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uzurimisery · 7 months

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chapter 1: the setting. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Watching TBOSAS rekindled my love of this series and Tom Blyth makes young Snow sexy.

wc: 4,422

waring: smut, misogyny, dubcon, toxic relationships, snow is insane, not beta read

AO3 version here | Series Master

“You’re to take Y/N to the gala and after that the two of you will begin a show of courting for the Capitol to watch.”

Coriolanus Snow found you to be a thorn in his side. An unknown variable. You were wellbred stock, perfect for carrying on a bloodline, but somehow you were as disgraced as those from the Districts. Even before the war had started and ended Coriolanus found you insufferable. Too aggressive, undisciplined, and unpredictable. He liked reading people, at this point he’d say he could read others better than they could read themselves. But you were a blank slate. Wellbred, well read, and well insufferable. The only reason he even pretended to care about you was who your mother was.

Dr. Volumnia Gaul was more of a creator than a mother. Mothers cared and nurtured their children with love and compassion, two emotions Gaul was incapable of. Funny considering she was once an obstetrician. It was there that she had been introduced to your father, another prominent Capitol resident, and had you. She liked you, surely, often willing to give you more grace than others for their mistakes, but love would be going too far. Perhaps her being your mother is why Coriolanus liked you even less, you had all of her traits he disliked the most.

The Snow family had always been led by men, a tradition passed down from father to son, an unbroken chain of masculine dominance. But the Gauls were different. They were led by women, strong, capable women who defied the traditional power dynamics. And you were no exception.

You were determined to prove yourself, to carve your own path, to become a leader just like your mother. You fought Coriolanus head-on, challenging his every suggestion, even when you knew your opposition was futile. You were a master of manipulation, using coercion, leadership, and cunning to bend others to your will. Even Coriolanus, the shrewd and calculating Snow, found himself falling prey to your machinations at times.

You had convinced two of the most desirable women in the Capitol, Persephone Price and Iphigenia Moss, that he was in love with them both. For a tense month and a half, they waged a bitter war for his affections, making his life a living hell right after he had returned from District 12. It was as if you simply enjoyed watching the chaos you created, relishing in the discomfort you inflicted upon him.

Coriolanus couldn't deny his grudging admiration for your skill. You were a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of ambition and cunning.You were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve, a challenge he couldn't quite overcome. And that unsettled him.

"Dr. Gaul," he began, his voice laced with scepticism, "I hardly think that I am the most suitable companion for your daughter, even if just for show.”

A sharp, echoing cackle escaped Volumnia's lips, sending a shiver down Coriolanus's spine.

"Oh, Coriolanus," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "my dear star pupil, you underestimate your own abilities. You are the very person I need to keep that girl in line. Plus she makes you look like a more viable successor."

His jaw tensed.

“I hardly think that if you couldn’t control her I could.”

“Control is a fickle thing Mr. Snow,” Volumnia did not even turn to face him as she stared down into a microscope. She turned a dial to clarify the view before then adding liquid, some sort of acid from the smell, and stirring the plate with a glass rod before continuing.

"Y/N is merely playing at having control. She is an actor, a performer, and you, my dear Coriolanus, will be her stage."

“And what is my role in this performance?”

"You will be the charming escort, the perfect foil to her rebellious spirit," she explained. "Your ability to manage her shows that the Gaul name carries on in your relationship with her, breeding the best gamemaker there could ever be."

His fingers itched to throw the beaker of acid onto Gaul. The very thought of touching you made his skin crawl. He could still feel the lingering sensation of your skin against his, a clammy, unnatural warmth that sent shivers down his spine from the last time the two of you had touched even briefly. Truly his interactions with you had been limited before the 10th games, you were two years his junior, it was only after he came back from 12 that he had even spoken to you. Now you worked side by side with each other on the games under your mother, and his every interaction with you made him violent.

The idea of having you draped over his arm all night filled him with a sense of nausea. He could almost picture you under him, your body contorting in agony as you choked by his doing. He envisioned himself standing over one of the ridiculous chaises in your family estate, your father's extravagant purchase. He would slowly tighten his grip around your throat, watching as your eyes bulged in terror and your face contorted in pain.

The thought of your hands desperately clawing at his arms, your tears streaming down your face, sent a strange jolt of excitement through him.

He pictured himself using one of the delicate scarves you always wore to strangle you, the soft fabric contrasting with the harshness of your screams. He would watch as your eyes rolled back in your head, your life fading away with a final, gasping breath.

Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word that adequately described his feelings for you. A venomous mixture of loathing, fascination, and a twisted desire that he couldn't quite explain. Lucy Gray he had wanted to control, but you wanted to break.

“As you wish Dr. Gaul.”

When your mother had told you that you were to be escorted by Coriolanus to the gala and then “pretend” to court him, you were pissed. You saw through his carefully constructed façade of charm and sophistication, recognizing him for the manipulative user he truly was. In his eyes, people were nothing more than expendable pawns, their lives mere tokens in his ruthless game.

While you couldn't deny that you shared a similar disregard for human life, having been raised in an environment where expendability was a given, there was a fundamental difference between your perspectives. You saw value in keeping people alive, recognizing their potential as tools in your own elaborate schemes. Death was not an option for you; it was a blunt instrument, a crude solution to a complex problem. People were willing to go to the extremes for their loved ones, and extremes meant profit.

There was no choice to be had in the matter of being his date, mother dearest had given you a look that said all. If you dared to defy her wishes, she would unleash a torrent of consequences, transforming your life into a living hell until she deemed your lesson learned. While you possessed a certain degree of freedom, there were lines even you dared not cross, and this was one of them.

But Coriolanus made you feel things that you thought you were incapable of, a deep burning rage that whispered at the end of it all one of you would be consumed. You could almost envision the moment when your fury would reach its crescendo, when your teeth would sink into his flesh, consuming him in the flames of your intensity.

As if life couldn't be any more cruel to you, Coriolanus had insisted that you were costumed by his cousin Tigris. Now Tigris was agreeable company, a beacon of kindness and warmth, possessed an innate ability to perceive the good in others. While you found her naivety and idealism somewhat exasperating, you couldn't deny her inherent goodness and her remarkable skill as a seamstress.

Yet, the thought of enduring the tedious process of changing into multiple outfits, each designed to enhance Tigris's artistic vision, threatened to push you to the brink of insanity, a state your mother had succumbed to years ago. The prospect of reliving her descent into madness sent a chill down your spine.

Tigris's fingers trailed along the soft fabric of the gown, carefully adjusting its folds to accentuate the curves of your body. "You know, you've got a really nice figure," she remarked, her voice laced with admiration.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Why thank you, Tigris. If you asked your cousin, he'd tell you I had a body made for the Districts."

Tigris's brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, it's just one of his many ways of insulting me," you explained with a shrug. "He's surprisingly bad at it, considering how much he tries."

As Tigris continued her work, meticulously crafting the gown to perfection, you found yourself enjoying her company more than you had anticipated. Her easygoing nature and engaging conversation provided a welcome distraction from the simmering tension that always seemed to accompany Coriolanus's presence.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to relax, to partially let down the guard you had carefully constructed over the years. You savoured the simple pleasure of Tigris's companionship, cherishing the rare moments of genuine connection in a world that often felt cold and impersonal. Even if it was inside the Snow family penthouse.

The black velvet gown hugged your curves like a second skin. Tigris' skilled hands moved with practised ease, adjusting the intricate details of the dress, ensuring that it would perfectly complement your form.

"I think I'll add a corset effect to this," Tigris mused. "Corio has some cufflinks that were his father’s that would go well with that."

"I am but your humble dress-up doll," you teased, playing along with her lighthearted banter.

Tigris's smile widened, her laughter echoing through the opulent dressing room. "Well then, I'll have to show off my best work for such a famous doll," she declared, her voice filled with playful affection.

The light hearted mood continued for some time, eventually a servant came in to offer you tea. That ended up being your only respite as Tigris then wanted you to try on more gowns for different events. Apparently you had sparked something in her to create various things.

Perched atop a pedestal, clad only in your underwear and an arm across your bare chest, conversation flowed with Tigris, her nimble fingers expertly hemming the length of a shimmering silver gown. Your topics ranged from the latest academy and university gossip to Ma Plinth's overprotective tendencies towards Coriolanus, eventually settling on your father's renowned interior design skills. His contributions to the Capitol's architectural landscape were a source of pride for both of you.

You two had been so lost in conversation you hadn’t heard Coriolanus enter the apartment and calling out for Tigris until he was in the doorframe of the dressing parlour.

“Tigris I need you to fix this stitch on my blazer, it came undone while I was walking over here- oh.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Coriolanus's face, momentarily disrupting his composed demeanour. He seemed momentarily taken aback by the sight of you.

Tigris quickly rose, her hands reaching to cover your exposed form, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Corio!” she stammered, “If you can just leave it on the chair I’ll get to it shortly.”

Coriolanus regained his composure. "No need to rush, Tigris," he spoke smoothly, his voice devoid of any hint of the turmoil that he felt "I just need this done by Tuesday."

He turned his attention to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I should hope that's not what you’re intending to wear to the gala, I think your mother would throw you in the arena herself.”

Without another word, he turned and exited the dressing room, leaving you and Tigris to exchange looks.

___

Coriolanus couldn't shake the image of your back from his mind. The smooth, flawless skin, untouched by blemish or imperfection, is a testament to the care your mother had taken in your upbringing and no doubt the many concoctions she made to keep you that way. The memory of your curves lingered in his thoughts.

He had always held the opinion that your body was more suited to the Districts, a form meant for bearing child after child to provide the Captiol with more luxury. But seeing you laid bare made him reconsider your appeal.

His usual taste in women ran towards the petite, almost painfully thin, figures that could afford to forgo nourishment for the sake of fashion. They were delicate creatures, easily controlled, incapable of challenging his authority. But there was something about you, something that stirred a different kind of desire within him.

Thoughts of you under him shifted, taking on a carnal nature. The dim light in the room seemed to flicker with the intensity of the images playing in Coriolanus's mind.

You under him, tears streaming down your face, but no longer was he choking you. You cried out in pleasure begging him to never stop. Your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, mouth open as you gasped. Neck covered in hit bite marks and hickies that trailed down your chest, heaving with exertion. His hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he thrust again and again, your nails digging into his forearms drawing blood.

You cried so sweetly for him, came undone so well for him. That cunning mind of yours consumed by thoughts of him. He might never figure out how to predict your actions but he could figure out your needs, your desires, what makes you tick. Pull your tongue out between his fingers and spit in your mouth. To turn you on your front and hike your hips up against his own, hands pinned behind your back.

“Corio, what's wrong?”

Coriolanus's mind jolted back to the present, the vivid images from his fantasies dissolving like wisps of smoke. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light of the room once more. Your gentle voice, using his nickname, had pierced through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him back from the precipice of his desires.

"Nothing, I was considering something for the next games," he replied, his voice slightly strained. "I do apologise, Mr. Creed. Innovation is something that weighs on me heavily.”

Mr. Creed chuckled, bassy and thumping. “ No worries my boy, your date was keeping me ample company.”

He watched as the older man's gaze lingered on your figure, a predatory glint in his eyes as it bore into your chest for a second too long.

Disgust churned within him, a visceral reaction to the blatant display of lechery. Mr. Creed's age only served to amplify the repulsiveness of his behaviour, a man old enough to be your father, yet still driven by the primal urges of a rutting animal.

Coriolanus saw through the façade of civility, the veneer of sophistication that Mr. Creed carefully maintained. Behind the polished exterior lurked a man incapable of masking his basest desires, his eyes a window into a mind consumed by lust.

He drew you in closer, feeling the heat of your skin spread against the material of his suit.

“And what company she is.” he placed a kiss on your temple with a chuckle all whistle maintaining eye contact with Mr. Creed. A man's warning not to vye for what was his. “I often say she should host the games instead of designing them.”

“Oh hush! You couldn’t possibly manage without me.”

“Well I’d have your mother.”

You giggled at that, showing that you had one too many fruity cocktails infused with a laughing agent earlier in the night, the light catching in your eyes. He could tell you were loose, more pliable then he had ever seen you. Part of him wondered if it was just all part of the act to you, playing as well behaved for him. The Capitol’s untouchable wild child made compliant in his arms.

Despite the lingering doubt, Coriolanus couldn't deny the allure of your presence. Your laughter, once a source of frustration, now held a captivating charm, and your relaxed attitude was a welcome change from your usual sharp wit and guarded demeanour.

“And with that Mr. Creed, I do think that Y/N and myself should go find Dr. Gaul.”

“Of course Mr. Snow, I look forward to your next presentation.’

Coriolanus pulled you away from the overly perfumed man and out of the garden where you had been. The president’s mansion always had half the party outside in the expansive greenery and the rest on the first floor of the building. He guided you out of the garden, the expansive greenery and lively chatter fading into a distant hum. He led you into a secluded sitting room, its dimly lit interior a stark contrast to the vibrant party outside.

Coriolanus was a man who prized possession, a collector of valuable objects and people alike. He had never been one to share, a feature made even worse after his time in District 12, and the sight of Mr. Creed eyeing his 'toy' had ignited a possessive fire within him.

You were his, he told himself, all the Capitol knew after the revelation of your made up love affair during the 15th games. But, you had made it abundantly clear that you were not his. The ownership did not extend into your life outside of performing in your role for the people of the Capitol and to appease your mother.

It was easy to keep the lines from being blurred normally but since that day in the dressing parlour something snapped within him.

Plopping down on the chaise you sighed heavily. “What crawled up your ass Corio?” To strung out every syllable of his nickname, teasing him.

A sharp exhale and her turned to face you. Watching you reapply your pristine red lipstick.

“Creed is nothing more than a pig, a bloated, self-serving creature who values nothing but his own wealth and power," he growled, his voice laced with venom.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me something I don't know. One of their Avvoxes is like that because Festus saw his father with the girl, and his mother went bat shit.”

“How do you know this?”

You closed your compact with a snap and tucked it back into your clutch alongside your lipstick. "Festus told me," you confessed, a sly grin playing on your lips. "He squeals easily.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Tell me Snow, when did you start to care if some old pervert undressed me mentally.”

“Since your mother made the entire country think we’re in love.”

“But we aren't.”

“No we aren’t,” there was no love between you two “but that means you’re mine as far as he’s concerned. I don’t enjoy anyone coveting what's mine, even if this relationship is just for show.”

“Ah! Of course, there he is, the egotistical and controlling Coriolanus we all know. For a second I thought you might actually hold a shred of care for me.”

You leaned back in the chair, your dress slipping slightly down on your chest furthering the curve of your breast.

He had to admit to himself he was no more animal than Mr. Creed when the slightest slip made his thoughts race. His mind went back to his earlier thoughts now inspired by the room you were in. Bent over the chaise with your lipstick smeared, a litany of stains on his face and collar. He’d hike the skirt of your dress up and pull your top down, leaving your breasts free for him to grab at as he took you from behind, your underwear hanging off just an ankle. Festus or his father would walk in the scene and pale as Coriolanus displayed his ownership of you.

“Seriously Snow what’s wrong with you?” You’ve been distracted all night.” You shifted on the chair grabbing his arm and pulling him down to sit. “I won’t pretend to like you but you’re not yourself.”

His gaze flickered down to your chest before meeting your eyes.

Those eyes had always held the power to see through him, to strip away his carefully constructed exterior and expose the terrified child within, a child haunted by the horrors of the bombings. They roused something deep within him, something he couldn't quite comprehend. He was convinced it was hatred, an intense aversion to everything related to you. Yet, amidst the gaudy extravagance of this opulent sitting room, there was something more than hatred, a yearning, a need to possess you, not just in the pretence of a fabricated relationship, but for real.

“Nothing is wrong.”

"Bullshit," you retorted, your voice firm and unwavering. "You've been distant with me ever since that day in Tigris' dressing parlour. You refused to even acknowledge me the last time I saw you, couldn't even bring yourself to look at me."

He couldn't deny your accusation, for it was true. He had been avoiding you, intentionally keeping his distance, unable to face the tempest of emotions that your presence evoked within him.

"Have you considered that I find you repulsive and even looking at you gives me mental anguish?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, a desperate attempt to deflect the attention away from his own turmoil.

"Okay, jackass," you sighed in exasperation. "I was actually trying to be nice to you here, even considering the possibility of being more amicable in the future, but clearly, that's an impossibility with you."

Standing up from your position, you straightened out your dress, your back turned to him. "I'm going to find my mother and then leave, and I don’t know how we will keep acting like we’re in love in public but we will." you declared, your voice seeming to echo in the room.

Before you could take a step away, Coriolanus' hand wrapped around your wrist. "You're hurting me," you exclaimed, struggling against his hold.

"What do you even want?" you demanded, spinning around to snatch his hand away, only to find yourself pulled down, landing directly into his lap.

You gasped in surprise, your body pressed against his, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through your senses. His eyes, those storm-filled pools, were inches from yours, their intensity almost hypnotic. There was something swirling in them that you had never seen him express before.

“God seriously, what is wrong with you? I don’t know why my mother insists on it being you! You are the most insufferable man I have ever met. Constantly talking down to me and trying to make me feel lesser. You need to sort yourself out.”

Your voice raised, carrying into the hallway where he knew people were. He could hear their steps coming towards the door.

He watched you, his expression unreadable, his fingers still tracing patterns on your waist. It felt so breakable under his touch, like he could squeeze it ever so tightly and it would shatter. Maybe that was what was wrong with him, his image was that of strength and yet you were so fragile.

The reality was much harsher than that. He had never viewed you as a person before that day. You have been an obstacle or a pawn. Now he had to act as he loved you, craved you, desired you. Initially that was a hard ask, your very being was unpleasant to him, but since that day something had shifted in him. You were human now. And far too tempting.

The handle of the door began to turn. The narrative needed to be made, actions taken, you both were here for a purpose tonight.

His lips crashed into yours, more gnashing teeth than the delicate touch of a lover, a show of dominance and control. The frustration of this whole act and his loss of control bubbling to the surface and letting the anger out on you. You tried to pull away, speak to him maybe, but he pulled you back against him and with a hand on the side of your face pushed your jaw open letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. It was wet and messy. His tongue running against the back of your top teeth before dancing with your own. The desire to consume you coming out on top.

“Oh my!”

He pulled away with a bite at your lip, hard enough to leave the both of you tasting blood.

A collection of Coriolanus' classmates from the Academy and a few notable members of high society, including both Festus and his father, stood at the now open french doors taking in the scene before them.

Y/N Gaul draped across Coriolanus Snow’s lap engaged in a hot and steamy makeout session. You intricate updo half udon by his actions, both your breathing labour, red lipstick smudged around both your mouths. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights. You hadn’t heard anyone coming to the room too distracted by Coriolanus’ odd behaviour which was now explained.

Coriolanus instantly snapped into character a charming smile spread across his face as he steadied a hand on your hip.

“My apologies I wasn’t aware anyone would be using this parlour tonight.” He spoke with a lighthearted chuckle. “Miss Gaul was just simply breathtaking this evening.”

Your name brought you back into the moment, the velvet of his voice soothing your panic. You moved to adjust his shirt and blazer back into place, an intimate gesture painting the two of you having a deeper relationship than people initially thought.

“Corio,” you chided gently “I told you that we needed to be careful.”

“You're right my dear. I was overconfident, assuming we had a moment to ourselves. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” He slipped the handkerchief out of his pocket and began cleaning up your ruined lipstick. “Please give us just a minute and we will clear the room for you.”

He finished cleaning you up and then stood, taking your hand in his. Some more apologies were given to the crowd as the two of you absconded away like teenage lovers that had just been caught. A trail of hushed whispers and lingering glances followed you out. You couldn’t catch everything but you heard one thing very clearly.

“Well there goes the gossip that they hate each other.”

#uzuri writes #hunger games imagine #tbosas #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the death of an actor #hunger games smut

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year

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Death in four moves (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Queen Alicent is starting to notice your lack of pregnancy. You discuss it with your husband, and come out a stronger marriage because of it.

A/N: No one dies in this one, guys. Just quoting Tyrion. For a more detailed warning, click read more and scroll until after the dots.

Warnings: Fluff. Discussions of SA, sex, erotic novels, infertility, miscarriages, and pregnancies (None actually happen in the fic)

Catapult /ˈkatəpʌlt/

noun

a forked stick with an elastic band fastened to the two prongs, used by children for shooting small stones.

In Cyvasse, a catapult can take out a dragon.

