words in your vocabulary to describe what the tourney is set to be like.
Of course you knew about the tourney. It had been some months since Queen Rhaenyra’s reign had begun and the civil war had ceased. With Jace’s nameday this week it was an easy enough decision to host a tourney. A show of unity in the house of the dragon and a new age of strength, her Grace had said. Even Consort Daemon had agreed.
You only thought of your friends competing and who they might face. You had seen Jace and Luke train and while the two had made a shocking amount of progress, slowly becoming warriors under Daemon’s wing, it did not change the fact there were always stronger men. These thoughts were best kept to yourself.
“Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys will be competing!” Helaena recalled brightly, combing the grass below her palms with her fingers. “And the feasts after the tourneys are always the most wonderful part according to my mother.”
There was a certain warmth Helaena possessed when she spoke of Lady Alicent, which silently always made you ask yourself if she was as wicked and scheming as Daemon claimed. Your Queen seemed to look for her at times in between council meetings and Helaena spoke nothing but kind things of her mother. Was this the same woman who had secretly called Jace and Luke bastards for years? Was this the Queen who betrayed the rightful heir?
A slight shadow loomed over both of you, obstructing the shade.
“Mother,” Helaena greeted as she looked past your shoulder. Sure enough, when you craned your neck to look behind you there Lady Alicent was draped in green silks. The only difference between the silks she wore now was that they were not so dark but a lighter green that nearly made her look younger than she was.
Alicent smiled warmly at her daughter and did not yet seem to acknowledge you. “Your brother has told me the children have just left the Septa from their lessons.”
A question seemed to linger in the hot summer air, asking Helaena if she wanted to go and see her sons and daughter. She must have as Helaena got up from the grass, her movements as airy and angelic as she seemed to be most days. “I will see you before the tourney, won’t I?” she smiled at you, already knowing your answer. There was something lively yet relaxing about Princess Helaena and you had not refused her company yet.
“I would hope so, Princess.”
She had grinned, her smile toothy and joyful as she moved to kiss her mother on the cheek before walking from the gardens.
“I have long since wanted to speak to you but you always seem so occupied,” Alicent said as you walked side by side with her. Your silence had her glancing at you with uncertainty before she seemed to push through whatever was on her mind. “You are rightfully occupied, of course. I believe by now anyone in the court can see her Grace trusts you explicitly.”
“I serve Queen Rhaenyra to the best of my abilities,” you said rather monotonously. What was her intent? You looked at her with scrutiny. “I am loyal to her.”
Her steps might have faltered if it were not for the years of being Queen teaching Alicent how to hide shock. “I see Daemon has gotten to you,” she noted, bemused. If she noticed your hardened gaze as you both walked up the stairs to where her rooms were, she did not make it known. “I have nothing to gain that has not already been given to me by Rhaenyra,” she cast a look your way, almost begging you to see the truth of it. “She could have killed me, imprisoned me, exiled me, and done that and worse to my children, but she did not. There were… missteps, guided by the pride and, perhaps, fear of young men, but Queen Rhaenyra has forgiven it all.”
You moved over the words she used, especially missteps. When you both approached the chambers she had been moved to some months ago, you noticed the man in silver armor again. Ser Cole was Alicent’s sworn protector when she was Queen and he was the man who your Queen refused to allow to train Jace and Luke. The only acknowledgement you gave him when you passed by through the doors to Alicent’s rooms was narrowed eyes.
You did not like him and you could not trust her.
“I had tea brought up for us,” Alicent informed you, gesturing for you to sit across from her by the windows. Reluctantly, you sat down. “I have heard you enjoy the rose blend.”
Making a sound of acknowledgement you thanked her in a murmur. The rose tea was the most appeasing of all the ones you had since living in the Red Keep. A servant brought you one in the morning every day before you went to Queen Rhaenyra to ready her. “I enjoy it in the mornings,” you told her smiling. The muscles felt stiff and unnatural when you did it unlike the broad grin paired with laughter you had with Luke nor was it the soft smile of fondness when you were near Helaena.
Like your view of Alicent Hightower’s sons, you did not trust her. She invoked weariness at best. This may have been why you neglected to add how the Red Keep’s fine teas could not replicate the strong black tea your mother made on misty mornings when the sun had barely risen before you would go fishing with your father. She would put too much sugar in it, perhaps to cover the bitter taste when the water was too hot but the cup of tea in the morning felt right enough in its place.
Like the woman in front of you and truly everyone you trusted and detested here, you could only find shattered fragments to remind you of the life you had in your village. Misty mornings and too sweet tea that burned your tongue changed to sweltering days and donning fine silks pretending to be someone you were not born to be. Sitting in front of her made you want to run back to your village, to fish with your father again, but it was the memory of Luke, his brother, their cousins, maybe even Princess Helaena, that glued you to the halls of the Red Keep. It was hard to leave when everyone around you were dear to you.
This did not mean you had to like the games people played or pretend to enjoy playing them. They had never really known survival, at least not like you had. Alicent Hightower is not someone who could survive on the seas you had been sailing on since you were but ten years of age.
But you didn’t tell her any of this, of course. Trust her or not, you did drink the tea when it came and smiled kindly at her, forced your shoulders to not be so stiff, and acted like you did not suspect many horrendous things of her. This was the mother of the Usurper and Kinslayer, you thought, and she could not be trusted. Queen Rhaenyra had loved her father and you doubted the ugliness in his sons came from him. One look at Otto Hightower let you know who they got their foulness from.
“Why did you want to speak to me, Lady Alicent?” you asked after taking a sip of tea. The rose tea was wonderful and it did not even burn your tongue. When a flicker of nerves seemed to pass her amber eyes, you made no move to acknowledge it. She seemed to flounder for words and you were fine with filling the silence. “I would hope you are not as forward as your father in thinking that I can convince the Queen to give you privileges you ought not to have.”
For a moment she did not react to your words at all when she took a long sip of her tea, holding the tea cup to her lips for longer than was necessary. In the back of your mind you were aware your words were harsh and even clunky when spoken. In the months since arriving in the Red Keep your language had changed; You could not speak the way you did to your father to the lords and ladies of the court, so you did your best to learn. Reading books in the library in your freetime was the best way to do this, but even as your vocabulary grew it was times like these, where you were near people you did not trust and anger rose within you that any new knowledge was useless. A bull in a chinashop is how you felt — unnatural, out of place and obscene in motion and practice.
Lady Alicent knew that just as she knew you were a fisherman’s daughter masquerading as someone else but she never said the words. Unlike you, she was clever in surviving at court. If she wasn’t then her entire family wouldn’t have their heads, much less a position in court.
“No,” was all she said in response to your question. Setting her tea cup down, she smiled gently and she almost looked like her daughter. Unlike Helaena, there were years of understanding and knowledge behind her brown eyes that only came with living a life. Gingerly, she placed her hands in her lap and leveled a look at you. It was not harsh but firm nonetheless. “Consort Daemon would like to see my family without air in their lungs. To him seeing them walk the Keep is a slight that should not go unpunished.”
You made no move to correct her. Daemon had been insistent many times on how the Hightower’s treachery should not be forgiven. Otto Hightower had been the Hand of the King and had been planning to usurp Rhaenyra for too many years to count. Aemond Targaryen had nearly killed the Queen’s son. Aegon Targaryen took his sister’s crown. Sometimes you agreed with Daemon, silent as it may be.
You had told Queen Rhaenyra one morning whilst you braided her hair that every day you fished with your father you only killed the fish you needed to survive and not one more. If you did there would be nothing good from it, only the stink of rotting fish that you did not have the stomachs to eat. The words had been clear. What would executing the former Hand of the King, second wife of the King, and King Viserys youngest children do? Queen Rhaenyra had not said anything in response, merely nodding at you slowly in the mirror. The next day when her council had begun planning their journey to King’s Landing to accept peace terms from Alicent Hightower, she had been clear — no Hightowers would forfeit their lives.
Perhaps Lady Alicent knew you had influenced this decision, though you doubted it unless Queen Rhaenyra told Alicent herself. “Consort Daemon does not sit the Iron Throne,” was your response in a voice so neutral and unaffected you could not recognize it as your own. “Queen Rhaenyra has made it clear what she wants. Consort Daemon's wishes are only those desires he will not have.”
From the tilt of her chin as she gauged you, maybe trying to decide if she thought you honest, you knew that she would not tell Daemon what you had said of him. Consort Daemon was someone you respected for what he was. Your Queen was fearsome next to him and his strength had helped her greatly. If it weren’t for him you could not say that Luke and his brother would be progressing so well in training. Yet this desire for violence made Daemon dangerous and too wild to ever trust fully.
“I see why Queen Rhaenyra trusts you,” Alicent said after a moment, then took another sip of tea. With nothing else to say, you mimicked her actions. “You don’t trust me.”
When she said that you flickered your eyes to hers across the tea cup you sipped from. “Should I?” you asked, tongue quick before you even say your tea cup down again. When you did she almost looked amused, though a tight smile hid that expression well.
“You are strikingly similar to someone dear to me,” she told you after a moment, the hard lines of her smile loosening to something softer. Your silence seemed to make her remember why she brought you here. “You do not trust me but I hope you may trust this to be true — I love my family, my lady. I did what I thought would protect them and everything I will ever do is for their safety.”
You stared at her for as long as you could bear to before taking a sip of tea, setting down the empty cup on the table. “You have a family,” she said, leaning forward. There was a desperation in her eyes for understanding. It was only at seeing the expression so feverish in her brown eyes that had you truly listening to her for the first time today. “Tell me, do you not worry for their safety and well-being, and do you not long for their contentment?”
“Why do you think I am here, Lady Alicent, if not for my family?” You lean back into your chair, the plush cushion of the seat pressing against your back comfortably. For the first time Alicent is seeing you in your casual determination and she seems pleased, if not shocked. Before she can question you on family you lean forward as she had done. Gods forbid she asks you if Queen Rhaenyra’s family is one you see as your own, a question you could not answer yourself. “You are right, my lady. I do not trust you. I do not trust your intentions and I certainly do not trust those sons of yours.” The quiet tone of your voice is by no means soft, each of the words from your lips carefully said and holding a dangerous tone.
Lady Alicent seems determined for a moment and she only falters for but a second before clearing her throat. “My family did what I thought we must do in order to survive,” she swore again and there was a wildness in her eyes that glimmered even for eyes as dark as hers. She was desperate for something, maybe your trust or even for you to just see her perspective. “It was an injustice, I know, but Queen Rhaenyra understands that the past cannot be changed. House Targaryen must be a united front if we wish to survive.”
Survival. The way she used the word made you scoff and turn to look out the window beside you. Biting your lip harshly was the only way to keep the ugly scowl from growing on your lips of what survival meant to Alicent’s family. You had believed you could master constraint against saying what your tongue was desperate to, the truth, but then you looked back to her. There she was again, looking desperate and you thought, for what? Empathy?
“I was raised by the sea in the Stormlands. I have seen the ugliness and the brutality those waves carry,” briefly you thought of your father and the way he would steer your family’s small yet sturdy boat. He always could see past the strong rain that would fall into his eyes. How you never knew. “Do you know why my father was a fisherman?” you bit out the words, not sparring her any niceties now. “Because where I am from people do not have lands and titles to inherit. My father is a fisherman because he had to be. How else does a man feed his family? That is survival, my lady.”
