#like who invented backgrounds??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gyuwoncheol · 6 months

Text

Slowly; All At Once

Pair: Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, best friends to lovers with Mingyu, boyfriend material!Mingyu, slight angst.

Summary: Kim Mingyu fell in love with you slowly, but you fell in love with him all at once.

Warnings: short hair Mingyu (yes this deserves a warning. He looks too good), rowdy house party setting, mentions of alcohol, angst (but not with Mingyu), mentions/allusions to a panic attack/sensory overload, kissing, fluff because mingyu is so sweet and protective 😩 Half proofread.

WC: 5k

Author's Note: listen, short hair Mingyu is SO boyfriend coded okay, it just does things to me.

“Gyu?” You spoke as loudly as you could.

“What’s up?” Your best friend answered through a yawn and you would’ve regretted disturbing him so late in the night but you really needed him now.

“Gyu, i’m so sorry..”

Mingyu sat up from his position in bed, the drowsiness in him suddenly gone at the sound of your voice trembling. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his senses heightened, suddenly now hearing the loud music in your background.

“Could.. if you’re free, c-could you come get me?”

Mingyu was already slipping his shirt on and turning off his tv right after you asked. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are you in danger?” He quizzed, rushing down the stairs to grab his car keys and the hoodie hanging off the hooks.

“I’m at Jamie’s house. So many people, I jus’ wan’go home,” you slurred, stumbling into a corner of the house party you were at.

You could hear the sound of his engine rumbling to a start and somehow, that made you breathe a little easier. That was the thing about your best friend, when you needed him, he would be there, any time, any day, no questions asked. “Ok hang tight. I’ll be there.”

The line went dead as you cowered a little more to the corner of the house party you were at. The more the crowd grew, the more out of place you felt. Sure, most faces were familiar to you as they were the same ones that walked around your school building but no one was really close enough to you. Jamie, herself, was nowhere to be found. You weren't a stranger to house parties, you actually enjoyed them but this one really made you feel like you didn't belong. The crowd was quite rowdy, noise was obnoxiously loud, people were shoving drinks to you left and right, frat boys— both those senior and junior to you— were hitting on you, and, well, the sight of your ex-boyfriend's tongue down your ex-roommate's throat just wasn't exactly what you expected to see tonight.

You wished you had stayed home instead or spent your Friday night with your best friend watching Shark Tank episodes and talking about all the inventions you both could make and would definitely get invested on. But no, you had begged off from Mingyu this one time, telling him that you wanted to let loose a little bit and hang with some of your girl friends.

The night started fine, you and the girls having cocktails after dinner at a bar nearby, until one of them had all but dragged you guys to the house party a common friend was throwing. What you didn't know was all their boyfriends had already been there, eventually leaving you alone as soon you all walked in the doors.

You wanted to get out of there but as you looked at the volume of people in front of you, you were sure you wouldn't be able to push through them without getting pushed around. You felt trapped, your breaths becoming shorter whilst you tried to calm your heart. You were in need of air and of water real bad.

"Hello?" you picked up your phone at first ring.

It was Mingyu. "Where are you?"

"I-i'm by the end of the hall towards the kitchen at the back."

Mingyu grimaced at the mixed smell of alcohol, cigarettes, sweat and weed in the place, not to mention the huge crowd that the party had gathered. He spotted numerous acquaintances and friends who all excitedly greeted him, offering him shots and beers but he ignored all of them, brain laser focused at finding you. It took him about five minutes before he reached the hall you were in and immediately spotted you thanks to his height which allowed him a “bird’s eye view.”

"Y/N," you felt a towering presence stumble in front of your crouched position, but was immediately comforted at the owner of the voice. It’s a really good thing you knew his voice well because you were still getting used to his new and much shorter haircut.

"Gyu!" You sighed in relief, hands immediately gripping his forearm as you steadied yourself against him. He kept a protective hand on your waist, caging you in between him and the corner to shield you from the crowd. He noticed the natural blush on your cheeks from the alcohol and the slightly far away look in your eyes. He could tell you weren’t exactly drunk, but he could also read the fear and sadness in them. He gave you a little bit more time to steady your breathing and comfort yourself in his presence, whispering "it's okay's" and "you're alright, I'm here."

"Gyu, I'm dizzy," you declared. You weren't drunk, just slightly tipsy at most, it was the stuffiness in the room that had you wanting air.

Mingyu glanced back at the amount of people in the hall, mentally mapping the fastest way out to the closest door, before turning back to you. "Y/n,” he cupped your cheek to guide your eyes to his, "We'll make our way out, okay? Hold on to me?" He laid out his large hand for you to take and you gripped it like a vice as you gave him a small nod.