“It’s the third month you bleed.” Queen Alicent said, with a hint of disapproval. She had perfected just the right amount of passive aggressiveness when being nosy. Your eye twitched slightly. You understood now the resentment Princess Rhaenyra held for her, with your sheets being examined by the Queen daily, your moon’s blood carefully tracked and advised on when the best moment was to conceive. “When will you make me a grandmother?”

You sipped at your tea, buying yourself a few seconds to answer. You were having tea in Haelena’s chambers, a family meeting, if you will. More like an intervention, truly. Alicent sat next to Aegon, who was in his cups already and seemed uncaring about the discussion.

“Mother, you are already a grandmother.” Aemond pointed at the hostess herself, who was on her hands and knees showing a bug to her children. The twins blabbered to her, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the scene. Seated next to Aemond, you gently squeezed his forearm in silent thanks. His lips barely curved up into a smile. Despite his kindness in helping you out, you knew what the Queen’s response would be. It was like you were actors in a well-rehearsed play, one that had been repeating for the past six weeks.

“Yes, but those are your brother’s children. I want you two to make me a grandmother, too.” The Queen explained, smiling at him. The first month, there had been relative peace. Aemond couldn’t have knocked you up that fast, everyone reasoned. Not while still attending to his duties in the way he did. But when the second month came, and the sheets were stained red once more, Alicent had been disappointed.

Being Aemond’s wife was not an easy task. At the rate it was going, you were starting to think it would have been easier, inheritance disputes aside, to be married to Aegon. It was not that Aemond was unkind. On the contrary, he was most amenable. He cared about you, treating you with respect and even making efforts to be friendly. His mother was the problem.

You see, when the time came for Aemond to be married, Queen Alicent had handpicked you, from all the eligible ladies in the realm. The bride for his favorite children had to be perfect. She had had, I kid you not, a list. The girl Aemond married had to be smart, to be able to match him and converse about the topics that interested him, but not too educated, less she had ideas about her role in society. Devout to the Seven, but not superstitious. Brave, but not brazen. Kind, but not overly so, less she was too familiar with those beneath her. Pretty, but not one of those intimidating beauties or too aware of it. A maiden, pure and sweet, but not innocent. And so on, the list went. You weren’t too sure what she had seen in you, but she had decided you were perfect for him.

Aemond, mother’s boy as he was, had been willing to try. And he was pleasantly surprised with you. Yours wasn’t the most passionate of marriages, but you were good friends. He enjoyed your sense of humor, and you two liked the same books. Marriages were built on less. But there was the issue of consummation. Or well. There was no issue, since it hadn’t happened yet.

Neither of you dared tell Alicent that the first night, when you had come to him in your wedding gown, shaking with fear, he had done you the kindness of sitting on the bed with a goblet of wine and pulling out a deck of cards. You remembered clearly the way he had drawled, so effortlessly self-assured “I was uncertain whether you knew how to play Cyvasse, but guessed this was a safe bet.” You had nearly laughed in relief, sitting next to him and explaining you didn’t know how to play it, but cards you could do.

It had gone like that, for three long months. Aemond came to your chambers once a week, and you two played cards or just sat down talking for the whole night. He had even started teaching you Cyvasse. You didn’t mind it. He was an attractive man, your Prince, but you two had been strangers before the wedding. It was sweet, and you were a practical woman. You had all the perks of marrying a prince, and none of the hardships. If this were what your entire life would be like, you could handle it. And you would have, were it not for your mother-in-law.

A knock on the heavy wooden doors jolted you out of your thoughts. The guards announced the Grand Maester.

“Just on time.” Queen Alicent muttered, and became him over with an imperious hand. The old man stepped closer, holding a jar with some dirt? At least to you, it looked like that. The Queen took it from his hands, and opened it, grabbing your tea cup and stirring it into the drink before you could protest.

“Hare liver, pulverized with salmon. I had the maester prepare it for you, dear girl! You will have it at every meal.” Alicent beamed. Your grip on Aemond’s forearm became deathly. Aegon started laughing, before flinching suddenly. You weren’t able to tell if the one who had kicked him under the table had been your husband or your mother-in-law.

“I truly think there is no…” Aemond started to say, before getting interrupted.

“It is said to aid conception.” The Grand Maester bowed. His tone showed he wanted to be anywhere else but here, trapped between Alicent’s hopeful look, Aegon’s amusement and your indignant glare. His urge to leave was evident, not even flinching at the glare Aemond directed him for interrupting.

“Thank you, my Queen.” You answered, graciously. “Thank you as well, Grand Maester.” The man bowed again and exited the room. You eyed your now ruined tea, and Alicent. Her smile didn’t waver. You could tell she was waiting for you to drink it, and so, you smiled back and brought it to your lips.

It had to be the most foul concoction you had ever tasted. It was fishy and oily and oh so salty. You nearly spat it out, but controlled yourself, digging your nails into Aemond’s arm until he squirmed in pain. Aegon laughed again, before nearly choking in his haste to speak.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” While he laughed, you quickly took his cup and intended to drink his wine to get the taste out of your mouth. He made a grab for the wine, but so did Alicent.

“I read wine could harm conception.” She explained, passing it back to Aegon, who gave you a superior smirk.

“Mother, please. She looks like she is about to throw up.” Aemond pleaded and took the cup again. Aegon protested, but he brought the cup to your lips, urging you to drink from it. “Let her have it.”

“Aemond, I’m trying to help you both.” Alicent huffed. You quickly drank, less she tried grabbing the cup again. “We should do all that the books said. I have been reading on the topic, and I assure you…”

“I read…” Aegon interrupted loudly, giving you a wink. You knew he was about to do something disruptive, and that he would hold it over both yours and Aemond’s head for letting you escape. “Female pleasure is of the utmost importance for the woman to fall pregnant. So tell me, brother. Have you been pleasuring our dear…”

“Aegon!” Alicent yelled, slamming a hand over his mouth. “How can you say such things, with your children in the room? By the Seven, what will your brother’s wife think? That we are a family of…”

Aemond grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room.

“You have to tell her.” You said, as soon as you were outside. He was gently pulling you along towards the gardens. “I’m not drinking anymore of that stuff. And careful, or else I will ask her to give you some too.” It had been the last straw. Your sheets being checked, you could take. Her not so subtle nudges towards laying with your husband on certain days, you could too. But being prohibited wine, and forced to take the concoction with every meal, was not something you were willing to do. Not when it was not an issue of fertility, but of the lack of… Intimate relations between you two.

“I don’t want to disappoint her.” It was said quietly, but it broke your heart. You took his hand and squeezed. One of the things you disliked about your new life was the amount of pressure Aemond was under. He had quickly become your best friend, and you liked to think you were his too. It hurt you, to see how much he pushed himself and how the nerves and worries ate him away. You knew perhaps he didn’t return your feelings, which had been steadily growing since the chaste kiss you had shared in the Sept, and all the sleepless nights spent playing games and talking, but you loved him. And it always hurt, when those you loved were in pain.

“I doubt you will. She loves you. Just because you would rather not be a father yet…” You smiled at him, trying to sound sure of yourself. In truth, you knew the Queen would be disappointed. She so wanted Aemond to be a father. He was her favorite. A baby from him would be a dream come true.

“I do want to be a father.” It was said very quietly, almost a confession. You turned towards him, unable to believe your ears. Aemond was pointedly looking towards a bush of roses, not making eye contact. His posture, normally so perfect, was a bit slouched, as if trying to curl into himself. Ashamed. He was no fool, to not be aware of your feelings, so that meant…

“Oh.” You blinked. It felt like something shattered inside you. It was not children he disliked, but you. A few tears sprang to your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined. You wanted him to be happy, even if not with you. Lowering your eyes, so he didn’t see your heartbroken expression, you answered.“Oh. Well. I’m still a maiden. We could ask the High Septon for an annulment.”

Aemond turned to look at you, bewildered. Then, a scowl took over his face, purple eye narrowing in anger.

“Annulment? Why would I want that? Is that what you want, an annulment?” His voice was starting to raise, slightly. You shushed him, frantically. But he kept going, stepping closer, hands grasping roughly at your shoulders. Aemond forced you to look him in the eyes. “You dislike me that much?”

“No. No. But if you are not attracted to me…” A few tears fell down your cheeks. You hated it. You didn’t want him to think you were manipulating him. It was distasteful, your mother had always said. Crying for a man to stay, it was not behavior befitting of you. “A lady should never beg for any man to stay. Not even a Prince.” She had always said, and you tried to live by it. But she had clearly never met Aemond.

Aemond’s lips pursed in the way they did when he was thinking about something deeply. Was he actually considering your offer? The thought made more tears spring to your eyes. He looked torn. So, this was it, you were going back home. Annulment and ruin. No one would believe you a maiden with Alicent’s efforts, with how often Aemond visited your rooms. Who in their right mind would think two young newlyweds were spending their nights playing cards and board games? It stung, to think you had had one job, and you had failed. Bed your husband. Produce children. Any child, not even a boy. It was meant to be easy. You were a failure.

Before your thoughts could spiral even further, towards becoming a Septa and watching the man you loved marry another, Aemond surprised you. With a shaking hand, he brushed your tears away.

“It’s not that, either. I like you. I might even love you.” Aemond’s eye doesn’t meet yours, and it’s only that what halts your heart from roaring in happiness. You frown, rubbing at your temples. A headache is starting. Why must everything be so difficult? He is saying the words you have longed to hear for weeks, yet… Something is off.

“You can say that you don’t like me. It’s alright.” Perhaps it is dishonesty. Perhaps he is only saying it, so you don’t feel bad. Aemond is considerate like that, never wanting to upset your feelings.

Aemond glares, giving you a stern look, as if daring you to try to explain his own feelings to himself. You shrink slightly.

“No. I like you, truly. It’s just that….” He trails off, and you want to scream out in frustration. Your temper is starting to rise, too.

“What? If you are so attracted to me, you should find it easy to bed me.” You spit out, almost daring him to contradict you.

“Nothing is that simple.” Aemond says, rolling his eye. You feel the urge to shake him, but you don’t. You are a Princess now. A Princess would not shake her Prince husband, no matter how foolish he acts. You breathe in, then out. Your response comes out, tersely.

“Love is a simple thing. It’s us who insist on complicating everything.”

“It is not my love for you, what makes me hesitate. First times can be…” And at that, you almost laugh in relief. So, that is what makes him hesitate? Fear of hurting you?

“Painful? I know, but I trust you.” You grab his hands in yours and look up at him, trying to showcase your sincerity. Your eyes are wide and earnest. But Aemond pulls out of your grasp, frustrated.

“'Tis I, who doesn’t trust you.”

You recoil, immediately pulling back. Your mother had always said you were a kind girl if a bit self-centered. And it was showing. You had never thought yourself the source of his worries, or had you ever thought he could think you're capable of hurting him.

“Aemond…” It comes out in a broken little sob. You knew people said things in fits of anger they didn’t mean, but you could tell he meant this. He didn’t trust you with his body.

Aemond tangles his hands in his hair, messing it up.

“Not like that. Just… You come to me pure, but I’m not. I have laid with a woman before.” It only makes you more confused. You are trying not to make assumptions, but it is a strange thing to say. It’s expected, especially for a man of his station. You wouldn’t have dared demand purity from him, in the way men demanded it from their wives. It was natural, even. Your positions in life were different. No one, not even the Queen herself, chided a man for his lack of chastity.

“Alright. I don’t mind it.” You answer, tentatively. You really hope, this time, you get it right. But the silence that follows is defeating.

Aemond’s hands ball into fists by his side. He loosens them, before balling them again. He is trying to hide their trembling from you, you realize. A pit forms in your stomach, knowing that whatever he is about to tell you, it’s bad. Something so terrible it might be better to not even speak it aloud. You have seen this man get into fights with his nephews, spitting out the worst slurs. You have seen him defeated by Ser Criston, beaten up, bruised badly. You have seen him hurt by his father's lack of care, cast aside in favor of others. But never once, never once, shaking in the way he is now. It terrifies you.

You don’t dare touch him, or comfort him in any way, when he is trying to calm down so hard. His breath is shallow, posture hunched, as if trying to fight the instinct to flight.

“It was not a good experience. I… I fear it would be like that, between us, and taint our marriage.” Aemond says, very quietly. His eye looks watery, his mouth set into a grim line. As if about to cry. You can tell, that whatever happened, it was much worse than what he says.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say. It had not crossed your mind, that it wasn’t you what repelled him, but the act itself. You long to hug him, but can tell touch is not what he wants, right now. You remember then, all the times he evaded touches from others, so skillfully. The ducking of an arm when Aegon tries to hug him, turning it into play fighting and roughhousing. How he never initiates affection with the Queen or Haelena. How he has never touched you, apart from a pat on the arm or holding your hand. Or how his palms get so sweaty when he has to do it. How he has not kissed you since your wedding. Perhaps, even the fact that he is always dressed in clothes that cover him completely.

Never having thought about it before, his quirks start to make sense in a way you don’t want them to. It hurts, to think of him being hurt in such a way. It is not something you had thought could happen to a man, but it makes too much sense to ignore. Whatever cloud appears in your eyes, it’s too much for Aemond to handle.

“Oh.” He mocks you, chucking your chin. It’s a gesture meant to put your mind at ease, show you that this is not an unsavable obstacle. You are thankful to him for it, even if it comes at the cost of being the butt of the joke that’s not even funny, much less with the topic you are discussing. But you can pretend for him. You smile, softly.

“Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Perhaps some other day."

Dragon /ˈdraɡ(ə)n/

noun

a mythical monster resembling a giant reptile, sometimes shown as having wings. In European tradition, the dragon is typically fire-breathing and tends to symbolize chaos or evil, whereas in East Asia it is usually a beneficent symbol of fertility, associated with water and the heavens.

In Cyvasse, a dragon can remove elephants from the board.

Aemond pulls down the screen dividing the board. He gives you a smug little look, laying down on the bed only in his sleep shirt. You try hard not to stare, focusing instead on the pieces on the board.

Your catapults are gone, and only your elephants remain. He has captured your King with a Dragon. It’s an odd move. You either are not remembering right or he is cheating.

“That’s cheating! You said the dragon could only move…” You start to complain, frowning at him.

“Diagonally, which is right.” He answers very calmly, looking at you in expectation. You examine the board from all angles, noting that he is right, and he has not cheated. Unless playing with a greatly disadvantaged player is cheating because in that case, Aemond most definitely is.

You take a deep breath and lay down next to him, forgetting the board. Oh, you can feel his pride at having bested you, even without looking at him. And of course, he keeps shifting on the bed, jostling you, lest you forget what you have to do. It’s the customary price, after all. A way to encourage to actually pay attention to his instructions about how the game is played, but also a way for a young couple to start getting to know each other. Your cheeks heat up immediately, when you decide what you will say. You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly and mumble so low, it can barely be heard over the crackling fire that lights up the room.

“Fine. As a young girl, I used to steal my father’s dagger and make other children knights with it. I loved playing Queen.”

Aemond laughs, a deep, sincere laugh. His eye crinkles at the corner, a pair of tiny dimples making themselves known. You like how true laughter lights up his face, you decide. It’s cute, but not something that often happens.

“That must have been adorable, wife.” Aemond smiles at you, boyishly. He is about to tease you, you know it. Your heart melts just a little more. “I apologize for being but a lowly Prince.” You start to laugh, but the laughter dies in your throat with his next words. “Perhaps I can indulge you.”

You rush to correct the treasonous words, scared. Aemond is an ambitious man, you have known that from the start. Just as ambitious as he is dutiful, your husband. But you can’t help but wonder if in this case, ambition outweighs the duty he feels towards his family. You don’t know him enough to make a judgment yet. So very gently, with your pulse ringing loud in your ears, you speak.

“I like Aegon. No matter if he is a drunk fool, sometimes. And your father is pretty boring, but alright. And Princess Rhaenyra." You don't say anything positive about her, not when you had learned through this same technique she had demanded Aemond was punished after losing his eye. If you had a chance, you would strangle her. But only a little. Otherwise, it would be treason, and it would be setting the wrong example. Queen Alicent always told you it was best to lead with your actions, and not only your words.

Aemond smiles, pushing your shoulder lightly.

"Not like that.” He complains, but gives you a long look regardless. You know he has noticed your slip, referring to Rhaenyra as an afterthought and only after Aegon. He knows now, without you having told him, what your thoughts on succession are. He is perceptive like that. “I was thinking more along the lines of crowning you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“You never compete in tourneys, husband.”

“For you, I would. If you wished to be Queen, for you, I would.” And it feels like Aemond is promising something else, something more than just being the one to get a crown of pretty flowers. It scares you a little, to be the focus of such devotion. Such honeyed words, too, which you know are unusual for him. The urge to kiss him is strong, but his confession, a few days backs, still weighs heavily between you too. He has definitely noticed you are more careful with your touches now. Still playful, but giving ample time to pull away. Yet, you can’t leave him hanging either. Not when Aemond is trying so hard for you two to work.

“I would, too. You would look handsome, with a flower’s crown.” And thinking yourself so sly, you slide your hand underneath his, laughing. Aemond laughs too, and pulls you towards him, trying to get you to put your head on his chest. You do so eagerly, listening to his heartbeat. At first, it is rushed, and he remains stiff, despite being the one to initiate the embrace. But slowly, Aemond relaxes and starts carding a hand through your hair. You think it feels much like what heaven must feel like.

The motion lulls you to that state between sleep and consciousness, where your head feels fuzzy and full of cotton, and your movements are sluggish. It feels like a dream, the way the shadows dance on the wall, and how his heart pounds steadily under you. You wish you could sink into him, fuse the two of you, as the Maesters of old said soulmates were. Nestle close to his heart, curl around it with greedy little hands, protect him from the world. Your eyelids drop, despite your fight to stay awake. Aemond smiles down at you, amused, and runs his hand over the slope of your nose, tracing the contours of your face. You scrunch your face at him, about to scold him for disturbing you, when he speaks. At first, it doesn’t make sense to you. And then, you realize.

“I was thirteen. Aegon took me to a brothel. I…” It feels like being stabbed, over and over again, tiny sparks of pain in your chest. In your mind’s eye, you can see him. A slightly younger version of Daeron, perhaps with longer hair. A big, purple eye, the other side of his face freshly scarred. Tiny. Terrified. And that you know because you know his growth spurt didn’t hit until he was fifteen, courtesy of your cyvasse games. You also know he was painfully shy and quiet, the product of a childhood filled with mockery and neglect. That, too, he had shared, after a game you knew Aemond had lost deliberately, feeling you were losing more embarrassing stories than he was sharing. Still, you hadn’t minded.

It hurts to think of your awfully kind husband being taken against his will. You doubt, had you been him, you could have survived it. Being violated so… It aches so bad, tears start filling your eyes. But you do not speak, less you break the spell and Aemond clams back up.

“I… I didn't want you to think I was weak. You are one of the loveliest things I have had, in a long time.” He says, voice breaking slightly. You shift in his grip, and look him right in the eye.

“You are not weak.” You enunciate, clearly and slowly. And you hope your sincerity shines through your eyes because you do believe it. Unable to speak a word, silenced as he was by shame, you think you would have broken much earlier. That Aemond stands, whole, before you and speaks the words aloud after so much time, says leagues about his character.

“I was meant to come out of it a man. It went…wrong.” He tries explaining, but you shake your head.

“You were not in the wrong.” You make a mental note to try to strangle Aegon later. You had known he was a… Interesting character, to say it kindly. But this… This took the cake on reckless, thoughtless behavior. He was at least three years older than Aemond, yet he had not half the sense his brother posses. Perhaps, your husband is better suited to be king. After living three months with the Targaryens, you were starting to doubt their closeness to gods. You stomp down your personal grievances, knowing Aemond needs love, not rage.

“May I hug you?” You ask, softly. Aemond laughs, a little watery, and pulls you on top of him. He hides his face in your hair, sobbing softly. You fantasize of killing half the whores of Flea Bottom, Aegon, Viserys and perhaps Alicent, too. You fall asleep like that, limbs entangled with each other and forgoing your ritual of messing up the room and your appearances. Despite it, the next morning, the maids who find you are more convinced than ever before of your closeness.

Elephant /ˈɛlɪf(ə)nt/

noun

a very large plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to Africa and southern Asia. It is the largest living land animal.

In Cyvasse, each player has multiple elephants.