Alicent opened her mouth to speak but much like the sea before an approaching storm, you felt a certain anger rise within you. “Survival is not stealing the throne from the rightful heir. It is certainly not trying to kill your own kin and sending their body falling into the sea below, letting the waves drown your own blood.”
You did not realize when you had gotten up, only hearing the scrapping of the wooden chair legs against the stone floor. With your fists clenched in your fury, you wearily eyed Lady Alicent when she got up. Now she looked at you like you were the one that was too wild to be a lady and acted too frenzied. “My lady,” she began and you could see she had no idea what to say next. It did not matter to you anyways. Moving past the table, you did not curtsey and did not even say goodbye as you moved out of the room. Your silk skirts swished around your legs when you left a dumbfounded and perplexed Alicent behind. Ser Cole’s surprised expression when you moved passed him outside Alicent’s rooms did not bother you. Moving furiously down the corridor it did nothing to bother you.
Later, you stood in the most silent part of the library where no one ever seemed to go. You trailed a finger across the spins of the books in the aisle you stood in front of, contemplating which book you would read next. Months ago you had told yourself you wanted to read the histories of Westeros, in particular the Targaryens, because it was your duty as the handmaiden to the first Queen Regent of House Targaryen and Westeros. The truth was, though, you loved to read histories, which was something you did not know until you came to the Red Keep. Before you only had the old copies of books, the second hand of second hand books if you will, that your sister’s husband had possessed. Now you had a library at your disposal.
Luke was close by but despite his improvement in his studies he would not read for pleasure. If he did it would be of pretend people. What good was learning about the past? He had asked you once, not unkindly but his words had made your face scrunch up in dismay. I’d rather learn about something else entirely. Something that didn’t even exist. If it had not been his improvements and even enjoyment of training and Valyrian lessons as of late, you might have hinted to him his taste in those stories of people who were not real was the yearning for a life in which he was not the heir of Driftmark, or where he was not Lucerys Velaryon at all.
Patiently, he leaned against the wall as you perused the books, taking too long to decide what to choose for your next book. He was staring out the window down at the training yard. If he did not have too much to tease you for after you had disclosed your tea with Lady Alicent, you would have told him he looked like he missed his training session this morning.
“I cannot believe you did that,” he muttered to himself. “You could have just lied and said you believed her. It matters little.”
Huffing a sharp breath, you grabbed the book you would read next. “I will not lie, Luke,” you told him, moving past the bookshelves towards his place by the windows. “I won’t belittle myself and dishonor my family by lying to please the likes of the Hightowers.”
“Do you have to be so you all the time?” he asked, grimacing as he said the words. “I’m not sure being honest all the time is a good thing. Mother says Lady Alicent is trustworthy.”
Rolling your eyes you walked past him, plopping yourself on the chair by the window stood in front of. “Should I lie?” you asked him, ignoring his comment on Alicent. You did not hate her but could not trust her. You opened the worn leather of the book. A Survey of Dornish History, it was called. Remembering the topic of Dorne in the Small Council meeting you felt compelled to learn something of their people.
You heard Luke move in front of the chair you sat in and place himself on the armrest of the chair next to you. “Everyone in court lies one way or another,” he said, voice soft and almost apologetic. Looking up at him you noticed that even hunched slightly and sitting uncomfortably on an arm chair, it was unmistakeable that he had begun to grow. The times you had seen him side by side Jace, the lack of a large height difference seemed to shrink.
“Do you?” you asked him, eyes flickering up to his with a challenging look in your eyes.
“No.”
“Then I see no need to pretend only to please others,” you shrugged and went back to the first page of your newest book.
“What do I have to do with what you will or will not do?” his question drew you back to him, this time closing your book for good. Later in your rooms alone after breaking this evening's fast you would read uninterrupted.
“Everything,” you said simply as if it did not need further explaining. His exasperated face made you smile slightly and it was so different than the one you had tried to give Alicent, this was real. “You have honor and you are kind. Do you not know this is such a rare thing to have in someone as highborn as you? If you tell the truth and are honest in everything you do, why should I act differently?”
He huffed indignantly. “You make me sound much better than I am,” he muttered after a moment. Contemptuously, he moved his gaze away from you to observe the shelves of books nearby you had been standing in front of a few minutes ago. Luke seemed to be contemplating something he did not desire to say aloud but with you he could not hold his tongue. “Mother and Lord Corlys think me incapable of doing any wrong to someone else. To them it is obvious that I am wholly good and I thought they might realize I am not so,” his words grew quieter and finally he looked back at you to see your own eyes imploring him to continue. “Perfect.”
“Perhaps you are perfect,” you teased him, fighting the grin off your lips. “Our perfect prince,” you snickered then and he shook his head, fighting his own laugh at your words.
“Nicely done,” he teased you back in mocking tones so light hearted you could never find offense. “Excellent alliteration.”
Scrunching up your nose you thought over this word he said, trying to place its meaning. When it came to you, you smiled remembering when you had read of alliteration in a compilation of Westerosi poetry. “Accidental too,” you said amused with yourself, resting your chin on your palm as you leaned on the armrest of your chair. “I am starting to truly marvel at myself. I fear there is no one as impressive as myself in the Red Keep.”
He laughed briefly. His amusement could not last, however.
“Such a high opinion of yourself you have, my lady,” a cool voice said, sounding like the water of a stream in the winter, cold to the bone.
You did not have to turn around to know who it was, the rigidity of Luke’s body told you that much already. “Prince Aemond,” Luke greeted stiffly as a person could speak but unlike the past, he was not shaking at the idea of Aemond now.
“Prince Lucerys,” Aemond mimicked, tilting his head down as slightly as a person could. To someone else it might have been a nod. Lucerys knew better.
Finally, you turned in your seat and looked at him. As a habit it seemed his arms were behind his back and to your displeasure, his eye was on you again. “My prince,” you greeted him as cordially as you could but the lack of warmth in your eyes only amused him.
Queen Rhaenyra had told you many times of the importance of being civil with the princes, an impossible task. If you cannot be in their presence without calling them the usurper or kinslayer, then do not find yourself in their presence at all, was what her Grace had told you.
You had succeeded until now it seemed. Even now your restraint was barely there now that Aemond Targaryen was near you. “What are you doing here?” you asked hastily, displeased with how stupid you sounded.
He barely paid you mind, his eye glancing at you before he moved past where you and Luke sat to reach the shelves you had only just been near moments ago. “I am here to find a book,” he said softly, though there was that air of arrogance in his voice. “That is what libraries are for, are they not?”
You rolled your eyes at his words, feeling the danger of your annoyance rising within you again. Luke’s gaze flickered to his uncle’s before looking back at you nervously. “We must head to see her Grace,” Luke said and was already up from his chair before you could react.
You frowned. “It is hardly mid day yet and her Grace has no need of me for another few hours—” You could not finish your thought, not when Luke had taken your wrist closest to him in his hand and yanked you up from your chair before practically pulling you towards the doors of the library. “Mind yourself!” you said angrily at him just as you walked through the doors, or rather were pulled from them.
“I had plans to read, Luke,” you fumed at him. “If you did not then you should not have come with me. You do not get to pull me around like I am some ragdoll.”
He threw his hands up in surrender but had a small smile on his face regardless. “Apologies. It would not have been wise to stay alone with Aemond.”
Your anger faded into the background and your features softened. “You are fearful of being alone with him?”
“I am fearful of being the lone witness of any encounter between you and him.”
You scowled at him and he tilted his head like you were proving his point. “You cannot continue to insult him. One day he will not let it go without retaliation. It’s his way.”
Aemond Targaryen was dangerous, that much you could admit, though it would never come from your lips. “Is it an insult to speak the truth?” you asked him slyly. “And it was only the one time. That is the first time I have seen him in a moon’s cycle, Luke. You worry too much.”
Luke shook his head in disagreement. “You cannot call him a kinslayer,” he uttered the last word in a whisper like he was fearsome of the thick doors being paper thin, allowing Aemond to hear the word. “Mother has spoken of the importance of peace in length with myself and Jace as I know she has with you. She takes your advice, I know this. Tell me this, is goading someone who is essential to maintaining the peace within our family a sound idea?”
With force, you huffed out an air of breath and looked to the curved stone ceiling for a moment. In your contemplation, Luke had reached out and held your hand, circling his thumb in soothing circles over the back of your hand. It is what you had done when coaxing him to wake during his nightmares when he was not a prince and you were only a fisherman’s daughter. When you looked back at him you showed him a smile of gratitude.
“I cannot forgive him for what he has done to you and I cannot pretend I do not hate him more than I have ever hated anyone,” you whispered. Recalling what had happened for you to find Luke, you felt a lump form in your throat. “When we found you I thought you were dead.”
“I know,” he said in a voice as quiet as your whisper. “But you saved me.”
You nodded, the emotion in your throat lessening. “Do not make me save you again.”
“I promise,” he whispered and tilting your head down, you smiled.
The sound of the wooden doors opening again cut through the silence and still holding your hand, Luke looked up. Following his gaze your head snapped up and saw Aemond Targaryen. Luke swallowed nothing, his adam’s apple bobbling, perhaps out of nerves. Was he afraid of the Prince? you wondered as you saw Aemond’s eye looked to your clasped hands before he looked back up at Luke. Or was he afraid of what you may do for Luke’s honor and protection?
Neither options pleased you and it was for this reason you regarded Aemond like he is not someone you might have hated the most within the walls of the Red Keep.
Aemond’s lips were in a thin lip, something that you thought was the natural state of his lips as that is how they always were whenever you saw him. His displeasure was as obvious as yours had been in the library, but he only nodded, to Luke and adjusted the leather bond book under his arm. “Prince Lucerys,” he said, though his words lacked warmth. “I look forward to competing against you in the coming tourney.” He turned his gaze to you merely saying, “my Lady,” and turned his gaze to your and Luke’s conjoined hands before he made the irritating humming sound. Without waiting a reply he turned from you both and strided down the hall.
Your hand dropped Luke’s and once Aemond’s figure was too far to hear anything you may say, you let out a breath you had not been aware you were holding. The arrogant air the silver haired prince held still lingered but he was not the object of your dismay. “You are competing against Aemond in the tourney?” you hissed the words lowly as you looked at Luke who at least had the decency to look guilty. “You could die.”
Recalling the deaths that were common in tourneys had worried you but now they would plague you. “He would not harm me,” Luke protested and you scoffed. “He won’t,” he insisted before you could object. “The rumors of discord in our family must be quelled and the tourney is meant to show the peace of House Targaryen and our newfound strength.”
He nearly sounded like a member of the small council and you withheld every retort you thought of knowing they would be said with anger.
“Aemond understands the importance of this and as long as Lady Alicent seeks peace he will do what he must to ensure House Targaryen has it. The tourney is a show not a competition.”
“He’s going to let you win?” you asked with incredulity.
