#ITS HIS FUNERAL THEY ARE SAD AT he is there in spirit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lazycats-stuff · 4 months

Note

Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.

Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.

(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.

Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.

He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.

All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.

His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.

But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.

(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.

He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.

Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.

Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.

Match made in hell, so to say.

The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.

His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.

At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!

Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.

" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.

" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.

" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.

" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "

" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.

" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "

(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.

It was the driver's fault.

But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.

He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.

" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.

" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.

" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.

Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.

Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.

Nothing more.

But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.

They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.

He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.

And then you have Gotham.

But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.

He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.

After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.

" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...

Bittersweet beyond belief.

He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.

" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.

And she loved him.

While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.

Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.

They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.

" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.

Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?

" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.

" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.

" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.

They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).

" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?

" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.

" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.

" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.

" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.

" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.

" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.

" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.

(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.

He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.

" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.

" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.

" Yup. "

" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.

(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.

" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.

" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.

" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.

" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.

The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.

If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.

" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "

(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.

" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "

Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.

" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.

They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.

" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.

" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.

He knew it would work out in the end.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

511 notes · View notes

controld3vil · 1 year

Text

what she sow

PAIRING(S): AEMOND TARGARYEN X TARG!READER, AEGON II TARGARYEN X TARG!READER SYNOPSIS: Alicent sees herself in you. Her once-wild spirit dissolved in the flames of missed adventures and leisure. Before duty took her life away. But like her father, Alicent was bound to the realm. She scolds you whenever you make a brash comment or clash with your siblings. Out of everyone, Alicent finds comfort in talking to you but knows it’s a double-edged sword. You spoke truthfully and gave her the harsh reality every time. That you were a stubborn Targaryen. NOTES: - this one shot mostly revolves around the reader's life & perspective. implied relationships are referenced but aren't the main focus of this story. - excuse all grammar mistakes !! - cw: targcest; there are subtle hints but not explicit. if you’re uncomfortable, please do not read

DRIFTMARK was not as welcoming in its pursuit to give you comfort. You never favored the sea - it was a thousand miles away from your homeland. The grim-looking castle stood towering on its own, surrounded by the open ocean. The sun hid in the morrow today, and so did the radiant blue sky. You could feel a tinge of sadness as you glimpsed up into the void of dusty clouds. Regardless of the ceremony, the empty hole in your chest would not waver. The High Tide, a section of the Driftmark castle, was where most people visited in sorrow.

And as you stepped down onto the cold cobblestone, you took a deep breath. The apparent death of Laena Velaryon gathered many loved ones. She had only passed away a few days prior. Laena failed to give birth to her third child, her son. If not worse, Ser Vaemond persistently recited in high Valyrian. You understood the parts and pieces of what he was saying. In the memory of Laena Velaryon, let the Driftmark waves guide her soul toward peace. Or something like that you couldn’t decipher quickly enough.

You stood by, with your dark cloak next to your mother and siblings. Ser Criston made sure to stand by Alicent's right side. Your father, King Viserys, First in his name, was held by two knights, underseeing the ceremony in utmost sorrow. But compared to his children and wife, they were motionless and could not express empathy. You heard stories of Laena in your younger years. Your aunt and her family resided in Pentos, a thousand miles away from King's Landing. It was inevitable, partly because she was never interested nor cared.

You, the secondborn, did not want to bring shame to your family. But the Driftmark ceremony was tedious and cold. Not to mention, you knew no one besides the residents from King’s Landing. Staring at the ocean, you hope no one is looking at you for not paying your respects to your late aunt. Nothing on this god-forsaken island was worth contemplating. You knew this trip was dull as the most intriguing thing you sought out were the rigid rocks and dried-up seashells.

After the ceremony, the atmosphere became more relaxed. As residents and families alike walked on the canopy and talked. Your mother and Ser Criston Cole hesitantly stared at your father, who was seated in the center. You were holding your mother’s hand when she spoke to you.

“Go to your brothers and sister. Find comfort in them.”

You nod with haste, wanting to seek a sense of comfortability. Being surrounded by the unknown residents of Laena Velaryon did not please you. Why wouldn’t it? You never attended a funeral until now. It felt foreign, more uncomfortable than the grand parties back at King’s Landing.

You jog towards the nearest tent with drinks and tarts. The salted aroma of the sea was murky but diverged terribly with the freshly baked loaves of bread. Taking note of your presence, a servant girl presented a tray, a new batch of bread with various stuffings.

Politely thanking her, you grab the largest one. Sadly before you could delve into your savory snack, your brother’s obnoxious voice came down like a snap of a whip.

“I can't marry her.”

“You have to - it’s your duty.”

“You marry her then!”

“I would perform my duty to pass on the Valyrian bloodline.”

“She's an idiot– ow!”

“Not as idiotic as you,” Aemond turned to his right to find you, munching on a pastry. The same pastry you split into pieces and threw at your older sibling. Aegon lets out a scowl. “You were never suited for duty.”

“Pardon me,” The eldest son suddenly felt the urge to correct your claims. “I never said I'd refuse mother's marriage pact – Better yet, you should be envious of me and our sister. We’d be the first to marry in the family, performing our duties.”

“Mother says she will be our future queen.” Aemond jumps in, gazing at Helaena’s oblivious mumbling. His claims were purely harmless, though it was something your mother wanted you all to understand. Duty came necessary to bring to the realm. Sacrifices would be bargained with afterward.

