#my memory did not do this scene justice; THE ACTING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fan-goddess · 30 days

Note

can you hotd characters (mostly alicent and rhaenrya) when the reader almost passes in child birth? thank youuuu :3

A/N: Yep can do! I’ve never given birth, gotten pregnant nor seen anything resembling child birth apart from the Aemma scene in HOTD so I hope I did this justice!? Sorry this has taken so long!

Character Roll Call: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Aemond and Jacaerys (All romantic love)

Warnings: Child birth, talk of infertility, talk of not able to have children, pregnancy, she/her pronouns used in some places for reader, talk of death during childbirth, talk about smut but no smut, dirty talk, a most likely inaccurate childbirth telling, graphic detailing of blood and gore, this is not proofread! (if I miss any please let me know in a way you’re most comfortable!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

It was not the typical marriage you and your husband shared. For whilst you had never had a particular fondness for goose, he understood that and went after his own interest in tasting the variety the world provided him with.

So while he was off exploring, you were in the chambers of the heir of the realm. Showing her your devotion in the most unexpected of ways.

Yet soon, after nearly two years of marriage with no children, people were beginning to become suspicious of your womb. More specifically, your husband’s own family. There was talk of them already arranging a second marriage for him as your womb was supposedly infertile. So after a talk with him, you and your husband for a whole of three months, with the help of Rhaenyra. And just when you thought your efforts were unsuccessful, the maester greeted you with a smile, and told you you were with child.

Your lover took the news surprisingly well, as Rhaenyra spent all hours of the day with you comparing possible names for the baby. Your husband had done his part in this game. Now, you and Nyra could spend your days eating the cake and kissing the days away. Acting oblivious to the hateful world surrounding the two three of you.

“What about Aurion?” Nyra suggests, a lazy smile on her lips as she places a fork with a large chunk of vanilla cake on the end between your lips.

“Hmmmmm” You hum, smiling in thought. “Perhaps let’s not raise more suspicions than we’d like my darling. How about something not so Valyrian?”

She laughs, and yet agrees with you with her smile turning strained and sad. Her hand reaches for your own instinctively and you quickly move to grab it and squeeze it tight. “Alright alright! What about Rhys? Ivan? Those are some more boring names!”

You laugh, and yet make sure to note them down somewhere in your head. You discuss names of girls also, just in case. Yet months later as you sat screaming your heart out on the birthing bed, those names disappeared as pain became all you know.

“You must push my lady! The baby is trapped you must push!” One of the ladies in waiting says as she positions herself by your bottom half.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING PUSH!” You scream, sweat dripping down your face as your eyes screw shut. Your voice loud as the pain spreads further through you, till eventually you feel it all over.

Soon, the pain that blooms all over becomes numbing. Especially, when you feel your eyes becoming heavy, eventually shutting so all you see is black and the world becomes silent.

“What is happening?!” Rhaenyra screams, her face becoming pale as memories of her mother come flooding to her head. “What is happening to her?!”

“The lady is haemorrhaging!” One of the maesters yells, a multitude of rags of all sorts in his hands as he attempts to stop the blood from further dripping onto the floor. The babe that had quite literally fallen out of your whilst you had fallen unconscious was quickly taken away by the ladies in waiting to be cleaned and attended to. So now, all focus was on keeping you alive. By order of the future Queen of Westeros.

It feels as thought it had taken hours to stop the bleeding. Yet that meant nothing till Rhaenyra who waited anxiously by your side with your hand in her own. Her fingers poised by your pulse so she can reassure herself that you were truly living beside her and not dead like her mother.

By the time you had finally begun to rouse from your deep slumber, the day had turned to night. And all those in the room were exhausted from the effort it took. The maesters in particular, who knew that if they allowed themselves to slack, the princess would soon be upon them with the fury of the dragons.

“My love….” Rhaenyra whispered, at this point uncaring of the multiple people in that room who’d scuttle themselves to her father and the hand at the slightest chance of a scandal. “Do you hurt?”

“As much as childbirth allows me to be in…” You laugh, yet wincing as soon as your body moves. “I am glad you were here… i fear if you weren’t-“

“Do not speak of such things!” Rhaenyra begs, her hands clutching your own tightly as if she was fearful you would drop dead. “I forbid it!”

“Do you say that as my future queen or as my friend?” You murmur, both knowing the true meaning of the word.

“I say that as both..” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing the top of your head as one of the ladies in waiting comes in holding the bundle containing your baby.

“It’s a daughter, my lady.” She says, walking over and placing her in your arms.

“She’s beautiful…” you can’t help but say, brushing away one of her curls from her eyes. You can feel Rhaenyras eyes on you, and so you take her hand and somehow manage to pull her closer.

“I wish to name her Arya.” You firmly say, locking eyes with your daughter who begins to cry in hunger.

“Beautiful…” Rhaenyra says, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of you beginning to breastfeed your child.

Alicent Hightower:

Even while Alicent was married to the king, yours and hers unique relationship had never once wavered. When Alicent had her children with the king, who did not even enter the room when the time of birth came, it was you who held her hand in place of her mother’s, and murmured soft words of encouragement and affirmation into her ears.

While you had your own, even though your mother was there to be by your side as a place of comfort, it was only Alicent name that sprung from your lips. Begging for her to come closer so you can hold her hand and beg her for mercy and encouragements.

Most recently, your third pregnancy had been said by the maesters to be the most difficult one yet. Pain was all you knew through those last few months. Pain in your legs from when you were forced to walk to the dining hall. Pain in your belly from where not only did the baby insist on kicking but also from the cramps the maesters insisted did not need to be further looked at.

Yet Alicent was always close by ready to lend a helping hand whenever the moment allowed her too. According to her, she still has the old treatment the maesters had prescribed her with just in case she fell pregnant again after Daeron.

“You… my utter darling, are my world!” You moaned, eyes shut closed as Alicent carefully massaged the soothing ointment into the base of your feet. She continues to help whenever she can. The ointments and herbs she providing you with being much better than anything the dreading maesters could’ve ever given you.

Yet like most treatments, the effectiveness wore off. Soon, not even the most obscure of medicines would work on you. Pain was always lingering in every part of your body. Even in places you had no idea were on your body.

“I just want this babe out of me!” You groan one night while Alicent once again attempts to stop your pain using this time a supposed miracle working ointments from Lys. “Nothing is fucking working!”

“Well complaining won’t solve anything!” Alicent attempts to jest, though quickly haults any other further attempt after a harsh glare worthy enough to rival the Strangers is sent hastily her way. “Perhaps it is the gods way of telling you how strong you are for having this child? A way to tell you how powerful your son will no doubt be in the future?”

“I would not care if I was to birth a dragon for gods sakes I only with for it to come out of me so I can no longer feel so fucking horrible!” You groan, “I have already told my lord husband that this shall be my last time on that fucking bed! If he even brings his cock within inches of me it’s being torn off his body and fed to your children’s dragons my love!”

“Oh hush now!” Alicent scows, a rare bout of anger coming about her. “The gods have their meanings and their ways! Though I for once shall agree with you. You will be having three beautiful children my love, and that is all you need. Perhaps you could give birth to a daughter and we can betroth her to Aemond?”

“Perhaps…”

By the time the ninth moon has passed, it is quick to say that you were very much serious about this being your last child.

“GET THE FUCKING CHILD OUT OF ME!” You scream, the maesters wincing at the volume rivalling that of a child being born. Something your own child it seems is refusing to let happen. “RIP IT OUT IF MUST BUT IF I DIE I SHALL HAUNT THIS KEEP FOREVER MORE!”

“There shall be no talk of dying on this bed from you!” Alicent yells, her grip on your hands almost as tight as your hand on hers.

The maesters voices cutting through though as they announce how they can see the babes head. Meaning to much your relief the pain will hopefully be soon over and you can hold the thing that’s been hurting you for nearly nine moons in your arms to give it a stern talking off.

You make sure to push hard when the maesters tell you too, even pushing when they don’t so you could hopefully get the babe out quicker. But even when you feel the babe quite literally fall out of you and hear its cries, the maesters make their own cries far more audible.

“Alicent what is happening?!” You ask, feeling what feels like warm liquid gushing from your lower half. Only she does not respond. Only turning paler than the sheets that with horror, you realise are turning a deep red from blood. Your blood.

And It only turns worse when you realise just how faint you feel. A once iron grip you had on Alicents hand turning weak and feeble as your eyes slowly begin shutting.

It’s all a blur when you feel your body waking. Yet still your eyes have not grown enough strength to open, so it’s with great horror you realise you are still conscious but are practically unable to move. You are alive but it is as if your body is dead.

You can hear Alicent beg for your sake. And you realise with your heart beating frantically in your chest that you can also hear her hushing a baby you had not realised was crying this whole time. Your baby.

“Your mother is sleeping now…” You can hear her say, tears building in your eyes when you hear how damaged her voice sounds. “She is strong, your mother. She will wake and see what a beautiful baby boy she has waiting for her… it won’t be long now. I promise.”

You try as hard as you can to open your eyes, yet your attempts prove to be impossible. Yet somehow, you manage to utter two words to your lover while your lower half screams in pain at you.

“Thank you…”

Daemon Targaryen:

It was no surprise to anyone when after a few mere moons after your marriage to the rogue Prince Daemon, you were announcing you were pregnant with his child.

The king had said his congratulations and announced a feast in his nephew or nieces name, and even Daemon had to admit the whole ceremony was wonderful.

Yet like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. The announcement of the first babe of the rogue prince turned sour as news quickly spread about how much pain you were in from them.

The babe refused to let you rest for even a second. All it did was kick and kick, and make you feel shitter than any other possible ailment in the world. You almost felt like having a conversation with the stranger after one too many bouts of particularly bad spells.

“You must let your muña rest ñuha trēsy… let ñuha jorrāelagon rest…” Daemon murmurs one night against the swollen bulge of your stomach. The warmth his dragon like body providing you with being possibly the best thing he’s given you since the day you married him.

“You know I do not understand a single thing you say in that tongue of yours…” You say, eyes closed as you relish in the lack of kicking and blinding pain. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was at least obvious now that your child had chosen favourites.

“Just because you cannot understand something does not mean you cannot understand the beauty of it.” Daemon murmurs, his voice gentle and nurturing as he continues attempting to soothe you.

His words to others would be considered strange and out of character. But as you’ve come to realise over the time of your betrothal and marriage, even though that shared time has lasted around only a year, you know deep down beneath the hardened dragon scale skin of his is a heart that bears solely for the life of those he loves. The latest addition being of course the babe of his own blood nestled in your belly.

It was such a lovely moment, and yet it seemed that would be the last of its kind the rest of the time your babe was steadily growing inside. The more time passed the less Daemons unusually warm body worked in soothing your unrelenting aches and pains.

“Are you okay ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asks one evening, his brows furrowed in what has become a near constant state of stress and worry for you. For is has now nearly been a full nine moons of pregnancy, and with that, it means the babe will hopefully be born.

“Unless you can get this child out of me with no pain,” You grunt, mentally cursing Daemons cock for being what it was. “Then I suggest you leave me be and allow me to wallow with the seed you yourself placed within me!”

For the first time in a while, Daemons worried stricken face turns cheery as he laughs at the familiar wit of yours that helped him to fall in love with you in the first place. The rest of the day is filled with similar circumstances, as while the babe continues to make your days a misery, Daemon is right by your side never ever venturing too far away from you.

You suppose it is why he insisted on being by your side when two days pass and you were on the birthing bed, his hand locked firmly in yours while your screams echo off the walls. You swear you can feel your cunt tear and drip with blood, yet with how much you screamed you honestly couldn’t be able to hear it.

“Please Daemon!” You beg, a multitude of tears running down your face. “Please make it stop!”

“It’ll be over soon ñuha jorrāelagon…” Daemon tries to comfort you with soft words and a tight reassuring grip, and yet his face clear as day is struck with fear and nervousness.

“You said that hours ago Daemon!” You sob, screaming even more as you feel the dragon spawn within you break even more of your innards. “I just want it out!”

“You will my love you will! You are strong and brave and a fighter! You will not die today do you hear me!?”

Daemons hands envelope the sides of your head to force you to look and him, and yet he’s utterly horrified when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hand that was once clutching his shirt for dear life falls limply by your side.

Daemons words reach no bounds as he insults the maesters and common people alike, swearing if his wife was to die then all shall die with her. So even in the seven hells his wife can make sure she achieves the justice she deserves.

Yet it somehow enrages him further when by the next hour, the maesters have managed to successfully take out the babe from within you, and present it to him as his first born, whilst other maesters make quick work of stemming the bleeding and disposing of the evidence.

Daemons eyes watche as a wet nurse moves to take his son into her arms and takes him into another room so she can clean his son, and it’s not until they’ve left does he begin to shout.

“IS THAT ALL IT TOOK? MY WIFE WAS SCREAMING IN AGONY ON THE BED, BLOOD POURING OUT, AND YET IT IS ONLY WHEN YOUR LIVES ARE THREATENED DO YOU HELP HER?!” He yells, his hand clutching the hilt of dark sister as a reminder that he has the upper hand. He’s the prince of the realm. The rogue Prince. If he wanted to kill people then he will fucking kill someone.

The maesters faces turn ashen as they stand there, practically shaking as they fear for their lives. Daemon is almost tempted to actually kill them. To send a message that no one fucks around with the rogue princes wife. That is however, until he hears a stir behind him and feels a familiarly soft hand clutch his own that previously had clutched dark sister.

“My love!” Daemon breathes, his face one of pure joy as he drops the sword hastily and moves to clutch your still weak body in his arms. “I was so worried!”

“What have you done with my Daemon?” He can hear you say, the laughter in your tone surprising considering what had just happened.

“Don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon, he was here a few moments ago, about to kill some pathetic fucking maesters…” Daemon begins, turning with a dark glare when he sees the said maesters still standing where they were before in fear. “But I suggest they scarper before dark sister becomes hungry for rat blood once more!”

This time, Daemon doesn’t turn back to watch them all practically run from the room. Not when there is someone in front of him so much more important.

“Where are they?” You say, your movements still sluggish as you wince while trying to turn your body to look around the room.

“Where is who ñuha jorrāelagon?” Daemon asks, preoccupied with finding the cup of milk of the poppy one of the maesters had said was somewhere in the room. A hum of satisfaction slipping his lips when he eventually sees it and grabs it, before placing it by your lips to try and force you to drink it.

“Where’s our baby?” You murmur, wincing again when the bitter taste of the drink runs down your throat. “I want to see them!”

“I will get him for you jorrāelagon.” Daemon says, moving to the direction of where the wet nurse had taken his son too. When he does find her, he does not care for whatever she has to say. Instead just moving to take the boy in his arms and walk back to you, who’s already sat up through the pain ready to see your son.

“Oh Daemon…” You breath, your eyes focused solely on the babe in his arms. “He’s beautiful…”

“He takes after you…” Daemon murmurs back. A soft smile on his face as he moves the boy into your arms. “What shall we name him my love?”

“What about Aenor? First of his name…”

“I love it…” Daemon murmurs, kissing the top of your sweat soaked head and moving to perch against the edge of the bed transfixed by the holy sight in front of him. “I love you…”

Aemond Targaryen:

Your husband wasn’t anything except attentive. Every moment after finding out you were with child he spent within meters of yourself. Even when you slept, his hand was always placed on your stomach.

“I would never allow myself to live if you were hurt ñuha vēzos.” Aemond would murmur against your skin, amongst other Valyrian words this time against the curve of your slowly swelling belly. Each one sending your skin further and further aflame with desire and love for your husband.

The whole pregnancy though, for the most of it, was smooth and ordinary. The baby had begun to kick a little after the fifth moon of your pregnancy, and Aemond was eager to experience every part of it. Yet when you’d passed the eighth moon, that was when everything began to turn on its head.

Pain was blooming in your stomach nearly everyday, and even with the maesters having to forcibly pour milk of the poppy down your throat, you had resisted firmly, not wanting the babies health to be put as such risk especially so close to the due date. Especially when you have been in the presence of the king, who openly abused the opioid near daily.

Yet the maesters with stern eyes and unwavering faces, claimed that if anything, it was the pain inside you that would risk the babies health. So whilst you wished pain on the maesters, they stood there stiffly with a near full to the brim cup of the drink. They watched every time you were needed to drink it. Even going as far as to make you open your mouth wide to make sure you weren’t resisting.

Aemond though like he had done so earlier in your pregnancy, was never as far as an arms reach. He never said anything to maesters face to face, yet he certainly did not hide his anger from you when the two of you would lay in bed holding one another in a close embrace.