He chuckled and ducked his head as he smiled ruefully. “I doubt that very much,” he looked back up at you and had a soft expression on his face. “But he won’t kill me. Aemond is not the type of person to make the same mistake twice.”
You sighed. Your worry for him was too strong to be ignored and you could not trust the very person he would be jousting. “Can I be right in thinking Jace will joust the Usurper? First son versus first son, and second son versus second son?”
“No,” he denied. “Cregan Stark has come from Winterfell and will be competing against Jace. They grew close over Jace’s time in the North gaining Cregan’s support. He is rather excited to see him.”
“Very well,” you told him defeatedly because there was nothing else to say. If Luke was hurt there would be nothing to save Aemond Targaryen, you thought. “I should return to my chambers,” you told him, suddenly feeling very tired. Luke seemed sullen to see you go but let you leave wordlessly nonetheless.
You had made your way into your rooms for solitude but the rich burgundy walls did not feel like your own as you sat yourself on the bed, exhaling as you sunk into the plush mattress. The worry for Luke came in waves just like the recent memory of Aemond Targaryen’s long look at your hand holding Luke’s. That prolonged displeased you and you felt your lips punching into a thin line much like the silver haired prince’s at this thought. What he thought did not matter, you tried to remind yourself. Luckily, you had a letter to write to your mother and moved to the vanity to sit in the wooden chair.
You sat and began to write back to your father, making sure to tell him only of the joyful things in your life and most of all Luke. You think that your father missed not only yourself but the boy he hadn’t always known to his prince whenever he would write to you. Maybe this is why you always include so much about your beloved friend. Regardless, your mind seemed to forget Aemond Targaryen and the look he had set upon your hand in Luke’s, and you were happy for it. While you wrote and the creased skin relaxed between your brows and you were no longer frowning, Alicent Hightower was in her solar.
“You may go,” she softly ordered the handmaiden after the young girl had clasped her bracelet on her. She did not need telling twice as she bowed and left, leaving Lady Alicent alone with Tyland Lannister. Alicent did not wait for him to ask her the question she had summoned him for. “Even tempered and amiable is not how I would describe Queen Rhaenyra’s handmaiden,” she said quietly, sitting herself across from Tyland.
“A pity,” he solemnly said and crossed his legs and gave Alicent a look of consideration. “Prince Aemond believes her arrogant. Is this true?”
Alicent laughed humorlessly. “Not in the slightest,” she replied bemused. “Prideful to be sure. Defensive to anyone who has brought harm to the Queen’s family, in particular Lucerys. She loves him and wants to protect him.”
“She does not hide it well, I gather,” Tyland commented. A month later, the interaction between the prince and the handmaiden had not been forgotten by anyone in the castle. It remained a piece of gossip that ladies found amusing because there was no one the likes of Queen Rhaenyra’s handmaiden in the Red Keep before. The fact remained for courtiers like Tyland Lannister, she instilled worry.
Alicent hummed. “She called Aemond a kinslayer,” she commented, looking at Tyland with a heavy gaze. “She has already said that much to his face and called him a killer of kin to myself. It was a moment of anger for her, that much I am certain.”
“She seems to detest him,” Tyland replied with emphasis. “The lady has made no secret of that. But she is illogical. Lucerys lives and that is fact enough Prince Aemond is no kinslayer.”
Alicent was not convinced. “I don’t think it matters to her,” she told him in even tones. “Lucerys Velaryon fell from the skies after my son’s dragon ate his. Rhaenyra’s handmaiden saved him and might have seen him on death’s door for all we know. Aemond not successfully killing Lucerys is of no importance to her and her simple ideals.”
“Does she wish him harm?” Tyland asked her with seriousness.
Alicent was silent for a moment. “No, she does not.”
“Are you quite certain?” he was unsure.
“I am,” Alicent replied and there was no doubt in her voice. “It is strange, Ser Tyland. She detests my son and he finds her disagreeable and yet,” she trailed off, looking to him in hopes of him understanding her thinking. Tyland hummed, none the wiser. “They are similar.”
“She is lowborn,” he says plainly like this was all that needed to be said. “Prince Aemond is of Valyrian blood. There are no similarities to be found surely.”
Alicent looked bemused again and shook her head, knowing that there was no use in explaining to someone else what she had seen that surely no one else has. The handmaiden’s love for Helaena and gentle ways around the ones she loved were strikingly familiar as was the hostility to those she deemed harmful to those loved ones. Such devotion is rarely seen.
A part of Alicent hoped the two might be friendly one day before one of them surely kills each other. Her Aemond who had no true friends and cared for few others might benefit from the company of the handmaiden who could be the only reason behind Lucerys growth of confidence. She would have to be blind not to see and secretly wished you might trust her one day, though she would never say this to anyone and never Tyland Lannister.
As Alicent talked to Tyland, you set your paper down to let the ink set. You smiled, realizing the letter would be dry when you return to your rooms tonight after the Queen's banquet. Hastily you ready yourself for the event as you put on a dark blue dress that is simple yet elegant. Your hair is braided, though not as finely as any of the Targaryens would be for tonight, and your jewelry is minimal with gold earrings and a pendant necklace that sits above your collarbone.
Striding to the door you know the feast is a while away but you give your Queen as much of your time as you can. The thought of getting to her rooms has you opening the door, gleeful at the prospect of speaking to Ser Erryk on the way there.
Your smile drops immediately, though the fact it did not morph into a snarl is quite a feat. Aemond is before you and he is already dressed, the black leathers draped across his shoulders and down to the boots he wore looks pristine as can be. Not even a hair is out of place to your annoyance. “What do you want?”
His face is unamused, lips pinched into a thin line as they always were. “The Septa should teach you lessons on etiquette. You hardly speak like a lady would to a prince,” he muses and your eyes are widening, not at all expecting this and certainly not armed with quips to throw at him. Your mouth opens ajar and something indignant is on your tongue, though you cannot say it for you could not even say what it was. “Matters not. I must speak to you. You can rest assured that it is not for pleasure that I come to speak with you.”
The huff of indignation finds its way past your lips and he doesn’t seem to care. See Erryk is near the door, looking at the both of you with worry. By now everyone has heard that the One Eyed Prince and the Queen’s Handmaiden cannot be near each other without you throwing insults at him. Besides, Ser Erryk had seen it himself.
“I am on my way to see the Queen and I don't have time for the likes of you,” you’re vaguely aware your tone is childish but it is hard to find the will to care. “Her Grace far outranks you, my prince.”
He says nothing and you roll your eyes before you go to move past him. Aemond doesn’t move a muscle, his shoulders in your way. “Move,” you order him and he is amused. “Perhaps I was right when I called you deaf.”
His nostrils flared at your comment and the reminder of your insults to him that month ago. He sighs and moves his body so you might pass him. With a huff of breath and upwards tilted chin, you walk through the threshold of your door. Sadly, Aemond follows you.
“You’re excused Ser Erryk. I will see the lady to her Grace,” he calls out to the guard with an unbothered tone as he strides after you.
“My lady,” Ser Erryk says in a questioning tone, asking for approval.
“Do not trouble yourself, Ser Erryk,” you reply over your shoulder, your facial features pinched into annoyance. He nods and you turn your face away from him. “If Prince Aemond tries something I shall stab him in the leg.”
Aemond chuckles, but it is not a sound of amusement. “My sister sings your praises most days I see her yet you threaten me nearly every time you see me,” he muses. “Am I the lone object of your ire?”
“Your brother is not exempt,” you dryly tell him, trying to walk even faster. It is not good when he meets your strides easily.
“But my mother is not deserving of your ire?” he questions and you almost trip over your feet. He makes a sound of amusement from his throat that does not quite reach his lips, making you turn your head to look at him with narrowed eyes.
You think back to your meeting with Lady Alicent but refuse to give him the satisfaction of your face giving away how you feel for his mother. “She has done nothing to warrant my anger,” you grit to words out and do not bother looking at him. That is a lie but you would not consider telling him the truth. The sight of his angular face might yet make you intent on doing something Luke would begrudge you for. “Queen Rhaenyra thinks highly of her, that is all that matters.”
Your words are final but Aemond seems to want something more by the way he hums. The sound grates against your ears and you begin to wonder why the corridors to the Queen’s rooms feel so long today. “I warned against her wanting to meet with you as the Queen’s handmaiden is most disagreeable,” he tells you, sounding self satisfied. “A terrible liar too. Why my sister seems to trust you I have no knowledge of understanding.”
“Your sister is a friend to me like it or not, Prince Aemond,” you snark and fight the urge to push him hard.
“If you harm Helaena I will kill you,” he says after a long moment in a matter of fact way. He does not even sound threatening, his words a mere fact of what could befall you.
Your lips part out of shock. “No one would ever want to harm Princess Helaena. Unlike like her brothers, she is good,” you emphasize and there is no word eloquent enough to describe her. Your back straightens and you feel as stiff as the oars used to move a large ship. “Trust this when I tell you I am the last person who would think of harming her. A sentiment I cannot share for her brothers.”
His eye appraises you and as your chin juts out and the appearance of defiance is painted over your features, he seems to silently take you at your words. Whats more, he does not pay mind to your insults to him. “A pity that your King Consort does not share this sentiment.” He smiles but there is no amusement but something bitter in the movement of his lips.
The smallest of understanding between you both disappears in the air and if you tried to grab at it, you knew it would slip your fingers. “Consort Daemon is a dedicated to her Grace and the Realm. You should learn to hold you tongue—”
“Dedicated, is he?” Aemond steps into your space and it is too near you for comfort but you refuse to step back. Nor do you find it possible to cower as you match his disdainful tone. “He wanted us all dead, did you know that?” his words are silky and sound like rain falling into the sea. “My mother, my grandsire, my brother, my sister, my niece and nephews. He thought we should be wiped from the world, I have no doubt. And you praise him still.”
You had once seen Princess Helaena’s children, the twins and the young boy who was still learning to walk. “No one would kill an innocent child,” you dismiss the thought and while your words do not shake they do not feel as strong as they once did when you say them.
“Of course not,” he replies and despite the soft tone you can recognize mocking when you hear it.
Huffing, you shoulder past him as hard as you can. Unfortunately, he does not move much. No farewell is given to the prince when you stalk down the corridor to the Queen’s room.
The wooden door is opened by a guard and steady your breath before you greet the Queen. Words are exchanged, though you do not remember them nor do you remember saying anything until Queen Rhaenyra’s hand is on your bicep, asking you, “Are you quite well? You seem like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her touch is that of a mother’s and her eyes are just as touching, making you think of your mother, your sister, then Helaena and the children she has.
You would not dare to say what Aemond had insinuated. War was war is what the members of the small council would say. And this was no longer war, so why would anyone worry about what had already passed?
“I am not one for banquets and court for that matter,” is the answer you give her with a small smile that feels weak on your lips. “I worry for Prince Lucerys at this tourney.”
She nods and smiles in a wry way as she leans back in her chair. “It is necessary but I have a similar weariness. Our house must look united as divided as we are in our own walls.” Her hand eventually drops from your arm and she looks warmly at you. “But there is joy in tourneys and most certainly feasts. Tonight I have seated you next to Lord Cregan Stark at his table. Jace will be nearby I have little doubt,” she looks at you knowingly.