It takes you a few sleepless nights to try to find a solution to your problem. Despite being praised often for how learned and bright you were, you couldn’t find an answer to your questions. You see, you have always been a planner. You tackled your concerns by doing research about them and then coming up with an action plan. But there was no research to be done here. You had to work with the facts.

You knew Aemond was not willing to confess to his mother. Nor were you about to betray his trust. But she would keep pressuring, for you to fall pregnant. You could buy time, faking an illness or perhaps even a pregnancy followed with a miscarriage. Yet, you had been chosen not only as Aemond’s companion, but to bring the next generation of Targaryens to the world. And both of you wanted children. He was too proud for letting you get pregnant and pass the baby as his own. Not with the situation with his nephews.

So. You were back to square one. You had to find a way for both of you to have children, and not traumatize Aemond about it. And get Alicent off your back. Research. You could do research about how a lady ended up with a child.

You poured long hours over medicine treaties and concluded this: It was not his member that had to go inside you, but his seed. It would also be useful if you broke your maidenhead in some way, less you ended up trying to give birth still a virgin. So, in theory, Aemond didn’t need to enter you. Just collect his seed, and perhaps you could pour it inside you with a jar or something. Still, you put that thought on the back burner, as a plan b. Oftentimes, the best solution was not the most complex one, and so, you had to at least try to perform intimacy with you. But you didn’t want him to suffer, and so, you decided to approach one of your maids about it.

“Dyana.” You said, as the girls were unlacing your gown and unpinning your hair for bed. “Stay.”

It was low, what you were about to do. But you knew of none else who had gone through something similar. Dyana had been appointed as your maid after having the unwelcome attentions of Aegon on her. There was nothing that could be done, not when the King was so ill, Alicent had told you. She wouldn’t subject him to having to pass judgment on his own son, not in his state. And besides, there had been no harm done, with the girl not falling pregnant. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it. Now, it made you sick to think your brother-in-law, who was always supportive of you in front of his mother, could have hurt her in such a way.

Dyana stayed behind, brushing your hair in front of the vanity. The other maids scurried out in a flock of dresses and chatter. You met her eyes through the mirror, in low candlelight. She was the Targaryen kind of pretty, with hair so blonde it almost looked like theirs. Perhaps that had attracted Aegon.

“I understand you were forcefully subjected to Prince Aegon’s… Advances.” You said, once you were alone. Dyana was very tense, obviously reminding the last time she had been alone with a member of the royal family. You decided to spare her the anxiety over what you wanted, if any, to make this shameful act you were committing a bit less traumatizing. “I have questions about it, from woman to woman.”

The brush clattered to the floor. Dyana’s eyes turned from anxious to terrified. She was frozen, unable to bend down and pick it up. You turned in your stool, to reassure her.

“I'm not going to punish you. I don’t want to know about the act, or reprimand you or blame you.”

Dyana bent down to pick up the brush. Her shoulders remained tense.

“I only want to ask a question. And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to… But if you do, I will reward you handsomely.” You tried putting her at ease, using a soft voice. Much like with Aemond, you stuck to not sudden moves and no touching. To show her that you were serious, you pulled a handful of gold dragons, letting them clatter on your vanity’s table, next to the bottles of expensive lotions and perfumes Aemond had bought you. “But my husband can never know. No one can ever know.”

Dyana raised her head at the sound. She looked at the gold, and stood, anxiously wringing her hands together.

“Milady… That’s a lot of gold for a question.” Dayna’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“It’s an important question. It requires utmost secrecy.” You answered, handing her half. “For keeping this conversation private, even if you would rather not answer me.”

Dyana took the gold, quickly hiding it inside her pocket. She seemed to fear you were playing a joke on her and would take the gold away at any time. You didn’t blame her, with how badly she had been treated so far. Keeping her waiting would be even more cruel than what you had already done, and so, you asked.

“How do you trust again, after it?” It was a clumsily worded questions, asked in a rush and in a single breath. It came out more like “Howdoyoutrustagain, after… It.” Not the most dignified wording, either. You were supposed to be eloquent, smart. Yet, you were floundering as an overzealous child.

“I…” She had clearly understood, by the look on her face, but didn’t know what to say. How to approach it. Dayna stepped closer, scrutinizing your face. Searching. But for what?

“How can you lay with a man again?” You repeated, trying to sound a bit more self-assured and narrowing down your line of questioning. You knew she was currently in a relationship with a stable boy. He always picked her up on the nights you and Aemond were supposed to bed each other.

Dayna looked at you, expression doing a full one eighty. Her eyes stopped being frightened and turned sad. One of her hands went again to brush your hair, almost in comfort.

“It is not the same man. And. Um. Never in the same way, my lady. He asks. All the time. And not like…” She trailed off, concerned. You didn’t notice, too busy committing her advice to memory. “My lady, you should really speak to the Queen….”

At those words, your head jerked up. Why did she bring up Alicent? Did she really think you could ask her about intimate relationships? Unless… She thought Aemond was… Oh, by the Seven, that was even worse.

“Aemond is not mistreating me. But my cousin’s husband is. I just don’t know what to tell her, having been so lucky.” You lied, trying to sound as convincing as you could. But you knew she wasn’t believing a word out of your mouth.

“Can they mend things?” Dyana asked, and it was obvious she didn’t buy that you were asking for a friend.

“From what I gather.” You answered, tersely. Of that, you were certain. Aemond liked you enough to at least try. You would consult him first, making sure he was not uncomfortable with the idea, but you knew he felt the grains of sand on both your clocks draining, as you did. Time was something you didn’t have. But Dyana didn’t know any of that. She was asking you, even if covertly, if you thought your husband could not be a brute. It showed, in the way her eyes filled with pity.

“Tell her to ask him to be soft. And… Not that, right away.” Dyana blushed, lowering her eyes in embarrassment. You gave her a puzzled glance, confused. If not intimacy, right away, what did she mean? Kissing? “Go slow, do something else….”

“Like?” You tilted your head to the side, hoping for a clarification.

“Mouth. Fingers.” The girl looked like she was about to hide under the table from embarrassment. And truly, it was a bit strange. An unmarried maid teaching a lady about intimacy.

“Oh.” You frowned. Dayna squeezed your shoulder, with very soft hands. “Thank you.”

King /kɪŋ/

noun

the male ruler of an independent state, especially one who inherits the position by right of birth.

In Cyvasse, the goal is to kill the King.

Your research had led you to A Caution For Young Girls. A popular novel between the common folk and that had costed you great effort to acquire. The plan had included a horse, a chicken, Aegon, and a copy of the Seven Pointed Star you had had to defile. You prayed that the Seven forgave you, both for reading such dirty tales and for destroying a copy of their sacred book to hide the book you were really reading. That day, even Queen Alicent had mistaken your newfound devotion for the Seven for a lady praying for a child and had pointed to you as an example for Aegon. In truth, you had been on your knees before the effigy of the Mother begging for forgiveness, and not a child.

It had been for a better cause, you told yourself. If truly were the gods who gave the Targaryens their right to rule, it meant they were favored among the rest of the men. Surely, finding a way to procure a child to one of the most pious, gentle Princes the realm had to offer justified your actions. Surely, Aemond’s devotion made up for your sins, or at least, the seven prayers you had recited under each of their effigies did. Surely, right?

Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing something bad. Literature is meant to open the mind. That’s why yours and Aemond’s studies had been encouraged from a young age. And the novel had certainly opened your mind to new ways of being intimate. You had no clue there were so many ways one could use their mouth, fingers, and openings. And if you had felt aroused by reading it… Literature was meant to be enjoyed, too.

So, the next time you and Aemond were alone, you said there was something you needed to talk to him about. You brought out your notes, and took the Cyvasse board away from the table, placing your research there instead. Aemond’s eyebrows raised at seeing you pull out such an amount of parchment, yet he said nothing.

“You want to be a father. I want to be a mother. We are married. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I have researched for two possible ways of achieving it. Watch…” You pulled out a diagram, crudely drawn. You grabbed a stick, much like the one your Septa used to teach you when you were a child, and were about to start explaining, when Aemond interrupted.

“Is that supposed to be…” Aemond had the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “A… Um… Is that…?”

“Yes, now shut up. I’m trying to explain my plan.” You answered, not even the slightest bit ashamed. Couldn’t he see you were explaining your research? “You see, we don’t actually need to have any kind of sexual contact for me to fall pregnant. We just need to insert your seed…” It was said in a very clinical manner, but Aemond interrupted, again.

“Wife, I know how conception works.” Now he was fully blushing, and you frowned. It was not your intention to make him uncomfortable, so you decided to go straight to the point.

“Alright, so we will skip that part. Fine. We have two options. You either pleasure yourself and spill in a jar, or we build up to intimacy. I researched the way to make that the least traumatizing for you as possible, too.”

Aemond looked at you, for one long second. The silence stretched, and you worried this was going to end up with losing him in the most painful way you could imagine. Your blooming relationship, dead by your tactless hand. Aemond stared some more, his eye narrowed. Then, he burst out laughing. You felt so embarrassed you hoped the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

The both of you stayed like that. Aemond laughing so hard tears sprang from his eyes, and you, diagram still in hand, with what Aemond would later swear was the cutest pout he had ever seen.

“This has to be both the sweetest and strangest thing someone has ever done for me.” He finally said, drying his tears.

“You are not mad? Or hurt?” You asked, eyeing him a bit suspiciously, but with a smile of your own.

“Come here.” Aemond widened his stance, and you stepped closer, giving in to his unspoken request for you to stand between his parted legs. With a touch so light, it might not even be there, Aemond tilted your head down and kissed you. You felt as if the world stopped, for a minute. The kiss was clumsy, with him sitting and you standing but you could swear it was the kind of kiss the poets wrote about. You let him lead you, reminding Dyana’s advice, and you could feel the way he smiled against your mouth for it.

“I made my decision.” Aemond said, as you pulled away to take some well-needed breaths of air. Your mind felt like mush, with how dizzying the kiss had been. You had not a single clue what he was talking about.

“Huh?”

“We will try to have the children the normal way. I can learn to trust you enough for it.” And it felt like your heart was singing, with how happy you were. You smiled brightly at him. It was an honor that he was willing to trust you that much, that he was willing to try. You knew, were you him, you would have hesitated more. Aemond was a brave man, you had to give it to him.

You wanted to kiss him silly. But you had promised yourself to keep things at his pace, were he to choose this path. And so, you asked.

“Hug?”

Aemond laughed, and pulled you closer, burying his face on your chest. You hugged back, holding him.

“So, what did your research say? About building up intimacy?” Aemond shifted, looking up at you, purple eye shining with mirth. You spluttered, slapping his shoulder. He laughed again. “You know, in all seriousness… The Seven have given me a strange woman. But I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

Detailed warning: Aemond confesses to the reader that the reason they haven’t had sex yet is not a lack of desire but a bit of fear, and describes what happened to him when he was thirteen. The reader does her research and presents it to him, crudely, but he is touched by her gesture.

As a fellow SA survivor, I hope I have managed to portray the struggle to trust a partner again in a manner that is both tasteful and fluffy, with an adequate dose of humor and awkwardness. Writing Honesty raised a few thoughts on the matter of consent in Westeros. I never got to finish GOT because of the same issue. My heart ached for Aemond during the brothel scene, and I wondered about it a lot. I have yet to see it portrayed in any fanfiction. I apologize in advance if it made anyone uncomfortable.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond #fluff #aemond fluff

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super-paper · 4 months

Note

I feel like Toga and All for One have many similarities, but I am unable to articulate as to why I feel this way.

I think it's safe to say that AFO is an intentional foil to Himiko, Tenko, and Touya at this point! I've discussed how he shares body motifs with all three of them before, but his backstory more or less cemented that he's supposed to be read as "the worst possible extreme and the worst possible conclusion" to each of the trio's respective origins and overall stories.

As for how Himiko and AFO foil each other, specifically:

Cannibalism as a metaphor for Not cannibalism

Let's get the obvious point outta the way first, lol.

AFO and Himiko are both established as children that society wasn't prepared or willing to care for-- AFO was born during the advent of quirks where "paranormal" children like him were treated as diseased and shunned (or worse) by the rest of society, while Himiko was born during an "era of peace" where civilians are expected to maintain said peace through endlessly conformity and complacency-- outside of pro-heroism, civilians are essentially expected to role-play as though they've returned to "normalcy" (i.e. pre-quirk society) and the fear of being labeled as "abnormal" (despite living in a post-paranormal society) drives them to shun those who can't easily conform.

Both AFO and Himiko's "first sin" involves the "consumption of their fellow humans," which they both commit when they are too young to fully understand what they're doing-- and both acts of consumption were initially tied to their attempts to fulfill a basic human "need" that wasn't being provided for. Himiko drank the blood of a friend whose smile she envied after years of having her own smile called "creepy," AFO was a starving newborn whose mother couldn't provide him milk or protection and whose cries were ultimately ignored by everyone else. When Himiko takes someone's blood and "becomes someone else", she finally feels good "about herself". When AFO takes his mom's quirk and uses it to drink her blood, he no longer feels hungry and no longer has any reason to cry out for help/attention. Thus, AFO & Himiko ultimately learn and internalize that in order to fulfill their own neglected needs, they need to take from others.

Something something re: "the catharsis that comes with finally """"embracing your true nature'"""" so you can finally become what your family always feared you'd be (POV: you are 14 years old and utterly doomed by the narrative) (and so is the main object of your ""affection"") (puberty is a bitch ain't it!)" something something

To Himiko, the consumption of others becomes a way to "become somebody else"-- someone the world will treat more kindly than they treat "Toga Himiko." She feels the urge to completely drain the blood of anyone who has the life and relationships that she desperately wants for herself. Before that, drinking blood was simply her way of expressing admiration/affection and fell under the banner of MHA's definition of "pure love" (i.e. love as imitation). Himiko showed no inclination towards completely draining the blood of those she loves until her psychotic break with Saito, and she is notably able to restrain her supposed "urges" around the LOV despite loving them deeply. The "urge to drain those she loves completely" isn't actually tied to her quirk, but to her desire to "become someone else."

To AFO, the consumption of others became yet another way to rob them of their autonomy-- by taking away "a part of them" and forcibly turning it into a part himself in the most base, unsettling, and crude way possible. Before that, his consumption of others was simply driven by his instinct to survive. AFO's "urge to take" is tied to the preconception that no one will provide for him or look at him UNLESS he is taking something from them-- like Himiko, his quirk merely makes it easier for him to act on urges that don't actually stem from the quirk itself. AFO's warped perception of other people balloons wildly out of control by the time he reaches his teens, and finally cumulates in him ""eating"" the glowing baby out of jealousy:

*Kills someone over their follower count* Man, AFO is nvr gonna beat the "was a tiktok e-girl in his previous life" allegations

AFO and Himiko both "consume" other people out of jealousy and a desire to make up for what they feel they lack as individuals-- but an important distinction between the two of them, I feel, is that Himiko's consumption of others is ultimately driven by her desire to connect with other people while AFO's consumption is instead based on fear + mistrust of others. It's the difference between "Consumption as wanting to become a part of someone and become a part of the world they live in (+ consumption as a way to become a part of the world by living vicariously through someone else)" and "consumption as forcibly making someone a part of you and forcibly taking away their connection to the world."

Speaking of "consuming someone who has traits you envy in an attempt to make those traits your own" *pointedly looks at AFO's dynamic with Tomura* ...........yearp.

It's only after Himiko's human needs are finally addressed by Ochako, that Himiko learns the desire to "give" rather than take. I feel that this is probably one of the core take aways of the series while more or less being the "end goal" of the OFAFO plot-- "endless giving without ever taking" (All Might becoming the number one hero at the steep price of himself and Izuku almost destroying himself in the process of trying to emulate All Might) and "endless taking without ever giving" (AFO full stop, as well as society itself towards both the heroes and villains) are both extremes that only cause more people to get hurt. There has to be reciprocity. It has to be "One for All -AND- All for One." Give -AND- Take.

Side note: Himiko's favorite food being pomegranates also strikes me as ironic when you remember that Hori is gigantic mythology nerd-- In both art and mythology, it's not uncommon for pomegranates to be used as a visual for "flesh" and for their consumption to be used as a stand in for cannibalism. In greek mythology, pomegranates are known as the "fruit of the dead", and are believed to have originated from the blood of Adonis. There is also the legend of Persephone, who was cursed to remain within the underworld for six months each year as the price for consuming six pomegranate seeds while in hell.

The Buddhist legend of Hairiti/Kishimojin also stands out for framing pomegranates as a "cure" for cannibalism, by offering them to man-eating demons in lieu of flesh:

As for AFO-- it's been pointed out by several different people that he shares several parallels with the greek titan, Cronus, who is most famous for having devoured his own children whole.

With that in mind, I feel like the act of consuming blood has an almost mythological edge to it for these two (outside the obvious reality-based social stigma of it lol)-- the act of "eating" others, regardless of intent, is what condemned both AFO and Himiko to hell. But Himiko is offered a way out of that hell and ultimately finds salvation in allowing herself to be "consumed" in turn, while AFO just doubles down on eating every rando beefcake he can get his hands on while giggling like a school girl (and yet, when the chance to eat Toshi finally presents itself, he totally fails to capitalize on it. mfer can't even "cannibalism as a metaphor freaky gay sex with your dramaturgical foil" right smh 😤).

As an aside, when I say "people generally read into MHA too literally and expect entirely too literal conclusions for what is largely a fantastical story about abuse/trauma/coping mechanisms," how MHA depicts ""cannibalism"" through Himiko is actually one of the examples that comes to mind lol. So many people think that death or jail is the only appropriate conclusion for Himiko's character because it's the "only realistic conclusion" like they aren't reading a story where people have tape dispensers for arms lmfao.

OMNOMNOM-- (On Mouths)

Not much to elaborate on here, mouths (and smiles) are AFO and Himiko's shared body motif in MHA's narrative. AFO's mouth is his only distinguishable facial feature during Parts 1 & 2, Himiko's smile/mouth is her defining feature and how others perceive it is a source of trauma for her. Her villain outfit is notable in how it covers her mouth/hides her smile while also resembling AFO's act 1 mask:

*squish*

During the final war, Himiko puts her mask on and hides her mouth immediately after being rejected by Izuku. This is symbolic of a lot of different things, but mostly, it drives home how she is no longer interested in talking things out and has "fully embraced being a villain." Ochako understands what's at stake and spends the rest of the fight trying to "take the mask back off"-- she understands there is something behind Himiko's villain mask that she needs to save.

Meanwhile, Toshi smashes past AFO's mask during Kamino and finds there is simply nothing underneath it-- reinforcing the idea that AFO has made "being a villain" his entire identity and that there is nothing worth saving behind his mask. However, Toshi was also the one who "smashed" AFO's facial features away in the first place. AFO definitely deserved getting his head popped, but in the context of MHA as a whole, I feel like AFO and Toshi's dynamic only highlights the overall tragedy of the hero/villain system and why it's a good thing that the new generation is starting to challenge it.

It is worth mentioning that mouths are frequently used to mask and dehumanize within the context of MHA's narrative, but this isn't something exclusive to AFO and Himiko ('sup Toshi) (''sup Tomura).

(I don't actually have anything else to add here lol)

Demon Child, Demon Lord

AFO and Himiko also stand out in how they're both framed as having been "born bad"-- Himiko by her parents, AFO by himself and the narration. Discerning readers already know that this is a crock of shit.

Child for One sees the Demon Lord being surrounded by people who provide for him out of fear while he's stuck living in isolation and squalor with Yoichi, and decides the only appropriate reaction to this is to make a children's comic book his entire personality (he's just like me fr)-- He embraces the idea of becoming a demon and shedding off his humanity, and immediately starts self-styling himself off a generic biz-caz corporate shmuck (lmfao).

Unlike AFO, Himiko resists the label of "demon" as much as she can-- she styles herself as "a cute high school girl" despite being a middle school drop out because she realizes the world will treat her a little more kindly this way (but only a little). Himiko longs to be seen as human, but is made to feel like a monster instead.

What I find interesting is that AFO himself outright admits that he lacked the ego/awareness necessary to "consciously" take Yoichi's quirk when they were children-- yet, both he and the narration continuously frame the siphoning of his mother's life, quirk, and Yoichi's nutrients as though they were intentional, malicious acts. AFO leans into this framing and builds his whole identity around it until that framing is finally pulled away from him literal seconds before his death.

Being "human" to Himiko means going back to a time where she was loved and accepted unconditionally. Being "human" to AFO means going back to being that screaming infant who no one would look at.