Ignoring his words, you faced him head-on. “Call her an idiot again and I'll sever your tongue and feed it to the rats at King’s Landing.”

“That's awfully far from here, sister. Are you sure you can make it back on Gaelithox? Without plunging into the deep sea bottom?" He taunts, knowing it would only agitate you. Your dragon, Gaelithox, shared many qualities with you. Even after claiming him on your fifth-name day, you had trouble controlling him. He was not pleased whenever you mounted on his back. Numerous times, he jolted you off his saddle out of aggravation. Aegon could recite all the times you puffed annoyedly, pleading with the dragon as if he listened.

“Then I will feed you to Gaelithox. I'm sure he would enjoy a cunt for a meal,” You barked, trudging towards where Halaena sat. You knew what you said was disrespectful. Your mother would most definitely reprimand you if she heard. Calling your brother a cunt was prohibited. You spoke out of turn and will accept the consequences if Aegon or Aemond decides to tell your pesky mother. “Helaena, have you been sitting here all day?”

“Fret not dear sister, I've caught a spider,” Conversing with Helaena always soothed your sanity. You had a soft spot for her, attending to her mumbling and infatuation with insects. “Rivaling disorder will come to shake the tides. Solitude will not prevail.”

“Then we shall prepare for the tides,” Seizing your sister’s arm to head inside the castle. The cold and eerie palace. One that corresponded to King’s Landing but did not offer the reassurance your home did. “Come! Let’s rest!”

THERE WAS an inkling urge to rip all of the strings you’ve conducted. It didn’t look right. Embroidery was a lady’s sport, the representation of articulated beauty. Out of all of the girls, Helaena was the most skilled. She could’ve woven a thousand portraits and never gotten tired. The threads continually overlapped each other as she hemmed the final knot. She replaces the string with a different color and starts again.

“The trick is to keep track of the number of loops you’ve made,” She says, finding her rhythm in her work. Seeing your sister at ease consoled you. Her soft-spoken words were like an old childhood melody.

Sweet and soft.

Helaena never raised her voice. Only when she came to the world did her cries screech throughout the Red Keep. As a babe, you had no conscious memory. However, Helaena’s squealing gave you such a fright, you screamed. The mutual linger of anxiety was the only reminder of your genesis. It was a fuzzy recollection that periodically hovered in your head. For such an innocent girl, her cries would be the last thing you wanted to hear.

“What if you lose track?” You idly gaped at your sister’s handiwork. It was exquisite, resembling the sigil of the three-headed dragons.

“Then you best retrace the loops from the last knot you started on.” She giggled, tugging the needle in and out of the fabric. “Septa Rhea taught us that together!”

You beamed, “My apologies sister. I've forgotten.” You both knew that was sarcasm. You didn’t care as much as Helaena did about embroidery. A lady’s sport. Many things distinguished you unbecoming of a lady, and sewing was the least of your concern.

“At least understand the basic maneuvering of the needle, dear sister,” Your twin teased, slowly beaming as the corner of her lips moved upwards. “Mother would be upset if you abandoned your duties.”

“I have been practicing! No need to worry.”

“Even dragons lose their footing,” Helaena lightheartedly said. “Some may tumble into the sea like flightless birds…”

Your eyes quirk up to process her remarks. You couldn’t help but devilishly grin. “How dare you-!” Abandoning your work, you tackled her to the ground. Both of you giggled but were abruptly interrupted by the sounds of servants.

“Princess Rhaeryna is going into labor! Quickly bring the maesters!”

It stuns the two of you, ascending from the rug to pat down your gowns.

“We should visit our sister to help! I hear the birthing chambers is where many women gather to aid the–”

“It’s best if we do not intrude,” Helaena pats her skirt one last time and hauls you out of the room and down the passageway. “Mother would disapprove of such things.” Alicent forbade any of her children to even be in sight of Rhaeryna and her children. Her childhood friend was now a stranger to her. The discourtesy she bestowed on Velaryon and Targaryen's lineage was unrepairable. And the Queen Mother made sure to enlighten her children in such manners constantly.

“Follow your duties properly and the realm will be protected,” she said, caressing the heads of her four children one night. Her four children nodded, all too young to recall her words.

That afternoon, you roamed close to the gardens of King's Landing. They were nearly in color as winter was approaching its end. The flower bushes looked withered due to the frigid temperature. But soon they will prosper from their slumber, luminous with rich colors. Strolling down the gravel lanes, you pass by Jacaerys and Lucerys. Grabbing their attention, you ask them where they were running.

“We are going to the Dragon’s Pit! You’re welcome to join us.” Jace smiles while Luke nods with delight. The two of them were affixed on you whenever you joined them. Feasts, sword fights, or chasing through the Red Keep, they have become fond of your company. In the absence of your siblings' love, you were present whenever they asked.

“I’d be delighted to!”

In the waiting years for your egg to hatch, your father and the council members were worried whether your dragon would hatch. It was custom for a dragon egg to hatch at the same time as the birth of a Targaryen, becoming their life companion. But the dragon keepers reassured the king that patience was crucial.

Eventually, the gods shined brightly on you at the age of five. Despite many stares and pity whispers, you dismissed them. Even as a small child you were strong-minded and kept your thoughts clean out of criticism and jealousy. In a sense, Galitheox was alike — having to endure five years of isolation, unable to break away from the shells of dependency. You too felt imprisoned - the two of you in fire and blood were twisted in the bloodline and hierarchy of fidelity.