There are many reasons to be thankful for Mingyu's height and build, and tonight, as he pushed through the crowds with one hand tightly intertwined with yours, was one of them. You were only but a few steps away from the door when your face collided with Mingyu's back. Someone had blocked his way and you were too slow to stop yourself when he did.

"heeey leaving so soon?!" A very familiar but very drunk voice slurred. It was Jung, your asshole of an ex-boyfriend. "You just got here,bro."

"Not here to party. Just—"

"Oh come on, Mingyu! At least take a shot!"

"Yeah!!" another party goer whom you recognize to be from the same frat as Jung cheered on, "In fact why don't you and y/n take a shot together!" Two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila were suddenly raised at you both. You made a face, hiding yourself behind your best friend’s broad back, hoping it would be enough to make you disappear.

"Y/n!" Jung sang-song in a way that had Mingyu gripping your hands even tighter, "Why don't you take a shot for me, baby? It's still too early to call it a—"

"Don't touch her." Mingyu growled at your ex who was attempting to bypass him and snake an arm around your waist, "Let’s go, y/n" Mingyu pulled at you, desperately hoping to just get the both of you out of there.

As you stumbled past your ex, you yelped when you felt his hand pull on your free wrist, almost yanking you away from Mingyu's hold. "Cmon, baby. Just one more shot. Like old times." A disgusting smirk was plastered on Jung's face, one you wanted to wipe off with a punch.

“I said. Don’t. Touch. Her.” Mingyu repeated louder and firmer this time, pulling your caught wrist and now purposely standing in full height to tower over your drunken ex.

“Gyu, let’s go,” you whisper, noticing that the exchange between both boys have suddenly gained the crowd’s attention.

“Oh come on Mingyu, it’s just a shot!” One of the other guys pushed.

With a roll of his eyes, Mingyu took the shot glass and downed the liquor easily. But it wasn’t until he took the second shot of tequila— supposedly yours— and poured it down his throat that the crowd erupted in cheers. “Happy?” Mingyu sneered at Jung, “now, let us go.”

“Still her savior, huh?” Your ex called out, making Mingyu freeze in his tracks as he tried to navigate through the crowd, “you still the best friend? Or are you finally the boyfriend now?”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat at what you just heard. But nothing could have prepared you for the next thing that tumbled out of your best friend’s mouth.

“So what if I was?” Mingyu looked back at your ex bitterly, eyes filled with anger, “At least I know I’d treat her right.”

You had no chance to see the sour, defeated face Jung sported, but the crowd’s ‘oooh’s’ were enough to let you know that Mingyu definitely had the last laugh in that exchange. Everyone had even made space for you both to successfully exit, not wanting to mess with the 6 foot 2 man.

Mingyu watched you carefully as you stabilized your breathing, the fresh air paired with the water he had just given you was slowly erasing the dizziness you felt earlier. He had his hands in his pockets while you looked up at him, your back leaning on his car, and a thick silence in the air. You wanted to say something, you wanted to say a lot of things actually, but didn’t know how to start.

“Here, put this on,” Mingyu said softly, grabbing his hoodie from the back seat and pulling it over your shivering frame since your dress did little to protect you from the cold. You hummed in satisfaction, the warmth of the cotton shielding your exposed skin and the smell of him grounding you even more.

“Thank you, Gyu. For saving me. And for taking that shot.” You squeaked, looking down at the ground, wanting to say many other things but it’s all you could put together for now.

Mingyu’s mind however, wandered some place else. Like how you were still so beautiful right now? Looking so tiny in his hoodie, cheeks flushed and your makeup a bit smeared. To him, you were still the prettiest thing his eyes had seen. God he just wanted to kiss you. If only you were in your right mind, no alcohol in your system and not reeling back from what could’ve been a panic attack. And maybe, if only it didn’t ruin the friendship.

‘I’d die for you,’ is what Mingyu would’ve wanted to say. “Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it… as long as you’re okay. I mean… you are okay, right?”

He stood closely in front of you, watching intently as you tried to form words but your growing silence did nothing to quell his worries.

“Y/n,” your best friend’s voice firm, “did something happen back there? Are you hurt? You think your drink got spiked? Did someone harra—“

“No, no!” You confirmed, sensing the agitation in his voice, “nothing happened to me. Was just really overwhelmed with the crowd… the boys were annoying, the girls left me, and I… i didn’t even know Jung was dating Cass now.”

Ah, there it is, Mingyu thought. It always has something to do with your stupid ex.

“Cass? Your ex roommate, Cass?”

“Yeah.”

“Dating or not, they were definitely making out,” Mingyu could hear both the pain and disgust in your voice, “i just don’t get it.” Yeah, neither does Mingyu, why were you still so hung up on this—

“I’m over him, you know?”