Like it or not, everyone is human in the end little dude.

Other Miscellaneous Similarities:

This one doesn't require much explanation-- through prioritizing their own needs above all else, AFO and Himiko both dehumanize other people the same way other people dehumanize them. Himiko is still a child, however-- and she is ultimately saved by her desire to be accepted and form genuine connections with others. Her final fight with Ochako is as much about getting Himiko to see Ochako as "human" as it is Ochako acknowledging Himiko's humanity. Once again, it's all about reciprocity/give-and-take.

""join our family and let me raise you! :D *hard cut to a burning orphanage*" AFO being genuinely puzzled that ppl aren't jumping at the chance to raised by him is my favorite running gag in mha.

Both AFO and Himiko also have a habit of being.... inappropriately intimate with other people, often to the point where whatever "relationship" they have with others exists almost entirely in their own head. Himiko calls Tsuyu by her first name and gets told to cut it out because this is a privilege Tsuyu reserves for her friends, and Himiko immediately interprets this as Tsuyu offering to be friends. AFO calls his worshippers his "friends" and his cult "his family" and asks that his young victims call him "uncle" like he's a kindly family friend and not the dude who is blackmailing them into betraying all their friends.

Also, neva 4get.....

To think AFO could have also had fun yuri times if he had just stopped being a dickhead for five seconds. Tragic. 😔

(/j)

#sophie.txt #mha.txt #all for one #toga himiko #thank you for the ask!#threw in some stealth ochako-toshi parallels for good measure bc tbh it makes AFOmight as a ship even funnier #just two guys who fumbled each other so hard it changed the trajectory of the whole story lmfao 😭

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elains · 4 months

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Azriel's association with Enalius, what it means for his arc and Illyria

This is something me and my friends have talked about off tumblr, but I wanted to write my own post about it and gather my thoughts. But here, I'll discuss a bit Azriel's character and how the revelations we witness in House of Flame and Shadow will be important to his character. (+ a little bit of Emerie).

What do we know about Enalius? From ACOSF, Emerie provides us with a little exposition when they are in the Rite, when the Pass of Enalius is brought up:

Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days.

Now, from the Crescent City crossover, we learned that Truth-teller and Gwydion are twin blades. They are a pair. According to the Silene History Lesson, the dagger used to belong to her father's (Fionn's) dear friend, slain during the war. A bit later, when they find Vesperus, she confirms that this friend was Enalius:

The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

Immediately before that, she also confirms that the Asteri crafted (which can either mean created, shaped forged, but we are going with created) the Illyrians:

The Asteri’s blue eyes lowered to the dagger. “You dare draw a weapon before me? Against those who crafted you, soldier, from night and pain?”

From everything, we can conclude this: Enalius was the original wielder of Truth-teller before Fionn and Theia, a dear friend to Fionn, and someone who pulled the ultimate sacrifice to keep the Asteri/Daglan from reaching the top of Ramiel. He was a traitor to the Asteri, a rebel against his masters and everything they stood for.

Enalius is the hero most Illyrians strive to mimic, the legendary figure who they all hope to one day surpass. He's a symbol of their people, even if so much about him has been forgotten — the fact that he had a dagger, Fionn's friendship, what the battle was for, maybe even how he was as a person. Brave, for sure. Willing to die for the cause.

And it's Azriel who bears his dagger. Azriel, who has such a complicated relationship with his Illyrian heritage and loaths it - and by extension, himself - is the one with this enormous legacy right at this hand. And this matters.

Still in ACOSF, we have Rhys talking with Cassian and wanting him to play Courtier, the following exchange then follows:

“What, we’re doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?” “Don’t play stupid,” Rhys said coolly. Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother that the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them.

Azriel hates the Illyrians for what happened to him and his mother and his dislike for them is, to a degree, understandable. The thing is that Azriel, no matter how much he loaths it, is Illyrian. Maybe he's more than that (as it's pointed that Az is different in a lot of ways and Bryce wonders if he is Starborn), but at heart, he's Illyrian. Siphons, leathers, fighting, being Carynthian, his wings, his scabbard and the dagger it holds.

It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.

Being Illyrian is part of who he is and his deep hatred for them only fuel his self-loathing. He would like to set himself apart, but he is not.

We can actually draw a direct parallel between Azriel and Bryce with how they regard the Fae vs the Illyrians. Bryce loathes the Fae and for most of HoFaS, she believes they are evil, corrupt, power-hungry and quite generally, not worth saving. She would leave them all to burn. Sound familiar?

And Bryce is wrong. Sathia challenges her notion, pointing out that she's laying judgement to all fae and that is hardly fair. What the one who don't deserve it? Herself, yes, but Flynn, Declan, and Ruhn himself? Do they deserve to burn too? Bryce herself acknowledges this:

Urd had sent her there to see, even in the small fraction of their world that she’d witnessed, that Fae existed who were kind and brave. She might have had to betray Nesta and Azriel, trick them … but she knew that at their cores, they were good people. The Fae of Midgard were capable of more. Ruhn proved it. Flynn and Dec proved it. Even Sathia proved it, in the short time Bryce had known her.

And this part here sums up quite neatly:

Fire met starlight met shadows, and Bryce loosed herself on the world. It ended today. Here. Now. This had nothing to do with the Asteri, or Midgard. The Fae had festered under leaders like these males, but her people could be so much more.

There are Illyrians who are kind and brave and break the mold. We see this with Emerie, who is also a woman. We see that with Balthazar, Cassian. The main point stands, though, that you cannot judge or condemn an entire race for the bad apples.

Azriel is wrong, just as Bryce was wrong, and his journey will be also to realise that his people are worth saving. They were created of night and pain (words that Azriel embodies, being a master of shadows and a torturer), but that is not everything they need to be. They can be more than soldiers. They can thrive.

And I believe this was something Enalius himself came to the believe, long ago. His people deserved more than to be slaves to the Asteri, forced to give them their power when need be, bred to live and die for them. They could be more. And Enalius died to free his people from their chains.

Is Azriel Enalius's blooded descendant? I'm not sure, but he doesn't need to be. Azriel is Enalius successor because he will finish what was started. He'll uncover the secrets of the past, what his people were in truth, what Enalius rebelled for, what he stood for, what the Blood Rite truly means - which he only got a glimpse of.

And this is where I think Emerie will also come in. She's s one of ACOSF most relevant characters and the first female Illyrian to be Carynthian. I think Emerie will also become an inspirational figure to the Illyrian women, another of these what they coud be. What they can be. And more importantly and that is just a theory, what they were.

Orestes was a warrior. What if so was Carynth and she was woman? The name always struck me as similar to Carina, which is the name of a constellation and commonly used by women. It would be ironic and another shaking revelation to the Illyrians that Carynth, for whom their greatest warriors are named after, was a woman.

Does that mean all Illyrian women must become Valkyries? No, but some might wish to follow this path whilst their society takes its time to catch up. They already shook the status quo and with Nesta poised to have a big role (andthe Valkyries along her), they will continue to do so.

Azriel will uncovered the lost history of Vesperus offered him all the clues he needed to start looking. His journey to find out this secrets will lead to him facing his own demons, confronting his loathing for his people and, in doing so, he will make peace with himself.

#hofas spoilers #azriel #shout out to yaz for helping me fish the quotes #my meta #acotar #acosf #emerie #illyria

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meanbossart · 3 months

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Spicy Asks: The Sequel is here. I'm so, so sorry.

Oh he's a very passive guy, he likes being manhandled around and not having to do much of the work (a bit of a pillow princess one might say). As far as fetishes go, he does have fantasies about group sex and of being roughed up, but I think if put in a situation where he could practice it in a controlled environment he'd be like "EHHHH nevermind actually" and go home very quickly LOL

DU drow would have 100% banged Lae'zel if he hadn't killed her. He couldn't stand her personality but they would have gotten on like two peas in a pod in the sack.

He does find Shadowheart very pretty, but they struck up a friendship so quickly that I don't think he could see her in that way 🤷 but that's still a smash, technically speaking.

Jaheira. Ohhhh Jaheira. As far as general dynamics go she would have been the best choice after Astarion, probably - though there is no way in hell or high heavens that she would have ever let him touch her LOL regardless, DU drow finds her looks and personality to be very attractive.

He's pretty much utterly indifferent to anyone else. Wyll is too idealistic, Gale is Gale, Karlach isn't his type, Halsin gets on his nerves - oh, he WOULD have banged Mizora if he hadn't been heads over heels for Astarion by that point.

The man just likes his femmes I guess LOL

HMMMMMMM yes, but since it's not really a porn fic expect any scenes like that to be in line with what we've had so far, where there's more of a focus on developing character dynamics rather than gratuitousness (I hope I've gotten that across, at least LOL).

LOL, It's ok, it's a ridiculous not-name and I'm so sorry for all the people I have made confused and will continue to confuse because of it.

As for your question, definitely not! I personally like big-bottom/smaller-top scenarios so that's why I focus on it, and I do think character-wise those are the roles they fall into most naturally - but they switch around every so often when the mood strikes and it isn't really a big deal.

Oh are you kidding me? The guy LOVES being cared after in an intimate setting. Being doted on, groomed, checked up on, having his hair played with and clothes fixed up - he doesn't express it outwardly much, but these are all things that make his murderous little heart skip a beat. He was the same way pre-tadpole but it was mostly servants and Sceleritas doing it, so he didn't get much out of the exchange; and Orin didn't entertain this at all, or, if she ever did, it was very, very, very rarely and really just a crumb of intimate affection that he most likely misread anyways.

I'm not sure what to say to this one LOL the penis is full of blood already man I don't think a vampire needs to make it any more tempting to themselves to chomp down.

I wrote a thing about that not too long ago :D ! The answer is complicated but, mostly yes.

Alright you joke, but, if you don't think DU drow hasn't spent a little too long lingering over Astarion's feet and ankles then I got amazing news for you.

I touched on what they generally like on the previous edition of Wine Fuelled Spicy Asks, but as for what they like to do as a couple, it's probably a lot of body worship and some playful denial on both ends. Du drow thinks Astarion is the most elegant and limber thing he's ever seen (and he loves how he smells), and Astarion thinks DU drow's body is an expertly put together murder machine. They have a great time being mutually enamored with each other's (and their own) appearances.

I think they also venture into some blood-play and vapid threats of violence in the future, as a treat, but takes a while for them to trust themselves and each other enough to indulge in that kind of thing.

Needs a little direction, plus you gotta learn to enjoy a bit of teeth and a very slobbery time - also I think he distracts easily, It's nice to have a man who's willing to venture the whole perimeter with his mouth but sometimes you do just want him to stay on the prick. But generally speaking - yes, DU drow gives good head. Fun head, even!

What do you people want from me? Do you want schematics? Diagrams? Do you want me to compare their holes to famous people holes? Do you want me to take out my measuring tape and give you numbers, tell you which kind of produce each of them can fit in there???

One is pink, the other one is brown. One of them just looks normal and the other looks and feels a little like it been around the block a few times. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.

#ask compilation

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mymanyfandomramblings · 7 months

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Mabel's perspective in Sock Opera is equally, if not more sympathetic than Dipper's: An Essay

Most people generally wouldn't consider Mabel to have a terribly sympathetic plotline in Sock Opera, even those of us who don't necessarily feel that she's horribly selfish. I think that's because, from a narrative perspective, her plotline is (as it so often is) shafted in favour of Dipper's, and from a viewer's perspective, Dipper's makes more sense. We, as viewers want to know who the author is. We, as viewers, know that Gabe is inevitably going to turn out to be some variety of impossible, and we know that the Author of the Journals is a major mystery. However, from Mabel's perspective, none of this is true, because she doesn't have the luxury of knowing she is in a TV show. Even if you take out Gabe, her perspective still makes perfect sense.

At the beginning of summer, Dipper found this journal, and Mabel has generally been pretty happy to go along with his adventures as the journal has led them, but it's clear she doesn't have the same degree of fascination with it. Maybe she may have been a little intrigued by who the Author is, she's probably a bit curious, but not to the same extent. By the time of Sock Opera, she's probably reasonably ready for the Journal fixation to be over, considering that they nearly all got killed by a shapeshifter trying to find the author. She knows that trying to investigate the author is dangerous--Stan warned them away from the supernatural, they've all nearly died multiple times, but Dipper cannot be stopped. And now Dipper has decided to spend hours and hours and hours, forgoing sleep, sitting in front of a screen, typing in passwords. The fact that Mabel tries to drag him away from it is a good thing--anyone with a relative who spends excessive amounts of time in front of a computer can tell you that. Generally, having someone close to you become deeply fixated to the point of obsession with anything can be challenging, however in Mabel's case, Dipper has become obsessed to the point of prioritising getting into the laptop above anything, and this isn't just a regular hyperfixation: this is a hyperfixation that has nearly gotten them both (plus their loved ones) nearly killed multiple times in the last few weeks. It's absolutely the responsible, good thing for Mabel to do to not enable that behaviour.

And then if you add the puppet show back into the equation, then yes, it is kind of ridiculous of Mabel to put on a whole show of that kind of magnitude just for a boy (regardless of whether the boy deserves it), however, as viewers we must accept that this is, in fact, thoroughly within character for Mabel, who is kind of ridiculous. Any kind of production of that size is a huge commitment, especially if you've given yourself a week to work, and I'm not remotely bothered by the fact that Mabel has to get everyone involved on this. And to Mabel's credit, she does try to help Dipper as soon as he appears to her in puppet form, she just isn't immediately willing to stop the show. Back in high school, my drama class did a play that I mostly wrote, mostly managed and also had a small acting role in (yes, I was an overachiever in drama), and let me tell you, it would have taken a lot to have gotten me to call off the show halfway through, much less publicly sabotage it. A demon threatening the lives of one of my siblings? Probably yes. That probably would have done it. And Mabel does allow the thing that she poured blood, sweat and tears into to go literally up in flames in front of everyone, once she realises that's what she has to do (and personally, I don't think that there's anything wrong with not immediately being willing to drop everything for this. It's not like Dipper doesn't dig in his heels about doing what's best until the very last possible second). I don't know why people insist it's not 'technically a sacrifice', because while, yes, obviously Dipper's life was more important, and she 100% made the right choice, it's not easy to wreck something you worked hard on in front of people.

All this is to say that although it's easy to become irritated at Mabel during this episode because she's hindering Dipper's ability to figure out who the author is, it's also very easy not to realise that she has a thoroughly reasonable perspective, simply because the narrative puts greater emphasis and attention of Dipper's perspective.

#gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls meta #character analysis #my ramblings

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

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Salvation

Series Masterlist

Kind of a sequel to Say No to Me, but can be read as a standalone fic

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (warnings: mild choking, name calling, Papi kink, Mami kink, handcuffs, crying, spanking, fingering, mild cuckolding kink. Justification of violence and American imperialism?? Idek you guys)

Word count: 5.8k words

Summary: Shaken to his core by witnessing Colonel Carillo shoot a kid, Javier comes home guilty and questioning the role he plays in the war against drugs.

A/N: Say No to Me did soooo well, so I wrote a little more about about Javi and his wife. Hope people like this too 🥺🥺🥺. Warning: The characters’ views on violence and geopolitics are not my own.

“I don’t see the difference.”

“What do you mean you don’t see the difference? Those assholes poison this country, poison the US. We’re trying to stop them.”

It was their first argument. Leave it to him to bring work home and argue about it with the pretty professor he’d been dating. His job was always a point of contention for them. She didn’t care that he flaked out on dates, forgot to turn up for dinner with friends and slinked into bed late at night with no explanation as to where he’d been. No. What she worried about was the fact that he was a man with a gun.

The first time he met her outside the restaurant the both of them frequented, he was on a raid where her friend happened to live. He’d opened a door, gun in hand, just like he opened many other doors in Columbia in his quest for men associated with the Medellin cartel. He’d surveyed the rest of the place like he always did. Behind the woman was her. The beautiful woman he’d been buying buñuelos for at the restaurant like he’d buy a drink for a woman at a bar. The woman who’d smiled at him in a silent thanks each time the waitress brought her the buñuelos he ordered for her. The one who reciprocated by sending him coffee.

She never saw him the same again. She stopped meeting his eyes when before, she’d always looked around for him shyly. She stopped eating at the restaurant, opting instead for takeaways he found her eating in her car. He’d confronted her, sweet-talked her and gotten her to take his buñuelos again. Talked her into having coffee with him every morning and took her back to his place to fuck.

They always wondered out loud to each other what life would be like had he not done that.

“I wouldn’t be picking up dirty socks from all over the apartment.”

“And I wouldn’t find hair clogging the drain. But I would also be perpetually single.”

“And that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Bad thing. No wife to come home to. No one to wake me up with a warm wet mouth around my cock.”

“Jodón!”

“Te amo, Cariño. Eres mi corazón, mi conciencia.”

If he weren’t a married man, he would have driven to the brothel he used to frequent before he decided he would go on a date with her. He’d take the first willing woman he saw and fuck his pain, his frustrations, his failures into her. She’d be nothing but a warm wet thing in which to bury everything for a bit of cash.

Doing that with his wife didn’t take away the pain or the frustration. It produced guilt. Finding hand-shaped bruises and bite marks on her body made her hide her face in his chest to keep her sweet shy smile away from him. But it just made him feel undeserving of her, like he was tainting the one truly good thing in his life with his violence and brutality.

Her black and white perspective on his job changed eventually. Marriage wouldn’t have been possible without it. For the first time, he felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her into marrying him. When it was just coffee and sex, she insisted that he keep his gun and badge away from her sight. They scared her. He felt offended that she wouldn’t accept him whole.

Eventually he stopped hiding work from her. She grew comfortable with his gun on their bedside table along with her pretty night lamp, books, personal diary, jewelry, and framed picture of their wedding at the embassy. She no longer flinched when she wrapped her loving arms around him and found his gun tucked in the back of his jeans.

He changed her, turned her into someone who could casually listen to him vent about the day to day violences of his job. Turned her into a woman who shared a bed with the kind of man who stood by as his colleague put a gun to a kid’s head and pulled the trigger. He wanted to drive off to the closest bar and drink himself to death, but as though on autopilot, he’d already driven himself home. He parked the jeep in the garage, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

What should he have done to stop Carillo? Could he have stopped him at all? It wasn’t as though he knew what the man would do… Or maybe he did. He couldn’t plead innocence over Carillo’s actions when he was the one celebrating his return, knowing fully about his cruel tactics. He sensed something was off when Carillo made those kids kneel on the ground, hands on their heads. Some of them still had baby fat in their cheeks. The Colonel knew what he was going to do. It was why he left Steve behind.

Steve was given immunity from these cruelties. While he’d been a bachelor when he first met Carillo, Steve was always the family man with a pretty wife to go home to. And now a baby. Now, he was also a family man with someone awaiting his return. Did Carillo not know that? Did he not see the glimmering gold band around his finger? Or did Carillo see something in him that indicated he was prepared to witness such horror? Something that said he lacked a heart unlike Steve. How did Carillo manage to go home to his wife and kids? How did he hold them in his bloodied hands?

“Javi?”

She’d opened the jeep door and he hadn’t heard a thing. He was truly out of it.

He whispered her name as she cupped his cheek, taking all the comforts that her touch afforded. He closed his eyes and swallowed as the guilt set in. The kid’s parents would need comfort tonight, not him. He didn’t deserve this. He should pry her hand off of him, reject her gentle touch. Stop her from tainting herself further.

She leaned close to him and he hummed gratefully for the proximity that allowed him to breathe in the fresh scent of her citrusy soap and her coconut shampoo.

He said her name again, like a prayer, like she was his god and he, a devotee who sought her for salvation. “It’s going to be okay, mi amor. Whatever it is…It’s going to be okay.”

“I need you,” he said as he nuzzled into her neck.

“You have me, Javi. I’m right here, whatever you need. Okay?” She swept her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp, already taking care of him.

He hopped out of the car with a renewed energy now that he had her permission. “Need you right here, baby,” he muttered hurriedly and curled an arm around her waist, picking her up and placing her on the hood of the jeep. He tugged at the satin tie holding the robe together, untying it to reveal her in her purest form. No underclothes, no jewelry except her rings, just her. He palmed her shoulders and pushed the garment off of her, holding himself back from ripping it off when she took a few seconds too long to free her arms from the sleeves.

He spread her legs apart, mumbling, “Need to see you, querida. Need to see your pretty pussy.”