The day you recall the faint cracking sounds over the fire was one of the most rewarding days in your life. In excitement, you attempted to grab the egg but the dragon keepers defied your touch.

“You mustn’t touch, princess. Dragon eggs desire a place where they’re most comfortable.”

After you visited the Dragon Pit, your mother scolded Aegon and you. You were not involved in Aegon’s and Rhaeryna’s children's schemes but it did not bypass Alicent. She was enraged, more apprehensive about the reputation and well-being of her second son.

“You mustn't ridicule your younger brother. You know how passionate he is to have a dragon!”

You grimaced in silence when you saw the pig with wings strapped around its belly. Your older brother relished teasing, and he would giggle in delight at the humiliation of others. It was something you developed to distaste, a bad and annoying habit.

You felt your stomach pile with remorse at their laughter. You defended Aemond that day but were heavily criticized by their taunts. Your anger rose when they suggested you fetch your dragon to fly with Aemond. Everyone eventually exploded into name-calling that would’ve escalated into a physical fight. Fortunately, because of the distressed company of your younger brother, you held against it.

“It was only for mere amusement, mother—!”

“It should not and never will be! You brought shame into this family and humiliated your younger brother!” Alicent screeched, seizing both of Aegon’s fair arms. He had no clothes on, an appearance you were familiar with now.

Moping, you gazed down at your feet. You felt awful for not protecting Aemond. You treated him with respect since he was a babe. But you lacked the care your mother had for all of her children. Your protectiveness of him was relentless, yet you did not know how to console him, to reassure him of his insecurities. You accept ten times the admiration you deserve.

Calmly, Queen Alicent ushered her secondborn out of the room.

Sundown was mere minutes away as you strolled through the dimmed galleries. Dinner would come soon. And affairs were problematic to reminisce about. The Kingguards stationed around the palace peeked at you in question. The orange sky laminated brightly as the clouds surrounding King’s Landing grew darker. When night falls, the faint sounds of insects and chirping appear. The servant maidens who had completed their chores whispered in the dark corners. And the septas in the garden carefully minded their tongue, aware of Targaryen’s predicaments. Everyone in the palace was accustomed to the disputes all princes had.

The legitimacy of Jacaerys and Lucerys was always on the top of their tongues. It will never fade as long as they live. You wonder if their mother scolded them for the recent incident. Rhaeryna’s and Alicent’s relationship had plummeted out of existence since the birth of Aegon II. And the servant girls were naïve enough to whisper in hollow halls. You heard numerous rumors when Rhaeryna disregarded her father’s order to wed. And how Alicent’s proposal for marriage contradicted Laena Velaryron's. It saddens you how the deep scars of your family's past revoke the realm.

You weren’t mindful of where you were until the door of Rhaeryna Targaryen was in front of you. It was as if your consciousness wanted to find her. Would she allow you? Rhaeryna despised all of Alicent’s children, as someone said to you. Replace her legitimacy from the Iron Throne. You hoped it was not the case because your mother was inclined to pursue her duties as the second wife.

She never spoke to you only in telepathic stares. Her lilac eyes forever grimaced at yours, a gesture you could never recuperate. Knocking a few times, you voiced your greetings and asked for her presence. The doors were slightly open and only allowed light inside. The first time you saw Rhaeryna in days, she looked radiant. She was glowing with the aftermath of her pregnancy - sweat still presents on her forehead. She looked weary and slightly disoriented at the sudden visit.

Rhaeryna lets out a sigh at your name. “Please come in.” she smiles, which shocks you. She never smiled at you. “I apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting any visitors as the maesters have ordered me to rest…” Rhaeryna pushed her arms to allow entry. You strode into the room. Close behind you, your older sister shut the doors and found a suitable seat in her lounge.

For as long as you can recall, the firstborn of Viserys Targaryan and Aemma Arryn was fierce. She had a reputation as the first female heir declared to the Iron Throne. It fascinated you. Rhaeryna was given the duty of the realm at such a young age. Her purpose to wedlock children was now more demanding than ever. It was the power that was given to her that made her fierce. And the more desirable.

“I congratulate you on the birth of your third son, Princess.” You nervously chirped up, taking a seat across from her. “Pregnancy is a terrifying thing for all women. Yet you’ve done it three times.”

She laughs, buckling her chin down. The atmosphere felt bizarre because you’d never had a casual conversation with your half-sister. “I suppose you’re correct with that matter,” Rhaeryna mumbles, looking at you with those lavender hues. The same lavender hues from years before. “I thank you, Princess…” She acknowledged the atmosphere was tense. “Would you like to see him…?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “If you would allow it.”

“Come…” Your half-sister rises and puts a hand on her hip. “But you must be quiet since Joffrey’s been sleeping for quite some time.”

Rising, you immediately ran to her side and supported her weight. Rhaeryna beams up again and directs you to his crib. In quiet paddles, you could hear your nephew's tiny snores. His dark brown curls were the first thing that caught your eye. You mindlessly cursed at yourself for bringing up bad habits.

Taking a deep breath, you admired his other features. The silence you two shared was sublime. Staring down from the top of his lips to his tiny hands, you felt smitten. The babe was only a few hours old, but you wanted to spoil him rotten. The light blush he had reminded you of Rhaerynas. The sunset was beautiful, yet your nephew's face was more divine. The orange hues of sunlight highlighted his chubby cheeks. Joffrey’s long lashes resembled the smallest feathers.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?”