“I will look forward to it,” the words do not sound like a lie to your ears either. While you had known Luke, Jace had been in the North as you had learned in your time at Dragonstone convincing Cregan Stark to their side. The words that Aemond had said seemed to fade from your mind for a time. Besides, Aemond was no Stark who valued honor and he must have lied. Nothing from him can be the truth, you were certain.
reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#lucerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon x you#lucerys x reader#lucerys x you#lucerys x y/n#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#hotd x reader
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Agonophiliac's Fantasy - Part 1
It's just me and my opponent in a cleared room at his place. We spent the days prior texting each other on the hour, pumping ourselves up for the fight we arranged.
We spent hours meticulously crafting it all together. Discussing which gloves would be best, velco or laced. Faux or real leather. Heavy oz or light. Colour schemes, such as black gloves with a white trunk and black trim or red gloves with red shorts and white trim. Would we have low cut or high top boots. Not a single thing was forgotten or overlooked.
I always tell my opponents of my dream fight...
I want to be fully kitted out. Boots that are a snug fit, shorts that leave plenty of room for my cock to bounce around as we do the dance, bare and hairy chest exposed, mouth guard in full white just waiting for spit to be sent flying from it when I catch a solid right hook and optional head guard to increase to sweat factor so there is more to fly off and drip down onto my body...
I'm ready for this fight. He is ready for this fight. We prepared, we trained, we worked on our punches.
We want to see how much we can take. I want to sink my red laced Lonsdale gloves into his gut and I want him to snap my head back with a stinging jab.
We are here to test each other, to push each other, to indulge each other, to fight each other, to give each other exactly what we want and know we both possess the power to give each other only what we know we want and can give.
He helps put on my hand wraps, making sure that they are nice and tight before squeezing them into the gloves. The leather fights me on its on terms but the sound of the material being warped and stretched sends a signal down my body and into my cock that adds to the tension...
I smack my gloves together and listen to them echo in the small room. These beauties have been admired from afar for a long time. These gloves are what fighters use, what men use, the tools of the trade that are now finally on my hands, granting me power and a high that cannot be described. It has to be felt.
I stand here now, a fighter, a warrior and ready to do battle for both the pain and the pleasure...
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Rereading The Terror
Two short chapters combined for you today, each more gut-wrenching than the last!
Chapter Fifty-Five: Goodsir
Goodsir's first few days in the Mutineer Camp have not been pleasant, needless to say. He begins describing Hickey as The Devil and the other men as an "Infernal Legion" celebrating with a "Feast of Human Flesh" after the confrontation with Crozier.
There are a few familiar and unexpected faces within that 'infernal legion' including Billy Orren, John Morfin, and Billy Gibson, all very much still living so far.
Interestingly, several of the Mutineers are still actively resisting the descent into cannibalism - Morfin and Hodgson most notably - but Goodsir suspects they won't be able to hold out much longer - "the smell of Roasting Human Flesh is Horribly Enticing".
Just like the main party, the Mutineers also appear to have found leads in the ice. 17 men pile into a boat only meant for 8 and begin to paddle northward but it's clear quickly that they cannot continue to do so for long, and it's not because of the leads themselves:
"I Heard Hickey and Aylmore whispering after we landed to pitch Tents this Evening - they made Little Effort to lower their Voices.
Someone will have to go.
...now that they do not need Man-haulers, which Men will be Sacrificed to the Food stores so that the boat can be Lightened for tomorrow's Sailing?"
-
Chapter Fifty-Six: Jopson
Oh gang... I'm afraid this is it...!
Jopson doesn't understand.
He doesn't fully understand what's happening to his body anymore - why his teeth and hair are falling out and he's bleeding from every orifice. And he doesn't understand why he's being left behind on this, his literal birthday:
"...but he was not an old man. He was thirty-one years old today and they were leaving him behind to die on his birthday." :(((
He has just enough wherewithal to smell the roasting of the seal meat Des Voeux's men brought back to camp, and to note the stream of men visiting his tent, unwilling to show their faces but leaving behind a pile of mouldy ships biscuits for him "like so many white rocks in preparation for his burial."
Jopson can only really protest in his own head - against the men and their actions and, interestingly, against Crozier...
"Hadn't he stayed by Captain Crozier's side a hundred times during the captain's illnesses and moody low points and outright bouts of drunkenness? Hadn't he quietly, uncomplainingly, like the good steward he was, hauled pails of vomit from the captain's cabin in the middle of the night and wiped the Irish drunkard's arse when he shat himself in his fever delirium?
Perhaps that's why the bastard is leaving me to die."
Good Christ if that thought doesn't actually fucking destroy me! It's not even the idea of doing all that for someone and it somehow not being good enough, it's almost as if it was too good instead. Like something about reaching that level of intimacy being too unbearable in some way and somehow being the thing that dooms him? Ooh lordy I'm unwell... :(((
Soon enough, Jopson's birthday becomes more surreal and yet more literal as his crawling from the tent is described almost like labour, like an actual birth - "He had grown used to the canvas-filtered dim light and stuffy air of his tent-womb that this openness and glare made his lungs labour and filled his squinted-shut eyes with tears."
Crawling over food - "brought to him as if he were some damned pagan idol or sacrificial offering to the gods" - Jopson exits the tent which all too quickly fades into the fog behind him so he can't go back, and tries to shout after the departing men.
He's so weak but so utterly utterly desperate that he even tries to use his fucking chin to drag himself along the ground when his arms fail him. But of course it's not enough.
Just like that, the departing men are gone.
"It was as if they had never existed."
#The Terror#The Terror AMC#Observations#Random Observations#Meta#Rereading the Terror#Terror Spoilers#Harry Goodsir#Thomas Jopson#Cornelius Hickey#I'll read it so you don't have to my sweet babies!
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Heyyy!! Can you write a headcanon of the Uchiha men(include Indra too please!!) waking up in a female body? How will they react to that? What will they do?
Ohhh Anon, what a wonderful request! Lets see these men's reactions to waking up as a woman.
Indra
This man realizes there's something wrong with him the moment he opens his eyes. His shock cannot be described by words when he moved the covers of his bed and sees his changed body. His toned, muscular body now was gone being replaced by soft female body
He tries to stay calm and think of his following actions for the day. First, he tries to think WHY he ended up in this body. He didnt consume anything or practice any jutsu that could alter his body.
After maybe an hour of thinking, an answer could not be found and Indra gave up. It was nearing for his early morning training, and he was not going to miss it no matter what. Even being turned into a female cannot stop it.
He dresses up, trying his best to bind his chest to make it easier fooling people around him. For his face, he applied his blue eyeliner under his eyes and finished with his face. Heavens blessed him with soft feminine features so Indra was not worried about his face as much as he was worried about his body.
The other thing he was worried about was...his voice. His now deep voice was changed to a feminine one and he knew that if he spoke, everyone would figure there's something wrong. Indra sighed, feeling helpless at the situation he is in.
When it was time for training, Indra's annoyance was doubled. His body was now unable to keep up with him, which resulted in a failed training session. His day kept getting worse and now there was really nothing this man could do. Except maybe waiting for the weird phenomena to pass.
Madara
Waking up in a body that isn't his is a catastrophic event for this man. Where has his majestic, glorified body went to? Why is he in a woman's body? His head spins with questions which he knows cant be answered.
He think its an evil joke that his "best friend" played on him, and if his thought was right, then he will definitely be getting revenge from Hashirama.
Usually Madara would always take cold morning showers, to wake him up and to make him more energetic, but this morning he decided to break his habit, not wanting to see whatever his body looked like now. It was already shocking enough for him.
He cursed each time he tried wearing his robes, as now they not only didn't fit him, but his now body proportions were not doing a good job at trying to conceal his new problem. Women with big chests were always his favorite, but now he is starting to hate big chests.
Nevertheless, he was able to find a way to conceal his new identity. Madara wasted no time and headed to the Senju residence, to get explanation to his looks.
"Wait...you mean you...woke up in a woman's body..?!?!"Hashirama spoke loudly. Madara hated Hashirama for being such a loud man, and he hated himself more for being this man's friend. He pushed Hashirama to his room, in hopes that no one heard their loud leader.
After spending some good 30 minutes on laughing at him, saying that its his karma for being so rude to people, especially women, Hashirama calmed down, trying to help his friend understand the root of the issue. He knew Madara could not go out with his current form, because...he would grab the attention of EVERYONE, be it male or female.
"You know you look pretty hot like this though. If I didn't know your real self, I would definitely mistaken you for a hot woman and try to persuade you~" Hashirama, with his dumb jokes was making Madara angrier with each second. He needed to get rid of whatever he was in, as he had important meetings for the whole day and could not be present while looking like that.
Of course, luck was not on his side as he was unable to change and get his body back.
Izuna
First thing in his head when he sees his new body? Where is his dick? His best attribute is stripped of him without his knowledge.
Unlike his brother, Izuna gets adjusted to his new body very fast. He knows female body very good thanks to him whoring sleeping around, but he is for sure not against the idea of a proper examination. He stands in front of the mirror, touching his body all around: pinching, tickling, rubbing. Everything that crosses his mind
He loves his body better, but Izuna cant help but notice how good he looks even in female body. He loves that this body comes with big natural heaters, aka boobs. He also love how his face looks more feminine now. He looks perfect both as a man and a woman, and it boosts his self-esteem.
All fun and games, but Izuna realises he has to let someone know of this, someone like his brother. He knows Madara will find a way to help him get out of such situation.
Izuna entered his brother's office, looking to find him. When Madara saw him, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Izuna...what is the meaning of this..? Why do you look like that?" Little die he know, Izuna's appearance wasn't intentional and he really woke up in this body.
Madara, not knowing what to say or do, instructed Izuna to not appear in public and be in his room mostly, till Madara figures out what to do to help him. This of course made Izuna happier becaUse he could be lazy all day long and not get yelled at by Madara.
He uses his free time in exploring the wonders of female body, not knowing when the heaven would stop. He would not mind staying in female body for a long time, but he LOVES his real body so he hopes some cure can be found for this thing.
#indra otsutsuki#otsutsuki indra#indra otsutsuki headcanons#indra x reader#madara uchiha headcanons#madara uchiha#uchiha izuna#izuna uchiha#izuna uchiha headcanon#madara#indra#izuna
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He Ain't Him | Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Reader ['You Ain't Her', Part II]
YOU AIN'T HER
Warnings: lightweight mentions of sexual situations (smut thoughts), conversations about sexual consent. (i cannot stress this enough: we all about consent over here. no means no at any time).
peace and love. - Ci
As you sat in his car, you kept seeing her name on Erik’s dashboard. One call turned into two and into three. He kept hitting ‘dismiss’’. If you were her, you’d grow suspicious. Wonder why her man, once attentive and warm, would do a thing as detached himself from your love at the tap of a screen. He’ll call her back, you’ll suppose. It wasn’t as if you two were in a conversation deep enough to warrant that. But he wouldn’t dare answer the phone in front of you. Even though you know who she is, what’s she doing and who he is going home to: her.