“What?” Mingyu looked at you so quickly, he might’ve gotten a whiplash

“I’m over him.” You confirmed and Mingyu would be lying if he said he didn’t want to just jump in joy right there and then. But your face still looked sour, angry even, like you had just been forced to chew on a whole lemon. “I realise now I was such an idiot for even loving him. But Cass? Really? My ex-roommate? I don’t know.. I know we’ve broken up months ago but it just feels weird. She knew how much he hurt me.. she even wanted to, and I quote, ‘stab him in the gym,’ but now she’s practically dry humping him in the middle of the worst house party known to man?!” You frustrated, your voice reaching a higher pitch than you had expected only to fall down to a very quiet whisper, “i just… I can’t help but feel betrayed.”

Mingyu noticed a lone tear roll down your cheek, the back of your hand immediately wiping it away. He knew how close you were to Cass, he still remembers how you cried to him when she suddenly cut off communication with you and moved out of your apartment. For the longest time, you had thought you did something wrong and had beaten yourself up over it. But now it all just made sense.

Your best friend pulled you in for an embrace, mumbling about how you deserve better and how he’s sorry this happened to you.

“God,” you scoffed, “i’m sorry, i’m such a loser… everything about tonight just makes me feel so… alone.”

“Hey now!” Mingyu pulled back harshly, holding you firmly by the shoulders, an arms length distance between you both. “I take offense to that. I’m literally right here, you know.”

“Exactly. When you really could’ve been sleeping peacefully, or maybe even be on a date with some pretty girl. Instead you’re here, rescuing your pathetic excuse of a best friend.”

“Well.. you know what?” Mingyu challenged, pulling you in again into his arms for a warm hug, “there’s nowhere else i’d rather be. Now let’s get you home, yeah?” He assured instead, opening the door to the passenger seat of his car. You slumped into the seat and Mingyu went as far as strapping your seat belt for you, your lips just mere centimeters away from his. He stopped to look at you, eyes scanning yours before dropping to your lips momentarily and then back to your eyes again. You could feel the tension in the air and you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until he finally moved away and closed the door gently.

Mingyu couldn’t help but notice a few tears escaping you as you looked out the car window, lone tears slowly falling on your cheek. You couldn’t really shake the idea from your brain of your roommate and your ex getting together, the betrayal just squeezing your heart in pain. Maybe the alcohol also just heightened your sensitivity too. When the car stopped at a red light, a gentle squeeze on your left hand had you looking up to your best friend, soft eyes matching yours as he flashed you a lopsided smile. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. You knew his action was that of comfort, as if to tell you you weren’t alone.

Mingyu kept his hand tightly on yours throughout the ride, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand and that small action really helped keep the sad thoughts away. It wasn’t until you reached the exit of the freeway when you noticed Mingyu suddenly take a left turn.

“Where are we going?” You squeaked

“Mine,” Mingyu confirmed, “is that ok? I just don’t wanna leave you alone for now, and i don’t think the sight of Cass’s empty room is something you’re ready to see either.”

You pondered on his suggestion quickly and knew it made sense. If anything, your best friend’s comforting presence is exactly what you needed right now.

The moment you got to his place, everything was like clockwork. He let you shower and freshen up, then handed you one of his large shirts and one of your old shorts you kept at his place for sleepover nights like these.

A bottle of water was left by the bathroom door when you had finished. Drink this all before you go back down, Mingyu had written in a note and you cooed at the thoughtfulness of your best friend. As you got to changing, you couldn’t help but notice just how much comfort his place brought you. His bedroom— and the rest of the apartment— was littered with photos of the both of you through the years. Your favorite conditioner was in his bathroom. He had a little basket in his closet that had things for you— hair brush, your favorite makeup remover, a few of your skin care items (which he bought himself), some old clothes, and even sanitary pads. You smiled at the sight of the little disney nightlight he had bought especially for you last year because even though he liked his lights off when he sleeps, he knew you hated the dark. You knew he kept some of your favorite snacks in his pantry, and he always had a pint of your favorite ice cream in his freezer. You were grinning by the time you had thought of all these things. You were feeling way too giddy and and then it hit you, those are butterflies you feel in your stomach. You felt like a tidal wave just hit you, your brain suddenly replaying every encounter with Mingyu and the longer it went on, the more you felt your heart being squeezed. You’re reminded how he didn’t even hesitate to pick you up tonight, or take that shot for you, or how he might’ve just thrown a punch at Jung if he so much laid another finger on you. You remember the tension in the car when your lips were inches apart. Yup, definitely butterflies. You simultaneously cursed yourself for not seeing it sooner. For not feeling it sooner. Do best friends really go this far? Could Kim Mingyu be in love with you? Better yet, did you just fall in love with him? There’s no way. Right? Mingyu was simply a really nice guy, and he would be especially kind to you, his best friend, and you are just very, very appreciative of it.