IN THE late evening at King’s Landing, the palace grows weary, and so have their residents. Dinner was tolerable - all the council meetings were pleased with their progress. The royal family was escorted back into their chambers to rest while the Kingsguard lurked around the shadows. Candles lit in every corner of the castle were burned out. Only a few in each corridor stood, barely hanging onto life.

As the moon slowly ascends, the sun goes down to rest. It was the same with those who resided in the kingdom of Westeros. The Queen Mother and her children descended to their bed chambers. As the servant girls followed the second-born daughter, she loosened her shoulders. The day was tiring as her mother demanded more of her time and assistance. Tedious and time-consuming.

Hence when the bubbling bath finally simmered, all of the maids huddled over the tub. One sprayed essential oils of lavender - another scattered small rose petals. The three remaining girls assembled around your body and began to unbind your laces. The dark crimson (almost velvet) dress hung down your hips luxuriously. It was one of your more favored dresses, gifted from the fine maker in Essos. The stitching of the swirls was intricately sewn, highlighting your curves.

It brought your title as a princess to the highest order. No man or woman could defy such beauty. The Targaryen characteristics only accentuated your playful charm. And those violet orbs that can pierce any living creature with a single stare. It glows between the moonlight like embers of a volcano. From the neck down, you remain poised. But on the occasion of a full moon, you loosen the tension between your shoulders.

Stripped down to your garments, you slipped out of them. There was a sense of comfort in these domestic times alone. You felt at peace as you climbed into the tub. The soft sizzling eased your body as you moved further down. The heat never harmed the Targaryens - it sympathized with you. The fireplace behind you was the only light source in the room. It chaotically twinkled, burning through the logs beneath them. The smell of incense lingered - like sweet wine waiting to be drunk. After a long day regarding your mothers' necessities, you wanted to disappear from the world.

You should no longer exist.

However, that dream will never come true, as the doors breached open - your train of thought with a dreadful visitor. “Princess, the Queen,” You sigh and gesture to the maidens. As soon as the doors open, your mother waltzes in hastily. She looked like she was in a hurry to get here. Alicent's brows were full of tension, and her mouth was slightly open in exasperation.

“Leave us,” She said, looking down at you. The doors suddenly closed. The room was hers to initiate. “I have some news to share with you.”

“What is it?”

“Well—“ Her breath staggers as she stumbles towards the nearby couch. Your eyes linger down at her clammy hands. Your mother, the Queen Mother, was anxious about what she was about to disclose. “Your grandsire and I have settled to wed Aegon and Helaena.”

Alicent had to flip a coin every time she spoke to you. You could explode, like a firework - if it displeased you. Or become soft and docile like a dragon - lazily resting in the Dragon's Keep. But both alternatives can be bittersweet. So when she made the decision, you had to be the first one to know. Not even Aegon or Helaena were aware of the news. If not for Viserys as king, she would’ve appointed you onto the counsel if she wanted. Alicent relied on your morals and decision-making.

But sometimes it came with a price.

“What…? Why—?”

“It was inevitable - but now, we have chosen a date,” She clasped her hands together, preventing herself from shaking. “For the ceremony.”

“Why have you come to me first–?”

“Because I trust you, sweet dear, more than anyone,” The last part was a lie. Alicent wanted to assure you that she still does have faith in you. “Aegon will be king - Helaena will be queen—“

“No… she shouldn’t!” You grimaced at her, dragging your knees to your chest. Even in the haste of rage, your disheveled state looked beautiful. “Why would she marry that twat? Their marriage will cease to exist the moment it is declared.”

“She is the most suitable. Helaena has shown devotion to her duties and will not fight against it.”

“Then I will!” Your slouched back straightens. “Why would you let her be married off to our cunt of a brother—?”

The slip of your name hangs on her tongue. With a sharp inhale, her lips narrow. “Hold your tongue.”

“Do you have no respect for her?! When she marries that idiot, he will treat her with no respect and love! Without devotion, their marriage will crumble. Her children will suffer the same fate!“

“She will be performing her duty!”

“What duty?!” You cried, face filled with burning rage. There was a contortion of emotions on Alicent’s face. Anger makes you look more beautiful. Because when your patience is at its peak of erupting, chaos debuts. “Why would you sacrifice your children for duty? Why is duty more important than your children?”

Sacrifice for duty? You were speaking nonsense, Alicent deciphers. She was more than willing to face you herself after dinner. All of the preparations have concluded with a check on a pamphlet. The Queen Mother had known the wedding would not be triumphant if not for her children’s well-being. You were the first she had to console - let you understand why she must accept this proposition. But the claims you made disbanded her attempts at peace.

“Why? Because duty is sacrifice!” Vice versa, your mother's fury had just begun. It was as if the two of you wanted to add more firewood to the burning fire. “To uphold the Targaryen bloodline is to maintain its course.”

“Then you don’t care for your children,” You ridicule back with a sneer. “Helaena should not marry him! She should have the freedom to do so!”

“Then who would you let her marry?!”

“Someone more kind and considerate. More attentive than our brother because she deserves far more than all of the suitors in Westeros. She is the righteous figure of beauty. She should at least be happy! I want her to be happy!” Angry tears sprung out your eyelids, blinding you to your mother’s shattered face. “Aegon doesn’t deserve her… She should have the right to do so….”