“If it weren’t for the babe, I’d strike them where they stand…” He’d begun to murmur. Starting his now usual evening moan about how according to him, they weren’t good enough to care for his pregnant wife. Sometimes it’s sad as you realise how he at his lowest points believes even he is not good enough for you.

“Don’t let that stop you…” You indiscreetly murmur back, a clear glare on your face as you try to drink something to wash away the bitter taste of milk of the poppy.

“Dont you tempt me now ñuha vēzos… I very much can and will make my way to wherever those men lie and slaughter them before it’s time to break fast tomorrow.” Aemond chuckles, a comforting hand on your stomach where near instantly you can feel the babe kick twice. As if the babe was eager to say hello to its father.

“That’s right ñuha valītsos… kepa is here…” Aemond murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your very spine. If you weren’t already eight moons pregnant, you very well would be eager to take him right at this moment and take his seed deep inside till it takes root.

“You are getting distracted valītsos…” Aemond says, smirking at the dark blush that spreads on your face. It matters not how long you’ve been married to Aemond for, since he’ll always manage to find a way to fluster him. You suppose it’s as fun for him as it is for you to fluster him. Though you suppose by doing that is how you ended up in this position in the first place…

“How can I not, when theres such a beautiful man in front of me?” You say, grinning triumphantly when Aemonds own face turns a light pink. It’s not as dark as your own, but even seeing Aemond blush without him trying to hide himself away counts as a win to you.

The two of you revel in the rare soft moment between you both, and it’s not long before you both fall asleep holding each other.

It felt so perfect at that moment, as all the previous worries about the babe swept away. The both of you honestly didn’t think the whole ordeal could get worse. That is however, until your waters broke and you were lying on the birthing bed. Your screams breaking Aemonds heart as he tries his best to comfort you to the best of his ability.

Yet his controlled anger and frustration comes out in waves as your screams continue further and further into the day, and the maesters it seems are no further to helping you than from when they started.

Aemond withholds every single urge to kill them for their insolence for your sake, given that they are supposedly they best men available to help bring his and your child into the world. Though when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body go limp after attempting to push the babe out again per the maesters instructions, all hell broke loose there and then.

“What have you done!?” Aemond yells, his voice whilst commanding also torn with how scared he feels at that moment. His uncles wife, and his grandsires wives had died in childbirth attempting to bring a child into the world. He cannot have such a thing happen to you.

“You are meant to help my wife not fucking kill her! If she is to die today then so shall all of you! Your blood shall stain these walls if she dies do you all understand!” He yells, tears brimming in his eyes from how emotional he currently feels. Aemond refuses to let go of you hand as the maesters scurry around like rats to appease him.

It’s not long before the sound of a babes cry brings him from his sorrowful thoughts.

“It’s a daughter my Prince.” One of the maesters says, before handing her off to a nearby maid presumably to go clean her off of all of your blood and other bodily fluids Aemond most certainly does not wish to be thinking of right now.

Instead, Aemond chooses to grab a lone damp cloth free from any uncleanliness, and carefully uses it to wipe away the sweat on your face. Yet even with all of that Aemond still believes you to be as beautiful as when he first ever saw you.

The sound of your blood onto the floor that Aemond had tried to ignore for his own sake earlier finally stops, and he’s grateful that the maid comes back with his daughter then so he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

“I will give the baby to a wetnurse my Prince for her first feed.” The maid begins to say, about to walk away. That is however before she feels the princes hand clutching tightly on her shoulder forbidding her to leave.

“She will feed from her mother.” Aemond says firmly, moving to take his daughter away from the silly woman’s grasp. “‘Twas a decision me and my wife made and you shall respect that. Now leave.”

The maid stands there a moment surprised, even looking to the maesters for guidance in the situation. But when Aemond looks up at them with a cold glare on his face and a sneer on his lips, both the maesters and the maid make quick work on leaving the Prince with his daughter in his arms and his unconscious wife by his side.

He does not know how long it is till you finally begin to stir, and yet it does not matter. All that does matter is that you woke at all.

“How are you feel ñuha vēzos?” Aemond murmurs, his daughter in one arm as in the other he holds the cup holding the milk of the poppy he makes you drink. Making sure you don’t waste a drop.

“Like I’ve given birth…” You simply say, suddenly focusing on the baby in Aemonds arms. “Is that-“

“Yes ñuha vēzos. This is our daughter.”

Aemonds hands her to you, and when she begins to stir it’s almost instantly you bring down your dress and place her near your breast. Hissing slightly as she begins to immediately nurse from it.

“She’s beautiful.” You find yourself saying, refusing to take your eyes from her. “She looks like you sweet husband.”

“She may look like me but I believe she has her mother’s beauty.” Aemond says, moving to hold your hand in his. “What shall we name her my love?”

“What about Elaenor?”

“It’s perfect…” Aemond says, kissing the top of your head. “She’s perfect…”

Jacaerys Velaryon:

It appears Jacaerys was ever as loyal as they say. As even after being married in an arranged fashion, and finding out you were pregnant with his child after consummating the marriage, his presence was never far from you.

When in the middle of the night sickness plagued your body, it was Jace who was right there next to you with a bucket in hand. Even going as far as to hold your hair back with his hand so no sick could ruin it.

“Is this what it is like for all women?” Jace asks, attempting to smooth you while you once again throw your dinner up into a bucket, groaning whilst you do so.

“Only the lucky…” You moan, about to turn to look at your husband before you find yourself immediately needing to throw up again.

At first, it was strange to you to have a husband be so close and eager to be by up side, given the stories that your mother had told you. Yet now, you honestly could not think of your marriage without the little services Jace provides you with.

Whenever you find yourself craving a certain food, no matter how bizarre or disgusting it may seem to him, Jace was always willing to call a maid and inform her to make it for you.

“Thank you husband.” You sigh in delight, chewing on some honey dipped carrots in the comfort of yours and Jaces bed.

“It is no problem my lady.” He says, awkwardly perched by the edge of the bed covers while he watches you eat.

“You can come closer Jace…” You laugh, patting the side of the bed indicating your want to have him closer to you. His warmth comforting. His smile kind. “You have seen me naked before. I do not think you have the ability right now to be shy. Call me by my name Jace. It is only fair since I have been calling you by yours.”

“Of course… wife.” Jace smiles, a strange girlish sounding giggle leaving your lips as he moves himself closer and opens his arms so he can enclose you in them. “Has the babe been bothering you much today?”

“Only as much as usual.” You sigh, choosing to invite his pointed stare in honour of eating another one of your special foods. “Though not as much as I have been eating these.”

“That is good.” He simply says, softly kissing the top of your head as he touches the skin of your arms with his hand. “That is good…” He repeats again more gentler than the last.

The next few months all went smooth as they could go. You were still throwing up in the mornings and some evenings, and experienced some horrible cramps once every few weeks. What was the most difficult and painful thing you had to endure however, was the birth of the babe itself.

It felt like it was ripping out of you. Screams pierced the air as it felt as if the babe was determined to take your insides out with it.

“It hurts!” You cry, holding Jaces hand so hard he has to hide any audible winces in pain, as whilst he is not the most experience man with women, he knew at that moment to not even think about saying his own pain. Not when he could tell his pain was like a mere headache compared to your own.

“It will soon be over!” Jace says, trying to squeeze your hand in an attempt to comfort you and let you know he is here. But with how much pain is flowing through your system he honestly doubts you can feel it right now.

“I just want it out!” You yell, screaming again as the maester intruders you to push. It’s almost like a rhythm, as when the maester tells you to push, you push. And when you push, you scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like that for what feels like hours and hours on end.

Yet soon, it’s finally over, as the maester finally steps away from you holding a crying baby. The maester looks at him, and shows him his crying daughter.

“A daughter my Prince.” The maester says, placing her in Jaces arms. Your husband’s eyes unable to tear away from the smallest child he thinks he’s ever seen. Possibly smaller than Joffrey from when he saw him as a child.

He turns to you to show you with a smile on his face, but that soon disappears when he sees your face.

“My love?” Jace begins, looking worriedly at your pale sweat layered skin. “You do not look well…”

You try to answer, and yet you even with all your strength you cannot even find yourself able to move your lips, your head even.

That though is when Jace turns his own head and sees the frantic moving of all the maesters and ladies in the room. It’s when he hears a most frightening of sounds. The sound of your blood falling and dripping onto the stone floor. It’s almost worse when he sees how deeply stained your dress is by your own blood.

He’s frozen as he stands there, completey horrified by what he’s seeing and hearing and yet he cannot find himself able to move. His daughter still in his arms, only it’s when she begins to fuss and make sound does another lady in waiting take her into her own arms to put her from the room.

The maesters are beginning to yell now. At the ladies in waiting mainly but to each other a handful of times too. They sound too loud. But that may be because Jace hasn’t said a word since you collapsed against a bed. He does not know what it is he should say. He does not know what it is he should do. His mother has insisted he be in the birthing room alone with his wife, and yet here he is standing alone in the middle of it looking like an idiot.

Yet while he’s thinking, it’s like some sort of driven force when he suddenly realises he’s been holding your hand. Your skin feeling cold and damp from sweat, and Jace stays there the entire time holding onto your hand and staring at you face. He commits to memory the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and the feeling of your heartbeat in his hand. He blocks out the sounds of chaos and panic, and chooses to focus on you.

Jacaerys slowly watches the colour bloom back into your face when the maesters finally manage to stem the flow of your blood and keep it inside you. Yet when he sees you open your eyes sluggish and exhausted, he cannot help but have his heart speed in happiness and joy. The smiles may have to come later though.

"My love, how do you feel?" Jace asks, still clutching your hand as he edges himself closer to you.

"Like l've given birth.." You simply say, even smiling as you slowly turn your head to look around the room. "Where is the babe?"

"She is with one of the ladies in the other room, if you wish me to fetch her I shall." He asks, watching as your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in what he can only say in a comedic fashion. Not that he'd dare mention that here though that is.

"We have a daughter…" You say, so silently that he barely even heard you. "Yes. Yes I want to see her!"

"I will go get the lady." Jace says, letting go of your hand for the first time in hours and admittedly as soon as he escapes your sights wipes the thick layer of sweat lingering on his hand on his shirt.

When he arrives back with his daughter in his arms though, he cannot help but smile as he watches your entire face light up at the sight of the babe with what could only be utter awe.

"We did that..." You say, reaching out and immediately rocking the small girl when she's in your arms. "We made her..."

“Yes…” Jace can’t help but agree with you, placing his hand on you as he sits beside you on the bed, watching you as you hold his and your child closely to your breasts. “We made her…”

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aemond x reader #Aegon Targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra targaryen/reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon Targaryen/reader #alicent targaryen #alicent hightower #Alicent Hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower/reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon/reader

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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She Has Your Eyes Pt. 1 (Daemon x Reader)

Alright man, this was entirely too long to put in one part, this is only part one and it’s 3k words long so let’s see how this part goes and we figure out the rest

The north has always been quite different when it came to their traditions, there was no exceptions or favouritism when it came to their children, especially when the children where Starks, to be born in the house of the dire wolf it meant you would be as strong as your sigil, daughter or a son it had no meaning

The tourney in the north was held in her honour for her 15th nameday, every house send a representative to take part in the duel, how could they know? It was not often that they had the chance to hold a stick against a Stark lady.

When Daemon got up on his horse to fight against her he had made the mistake of underestimating her, foolishly assuming that he should go soft on lady (y/n), to say he was surprised when he got knocked off quite violently was an understatement, he could still remember (y/n) taking off her helmet and her dark raven hair falling out, her strong features and tall build was compelling.

“Such a shame, I expected better from a dragon”

Her chuckle as she toyed with his reputation was a thing that would usually make his blood boil, however he laid there dumbfounded, “what a woman” he had thought as she trotted around on her stallion, the armour shined under the sunlight and Daemon had finally found his worthy opponent.

“You did well lady (y/n)”

“Well? I could have easily slashed your head off your shoulders”

“I am very thankful you refrained from such act”

“It’s a pretty head”

“To be on my shoulders or served to you in a silver platter?”

“I have yet to decide”

“I know the hour is late, although it just came to me that we have yet to present you with a gift”

“I do love gifts”

“Follow me my lady”

When (y/n) was met with Caraxes a audible gasp escaped her as she came to a halt at the Dragon being a few feet away from her. Daemon only took her hand in his to guide her closer to his dragon, Caraxes remained calm until (y/n) came close enough to sniff her, (y/n) felt her blood freeze out of fear something that did not happen often, as Caraxes appeared to accept the princess since he did not try to eat her.

“How did you know your dragon would not try to kill me?”

“I did not”

“You fucker”

The experience of riding a dragon was euphoric, the sense of freedom it brought while (y/n)s entire body shook from joy and a small dosage of fear was intriguing to Daemon, feeling her nails dig into him as she held for dear life was a scene for sore eyes, Daemon had never experience such emotions for a woman prior this.

Alas as the small folk say “all good things come to an end” and Daemon had to depart from the North, memories are such a funny thing, he could swear it was yesterday that he gave (y/n) a sweet deep kiss and got on his dragon, heading back to kings landing his stomach was turning as the red keep got bigger and bigger, when Caraxes landed Daemon wanted to throw up, he brushed it off as anxiety now he would say it was his body trying to warn him, an instinct some would say.

King Jahaerys was a king of justice, (y/n) leaned on that trait to ease her nerves at the suggestion of her being betrothed to Daemon. However Jahaerys was also a calculated man, the north was a strong force but they were never a problem, so a marriage alliance was not needed, runestone though needed a match, a union to ease the bad blood.

“Why would they say no? I am an eligible match”

“You are the perfect match my love, I guess we were… late”

“So, this is goodbye”

“I am afraid… it is”

(Y/n) could not find the strength to walk away, neither could Daemon and there they stood gawking at one another, it was (y/n)s eyes which were filled with tears that caused a reaction out of Daemon to pull her in his arms, to caress her hair as her body trembled from the sobs.

“Do not mourn me my love, I will always be with you”

Daemon had no idea of how his words would take form in a love child, (y/n) was locked up in her room for the entirety of her pregnancy and her mother was the one that tended to her instead of servants. People talk, the family could not risk the rumour of a Targaryen bastard that belonged to a married prince it would tarnish (y/n)s reputation and even be the sole cause of a war, they kept her safe until they could figure out what should they do next.

Ayleen came into the world during a snow storm, (y/n) was in labour for a full day until the babes wail was finally booming through the room, (y/n) was so exhausted that she could not even hold the small babe, her mother had to assist her so (y/n) could take a good look of her first born.

“She looks like him”

She had whispered with tears falling like a stream on her flustered cheeks, choking on sobs that no one could identify if they were from joy, relief, pain or sadness, (y/n) herself was not aware as of why was she crying in her mothers arms, cursing herself for allowing her heart to lead her and her womb for creating such a perfect thing that would not know what the true meaning of a family is.

Daemon was at the other end of Westeros, so far from his princess, still that cursed night he could not get a wink of sleep, tossing and turning in his bed tormented by images of the Stark lover calling for him while in pure agony, they had been bind for life and now he was absent at the birth of their first born, but he could feel every lick of pain, every grunt and push like he was there.

It was the only time Daemon got on one knee to pray, asking for the old gods and the new to save his lover from all harm, to shield her and spare her, even offering his own life instead of hers.

Daemon was a ghost of himself, he had left all life and warmth in the north, (y/n) was all he could think about, what was she doing? Was she dreaming of the way they laid together? Has she found a husband? Was she happy? A man that was known for his unquestionable lust for women and their presence to warm his bed was now feeling sick at the mere suggestion of bedding another woman.

The one time that he tried to get Rhea to bed to at least consummate their marriage after downing all the wine he could find Daemon flinched at Rheas touch, harshly pushing her to wobble out of her room, falling on his knee in his room and repeatedly apologising to his true love.

The morrow of that day he rode his dragon to go North, nothing was worth such agony, he must go to her or else he would die, the closer he got the colour in his face appeared, it resembled a spell he was under that would only be resolved if he was with her.

“Where is (y/n)?”

“Not here”

“You are lying, why are you keeping her from me?”

“Prince Daemon”

“Fuck off with all of that, I want to see her”

“Daemon?”

Her voice barely above a whisper from behind him took him out of his trance. Once he turned to finally see her his jaw hit the floor, she was holding a child, a tiny creature wrapped up with blankets, Daemon was confused and slightly hurt, has she already moved on? Whom was it that impregnated her? She found the gall to bed another man?