Yeah, just best friends.

That’s all.

So why do you suddenly want it to be more?

Mingyu, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves in his living room. The events of tonight made him feel like he might not be able to hold back his feelings any longer. Seeing you tonight, your helpless self in such a huge crowd of people and then silently crying in the car just awakened something in him, like a very strong urge to protect you and embrace you in so much love that you won't ever remember the feeling of being hurt. He loves you very much, for quite some time now actually, and not just in the best friend kind anymore, he knows that much. But he can't quite figure out when it happened. There was no specific moment or grand gesture that made him think "i'm in love with my best friend." Your friendship certainly began platonic, no hidden intentions or attraction. It started when both your chaotic selves ended up paired for a group work in freshman year and you just haven't been separated since then. Over time, he's unconsciously made more space for you in his heart. What started as him giving you food every now and then so you could test his culinary experiments eventually turned into packed meals every Tuesdays and Thursdays when your classes stretched until 8 in the evening. He began omitting mustard in the dishes he cooks for you because of your allergy, even though he personally loves it. He once helped you do groceries and noticed you liked to buy your juices and milks in large cartons, and so he eventually scheduled his grocery days the same as yours so you wouldn't have to carry everything by yourself. You brought out the best in him. He witnessed your thoughtfulness and kindness and that made him want to be a better person for himself. One day, when he cracked a lame joke, he realised nothing sounds sweeter than your laugh. Mingyu always listened to you, even when you spoke nonsense most times. Your crazy ideas were something he questioned a lot before but now it's what makes him laugh the most. Kim Mingyu fell in love with you slowly, he never stopped himself from it because he's learned it was simply impossible. The joy you brought to his life was unexplainable. So he just let it happen, but he'd never tell you that, not when it could mean losing the single most important person in his life. But tonight, it seemed his heart was bursting at the seams and he wasn't so sure how long he could control his mouth from vomiting the words. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have you sleep over tonight.

"Gyu? you good?" you asked, sitting beside him and getting under the same throw he had placed over him. He looked so soft and cuddly in his dark gray sweatshirt he changed into. God, he looked every bit of boyfriend right now.

"Huh?"

"You were spaced out," you giggled

"Oh. Yeah, i'm ok, just waiting for you… Was the shower ok? Did you drink your water?"

You nodded and pointed to the empty water bottle you had placed on the coffee table in front of you, "I'm alright, Gyu. Tired but feeling much better." You punctuated your words with a small thank you and a kiss on his cheek and Mingyu tensed. The scent of your shampoo washed over him and even though it was only a few seconds, it's like he could still feel your lips on his cheek. You saw his eyes grow wide and his shoulders slightly square up but whatever it was, he chose to stay silent.

"okay!" he announced, trying to break the awkwardness he was feeling. "movie?"

"about that... could we... maybe talk first?"

An ice bucket might as well have been thrown on top of Mingyu's head, either that or have the ground open up to swallow him whole. He seriously might not keep his feelings at bay this time around. "uhhh... a-about what?"

"About what happened in the party."

"Oh," your best friend relaxed a little, "I thought you were fine? You said no one hurt you right? I mean, of course aside from seeing Cass and—"

"Gyu," you interrupted him with a hand on his forearm, turning to the side so you could face him, "I don't mean that."

"Then what?"

"About what you said to Jung," your voice barely above a whisper, "about being my boyfriend..."

At that very moment, the both of you paused, the same thought in your brains: will my heart actually start beating out my chest?

"Oh. What about it?" Mingyu played it off and you gulped hard, maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. You normally thought you could see right through your best friend, but this time, he seemed so nonchalant about it all and if you were being honest, it broke your heart a little.

The tanned boy waited for your answer, eyes holding a glint of fear as he watched you look at everything else in the room except his gaze, "I just... I don't know. You said if you were my boyfriend, then you'd be treating me right."

"I would." Mingyu responded a little too fast, making your eyes find his immediately. He cursed himself for the lack of self control, now literally biting his tongue to stop from spilling the rest of his feelings.

"Then am I crazy for thinking that... that all you've done tonight was treat me right?"

You watched your best friend swallow hard, eyes boring into your soul. You waited in bated breath for a response but Mingyu opened his mouth only to close it, and then open again. Mingyu steels himself, genuinely wanting to run away from the conversation. If he spoke any further, he just knows he'd lose his best friend and get his heart broken, so he chooses to point out the obvious instead. "Well, you are my best friend."

"is that all you want me to be?" There it goes. The million dollar question. It's now or never, Kim Mingyu, he hears the subconscious in his brain. He could feel the sweat on his back, his hands fidgeting under the throw. Mingyu was not fond of how straightforward you were being. It's like you were ready to catch him red-handed and then tell him to start acting like a bestfriend instead of some love-sick puppy, or worse, stay away from you altogether. This is it. The end of a friendship he so carefully protected even if it meant it will never be more.