A minute passed, and all Alicent could think of was the look on your face. She has seen you broken down before but never torn to pieces like this. Your protectiveness over your sister was something she envied. The two of you had each other, never to be alone. She tries to clear her throat but fails.

On the other hand, silence offers you a moment to ponder. You felt shameful of your outburst, of shouting at your mother over a trivial matter of love. But you wanted Helaena to be free and content. It was an impossible justification as arranged marriages were more political arrangements. It pained you to envision how your sister would feel. Dressed in her wedding gown, she would have the most pristine and painful smile. It should be you in the Citadel, offering your freedom to the gods.

Your better half deserved that much.

“I understand your doubts, darling… I really do,” The Queen’s watery eyes trail back to you - and hesitantly rose up from her seat. Your body felt chilly even in the hot boiling bath. “But this is the only way. Rhaeryna had once asked for Helaena’s hand for her son, Jacaerys. I could not let her son have it her way…”

You hummed deliberately. She had mentioned Jacaerys proposal once before - it did not bother you. Jacerys always had a kind heart and was quite fond of you and your younger sister. However, the Queen Mother was grudgingly displeased with Rhaeryna’s children. Her sons and their dark curly hair and lack of Velaryon qualities.

You looked up at her, unaware of how close she was to the tub. “Then wed Aegon to me.”

It takes a second for Alicent to process what you just said. “W-what—? Dear, I don’t understand—“

“Wed him to me.” Sorrow filled your eyes. You lifted your head to meet her with a bitter smile. Your blonde hair posed carefully on your shoulders, slightly skimming the water. “I will deal with him right. He will obey.” Your mother acknowledged the strange fondness the two of you had. The two of you had a familiar sense of humor and danger. He would waste his ways with his whores. While you distracted yourself with old men about philosophy. Aegon tolerated you, unlike Aemond and Helaena - who did not stand for his despicable banters.

“You’re right…” For once, the Queen agrees with her daughter. Perhaps Aegon was the ideal match for you. However, she recalls the harsh critiques her father had of you.

She is far from a lady. Her redundancy to those ferocious beasts is beneath her. The princess is unbecoming of her maiden’s duties.

Your mother brushes a few strands of hair behind your right ear. A single teardrop ran down your face, taking in the shape of your face - she takes in the cruel truth.

“It’s too late for that… Your grandsire expects the preparations in a few days…” Your expression drops slightly, a habit you picked up from Alicent. Viserys protectiveness and her witted mouth - you brought out the best of the Hightowers and worst of the Targaryens. No longer should she demean your judgment - the truth that could’ve saved her children from years of torment and isolation.

“My cunt of a grandsire is as demanding as ever….” And for the first time, she didn’t mind you calling her father a cunt. She softly chuckles, taking in the heat and light from the fireplace.

THE SMALL rubbles of sand leaped back and forth as the royal carriage came to a stop. The Kingsguard in front of the entry of King’s Landing did not flinch, bearing on their duties. The frigid weather did not suit Westeros. The air was tense as the doors opened to reveal Princess Rhaeryna and her family.

Residing in Dragonstone was a calculated conclusion for Rhaeryna. Kings Landing only brought awful memories from her childhood. As she stared at the castle, disappointment shielded her eyes. Westeros’s King’s Landing did not change — it was like steel, lingering for the rust to overwhelm its bare roots. She did not miss the people or the nostalgic conformity. She ignored her thoughts and stepped forward, carefully holding her swollen belly. Her husband, Daemon, and sons came out after her. And her niece, Rhaena stood beside her, sensing her distress.

They all knew arriving here would be uneasy. But for Lucery’s claim to the Driftmark throne, Rhaeryna was determined. No one should challenge her children’s claims and indirectly spit in her face.

Ser Vaemond Velaryon should’ve rotted in the Stepstones a long time ago.

“Have you spoken to the dragon keepers about this predicament, Princess?”

“Not quite, though I’m sure they won’t have anything to say,” You worriedly march towards the desk full of scrolls and parchments. Trailing your fingers over all the papers, you search for the particular piece about dragon scales. “Gaelithox grows weary day by day. And there’s nothing I can do.”

You inspected all the dragons in the Dragon’s Pits during your study. You relished learning their manners and habits. But one of the unknown, not even the Seven could deduce, was the changes your dragon had. Gaelithox was ill, or so you thought. A cold? He wasn’t in severe conditions but was consistently troubled and did not desire to fly like usual. His albino scales were slowly flaking off like the skin of a snake. One by one, his scales fall off, revealing a darker shade, a dusty gray.

The dragon keepers could not come up with an explanation for this mystery. Anyone knowledgeable about dragons was gone - very few were in the presence of these giant beasts. Your dragon, your sole companion, was fighting an unknown condition. Yet you could not do anything about it. Gaelithox nuzzled against your frame - every time you spoke to him. He sighs - reassuring you it is not as painful as you feared.

“He’s as stubborn as a mule,” Sighing discreetly, you did not see your lady-in-waiting, Kiara. She patiently pauses and allows you to finish your conversation with the maester. “I cannot continue my research if he’s unwell.”

“You have more than enough time, Princess. His sickness will pass. Many of the maesters - including myself - will look into this predicament and let you know if we discover anything worthwhile.”