“This is Ayleen, Ayleen this is your father”

“Father? Is she”

“Yours, ours”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You are married, I did not want to cause trouble in your”

“Unconsummated marriage”

(Y/n) was left speechless, she had found peace with the idea that she would never be around him again, she had their child, a part of him and a token of their love, she had mastered the strength to love the babe enough for the both of them.

Daemon approached her by dragging his feet, the second he could fully eyeball his daughter it was the moment he felt his heart beat so hard he thought it would come out his throat, she was so fragile, barely the size of his entire arm.

“May I hold her?”

(Y/n) let out a laugh at the question, slowly and with careful movements for the first time Daemon held his daughter, “Ayleen, my love child” he kept repeating in his brain.

“She is… I would kill for her”

“Let us hope we do not have to go to that”

“I missed it, I was not here, I could not… help you”

“I do not hold grudges Daemon, you couldn’t have possibly known”

“I failed you”

“You gave me a daughter”

“No I did not, you did it, you blessed me with the most amazing gift”

They both yearned for one another, like two moths attracted to the flame, unfortunately everyone knows how that story ends, howbeit for that moment, those very few days Daemon spend in the north with his love and daughter he had been ecstatic, to wake up next to her or see her put the babe to sleep while sitting in her rocking chair, softly signing a lullaby, every waking moment was his new found treasure.

“Give her this, it was my mothers and my grandmothers before that”

(Y/n) placed a necklace on Daemons open palm, she could barely hold herself up from the despair of being separated by her firstborn, “it would be better this way” (y/n)s mother attempted to soothe the girl that cried at the decision of Daemon taking their daughter to kings landing, deep inside she could understand the reason behind it, even that how could a mother not be in shambles over this? It simulates the pain of her heart being ripped straight out of her.

Daemon kept his daughter close to his chest as he walked in proudly to the throne room interrupting another “important” event, he couldn’t care less for what was occurring, the presence of his daughter was far more important. Viserys was stunned, to see your own brother strut in after so long with a child was shocking.

“I would like to present to the court, my first born daughter,princess Ayleen Targaryen, first of her name”

“Gods be good, the princess of runestone”

“No, princess Ayleen was not conceived in the Vale”

“If she is not from your wife… then”

“She is my daughter, a Targaryen, that is all that matters”

“My dearest love,

I hope this letters finds you and our daughter well, I have missed you dearly, the memory of the sound of your breathing while you laid next to me has been my lullaby as a drift off to slumber ever since you left the North.

You must find the strength to forgive me for not writing to you sooner, I pray you understand it has not been easy for me to adjust with you and our sweetling being away from me

I come with the best news, the Gods have blessed us with a son, a healthy little boy named Saemor, he was born 3 moons ago, I did not inform you due to how difficult this pregnancy has been, we feared he would not make it out alive.

Me and Saemor will be waiting for your arrival, come to me my love and bring our daughter with you, let us be a family even if we both know it won’t last long

Yours truly,

(Y/n)”

Daemon took this as his way out, to finally be free of the bronze Bitch and be with his true love, the mother of his now two children. When Daemon announced his departure so he could summon his second born Viserys was livid, a state that Viserys rarely took.

“Another bastard! You have stained our name forever”

“They are my rightful heirs”

“They are bastards, from an unknown woman whom you have repeatedly denied of mentioning, a low life whore you yourself are too embarrassed to reveal”

That was the last thing Daemon needed to hear, his lover had gone through one of the most painful experiences alone, frightened as her life was in danger, she survived and came out of it victorious, the scene of her holding their frail son burned his mind enough to send him over the edge.

Daemon pulled out his sword and attacked his on brother, the steel of black sister shined under the light as Daemon let it rest on Viserys neck, the king was certain he was about to be killed while Daemons eyes were demonic.

“She is my love, my beautiful wife that owns my heart, I should take your head for merely suggesting she is of low rank, I was cursed to marry a woman I despised while you were free to take the woman you loved”

“You are a mad man”

“Mayhaps, but one important rule is to never tell a mad man that they have gone mad”

Daemon was a man that had committed plenty of crimes, to kill your own brother, your blood, no that was beneath him. He pulled away his sword and just walked away, he was sure that Viserys would banish him, send him and his daughter away, Gods know what that cunt of a man Otto had whispered in his brothers ear, poisoning their bond forever.

None of it mattered any more, all he did was take his daughter up in the sky while she held on her dragon egg tightly and fleeted to his love, his Stark lady for refugee.

(Y/n) had seen Caraxes fly above her home, at once she was up on her feet and ran outside to greet him, she had not changed one bit, she was as ravishing as he remembered her to be, his soulmate wrapped her arms around him before he could even firmly land on his feet. Her embrace was all he needed to finally be able to breathe again, relief washing over him, she was alive and well, that itself meant that he could be happy.

“Ayleen, oh my precious little wolf”

“She said her first word”

“Did she? What was it?”

“Mama”

(Y/n) gasped at the word, her daughter called for her and she was not there. (Y/n) balanced her daughter in her hip as she plastered kisses wherever she could find skin, she was finally whole again, with both of her children and her Daemon United, like a true family, to gaze into (y/n)s eyes was a dream itself, though to be able to view the scene of her holding their daughter was the biggest achievement of them all

“She has your eyes”

“She has your hair, a true Targaryen princess”

“I would much rather is she had inherited your hair, to have a little stark running around the castle and cause trouble”

“Come, you must see him”

As time went on Daemon and (y/n) were in their own little world that tasted like berries and cream, Daemon would take his family up in the sky even the small babe that would nestle in his fathers arms had grown accustomed to flying, the only way they could make him sleep was to take him up to Caraxes and fly in circles.

(Y/n) would sleep holding on to Daemon like he would slip out of her fingers during the night, as the cold of the North brought them closer clinging on to the heat of each others bodies and layers of covers protected them the shimmer of the fire made her look even more beautiful, Daemon would often stay awake just a little while longer so he can gawk at her, stroking her dark hair and whispering all types of things to her.

(Y/n)s head rested on his chest she found it comforting to listen his heartbeat, it was the only way she felt like their moments were real and they weren’t just figments of her imagination.

“He will be a menacing knight”

“What if he wants to be a poet?”

“Then he will be a menacing poet”

“No, our boy will be gentle and kind, like his father”

“Have you gone rogue? Or are you hiding something from me?”

“You are the most gentle person, you think I don’t notice how you tuck our boy in his bed? You are my sweet dragon”

(Y/n) whispered in Daemons ear before he kissed her bare shoulder, Daemon and (y/n) could not get enough of each other, the tension between them compelled them to crave the other ones touch, holding hands as they experienced the road of pleasure, neither of them knew when they would have to separate again so they started clinging to the present moment for dear life.

“Don’t start rumours about my gentleness I have a reputation to uphold”

“What that you are the scary ruthless rogue prince? You have never been that, you are loving, caring, protective-“

“And hungry for my lover”

Combined by a yelp coming from (y/n) before she could even defend herself her back was on the bed with daemon laying on top of her, a soft grin decorated her lips while she gently tucked behind his ear a loose strand of his silver locks.

“I really missed you”

“I missed you too my sweet”

Daemon had grown accustomed to living in the North, just being able to bask in her aura was enough for him to be content with his new way of life. That would be his first mistake, life has tricky ways to sneak in to your dream and remind you who is really in control, Daemon had to once again ride his dragon away from his beloved family, war had ensued and he was called for aid in the Stepstones, he could deny it, he should deny it.

Requests are open!

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bettyfrommars · 7 months

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I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!reader

Part 16: All Along the Watchtower

series masterlist playlist

18+ONLY

There is a lot of healing in this chapter, some smut and allusions to smut, alcohol consumption, lots of love, but also some new characters drop into the scene and there will be some angst at the end. If you have come this far in the story, you know what to expect. There will be song lyrics from the band Tool. Steve with an OC character. Mention of healing wounds, a dead body, chemo treatments, and plenty of unprotected sex.

word count: 6.8k

a/n: I mentioned in a post the other day that, instead of 2 final chapters of 10-11k, that I'd be splitting them up and doing four more posts with less words, so there will be several more parts to come. I know it's been almost 2 months since the last chapter, but I'm looking forward to giving this most of my attention for the rest of the year. I have so much love for those of you who are still with me.

"There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief..."

-- Jimi Hendrix, All Along the Watchtower

The aftermath of everything that conspired in the parking lot that night was a whirlwind.

There were way too many witnesses for the cops not to get involved, but there was also an underlying mutual respect for an outlaw level of revenge justice when someone hurts one of your own. When bystanders and club members were questioned as to who made the final killshot, there was a contagious memory loss that made everyone shrug and shake their heads.

Collectively, no one saw anything.

Everyone saw Wayne, but also—no they did not.

Wayne was going through chemo treatments and hadn’t been an active member of the club for years; no one in law enforcement would ever expect him to be involved, and everyone silently agreed to keep it that way.

Charlene caught a stray bullet in the shoulder, and even lied straight-faced to the police about what had happened. She waited for someone to blame her, somehow, for Craig’s death, but no one pointed fingers, they all just acted like their memories had been erased. Inside the ambulance on the gurney, she caught Steve looking across the parking lot at her just before the EMT’s shut the doors. His expression remained unresponsive, but he stood and watched the vehicle leave the premises before turning to limp over to Astrid’s truck.

Steve was not in great shape, either, and he almost fell twice when he first tried to stand. Robin caught him on the second stumble and had him brace his arm around her shoulders. The EMT’s tried to get Steve to the hospital, but he refused. Partially because he hated hospitals, and also because there’s no way he could afford a meat wagon escort, let alone whatever bill he racked up while in their care. A handful of ibuprofen, a bag of frozen peas, and some patched together magic from Astrid’s medical bag would have to do.

Before the medics arrived, Eddie grabbed his leather jacket out of one of the saddlebags on his bike and had it wrapped around your shoulders as he pinned you close to him with both arms, as tight as he could without hurting you. “Baby baby baby I’m here, I’m here…never gonna let you go…” he hushed it over and over, trying to calm himself as much as you. You found his eyes were wet when he tipped your chin up gently with his finger, pressing kisses across your skin that was sprinkled with dried blood. He parted your mouth with his tongue, just slightly, letting it graze your top lip. His voice trembled when he said he loved you before sealing the words with another soft kiss.

Still observing from the steps of the hotel, Melanie watched the interaction between you and Eddie, and the realization that he would never be hers ever again finally sank in, hitting the pit of her stomach like a lead weight.

Eddie sat next to you on the back of Hopper’s Bronco and held your hand while you told the Chief about your abduction. Anger curled Eddie’s lip when you recited the horrific events, and his eyes narrowed on Craig getting zipped into a body bag, wishing it were possible to kill someone for a second time.

You sprained your ankle, and had a few surface cuts and bruises, but most of your trauma was internal. You told Eddie you were fine, but he wouldn’t rest until the EMT’s checked you out.

Eddie got the shower temperature at your place just right before helping you in with him so that he could gently wash the blood from your face and shampoo your hair. He took his time soaping every part of you; even had you put all of your weight on him so he could clean your feet with meticulous precision, being extra careful with your bad ankle. He wanted every trace of Craig and all that had happened to be washed away. You swept his wet hair back from his face as he stood to full height, and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his forehead to yours.

Things got slippery and before you knew it, you were moving Eddie’s hand down between your legs as the steam rose up around you. He didn’t think you’d be ready, not after such a traumatic experience, but then he could feel the slick that had nothing to do with shower water. He ran his big, calloused fingers through your folds, and then worked that button at the top of your slit until it hardened under his fingertips.

You clung to him, letting go of erotic sighs between deep, sensual kisses that felt like you needed each other’s oxygen to survive. “I’ve missed you so much,” you said into the crook of his neck, grabbing the hard curve of his cock to pump at the tip.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he hushed, dipping two of his fingers inside to give your muscles something to clench around.

A few deep thrusts and then he spun you around, holding you tight so that you wouldn’t slip. The fingers of one hand found your clit again, rolling in circles there, while his other hand came up to cup your breast and pluck at your nipple. You shuddered and tilted your head back so he could suck and nibble at your throat.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you mine.”

You writhed in his arms, reaching back to hold his head, while his fingers kept pace and your cunt fluttered. You could feel your knees giving way.

“That’s right, my baby, give it all to me.”

“Fuck!” One more whimper and the orgasm shattered you, making you tremble and sink against him. The thought never occurred to you that you would fall because he had you locked so tight in his embrace.

His hard length rested between your asscheeks, and you turned around to take it into your hand and face him. He held your chin and found your mouth again, pitching his hips into your hand until ropes of his cum were shooting against your leg and into the tub. You took the head of his cock and rubbed it along your slit to spread his seed there, and then took your fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean. Eddie groaned at the sight, grabbing your face again to kiss you long and hard.

The rest of the sex that night was slow and tender, full of breathy words of devotion as your bodies met and became one. Fingers laced, and your legs wrapped around him. Eddie rolled his hips so that you could feel every inch of him inside of you, and you matched his movements, watching his eyes flutter before they opened to meet yours again, lips grazing. For a moment, it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, and you wanted to stay like that forever.

Even though Craig was gone, Eddie was still reluctant to leave you, and he came by several times a day while he was working the tow truck. He brought you soup from the diner, and picked up a potted plant, because he didn’t want you to have to watch flowers die in a vase. He even got special tuna treats for Charlie and stopped off to rent videos for you to watch with you on the couch after he showered and returned from his place.

Besides the time it took to talk to Katie and let her know what happened before she went over to Robin’s, Eddie was the only person you interacted with for the week before it was time to go back to work. You tried to return sooner, but Shana refused. You needed the loud music and the crowds of the Velvet Hammer, they were such a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

It was a part of Eddie’s routine to buy groceries for Wayne every so often, now that he didn’t have as much energy because of chemo, much like Wayne used to do for him back when he was a kid, and his dad would disappear for months at a time. You pulled together the ingredients for one of your grandmother’s favorite casserole dishes and made dinner for them both at the trailer one night, sipping on wine, and listening to your boyfriend and his uncle reminisce on stories from back in the day.

You were taking everyone’s dishes to the sink when you heard Wayne say to Eddie, “that one is a keeper,” and it made your eyes water, for whatever reason. Maybe because you know how much his uncle’s opinion meant to him.

—----

Steve had to be back at work the same night as you, and an hour before, Astrid straddled his lap in one of her silk robes to apply some ointment on his face while he ran his scarred hands up and down her bare thighs. Her skin was soft and smelled of cocoa butter, and her long, curly hair draped over their shoulders like a curtain to keep them safe.

“Don’t punch anyone tonight, okay?” She whispered, scooping hair behind his ear as she tended to the ugly gash on his cheek under the ugly yellow coloring around his eye. “Your fingers need a chance to heal.”

Steve had been at her place on and off since the incident. He’d stay the night, and then be up before the crack of dawn to be back at the house when Oliver woke up. For the first time ever, he canceled a few tattoo appointments so that he could get the rest that the girls had been begging him to take. He hated not having something to do; it made him bounce his knee and grind his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw bulged.

Steve worked a piece of gum inside his mouth and took in Astrid’s face from under hooded eyes, scooting her hips flush to his body, digging his fingers into the meat of her thighs. “Why don’t you come by and see me tonight? I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe I’ll put you on the sink in the bathroom and have some fun like old times.”

One side of her full mouth lifted in a grin. “Tempting,” she leaned in to touch her nose to his. “But I think I might sit this one out.”

“You can sit it out on my face, sugar,” he brought the bright green gum between his front teeth and held it there until she took the chewed piece into her own mouth.

“We’ll see,” and then she slid off of him, resisting his tug on her arm to pull her back down.

He rolled his head along the back of the couch, watching her walk behind him. “Can I at least have my gum back?”

“No,” she answered flatly, disappearing into the kitchen.

—-----

You and Eddie rolled up to the Velvet Hammer just after Steve, and he was finishing a smoke, still straddling his bike in the parking lot when he offered you a raised eyebrow and a two-finger wave. Eddie slid into the spot next to him, facing the red brick exterior, and shut the engine off, planting his feet on either side to keep the beast steady.

“What is this? Bring your old man to work day?” Steve snaked his tongue out over his bottom lip, exhaling smoke from his nose. He had his sunglasses pushed up on his head, squinting against the glow of the sunset, one arm crossed over his chest.