"What do you mean?" He croaked, his throat feeling drier more than ever. Oh, if only Mingyu knew just how nervous you were too.

You closed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply to muster up some confidence as you carefully place your heart on your sleeve.

“Because I look at your place and your life, and though I see a lot of you in it, I see me too. Pictures of us, my favorite food always in your kitchen, my number in your speed dial. I think about the past and all that you've done for me, laughing at the stupid shapes I think the clouds are forming, listening to me vent about all my frustrations, holding me when i cry about a broken heart, you’re there. You're always where I am. And it might have taken me long to realize this, but maybe you do love me more than just your bestfriend. And I just I hope i'm not too late to tell you that when I think about all of it, it hits me like a truck that I'm in love with you too."

If Mingyu was deaf, then everything you just said is probably the one thing that would help him regain his hearing. Every single word was loud and clear, your last sentence obnoxiously ringing in his ears, yet all this six foot something man could reply was an awkward “huh?”

You blinked hard at his dumbfounded expression, the back of your eyes immediately stinging with tears. Your efforts of confessing dying together with your heart. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment, hands flying to cover your face because wow, you seriously just misread the whole thing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I- i must’ve misread. For—forget I said anything.” You mumbled, your voice shaking towards the end.

“No, no!” Mingyu panicked, his large hands prying yours away from your face and then cupping your cheeks, “i’m sorry. I love you. I heard you, loud and clear. And I love you, more than just a best friend. I’m so in love with you, have been for a while now.” He inched closer to you, the shyest smile on his face.

His eyes glanced at your lips before looking back at you again, asking softly, “Can I?”

With a small nod, he slotted his lips to yours and you immediately hummed in relief. Your eyes fluttering close with how gentle he was. His lips were slightly chapped but they were so pillowy against yours.

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbled in between a kiss, not being able to contain the smile that was breaking on his face. He swore he saw fireworks explode, his stomach churning in the best way possible.

“I love you too,” you responded as you broke apart for air. Both your eyes were twinkling, pure happiness just flowing through your veins.

He couldn’t quite believe it. Just moments ago, he was certain he’d end the night without a best friend. “Could you say that again?” He asked shyly, and if you weren’t just so whipped for the man, you wouldn’t have indulged him.

You climbed onto his lap, grinning as you placed your hands by the sides of his face. “I love you, Kim Mingyu. I’m so in love with you,” you obliged, peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose and lips.

Mingyu let out that tiny giggle he does when he’s really happy, the crinkles in his eyes appearing and his canines showing. “I love you,” you said one more time before properly latching onto his lips again. This time, your kiss was slightly deeper. He continued to mumble i love you’s to you in between before finally slipping his tongue into your mouth. Mingyu let out a low hum of sayisfaction when he felt you run your fingers through his short hair. His large hand stayed firm on the small of your back while the other was on your neck, making sure you couldn’t pull away too far or too fast, not that he should worry, the warmth of his body alone was already drawing you impossibly closer to him.

You rested your forehead on his when you broke apart the second time, matching grins on your faces as your eyes looked deeply at each other.

“You scared me, you know?” You scowled out of nowhere, your fist hitting his chest playfully.

“What?”

“I thought I really misread. Thought you didn’t actually love me.” The pout that appeared on your face was one Mingyu had seen before, but this time around, it pulled at his heartstrings even harder.

“Well I thought you saw right through me and didn’t want any of it. Thought you wanted to stop being best friends even.”

You raised a brow at him, tilting your head to the side slightly, “well now you’re not just my best friend, you’re also my boyfriend.”

The squeal that came out of Mingyu’s mouth was definitely one you wouldn’t expect from someone as large as him, but you loved it nonetheless, even though he paired it with a bone crushing hug that had your face uncomfortably smushed on his hard chest.

“G-gyu… c-can’t br-breathe.”

“Oh sorry,” he pulled back, still giggling from the thought of being called your boyfriend. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy before and it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter even harder.

You felt soft lips on your forehead, another “I love you” rolling past Mingyu’s mouth.

You responded back with the same three words, allowing yourself to look into his eyes intently, marking this important moment in your brain. You’ve heard of best friends falling in love and then falling out of love, the friendship sinking together with it. You knew there was no certainty that you and Mingyu wouldn’t meet that same fate, and it scared you for sure. But there was something about being in your best friend-now-boyfriend’s arms that just felt right. Like you were home. And somehow, that was more than enough to take away all the fears. It took a while, but you’ve never been more sure of something than you are now of loving Mingyu.