“Princess,” Kiara carefully voices. Your head turns, raising your brows in question. “The Queen requests your presence.” The maester beside you intertwines his hands and bows. You nod and steadily remove yourself from the library. Kiara smiled as you walked with her swiftly. After becoming your lady-in-waiting, she has become your trustful friend. It was rare to have a friend in King's Landing. Kiara took pride in herself - to have gained your trust.

And she knew you were troubled. The news of Ser Vaemond’s ridiculous assembly disturbed you.

After the loss of Aemond’s eye, some part of you changed. You did not understand why, at the time, Lucery's had a knife when nobody else had. He was the only one who held a weapon. Why was it fair for Rhaeryna to claim it as self-defense? In the process, Aemond’s claim about Vhagar angered Laena’s children. The night became more disastrous as the distance between Alicent and Rhaeryna's relationship faded. You held onto your dear sister protectively that night. Your mother was spiraling down in panic while your half-sister stood her ground. Even your father had to intervene and scold the two women. You had never seen him as outraged as he was that night. Viserys never yelled unless regarding his family.

And when he turned to Aegon after Aemond's accusation, you quickly held onto your older brother's arm. Out of fear of Viserys screams and the following events.

Perhaps you would have done something differently if you had more courage. You stare at your mother's back - worriedly pacing back and forth in front of someone's chambers. “Mother,” She jumps in shock. “You wished to see me?”

Queen Alicent flattens her dress. “Yes dear, I would like you to welcome our guests. Rhaeryna and Daemon are already in your father's chambers.”

Your eyebrows rose in immediate anger. “Why have you not informed me sooner?”

“I apologize, sweet darling,” Your mother rubs your arms consolingly. “I was… caught up in a council meeting.”

You thought about making a hasty remark but denied it. Nodding with a soft smile, you stepped back. “I will greet Rhaenrya and Daemon accordingly. It has been a long time since we last saw them.” Before your mother could say anything, you headed to the king’s chambers.

Alicent saw it coming. She failed to inform you of your half-sister's return. But you knew it was inevitable - no one was pleased for the heir to the Iron Throne to return. Many of the residents in King’s Landing were not fond of her from the start. Your steps speed up. Kiara, behind you, desperately tries to catch up. She calls for you to slow down - but you ignore her.

Entering the chambers of King Viserys, you notice your sister’s posture. She was stiff - standing beside her husband, sitting on an armchair near the fireplace. Both their expressions were in surprise to not be greeted by the Queen, but her daughter.

“Princess Rhaeryna, Prince Daemon,” You bowed with a genuine smile. “Welcome back to King’s Landing. I hope the trip was not as tedious as you anticipated.”

A playful chuckle erupts from Daemon. Despite your similarities, you two never spoke to one another. Though there are times - you hoped he would reach out and bond with you. His dragon, Caraxes, was exquisite, adorning itself in red blood scales. Stories say that when he arrived at the Step Stones, Caraxes burned hundreds of their enemies on the shoreline. Millions of burnt bodies lay on the sandy floor. You thought his efforts were admirable.

Your sister’s face morphs in relief. Her furrowed brows no longer tensed in thought, she returns the smile. “Thank you,” She breathes your name in hesitation. It’s been many years since the two of you spoke. You hoped she had fond memories with you when she still lived in King’s Landing. “It’s good to see a familiar face. None of the others dared to greet us at the gates.”

Your bitterness towards your mother was boiling.

“I do apologize. The council members were occupied, discussing regional matters —“

“You seem to have decorated the place quite nicely. Why is that?” Daemon’s tone stunned you. He sounded aggravated, more so teasing. Your lilac eyes trailed back to his like magnets. With his head slightly down and slumped posture, you felt intimidated. “You allow the Hightowers to plunder in with their pretty lights and stars. Did they remove the Targaryen flags as well?”

You felt as if he was pointing the blame toward you. Even when you had no control over which sigil to display in King’s Landing - it was as if you were playing a game of chess with him. He had just taken one of your pawns.

“Due to the King’s sickness, the Queen has taken matters into her own hands.” Your lips draw a narrow line. “And the council members do as they please.”

You wanted to block his attacks - to prevent checkmate. If you wanted to insult him, you would have - but the company of your dear sister was present.

“And have the maesters been able to deal with our father's sickness?” Her tone is more delicate than Daemon’s, more promising. Rhaeryna has always tried to maintain mutualism between her family but forever failed. You applaud her for her attempts. “Does he sleep all day in bed? Moaning like a dying dog?”

Her last sentence made your heart jump. You would have expected her to smile again - but she doesn't and holds Daemon’s hand.

“His sickness is inevitable,” You sneer lightly, shielding your hands behind your back. “The maesters tried everything even before you left for Dragonstone. It is an unrecognized sickness no one has witnessed before.” Daemon tightens his grip on Rhaerynas hand. “The councilman and Queen do as they see fit. Regardless of what they do, I have no part in their decisions. You must understand Rhaeryna - the councilmen have firm beliefs for the realm."

“And what do you know about the realm?” Daemon took your last words as an insult. “You, the daughter of my brother's second marriage with a whore of a mother. Tarnishing the Targaryen name with outlandish banners and statues!”

“Daemon enough—!” Rhaeryna snaps, releasing his grip. She steps forward with a stern look.

You glare at your uncle, and the sharpness of your hues brightens. “The maids will escort you to your rooms. I thank you for your patience today - I hope to see you again in the Red Keep… for your son’s illegitimate claim.”