That was the last straw for you. At dinner, Erik talked long moves. Money and location. He wanted her to be a part and feared that she might not be with it. You assured him that it’s best to tell her. That was a bit of inception on your part. You also wanted him to tell her about you. About these dinners. About these few hours away from his peace that cause you such discomfort. Just be honest about it all. But then he called her “crazy” and that’s when you knew she’d never know. For the sake of his safety and the anticipation of her sanity.
This hurts. Once a man that you wanted to try cosplaying a relationship with is now someone you call a “friend” just to keep in your life. You tell yourself that you need more friends and he can be that for you. When you finally left his car after the fourth missed call, he sent you a text telling you that he “missed you.” and that it was “good to see you.” It had been months since you last sat across from each other. You thought you grew a backbone, choosing to fall back because your heart and common sense fought with violent rage. But then you felt alone, felt as if you needed to get just a sliver of what you snatched away from yourself. So you fell back in line and into his view.
“... you were the one that distanced yourself and I respected it. I got it.”
About that distance. About your decision to walk away. When your father died, sex became the salve. It didn’t matter who, it didn’t matter then when and why. You wanted to be with someone, close to someone, needed by someone, used by someone. So you did it. Often. More times than you did before death was dropped at your doorstep. It’s no different than those who drink or smoke the pain away. You chose to use your body in the worst way to escape the worst emotions you’ve ever felt in your life. One day you slept with the wrong one. He changed your life forever.
Since then, you hid. From men, from dating, from romantic love, from warm embrace. Get numbers, never call them. Flirt for sport only to cry about empty beds and empty promises. Try to date under the pretense of trying but fail at that too. You didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t want to give pretense to something that would never be a reality.
And when you would get close, it felt like they only wanted one thing. That thing you weren’t comfortable to give. And when you said that you couldn’t, they were going to find a way to get it from you and they did. In an empty office space, in the car on the way to a smoke session, in your DMs and text messages. In a kitchen with your back against the counter. That time you graciously open your legs. It had been so long since you felt a man’s touch by your own discretion. You never shook and trembled so much before. You never saw stars like those. Galaxies and orbits surrounding you. You smiled coming down from space.
You hit the ground with a thud full of so much violence and gore. That’s a way to describe shame and guilt.
You didn’t want to feel that way again so you swore yourself to solitude and silence.
“I’m abstaining at the moment.”
“Likewise.”
Is he out there? Is he out there waiting for you? The person who understands your decision and never pressures you to think otherwise about your choice. Someone who knows you can be in when it’s time but doesn’t feel the moments leading up are a waste. Willing to be in your space, willing to care and share, willing to be a rider. Is okay with being your friend. Not using your friendship as an escape from “crazy” or “clingy”. Not a friend who says he’s looking to build a future with his future but then says that she could be soon in the past. Within an hour. After you tell him that you need a minute away to figure out who you felt about him, y’all and us. Because he felt you slipping away.
You can’t wait to find someone who isn’t him. Because he ain’t him.
So care about yourself for once.
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wot on prime rewatch: 1x01 leavetaking
spoilers for all of season one of the show; I’m going to do a reblog of this post to include book-related thoughts that go past The Eye of the World.
1. There are several things that I really love about Moiraine’s intro scene: it sets up the two items that she uses at the EotW (the sa’angreal and the knife) and she is wearing PANTS thus immediately already trimming away one of Jordan’s super-weird continent-wide gender quirks where It Is a Weird Thing for women to wear pants. Moiraine’s traveling outfit gives me life. But, frankly, the pants were the first thing that made me believe that we would be getting a genuinely UPDATED version of the story, without all the super-weird stuff about how men and women are so impossibly different that they can’t ever understand each other (even when, ex. the woman in question is behaving remarkably similar to your male friend that you have no issue understanding, and vice versa) and that was so exciting to me. And I’m still excited about it! Another thing that I love is Moiraine talking about how arrogant the ~men~ were to believe they could cage darkness in one big pre-emptive strike and then that’s basically exactly what she takes Rand off to do at the end of S1.
2. In S1E5, we find out that what Liandrin and her Red Ajah sisters do here is extremely illegal! They are not supposed to be hunting down male channelers and gentling them on the spot, they are supposed to take them back to Tar Valon for trial (...when they will get gentled, so for the actual men, it’s something of a distinction without a difference). This is also our first look at the ‘madness’ that afflicts male channelers due to the corruption and I’m really curious about how this will continue to be portrayed as we get more men channeling in the future.
3. The first appearance of Moiraine’s wishful thinking appears in this scene (arguably, the first appearance of her wishtful thinking is in the intro scene when she says that the Dragon might be reborn as a girl; that would definitely make things easier for her!), when she insists that the man that Liandrin just gentled CANNOT be the Dragon Reborn. She happens to be right in this case, but this attitude works less well for her when we get to the end of the season.
4. And then we get the super-awesome shot of the tall ‘moss-covered mountains’ that are actually abandoned skyscrapers. Perfect match for the Age of Legends scene that we get at the end of the season. Continue to love how they wove in the post-apocalypse threads. Subtle but once you know, you can see it in lots of place.
5. I really like how this opening scene with Egwene is all very metaphorical for how embracing saidar is described in the books. And getting our first glimpses of Egwene and Nynaeve is great, but I also like how it’s in the context of this woman-only group in their community because that’s a huge part of their story that they will need to navigate in the future (we know they’re both planning to head to the White Tower as of the end of S1). I do think it’s very interesting how the ‘Women’s Circle’ is not a governing body here but rather the community that all women join when they’re old enough for a braid. I don’t think we get any mentions of the Village Council or Bran as the Mayor either. The Two Rivers seems purely people chilling without a leader and just being a small community together.
6. The locations are so pretty. So, we get introduced to Moiraine & Lan, then Liandrin, then Egwene & Nynaeve, and now we have Rand and Tam. Tam is remembering the old days. Aw, this intro with Rand and Tam is cute, plus it does set up: wolves acting strangely, that Rand’s mom is out of the picture (implied dead), and him and Egwene as childhood sweethearts.
7. I think the show did a good job of marrying together the different backstories that Rand and Egwene’s romance have in the series. In the show, they’re first loves, currently in a relationship but inexplicably not married for reasons that perhaps neither of them could put a finger on if you asked them directly. Before Egwene gets the Wisdom apprentice invite, I imagine they would both vaguely say, “oh you know. we’ll get married some day” and then just keep not doing it.
8. This set of scenes in the Winespring does a good job setting up the friendship between the three boys. We see Rand and Perrin worrying over Mat losing money; and then Perrin also comes over to talk to Rand when he notices him brooding off by the wall. And Mat, in his more teasing way, is trying to make sure that the three of them stay connected as a friendship unit, even if Perrin is married and Rand is with Egwene and off in the mountains most of the year besides. And Perrin and Mat are both introduced in context of their friendship with Rand. This scene is also used to show how insular the Two Rivers is, hearing news of the world only second or third-hand.
9. Lan and Moiraine are such drama llamas, I swear. So Dramatic at all times. Nynaeve gets positioned as the village Protector even here in this introduction -- she’s the one that challenges Lan and tells him to name himself. Nynaeve and Rand are the two characters set up to be the most distrusting of Moiraine, but we see a lot of whispering between villagers in the background.
10. It’s an interesting set of shots that they set up here, actually, given some of what happens later. The people that Moiraine looks at: first, it’s Mat with the girl that we find out later that he stole from; then Nynaeve with Lan in the foreground; and finally Egwene with a shot that racks focus to include Rand and Perrin behind her (who will have a brief love trangle-ish moment later on in the season). But I like this shot of Moiraine looking around and clocking all the potential people who might be the correct age to be the Dragon Reborn.
11. Again, on a rewatch, Perrin’s secret crush on Egwene (and Nynaeve’s knowledge of it) is actually made pretty clear.
12. We get introduced next to Mat’s change in backstory which I’ve personally thought was a brilliant choice from the beginning. Mat’s background feels fairly disconnected from his characterization in the books and this new backstory grounds him as a character, gives him some strong motivations and some strong personal fears. It does add a slightly darker/seedier side to the Two Rivers, in that the Cauthons have clearly fallen through the cracks, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing either.
13. But the set-up here really is heartbreaking for Mat -- a father that is constantly breaking his mother’s heart, a mother who is so consumed by her husband’s betrayal that she’s barely a mother to her children, and Mat left to essentially parent his little sisters. And it sets up Mat as someone who has both strong reasons to want to be far away from the Two Rivers (to escape his family and the reputation his family would have in the village) and to return to the Two Rivers (to take care of his sisters). And he’s also set up as someone who only has his ‘true self’ seen by a handful of people -- his sisters, Rand, and... potentially Perrin, though Perrin doesn’t get as much screentime about it, and potentially Nynaeve as well -- and everyone else sees this surface gloss of who he is, including Moiraine, Egwene, and his own parents.
14. I do actually wonder if part of the reason that they cast the sisters so young was because filming just takes a long time, longer than the books are set in, so they may just be planning to have the events of the books take place over a longer time frame.
15. We do see here than Egwene and Rand’s relationship is definitely favored by both his father and her parents. Tam and Rand stay behind after everyone else has left to help the al’Vere’s clean up the inn, essentially acting as in-laws already. The scene between them alone is really good, too, and you can feel the tension of Egwene having something to tell Rand and being uncertain about it, and Rand is clearly aware that something is Going On but isn’t sure he wants to know, and so they ended up sleeping together first and then dealing with their actual issues afterwards.
16. I also really really love the platonic bath scene with Moiraine and Lan. Nonsexual and nonromantic intimacy between people who are essentially platonic life-partners at this point. It’s a great look under the ~dramatic~ surface that they were portraying to the villagers earlier. And it’s nice that our first bit of nudity is a guy’s butt. And I love the implication that, over the years, Moiraine has embraced some of the customs from Lan’s homeland.
17. Rand does essentially take this as something of a break-up while Egwene seems more torn on whether it is or isn’t. But then part of the issue that they end up running into later on in this episode and at the end of the season, is that Rand likes to process things alone in his head and Egwene wants to talk it all out as it’s currently happening, so they have some communication incompatibilities but it isn’t chalked up to Women are just Like This and Men are just Like That, the way that things like that tend to be spun as in the books.
18. And the intro to Padan Fain, where we find out that he acts essentially as Mat’s fence for items stolen from people in the Two Rivers works really well and it just... it does make me sad about how the show had to get adjusted post-Covid, and was not able to have Mat end out the season facing off against Fain, as I’m sure he was originally supposed to do. Fain’s whole speech about how he hated going to the Two Rivers every year would have hit harder if he’d been saying it to Mat.
19. We do see here, in a more subtle way, how most of the villagers are eyeing Moiraine and Lan suspiciously.
20. The sort of semi-post-relationship conversation with Egwene and Rand on the mountainside is very good as well. That she knows where to look for him when he’s in a thoughtful/brooding mood and the actual content of the talk as well. Honestly, I feel so puzzled by a lot of the complaints from some people about Rand’s behavior towards Egwene that I saw? It all makes perfect sense to me? She breaks up with him but then, next episode, she wants him to be instantly over any heartbreak and, at the same time, offer her boyfriend-type cuddles at night. And I get it from Egwene’s PoV too -- it’s a very stressful situation and she’s used to looking to Rand for comfort in stressful situations, so she’s going back to her instincts/old habits. But it’s just weird how I saw people call him clingy when she is the one who literally tries to physically snuggle up with him after she breaks up with him? How is he supposed to ‘just get over her already’ when she’s doing stuff like that? idk some people don’t seem to expect men to have human emotions and it’s weird to me. She’s allowed to be nostalgic about him to Aram but he’s not allowed to be nostalgic about her.