“So… we’re really doing this?” Mingyu asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You looked beautiful with the light pink that dusted your cheeks and the deeper crimson on your slightly swollen lips.

“As long as it’s with you.”

#svt #seventeen #svthub #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagine #seventeen imagine #svt fic #seventeen fic #svt one shot #seventeen one shot #mingyu #mingyu fic #mingyu fluff #mingyu one shot #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu #paula writes ✨#Slowly; All At Once

2K notes · View notes

nitr09-productions · 2 years

Text

Currently watching Ed and Oucho’s Transmission Impossible. Though I’ve rewatched the old office skits quite a lot, I don’t think I’ve seen Transmission Impossible since it aired.

Now that I think of it, the premise alone is totally unhinged; a failing TV presenter and his sentient cactus friend run a pirate TV show from their blimp that’s powered by burning children’s artwork. They regularly accidently abduct child stowaways, forcing them to participate in bizarre death games, the losers of which are thrown out of the blimp.

#i really hope it becomes some sort of cult classic one day #i'm so glad i grew up in the era where kids tv really pushed boundaries #like... half of it is genuinely good comedy that stands the test of time #and the other half is just... paralysingly cringeworthy #like... the genuine discomfort on the faces of the kid contestants is half cringeworthy and half incredibly funny #i want to know how much of it is actually good and how much of it is my own nostalgia goggles #it's the sort of thing i want to make americans watch #just to see what the hell they'd even make of it #also the sentient cactus lore that just... exists in the background... is fascinating #the guy who plays oucho invented an entire cactinian conlang just for this one joke character #and the games are so ridiculous that there's no way anyone could ever win #like... gnaw this cake into an effigy of john barrowman's face #or... guess what oucho is thinking

0 notes

baudshaw · 13 days

Text

1. Isle being forested. Mounds are in the background.

2. Isle had more land that’s now covered by the clouds.

3. The child (probably the King) is with other children, alongside a guardian of sorts.

4. The child looks at an Abyss-style manta..

5. The guardian looks angry, and is presumably from Vault.

6. More multi-wing mantas are being shown.

7. The boat heads to the flourishing Isle Temple, with isle being shown.

8. “Many years later”… so it’s definitely canon

9. “The story continues” the most interesting part to me. The Two Embers will not only have a story that connects with the game, but it sounds like the “start”. Maybe Two Embers will appear to people who haven’t played Sky, causing them to watch the show before playing the game?

Side note: There are human sounds, and the music is a combination of “Overture” and “The Invention” (forest elder theme)

#AAAAH #ITS HERE #CRUMBS WE HAVE #CRUMBS #IM EATING THE MOST DELICIOUS CRUMBS #sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatskygame #sky: children of the light #sky #sky:cotl #sky: cotl #that sky game #sky lore

453 notes · View notes

txttletale · 4 months

Note

I'm speaking as an artist in the animation industry here, it's hard not to be reactionary about AI image generation when it's already taking jobs from artists. Sure, for now it's indie gigs on book covers or backgrounds on one Netflix short, but how long until it'll be responsible for layoffs en-masse? These conversations can't be had in a vacuum. As long as tools like these are used as a way for companies to not pay artists, we cannot support them, give them attention, do anything but fight their implementation in our industry. It doesn't matter if they're art. They cannot be given a platform in any capacity until regulation around their use in the entertainment industry is established. If it takes billions of people refusing to call AI image generation "art" and immediately refusing to support anything that features it, then that's what it takes. Complacency is choosing AI over living artists who are losing jobs.

Call me a luddite but I'll die on this hill. Artists with degrees and 20+ years in the industry are getting laid off, the industry is already in shambles. If given the chance, no matter how vapid, shallow, or visibly generated the content is, if it's content that rakes in cash, companies will opt for it over meaningful art made by a person, every time. Again, this isn't a debate that can be had in a vacuum. Until universal basic income is a reality, until we can all create what we want in our spare time and aren't crippled under capitalism, I'm condemning AI image generation because I'd like to keep my job and not be homeless. It has to be a black and white issue until we have protections in place for it to not be.

you can condemn the technology all you like but it's not going to save you. the only thing that can actually address these concerns is unionization in the short term and total transformation of our economic system in the long term. you are a luddite in the most literal classical sense & just like the luddites as long as you target the machines and not the system that implements them you will lose just like every single battle against new immiserating technology has been lost since the invention of the steam loom.

#ask

598 notes · View notes

bluetooththereptile · 5 months

Text

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere super family #yandere super boy #yandere superboy #yandere superman #yandere clark kent #yandere conner kent #yandere supergirl #yandere superfam #yandere superfam x reader #yandere x neglected reader

856 notes · View notes

lazycats-stuff · 4 months

Note

Hello I was wondering if you could write a teen male reader with the Batfam. The reader is super into technology and hacking stuff and kinda helps the fam in the background of mission

Thanks you!