Your eyes meet again mockingly. The rumors of Rhaeryna and Daemon are far more than true. In front of you, their gazes darkened. They were one of the same. Both held more than cruel intentions, glaring holes into your body. You knew you had stepped into the dragon’s pit, two voracious dragons snaring their teeth at you.

You had just lost Rhaeryna’s trust.

That late evening, you harshly plucked at the jewelry adorning your ears and neck. The small candles on your vanity table flickered as your eyes glanced at all the luxurious accessories, then at yourself in the mirror. The radiant blush on your cheeks lightly flushes under the candlelight, lashes carefully fluttering with ease. Your lips lacked tension, the adorning color of roses.

Between the pearls and rubies, you chose the custom-made silvers from the Narrow Seas. The pearls enhanced their diamond edges. You gracefully clipped them onto your ear lobes and unlatched the necklace that came with it. The chain somewhat resembles sea coral. The gold molded into a sea fan, the center representing a large pearl.

Kiara stepped beside you and gave you an approving smile. “They’re beautiful, Princess.”

“A talented jewelry maker gifted this on my fifth and tenth nameday.” You pleasantly reciprocated her smile. “He was a fine man.”

“He certainly had a keen eye,” Your lady-in-waiting teases with a mischievous tone. You couldn’t help but recall that day. It was hot and humid in King’s Landing. Fine carpenters and others stumbled upon your home to offer gifts. You and your sister did not favor extravagant parties. Yet it amused you when men came flocking in with boxes that required more than five men to carry. The man from the Narrow Seas was more than generous as he offered his entire stock. You knew he only did it for the crown. Yet out of all your gifts, his treasures caught your eyes the most. “Are you ready, Princess?”

You hum in approval and lift yourself from your chair. Dinner unexpectedly became a dreadful thing to look forward to. You wished you were flying on Gaelithox instead of being forced to converse with relatives. But then Kiara leads you out of your room and down the corridors. The night had already begun its course.

And when you first entered the dining room, none of your family members had gathered by the dinner table. Everyone was disassembled and socializing with each other. Rhaeryna admires the tapestries alongside her husband while Alicent whispers to the Hand. Aemond and Aegon seem to be chatting away about unknowns to you. And your nieces, Rhaella and Baela, were beside Jacaerys and Lucerys by the fire.

Helaena was chatting with a servant girl when you arrived beside her. “Be sure to feed them after their baths,” The maid nods and heads out.

You took her place and reluctantly snickered. “Have the twins been restless playing with their mother?”

“Quite, actually,” Helaena laughs, adorning her sweet smile you adored dearly. “We had to replace a servant girl in the morrow. It was a sudden request - they weren’t happy about it.”

“They are energetic when they are young.” You sarcastically sigh while Helaena nods similarly. You dearly cherished her twins - they both had the same curious look their mother had. Jaehearys and Jaehaera shared many similarities with Helaena - which made you relieved for many reasons.

A bell rings suddenly - everyone walks to their selected seats. You guide yourself next to your sister’s seat. Beside you, Aemond sits at the end of the table. However, across, your grandsire, Otto Hightower sits in front of you, already observing you as if critiquing your posture. The shuffling of footsteps echoed throughout the room as the Kingsguard carried King Viserys on a small carriage. Your eyes follow his arrival, never breaking eye contact. Everyone stares at the king.

When he sits between his wife and daughter, Viserys groans in pain. Your father stands and brings attention to him. It was a heartwarming speech - one that almost brought you to tears. For the longest time, you never had family dinners with your father. He was often too ill - converging with your siblings was already a daily occurrence. Your mother tries her best to involve everyone in the conversation. It’s awkward - her efforts are rewarded whenever you pitch in at someone's interest. Your small family is not as close as people expect you all to be - but you manage with the time you have with each other.

The king’s words remind you that family issues are unavoidable and tiresome. Steep wounds had damaged your family, those evident of your mother. Yet here you are with all of your family members in peace. For a moment, you relished their faces, all bearing the same characteristics and traits. House Targaryen is at its strongest when they are together. For centuries, your house stood as the most powerful, sitting on the Iron Throne. Without your disputes, you would have all stood together in King’s Landing.

When King Viserys removed his iron mask, you could feel your heart tremble. He jokes about his appearance - it makes your eyes water. Your father was a kind-hearted and generous man. Out of all the Targaryens, he was the few that cherished your heart. You loved him, you thought as you wiped your tears away.

Queen Alicent drapes her hands around his shivering form. She looks at her husband with tenderness. And for a moment, Rhaeryna was hesitant to speak. Yet she does it anyway and raises her cup. Viserys's words resonated through all of your minds. He wanted his family to stop fighting. Alicent and Rhaeryna sense remorse in their words, knowing their actions impacted many of their past accounts. You listen to your half-sister and your mother toast. Raising their cups to one another felt like a mutual victory.

And with a murmur, you hear Aegon’s obnoxious sniggering. It irritated Jacaerys much more to have him suddenly stand. All eyes abruptly rested on him as he nervously lifted his cup. Aemond suddenly stands as well - you skim at him with suspicion. He eyes down at you with a long empty stare.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” he starts, awkwardly punching Aegon’s shoulder. You feel a smile grow on your face. It felt amusing to witness. “We have not seen each in years. I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, uncles.”