You giggled to yourself while you dismounted, pulling your leg through to avoid the sissy bar that had been at your back. You were used to Steve and his banter. If he was teasing you, it meant he cared about you; it was a bit of a rite of passage. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were special to him now—you were family, and he would look after you like he looked after his own.

“Well,” Eddie took his helmet off and tucked some hair behind his ear, giving his friend a pointed look. “I hear that the security here really sucks.”

“I told him he didn’t have to babysit me tonight,” you piped up, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder that had all of your work clothes inside. Eddie curled his fingers at you, asking for your helmet, so you passed it to him. “But, what can I say? He’s growing on me,” and then you pressed up against his chest, making him puff air out of his nose at the sudden contact, and you kissed the side of his neck.

“I’ll grow for you sweetheart, if you keep it up,” he mumbled.

Steve snorted and threw the butt of his smoke to the pavement. A wave of sudden melancholy washed over him at the sight of the two of you.

He’d been battling with himself the past few days, fighting the urge to call Charlene, to make sure she was okay, even though he hated her guts for what she’d tried to do to his family and everyone else. There was a deep pit of loneliness in her, and when he’d stared into the void, the void had stared back. He recognized a part of himself in her, like a dark foreshadowing for his life 15 years down the road. A life of jumping from partner to partner, trying to gather every crumb of attention because he refused to let one person love him. He told himself that Robin and Oliver were all he needed, but one day Robin would have her own life with a partner, perhaps with Katie, and Oliver would move out and become his own person. He thought about Astrid, and how his mere presence in her life held her back from finding someone who could commit to her and give her the comfortable life she deserved.

“See you inside, freaks,” Steve pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes and favored his right leg with a hitch and a hop on his way to the building, making his wallet chain bounce out to the side.

“Should he be riding his motorcycle with that bad leg?” You asked with your mouth on the leather of Eddie’s shoulder.

“Probably not,” Eddie breathed, watching his friend go. “But you can’t tell Steve shit.”

Eddie escorted you to the back door in the alley and waited for you to be inside before he went around to the front to take the bar entrance. He didn’t plan to stay the whole night, he’d leave for a bit in the middle of your shift and go do some work a the shop, but the fear of losing you—as he had so many people in his life—was still lingering like barbs in his heart, and he only hoped you didn’t get tired of him being around all the time.

In the narrow locker room, you shared a space with Jackie who was also getting ready for her shift. She hugged you violently, and it startled you, because she was not prone to physical displays of affection.

“Bitch, you had me scared to death,” she gushed. “I almost puked from relief when they said you were okay.”

She had her heels on and her already tall, voluptuous frame towered over you. “I missed you too, hooker,” you gave a lopsided grin once she stepped back to look at your face, noting the healing cuts over your lip and eyebrow. “You think my battle scars will milk some extra tips out of people tonight?”

The comment made Jackie scoff a laugh, but her eyes were glossy with emotion, giving a few light squeezes to your shoulders. “You sure you’re good to work tonight? I know Shana would let me cover for you.”

You heaved a long sigh and clanked the metal of your locker open. “The last thing I need is to be at home with my wheels spinning for another night.” Everyone was treating you like glass, and all you wanted was to feel normal again.

Even though you were relieved that the terror that Craig had put you through in your life was finally over, you mourned his death in your own way. He had a mother and a sister out there somewhere who loved him very much and would be devastated by his passing. You’d also never watched someone get shot and killed right in front of you before, and you hoped that you never had to see such a thing again.

Jackie adjusted her red and black Velvet Hammer cap sleeve tee that was tucked into her leather miniskirt, and moved over to apply her maroon lipstick in the mirror, making her mouth into an O shape. The music from the main room was loud when someone opened the hallway door to head over to the kitchen. “That guy John was here asking about you the other day. Remember the big tipper who wanted to be your sugar daddy?”

“I think so,” You said it absently, as if you weren’t sure, pulling your tiny red shorts up your legs.

“He came in alone, sat at the bar for a drink, and I overheard him asking about you, if you were okay,” she unzipped her purse and dug through it. “I guess he heard about what happened.”

Yes, you imagined that he had heard about what happened. You wondered how much Charlene had told him.

Jackie punched her beige time card into the machine on the wall and you followed suit, deep in thought over why John was trying to track you down at the Hammer instead of calling you on the phone.

“Honestly, I’ve missed the fuck out of you,” Jackie said over her shoulder, pulling open the hallway door to the sea of cigarette smoke and the song Wave of Mutilation by The Pixies. “The new girl gets on my nerves.”

You barely had time to ask who the new girl was before a familiar face framed by a platinum blonde bob stood in your path wearing a matching shirt with a tray full of what looked like Jägermeister shots.

It was Erika.

“Oh, you must be the new girl,” you were a bit flustered, but on your list of worries, she was very low. You could tell she was nervous to see you, and wobbled the tray, chewing her gum nervously.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said in a rush. “That I got a job here, I mean. My sister is friends with Shana and I really needed the money because—-”

You shook your head and gave her a genuine smile that harbored no animosity. “Of course I don’t mind,” you shuffled around her to get to the bar, thinking about how she seemed a bit afraid of you, and there was no need to be. “Did you say hi to Eddie? He’s here.” You reached around to tie a short apron with pockets around your hips.

Her mouth gaped like a dying fish a few times. “Well, I, no…not yet…I mean, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind,” you glanced up and caught Eddie’s eye at the bar. You thought about all of the obstacles, all of the crap life had tried to throw your way to tear the two of you apart, and you’d both weathered the storm to find you were closer than ever. You trusted Eddie with your life, and you knew that he only had eyes for you—he proved it to you every day.

“I wanted you to know that what you did the other night was really badass,” Erika leaned in, eyes sparkling when they met yours. And there it was, an understanding, a mutual truce, an unlikely friendship broadening on the horizon.

Well, a friendship was unlikely, but a truce, at least.

You didn’t know how to take the compliment, but you thanked her, and told her that you liked her earrings, and then you winked at Eddie before heading over to check on your first table. He was at the bar having a Coke and talking to Thumper, who was also a patron that evening, and you could see that he was nodding, pretending to hear what his friend was saying, but all the while, his attention kept shifting to you.

It was one of the last warm nights before the fall weather hit, and so Steve was sitting on his stool out on the pavement, propping the door open with the weight of his back. He surprised himself by realizing he wasn’t in a flirtatious mood. A few hotties who smelled like heaven were basically ready to gobble him up if he let them, but he barely gave their ID’s a glance and waved them through.

He had a thick rubber band from the cash register that he was playing with, stretching it wide with his thumbs. Caught up in one of his daydreams, the rubber band accidentally shot out and almost nailed the person who was stepping up onto the sidewalk.

Astrid ducked just in time for it to zing through her hair instead of nailing her cheek.

Steve experienced a bolt of recognition a second too late and was on his feet, almost knocking the stool over. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” but then she started laughing, and they were both smiling when they kissed, teeth knocking together.

She took two steps back so that his eyes could drink her in; the dark maroon dress with a slit up the thigh and generous scoop neck, it was one of her many handmade pieces to make room for her ample hips and hourglass shape. Instead of a shawl, she had on a jean jacket this time, fingers and ears adorned in subtle gold jewelry.

He pushed some thick curls away from her face and planted his lips on her forehead as he spoke. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” she tilted her head back to lock her dark eyes onto his. “I came to make sure you behave yourself.”

His smile was rueful—dangerous, even. He wiped his tongue over the point of his gold tooth. “You can’t come here in a dress like that and expect me to behave, sweetheart.”

A group of partiers went to try and stumble through the door, but Steve was quick to shove his hand against the doorframe, blocking them with his tattooed arm. “Need to see ID’s first,” his tone was suddenly that of gruff, tough bouncer Steve, and not the sweet little loverboy from a few seconds ago.

Once he’d given them all a stern look, he hurried back to grab for Astrid’s hands again, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “What’s your poison tonight darlin’? Just tell Shana to put it on my tab.”

She wasn’t about to let Steve pay for her drinks, but she nodded. He tucked a padded stool from the bar just inside the door close to him while she was ordering her gin and tonic, giving Eddie a shoulder squeeze as she waited. When she looked over at Steve again, he patted the seat a few times eagerly so that she would know where to go.

—-------

A while later, as the bar filled up, Eddie was moving his head to the beat of the Muddy Waters tune “I’m your hoochie coochie man” when you came over to give him a back scratch and tuck his hair so you could smooch his ear. The 1958 film The Crawling Eye was playing on the screen above the bar.

“What do you say? Can I be your hoochie coochie man, babe?” he muttered. And then, dropping his gaze to his drink he added softly: “My mom loved Muddy Waters.”

One of the many layers you had yet to peel back on the onion of Eddie Munson was his relationship, or lack thereof, with his mother. You always got the feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it, but more and more, you could feel him opening up on the subject and referencing her, wanting to finally let you know more about that facet of his life. From Robin you knew that she passed away when he was young, but that was the extent of it.

“Your mom had good taste,” you tipped his chin so that he could see your sincerity. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too,” he blinked his glossy chocolate eyes a few times and took a hard gulp. “I think I might head over to the garage for a couple hours, but I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“You should stay,” Shana, sporting a freshly shaved head and a new tattoo just above her ear, slapped the flat of her hand on the wood of the bar in front of him to get his attention, and then she gestured to the stage. “Divine Filth is playing tonight.”

You could tell that finding out that one of the local bands, Divine Filth, was playing at the Hammer was a welcome surprise for Eddie when you saw his face light up. They were another metal/rock band from a few towns over, you found out, and one of his friends was the lead singer. They’d played dozens of shows with Corroded Coffin over the years, and Eddie used to play lead on a few songs with them.

“They just got back from Pedal to the Metal,” Shana continued. Even you knew that Pedal to the Metal was a huge 3-day rock festival that happened every year up near Chicago, and even Eddie’s band had played there once.

You saw that Eddie was contemplating the news, and weighing his options, gnawing on his bottom lip. You decided to slide down closer, resting your elbow on the bar. “Can’t whatever you have to do at the garage wait? Or maybe one of the guys can handle it? I’d love for you to stay.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and his response was quick. “Yeah, I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to.”

That was all he ever wanted, for you to tell him what you needed. For you to say that you needed him.

You put your forehead to his, fingers twirling in the baby hairs at his neckline. “Stay and be my hoochie coochie man.”

He mouthed a few words to the song against your lips before sinking in for a kiss.

Then, he pushed his soda aside and ordered a beer. Thumper caught wind that he suddenly had a drinking buddy and gave the signal for two shots of “their finest”.

—-----

Meanwhile, at the other end of town, Katie was at Robin’s again. She’d been staying there every night since it all happened. Partly to give you and Eddie some space, but also, on her trip, she’d realized that she didn’t want to be away from her girlfriend any longer than she had to.

She was in love, like head over heels, for the first time in her adult life.

Once Oliver was fast asleep in his bedroom, the two were hustling to take their clothes off, gushing words of love in breathy whispers in the dark, needing to be as close together as possible. Robin was three fingers deep when Katie admitted that she’d never loved anyone this much before, and it made Robin go still, to ask her if she meant it, and to tell her she felt the same.

After their orgasms, Robin was straddling Katie’s lap, tasting her own release on her girlfriend’s tongue, when she decided to finally open up about what had been on her mind lately.

She’d meant to work it into conversation, but instead, she blurted it: “Do you want to move in here? With me…with us?” Her mouth dried up after she asked it, wondering if it was too soon, too ridiculous. She swallowed hard, making a click noise in her throat. “I talked to Steve about it. I haven’t talked to Oliver yet, but I will.”

Katie bucked her hips up so that their swollen lips brushed together, still dripping with cum. She was quiet as she let the idea sink in.

Robin tucked some hair behind her ear and glanced down, reading her silence wrong. “I know it’s not a huge house, and we only have the one bathroom, and I get that it’s not very glamorous to shack up with a woman who already has a kid and a life partner. But I think that I, I think that we, could—”

“You know I’m not the glamorous type,” the other woman interrupted, catching Robin’s chin to run her thumb along her bottom lip. She locked eyes with her. “We could always get a bigger house one day, down the road, all of us. I’m not worried about that.”

“So, you’ll think about it down the road, maybe?”

“Robs, I don’t want to spend another night without you in my bed.”

“You don’t?” She was surprised, but also, not sure if she’d answered her yet or not.

Other than her brother Dan who lived across the country, and a mother she’d never been close with, Katie had rarely known the comforts of family, but she had found what she’d always been missing within the cleave of the Harrington-Buckley clan. It wasn’t a living situation that would suit everyone, but the idea of making a life in that corner of the world had her insides glowing. She’d need to discuss it with you, and give you plenty of notice if you were okay with it. The way things were going with you and Eddie, Katie had a good feeling that the two of you were considering the same merging of households, anyway.

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I know this is an unconventional situation, and I wouldn’t blame you for—”

Katie cut her off and put her hands on either side of Robin’s face. Her words bubbled in her chest, a smile soft on her lips. The “yes” she spoke was followed by a nudge of the nose, a suck on her bottom lip, and then she was repeating it over and over as Robin pushed her to the bed and got on top of her.

—--------

You were able to catch the way Eddie’s demeanor softened once he started to relax and ease into the evening. He was laughing at Thumper’s theatrics, chuckling so hard, the apples of his cheeks turned pink. Steve led Astrid by the hand to one of the only two bathrooms at one point, and the next thing you knew, there was a line of 3 or 4 people waiting to use it, so you had to give the door a polite knock, loud enough to be heard over the Jimi Hendrix song that was playing.

Astrid came out adjusting her dress, with no lipstick on, and Steve followed, wiping his mouth suspiciously, and palming the bulge in his jeans. He chuckled at the way your head was cocked, and mumbled a cheeky, “I was on my break,” before heading back to his stool.

When the members of Divine Filth showed up from the back entrance with their instruments, you could tell who the lead singer was immediately; she had a distinct presence. She was small but poised, hair dyed black with one side of her head shaved, and the other side long down to her shoulders. She had on leather pants and a ripped shirt cropped at her waist, with tattoos on her biceps.

She looked around the room, taking stock of the place as the other members went to set up. You were standing to full height after setting some drinks down at a table full of Hell’s Belles when you watched her spot Eddie.

She let out a squeal and headed over to him with a bounce in her step. Eddie sprang off of his stool to return her embrace, lifting her up off her feet in an enthusiastic hug. The second her feet touched the ground again, Eddie was waving you over, wanting to introduce you.

“This is my girl,” he pulled you flush to his side the second you were within arms reach. “Baby, this is my friend Nancy, the lead singer of Divine Filth.”

Nancy Wheeler stuck her hand out for you to shake and told you that she’d already heard a lot about you.

“Yeah, from who?” Eddie was curious because it had been almost a year since he’d talked to Nancy.

“Robin,” she said, and of course, Eddie should have known. She shrugged, “we catch up every now and then. Steve gave me some new ink a few months ago.”

There was melancholy in her voice, and you’d find out later that Robin and Nancy had a brief thing once, back in high school, back when they were always in detention together for destroying school property. Nancy was a pyro in her own right. She had fond memories of letting Steve practice tattooing on both her and Robin in her parents basement while drinking beers they stole from the QuikMart.

“Robin couldn’t make it out tonight,” Eddie let her know in a cautious tone, wondering if she’d had her hopes up.

“Oh I know, she told me,” she said in a rush. “She’s with someone and she’s happy and I’m happy for her.” And if she wasn’t, I’d do something about it, she thought to herself.

You couldn’t tell if she meant every word, or if she was trying to convince herself as she spoke them.

“So, big boy,” Nancy put a hand on her hip, wanting to change the subject, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, clapping him on the arm. “You going to grace us with your presence on stage tonight?”

Eddie immediately started shaking his head to decline, but you were quick to turn to him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and it made him pause. “Maybe,” he mused, noting your intense interest, and then turned his attention back to Nancy. “My girl has never seen me play before.”

“No shit?” Nancy was genuinely surprised, jaw going slack. “Dude, your man kills it up there. He’s got star power, and I wish he’d get his head out of his ass and come out to do more shows with us.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a little thing called running your own business, and I don’t recommend it,” Eddie grumbled, as one hand reached for the next beer Thumper was passing him and the other smoothed circles on your back.

There were tables waiting, and more people coming in, so you excused yourself and snaked your arm out from around Eddie. He took hold of the back of your neck and guided you back to kiss the side of your head one more time before you were out of reach again.