Sure, not a problem anon. Also, I know it's short... But trust me, I wrote it well. At least I hope so.

Summary: (Y/N) a good hacker who also work on their suits

Warnings: (Y/N) is just good, nothing particular,

(Y/N) was smart and his IQ rivaled Lucius Fox's and Bruce wanted to develop that mind even more. (Y/N) was adopted when he tried to hack into the Batcomputer and he became a family member within a few weeks. Everyone loved him, but Tim loved him the most. (Y/N) wasn't made for the field, so he stayed with Alfred to hack and work as an Oracle number 2.

Bruce enjoyed how fast he could hack into the comms, lines, track... It was much more easier and the boys made it known to (Y/N) that he is the best. Tim also said that (Y/N) is the number one hacker and that he is the king.

(Y/N) often laughs when he hears it as he hacks away on the Batcomputer. Alfred chuckles as he serves them both tea to drink during the night. (Y/N) was also in charge of making sure that the Batcomputer and security are secure as they can be.

Bruce made sure that he is rewarded for his efforts and Tim would try to hack in as a test, but (Y/N) is just too good. Even Lex said that whoever hacks for Batman is good. (Y/N) got an ego afterwards, but he didn't show it.

Bruce paired him up with Lucius and (Y/N) has officially flourished. Officially. Lucius was very knowledgeable and (Y/N) was almost like a sponge, taking in everything he could. Bruce made him an intern too, so he has some money on the side for himself to spend on what ever he wants.

(Y/N) couldn't be happier with the arrangement. It was just amazing to have somebody pushing you to be the best and develop your intelligence. Thankfully, Bruce is a nurturing type and he made sure to nurture his intellingence.

Of course, Bruce just didn't do it to (Y/N), but also to his other children too. He wanted his children to be the best of the best and if that meant making sure that some of their weird demands were met. Sometimes he wondered how he manages to do this as a single father.

Lucius took (Y/N) under his wing and (Y/N) has been getting into making suits and Lucius has been nothing but supportive. (Y/N) has been learning a whole lot and it made him feel happy. That's how he started inventing on his own in the cave.

There were a lot of time where Bruce had to drag out (Y/N) to go to sleep. (Y/N) and Bruce would fight at times because (Y/N) just wanted to work to create something useful for them, but Bruce said nope and dragged him to bed, then squeezed him tight.

(Y/N) has tried to get out of Bruce's hold, but Bruce spooned him rather tightly. It was not fun, but it felt nice, (Y/N) couldn't say no to affection. He did complain, but it was too keep up an image.

Image that has been shattered, but nobody had the heart to tell him that his image has been shattered a long time ago.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #bruce wayne x male oc #batman x male reader

339 notes · View notes

colleendoran · 1 year

Text

Neil Gaiman's CHIVALRY: From Illuminated Manuscripts to Comics

One of the many reasons I wanted to adapt Neil Gaiman's Chivalry into graphic novel form was to create a comic as a bridge and commentary re: comics and illuminated manuscripts.

We're often told that the first comic book was Action Comics #1 featuring Superman, a collection of Superman comic strips that morphed into comic books as an art form.

Sequential art predates Action Comics #1.

Action Comics popularized sequential art book storytelling that had already appeared in other forms in fits and starts throughout history. Comic books didn't take off as a popular medium for several reasons, not least of which was the necessary printing process hadn't been invented yet and it's hard to popularize - and commercialize - something most people can never see.

You find sequential art in cave paintings and in Egyptian hieroglyphics. I've read that comics (manga) were invented by the Japanese in 12th century scrolls.

And sequential art appears over and over again in Western art going back well over 1000 years, and in book form at least 1100 years ago.

The most obvious example of early sequential art in Western art - as a complete narrative in sequence - is the Bayeux Tapestry.

At 230 feet long, this embroidered length of cloth was likely commissioned around the year 1070 by Bishop Odo, brother of William the Conqueror. It depicts the Battle of Hastings in 1066 and the invasion of England by the Normans. (The tapestry was made in England, not in France, but it is called the Bayeux tapestry because that's where it is now.)

Imagine what a task it was to embroider this thing. Whew. And you thought it was hard learning Photoshop.

This work of art is important in the history of sequential narrative, but the Norman invasion is also important to the legend of King Arthur - and another important English legend - for reasons we'll get into later.

It's complicated.

All this is why you see this art in the background of this page of Chivalry.

Using the Romanesque art style of the tapestry in panel 1, I've added the Latin phrase "Rex Quondom, Rexque Futurus" - "The Once and Future King", the final words of Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur as inscribed on King Arthur's tomb, and the title of T.H. White's famous Arthurian novel. (EDIT) and it has been kindly pointed out to me that QUONDOM should be QUONDAM, which is hilarious and annoying and this is how history gets rewritten by accident.