21. Rand had a whole Vision about his future (not the magic kind) and he needs some time to adjust to that vision changing. And, like... that’s fair and completely a normal human reaction to being broken up with and I do not understand why I saw so many people being weird about it when this set of episodes aired. It’s not like Rand had a made-up fantasy about Egwene -- they were literally in a romantic and sexual relationship! That ended extremely abruptly! And then they all got traumatized by having their village attacked! Even without the additional trauma that Rand was operating under, his behavior made sense.
22. Nynaeve and Moiraine do get off on such a hilariously bad footing here. Moiraine takes such a terrible approach to trying to feel Nynaeve out on her parentage, etc. Though I can see how the sort of overwhelming presence that she’s trying to use here would work against a lot of people, but it just majorly puts Nynaeve’s back up. I’ve thought a lot about how Rand might react to learning that Moiraine sent the Red Ajah after Mat, but Nynaeve would also have an extremely explosive reaction, especially because she shows a lot of sympathy and understanding for Mat in Primeverse.
23. Aaah, Nynaeve firmly establishing herself as The Protector of the Two Rivers Folk and she is, she so very much is. Zoë Robins is just so perfect as Nynaeve and I love her in the role so much. The casting is so on-point.
24. We get another establishing friendship scene with our three boys. And Mat just instantly can tell something’s wrong with Rand, even as Perrin is just like ??? about it. He susses out that it’s about Egwene and that it was Really Bad in terms of their relationship. Then a little later, we also get the bit where Rand and Perrin give some money to Mat so that he can buy lanterns for the girls. There really is kinda a vibe where Mat is extremely emotionally aware of both Rand and Perrin, and while Rand and Perrin are both emotionally aware of Mat, they are not particularly aware of each other. Which tracks with Perrin having a secret crush on Egwene and that making himself distance himself from Rand (slightly). Rand and Perrin still care about each other but don’t ever really get the one-on-one scenes that Rand and Mat, and Mat and Perrin get. But they did a really good job setting up these three as a close friend group.
25. And we do see that Egwene is also sad over the ending of her relationship with Rand (she’s crying on the bridge) and Nynaeve comes to listen to the wind with her. I do think it’s interesting that they set up both Nynaeve and Egwene as each having strong bonds to two of the boys but somewhat-to-mildly disapproving of the third one -- Nynaeve is very compassionate with Rand and Mat later on, but tells Perrin to go home to his wife; Egwene was in a romance with Rand and trauma-bonds with Perrin, but has a more antagonistic view of Mat. It makes things feel more complex than they were in the books, imo.
26. Oh, hey, that’s a beeswax candle! Nice. I love what they did with the candle ceremony. The show did such an interesting thing where it made the whole Wheel and the reincarnation feels a lot more like a vibrant cultural aspect than it does in the books. It influences the Two Rivers beliefs here and it influences the Tuatha'an people’s beliefs when Perrin talks to them in later episodes. It just really grounds the people’s behavior when it’s attached to these spiritual rituals (and I am saying this as an atheist who does not personally perform any spiritual or religious rituals -- I don’t do it, but it is a very common part of the human experience and it makes sense that it would have this kind of impact on people who live in this world). And the whole idea that the candles light the way for souls to come back and then you have a celebration to remind them of what’s worth coming back for.
27. The little touch of Nynaeve setting out the candle on the other side of the river and wiping away her tears immediately and walking away, because she feels like she needs to be strong for the village and not let them see her show her pain. And then her not dancing at Bel Tine. Those little touches showing how she has to set herself slightly apart from all of them.
28. The horror of the Trolloc attack in the middle of the dancing works really well, imo. We don’t see any of this in the book because we’re entirely in Rand’s PoV but this whole section does set up a lot: we see Mat going back into danger to act as a protector, we set up Perrin having an understandable trauma centered around the violence of the axe, we get Nynaeve trying to protect the villagers and Egwene by her side ready to fight with her, we see the initial panic of the villagers and then them rallying together, we have Padan Fain sneaking off in the middle of the attack, and we get Rand and Tam dealing with that same horror in isolation up mountain. And we get to see how well Aes Sedai and Warders work as a team, which was very cool and useful. They did a good job with the choreo there, because it really does feel like they can anticipate each other’s moves. And Egwene and Nynaeve both get a close look at what Aes Sedai are capable of accomplishing.
29. We don’t get to see Rand and Tam’s conversation in the woods here, but since this is a rewatch, we all know that it happened and will impact Rand’s behavior going forward. He just found out that his dad picked up a kid in the aftermath of a battle and took him home, so he’s got an identity crisis going on in the background of every scene that he’s in from this point forward.
30. I’m just gonna feel bad for Egwene for a moment, because she went through the rough journey of believing that Nynaeve was dead from here until they’re reunited in E6, and then post-E8, she is potentially going to be told/implied to that Rand is dead as well. Anyway, like I mentioned above, I totally understand why Egwene seeks Rand’s comfort in E2 because this is a very traumatic experience.
31. Moiraine and the Winespring collapsing together is such a cool shot. I really love it. Epic. And Lan covering her to shield her from the debris. What an amazingly visual illustration of what a Warder does.
32. Rand arriving back to the absolute ruin of the town. Heartbreaking. Ah, and Egwene telling Rand that Nynaeve ‘is gone’. Just this whole section of people counting up their losses is heartbreaking. And the little moments of connection in the tragedies, like Egwene and Rand hugging each other or Mat putting his hand on Perrin’s shoulder. Interestingly, the hand motions that Moiraine does here to heal Tam are similar from what I remember of how she draws Shadar Logoth’s corruption from Mat, both scenes that Rand witnesses.
33. Rand immediately challenges Moiraine which was another thing that viewers held against him despite it... making sense? He talks about the same sort of logic later on re: Thom as well -- that it’s possible that the convenient stranger who showed up right before the trouble conveniently helped them in order to win their trust. Rand doesn’t know that Moiraine is getting Protagonist Hero Shots.
34. The things that Moiraine tells them (notably: she tells them because Rand challenged her): that an Aes Sedai saw glimpses of the future twenty years ago, that the Dark One is waking, that his whispers are in the backs of their minds, and that the Dragon (the one person who can stand against the Dark One) has been reborn and is one of the four of them. And that they need to leave, because the Trollocs are chasing them, specifically, and if they stay then the town will be destroyed.
35. I’m also intrigued by the implication that maybe the entire village just learned that one of their four kiddos is the Dragon Reborn? Since Moiraine isn’t leaving in secret the way that they did in The Eye of the World. It’s difficult to say, because everyone else is busy working on the town and we don’t get reaction shots. But everyone does know that their four kiddos are very publicly leaving with the Aes Sedai and it’s clear that there were goodbyes, if short ones, so even if they don’t know that the Dragon is involved, they do know more than the Two Rivers knew in the book.
36. Love getting that iconic ‘a wind rose’ line. <3
#wot rewatch#wot on prime#wot#wheel of time#moiraine damodred#lan mandragoran#nynaeve al'meara#egwene al'vere#rand al'thor#mat cauthon#perrin aybara#the wheel of time#wotwatch
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St. Christopher, The Christbearer
Dog-man, Cynocephali Saint, christened by baby Jesus after helping him cross a river.
The Dogheaded people
They were seen by conquerors, explorers, evangelists and described in detail. Alexander the Great, Marco Polo, St. Augustine, Christopher Columbus all described these creatures. You also have Anubis the Egyptian god and St.Christopher who was converted to Catholicism and achieved Saint-hood by helping believers cross a river.
There were letters corresponding with the Vatican on whether or not these dog headed men could be saved or not. The Catholic church was not surprised and simply asked if their eyes were on the front of their heads or on the sides. Apparently dog headed men were nothing new to cultures around the world.
'Ratramnus’s Epistola de Cynocephalis, is a letter written concerning if dog headed men could be saved. The response was yes based on the evidence that they showed the ability to have free will; they wore clothes, kept animals, had relationships, and obeyed laws etc. So they could choose salvation and therefore could be worth ministering to.
( Canaanites = canines, described as cannibals and great fighters who did detestable things.)
In Tibet there was recorded history of over 200,000 living in a village.
They lived in Parts of India along the Mountain Range, there are traces of them in the Celtic lands they lived in Ireland.
St. Christopher is the patron saint for travelers. Dog-headed people often have acted as guides, ferries and Shepards. I will cover this in a future post, which will feature Xolotl and Aztec Gods, including Anubis!
Canines are interwoven into human history.
On these mountains there live men with the head of a dog, whose clothing is the skin of wild beasts. They speak no language, but bark like dogs, and in this manner make themselves understood by each other. Their teeth are larger than those of dogs, their nails like those of these animals, but longer and rounder. They inhabit the mountains as far as the river Indus. Their complexion is swarthy. They are extremely just, like the rest of the Indians with whom they associate. They understand the Indian language but are unable to converse, only barking or making signs with their hands and fingers by way of reply, like the deaf and dumb. They are called by the Indians Calystrii, in Greek Cynocephali (“dog-headed “). [They live on raw meat.] They number about 120,000. Near the sources of this river1 grows a purple flower, from which is obtained a purple dye, as good in quality as the Greek and of an even more brilliant hue. In the same district there is an animal about the size of a beetle, red as cinnabar, with very long feet, and a body as soft as that of a worm. It breeds on the trees which produce amber, eats their fruit and kills them, as the woodlouse destroys the vines in Greece. The Indians crush these insects and use them for dyeing their robes and tunics and anything else they wish. The Cynocephali living on the mountains do not practice any trade but live by hunting. When they have killed an animal they roast it in the sun. They also rear numbers of sheep, goats, and asses, drinking the milk of the sheep and whey made from it. They eat the fruit of the Siptakhora, whence amber is procured, since it is sweet. They also dry it and keep it in baskets, as the Greeks keep their dried grapes. They make rafts which they load with this fruit together with well-cleaned purple flowers and 260 talents of amber, with the same quantity of the purple dye, and 1000 additional talents of amber, which they send annually to the king of India. They exchange the rest for bread, flour, and cotton stuffs with the Indians, from whom they also buy swords for hunting wild beasts, bows, and arrows, being very skillful in drawing the bow and hurling the spear. They cannot be defeated in war, since they inhabit lofty and inaccessible mountains. Every five years the king sends them a present of 300,000 bows, as many spears, 120,000 shields, and 50,000 swords. They do not live in houses, but in caves. They set out for the chase with bows and spears, and as they are very swift of foot, they pursue and soon overtake their quarry. The women have a bath once a month; the men do not have a bath at all, but only wash their hands. They anoint themselves three times a month with oil made from milk and wipe themselves with skins. The clothes of men and women alike are not skins with the hair on, but skins tanned and very fine. The richest wear linen clothes, but they are few in number. They have no beds, but sleep on leaves or grass. He who possesses the greatest number of sheep is considered the richest, and so in regard to their other possessions. All, both men and women, have tails above their hips, like dogs, but longer and more hairy. They are just, and live longer than any other men, 170, sometimes 200 years (Ctesias, “Indica”, from Photius I).