There was one dancer shimmying down the pole to the song Stinkfist by Tool, and it was the last performance of the evening before Divine Filth started their set. Nancy was up on the stage riser helping to situate things where she wanted them, and the tips were flowing into your pockets just as fast as patrons were knocking back shots. The front door that had once been propped open by Steve’s body was shut now, locking the bar in a dim, red glow, billowing in a smog of nicotine fumes.

“… Just not enough, I need more

Nothing seems to satisfy

I said, I don't want it, I just need it

To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive…”

Astrid had gone home by then, and Thumper was casually watching the door as Steve made his way over to see Nancy, and every time the door opened, you took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to clean out your lungs. This time, when you felt the gush of cool breeze flush your skin, you were on the way across the room with a drink order, and you absently looked up to see who was coming in.

“… Finger deep within the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together

Relax, turn around and take my hand…”

You stopped in your tracks when you saw who it was, one foot paused in the air behind you, mid-stride.

There, silhouetted against the backdrop of the street, stood Charlene.

The black bodysuit she had on made her look like Sandy from Grease, but her shoulder was wrapped in a bandage, and standing next to her was a guy in a red shirt, jeans, a wallet chain, and a leather MC kutte with the insignia for Lucifer’s Own on it. He was maybe 30, looked like a blonde version of Rob Lowe, and he had his elbow out for Charlene to hold onto.

Now, you didn’t know all of the politics about biker etiquette, or any “turf” battles like they sang and danced about in musicals, but it was well known that the Hammer was a Coffin Kings bar, and you’d never seen another insignia step foot in the door, other than Hell’s Belles and Eastside Reapers, since you’d started working there.

Thumper caught sight of the guy who had just come in the door and spun on his stool, about to stand up, but Eddie snatched his arm, and you were sure he stiffly told him to sit back down. Eddie found your eyes over a few shoulders that were pressed together in the crowd, and you exchanged a weary look of disbelief.

The blonde biker gave Thumper a feral grin, wiggling the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Charlene seemed more reserved than normal, not as full of herself, and she was very preoccupied with searching the sea of bodies.

You had a good feeling who she was looking for.

You were glad that Erika was there to motion them over to a table that she had just cleaned off. It was in the corner, further away from the bar.

You were just about to go over to ask Eddie who Charlene was with when a customer blocked your path and gave you a multiple drink order out of the blue, and you had to tell them to give you a second while you caught your bearings.

Now you were trying to see where Steve was, to play interference, but it was too late.

“… I can help you change

Tired moments into pleasure

Say the word and we'll be

Well upon our way

Pain and comfort, deep within you

Till you will not want me any other way...”

You spun on your heel to find that Steve had already spotted the newcomers. You watched the muscles in his face tense, standing with his fists balled at his sides for a few seconds, and then Eddie was there, in his face, pushing him back, trying to get him to keep his cool.

The blonde biker at Charlene’s table put his feet up on the seat next to him and lit a cigarette, seemingly without a care in the world.

“It’s not worth it, man,” Eddie grumbled to Steve, holding his hand on chest. “Let’s just have a good time tonight, forget about them.”

Steve’s eyes were locked in the distance, sunglasses now hooked onto the front of his shirt. “What the fuck is she doing here with Billy Hargrove?”

“Who knows what kind of game she’s playing,” he moved to try and block Steve’s view of them. “Listen, if he crosses a line, we’ll bounce him, otherwise we let it ride, got it? There’s too many eyes on us here tonight to cause a scene, especially after last week.”

In a strange turn of events, Shana, the manager, came out from behind the bar and went over to greet Charlene and her companion. She shook both of their hands, and the two women appeared to know each other.

“...Knuckle deep inside the borderline

This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to..."

“Hey,” you squished your way in between some people at the bar, and caught Shana’s attention when she returned. “How do you know those two?”

Shana cracked open a few beer tops as she spoke. “She’s some rich lady, I only met her yesterday. Stephen, one of the owners, sold his share of the Hammer to her and moved to Florida literally in the middle of the night.”

“… I'll keep digging

Till I feel something

Elbow deep inside the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together…”

You made a sour face, trying to understand what Shana was telling you, but then, realization dawned just as she was sharing the final bit of information with you:

“Charlene Gregson is part owner of the Velvet Hammer now.”

Part 17

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I love you all! I have some fun things planned for the few final chapters of this story, I'm even working on a holiday special💗 Your thoughtful commentary and reblogs always mean so much to me.

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#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson series #I'm on Fire #biker!eddie munson #biker!steve #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson in love #Eddie munson angst #Steve Harrington angst #biker au #stranger things au #Eddie Munson au #older eddie munson

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undermounts · 9 months

Text

and other forgotten things

Summary: One year into his imprisonment, Aerin receives his first visitor.

Or alternatively, my version of the ch. 2 prison scene because I wanted more angst and anger <3

Read it here on AO3

Aerin is no stranger to envy.

He has spent his life wanting. Knowledge, affection, attention, power. Things he coveted but could never have from a family that did not want him, a kingdom that would not have him. Such was his lot in life, from the very beginning. He is Aerin Valleros, second son of the Gentle King, brother to the Crown Prince.

Or at least he was.

Now, Aerin is… well, he no longer knows what he is. A nobody, perhaps. Or worse than that, he is forgotten. He is a dark stain on a long and questionable legacy, the corrupt end to a line of corrupt rulers. He is an afterthought, a bad memory, an unwanted trinket that had long since lost its novelty, just another object to be tossed away with all of the other lost and broken things.

Aerin Valleros, brother to no one, heir to nothing.

And still, he wants.

The thirst for knowledge—a most noble pursuit, his tutors had always said—has never waned. But affection, attention, power!—his ambition, his hunger, has been dampened. He has lived without each before, and he shall live without each again. He will do so gladly if it means he can have the one thing he now desires above all else: freedom.

A small window, set in cold, grey stone—his only connection to the outside world. The mingled chatter of people crossing the streets far below drifts up through the bars, too distant to be distinguishable. People, his people, living.

In the hallway outside his cell, Aerin hears the scuffle of boots against ancient stone, the clink of armor, the whisper of fabric; his guards moving in another rotation. So soon? Aerin cannot help but wonder, questioning his own perception of time. How reliant he has become on the routines of his keepers, the punctual rotation of their shifts serving as his only means of marking the passage of time since he was left–discarded–in this cell a year ago.

Softly, distantly, he mourns, A year…

His name day–twenty one years now, he has lasted–came and went, alone in his cell. His father never even sent word, no acknowledgment that his second son–his only son, now–still existed.

A metallic, shimmery noise, a dozen keys rattling together and then–click!

Aerin blinks as the door to his cell swings open. Too early for mealtime, his mind races, a tasteless bowl of sludge.

All thoughts trickle out of his head as a figure enters his cell, clad in black leather armor, the scent of ash heavy in the air. For a moment, Aerin recalls volcanic fields and the constant presence of fear and agony all around him, but then his impossible reality reforms around him and he stares, slack-jawed .

“Iliana.”

Aerin does not mean to say her name, had vowed to never speak of her, never think of her again. But she is here, miraculously, cursedly, before him, in his blasted cell, a sight he never thought he would see beyond his dreams, his nightmares.

But it is in his nature to be wary, and life in court has taught him that deception is a means for survival. He stands, establishing equal ground, and lets his mask fall over him like a shroud.

“I wondered if you’d ever come and visit me,” he says evenly, each word pleasant but caustic. “It certainly took you long enough.”

How often, in the early days of his imprisonment, had he thought of this moment? At first, he dreamed that she would come to him, beg for forgiveness–how she had wronged him!– to proclaim her dedication to right this wrong, to free him, to undo the damage she had done. Then, as the days dragged on into months, and despair, desperation, and regret–the hurt!–set in, his visions of her shifted. She was vengeance: her blades, her bow, her fists–the arbiters of a swift and terrible justice, acting on behalf of herself, her brother, her friends, and Morella. Some nights, he even begged–let it be quick.

It is hatred, it must be, he thinks, that threatens the stability of his bones now. And fear of her, the woman who had been his undoing. Everything that has come for him after is well-deserved; this he cannot deny, no matter how much it stings. His betrayal and hers, they are wounds he will never heal from.

And yet, Aerin is not prepared for the way Iliana winces. She had deceived him so thoroughly in the Dreadlord’s throne room, he sometimes forgets that she was not trained as he was to hide her emotions. They flit across her face now, pain and grief. Then, anger.

“Apologies, prince,” she snaps, her black leather gloves groaning in protest as she clenches her hands into tight fists. “I’ve been a little busy this past year.”

Aerin scoffs. “I’m sure you were. Celebrations and banquets in your honor must be exhausting.” He rolls his eyes, flinging the words at her like knives. “That’s the price you must pay for leading the life of a hero, I suppose. A heavy burden, you poor thing.”

“That’s not what I–” Iliana cuts herself off, eyes narrowing. She tilts her head and, oh, Aerin does not like that one bit, the way she studies him, as if she is looking right through him. Then, shockingly, pity clouds her face. “No one told you.”

Unease, slick and oily rolls through him. If the words come out a little harsher than he intended—well. Word from the outside world has not breached these walls in months. He is tired of being kept in the dark. “Told me what?”

Iliana takes a deep breath and turns away, her attention straying to the small window of his cell as she folds her arms across her chest. The silence drags on long enough and Aerin feels tempted to shatter it, to demand that whatever information she withholds be released. But then her eyes slide to him and she breathes heavily again, fingers curling against her arms. It occurs to Aerin that her posture looks less guarded and meek almost, like she is embracing herself, comforting herself.

And, damn him, his voice goes soft and careful. “Tell me what? What happened?”

To you. What happened to you?

Iliana drops her arms to her side, then lifts one hand to her hip, searching. But whatever she is looking for, she does not find it, and her hand hangs limply in the air. “I was gone. In the Shadow Realm.”

Fear, shock, intrigue–it is a heady blend that races through him. Aerin takes a shuffling step forward, then halts. He does not know what he intends to do. Go to her? Comfort her? She certainly does not want that, not from him, and he does not know if he can bear it either.

“Why?” he demands instead, drawing a line down the center of his cell, a boundary he will not cross while she remains. “How?”

“Valax,” she answers, and the name clangs around Aerin’s skull with no small amount of dread. He knows it and knows to be wary of it. “She captured me. Experimented on me.”

“To what end?” he breathes out, blinking rapidly as spots cloud the edge of his vision. The Empire of Ash, playing their hand already. “Why you?”

Iliana’s gaze sharpens. “You know her.”

“Know of her,” Aerin corrects, shaking his head. “I never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Iliana says shortly and turns away again. She drifts to the window, keeping her back to him as she says, “Before you ask again—I do not know why. I don’t remember much.”

Her falsehood rings clear in the air, Aerin can see it in her rigid posture, defensive and bracing. How? How had she ever deceived him, this orphaned elf from Riverbend, when she cannot even look him in the eye to lie?

He knows the answer: because he wanted to believe her.

Remember that night together in the forest glade? Our kiss? That was real, Aerin. And it’s still real.

He banishes the thought, grinds it under his boot, but something in him still aches, still yearns. She looks so unsettled that he decides to let her lie hold, something he will circle back to later.

“Are you…” It is difficult, still, to force the words out. To ask this, it feels too much like an admission, an exposure of weakness. He swallows. “Are you well?”

Iliana whirls, and her eyes, glittering ores of emerald, cut through him. Whittling him down to the bone. “What do you care?”

Indignation flares up in him and he glares. “Do you think me incapable of compassion?”

She laughs, a cold and jagged thing, and slashes her hand through the air. She paces back to the entrance of his cell, her steps harsh. “Incapable? Perhaps. But I know better by now than to believe anything you do or say after you lied to us all.”

“Do not forget that you lied to me as well,” Aerin snaps, distantly aware of the guards shifting just beyond his cell. They are listening, he realizes. To report back to the king? To intervene and rescue Iliana if they deem him too dangerous, too volatile? They are listening, and political training be damned, he does not care. “That you would still have me. That we—it was real. You lied.”

He expects Iliana to shout at him, wants her to—her anger, he can bear—but she only sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth, her face at once stricken and furious. When she speaks, it is to the ground, the dusty slab of stone that spans the space between them. “It wasn’t a lie, Aerin.”

He barks out a laugh, full of anger and bitterness, because that is all he has, all he is, all that he can give. Anger, bitterness.

And regret. So much regret, he could drown in it.

“You don’t believe me, I don’t believe you,” he says coolly, forcing his voice to even out, despite how wildly his heart races. “Let us leave it at that.”

Iliana opens her mouth, then clamps it shut, looking for all the world like she might protest. But in the end, she only shakes her head, resigned, and leans back against the metal door of his cell. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he echoes and they lapse into an uneasy silence. It is the closest thing, perhaps, they will ever have to an accord.

Aerin takes their momentary cease-fire to truly study Iliana as she stands before him, glaring at her feet and refusing to meet his gaze. He still cannot believe that she is here, after all this time. Her black leather armor, he notes with grim consideration, is standard issue for Ashen warriors. Her blue skin is pale, but otherwise unmarred, save for the scars she already bore. No signs of physical abuse, or just the work of a really good healer.

An entire year in captivity. Gods… Despite it all, he is grateful that she does not remember much. There is no way to tell how she might have changed, how her spirit might have dimmed. No matter what he feels about her—hate, anger, sorrow—Aerin finds that he does not wish to see her harmed.

“When did you return?” he asks, breaking the silence between them with an easy question, a tentative olive branch.

Iliana eyes him warily. “This morning.”

“This morning?” Aerin starts at that, forgetting himself. For a stupid, pathetic moment, something flutters eagerly against his ribcage, although he squashes the feeling down. “I must be one of your first appointments, then,” he remarks dryly, tilting his head. “What brings you here?”

Iliana’s gaze hardens and her expression shifts into something like grim triumph. Aerin does not know where he misstepped but he gets the impression that they have entered a game and she already has the winning move.

“Tell me everything you know about the Ash Empire,” she demands, hands framing her hips. “And don’t pretend you don’t know anything. You already admitted to knowing about Valax.”

“Why should I?” Aerin waves a hand through the air, dismissive. “What would you offer me in return? You are clever enough, I’m sure you could find answers on your own.”

“Or I could get answers from you and stop wasting time,” Iliana bites out, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezes her eyes closed in frustration. Then, she drops her hand and fixes him with a look that speaks only to her exhaustion—with him, with the Shadow Realm, with everything. “You owe me. You owe me this much.”

He… supposes he does.

Aerin sighs heavily. Sharing knowledge is a task Aerin has always taken a shine to. Few things are more important than learning more, and helping others to learn. This attitude, he thinks, may be the best thing his tutors ever taught him. But the Ash Empire… The dark kingdom is a topic he does not relish remembering.

Still, Aerin shares what he knows, some of it, at least. Foundational knowledge. The Ashen Empress is the true ruler of the Realm and the Shadow Court had been but a fledgling resistance to her reign, one whose hopes of success had been bashed repeatedly by failed attempts to take over the Realm of Light. He speaks briefly of his own role in the Dreadlord’s bid for power against the Empire, doing his best to tamper down any rancid feelings he still nurses about the entire ordeal.

Anything more, he must keep for himself. Future bargaining chips. Perhaps, if he can remain useful, well… Maybe not all is lost for him.

“With the Dreadlord dead, I imagine the Ash Empire is already hunting down any remaining members of the Shadow Court,” Aerin hedges as he wanders over to the window, drumming his fingers against the ledge.

He feels Iliana at his back, her attention heavy on him. “Sounds like the Empire will be coming for you next.”

She is right, he knows. It is a reality he has long since come to terms with, but still, the reminder sends a bolt of fear into his spine. His fingers go still against the stone.

“If the Ash Empire makes it to the Light Realm, they’ll probably take special care in how they eliminate you.”

What do you care? he wants to snap, spitting Iliana’s words back at her. Instead, he only shrugs, keeping his gaze trained on the city outside the window. Something like yearning tugs in his chest.

“So,” Iliana continues, her irritation with his disinterest bleeding into her voice. “It would be in your best interests to tell me everything.”

Aerin arches his brow, glancing over his shoulder. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“Knowing you for more than five seconds.”

A dry laugh slips out of him and he turns around, leaning against the wall with his hands laced before him. “Planning to protect me, are you?”

“I’m planning to protect everyone,” Iliana corrects, rolling her eyes. “If I am to stand a chance protecting the Light Realm against the Empire, then I need to know everything.”

She is so… She is everything he read about, everything he dreamed of being as a child. A hero.