My original intention was to draw this Bayeux Tapestry scene out and juxtapose it with shots of Galaad interacting with the children, but the two page sequence I imagined didn't really work as well in reality as it did in my head.

Foremost among my concerns was that the tapestry reference might be too obscure for most readers. I wanted to weave the visual meta-text of Chivalry into the story (For further reading on this project and my use of visual meta-text, symbolism, and history in Neil Gaiman's Chivalry, go HERE. And HERE. And HERE. And Yet again HERE.) in such a way as it would enhance the experience for people who "got" the visual meaning, while not dragging things down for people who didn't. So I cut this scene down to one panel.

The tapestry is a complete, long form comic strip created over 1100 years before some people claim comics were invented. So, I loved being able to reference it here.

But even more interesting to me are the sequential art sequences that appear in illuminated manuscripts - comics in book form.

I once got into a rather vicious argument with an academic who insisted illuminated manuscripts were comics. I said no. She said yes. Then she insulted the lowly comic artist and blocked me on Facebook.

Whatever.

My point was not that you can't find sequential art in illuminated manuscripts. My point is that an illustrated book isn't de facto a comic. Most illuminated manuscripts are illustrated books. Some illuminated manuscripts contain sequential art.

Just because opera is music, that doesn't mean all music is opera.

Just because comics books are books that doesn't mean all books are comic books.

And just because some illuminated manuscripts contain sequential art, that doesn't mean all illuminated manuscripts are sequential art.

But one is.

Let me show you it.

One of the earliest examples of an illuminated manuscript with comic art is The Bible d'Etienne Harding which you can see in this really bad jpg here, sorry, best I could find.

Created around the year 1109, property of a French Cistercian monk, it combines sequences like this with pages of text and illustration.

Not a comic book IMHO, but an illuminated manuscript with sequences of text, illustration and sequential narrative.

It's no more a "comic book" than a newspaper is for having text, illustration, and comic strips in it.

IMHO, academic lady.

And here's a look at the Old English Hexateuch (hexateuch refers to the first 6 books of the Bible) which I think is far more visually complex and interesting work, and comes much closer to the illuminated manuscript as comic, but still intersperses large sequences of text and illustration with sequential storytelling sequences. So I don't consider it a comic, but a book with sequential work in it.

Now this work below is a different matter. This is from the Holkham Bible Picture Book, circa about 1330.

This thing is genius. It measures a little larger than a modern comic, around 8"x11", and almost every page of it is like this spread here. 231 pages of beautifully rendered art, with repeated use of banderoles - "speech scrolls" (basically word balloons) - and captions, and (mostly) real sequential art. I've never seen anything else that comes even close to it, and by all accounts, neither has anyone else.

It may not be a modern comic book - but it's a comic book as far as I can tell. I don't think there's any other illuminated manuscript that is as complete, sophisticated, and innovative a sequential storytelling work.

If this were printed and seen by more people, the comic book medium would have taken off centuries earlier, IMHO. But it wasn't. It was tucked away in a monastery somewhere and few people ever saw it. It ended up being forgotten for centuries until it popped up again around 1816 when a banker sold it to an avid book collector, Thomas Coke, Earl of Leicester, who inherited Holkham Hall and its library and set about restoring and expanding it.

The banker wrote, “a very curious MS. just brought here from the Continent. . . which I think one of the greatest curiosities I ever saw”.

Sequential art got invented over and over and over by one artist after another until one day centuries later, some teenaged boys found their newspaper strips gathered together in a cheap format, and suddenly comic books were popular and like new.

And then a lot of people who didn't seem to realize that books had had pictures in them for centuries got all up in arms about the harms of books with pictures in them.

I think it's funny that it is called the Holkham Bible Picture Book. There really was no "comic" art language when this work was created or when academics began to catalogue this sort of thing. Will they change the name now?

Who can say.

Anyway, another Holkham Bible Picture Book reference for you.

Look familiar?

I referenced it in this scene in Chivalry.

One of the fun things about the Holkham is that it opens with a discussion between a friar who has commissioned the work and the artist. The friar admonishes the artist to do a good job on the project because it will be shown to important people. And the artist responds, "Indeed, I certainly will and, if God lets me live, never will you see another such book."

He wasn't kidding.

You can see the entire manuscript HERE.

Sponsored by my Patreon. Thank you.

#chivalry #neilgaiman #neil gaiman #darkhorsecomics #dark horse comics #illuminated manuscript #medieval art #medieval manuscripts #watercolor #watercolor art #king arthur #arthuriana #arthurian legend #sir galahad

2K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 6 days

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

188 notes · View notes