He placed a hand on her belly and pushed, forcing her to lie back down on the hood. It had to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think beyond getting his dick wet. She said whatever he needed, so he was going to take whatever he needed. He was going to take everything he could out of her, leave her spent and unable to offer him anything more.

He pushed her legs wider, spreading her out obscenely for his eyes. Her body held marks of their passion. Her knees were bruised from kneeling at his feet and bringing him pleasure with her lips. Bruises of various colors were scattered all over her, tainting the pure smooth skin she brought into their relationship.

She left her marks too. If he looked in the mirror, he would see the crescent shaped scars she’d left behind, some still healing from spilling blood for her. He would find that her name was etched on every scratch and bite she left behind, claiming him as hers and contrasting between the scars he did not ask for, scars he earned chasing sicarios on rooftops.

Javier was marked by all the successes and failures of this perpetual chase of the bad guy. He’d tripped, fallen, jumped from balconies, been shoved into walls, pistol whipped and grazed by bullets.

She’d asked him for one thing only when he was on one knee in front of her— Give me all of you, Javi. So he did. He came home every evening, touched her with hands covered in the blood of the innocent collateral damage in this war.

He bent over her and pressed his chapped lips on her plush ones as his hand found her breasts. She tasted sweet as she always did. There was something beyond the sweet treats she was so fond of. It was just her, just the sweetness of her heart and the kindness of the words uttered by those lips. Once upon a time, she did not like his taste. Their first kiss had her pull away, face scrunched and the lips that’d rejected him complaining about the taste of cigarettes. He used to keep a pack of gum on him at all times- in his pocket, in the glove compartment, on his bedside table, in the living room just to rid himself of the vile taste of his terrible days so he could drink her sweet moans from her lips.

She no longer complained. She’d gotten used to it, had grown to like it even. They didn’t want to waste time washing away the day’s traces before getting lost in each other. They took each other as they were, accepted the ugly and the gruesome, the sweat and the weariness, the mistakes and the guilt.

He released her from the kiss and nudged her chin up by his nose. She whimpered quietly and returned her hand to his shoulders to push his leather jacket off. He helped her out, shrugging the garment off and letting her hands run over his chest with only the thin gray shirt separating them. He nibbled on her chin, reining himself back so as to not bite too hard. She had to be a few orgasms in to enjoy such roughness. He fondled a breast in his hand, pinching his index and middle fingers together to tug at her nipple.

The vibrations of her moan as he kissed down her throat went straight down to his cock. He marked her all the way in his journey from her neck to her cunt. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, suck, nip. Kiss, bite, bite, bite—

Mine, mine, mine.

Fingers found her cunt faster than his lips that were busy marking her as his. He rubbed her with his tainted hand and she raised herself off the hood of his jeep to meet his hand. He pushed her back down and placed a firm hand on her belly, pressing down to send a message.

Stay down. Obey.

She stayed put, taking only what he gave. Slick coated the tip of his finger as he pushed between her pussy lips. “Were you touching yourself before I came home, querida?”

“Yeah,” she managed to voice.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” He asked as he pushed a finger in, roughly and with no mercy. She gasped silently as she squirmed on the metal surface.

“Sorry,” she whined as he found the spot inside her that drove her wild, one that her dainty fingers couldn’t reach. “Papi, ‘m sorr—” she shrieked as he pinched her clit.

“What did I tell you about touching what’s mine?” He asked, getting irrationally angry about her pleasuring herself. Useless. Useless on the job, useless at home. An absent and neglectful husband whose wife had to resort to touching herself.

“That everything that’s yours is mine too.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she recalled the sweet beginnings of their marriage even when spread out in the most vulgar way for him.

“Everything. Except this,” he said, palming her cunt. “Let me just have this. All for myself.”

“So you’ll be a good boy and share everything else? Lend my ass to some other guy, it’ll be f—” she gasped mid-sentence as he grabbed her throat and pulled her up to meet him face-to-face.

“You letting other guys in when I’m not looking, baby?” He asked, applying the slightest pressure around her neck. He knew she would do nothing of that sort. He wouldn’t either. For all his faults as a husband, he was loyal. But they liked pretending sometimes. It played into his insecurities a little, into his fears of being so inadequate for her that she had to look elsewhere. It wasn’t a fear for him sexually. Yet. But it angered him when she asked a colleague to do so much as put up a shelf in their living room. That was his job as her husband.

“Hmm, sorry Papi… He was right there and I really missed you,” she played along as she thumbed his lips.

“Told you you were all mine, baby…” he said, pinching her clit just hard enough to bring her the pain she craved from her. She jumped and wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her feet digging into his back.

“You just told me that just now! How was I supposed to know before this?”

“Put a ring on it, didn’t I?” He said before he took her left hand and thumbed her rings. “I put three on it, in fact. What else is a man supposed to do, hmm? Put a collar on you?”

Her breath hitched, letting him know that she very much liked the image he put in her head. He took it as his cue to continue, “Would you like that? Hmm? I’ll finally make you look like the bitch in heat that you are.” She tightened around his finger and dug her feet into his back harder as though she wanted to pull him closer.

“Hnnngg please!” She whined as she began fucking herself on his middle finger. He added his ring finger, making her fuck herself on the finger that showed the world who he belonged to. Showed the world that he belonged. Showed him he wasn’t a lone man, that there was someone home who gave a fuck. He pressed the pad of his thumb on her clit, circling it gently, barely touching as she used his fingers for his pleasure.

“Javiii!” She cried his name, her voice grabbing at his heart. He belonged. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled her flush against his chest, needing to feel her skin against his.

“Yeah, baby. ‘M here, I’m yours,” he whispered into her neck and sucked on that spot that was bruised from all the times he’d wrapped his lips around it because he knew it made her melt in his arms.

She moaned his name over and over— Javi, Javi, Javiii— and he drank in all of it as he fucked her with his fingers. It grounded him, her moans. Told him she was real, this life they had was real and pushed away the horrors he’d participated in. He was just Javi, her husband Javi who just came home from work and made her scream his name. Not Agent Peña.

“Come for me, Cariño,” he encouraged when he felt her nearing her peak. He continued doing what he was doing, kept up the pace, kissed her neck and squeezed her tits, taking turns between each one when she finally collapsed in his arms, dropping her entire weight on him as she gasped for breaths.

“Want more,” she whined, her voice raspy from screaming his name. She palmed him through his jeans, making him hiss before she moved up to his belt buckle and tugged impatiently. “Want your cock, Papi.”

“Greedy little thing,” he scolded before kissing down her neck. “I just made you come, didn’t I? You’re still shaking but you already want more?”

“Pleeeeease!” She cried, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting her hands roam his chest. “I missed you.”

“Missed me? I fucked you silly in the morning before you went to work. Did you forget?”

“Missed you all day. I thought about it the whole time, thought about your cock.” She said, palming him through his jeans. He managed a smirk, trying his best to not let her know how much her touch affected him already.

“Thought you were more professional than that, bebita. Did you rub one out in the restroom thinking of me? Take a break from teaching to touch this wet little cunt for me, Mami?” He asked as he touched her gently, knowing she was still sensitive from how he played her with his fingers.

She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck, her bashful smile catching his attention before she could hide it away from him. “Can’t disappoint my darling wife, now can I?” He teased, quickly unbuckling his belt and undoing the button and zipper of his jeans to free himself. She reached behind him and squeezed his ass before she grabbed his gun and set it aside on the hood.

The cavalierness of her action struck him. The woman who was frightened by the mere sight of his gun was now handling it casually. If he had noticed it any other day, he would’ve been proud. But not anymore… He had changed from the ambitious fool he used to be in Laredo. And he had changed her.

“Hmm yeah, don’t want your wife letting other men in her ass,” she teased as her hands roved over his torso, the pointed tips of her nails making the hairs on his arm stand up. She reached his dick and wrapped her hand around it when he decided enough was enough. He slapped her hand away, pulled her off the hood and turned her around before pushing her back down face-first. It happened so quickly that she didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

Usually, he felt guilty only after taking his frustrations out on her. Now, he felt the guilt had already begun to surround him, thickening the air he breathed until he felt it was choking him.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, holding her down as he reached into his pocket for his handcuffs. He snapped the cold metal around her wrists and leaned over to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna take you rough, cariño. Can you handle it?” When she nodded, he asked her again, “Will you let me fuck you hard? That’s okay tonight? I need to hear a yes. A clear yes.” The nodding wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t feel right in the head and he needed her to be clear.

“Yes, Javi,” she said, turning a little, her cheek pressed on the hood as she met his eyes. “I want it. I’ll tell you to stop if it gets too much.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he pulled his leather belt off through the loops of his jeans. As the leather cracked in the air, he noticed her ass clench. He grabbed a handful of her behind and let go before swatting the flesh. Mesmerized by the jiggling of her behind, he let her find reprieve for a few second before he repeated the motion for the other cheek. He reduced the gaps between each slap to her ass, enjoying her screams and cries, unbothered about whether they were waking the entire damn neighborhood.

When he felt she was adequately prepared, he folded his belt in two, holding the metal buckle tight in his hand and wrapping the excess leather around his fist to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit her with it. They liked leaving marks on each other, but none that would be as painful and permanent as the damage metal would cause. He reached between her legs and found her pussy, wet from her cum, making her let out the soft sounds he would lock up in the depths of his mind to look back on whenever he missed her.

“Love the pretty sounds you make for me, bebita,” he praised, pleased with himself as he caught her dazed smile. As much as he liked seeing her in the throes of pleasure, he liked it more when he could bring out her sweet smiles. It made him proud, knowing he could do that to her.

“Think you forgot the belt, Papi…” she said softly, her tone contradicting the depraved thing she was requesting.

“So eager,” he mumbled, his words buried by her scream when his belt made contact with her ass. “Quiet, querida. You don’t want to wake our neighbors. Don’t want them to run over here to check on you now, do we? They might accuse me of being an abusive husband and I will be forced to explain that my little pain-slut of a wife begs for this shit.”

She trembled underneath him, holding her hand up to seek comfort. He took her hand glady, entwining their fingers and giving it a kiss before he dropped it back down. She huffed in disappointment, making him feel just a little guilty for taking her comfort away from her. Promising himself that he would give her all the love and affection she needed after this, he slipped his ring finger inside her. He was met with no resistance and he enjoyed how she took him in, enjoyed how she dripped down his finger and coated the gold band with her deliciousness.

“You would like that, won’t you? My little exhibitionist. I knew you were one when you made me finger you in my jeep before I could take you home for a proper fuck,” he reminded her of their first time together, delighted in himself as she tightened around him. He gave her a few quick pumps before withdrawing abruptly to make her taste himself on his fingers. He tightened his grip around the belt and landed another one, the black leather kissing her skin. His hand effectively muffled her scream, but she bit down on him hard, making him hiss.

He fucked her mouth like he fucked her pussy, aloowing himself to be satisfied with how her tongue swirled around his fingers. Forgetting himself, he pressed himself against her ass, grinding to relieve himself just a little. She pushed back at him and he took a step back, realizing what he’d done.

“Mierda!” He cursed. This was not the right time to rub the rough denim of his jeans on her sensitive behind.

“Lo siento, mi amor…” he apologised, bending down to kiss her temple. “Just… can’t wait to have you.”

“Just a— just few more, Javi baby…then— and you can have me,” she breathed out between pants.

“How many more? How many can you take?”

“Four. Each. No breaks, just go. Alternate it.”

“Sí, Mami,” he nodded, taking her command. He crumbled up the soft tie of her robe and pushed it into her mouth before he stood back and took quick aims, raining her with one hit after another.

Her cries and screams were muffled by the cloth he’d shoved in her mouth, but he was certain she would be heard if someone happened to walk by the garage door. While this was a safe neighborhood thanks to it being embassy staff quarters, late night screams were unfortunately not a rare thing for the city. At other times, it chilled him to the bone and made him want to send an armed bodyguard with his precious girl wherever she went. Now, he contented himself with the fact that nobody would come knocking to check on the poor screaming woman.

He pushed his jeans down to his knees and lined himself up with her tight, wet heat before forcing himself in.

“Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” He grunted, alternating each word with a thrust into her pussy. She gripped him so tight, so good, so fucking good.

“Dios mío, Mami. Tan perfecto,” he spewed praises, grabbing her hair with his fingers and giving her a painful tug to force her to show him one half of her face. She was utterly debauched, freshly washed hair all tangled up in his hand, eyes glazed over with everything he gave her, lips bruised and swollen and cheeks covered in her tears. He was sick in the head, he knew that and God, she knew that too. He was a sick fuck, making her cry for him, getting himself harder in her cunt as he watched her spill more tears from his thrusts.

“Lo siento,” he mumbled, still giving her what brought on the tears in the first place. He knew she wanted it, she’d told him so several times, reassured him as she cradled him in her loving arms. She understood him, sometimes more than he did. She knew the depths of his wretched would and found herself a place in it rather than running away screaming.

But that didn’t make him stop apologizing, “Lo siento, Lo siento, por favor… Mi amor, perdóname, por favor—” his words caught in his throat and he let out a sob around her name. He let his tears fall, bent over her and slipped an arm around her shaking body to pull her close to himself. He buried his cries into her neck as his thrusts slipped out of rhythm.

She spat out the cloth that he’d stuffed her mouth. “Javi? Are you okay, baby?”

He shook his head, unable to hide himself from her any longer. “No te merezco,” he whispered.

“Uncuff me. Wanna— need to touch you,” she begged. He snapped her cuffs open, having left it unlocked for her safety. Her hand was on her immediately, comforting him with her touch.

“Javi…I got you, honey. I got you,” she reassured him, taking his hand in hers and giving him a squeeze. He peeked out a little like a frightened yet curious child and caught the gleaming silvery metal of his pistol on the hood. It simply sat there, too close to his wife, not inspiring the fear it should in her. He’d ruined her so much that she could simply have it in her line of vision when she took him.

“Lo sien—”

“Javi, Javi, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, mi amor… It’s alright.”

“Dime que me quieres,” he begged. He needed to know, needed to hear that she still loved him even though he doubted she would if she knew Agent Peña as much as she knew her husband Javi.

“Te quiero, te amo, Javi. Mi amor, mi corazón, mi—” she whined as he unknowingly hit a spot. All these years knowing her and he somehow didn’t know that this did it for her. He repeated the motion, thrusting in the exact same angle with the same vigor that made her cry so sweetly.

The world turned hazy around him and for just that moment, he was just Javi, just her Javi. He belonged to her and the pleasures she brought him, belonged right in her sweet pussy that made his lips moan her name over and over and— He let out sounds he didn’t recognize to be from his throat as she gripped him like a vice and he struggled with the in and out motions, needing to just bury himself in her for eternity and never leave. As though she’d heard his plea, she granted him the high he’d come home craving, pushing him over the edge yet holding onto him, keeping him safe, keeping him hers.

He stayed put even after he’d spilled inside her, needing the closeness, needing to surround himself in all her goodness whether he deserved it or not.

“Javi…What happened, baby?” She asked, caressing his hand with a tenderness that warmed his heart. “What were you apologizing for? What happened?”

He removed himself from her and turned her around to face him. He kept his eyes on the ground as he retrieved the robe that had fallen to the floor. He draped the fabric around her and she stumbled as she took a step ahead. He pulled his jeans up and zipped up before he surveyed her form. She couldn’t walk without limping. Fuck! He was the piece of fucking shit.

He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him on his chin and then on his cheek, keeping her eyes on his as he carried her through the corridors. It was thankfully too late for anyone to be wandering outside.

He laid her out on the couch when they got home, opting to sit on the floor at her feet rather than next to her. She let him place his head on her lap and even massaged his scalp with her caring hand. He shut his eyes and let himself get lost in the feeling, needing the comfort despite being undeserving.

“You were right,” he spoke quietly into the night.

“About what, mi amor?” Another time, he was sure she would have laughed and said she always was.

“When you said you didn’t see a difference. Our first fight. You said you didn’t see the difference between them and us. ‘S bad no matter who does it, the violence. Guns.”

“That was a long— why are we talking about this now? Is that what’s got you so worried? Javi, I didn’t know what I know now. It was a very…reductive way of thinking about it. I told you that much later.”

He felt he’d manipulated her somehow, put the perspective of the bright-eyed young Javier who’d come to Columbia to be ‘the good guy’ who put bad guys in jail and saved the world or whatever the fuck he thought he was going to do. He had done good, sure, but the bad… Oh god the bad.

“Carillo is back.”

“Yeah, you told me…”

“Whenever we go on a fucking operation, the guys we’re trying to nab are always a step ahead of us. Escobar’s got informants everywhere. Kids. Some the size of your nieces. Couple teenagers. Bad situation at home, either they don’t have a choice, or they don’t yet understand what the hell they’re doing… I thought we were just going to scare them. We rounded them up, Carillo was doing the talking. This kid got too mouthy, you know that kind of teenager with the ‘fuck the police’ attitude and enough blind courage fuelled by his newfound independence… It just felt off, baby. I should’ve done something, but— This is how it’s going to go from now on and everyone will turn a blind eye because we’re just that desperate.”

“Javi… Tell me what happened.”

“He shot him,” he managed to say. “Carillo shot the kid. To make a fucking point.”

Her hand stilled in his hair and her eyes widened. “I want to think there’s a difference, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday to see it. Escobar’s using these kids to save his own ass and we’re killing them to send him a fuckin’ message.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

It was a statement, but he replied as though it was a question. “I didn’t pull the trigger.” He was a piece of shit, but he needed her to know that he hadn’t gotten that bad.

“You can’t carry others’ sins on your back, Javi.”

“I was there when—”

“So were the others. And Carillo pulled the trigger. You think he’s at home apologizing to his wife?”

Yeah but you didn’t marry Carillo.

He shook his head and she took his face in her hand, cradling his cheek like he was something precious. “You do what you can, Javi. Your hands are as clean as can be for a DEA Agent. You can’t bear other men’s sins. And you can’t change how entire governments operate.”

“You wouldn’t have said that before.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have. Back then, I didn’t have to stay up all night waiting to hear my husband’s car arrive so that I could run to him and see for myself if he’d come home to me in one piece. I was on the outside before but now I’m in the heart of it, with you. I know you try to shield me from the worst of it. I see how you and Steve whisper about work instead of talking out loud. But I’m not naïve. I know you’re in danger most days and there are some things that you just have to do.”

“I have blood on my hands. I’m not the same man you married. And you’re not the same, I changed you. I made you believe in something I don’t believe in anymore, pulled you into my mess and—”

“It’s okay,” she declared with a quiet smile. “As long as it’s not your heart. As long as you’re not bleeding out on the streets. If you need to get blood on your hands to keep yourself alive out there, I won’t stand in your way. I don’t want you thinking about whether I would approve of the morals of what you did. I don’t care if I change. Change me, get the blood on your hands on mine and I’ll clean you up before I have to send you back out there. I don’t care who has to bleed for you to see another day. I’ll always take the man you are when you come home, no matter how much you have changed. I know in my heart that you’ll never do what Carillo did. I know who I married and it’s not a Carillo.”

She pushed his errant curls out of his face, bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “You are the same man I married. You have heart. And you want to do the right thing. Unfortunately,” she said, taking a deep breath. “There are just some things you can’t control and you just have to let go of it to face the next day. You can’t do that with others’ sins on your shoulders. You know you have enough of your own to lug around.”

She allowed him her comforts, her words and her touch and the warmth of her lap as he put his head down. He wasn’t wholly convinced by her words, but closed his eyes knowing she would be there when he came home. She would have him, broken down and full of guilt. He would come home to her for the rest of time and find salvation in her arms and that would be enough.

Series Masterlist

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stressed-and-queer · 10 months

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Reasons why Merlins s1 ep4 "The Poisoned Chalice" is one of my favorite episodes (spoilers)

Gaius giving Merlin a fake proverb and Merlin calling him out on it

Merlin: "Someone has to keep the place running"

Gaius: 🤨

Merlin gets so excited he gets to go to the ball and it's adorable

The iconic outfit Arthur picks out for him

Gwen teasing him about the hat

Arthur looking back at Merlin clearly amused

The moment "Clara" confirms that Arthur's cup is poisoned he immediately leaves to save Arthur

Arthur keeps on trying to take a sip of the cup thinking the speech is over only to be interrupted again 🤣

Merlin: *Takes Arthur's cup*

Arthur: #annoyed

Uther asks Merlin for proof about his claims about the cup being poisoned and Arthur immediately goes into protective boyfriend mode

Arthur got so worried when Uther decided he would drink the wine

To the point that he tried to drink it himself knowing there was a possibility it was poisoned.