He pities her. For her naïveté, for believing that she can fix every problem that comes her way. Almost as much as he envies it. She has never known true failure, not yet. When she does—and it is inevitable—then, she will understand. What she has now, her determination, her purpose—it cannot last.

Aerin looks away, running his hand through his hair. One more bit of information, he supposes, he can grant her. In his best interest, as she said.

“There’s only one other thing, and to be honest, I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself,” he admits slowly, gauging her reaction. “The Empress has a terrible creature under her power. I caught a glimpse of it in the distance when I was bringing Nia to the Dreadlord.”

At the very mention of Nia’s name, Iliana’s expression looks almost murderous, like she might strike him down just for mentioning the priestess, but miraculously, she refrains. “What was it?”

Despite himself, Aerin shudders, recalling the undead creature, crafted of the seven hells itself. “Massive. Skeletal. A beast from nightmares.”

“How vague,” Iliana remarks, but Aerin knows the information has taken hold. She looks unsettled, certainly. Maybe even afraid.

His answering smile is wry and almost apologetic. “I know. But it is unlike anything I have ever seen before.”

Iliana nods, seemingly satisfied with this information. “Thank you for telling me what you know.”

The look in her eyes makes it abundantly clear that they both know it is not everything, although for now it is enough. Maybe—Aerin curses himself for even entertaining the thought—she will come back for more. The idea lights something within him, although he does not want to think about what it means, what it says about his feelings toward her, everchanging and impossible to curb. It isn’t freedom, but it is something. How nice it would be, to have just a piece of the outside world come to him.

Desperation claws its way into Aerin’s chest and he hates himself for the way he caves, for how small his voice sounds as he throws out a lifeline, begging her to take it. “I don’t suppose… you might visit me again?”

Iliana’s expression is guarded, her response measured. “Maybe. I doubt I will even have a moment to breathe since the world needs saving. Again.”

That is… something.

Aerin tilts his head. Always playing the hero. “And must it always be you who saves it?”

He is not prepared for the way her shoulders slacken and she glances away. Gone are any traces of the bravery and determination she had brandished at him moments ago. What faces him now is only solemn acceptance, weary resignation to service. “Apparently.”

Aerin wants to tell her to stop, that it isn’t her problem to fix. But he would be a hypocrite. After all, didn’t he behave the same once, long ago? Believing that the realm’s problems were his to fix, if only he had the power.

And look where that thinking got him. Trapped in an old cell.

“Look, I can’t make any promises,” Iliana begins, her eyes flicking around the room as if she can’t quite look at him, but cannot settle her attention anywhere else. “Things between us are… I don’t know what they are. But I’ll try to visit again. I may need more information. So.” Her tone hardens, all business once more. “If you conveniently remember anything else?” She gestures to the guards outside. “Send word. Maybe I’ll come.”

Aerin suppresses a smile, amused. “Sure. I hope you do.”

Iliana shoots him a look he can’t quite decipher, then turns away. As if expecting her, the guards unlock the door, revealing the torchlit corridor beyond. Aerin takes a steadying breath and is about to retreat to his cot when Iliana pauses in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. Aerin watches her hesitate, mouth opening and closing, and then—

“Do you regret what you have done?” she asks softly. “Wish that you hadn’t…”

Wish that you hadn’t betrayed me? Betrayed all of us?

Betrayed your brother?

Aerin’s breath is hard in his chest, something solid he cannot get out. Yes, he wants to scream. Yes to all of it.

“Would you even believe me?” Aerin asks earnestly, but he knows it is a fruitless endeavor. “Whatever my answer.”

Iliana is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. But then she answers, “No. I suppose not.”

Aerin nods, closing his eyes as she slips out of the cell and the metal door slams shut behind her. He knew better than to hope for anything else. They did not trust each other. He did not think they ever would again.

The lock slides into place with a finality that quakes through his bones, sealing him back into this forgotten place, made for forgotten things.

#aerin valleros #aerin x mc #prince aerin #my writing #blades of light and shadow #bolas #choices #bolas 2 #choices blades #blades 2 #i am very excited to see what happens next in blades2 #i just needed to be as messy and complicated as possible <3

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squib-2006 · 8 months

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Dr pt2 spoiler warning

This was a fantastic set of episodes

• Kai and wyldfire are everything. Kai having to deal with someone who acts like he did in the earlier seasons is poetic justice and funny as hell.

• I also like how they kinda tried to explain why Kai seemed calm after sea bound and nyas seaifcation. I guess Kai meditating with wu would make him calmer. At least it confirms that Kai was upset (even if they didn’t show it)

•I am kinda upset that nothing from skybound was brought up with the Djinn. I personally don’t really like skybound but I still find that it could be used more than just oh yah that happened right wink wink. I mean we had to suffer through skybound for something right?

• I actually really liked sora and nyas whole plot with the Djinns curse. It was fun and had a nice conclusion.

• Coles return is great I love his little gang in the land of forgotten things. My favorite has to be the skeleton girl (I forgot her name probably cuz they only say it like 2 times) she’s funny.

• I do wish there was a scene where nyas like btw I found Cole and the other ninja react. I mean she does mention it at the end but no one except Zane has any real reaction.

• Beatrix going off the rails was really funny. It felt like someone gave a teen with daddy issues an insta death weapon.

• rapton switching sides kinda came out of left field for me. Like the guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box I think it would be more likely for other characters to switch sides. Also how did he recover from being tased so quickly? Man was out cold and not two minutes later he was up and walking around.

• kinda felt that the whole being sucked into non existence should have had more lasting effects (totally not because I want to traumatize or brutally injure Kai no why would I want that /s) tho fake out deaths are pretty par for the course with ninjago, this one actually didn’t make me feel all that much cuz I knew the moment wyldfire got pulled in that this was a fake out. They wouldn’t kill one of there new characters that quickly.

•so wus just legitimately fudging dead. Never thought we would see the day when this old mad would just peace out. Also ghost wu legit looks like he’s slowly loosing his form or something cuz in the first half he appears with his full body but in the last scene he’s in he’s just a chest and a head. It might have just been a stylistic thing tho.

•I’m not mad jay only showed up for around 30 seconds (this just might be my bias tho cuz jays probably the ninja I care the least about, not that I hate him or anything he’s just not that interesting to me) it’s kinda refreshing for me cuz nya gets to be her own character for a bit and not be completely attached to Jay and Jay gets to take up less screen time (if I am being honest Jay had so much focus in the wild brain seasons it kinda got annoying to me personally) idk if he’s actually lost his memories or if that leak is wrong cuz it would make sense cuz he has not searched for the ninja (specifically nya cuz that man is a simp for his gf) Arin missing him by a second is hilarious to me.

•not sure about how I feel about Lloyd being the linchpin for the entire thing. Part of me thinks that it would have fit the shows themes better if all of them used their elemental powers or something else to power the cores to fix everything. But another part of me understands that Lloyd get main character privileges cuz he’s the son of ninjago god.

•still kinda frustrated that they are changing how elemental powers work. Originally they were from the first spinjitzu master, but the whole source dragon being the source (for lack of a better word) of the elemental powers, it completely retcons and nerfs the first spinjitzu master. It would have made more sense if they still came from the powers of the fsm and were gifted through the source dragons to people.

•the implication of the cursed realm merging with the rest of the realms brings up the question if the departed realm merged to? Does that mean no one can die??? Or is there some sort of force that still keeps the departed realm separated from the rest (like how the people in the land of the forgotten can’t leave) or can some dude just wander in to the departed realm and see like there dead grandma chilling with the fsm having tea or some crap like that.

•Lloyd going I forgot there are two of them now towards Kai and wyldfires antics is peak writing. And all the arson and explosions the two created is just beautiful.

•I think the Kai and wyldfire duo should be called like the arsonist or the kaboom duo

•THE HUGGG!!!! My boi was so happy looking when the tackle hug was done.

•I just cant get my brain to shut up about these two. They give off tired dad who sometimes gives in to his old chaotic ways he’s sworn he’s grown out of and living embodiment of chaos and fun daughter who drags her dad into crazy things.

Tdlr I loved this second half and had a few issues with it but it was still really good.

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hikennosabo · 4 months

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#tristampparty day 12, episode 0: high noon at july

LAST DAY OF @tristampparty ALREADY LET'S GOOOOOO

bang, bang!! nai liking movies is such a cute little detail, (it's in the manga too!!) i don't think it gets talked about enough. he went from thinking gunslinging heroes were cool to guns being a coward's weapon...

i still can't really fully wrap my head around the higher dimension... it contains the "core" of the plants and... it's where plants pull matter and energy from...? yeah i CANNOT fathom it actually

also like. how did humans even discover how plants worked and what they could do. assuming the lore is the same as in the manga (for what lore there is in the manga...) and humans created plants. who what when where why how. humans made plants and use plants every day yet they're such a black box... uuaaaaa (steam comes out of my ears from thinking too hard)

zazie's priority lies with the planet itself and whether or not worms will be able to continue to live and thrive on it, but i wish we got to see more of what the worms need to like. actually live and survive. they have a hivemind so they can't truly "die" (i guess unless every single worm is wiped out), but what do they need to live? we see that the giant worms eat humans, but what did they eat before humans crashed on the planet? tomas? other worms? do they photosynthesize? do they need to breathe? humans use worms for food and resources, but what exactly would knives have do to the planet to make it unlivable for the worms?

the song that vash sings is... the song knives plays on his piano. in the original/98, the song that was important to vash was rem's song. here, that... may or may not be the case...? vash says the song "just comes to him," but in this scene he's forgotten rem... then again, the song isn't what helps him remember her.

there was a theory post from a while ago that posited this song is the voice, or... frequency of the plants(?) which could very well be the case. vash and knives taking that frequency and singing or playing it in a way humans can hear... rem was onto something when she called them a bridge.

i wonder how much of this scene is an actual memory. maybe vash did sing that song, and nai heard it, and they played it on the piano together. and that's why knives continues to play it in the present day.

maybe i'll go eat some rocks.

this is reminding me of... in the manga when vash escaped from the ark and knives was begging him not to go. it's... yeah, pretty much the same. different scenario, but the same.

this sequence is so gorgeous... once again i'm asking how people ever thought this anime looked bad. lmao.

BUT MY MAIN QUESTION IS THIS!!! IS THIS REALLY REM SPEAKING TO VASH HERE? we know that in trimax, ghosts kind of exist, right? like tesla appearing to the twins, wolfwood appearing to livio... is this a similar case? what's happening on the "outside" is meryl's voice reaching through to vash, right? so is this more like, meryl's presence reminds vash of rem, so this is what vash wishes he could hear from her? like is this coming from his subconscious? or... is it really the spirit of rem somehow...

i'm overthinking it. i'm overthinking it.

i wonder what rem's ghost would say to knives.

i'm obsessed with the fight that comes after. OBSESSED. screencaps don't do it justice, i love the weightiness, the camerawork, the choreography... IT'S JUST FUN TO WATCH!!!!

THE BITE HAS BEEN POSTED SO MANY TIMES BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH IT'S SO FUNNY. outside of when they were kids, this is the most they've acted like siblings this whole show and i love it.

why are his boobs so big

and then there's the wings. the wings... and their context. manga readers know. they're a symbol of, hmm... not forgiveness, but... the first step to it, maybe. the love between them. flying to safety. supporting each other. being side-by-side. right?

they're using their wings to fight each other right now, so i'm sure the plan is to hit us with the wings again at the end for maximum emotional impact. the fact that they both have one wing each makes that extremely fucking obvious, i think. (remember in the manga vash sprouted 2 wings at first, which he couldn't sustain)

I JUST LOVE THIS SHOT. IT'S SO COOL.

oh. ohhhhhhh.

it's so interesting that the angel arm comes from vash combining(?) the cube with his gun... does this mean angel arms can't manifest normally? like, do you need the cube? or does the cube just make it easier? and what about knives, can he manifest his?? like this can't be the one and only appearance of the angel arm in tristamp, right, we're gonna need it again for the fifth moon and the ark escape, right??

(assuming those events will even happen in tristamp, but fifth moon AT LEAST is like. a constant in all timelines, i feel. like how time travel stories have "nodes" that can't be changed, right? but this isn't actually that kind of story. so who knows.)

...huuuuhhhh and i just noticed vash's prosthetic arm disappears when he manifests the angel arm. umm... i'm not entire sure what that means. is it because his gate was in his left arm...?

hey where'd she get those binoculars

crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch (i'm chewing on rocks)

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH

"since when have we been so different"... kills me in so many ways, but... in episode 3 vash says that knives hasn't changed. ("since that time," he says, which i assume is referring to the flashback scene in episode 9.) and knives says right back at you. but here, vash is basically saying, who are you. you're unrecognizable to me now. that's literally what he says in the dub. and again knives says right back at you. "you haven't changed." "i could say the same of you." "who are you?" "who are you?" they're brothers. they haven't changed. they've changed so much. they know each other better than anyone else. they don't recognize each other anymore. they love each other. did they ever really know each other?

crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch.

when i first watched tristamp the significance of this all was lost on me. i didn't know any context.

i didn't know that the original trigun started with july already destroyed. i didn't know vash's original bounty. i didn't catch the insurance department mention, or who eriks was, or chronica, or what it meant that the earth fleet was going to arrive, or this being numbered "episode 0"... nothing. all of it went completely over my head. oh i knew milly though. milly is forever.

but now i'm people who know. and i think orange's decision to adapt the story like this, to make it a prequel... is fucking ballsy and cool and i respect it.

that being said, i still don't understand what zazie is talking about... and how they know this. i don't understand all the scifi technobabble with chronica at the end either... what i'm assuming is that the earth forces are keeping tabs on the higher plane(??) and/or on gate readings(?) and... were alerted to what was going on that way? does "crossing over the wall of light" just mean they're using warp drive? why can't zazie talk normally.

uagh. what a fucking journey, man, and it hasn't even begun yet. glad i got to rewatch and go a little crazy. i think the fixation is beginning to fade a little bit (it's been long enough, this is how my brain cycles through things) but the brainrot never truly goes away. girl with plant twins icon gets emotional about the plant twins once again, more at 11.

ty to @revenantghost for organizing i had fun!! :'D

#tristampparty #june speaks #trigun talk

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emailblog · 2 years

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Would you write a Bradley Rooster Bradshaw request where he acts overdramatic when his wife gets a papercut because he recently came back from a mission and just wants all her attention/affection?

Author's Note: I hope I did this ask justice! I had this scene in my head when I read this, so that's what I wrote because I cannot stop thinking about a pouty Rooster.

Word Count: 1.0k

After not seeing Bradley for months, sitting in his arms while lying in the shared bed was a rewarding feeling. Laying on his chest as he rests against the headboard so he can show you pictures of his friends and adventures brings a smile to your face because while the mission was a scary and worrying experience for the both of you, there were bonds that were either solidified or created during the affair. While he glosses over a picture of him and Pete sharing a hug, you grab it just in time.

“Awe, uncle and nephew bonding time! Roos, this is such a nice picture.” You comment while your index finger runs over his form. A soft smile finds its way to his face as he watches you admire the simple gesture, so he lets you hold the picture for a little longer.

“Yeah, well, when both are faced with the fact that you could indeed die at any moment and risk your lives for each other, the relationship tends to strengthen.” He tries to joke, but you frown. You know he didn’t die, that’s obvious as you feel his chest fall up and down with each breath, but the thought of him being that close to death bothers you. Suddenly, Bradley doesn’t want you looking at the picture anymore. Without a word, he grabs it quickly from your hand.

“Ow! Fuck me.” You cradle your finger in your hand as blood starts to seep through the cut, but Bradley just chuckles, causing your body on top of him to shake.

“Honey, it’s only been a few hours. I think we need a break.” His remark would normally have you hitting his chest with a laugh, but the cut stings worse than any you have had before. Getting up to go to the bathroom to clean it has Bradley angrily sitting in the bed missing your warmth. He stares with furrowed brows at the wall like a pouting child, waiting for you to come back. After a few minutes of nothing, he gets up and walks to the bathroom to find you searching through the cabinets.

“Are you coming back?” He asks as you take out the container of Neosporin. You sigh, trying to open the tube with one hand.

“I will in a minute, Bradley.” Normally, he would walk away and let you do your thing, but the tone mixed with the use of his first name (and having not seen you in months faced with the threat of death) has him taking the tube from your hand roughly.

“It’s Roos to you, little lady. Bradley makes me feel like you’re mad at me.” He looks down at your cut and carefully applies the cream. You look at him closely, and it sinks in. The longing you’ve felt as he’s been away for so long. Slowly, you kiss his cheek, letting your lips stay there for a moment. You can feel Rooster stop rubbing in the Neosporin.