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Do you have some queer book recommendations, then? Regarding the recent post?
OH BOY DO I!
I'm a professional bookseller and try to get paid for my opinions but let's be honest, when someone asks for queer book recs you are going to struggle to shut me up two hours later
Amateur by Thomas Page McBee
This transcendent memoir chronicles the author's experience training to fight in a charity boxing match as an absolute novice--and by extension his exploration of masculinity as a transgender man. Beautiful writing about what it means to be a man in 21st-century America.
Bingo Love by Tee Franklin et al
Bingo Love made me cry on an Amtrak train. It's a wonderful romance about two women who fall in love as teenagers, but are separated by their families, only to come into each other's lives again when they are grandmothers.
The Rules do Not Apply by Ariel Levy
Ariel Levy's blistering memoir is a beautiful piece of writing that centers around a time of her life that can only be described as devastating. Perhaps it is her journalistic training that keeps this story from feeling sentimental. I loved every word.
The Manor House Governess:A Novel by C A Castle
This is a modern queer take on Jane Eyre (which was never really my thing -- Heathcliff rules, Rochester drools) in which a gender queer young person takes a job as essentially a governess for the daughter of a wealthy British landholder. The household is full of mystery, including the girl's brooding older brother who our hero is undeniably drawn to.
Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson
I've read this book so many times.
The reader never learns the gender of the narrator of this love story--which would feel like a gimmick in the hands of a lesser writer. Winterson uses the premise to explore the nature of love and self.
The Magic Fish (A Graphic Novel) by Trung Le Nguyen
This is a gorgeous coming of age story, full of art nouveau-esque illustration, fairy tales, immigrant longing and struggles, and young queer hearts just pulsing with life.
You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson
**read this one when you need the same feeling as you got from Red White and Royal Blue but with a little less sex**
This book charmed my pants off. Liz is a wonderful, memorable heroine, with a lot of obstacles in her way, but that doesn't stop her from finding her path forward. I laughed, I cried, I didn't want it to end.
Check, Please! Book 1 by Ngozi Ukazu
**read this when you need the same feeling you got from Heartstopper but with a little more sex**
You don't HAVE to love ice hockey to be totally charmed by Eric "Bitty" Bittle, the newest member of Samwell University's men's hockey team, and by Jack Zimmerman, the team's moody, stern, and totally gorgeous captain. Along with Book 2, presented here are Bitty's 4 years as a college hockey player, and the lessons he learns about life--and himself--in that time.
Outlawed by Anna North
A gender-bent, feminist, alternate universe Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid retelling, set in a world where the fledgling United States was decimated by a flu epidemic in the early 1800s. The remaining colonizer population is dedicated wholeheartedly to fertility and childbearing, so women (like Ada, our heroine) who cannot bear healthy babies are sent off to convents at best, or tried as witches at worst. She teams up with the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, and her adventures begin.
The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson
High-brow science fiction that takes on issues of class (& related issues of race), corporate power, and personal identity.
Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi
A novel like none I've ever read before. Emezi drew from their own experiences for this narrative about self and power and sex, integrated with Nigerian folklore.
Mortal Follies: A Novel by Alexis Hall
A lesbian Regency romance narrated by Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream? Yes please! A sexy, fun, fantastical tale that's kicked off with the protagonist falling under a curse that promises ever increasing scandal and danger.
The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri
A lush, thrilling sapphic fantasy set in an Indian inspired world full of dangerous magic and even more dangerous politics.
Mrs. S by K Patrick
Mrs S is gorgeous and casually devastating, a sexy slow burn obsessive forbidden queer love story. Every note is exactly right.
I'm stopping there cuz it's late and I've had a day but this is just pulling a fraction of the titles on my staff picks list.
#queer books#booksellers of tumblr#book recommendations#i could do this all day#please if you buy any of these don't get them from amzn#please do ask for them in your local library so your county knows there is interest in queer books
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More medic projection writing I am a raging inferno and winter is my fuel
~========~
I am unhappy.
There is a calendar above my door with a small red 'x', still reeking of alcoholic scent and prone to smearing. It lays drying along the number reading twelve. Above it is an ordeal of characters illustrated in a ridiculous situation with the year, 1958, off by five years. I know this because it is not Thursday as that twelve reads. Alas, I made do with the poor supplies I was given. It serves as a good distraction above my tattered cot that ought to have been replaced many seasons ago. In fact, it's the only thing I can keep my eyes on at this time of night.
I hear others through the thin wood walls throwing around a light atmosphere with one another. I'm well aware it is self sabotage to not lift myself up and throw myself in the midst of them and instead sit in a dark, dirty closet only able to fit myself if I scrunch up my knees just enough to where it's uncomfortable. Through the thin and cobweb-lined window I can see the outside brings fresh snow that will cover each bullet fired today and melt in spring to unearth them. Nature had a cycle like I do, which was a comforting tune to fade into. Both of us hide the ugly of our fall under layers of white. Fortunately, I'm not as easy to melt. It took very few times before I had taught himself comrades were temporary and family was burden. The one time I had gotten myself wrapped up in such things as relationships on this team ended in a horrific disaster of my mentality switching between euphoric pages and flipping to chapters of social dysphoria with internal loneliness. No matter how much I threw himself at opportunities to break down this little cage I fashioned myself in, there was no interception. I had given up once and for all.
Even doves brought no companionship anymore. A dear, tender place in my heart is reserved for those gorgeous breathing treasures. Yet they cannot talk to me. They cannot comfort me. I cannot feel a loving wing wrap around my back and tell me I am loved. What a twisted little thing that is. I've imagined that exact scenario more than there are veins in my wrist and yet it disgusts me like no poison can. Even now, my nose scrunches in disdain at such a foolish thought as affection. I'd be a liar if I were not to mention how this was tailored, too. It's a vicious turn of desiring such companionship and touch then being a snarling savage at the first cautious reach of a hand.
Yes, an animal describes it quite well. I must not bring myself to that metaphor again. Each hint of wild thought such as freeing myself of mankind and running through earth under my bare skin is almost an escape in itself. I always drift to being like a wolf, ears pinned and eyes narrowed while my tail makes waves in the wind and my paws scratch the ground with callused flesh. Near the end of my travels a crack splits the sky and fires through my skull until I'm a panting, miserable beast on this cold and unforgiving soil as the men who struck the clouds come to catch their prize. What joy it is to be praised like that! A worthy creature for taxidermy, or surely study! Yet when they sling me over their shoulders and throw me in a pit of rotting foxes, I know that it was only a dream. Such a fantasy is better kept deep within me, yes, yes. So is that far buried desire for death.
It all wraps back to what I crave like a starving man. Importance. I could have medallion after medallion tacked on my wall with silver nails and I'd still long to be strung up instead. Not a pleasant thing to most but to me, oh, what a blissful thought. Autopsies are envied by my cold eyes and unable to be executed by my hands. I become lost in the idea of our roles being turned and my own corpse having fingers pressed into it at every angle, admiring that I used to be a beating soul who strained each function of my weary vessel until they all collapsed. My body could be severed into pieces unidentifiable by man, yet if one person were to pick up the piece and let a flash of a memory dart their mind, I'd find my death a significant victory.
Death is as fleeting as life and just as permanent. That's what is brought to me when I hear a thud against the wall and feel a faint vibration in my head followed by the freshly post-pubescent voice laughing beyond reach. My paws stop running along those leaves, and they pause to hear that crack. None occur. Only the drift of that calendar page flitting up and down is heard, and the twelve now solidified in ink. My ears are still perked for the fire to reign through my skull, but the more I sit and wait, the less likely are the gamesmen to see me or raise their instruments against my flesh. I turn around and trudge quietly through the path where I came. Perhaps tonight death is not my savior, but my study. That bullet doesn't quite have the lead loaded deep in the chamber. I am alive.
And I am unhappy.
~=======~
(≧▽≦)ﾉ*.✧
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SHINSEKAI - Magicians of ES: Chapter 6
Location: Tohoku Town (SHINSEKAI)
Characters: Mika & Shuu
< Ten or so minutes later. >
Mika: Ngh~... The Mado-nees (fake) talked about some confusin’ stuff and then left.
Fufu. Even if I know it was two middle-aged men on the inside, for some reason, it still felt pretty lovely when they looked like that.
Appearances are super important. Maybe I should start payin’ more attention to that sorta stuff too~ I’ve always left it to Onii-chan or the makeup artist.
Shuu: …………
Mika: Onii-chan? Uh, can’t he hear me? Did he also mute me too…?
Nooooo! Don’t ignore meeee! If I can’t even be within your field of vision, then I… I–!
Shuu: Oh, quiet you! I am listening to you! I won’t be treating you as if you “don’t exist”, so calm down!
Mika: O-Oshi-san…♪
Shuu: Non! That’s the second time! You’ve already failed to comply with the “order” twice in this conversation! Watch what you’re saying!
Mika: Ngh, I’m sorry. I have a habit of forgettin’ things pretty quickly.
Shuu: Hmph. Humans are built to forget the things that are unimportant and of no value.
Perhaps you’re someone as cold as ice who feels indifferent to everything.
Mika: Nghh? That’s not true~ Why would you describe me like I’m some rotten human being? I’m just an idiot!
Shuu: I know. I was joking so I’d appreciate it if you laughed.
Mika: What!? Oshi– Onii-chan, I couldn’t tell it was a joke from a mile away! There’s no way I could’ve laughed!
Shuu: Fufu. In any case, it seems we don’t really need to focus too much on the “orders”. It looks like the management doesn’t really care about us.
Mika: Ngh, really? How do you know that?
Shuu: The man by the name of “Gatekeeper” showed up in Mademoiselle’s guise a while ago, but he didn’t seem interested in us at all, didn’t he?
He said those exact words, after all.
He is the chairman of the “SS” Administration Committee and is the one behind everything that has to do with “SS”. I heard from Kanata that “Gatekeeper” contacts him occasionally from someplace else.
And it appears this “Gatekeeper” is meddling in a lot of idol affairs in the other regions.
But he looked as though he simply had no interest in us. That in itself does irritate me, though.
Is he underestimating us, thinking that we have yet to adapt to this “SHINSEKAI” and will fall to our ruin?
Or could it be that he has been warned not to touch us by someone who even he cannot easily control?
Mika: And who’s that?
Shuu: I assume it would be Seiya Hidaka. I thought the one who started meddling with us was “Gatekeeper”, someone from the management.
But judging from the conversation we just saw, it was Seiya Hidaka who was hanging around us.
Not that I know what his goal is. There shouldn’t be any common ground between us, so I wonder at what point he had his eyes on us.
Mika: Ngh… Rather than “us”, it feels like he’s got his eyes on me.
Shuu: You? Why?