He was literally willing to do that for a servant he met 4 EP ago

Continuing with the point that they met 4 EP ago, they've known each other for like what, a month at the most and Merlin was already willing to die for Arthur

"but if it's poisoned, he'll die :('

Arthur was so fucking worried when Merlin drank the wine, you could tell just by the way he stood

*Dramatic music playing after Merlin drank the wine for a dramatic pause* Merlin: ...It's fine

The fact that the poison took a few moments to kick in. Idk it made it seem more realistic

You cannot convince me Arthur wasn't planning on somehow getting Merlin back from Bayard

When Merlin starts to choke, Arthur's face immediately drops. There's just a look of pure worry and dread

When Merlin falls to the ground unconscious, Arthur is there by his side in a matter of seconds

Arthur didn't even think twice when he picked Merlin up to carry him to Gaius's physician chambers

Arthur asking if Merlin was going to be ok

Gaius explains how to save Merlin, and how dangerous a journey it would be and Arthur is still willing to go to save Merlin

Gaius: A single drip of venom from the Cockatrice would mean certain death

Arthur: Sounds like fun!

Morgana has so much faith that Arthur would save Merlin she wasn't even worried

She relieved Gwen from her duties for the rest of the night so she could take care of Merlin!!!

"I can't stand by and watch him die!"

" Then don't watch"

The ways those lines are delivered are sooooo good omg

The way Arthur leans against the fireplace

Morgana is the one that convinced Arthur to defy his father and save Merlin

Merlin saying a spell in his sleep

And Gaius having to cover for him because Gwen was literally right there

Gaius immediately knows it's Nimue that poisoned the cup when he finds out the poison has been magically enhanced

"He's just a boy"

"Have you seen your son recently?"

Merlin literally moans Arthur's name in his sleep

"Art-Arthur, Arthur...ngh" -Merlin s1 ep4

Even when Merlin is literally dying and unconscious he's still trying to save Arthur

The whole act that Nimue puts on that Arthur falls for instantly

When Arthur flights the Cockatrice with his sword. I love all the fancy movements Bradley had to learn for the role of Arthur

Merlin moaning Arthur's name pt2

Merlin tries to warn Arthur that it's a trap in his sleep

"Who are you!"

"The last face you'll ever see"

Merlin moans Arthurs name pt3

THE BALL OF LIGHT MERLIN CREATES TO HELP ARTHUR

"Do not let Merlin die because of something I did"

Arthur is willing to be put into the stocks for a month if it means Merlin gets the antidote

Arthur reaching for the flower through the bars of his cell

The way they snuck the flower out of the cell

"That's disgusting, you would be ashamed of yourself you're old enough to be her grandfather"

"I'm proud of you Arthur, never forget that"

Arthur went to check in on Merlin to make sure he was doing ok

"Arthur....thank you"

"You too, get some rest"

#spoilers #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #bbc arthur #merlin fandom #s1 ep4 #the poisoned chalice

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jester-lover · 1 year

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I just loved your idea 'Dorm Leaders with a Girlfriend Who Wears Suits', it was so cute, beautiful and wonderful, it would be great to have a sequel. Do you think about continuing? Can I order a sequel please? Please!

Note: I totally understand if you don't want to. Continue to do a wonderful job.

Hi anon! Thank you for your ask! The suit post was my most liked post! I’m very proud of it, and I think it helped me develop my writing style. I’ve been wanting to do a part two recently, so here it is. You didn’t mention what you wanted by saying sequel, and since I personally think the dorm leaders have been already done, I’ll do my favorite group, the first years!!

The First Years with a Girlfriend who wears Suits

Warnings: fluff, stupid gender roles being destroyed, very flustered boys, insecurity (not from the reader), talks of gender roles/identity, whoever reads this is so cool, reader is so hot and confident (did I mention she’s so hot)

Ace Trapolla

Oh wow

No matter how much Ace tends to blab on and on, the moment he sees you for the first time he’s left speechless

He’s never met someone who takes up all the attention of a room in such a short time

Deuce, who’s sorta concerned at this point, pokes him and tells him to stop staring at you

But before his dark haired friend can stop him, ace runs up to you and asks for your number

Congratulations! You now have a little idiot boyfriend who would do anything you tell him to

He’s so obsessed with you his dorm members become a little concerned

Your confidence is so strong, you manage to talk him out of getting into trouble on multiple occasions

He knows your sheer presence captivates the students, so he asks you to be in your best suits for formal events

Pro tip: when you put on your uniform in the morning, ask him to help with your tie. He’ll be super flustered

You managed to make him feel shyer than he’s ever felt, butterflies in his stomach with every smile, slight glance or forehead kiss

He definitely takes you to a formal dance so that you can dip him during the romantic songs

“Y/N, I wonder how you stay so confident, I could never!”

Deuce Spade

I hope you understand that he’s willing to lay down everything for you

You definitely win over his mom, showing up with a bouquet of roses and being ever so polite

He’s so surprised someone so confident and beautiful like you would spend time with a wierdo like him

You quickly quell those feelings, he’s the only guy for you!

You help him fix himself up for special occasions, it always makes him feel special, it makes him feel worthy

Your confidence break’s open a certain floodgate in Deuce, suddenly he’s not as worried about appearing completely and utterly reformed every hour of every day

When he’s alone with you, dress shirts loose and ties loosened, he’s free to be himself

“Today has been so difficult, somehow you make it seem so easy.”

Jack Howl

A confident and strong girlfriend is perfect for Jack

Wolves mate for life, and he is so glad it’s you

You always know how to make him feel special, make him feel like the only guy in the world

His tail is wagging rn

You two tend to scare people together, him being really buff, you looking like a 1940s gangster

He opens up to you quickly, he trusts you more than anything

He definitely gets shy whenever you show up to any sporting event he’s playing in, but he plays better than he ever did

You tend to lead the relationship, often times leading him away to dates, spoiling him with presents

(He’s so househusband material)

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that, you know what you do to me…”

Epel Felmier

He wants to be with you, and he wants to be you

You have a level of courage in whatever you wear, while he’s forced to wear whatever Vil puts on him

Now, perhaps you should use your skills of persuasion to get Vil to allow him more freedom

This boy asks you so many questions

How does he appear masculine without Vil noticing?

How do you pair your ties and socks?

Why does his face get all hot every time you smile at him?

Answer him!!

He finds himself being more comfortable with himself around you, his insecurities of being less masculine go away for a brief second

He can be a man for you, and he doesn’t have to pretend

Epel is most grateful for your advice, a girl like you is hard to find

“I don’t even know where to start! We both radiate manliness right now Y/N!”

Sebek Zigvolt

He immediately deemed you sketchy the first time he saw you

Where you a threat to his Young Master?! He needs to keep a close eye on you!

You keep catching the cute mint haired boy staring at you, so you approach him and ask him why he’s staring

loudly

In front of everyone

He’s outraged! How can you make such a mockery of him? In front of Lilia nonetheless! (Cue Lilia, laughing so hard he’s doubling over)

Taking a pen out of your suit pocket, you scroll your number on his wrist, press a kiss to his cheek and walk away

Now he’s quiet, wondering what just happened

Guess he’s your boyfriend now

He definitely texts you good morning every day, asking what you wish to wear today, just so he can emotionally prepare for the fashion he’s about to see

He’ll never say in out loud, but the 70s era suits are his favorite thing you wear

Emotionally constipated crocodile boy has no clue what to do with himself

This one time he caught you without a suit jacket, your dress shirt untucked, just lounging on one of the shabby ramshackle sofas, you looked absolutely stunning, and he just stood there with his jaw open

“HUMAN! W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST SITTING THERE!? YOU’RE ABOUT TO MISS MY DUEL WITH SILVER!”

A sequel was never really in the cards tbh, but i read the request and this came to me. If you ever notice how extensively I write for Sebek, it’s because he’s my favorite hehe. Dialogue is my weak point. Thank you for reading!!!❤️

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valentinedaughtler · 7 months

Text

Tainted Opal-

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

PART 1

A/N: This is a series I have posted on a few other platforms.

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You are a a seductress who owns a large stolen jewelry business in Ketterdam. You approach Kaz for assistance after your business partner steals all of your money and your poison ring.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

1 - A ‘tell’ in poker

I found myself not being cornered, but on the opposite end of such a relationship.

The dark alleys of Ketterdam are for the faint of heart to be victim, but I had played that role too many times to repeat such. Instead, the Bastard of the Barrel stood before me, scrappier and more daunting than I had expected. Though, all I had to go off of were the blackened whispers of Ketterdam's constant voices.

As usual, I observed my surroundings, the alleyway in which I stand in became a map in my mind.

The silence was thicker than the fog of the docks, fear was beginning to pool like bile in my throat. Maybe this was a mistake.

"My apologies for cornering you in an alley, Mr. Brekker," my voice melted the silence like hot honey. Years of practice in my field allowed for faking demeanors to be easy. "I want to offer you a job," I cock my eyebrow slightly and saunter my way towards him.

He had a piercing stare stabbing my insides and twisting my flesh in odd ways. Showing weakness is an option that leads to downfall, I remind myself when I notice my faltering confidence.

"What job are you proposing?" He asks tersely. Tapping his cane between us, an invisible boundary being made. I cleared my throat, "one week ago, to the dot I might add, my partner went missing," I explained. "My business

partner, Arx Dam-Tres, and his wife were spotted at the nearby port, boarding a privately owned boat. Along with his dear darling, Rasmine, he took our shared wealth and my most prized ring-"

"What makes this ring so important? You're obviously willing to risk your life cornering me in an alley to retrieve it." He interrupts me. I peer at the many hiding spaces the dark night offers Ketterdam's voices. I've been told of Kaz's crow, Inej, I assume she wields her knife atop a building above me. The barrel of a gun glints in the moonlight. It comes from a window on the right, barely noticeable, but the one holding the trigger was slightly sloppy in their hiding.

"I'm aware that I have multiple threats to my flesh at all sides at the moment, so I'll get to the point. I'll pay 1 million kruge... upfront," I propose, smirking. Kaz shows the slightest hint of interest, I note that when he is intrigued, he right eyebrow raises and his lip twitches. 'A tell in poker' they call it. While dollar signs replace the pupils of Kaz's eyes, his lips part once more.

"For a price like that, this must be dangeruous. What makes this ring so special?" he rasps. His voice is rough, like coffee grounds thrown into a fire, adorned with an accent. The ignition of such flames sparked something inside me, but I ignore it promptly.

"Well, the ring was created by a fabricator and a shadow summoner," my eyes fall to one of my fingers where the ring should be. "The gold is valuable, but the real worth is on the opal stone hugged by said gold. It is infused with merzoft," I continue, noticing a slight flinch in Kaz when I state such. It's so difficult to tell what he is thinking, but I'm well known for my keen eye. "When the desire strikes me, it will poison those who kiss my ringed hand. I'm a seductress, it comes in handy." I let out a soft, sweet laugh. "My company is owned jointly between Arx and I, a luxury jewelry company of sorts... my products must come from somewhere," I say, shrugging at my implication.

"Why would Arx take the ring?"

"He knew the value, I assume, or Rasmine begged for it-..." my eyes widened as the realization fabricated its of in my mind, my faux demeanor cracking. "He's sailing to Ravka..., he boarded a ship with his wife and millions of kruge," I piece the puzzle together in a mess of words. "He is going to the Darkling, in hopes to learn he properties of the ring.... He won't stop there, Arx is going to make weaponry this way." A growing horror sprouts up in my stomach and wraps itself around my intestines like thorny vines. My panicked voice squeaks out, "I will pay you now, come with me, and we must leave tomorrow morning, I have a boat prepared. We need a crew-"

My frantic string of a tangent is snipped by Kaz's husky voice, "I haven't agreed to this yet." I notice he is getting the upper hand as my confidence is peeling like wallpaper. I calm my nerves, melding my personality back into what it was before.

"Arx had a good connection with your dear friend Pekka...," I cooed, regaining my former composure. His pupils dilate, the wall he built as a shield crumbles, but only for a split second. "You can finally get your revenge, little crow," I break the boundary he made with his cane, moving closer to him. "1 million kruge, a boat, and revenge," I whisper, "sounds like a fantastic reward."

Kaz walks backwards fluidly, his lanky body shrinking away from me. His jaw clenches as he grips his cane tighter. His knuckles must have turned white under those gloves.

"You bring all the kruge in cash here at midnight...,"

I smiled at a turned away, disappearing into the night, my heartbeat meshing with the countless others taking up borrowed space in the darkness of Ketterdam.

_________________

Word count: 919

_________________

Thank you everyone for reading, first chapters are frustrating to write due to their need for a hook, but also a yearn for explanation. It'll get better from here.

-Valentine

#kaz brekker #soc #six of crows #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #fem reader #shadow and bone #fanfic #opalring #matthias helvar #nina zenik #wylan van eck #ketterdam #seductress

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thecleverqueer · 9 months

Text

Y’all.

The point of the Clone Wars flashback in the Ahsoka series was partially fan service. Yes. But, those of you that are mad that Obi-Wan and Cody and Waxer and Boil and Mace Windu and Ursa Wren and Gar Saxon and Maul and Bo-Katan Kryze and Rook Cast weren’t in it missed the whole goddamned point of the flashback, so let me explain:

Everyone has bitched tirelessly about Ahsoka being stoic and reserved and “not like herself” (I will die on the “she’s in her forties…leave my baby girl alone… she’s tired, sore and premenopausal…” hill, still…)

Ultimately, she’s been “out of character” because she was carrying all of the Anakin trauma around like a two hundred pound weight on her shoulders. She blamed herself, and she feared who she was so much so that she was unwilling to get close to others and spread the wisdom that the years have afforded her…something a Jedi just does. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Enter this sequence… the moment she FINALLY lets go of the Anakin guilt/ hang ups.

I knew something like this was coming. Some moment that changed her back to the more recognizable Ahsoka. The one that embraced her friends. The one that was willing to share the lessons that she learned with others. The one that would have loved to have a padawan of her own. The one that wasn’t always running away, being flaky.

This was it. And, there were two big takeaways from the moment.

1.) Anakin was always Vader, and Vader was always Anakin… and she had nothing to do with that. Her leaving the order played literally no role. It wasn’t on her. It never was. He was already teetering on that line way before she entered his life. I mean, he slaughtered an entire village of Tuskens down to the last woman and child. He said and did questionable shit to Ahsoka herself too throughout their time together. Was he like a brother to her? Sure. Was he borderline abusive at times? Also, yes. Regardless, her eyes were opened in that first battle…where he basically told her to fight or die. Fair, under the circumstances… still, Ahsoka was trained to be a Jedi, not a murderer. Anakin relished in it. She didn’t really, especially when it came to losing her own men in battle. The clones were her friends, her brothers. Anakin didn’t seem to give a shit about the clones. Unsurprising.

2.) She realized that it wasn’t just Anakin’s legacy that she would carry on. She has her own legacy. It doesn’t have to be one of death and destruction. Is Ahsoka a lot like Anakin? Yes. She’s impulsive, hot-headed, stubborn, emotional, and intense, but that’s not all. Ahsoka is caring, patient, understanding, and loving in a compassionate sense. She’s grown wise, strong and sage. Anakin isn’t the only part of her line and that legacy… Obi-Wan is a part. Qui-Gon is a part. Yoda is a part. Ahsoka is a little bit of all of them. It made her realize that she’s so much more than just a warrior. She’s a great Jedi like the ones that came before her. Inevitably, she has a choice. She can choose not to serve the dark, despite it being part of that legacy, and she can pass on what she has learned without fear.

The moment was about just that. It wasn’t meant to actually be an episode of The Clone Wars. The flashback served a very specific purpose as laid out above. There are 133 episodes of The Clone Wars if you want to watch a Clone Wars episode with all the characters of the Clone Wars. This moment was about Ahsoka overcoming her guilt and fear caused by Anakin becoming what he became so that Ahsoka could actually embrace who she is. Specifically.

Now we have a happy, more well-rounded, Gandalf-like Ahsoka that has slayed her Balrog. Now we get to see her be the Jedi she has always been inside. Now we will see her be there for her friends. Now we will see her mentor and share her wisdom and teach the ways of the ones that came before her without fear.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #the clone wars #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #pro jedi #anakin skywalker #shadow warrior #because some of you missed the whole ass point #battle of ryloth #siege of mandalore #ahsoka the white

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artist-issues · 4 months

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On the Percy Jackson series, now that the season has concluded, do you have any thoughts on it, whether standalone or as an adaptation, about what worked and didn't work in it? I ask partly because I want to analyse it as its own thing but I can't stop getting hung up on the changes and I'm not completely sure why.

Of all things, Gabe is the big one for me. They turned him from a repulsive abuser to a pathetic manchild who lacks the power dynamic of his book counterpart and was so consistently treated as comic relief that I actually pitied him. The fact that he shares the fate of his book counterpart actually kind of angers me and it's hard for me to look past that. It left a mean-spirited taste in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve talked enough about what did work, and I do think there’s a place for talking about that, so I’m glad you asked!

I think Walker Scobell could play a really excellent Percy Jackson. And I think Leah Jeffries and Aryan Simhadri are both very endearing in their roles.

I’m not going to throw shade on 14 year-old actors and actresses. There’s no shade to throw. Acting is vulnerability combined with introspection and understanding. No teenager is going to have the same level of vulnerability, understanding, and introspection, expressed with the same skill, as we’re used to seeing in adults, period. And the show doesn’t do them any favors by giving them very adult lines and very adult-behaving characters to play.

Which segues nicely into—the character’s “arcs” are completely different in the show, but they feel more like…”alternate universe” characters than “out-of-character-rewrites.” For the most part.

I already touched on how Grover is a completely different Grover in the TV show. His fear is both too serious and not extreme enough. He’s not comedic. Instead, he is a voice of reason, and he does have a maturity the other two don’t have. He’s written to talk to the other adults differently than Percy and Annabeth are—more like equals, less like teen-vs-adults. You can easily believe that Grover is a 24 year-old in a kid’s body during those scenes, like the ones with Ares.

But there’s a reason he’s not like that in the Percy Jackson books; he’s comedic, and he’s Percy’s best friend. Percy’s only 12 when they meet; it’s weird for a 12 year-old to be best friends with a 24 year-old—who BEHAVES like a 35 year-old, with all the gravity, and maturity, etc. But if the 24 year-old is a magical creature who, for his species, is still pretty young, and has a comedically immature personality, then the chemistry works much better. Anyway. Not my point.

My point is, Grover might not be Grover, but you can still see trace elements of Grover in him. Like how you can see echoes of Spider-Man in Spider-Gwen’s story. It’s an alternate-universe, not a do-over.

Grover still wants to be a seeker.

Grover still feels guilty about not taking better care of Thalia.

Grover still gets the most outraged and cares the most deeply about nature and crimes against nature.

Grover is still a peace-lover at heart, so he’s the most gentle in relational interactions.

‘That kind of stuff is still there. It’s just re-contextualized and…made less fun. That’s all. More serious. More grit.

Same thing with Annabeth:

Annabeth still wants to prove she’s the best of the best.

Annabeth’s still given up on her normal family and is most comfortable in life-or-death strategizing.

Annabeth’s still smart, but specifically wise enough to notice Percy’s heart of gold while everyone else is busy being afraid of or disappointed in him.

Same thing with Percy:

Percy still has the stubborn rebelliousness we all know and love.

Percy’s still a guy who goes with his gut first and foremost.

Percy’s still willing to sacrifice the future for the present, if the present means saving the people he loves.

Percy still makes wise-cracks at wildly inappropriate times.

And I think some of the show is really well written. Some of it. Two parts in particular stand out. The first is when Annabeth and Percy have the post-killing Medusa conversation, and they have that, “she tried to get me to betray you. What did you say? I killed her sister. What did you say? I cut off her head.” exchange. That’s great. The point of that conversation is “you can trust me because no matter how I might be tempted, this is the line I won’t cross.” But they don’t come out and say that. They have the characters say it without saying it, if that makes sense.

The second bit of good writing that comes into my brain was Luke’s conversation with Percy about being small and scary. It was such a good way to introduce the important concept of why gods need demigods/why gods fear demigods, while also lore-dropping things like “Annabeth is afraid of spiders” and “this fantasy world does have rules.” And on top of those boxes getting checked, you can also see the conversation from Luke’s point of view—he’s bitter about being thought of as a small thing to the gods, but now he’s starting to embrace the scariness part.