“I could never get mad at you, Roos.” You whisper out. Blood rushes towards his cheeks, and you can see him trying to push away a smile.

“Except for that one time when you were sick and told me to do laundry just to find out that I left a red sock in with your white work shirts.” He recalls, reaching into the medical bag to pull out a band-aid.

“Don’t remind me.” The small grumble you let out at the memory has him cheekily laughing because, as he’s mentioned before, you’re cute when you try to be angry at him. As he finishes the last wrap of the band-aid, he leaves a kiss on it.

“Now you’ll heal in no time because of my magic powers.”

“Magic powers? Brad, one time when I came to pick you up, you kissed me so hard, I had a bruise on my cheek.” You two stare at each other for a moment. You’re on the closed toilet lid, slouching slightly, and he is crouched in front of you, one knee on the ground.

“It went away within the week!” He tries to reason, but you shake your head dismissively with a smile.

“Bradley–” You start, but he picks you up suddenly, causing you to scream. You beat on his back while telling him to let you down, but he just lifts a hand to land a smack on your ass.

“I haven’t seen you in months, woman, and you want me to sit in a bathroom floor with you? It’s time to go back to bed.” He throws you on the bed while finishing his sentence, and he lets himself fall on top of you.

“Bradley, get off of me.”

“No, you get the whole package, Darling, and I want to be as close to you as possible.” He wraps his arm around your frame while leaving soft kisses on your neck.

“Can I send the package back to Maverick?” You ask with the best fake-serious tone you can pull off. He just moves your hair out of the way and puts on a fake thinking face.

"I don't think he'd want what I'm trying to give you." He kisses your nose, so your scrunch up your face.

"You're disgusting, Rooster." You push his face away in an attempt to sit fully on the bed instead of having your legs hang off, but Rooster pushes you back down halfway.

"I thought that's how you liked it, Honey."

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun maverick #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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val-the-bookworm · 2 years

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Nicky Valentino (from Fictif) is an absolute comfort character for me, which means I’ve collected some information about him!

I just feel like I need to share what I’ve gathered with others who might be interested! Feel free to comment any other facts/headcannons/etc you guys have, I love to hear what other people think or picked up!

First off, here is a list of actual facts that can be found in the story or stated by the authors of TATW:

* The story takes place some time after April 1925 (cause Nicky knew about The Great Gatsby), but before August 1929 (because the story takes place before The Great Depression) - which is a 4 year 4 month time difference

* Possibly before 1928 (which is when phones changed from the candlestick) — that would make it a 3 year time gap

* He keeps a small tin of dog treats in his breast pocket incase he stumbles upon a stray

* There was a 3 year age gap between him and his sister

* His birthday is on November 12th.

* Nicky's favourite animal is the wolf.

* Nicky’s zodiac is Scorpio.

* His favourite colour is blue.

* His favourite alcoholic drink is whiskey.

* His favourite dishes are lobster, PB&J and anything made by MC.

* His favourite books are This Side Of Paradise and The Sun Also Rises.

* He was born in Sicily, Italy. Grew up in South Brooklyn

* Nicky is Catholic.

* His crimes include bootlegging, racketeering, obstruction of justice and loansharking.

* He did not enjoy his first time.

* His first kiss was when he was 15.

* His celebrity crush is Gloria Swanson.

* His dad kicked him out of the house for dressing like a gangster.

* He used to shine shoes as a teenager.

* In Chapter 9, two of his other henchmen are named/called Johnnyboy and Richie.

* In Chapter 10, it's revealed that he has made several charitable donations to a homeless shelter, a boys and girls club, and the church he went to as a kid.

* HE SINGS SWANEE TO MC WHILE THEY DANCE ON A BRIDGE AT NIGHT (I absolutely adore this song, so I about passed out when I read this scene lol)

* He is big reader and likes to learn from the books

* He grew up with big dogs

* If he wasn’t a gangster he would own a dog rescue center or be a model

* He is left handed

* His parents are from the country

* He had lots of nightmares as a kid

* His sister, Sofia, loved daisies

* Central Park is one of his favorite places in the city

* He prefers blackjack over poker

* This man straight up had flower crowns for us to wear and dance in before the wedding (I’d like to think he made them with the help of a maid who taught him)

Now some of my personal headcannons:

* When Mc and him are riding together he sits in the seat diagonal to the driver, cause that is the most dangerous seat in the mob world

* An Italian pet name Nicky calls MC is ‘Cara Mia’ which translates to my dear

* If Nicky and Mc have a daughter they would name her Sofia in memory his little sister.

* Definitely has some children’s books scattered among his bookshelf, considering he said…

* He would most definitely do that thing where his kid stands on top of his feet and then dances them around the room

* Would be so down to adopt kids. Growing up on the streets, and having a horrible father, make him want to help all of the children in a similar position

* Would definitely want a big Italian family (if Mc was also down) cause he find family so important, and it makes him so happy to see their children. If Mc only wanted one kid though he would totally be fine, he is just so soft for the family dynamic and his kids

* (Ultrasounds weren’t a thing until the 1950’s, but let’s say they were created sooner) Nick would 110% tear up/cry seeing the first ultrasound, and once the baby is born and in Mc/his hands for the first time

* He LIVES for the cute domestic stuff. Like just cuddling and/or talking: ✅ Washing dishes together: sold! Making breakfast for Mc/together: a must!

* Nick has bi-wife energy and no one can convince me otherwise

* This man’s love language is 110% acts of service

And finally my last category for this list; all of the nicknames he calls MC:

* Toots

*honey

*(my)love

*sugar

*gorgeous

*baby

*sweetheart

*my one and only

*doll face

*sweet thing

*sweets

*my queen

#fictif #tatw #nicky tatw #fictif tatw #nicky valentino #two against the world #fictif headcanons #fictif nicky #fictif nicky valentino #fictif two against the world

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mercyisms · 3 months

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OH if we're asking specific scenes can we get one for the sword fight? 👀 especially Joy's parts (he has a sword!!!) and Justice's (the "SELF DEFENSE, WE DO ALLOW IT" line has been living rent-free in my mind aksjd that skill generally gives me very Drama vibes i love it)

[necro elysium (yuck!!): the director's cut] okay, i am so, so thrilled you asked about the sword fight. in my initial post, i talk a bit about why joy and rigour become very present here. but justice, also, partially because we want the cristabel skills to start jumping out because mercymorn is actively drawing on cristabel's skills (swordfighting), but i also do really love the connection you've drawn between justice & drama (a skill augustine probably has in spades). when concocting mercy's skillset for the purposes of this story, i did think a little abt direct analogues to harry. i think it's really intriguing and relevant to think about what it means if mercy (or cristabel)'s drama or sense of gravitas comes from a place of "justice"! one of the reasons i gravitated towards that word was not just because of the rigidity or principles (however fussy) that seemed present in both characters, but a sense of righteous and self-justification.

i also knew i was going to write a swordfighting scene because of this longstanding headcanon i've had in my head. probably in 2021??? i wrote a mercy/cytherea fight scene that will never see the light of day now, but it was exploring the idea that, because the lyctoral cavs had all either explicitly learned swordfighting together or would've practiced intensely together, there is a muscle memory in each lyctor's body for the other. i thought this could be especially true of cristabel and alfred, who invented the cavalier oath and, i think, probably learned how to fight together. so joy is also present & i wanted to suggest that joy is recognizing not only augustine, but also alfred's soul-in-augustine. (see also joy's triumphant assertion that "[it] was always better [than 'alfred']" at sparring.) i don't think this headcanon conflicts with anything we learn in nona. rather, i would say augustine and mercymorn fight (verbally, physically, sexually, who am i to judge) because they have always had this "double act," even pre-res, but i would also forward that maybe augustine and mercymorn fight, or fall into patterns of fighting, or somewhat enjoy patterns of fighting not only bc of toxic imperialism (see that 'essay' wherever on this blog) but also bc cristabel and alfred sparred together & did it for fun & so on every level of the soul, there is a recognition happening. i only, i suppose, allude to this in the fic, but i was pleased to get it onto the page somewhere!! & so flattered you enjoyed; writing fight scenes is weird and hard! even one that is supposed to be bad!! i am very grateful i could lean on the voice of cristabel oct.

#m: tlt fic #darethshirl #asks #tysm tysm tysm

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safflowerseason · 3 months

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I also haven't done a comprehensive book post but I'd love to hear your thoughts! If anything, it's just made me have 10,000 more questions than I did before which was already A Lot. Also Justice 4 Mischa/Marissa always.

You sent this before we got Mischa Barton dropping major bombshells!! Now so much has changed!!

I said this briefly in earlier comments but my overall take on the book now is that, while it had lots of insights in other areas not related to Mischa Barton, it ultimately demonstrated the limits of the oral history approach. MB’s specific revelations also demonstrate why an oral history was probably not the best way to really get “behind the scenes” of what happened on this particular show. Like, in my experience oral histories are generally pretty fluffy and they kind of allow everyone to share memories and their recollections without much pushback…which is basically what happened in the book. If you interview as many people as Sepinwall did and absolutely everyone refuses to go on the record about two co-stars dating because they know just how fucked-up it is…that is a story that requires a *totally* different angle than a fluffy oral history, especially one that's such a direct collaboration with the showrunners. I’ve been thinking about the book recently published by Mo Ryan called Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood. That’s the kind of approach you’d need to do her story justice.

At the same time, I do maintain that Sepinwall emphasized that what happened with MB’s exit was not her fault, in spite of his past (sketch) history with the show. He gave a lot of detail about network fuckery, Schwartz’s failures as a show-runner in S3, and he also showed that Brody and McKenzie were actually the ones being assholes on set, not MB, but that no one in charge cared because to Schwartz they were the two most important characters - ie, MB was considered expendable and the men were not.

As for Schwartz…I already thought he came off pretty terribly in the book but now, like, oh my god. I don’t know how anyone but ESPECIALLY women could work with him ever again. I think it's so gross to claim that you're going to be open and honest about everything that happened on your show when you know this HUGE SECRET. Like I *get* why nobody wanted to go on the record about this and of course it's fundamentally Ben McKenzie's or Mischa Barton's news to share, but then don't PRETEND that you're going to fully explain what happened twenty years later when you know it's not the full story. Jesus Christ.

What makes me so mad is that the only reason Schwartz was so comfortable “taking the fall” in the limited way he did for what happened with MB and the show’s decline in quality is because it hasn’t actually cost him anything, and sadly I don’t think MB’s interview is going to change that. Nobody important in Hollywood cares because it was so long ago and it was his first show and one actress’s mental health and career prospects are a small price to pay for letting a man do whatever he wants on a set. So he didn’t risk anything by going on the record about all this.

As for the non-MB parts of the book, of course I enjoyed reading everyone’s perspectives looking back, especially in the first year, and the little random fun stories that were sprinkled throughout. Chris Carmack came off as a pretty decent guy to me, and Adam Brody clearly has done a lot of reflection on that era of his life and how he acted at the time. I love Kelly Rowan and Peter Gallagher so much and I enjoyed their take on things (also intrigued by the comment that they weren't super tight on set?!) And I thought the book was a great overview of just how many factors and voices and interests went into making a single piece of television during the peak years of network tv. Like, so many different execs in charge of different things, all putting competing pressures on the show…it’s easy to see why television was so formulaic in that period. The O.C. in its earliest and best days really didn’t fit the mold for anything on TV, and as the book laid out why that was kind of the show's undoing in a way (in addition to Schwartz f*&king it up).

That was a lot and seems like enough to be getting on with for now, haha. Ultimately what I really want is a two volume exposé on the toxic culture of Hollywood in this early 00's era and how so many young women were chewed up and spat out by the system, with Mischa Barton's story as a prime example. She deserves justice!

#welcome to the oc: an oral history #mischa barton #the marissa discourse #book thoughts #finally getting around to the asks in my inbox...

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thegoldenshi-shi · 11 months

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I am currently talking to the Sunny anon on Discord and they have called me shy, I am unsure how to react because I have never been called shy, closed off, sure, but never shy. They have made me blush and I don’t know how to take it haha. They had also called me cute and wholesome as I have explained to them that before I had my name, Meister, on here, I did act different when I sent asks but now that I do have a name, I got shy because I am talking to an artist I look up to that is willing to interact with me, so I guess it makes sense to be called shy.

Other than that little thing, I have finished everything! I finished my lifeguarding lessons and passed, I had an award ceremony for my school today and got Principals Honour roll which is a student who keeps a 90% and above average, and I have fire cadets soon which I am looking forward too. So soon enough I will maybe be talking a lot more, unless I am working, of course.

I find your Ratchet and Drift animation very thrilling! The whole time I was looking in awe as each scene came as it showed such emotion and flow that I was amazed. I hope one day I will be able to move people how you have moved me with it. It reminds me of the song ‘I Do Adore’ by Mindy Gledhill, and I absolutely love that song with a passion, I always think of Prowl and Jazz for it or Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. The part where Drift, or Deadlock, was holding Ratchets spark I believe, made my heart melt and squeal, I found it adorable as Deadlock looked like he was cradling it so gently and softly, as if it’s something to be treasured.

I always never know what to say at the end of these rambling, I could go on and on about your art but I am never sure what to say other than I am always pleased to write to you, like a pen pal, and hope someday I’ll be confident enough to reveal myself and my account to you, whenever that will be. I hope you have a wonderful day/night, Shi-Shi, I will talk soon.

-Meister

Ah, my anons are making friends, how nice ^J^ It's kind of funny how people always seem to act differently when they're anonymous vs when they're identified, even if it's just an anon tag. There's something very freeing about anonymity, especially when talking to someone you find interesting. (It does make me curious which asks were yours pre-Meister tag, but I'm not going to pry hehe)

Congratulations on doing so well on your school! I was so proud for you when I read your ask late last night that I had to pause and smile to myself for a bit. Good job on passing your lifeguarding lessons as well~

I'm happy that you liked my animatic. It had been sort of niggling at the back of my brain for a bit before I committed to doing a short version. The whole Deadlock/Drift and Ratchet relationship has intrigued me since I first heard of it so I wanted to do it justice even if it was a tiny project. Deadlock cradling the memory of Ratchet at the end was the hardest pose to draw(curse robot back armor -_-). I am beyond embarassed (but pleased) that you found it moving, thank you very much for your kind words.

It's always a pleasure Meister, I hope you have a lovely day/night.❤️

#meister anon #I feel kind of bad for bullying drift/deadlock so thoroughly #but it was kind of fun at the same time hehe #drift #deadlock #ratchet #dratchet #I know “I do Adore” actually #it is a very sweet song good for those two groups I agree #thank you for your ask

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inkedroplets · 1 year

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16!!!!!!!

16. Is there any written scene that you think about a lot?

So, a little context. the premise of the fic is that Lena gets cold feet about Non Nocere, but is hurting so much that she makes a deal with J'onn's brother to give him his freedom if he erases all her memories of Kara Danvers. It would have a domino effect of her forgetting everyone else as well since she met them through Kara. She would retain her memories of Supergirl however. But with their relationship frosty at best, she moves back to Metropolis without anything (Kara) keeping her there.

Kara would only be able to talk to Lena as Supergirl due to the risk that she might dredge up the memories that J'onn's brother erased . Pretty much what happened to Alex when she erased her memories of Kara but with the caveat that Lena doesn't want to remember so it's even more dangerous for her. Lena does actually manage to have a happy life in Metropolis. She even gets a girlfriend. But there's something missing that keeps bothering her. Dreams that she can't remember very well, ones that has her waking up in tears. Anyway the scene in question has Kara acting as a bodyguard for Lena, she's perched atop the penthouse roof after there's a threat on Lena's life. Lena takes the protection very begrudgingly and she spends it having an evening in with her girlfriend while Kara can overhear everything.

“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Tatsu said, peering at Lena over the rim of her wine glass. She flashed her a slightly coy half-smile, not quite meeting Lena’s gaze although not actively shying from it either.

“You didn’t intentionally wait for me to have a couple glasses of wine before asking me, did you?” Lena teased. “If so, you might want to hold off until I’ve had a few more.” She arched an eyebrow, tracing her index finger alongside the rim of her glass.

“Am I that transparent?” Tatsu grinned toothily. “I meant to ask you when we first met, actually, but it slipped my mind… Somehow.” Her smile shrunk, became more secretive and her gaze flickered away. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Lena murmured, trying to mask the blush rising in her cheeks by pouring herself another glass of wine. “Fire away.”