Mika: Who knows…? He mentioned before that he wanted to make me his successor, though?
Shuu: Hmm. Wouldn’t that be an honour? He is an influential figure who is called the last active super idol in the entertainment industry.
It wouldn’t hurt to make connections with him.
Mika: Aha, connections? That’s somethin’ I never would have imagined you’d say, Onii-chan.
Shuu: Hmph. I learnt a thing or two overseas. No matter how talented the “real deal” is, it seems one cannot simply continue pursuing the things one likes.
Art finally becomes art the moment its value is discovered.
Even if the greatest piece is created by completely removing others, it won’t be acknowledged by anyone and will only sink into a swamp of mud.
Perhaps I would be able to indulge in that satisfaction, but my current body doesn’t only belong to me.
Mika: Huh? Oshi-san, are you pregnant?
Shuu: Are there maggots squirming inside that brain of yours?
Good grief. We have known each other for quite some time now but I still cannot understand what goes on in your head.
Just what is Seiya Hidaka thinking as well, selecting you to be his successor?
Mika: Ngh~? Yeah, he has a son in the same industry already, so he should’ve gotten him to be his successor.
Shuu: In this day and age, being related by blood may just be something akin to an illusion that has faded in value.
In any case, Seiya Hidaka showed us how to leave this mad world called “SHINSEKAI” just as he left.
Mika: Yeah. He said we just had to head over to the few log-out spots that are located in the town and complete the specified procedure, right?
Shuu: Indeed. It appears it’s also possible to contact the management and leave by force that way, but if we don’t leave using the official procedures, it’ll be dangerous as it puts a lot of strain on our brains.
Mika: Looks like it, huh… All this talk about brains and stuff, it’s scary…
A log-out spot in this neighbourhood was the samurai residence with a lake in the garden, right?
Shuu: Hmph. This is supposed to be a fantasy world so why is this town designed purely in a Japanese style, or rather, present-day Japan?
It’s just this town that seems out of place from the rest and that bothers me.
Mika: I think they’re just tryin’ to make it look more like the Tohoku region, though. It all feels really familiar to me so I think it’s nice~ I wouldn’t know what to do if I was suddenly thrown into a world with dragons and goblins.
I do like stuff like that too but I know it’s all made-up, so I can relax and have fun. What I normally experience are nightmares.
There are a lot of NPCs with weird appearances and they don’t look at me weirdly ‘cause of the colours of my eyes.
So I thought that’s nice.
Shuu: Hmph. This “SHINSEKAI” is apparently a utopia the Boy created, so he must have also taken the minority into account.
Mika: That’s true. I just had a thought, but if there really was a utopia with no discrimination or negative feelings…
Would idols also be able to live there?
Shuu: …Meaning?
Mika: Umm, I can’t really explain it.
But people experience anguish and sorrow so they seek idols to heal them and give them a good time.
They try to gather those positive feelings that they couldn’t produce themselves.
I used to have a complex about my eyes in the past but even though some people still think it’s strange, it’s also recognised as one of my unique characteristics now.
They say it’s my own charm, something that no one else has.
It’s true but this is a world that’s already complete without dark things or things that no one likes…
Will I be wanted and loved as myself and as the idol I am right now in that world?
Is there really a place for idols in a utopia where everyone can all lead happy lives equally?
Shuu: …………
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Talk Hockey to Me
(a game of tags)
i was tagged by @starscelly tysm king i give you a respectable high five
1. The thing that got you hooked on hockey
the second game i went to! the first one was good for sure (we got the fun lil borgy and matty christmas tree video during one of the breaks) but the second one!! i actually looked into stuff and it was everything ig you’d want from a game? my team won, we had some fun lil fights idk.. and then afterwards i stumbled upon rpf which. game changer lowkey (i read several fics having no idea what any of the people i was reading about looked like which was fun but we figured it out)
2. Your first ever fandom friend
i think probably cel tbf? and i have an irl friend who’s into hockey but i think there’s a strong chance they’re more normal about it than i am
3. The jersey you would most like to own
oooof tough question. either a stars jersey or a devils jersey i think. i’m hesitant to get one that’s a specific player’s bc i don’t want to have one for a team that they get traded from (looks pointedly at my several month-old un-customized kraken jersey) the ever changing world of sportssss
4. YOUR player (you only get ONE so choose wisely)
i am not choosing. you cannot make me. (it changes too often)
5. A pairing that deserves more fic
rn my answer is cyork/tfoerster but a week ago my answer was probably 2339 and two weeks ago my answer was probably 1053 and before that it was probably 2072 and before that it was probably scasey/gbrindley and before that it was probably nmoyle/nblankenburg and before that… (i’m stopping now but i could go on)
6. Your favorite on ice moment
oh gosh… i don’t really think i have a particular answer! i’m a cellies girlie who enjoys when the little men hit each other so. if any of my blorbos have ever done any of that sort of thing that can be my favorite (yes this a very general answer no i don’t care) actually maybe slaf’s first goal celly that wasn’t a celly so much as it was him cursing at zach brown ((?)i think that was who it was)
~link someone else’s art/fic/etc that you love and think everyone should check out~
i have yet to figure out how to link things so instead i will give you names and authors and you will take them. okay? okay.
still burnt from kissing your face by teethtilt (1053 fic with THE most delectable descriptions… i have never been more engaged by snow cones and swelteringly warm days)
tumblr user @/starscelly’s band au. (special shout-out to his one piece where wyatt is sat at a merch stand with the best body language you’ve ever seen)
on the banks of kettle creek by honeydripping (tknp fic that is soooo yummy. the way the author describes smells? ooof you don’t even know)
two thousand miles away, but i can see you by lovethygoalie (kraken magic fic that is very fun. gobbling up the way the author writes dynamics)
after hours by kerfluffle (cam/tyson fic that is very yay. if there is next to nothing in their tag at least we have the works of kerfluffle who is fantastic)
cool summers by counthestars (rule63 umich fic that has my heart. it literally feels like summer in my brain and i’m obsessed)
any xhekuraj fic by novembrs (loveee their trans arber fics never not thinking about them)
this was probably too many and i could go on! but it’s my response to an ask game and i do what i want
~link something you made and are proud of/want people to see~
again drk how to link things but my art tag is ‘me and my knack of making people look ~almost~ right’ or something like that and i also like my dream tag (vcug’s hockey dreams) just bc it’s fun. not really proud of it i just enjoy how my subconscious produces absolute bullshit
tagging @spiceberrie but no pressure if you don’t want to do this!
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2022 writing review
tagged by: @rosesau. honestly? i'm pretty sure other people have tagged me but i wanted to wait until the very last day of december to do this because i knew i still had one more fic (101 Ways) in me so! i am sorry if you tagged me in this towards the middle/beginning of december, i forgot but i still ly
1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 14
2. Word count posted for the year: 90,600
3. Fandoms I wrote for: 9-1-1
4. Pairings: buck/eddie
5. Story with the most:
kudos: hear me now (1733)
bookmarks: also hear me now (506)
comment threads: aaaand here me now again (83)
6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): bite your tongue to watch it bleed was just a stream of conscious thought turned into fic. I put Eddie on Frank's couch but it was mostly therapy for me.
7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): CATWS au because it was the most disingenuous thing i have ever written lol
8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: I've returned to Charlie (@safeashousespdf)'s comments on the bullet in my gun several times and think about them often
SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UP OKAY THIS IS SO GOOD. The use of flashbacks, the way there are all these different bits and bobs and styles all gnarled together and how it reflects all the chaos of Eddie's thoughts and his conversation with Frank and then it all just-- Freezes. Like I physically felt time slow down. Idk how you did it but that whole long flashback about Alex and high school and all of that stuff, I could literally feel it taking place between seconds. And the DIALOGUE of Eddie and Frank just having a go at each other like this?? Oh what a serve. I love when it's busy at the therapy appointment and the closeted gay men get mean <3 ALSO** RAMON AS A LONG HAUL TRUCKER WORKS SO WELL AND IS SOMETHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED.....
ALSO SIDE NOTE: "Careful with that body, boy. People will see everything you don't want them two." I'M SO FUCKING OBSESSED WITH THIS LINE. I love when author's address characters directly for a brief moment because it's like, who is speaking?? Is Eddie saying this to himself? Is his father? Is it someone else? Are we breaking the fourth wall by acknowledging Eddie as a character, trapped within a narrative that doesn't want him to be happy??? IS IT ALL OF THE ABOVE???
And the way you refer to his body as a secondary object: something he owns rather than something he is. Something that he can commodify, he can sell it to the military or to his father or manipulate it so that nobody can see who he really is. That also fucked me up. Anyway this was incredible, Jack.
9. A time when writing was really, really hard: Buddie Big Bang was one the worst writing experiences of my life. Will I probably do it again? Sure. But I hated it in the moment.
10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Writing smut in CATWS AU and Bittersweet and Cruel. I've never wanted to write smut, and still don't want to. Hated every second of it, never doing that again.
11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: Honestly? I have quite a few lines that had me shook, like, purely just cannot believe they came from my brain. But the first two bits that came to mind are
across our great divide:
El Paso has a way of drawing blood, all hometowns do. That's how your roots grow, after all, right through the soil upon which you bled and then back up under your skin, forever tying you to the land that birthed you.
speak in the silence:
[...] As if love is a currency, a bartered exchange between two distant parties. Hell, maybe in his family, that is all it will ever be. But that is not is not love. Love is a garden that leaves blossoms on your tongue and teeth, planting seeds every time you kiss the cheek of someone you adore and cradle. Love is soot under your nails and smoke in your skin, because love always leaves the ninety-nine to save the one. Love is the giggle of your son pressed against the cotton of your shirt, and a rosepetal birthmark above a strong brow set in a kind face, and a home-cooked meal spread out on a long wooden table. Love, Eddie knows now, is an action verb; it is not just an inkstain in Merriam-Webster's; it lives and breathes and weaves and anchors. It exists, even if it runs dry within the walls of his parents' home.
12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I finally became more settled into my identity as a writer; I know what I like. I know what I don't. I know what ways I still want to challenge myself, what things aren't for me. I took risks with enormous payoff and I took risks that I maybe shouldn't have, but I did them and that's what matters most at the end of it, since the past cannot be rewritten.
13. How do you hope to grow next year: Not sure! I guess I'll figure it out as the opportunities come along.
14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc): @kitkatpancakestack @malinaa and @rosesau, you guys challenge and inspire my writing all the time so thank you <3
15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: *gestures wildly at bite your tongue*
16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: You will never, ever, ever write like anyone/everyone else. Even your favorite authors, so please stop trying. Embrace who you are as a writer and, if you don't know who that is, explore it. You are the only one who can/will ever write like you so don't hide behind trying to write like others; it won't work and it'll only make you miserable.
17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: Most of my projects are for IRL writing, but! My goals are to: finish the second draft of my {REDACTED NOVEL}, explore the bounds of an idea I have for a short story collection in the same universe, and publish a few fun fic things along the way :) :) :)
18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read. @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @extasiswings @sabitchhh @kitkatpancakestack @kirkaut @rewritetheending @raisesomehale @malinaa <333
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