So some moments are good, writing-wise. Especially if you tilt your head and say “this is an alternate universe.” I just think they’re not always the right moments for Percy Jackson.

#Percy Jackson #Luke castellan #Annabeth chase #pjo #pjo series #percy series #Percy Jackson and the lightning thief #pjo tv show #Disney+#Rick Riordan #Walker Scobell

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amostexcellentblog · 9 months

Text

The Hangman's Guide to Winning Over Your Disapproving Admiral-In-Law

Step 3: Never, Ever, Let Him See You Cry

(Part 1 and Part 2)

Maverick: ...and the doctor says it's a miracle he survived at all. Jesus, it should've been me. The Darkstar was my project, I was the test pilot for all the earlier models, but I wanted him there with me, and I wanted to show that I trusted him.

Iceman: He chose this life, he knew the risks. We have to accept that Mav... But damnit it's easier said than done.

Hangman: *Shouts getting louder as he approaches* Rooster! ROOSTER! *Stops in the doorway, out of breath, still in a flight suit* Oh, Bradley... *Walks to his bedside* What.. Is he... Will he be okay?

Maverick: It's hard to say. The doctors say they've done all they can do, at this point it's largely psychological. If the spirit is willing he'll wake up within the next few days and he'll survive, get better and live out his life. But if he doesn't wake up then his body will start to shut down and eventually... They say the odds are 50/50, but I don't know.

Iceman: The thing is, even if he wakes up the doctors are sure he'll never walk again. Everything he's ever wanted, gone just like that, his career as a pilot, the navy, his engagement. How could he possibly want to wake up to all that?

Hangman: Engagement? What, you think he won't want me anymore just because he can't walk? Well tough luck Bradshaw because I ain't goin' nowhere! You tried to get out of this before during the uranium mission and I put a stop to it then too. You're never getting rid of me Bradshaw! Even if I have to steal your wheelchair and tie you to the bed! *Wipes the first tears from his eyes*

Hangman: Speaking of beds, remember we were looking at houses and I wanted that 5th floor walkup because you could see the ocean, but you wanted that 1-story bungalow because it had a yard? Well I guess you went and made that decision for me, you sneaky son of a bitch! But if you wake up, I'll forgive you. I'll even build you a ramp to the front door, and a deck out back so you can sit and enjoy that backyard you wanted so much. Course, I'll have to learn about carpentry and power tools first, but how hard can it be?

Hangman: Hmm... What else can I bribe you with? Ooh, if you wake up we'll have a fun new role playing opportunity. We can pretend we're in Coming Home and you'll be Jon Voight and I'll be Jane Fonda. Unless you wanted to try it the other way, but I don't know how well that will work... *Choked sob*

Hangman: I'm runnin' out of things to say here, Bradley. I guess the real reason you need to wake up is that I love you. I love those hick shirts you wear and the way you always have them buttoned wrong. Look like a giraffe, and I love you. I love how you can only play three songs on the piano, one of which is chopsticks, but whenever you see one you swagger over to it like you're Mozart, and I love the way you blush right up over your ears. I love you because you don't know how to kiss, always shoving your tongue down my throat like you have to map every inch of it because this might be your last chance. You jerk!

Hangman: I love you. Please wake up. I love the life we've had together, but I'm a selfish prick who wants more. Please wake up. I'll love the future life we'll make together and I promise I'll do everything I can to make you love it too... Please wake up Bradley... Please... I love you... Plea... *Breaks down in tears*

Iceman: Jake, my bubbe, when she was married back in Poland she wore a lace veil she'd commissioned from the finest lacemaker in Paris. When the war came and they had to sell everything they had to raise the funds to get out of the country, it was the only thing she kept from her old life. When her son got married, she gave it to my mother to wear as a welcome-to-the-family present. For our wedding, Maverick wore it wrapped around his arm. When you and Bradley get married, I'd like you to wear it.

Hangman:

Hangman: Thank you sir, I'd be honored.

#icemav #hangster #jake seresin #tom iceman kazansky #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #Just to clarify Bradley does wake up #Was gonna have him do it at the end but it was getting pretty melodramatic as it was #Jake's “I love you” speech was inspired by Ball of Fire #this whole set up seems familiar but I can't remember if I borrowed it from something else #oh well

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alannybunnue · 2 years

Text

Ok, Imagine: Daemon and Rhaenyra having a bastard child in Yan!HOTD AU

I always like to start these posts blaming someone for my crazy ideas, but today is not @missglaskin 's fault, it's you @rosaryos, you did this to me...keep going.

T.W: The entire plot of HOTD with spoilers and maybe some other things, like, seriously, it's the Targaryens.

〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓

Prologue:

So we all know what happened in episode 4, Rhaenyra and Daemon almost committed Society crimes(You know what i mean) and did it on that brothel, but then Daemon back away and left like a b*tch. But what if he didn't?

And once they were done, Rhaenyra being a young horny soul still went for that Cole stick. Just to keep things as they were in the plot.

And then all the drama happen, including Rhaenyra and Laenor's marriage, but we all know they never consummated because of fruit preferences-

And then 9 months later, Rhaenyra gives birth to a baby girl with silver hair and violet eyes that shine. Of course, she knows it's not Laenor's, much less Criston's...it had be Daemon's.

But she let it aside to avoid drama, specially after the birth of the boys.

No one questioned your legitimacy, since there's no proof of Rhaenyra being with Daemon and you had all the Targaryen features...even if your grandfather likes to say that you have Laenor's nose.

You are the realms delight (taking your mother's title) and the heir to the Iron Throne after your mother. Everyone adores you and it's already considered a crime to make you sad, not gonna lie, you use that to your own advantage.

Your mother and "father" both are proud of you, you are the role model for every girl in the realm, the kind and polite princess...when they are looking, in reality, you could incinerate the Red Keep if you wanted.

Viserys is the funny proud grandfather, he liked to watch you playing around as you grow, it kinda reminded him of Rhaenyra when she was your age. But you way more gracious.

Jacaerys is the brother who is always willing to protect from everyone and everything, even a frickin spider, puts you on a pedestal and will fight anyone who dares to take you away. Now Lucerys is the type to gain your affection by pretending to be hurt, since he's the youngest of the bunch. They both are pretty possessive, like your mother.

Even if you don't look nothing alike, you never brought this up, like it never bothered you. Even if Alicent brought it up a few times behind your mother's back.

Speaking of Alicent, she and her kids adore you. Alicent takes on a motherly role with you, while Helaena, who is the closest girl to your age, is more of a sister, who you like to hear rambling about her insects and still tries to understand some of the things she says. Now Aegon has always being a creep, and his special likeness on you doesn't change that, but he doesn't too far by his mother's warning(She knows her son and his tendencies), as for Aemond...do you know those childhood crushes that you idolize and all? That's him (Don't worry, it's gonna get worse).

As the boys all are pretty competitive, specially when you watch them spar along side your grandfather. They look forward to you admiring them and saying how well they went.

But in reality, you wanted to be there with them. You always wanted to learn how to fight too. But the adults were completely against this, scared that you would get hurt, but isn't that the point on learning?

Either way, you suppress this by watching the boys spar instead (with Aegon being a fckin show off)

Sir Harwin is also very protective of you, not just because he is fcking protective of your mother as well, but he views you as his own daughter, like the boys.

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Episode 6:

You were with your brothers and Sir Harwin when Laenor and Rhaenyra arrive with baby Joffrey, while he seemed a bit agitated, just until you got closer to see him, then he immediately stopped and remained calm. You looked at him more clearly, he was just like Jace and Luke, so you knew that he wasn't Laenor (None of you are anyway-) so you feared on how people were going to discuss more about the legitimacy of your brothers and judge your mother, you can't handle the drama.

Then Luke and Jace are sended to the Dragon Pit, you don't go after them, for you don't have a dragon of your own, since the egg never hatched. Which made you jealous of your siblings.

But there was someone who could understand your frustrations, Aemond, who also doesn't have a dragon, but different from you, he's constantly picked on by his and your brothers(But they would never make fun of you though, that would be a sin at this point-).

Before he was brought to his mother, Aemond went to you for confort after the boys gave him a pig, and boy YOU WERE ANGRY, sure, they did many things before, but you developed a strong bond with Aemond at this point and this more than insulting.

You knew it was Jace's idea, you made sure he realized how he messed up. And he did apologized(To you, not Aemond-) But he knows you wouldn't forget what he did so soon, and you might not speak to him for the rest of the day, the same for Luke.

You didn't even look at Aegon, and that made the boy confused as hell, until he realized that you weren't talking to your brothers as well.

Again, you were watching the boys spar with your grandfather, as he commented on how this could created a bond between them, and as much as you admired his perspective, you weren't clueless enough to believe that would happen.

You also were aware of Sir Criston's favoritism towards Aegon and Aemond, dedicating himself to teach the two better then with your brothers. But you never understood why.

And things just got worse when Sir Harwin punched Sir Criston. all because of the stupid comment he made, you watched as the guards dragged Harwin away from your brother's instructor.

You worried for your mother right away.

At the small council, Rhaenyra tries to calm the conflict between her and Alicent by betroth Jace to Helaena, but her offer was striked back by Alicent, who instead offered to marry you to Aegon.

There was 15 seconds of silent before both left the room, Rhaenyra out of disgust and Alicent out of shame. Both knew of Aegon's tendencies, Alicent more than Rhaenyra. So only the Gods would know what he could do to you if you were to marry. Even Viserys pointed that it wasn't a wise offer from Alicent later on.

Soon, Harwin had to leave to Harrenhal, he came to say goodbye to you and your family. You were sad to know this, Harwin was a good man and a good paternal figure to the boys. He bid his goodbye to you all and left right away.

That encouraged Rhaenyra to leave King's Landing to Dragon Stone immediately. Before you went away, however, you met up with Aemond and Helaena to say goodbye, only getting to exchange looks with Aegon as you crossed paths. You did noticed his disappointment and mad look.

Now in Dragon Stone, things might be less chaotic, of course, that's until you received the news. Harwin Strong died in a fire on Harrenhal and Laena Velaryon, your father's sister, died after a failing on giving birth.

Gods be good.

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Episode 7:

It was a bright day, but sad and filled with grief, as Laena's funeral started. You never knew her personally, nor did you knew her family. You only heard about them from your parents, as you watched the coffin being thrown into the water, you noticed the looks of others at you. But only one intrigued you, Daemon Targaryen, your grandfather's brother and Laena's husband.

Daemon was conflicted, not just because of what happened, but at this new discovery of his, as he watched you approach him to give your condolences, he noticed your features. You were not too far from Rhaenyra's oldest son in age, but you looked nothing like him. And Daemon never heard of of Rhaenyra having a daughter.

You spend the rest of the day trying to confort Laena's daughters, Baela and Rhaena. You could understand a bit of how they felt, as you viewed Harwin as family, but you couldn't attend his funeral, as your mother pointed that it wouldn't be proper.

You also tried to talk to the others, your grandfather, Alicent (And you did noticed clubfoot looking at her, but didn't questioned), Aegon and Aemond(which you discovered of Aegon's engagement to Helaena, poor girl)

At their conversation, Daemon asked about you, demanding to know whether you were his and why Rhaenyra never told him. Your mother simply said that due to him abandoning her for Laena, she didn't bother him with this information. The argument continued until one thing let another and everyone knows how this ended (Two horni mfs)

You couldn't help but feel betrayed, he was the only one who understood you and now, he goes and steals a dragon that wasn't his to claim to just rub it on your face?

At night, you were awakened by Baela, who told that someone stoled Vaghar, Laena's dragon. You immediately went after them to find Aemond, declaring that he claimed the old dragon.

Soon there was a fight, and you did your best to stop it before it got messy. But the boys shoved you on the ground and keep fighting. Right after, you heard Aemond calling your brothers "bastards" and you saw Luke cutting his face.

You were all taken away by the guards. And as the maester took care of Aemond's face, you hugged your brothers. Unlike them, you luckily just had a few scratches.

Soon the adults arrived, your mother went straight to check on you, Jace and Luke. As the maester announced the Aemond lost his eye forever, you felt a bit guilty, but you couldn't deny that he was at fault.

Alicent demanded justice, and Viserys denied it, the whole argument was a pain to be heard, you only focused on your brothers, as Daemon and Rhaenyra guarded you three. And then Alicent tried to attack Lucerys, you blocked him while your mother held the Queen, which resulted in her being cut.

You stayed at your mother's side as the maester treated her wound and your brother's. Laenor finally showed up and regretful, apologized deeply for leaving you all when you needed him.

...and then he died.

The news striked you hard, he was your father...at least he raised you, you lost a lot in less then a week. But you kept your composure, for your mother decided to marry Daemon right after, and you were a witness together with your siblings.

After that, Rhaenyra sat you down and told you the truth, about Daemon being your true father and you were technically a bastard, not anymore, since they got married.

Now your life was turning upside down and it was just the beginning

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A/N: Thanks for reading, i wrote this out of distraction, for i will be posting less now due to my studies, but i am not going anywhere.

#house of the dragon #hotd yandere #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #yandere x reader #platonic #for now

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namorthesubmariner · 2 years

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Namor & Talokan

So these are my thoughts upon watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever twice now.

I loved Namor. I truly feel they captured the characterization so well in so many ways and it’s amazing how good of a job they did in this movie, how Tenoch owns that role, how perfect everything is. This is what it means to adapt a character, changing things but keeping the essence of the character and tbh the changes were such a great choice because in the end it served to enhance the character and bring him to new audiences and fans to enjoy and he is still NAMOR. So many people complaining about how bad it is they stripped Namor of everything obviously think that Namor begins and ends with Atlantis and know nothing of his character.

The overarching theme of Mothers, and their children, Namor & Fen, Shuri & Ramonda, play a central role amidst all the grief of the past/losing someone. Colonization is the enemy, not Namor who was just Wakanda’s antagonist.

Talokan mirrors Wakanda but asks the question: What if Colonization had won, what happens to the survivors who escaped? Wakanda never had to deal with the Invasion of their homeland, while Talokan did.

In the comics Namor is often the “Voice of Reason” when placed within a group dynamic, such as the Illuminati, it’s Namor who points out their plans are stupid or finds the most straightforward path to his goals, he is a very honest character and doesn’t hold back his words/thoughts. So it makes sense that just as Coogler holds up Talokan to mirror Wakanda so he would hold Namor up as a mirror to Shuri and gives her the option that others in Wakanda could not, to take on the world and give into those feelings of Rage. Ramonda (and by extension Wakanda) wants Shuri to grieve properly in a healthy and begin to move on with her life, which Shuri cannot do because in part she blames herself for not being able to save T’Challa. Survivors guilt is strong within her even though she really couldn’t do anything but that’s how guilt works. Which plays off really well because Coogler wasn’t afraid to let Namor be exactly like his comic counterpart and follow through on his word/promises even if that meant he was going to do things no Morally White/Good aka Hero character would do, since Namor is a Morally Grey character he has the space to make and follow through on choices he finds benefits himself and his people.

Spoilers beneath the cut, so this is your warning.

While Namor is much older and had time to rule over his people and deal with the grief of losing his mother for hundreds of years he chose Rage & Vengeance as his crutch to get through losing her. He focuses his anger on the world. He isn’t wrong, the Spanish Colonizers are the root cause for all the evil done to him and his people and by extension the surface world. Namor is a Hero to his people and he is their Protector. Which means he will be viewed as an enemy of the surface world. Namor was superhero comics first anti-hero and Tenoch!Namor is the same.

As a general overview before I get into details, Namor’s arc is very complete. His goal was an alliance with Wakanda, he makes it clear the first time he comes to ask them for help because Namor does not ask for help, not in the comics, not unless he trusts that person or is willing to trust that person. Namor + Trust is a very important trait. Listen if you think Namor couldn’t find the scientist and kill Riri where she stood on his own than you don’t know how capable Namor is. He and his people are not primitive/lacking of skills or smarts, he doesn’t need Wakanda’s help but he recognizes it would be smarter in the long run to have an ally that would empathize with him and his people. He chooses Wakanda because its the Nation his mother told him about, and he recognizes that they and Talokan are both very similar. Namora and Attuma were literally using a hunting trick for Riri, have someone else draw her out into the open before taking them down. Why else would they have been waiting close enough to take Riri if Namor had asked the Wakandans to bring her to him? If Namor had truly trusted them to find AND bring Riri to him he would have waited instead he had a back up plan which were Attuma and Namora. Namor’s trust of the surface, even Wakanda only goes so far.

Let me get into details. You don’t know how much it’s killing me to not have pics to go along with my text but I will have to wait till the movie is out on dvd to be able to gif/screencap everything.

I’m starting off with character design first:

Wings.

His wings are AMAZING. There was no easy Superman gliding and swooping here! His air walking was astounding, at times it felt like he had to really push himself to get up to a certain height level like a bird putting more effort into its wings getting off the ground vs catching a air current. He was so agile and FAST, turning on a whim and aware of his surroundings, honestly some parts felt like he was just swimming or dancing through the air, the way he twists his body/hips to change positions. I am so happy they included the wings because it’s so important to his character.

His wings flap rapidly like a hummingbird, and it’s always been one of my personal headcanons that’s how Namor’s wings move and it was really cool to see! There’s a sound you hear when his wings move, like a rattlesnake/buzzing, I think its because he is called K’uk’ulkan, Feather Serpent God, so that rattlesnake buzzing is a nod to the serpent aspect of that.

Edit: AresisKander on Twitter added this comment after reading this post and I am including their comment:

About the sound of the wings or when he flies, I think the reference is to the ayoyotes or chachayotes many people in Mexico still use to do/reenact traditional dancing

A photo of Ayoyotes.

/End Edit.

I did some searching online today to try and figure out what bird/feather pattern they modeled Namor’s wings off of because in the movie it’s not pure white wings and had some light patterns of grey/light brown with the white. I think its modeled after the Osprey (Pandion Haliaetus).

The parts I’ve highlight here are what stood out to me the most in the movie, the tops of his wings had the same white feathery look and his lower feathers had that pattern. The bird makes sense for Namor as the Osprey is found near rivers/bodies of water and is a fish eating bird of prey, with excellent eyesight to see underwater to hunt their fish. They are excellent divers too.

Tenoch’s ears were so cute, and while Namor has pointed ears, the rest of his people do not, so some people like Namora, use jewelry to give themselves the pointed ears like Namor, others use jewelry on the outside of their ear to mimic the pointed ear shape.

GILLS.

THE TALOKANIL (or is it Talokaneil?) HAVE GILLS. I AM SO HAPPY THEY KEPT THAT FROM THE COMICS!!! The Gills have always set Marvel’s Atlanteans apart from DC, and even Namor has gills in the comics even though artists forget to draw it but it was an important plot point in a couple of comics. Seeing their water masks covered not just their mouth/nose but also the gills on their necks was so cool. I can’t wait until high res stills come out so I can show you all how cool their costumes were! the gill masks were soooo pretty!!! There is just so much detail on their look/costumes/mayan influences that I can’t do it justice with words but it was beautiful, Namora had a few outfit changes through the movie which I loved.

Speaking of Namora, she was not at all like her comic counterpart and like I guessed before she is basically a mix of Namora and Andromeda. It makes sense why they wouldn’t use the character Andormeda since she is Attuma’s daughter in the comics so they wouldn’t have time to explain why his daughter is the same age as him etc. since comic atlanteans are long lived and look the same ageish. Andromeda operates as Namor’s right hand woman, the captain of his guards/army, a highly respected close friend and long time ally who would always fight beside Namor and offer advice.

Namora is smart, loyal, and such a badass in the movie. Mabel played her beautifully and I adored her. Anyways I loved this interpretation of Namora and I hope we get to see more of her and Attuma. Attuma’s character does not get alot of lines, we have no clue to his motivations and if he hates Namor or not like in the comics, in the comics they were enemies, but the recent King in Black: Namor tells the story of Attuma’s origin and friendship with Namor before it all went bad.

Namora, Attuma, and Namor all wear different outfits throughout the movie. The character designs were brilliant, and the costumes were gorgeous, so I really hope they win an award for that again.

It also feels like they each have an “Avatar” of sorts. Namor is the Feathered Serpent, Attuma is a Shark, and Namora is a Lion Fish, remember the Lion Fish is a deadly venomous creature so those spines Namora wears are a warning threat to her enemies.