“Nothing earth-shattering,” Tatsu assured her, running a hand lazily through her hair, a habit of hers that Lena had grown quite fond of. “Why did you move back to Metropolis? It was so sudden,” she added quickly, sounding slightly panicked as if she regretted asking Lena in the first place. “It was,” Lena agreed. She pursed her lips, momentarily lost in thought “I shouldn’t have asked.” Tatsu reached out and gave Lena’s arm a squeeze. “No,” Lena said and let out a little puff of laughter. “It’s really nothing, I just feel a little foolish, is all. I had my own reasons for moving to National City in the first place.” “Okay,” Tatsu said carefully, her hand still wrapped gently around Lena’s forearm. “I was watching TV and Supergirl was on the news and I don’t know why but I just had this idea, this stupid idea that we could work together. That all the good I wanted to do, we could do together.” She smiled sheepishly, not quite able to meet Tatsu’s gaze. “After Lex, I thought that I could undo some of the damage he caused, put more good into the world. A Luthor and a Super working together…” She chuckled. “Maybe I expected too much from both of us…” “Why her?” Tatsu asked. “Why not save yourself the agony of packing and strike up a partnership with Superman? Truth, Justice and a stick up his butt,” she said and toasted him. “I told you it was stupid,” Lena said and shook her head, raising her glass halfheartedly along with her. “I don’t know… Maybe I thought she would be different. That she could look past me being a Luthor and see me for me. Regardless, I figured out that we work much better as the ‘break glass in case of emergency’ kind of associates.” “Her loss.” Tatsu gave her a shy kind of shrug but didn’t shy away from her gaze. “Because you are very good company.” “Now I know you’ve had too much,” Lena fired back, pretending to make a grab for the bottle but smiling while she did so. “And you didn’t make any friends while you were there?” Tatsu asked, looking far more at ease.

“I didn’t go there to make friends,” Lena said, grinning. “And you’ve been around me long enough to know that most people give me a wide berth”

“Present company excluded.”

“For whatever reason,” Lena fired back, grinning.“Honestly, I don’t know why I moved back… I just woke up one day and realized that nothing was keeping me there and it just made sense to come back here…”

#asks #supercorp snippet #I really do need to post more

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lost-technology · 8 months

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I was about to respond to someone directly on their thoughts in the ether, but I decided that I didn't want to harsh their buzz or cause a fight, so I'll just let out my thoughts here. Someone was talking about Wolfwood's grief-reaction in Badlands Rumble to thinking that Vash died. How he wrecked the red fridge in his hotel room (I also see red things and think of Vash. I've had a few things named "Vash" because they were red - good thing Wolfwood wasn't anywhere near my old tower computer). How he donned Vash's sunglasses to go to battle. Vashwooders point to that and go PROOF OF THE SHIP! and I'm like, huh? Really now. I don't think it's just because I'm an asexual. I think if people want to use that as romantic subtext, it's fine. I just think that it's proof of closeness, whatever the form. This is a problem I have with fandom in general, actually - people taking any and every interaction and making an entire thing on it and acting like people who see things differently are wrong. I am going to share a sad story now. I lost someone very dear to me this year. A found-family / chosen family nephew who was also my best friend. (An adult). This was back in January. A huge part of my grief-reaction early on was anger... like pure unfiltered rage without direction. I didn't put my fist through a fridge but I did other things. I screamed at so many people who did not deserve it. I actually had to quit the fast food job I had at the time because I feared that I was going to beat this one snide high school kid who worked there who liked to purposefully antagonize me upside the head with a greasy spatula and decided that getting therapy was better than getting an assault charge. (He did not know my situation, he was just a jerk in general, but I knew that he would be evil if he knew and I was just... not well). Another part of my grief reaction and subsequent healing has been surrounding myself with Eevees. I spent many days doing a canvas painting of a frolicking Eevee. I made careful displays of my nephew's Eevee figurines. We bought a big Eevee-plush for his memorial service that now lives on my bed. This was because my nephew loved Eevees and I associated Eevee as his icon. Either that or Optimus Prime. I can tell you absolutely that if my nephew had been murdered by a bandit rather than a random heart attack and it was time for me to go to battle to bring said bandit-gang to justice, I'd be ornamented with every Eevee-related item I have in his honor. We never banged. We never wanted to bang. We were Aunt and Nephew. We were peas in a pod geeks. And I think that is lost to people in fiction fandom sometimes - the value and importance and even the possibility of other kinds of relationships. I think it's because our society puts so much importance on romance and sex that all else is forgotten. It is perfectly okay to see certain Vash and Wolfwood interactions and reactions to each other as romantic. I know full well that my little Vash x Meryl heart SOARED during that scene in Stampede where Vash comes out of his Plant-coma and tells Meryl that he heard her (Rem's) voice through her / "I heard your voice, too." depending on whether you're watching dub or sub. I don't think it makes Vash x Meryl canon in any way and the relationship is just as easily friends / "Hey, some humans like me!" But, yes, I understand the impulse. It's just... it's not the only way to interpret it or "irrefutable proof" for all fans.

#trigun #badlands rumble #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #shipping discourse #my dumb opinons #personal #pet peeves with all fiction fandoms in general #perfectly normal reactions to grief #extreme reactions to grief #sometimes the extreme reactions are the normal ones

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joculine · 1 month

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DIE Issue #1 Reread (Gillen & Hans)

What an excellent series that keeps on giving. For those not in the know, DIE is a really incredible fantasy horror comic about a group of teenagers who were sucked into a tabletop roleplaying game and spent two years in the bodies of their characters. They got out eventually, but lost one member of their party—25 years later, they are sucked back in. It's fucking great.

Art

First things first, the extreme shadows and harsh lighting from above in the 1991 sequence add so much atmosphere. The whole thing feels like a dream, or perhaps a stage play. Stephanie Hans always does fantastic things with light in her work, but this is something else. Here, it gives the effect of the world melting away, the focus turns to the players and the game, nothing else. Great introduction.

(Scans don't quite do this scene justice. I've done a bit of Photoshop to try to darken the colors to match my trade, but there is a subtle flow between the colors that is missing from a digital image.)

The colors in the section outside the bar are jaw dropping. Blacks, reds, and blue make such a dynamic scene.

I really like how much it reflects the Neo's costume. What do we take from that? This is, after all, the future for these characters. Rainy, flooding lights and glass, new technology. No more swords, dragons, or taverns, just cars, smartphones, and cities. I think the Neo's role as the "future" will remain relevant as we get deeper.

Ash's Name

Ash (I'm going to be calling the lead character Ash, she/her) notes that the only person outside her family to use her first name is Sol's mother—a fact that seems pretty true in 1991 but no longer in 2018. As we see, her wife, sister, and several other members of the party call her Dominic in this time period, at least before the game starts. Chuck doesn't, though she asks him too. Izzy starts to, then switches to Dominic. She also apologizes for not being "woke" in the 90s, which is very funny to me.

Something interesting—Izzy is also the first one to switch back to Ash after using Dominic. When she is mad, upset that Ash is starting to form another plan, she calls her Dominic. When she seems to show pity towards her over Sol, she calls her Ash. Very interesting. If memory serves, we will see Izzy act in a similar way through the comic, mostly accepting Ash's status as a trans woman, but occasionally alienating her, intentionally or not. At least, I think this comes up a few times, I could be misremembering.

I'll be watching Izzy a lot this reread. I like her and I want to see if I can get more out of her story.

Of course, we don't yet know that Ash is trans, nor do we get explicit textual confirmation that she's a trans woman. But I mean, look at her.

One more thing about her name—the double meaning here is intense:

We find later that the word "party" in use to a group of people is one of the things stopped by Ash's geas. Given that Chuck and Izzy both call her Ash, that name is not prohibited by the spell, but it sure seems like Ash has done a lot to distance herself from it even without magic.

This interaction with a bartender is really the perfect spark to reintroduce the game. The gift he has is not for Dominic or his friends—it's for Ash's party, the people who made their way through the world of Die 25 years ago. That act of naming (unknowing by the bartender's part!) sets them down that path again.

ONCE MORE...

There's a question I do have here—did they have a choice? Obviously, Ash could have tried getting rid of the die. She didn't have to get the band back together either. Did she need to grasp it?

Yes and no, it seems. She's the only one reaching for it, everyone else is thrown back at the force. On the one hand, it we can read this as a heroic attempt to hold back the object of danger. On the other, we can see it as more desperate, a fight against the flow to take back former glory. You can pretty easily read Gollum jumping into Mount Doom here—LOTR will be invited as a metaphor a lot more soon.

This also speaks to the trans experience quite a bit. The feeling of pain, the feeling of impending death, the choice that is not really a choice at all. Her life is hollow, surrounded by depressing reminders, an occupation that doesn't appear fulfilling, a lack of friends, and an inability to move forward.

Transitioning saves lives—it's going to save Ash's. It's a shame she has to go through a whole dark fantasy adventure to get there, but everyone's path is different.

We'll see if anyone else in the party has such a strong longing for the game. Angela probably has things the worst out of the party, but currently Ash's problems are the only ones that don't get immediately worse (better in fact!) by entering the game again.

Final arc spoilers here, but Chloe also pointed out the double meaning of "THE GRANDMASTER THREATENS THE REALM"—Of course, you can read this as Sol causing chaos on Die, but as we learn, the original Grandmaster is just a cover for Die itself. The realm stated here isn't the game, it's Earth.

(Also, note the glitch effects around the d20... there's that Neo future motif again.)

It's All For You

I had honestly forgotten that Ash and Sol shared a birthday. It makes a lot of things click into place. Sol tells Ash that the game was made for her. He says it was made for the party. He does not (or at least not often) say it was made for himself.

I don't think this is entirely true. Did Sol want to create something where Ash could find herself? Where the party could achieve their dreams? Perhaps. But I think the game is as much a gift for Sol as it is for Ash. He certainly seems to be excited to play it.

There's still a lot more that could be dug into this issue, especially surrounding Matt and Angela, but I'll save it for now.

All in all, it's a really fantastic opener for the story. It hooked me on a first read (Almost six years ago now! Wow!) and it still holds up, especially on a reread.

#die comic #die reread

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sindar-princeling · 2 years

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actually! i have another question! i know you’ve said that ROP’s holistic reception was rather… :/ but how was the show’s true quality? was there any memorable/fitting music? was it plot accurate? was the film quality high? and a bonus, do you have a favorite scene?

not to offload all this on you at once, but i just want to know your opinion of its quality uwu

hi again! ❤️

I just wanna begin by saying I'm no expert on film- and tv-making, so I don't think I'll have much professional input, but. here we go!

(this is gonna be a spoilery review, just a warning)

overall, the quality was pretty uneven, I'd say. the show was advertised as the most expensive series ever made, and... I personally couldn't see that. especially regarding costumes and cgi, i feel like there was a lot of room to improve. some views and wide shots of locations were pretty nice (lindon, eregion, also khazad dum was just beautiful in some shots), but the scene where they were sailing to valinor looked really bad to me, especially those cgi seagulls.

the acting was a mixed bag. there are characters whose acting i really enjoyed (miriel in the second half of the series, elrond, arondir had his moments, adar was GREAT, elendil was pretty cool, durin was good even when the script wasn't), but it only made the rest look worse in comparison, i'm afraid.

I'd say the music was good. I'm not sure i'd call it memorable, because apart from the opening credits music i well. don't remember it, but that may just be my shitty memory jshkjfhjdk but I don't think there were any moments where music felt unfitting or jarring. it was fine.

about the writing... okay, that's a long one.

as for the plot - they didn't have many rights to tolkien's works, so their options were limited, plot-wise. even the intro with some information from the years of the trees and the first age was very general, and didn't even mention the kinslaying.

but while they had to invent a lot of plot, the characters were RIGHT THERE. all they had to do was do them justice, and in my opinion - they didn't. galadriel isn't wise or power hungry (in my opinion), and it's a shame. her arc is in most part just the writers screaming ISN'T IT IRONIC HOW SHE CAUSED THE THING SHE TRIED TO STOP, it lacks any subtlety.

(on this topic, why did sauron tempt her, and not celebrimbor? does it stink a bit of homophobia or...? it's like they were deadly afraid of even a hint of homoerotic subtext. like im sure that's what happened, but it still sucks)

it's a story about forging of the rings of power, and celebrimbor is barely there. i'm really baffled by some of the writing choices, because they clearly had the rights to the rings, celebrimbor and sauron, so why not tell the story that was written? there is enough material there to tell a compelling story, and in my opinion choosing to omit and overwrite it was a bad one. neither galadriel, nor the original plot benefitted from the writing choices, i think. they both ended up heavily flattened and less interesting than their original versions.

galadriel especially had many of her ambitions and stuggles taken away from her - by making her conflict with sauron central to the plot, the show takes away from the fact that galadriel's biggest stuggle has always been with herself - and in lotr, she wins when she resists the ring (NOT sauron - she resists her hunger for power and her huge ambition. it's about HER). it was one of the changes that made me the saddest, because they had a truly amazing, iconic female character right there, and they wasted her potential so painfully.

it WOULD feel wrong to say i wish they just hadn't chosen her as the main character, because we DO still need more female leads - many, many more. but i can't not be angry at the way they stripped her of her ambitions, best strengths and defining flaws.

there are also many changes to the lore, to which my reactions switched between "why add that?" (isildur's sister, the priestesses? witches? whoever they were), "why change that" (mithril lore (im still all "???" whenever i try to make sense of it)), and "oh my fucking GOD" (halbrand as sauron, mordor's on/off switch). especially the last one was... ridiculous. mordor is a country that's seeped through with evil because of the dark forces inhabiting it for ages, and you're telling me they decided to make it so that it was created within a few minutes because a guy put a sword into a keyhole? fuck off

the whole sauron thing is a material for a separate post and this is already long enough, but I'll just say. i don't get why they had to make drama around sauron. everyone and their mother knows who sauron is, you can just use the impact that this character has instead of creating conflict with a weak plot justification. of course it was going to be hard to create a character from someone who in LOTR is more a symbol than a person - but in my opinion, they didn't make any right choices regarding him. and they didn't even tell the actor he was going to be playing sauron until they were shooting episode three, which is a trend that seriously needs to stop.

all in all, if you're looking for bits of story and lore that tolkien came up with, they are not there. solid 90% of the show - maybe more - is something new or changed

the costumes are... meh, mostly. there is one thing in particular that makes my blood boil, and it's Numenorean armor, best visible on Miriel. take a look at her sleeves:

(id in alt text)

it's fucking. fabric with the scales pattern printed on it??? which is either a pretty bad costume idea/design, or THE cheapest, laziest, almost insulting execution I've ever seen.

also, many costumes are only like two layers of clothes, they usually have few details like jewellery and such, so they often look simply unfinished. especially elven costumes are underwhelming. I think as far as i remember, the dwarves' costumes looked best. I'd recommend watching LanaMarie's videos on youtube, I've stumbled upon them while looking for video essays on rop and it's clear she knows what she's talking about when it comes to costuming.

(also, I stand by what i said when the first promo pics came out - why would you get rid of long-haired male elves? I hate that they did that. are they THAT afraid of breaking gender norms?)

last but not least - i was seriously not impressed by the actors' accents choices. you got English elves, irish harfoots, scottish dwarves, cockney (? i'm not sure) orcs... it was a mess of really ugly stereotypes.

(EDIT: I worded this poorly - it sounds like I mean to say it's the actors' fault, but that's not what I meant. I wanted to say that the actors playing certain races seemed to have been assigned certain accents by the creators and along with some script choices it created a few ugly situations that felt very stereotypical and harmful towards real life people who speak with those accents)

HOWEVER, despite all that i'm gonna end on a more positive note and refer to your last question, my favourite scene. this spot is easily taken by the scene where disa and some other dwarves sing to the mountain to let go of trapped miners. it had amazing impact, to me it was a beautiful piece of lore, and it showed the love and respect and trust the dwarves have for the mountains. it was so short and simple yet so amazingly effective in conveying everything it had to convey. also disa's singing gave me goosbumps, the actress has an amazing voice.

okay, i think that's all i wanted to say (wow, that's. a lot). thank you a lot for asking, I hope that tells you what you wanted to learn! and i really enjoyed this opportunity to talk some more about my thoughts :)

#you managed to ask this on the day when i have some free time in the evening so i was excited about replying to this in detail all day #no questions except on party business #fou-and-foue #rings of power #trop negativity

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