The Plot

I will be focused on the Namor/Talokan plot mainly.

The first scene we get with Namor is literally ripped from the pages of Marvel Comics (1939) #1. In the comic, two divers go exploring a ship and Namor darts by too fast for them. Later Namor cuts the lines of one diver killing him, then goes after the second diver.

In the movie the divers are sent to check on a drill in the ocean, it had struck vibranium, which the Americans were after since they had a Vibranium detection machine. Namor swims by too fast for them to see, they are too focused on their find, however one diver’s life support signal stops, when the scientist lady on the ship asks the second diver to turn around to check on her partner and see if he was ok, she turns only to find cut life support lines. Namor comes for her next. I want to say very quickly that while Vibranium was included in the backstory/plot of the movie it also has it’s roots in the comics but only since the 90s:

Golden age - two divers on an exploratory mission - Marvel Comics (1939) #1 Silver age - expanded: two divers were sent there because the captain of the ship was Captain Leonard McKenzie on his return to the Antarctic waters after decades to search for Fen. The Sub-Mariner (1968) #44 Modern Age - The original cause of two ships coming to Antarctica is because the first one (The Endurance) was on a mission to find Vibranium, while the second one {The Oracle, Namor’s father’s ship) was on a mission to find The Endurance. Namor, the Sub-Mariner (1990) #52

So as you can see they just cut off the Leonard part since Fen’s origins have changed as well, and they kept the scene from the first comic and their motivation is Vibranium. There was a very Depths!Namor vibe to the character which I adored because Sub-Mariner: The Depths is such a good comic.

Meanwhile above there is a siren song luring the crew to their deaths in the sea. I loved the Sirens, they are a highlight of the Talokanil. The ship is now under attack by the Talokanil, and the scientist lady escapes into a helicopter. Attuma and Namora arrivals are great! The Talokanil are efficient at their tasks.

Namora watches as the helicopter goes higher into the sky but doesn’t do anything because she knows Namor will stop them. The first scene showing Namor’s full strength is amazing, it cannot be understated how Namor is a Power in the comics, he is literally called a one man navy. Namor is the guy the other characters call in when they need the Big Guns. He wrecks that helicopter and the scene ends with a visual of Namor hover over the sea in the dark, it really reminds me of this visual.

Marvel Fanfare (1982) #16

So as you see Namor has been called Devil, Sea Devil, Sea Demon in the comics which makes the Spanish Priest’s words to a young Namor really hit home because humans have always viewed him as something not human, evil, and otherworldly even though they themselves are not good people.

The next time we see Namor he is rising out of the water in Wakanda to speak with Ramonda and Shuri, he carries with him a shell, a conch shell, which in can be symbolic of a declaration of war or something else depending on the context as written here and here by Aztec Empire on twitter. The soundtrack to Namor’s arrival is freaking awesome, and Namor’s first show of pure astonishment/wonder at Wakanda is so endearing. Alot of people complained about this online saying he wouldn’t do that, but the truth is Namor does know how to smile, he loves the wonder and beauty of Nature, he isn’t a scowling angry fish man all the time. Tenoch’s micro expressions are amazing, he goes from wonder to being a Threat in the space of seconds. What I really like is how he captured Namor’s humor which is not an easy thing to do since in the comics Namor has a very dry gallows humor that makes people around him think its very serious but he’s actually telling the joke more to himself than for the benefit of others. Namor says “- I took care of it” meaning he totally killed all those people but he’s acting like it was nothing more than a small chore or something. lol. Also there is something else I wanted to point out about the beginning of this scene, Ramonda and Shuri are alerted by elephants who sensed Namor and ran, in the comics when Namor is running amok in New York for the first time he releases several wild creature from the zoo, which also had elephants. Now I don’t know if that was in reference to that scene in Marvel Mystery Comics (1939) #8 but it did remind me of it.

And as stated earlier, Namor was willing to extend his trust but still Attuma and Namora followed Shuri and Okoye in the later scenes.

MCU!Attuma is strong and a capable warrior, I greatly enjoyed him baiting Okoye on the bridge into a fight. The way he looks at Riri (whom Namora told him to kill) and decides she isn’t going anywhere so he might as well have a fight for fun with Okoye was Peak Character for him. Namora is annoyed and snaps at him to stop playing around. I love their dynamic with Attuma playing the Strong Muscle character and Namora though tiny was clearly in charge. Both of them have consistent characterizations, both are very loyal to Talokan and they get stuff done. Attuma is 100% ready to kill Riri and so is Namora. They are looking out for the future of their people. BUT when Shuri asks them to take them to Talokan alive they confer with each other, they treat Shuri like the royalty she is and they take her wish seriously since they also know Namor wants an alliance with Wakanda. If Namor had ordered them to kill the scientist at all costs, I don’t doubt they would have been done there on the bridge.

When Shuri and Riri are in Talokan, Shuri is treated as according to her social status, a Princess, with all the respect given to her from one Nation to another which really stood out to me. They give her traditional clothing, and they aren’t unknind, they care for Riri and give her food while Shuri goes to speak with Namor. I’m just pointing out that Coogler isn’t depicting the Talokanil as some hostile people who are unreasonable in wanting to kill Riri, they are only hostile when the safety of their people is in question.

The biggest change I would say character wise in regards of the transition from the Atlanteans to the Talokanil is that the Atlanteans actively hated and looked down on Namor for being half human/atlantean, its a major source of isolation for Namor. Namor’s character is rooted in his biracialness, is rooted in being a man of two worlds without fitting into either world and struggling with his two people. Changes seem to have taken away that biracial aspect in the form of two different races of human/atlantean since it seems Namor is a full Mayan/Talokan now however it doesn’t mean it’s lost, Namor is never a part of the Talokanil proper, he is respect and revered yes but also set apart in isolation because of his slowed aging meaning he would outlive all of his people, and that he is seen as their deity. When Shuri meets Namor he is open and honest with her. He RESPECTS her in a way the Elders of her people didn’t, because they saw her as a child. He respects her because she is a Princess and because Namor respects women. I know there is alot of bad Fanon out there regarding Namor’s treatment of women in the comics but as a person who has read all of his comics, so much of it comes down to out of context weird fanon and also some moments of really bad writing however Comic!Namor was raised by his single mother Fen and has great respect for women, so of course Namor would respect Shuri and treat her in accordance with her social stature.

I’ve already begun to see NamorShuri shipping discourse so let be preface this by saying I literally do not care. I don’t care what people ship. However this meta is my, a comic fan’s, thoughts on Namor’s character and the rest of the movie, and I would appreciate it if people don’t use my words out of context nor they drag me into any shipping wars. Once one of my other metas was used out of context to promote racism and I don’t appreciate that. Also I personally believe that shipping is not the end of all things. I believe shipping is a fun addition to the source BUT it’s NOT the end all reason behind character’s actions. So people saying Namor was totally hitting on Shuri, or flirting with her, or whatever, that’s fun fanon for you but I personally do not see it that way.

Namor is charismatic in the comics and Tenoch!Namor captures Namor’s charisma, anger, sorrow, and light heartedness but most of all he captures Namor’s loneliness. When Namor opens up to Shuri and tells her the story of his people, of his mother, he is trying to find a connection, some empathy, a friend.

Princess Fen and her people.

They don’t say Fen is royalty or some high ranking woman in their Nation, however they don’t not say that either. Until we get more information about her then I will only speak on what I saw. Fen and her people are suffering from smallpox brought over by the Spanish Invaders, her people are dying, and she is pregnant. We see Fen place a stone, a funeral rite, into the mouth of a dead man who was placed in a dug grave, he had already passed. The unnamed man died of smallpox, and I personally believe this could have been Namor’s father but also it simply could have been a person who was her family/friend/she had some connection to since we aren’t exactly sure who he was. In the comics Fen is the most beautiful Atlantean ever, and I love the actress they chose for Fen, Maria’s beauty takes my breath away to be honest. In the comics Fen meets Namor’s father after she was sent to spy on the Americans and she falls in love with him. She is strong, smart, and fierce princess of her people. I have very strong feelings about Fen as she is one of my favorite characters.

The Shaman creates the potion/serum they drink to turn into water breathers/Talokanil, however Fen hesitates because her concern is her child. The Shaman promises her that this will save her child and her and then swears that her son will be their new king since he will be the first born of their new people. This new backstory for Namor fits the tone of the movie. I loved both Fen and the Shaman, their actors were so good.

Fen being a central character in Namor’s life is so important and I’m really glad that the movie didn’t skip over that. Fen is a guiding force, the reason why Namor is the way he is in the comics, her love and protection, even her naming him “Namor” which in the comics/atlantean it means “Avenging Son” all shaped Namor into the character he is. Fen and Namor are so important to me.

Namor speaks about how he grew up slowly and his mother aged normally, and how for her death she wanted to be buried in her homeland on the surface. Namor carries out his mother’s wishes. Fen in the comics is also buried in her homeland in the antarctic waters of her youth.

Now. This scene. The Child without Love. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I have not been able to stop thinking about this since.

Namor is the AVENGING SON, he gets his identity from his mother. When I learned she wouldn’t be naming him that I was honestly very upset because its so central to who Namor is, but then I saw the adapted scene and I feel it works in this context. In the comics his name is a warning to the surface world/white people who hurt his people in the original comics. In the movie the name was bestowed upon him by a Spanish Priest who calls him a devil after Namor saw their evil and punished them for it. Namor wears his name as a promise to his people and a threat to his enemies,“My enemies call me Namor”.

Honestly the burial of Fen was so sad, Namor even places a stone in her mouth as well. She missed her home and wanted to be returned there. This really speaks to me about immigration and displacement, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my own family members, the older ones, who don’t live in the homeland anymore talk about how they must be buried there. I think its something that only people who leave their homeland (not out of choice but a need for a place that will be better for lives because their home isn’t safe or they have better opportunities in foreign land) can really understand that no matter how far away they are, the need to return there, be buried there for the rest of time is a such a human need. The themes of immigration/displacement/colonization is prevalent throughout their story.

In the comics Namor’s first motivation is to wage war against the surface (white) people who hurt his people and he does cause a ruckus but then he faces the true Evil of Humanity when he finds out about the Nazis, he fights alongside the humans to stop them in WWll because he knew that they would come after his people next.

In the movie, the Evil of Humanity is the Spanish Colonizers. There is no romanticized version of this, there is no Spanish colonizer myth of them being benevolent people bringing advancement to the Natives. They are shown in their full evil glory as colonizers who hurt, killed, and destroyed Nations of Native people. This is the first time Namor sees humans, and its the worst they have to show.

When Nakia is searching for Namor/a way to find Shuri and Riri, she speaks to an old woman who tells her where Namor was sighted, and how he returns, and those who go after him with ill in their hearts do not return. So it means Namor is standing on a beach, returning over the years, because there is only one thing that would bring him to the surface world, his mother’s grave. Namor was visiting Fen’s grave in her ancestral lands.

The Sub-Mariner (1968) #17

Namor’s core character is that he is a hero to his people, and their protector, which the movie displayed so accurately. After the story of his people’s origins, Namor takes Shuri on a tour of his capital city. Another time one of his jokes comes into play, he is telling her all the ways her body would die under the deep water, and then goes “We have suits!” he neglects to mention its the SAME suits that he had taken from the scientists he had killed in the beginning of the movie! lmao. I love him. I really love this character even more now even though I’ve been such a huge fan of Namor for years.

Talokan’s Capital City is so pretty. I can’t wait to zoom in on all the details.

I honestly wish I could get my hands on that 400 page Talokan design book of it’s history/lore. I wish I had better pictures of the stone ring in which Namor does the Rising Sun hand gesture to activate the water currents that take them from the cave to the capital city. It’s clear the Talokans have advanced science/machines which they use all the time, and how they harrassed the power of undersea vibrainum like the Wakandans. Namor even says “I brought my people the sun”. I know there is like 30 minutes of cut footage so I will be waiting for that to come out in an extra dvd feature soon I hope.

¡Líik’ik Talokan!

The term means “Rise Talokan” or “Talokan Rises” the Mesoamerican symbol is the hand symbol connected to the sun (source & source) Namor and the Talokanil use it in greeting to each other.

The Mesoamerican worldbuilding of Talokan is more than I ever hoped for. One of my main ongoing complaints of Namor’s world in the comics is that Marvel is more interesting in destroying it than building it up so it’s just really great to see that Coogler and team had Mesoamerican experts and a language teacher (who played the Shaman) to make sure everything is the best it can be. I know this is a fantasy take of Mesoamerica but I feel they really respected the source material, and Namor’s transformation from Prince/King of Atlantis to K’uk’ulkan is a wonderful way to bring about the comic fantasy coding of native (atlantean) people to actual native mesoamerican people representation.

After their tour Namor gives Shuri his mother’s bracelet. The bracelet is made with fibers of the blue vibranium plant that the Shaman gave to Fen and her people. I know people are saying “it’s romantic, he gave her his mom’s bracelet” but like, if y’all could just take off those shipping glasses for one second to understand not everything has a romantic intention behind it. Imo Namor gives it to her as a gift, a sign of trust, everything he’s done so far has been to extend his hand in trust to what he hopes will be allies to his people. That has been his motivation, that’s what compels him to go to Wakanda, he is seeking an ally, and why not the Princess who has a chip on her shoulder, who wants to burn the world as he does?

While Namor is gone, answering Queen Ramonda’s summons/falling for her distraction tactic, Shuri and Riri escape with Nakia and in the process one of Namor’s people, a young woman, is killed. Namor and Ramonda’s confrontation is tense, and again he carries the shell, remember it’s significance of a object that represents war or other intentions.

Until now Namor had been trying to reach Shuri and get her to see things from his POV about why the scientist should die, but he makes it clear to Ramonda that he will kill Shuri along with Riri if it ensures his people will be safe. That is a character who all throughout the movie has made his goals very clear and then the rest of his character follows through on his threats/promises.

When Namor comes back to Talokan he finds that the entire ruse had been a betrayal, a trick, to get him to leave and in the process it costs him the life of one of his people. If there was one thing in the comics that was always sure to set Namor off was one of his people dying, and it’s no different in the movie. He gathers his people to make a speech about how his hopes was for naught.

The attack on Wakanda was Namor’s retaliation for the murder of one of his people.

In the comics the first time Namor attacks Wakanda, he was possessed by the Phoenix Force and not in control of his mind/actions. However there is a Namor and Shuri plot where Shuri sends her warriors to slaughter Atlanteans because of the Phoenix Namor attack, and then he sends the Black Order to Wakanda. Shuri in the comics does have innocent Atlanteans killed and Namor retaliates. Again they adapted stuff for the movie, and it plays out differently but I just thought to share that to showcase how different things were done. You can read Namor and Shuri’s interactions (they don’t have alot in the comics) in my Black Panther (T’Challa) & The Sub-Mariner thread here.

Edit:

I forgot to add another scene that was Comic to Movie:

Black Panther (2009) #1 - there is a scene in the movie that is exactly like this, where they fly above and comment on how fast Namor is in the water.

/End Edit

The action scenes, every time Namor is flying around fighting and breaking stuff. Once again they show that Namor is A THREAT, and he will follow through on it. And again, the Sirens are so pretty, I love them. One thing I really found interesting is how we see Namor’s moral code even in battle, even after Ramonda, he knows he could crush them but instead he gives them time to grieve. Some people might go “why did he give them a week, etc.” but like, it makes sense for his character, he isn’t a murderer because he likes killing, everything he does is in accordance to his moral code and no one elses, honor is a huge thing with Namor in the comics too. Not to mention Namor’s over all goal throughout the movie, he wants Wakanda on his side, he will do what he can to get that. He points at Shuri and says “You are queen now.” He puts the heavy burden of caring for an entire nation on her shoulders, now she will finally be forced to either step up or let it crush her. Namor is pressure that presses Shuri’s character into change, either she will crack or become a diamond.

Good characters are not stationary, good characters grow and change.

The final three scenes I want to talk about:

The big Wakanda vs Atlantis fight takes place on the Sea Leopard, now this could just be a fun name they gave the ship but it could also be a deep dive reference into a Namor comic character, a villain called Sea Leopard.

Okoye vs Attuma fight again and I loved it. Namora was such a badass!!!! I didn’t mention the water bombs the Talokanil use but its so freaking cool, they use it all throughout the movie and they also use Whales to launch their people out of the water with their tails, or the people ride them. I just love all the worldbuilding of Talokan. I know I haven’t talked about other parts of the movie so far, but my favorite characters are M’Baku, Okoye, and Nakia. I enjoyed every moment M’Baku was on screen!!!

Namor vs Shuri, the big fight, Shuri has finally taken the mantle of the Black Panther, and this action scene was so freaking good. Shuri’s plan to use Namor’s weaknesses against him gains her the upper hand and to be honest all those whiney fanbois crying “but SHE is a girl and SHE can’t fight and beat Namor!!!!” need to shut up because they are WRONG. They aren’t jobbing Namor, they aren’t writing him out of character, these weaknesses are the same weaknesses Namor has in the comics!

Namor’s main weaknesses are: Pollution/Poisons, Being dried out/overheated, his wings being hurt, and some forms of mind control/amnesia.

The fight was more than fair imo and Namor isn’t flawless, he has weakness that were used against him. Honestly I would have been mad if he somehow was unaffected. ALSO I LITERALLY FREAKED OUT WHEN I SAW “IMPERIUS REX” ON SCREEN. lol, my arms were flailing for real.

Shuri weapon is against Namor’s throat and she has the power to avenge her mother, to kill Namor, to take that step further into violence and vengance, to burn the world and move further away from healing and dealing with her greif.

“When my mother died, the last person who truely knew me died with her” Shuri’s loss drove her to become the Black Panther.

Namor’s mother dies, and the last person who truely loved/knew him for him, for being him, not a protector, not a leader, that love dies too.

Ramonda’s words “Show Him Who You Are!” is echoed to Shuri, it’s the same words Ramonda yells at T’Challa in Black Panther, when he fights M’Baku at Warrior’s fall. This is Shuri’s defining moment, her path forks and she has to choose mercy and moving on, dealing with her grief or accepting vengence to forever take a place in her heart. Shuri demands Namor yields, and Namor yields, he got what he wanted, Wakanda’s alliance.

When Namora confronts Namor about him yielding, he even says as much, that what he hoped to achieve he got, and now Wakanda would turn to them when it was time (for them to face the surface world/colonizers)

The action scenes in the movie are amazing, I could watch it a hundred times, the final confrontation between them ends in peace between their peoples.

As I’ve said, this post was mainly focused on Namor & the Talokanil, and I didn’t go into depth with the other plots/characters because I’ve been a Namor fan for years so all my interest is hyperfocused on him and his people.

My complaint: Everett Ross’s entire plot was not needed in this movie, it literally could have been a phone call with the first scene and we could have gotten more scenes with Namor & the Talokanil.

Personally my one biggest gripe is that in the end Wakanda & Talokan should have gone after the main people who were a threat to their nations which was the american government, it was a earlier plot point with Queen Ramonda at the United Nations that was just dropped as the focus shifted over to Namor. I do wish they had keep that plot thread going and both Wakanda and Talokan had teamed up to fight the Government/Surface World etc. but this is a MCU Marvel/Disney movie and Disney/Marvel is never going to do anything so controversial as calling out the American or other governments in present day for their colonizing ways, which is why I feel keeping Colonization as something that happened in the distant past isn’t true. I know the realities of the studios politics and the message the movie was sending and tbh it really followed through on alot of things and my complaints are minor and doesn’t take away the sheer enjoyment and happiness I felt watching Namor and the Talokanil on screen. Also I’m so glad we got to see Namor’s artistic side, which he has in the comics as well.

Once again I am so glad that Namor is shown as a Man of Color and his people are Native Mesoamerican. I’ve always personally felt the coding in his comics meant that we would lose the impact of his story if they stripped him of his biracial poc coding and cast a generic white man. It was always my biggest worry when it came to thoughts of Live Action Namor.

I love how multifaceted Tenoch’s acting was with Namor. Tenoch Huerta is MY Namor, he is the perfect choice for Namor and I’ve stood by his casting since it was first announced.

Created in 1939 by Bill Everett, Namor is imo one of the best characters ever created in comics, and the mcu version is one that is equally as wonderful and complex. I love both versions very much.

#mcu namor #namor #mcu attuma #attuma #mcu namora #namora #black panther: wakanda forever #bpwf spoilers #meta #comic meta #mod: imperiuswrecked

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