Aegon clears his throat. “To you as well.” Alicent’s eyes flicker slightly in relief. And as if sensing your stare, your older brother glances at you. You mischievously quirk your head side-ups to mock him. Nothing to say? His eyes twitch in confusion.

Reluctantly, Helaena slowly rises to raise her cup. She salutes her nieces on their engagement to Jacaerys and Lucerys. “It isn’t so bad… Usually, he just ignores you… except when he’s drunk.” The crowd lightheartedly chuckles. Helaena was innocent in every way. She was endearing and lacked the malice many others had. You drink to her toast, gleaming at her with pride. She never deserved him. You can only guess your mother felt displeasure at her speech. When Queen Alicent declared their wedding, you had no power to veto it. What satisfied you now was the look on your brother's face - ashamed.

Yet they would have to refill one last time.

When Helaena takes a seat back down, you stand up. “And a final toast to those sitting beside the King.” All eyes dart up at you as you raise your cup again. Your arm was unnecessarily sore from raising your glass too many times. “Without you, the realm wouldn’t have been able to prosper. In a time of peace and tranquility, you have captured the hearts of the people of Westeros,” You nudge towards your father, partly. “And to those who stand beside him... Your deeds have not been forgotten. Those who are devoted to the crown will see it prosper. House Targaryen is thankful for all of your sacrifices and hardships. Long may we reign!” Daemon’s faint chuckle likewise makes you scowl slightly. The words you spoke of felt like molten lava. It didn’t feel right for the tongue to speak. Yet when you finished and looked at your mother, everyone cheered. She beams wholeheartedly at your speech, alleviated that you’ve harmonized with your father’s words.

Bitterly, you sit down and consume the last of the wine. It clings harshly down onto your throat. Like poison, it strips you of your senses and numbs you of your surroundings. Luckily, you feel Helaena’s hand wrap around yours with ease. She knows you didn’t mean what you said. The way you spit out your words like venom to everyone. You are not one to please others - it was not in your nature. You despise dinners more than ever.

“You did not have to do that, dear sister.” Helaena hums, plainly lets go of your hand, and starts eating. “You could’ve said something out of hand.”

“Yet I did not.” You respired, refilling your cup. “Do not underestimate my ignorance, sweet sister. If I wanted to humiliate them, I would have.”

“Mind your tongue.” She harshly whispers your name. “You shouldn’t. Not here with mother and father present.” You can tell by Helaena’s jittery hands she's uncomfortable. Is she afraid you will grow brash? Even if she fails to admit it, Helaena is afraid of you. It does not matter if she denies it. You see it in her lilac pupils whenever you’re about to snap. Her eyes quiver - her hands shake as if shaken from ice. Your dear sister did not want you to explode — make a fool of yourself.

You pity her compassion. She shouldn’t care as much for you. Helaena should not worry for you because you are capable of the consequences. Therefore when Jacerys asks for Helaena’s hand for a dance, you’re glad you see her jittery hands fade away.

The musicians near the doors began to play a playful tune for the two young dancers. The atmosphere felt festive with all of the food brought out. Queen Alicent felt relaxed, talking to her father. For the first time in many years, she's able to enjoy a delightful conversation with him. It felt right for her. Her heart flutters when she meets Rhaeryna’s eyes. They constantly beam at each other. They were together again — as a House and family.

Rhaeryna giggles at a comment Daemon says to her in her ear. She hasn’t laughed in years. Amused at his wife’s reaction, Daemon mischievously sips his wine. He's not one to mingle and apply useless conversation. Yet when he hears his lady wife giggle, he feels content. While beside him, Lucerys happily talks to his betrothed cousin. At first, he was nervous to speak but Rhaena was the one to reassure him. Together, they were an adorable pair Rhaeryna always thought.

In the corner, Aemond eyes his younger nephew. Lucerys mindlessly does not look at him but gleams at what Rhaella said. His right eye squints, wanting to pierce his nephew's head on a spike. Aegon, diagonally mumbles something unrecognizable. The wine is getting to him, he thinks. A glimpse, he believes he can see the teenage boy's eyes glance at him nervously.

“Scaring the poor child will do you no good, dear brother.” Your voice tunes him out of his gaze momentarily. He clenches his hand on the table at your sudden comment.

However, his gaze did not falter as he continued to look forward. In his perpetual, his eye senses you continue your pursuit, leaning closer to his chair. Your lips were a breath away from his ear - as your hand shields your mouth.

“Foolishness does not suit you. And please do not summon Vhagar, you'll frighten our guests.” You snicker aimlessly. Aemond’s glare now directs at you. Yet he does nothing and leans back in his chair. When he looks at his mother and Helaena, gracefully dancing with Jacaerys with the biggest smile on her face. He feels the urge to smile — at least they are happy. Yet when his eyes land on you, it feels unjust. You were chit-chatting with Aegon, both drunk to the core from the red wine. The two of you shout with slurs and boisterous laughter.

He ignores the pit in his stomach. “Final tribute.” He says when the Kingsguard escorts the king to his chambers. “To the health of my nephews, Jace… Luke and Joffrey.” Jacaerys released his hold from Helaena’s. “Each of them… handsome, wise…” he hesitated, yet rage fueled his words. “Strong…”

Alicent calls out his name nervously.

“Come, let us drain our cups for these three…” You glance at Rhaeryna’s expression, which displays disappointment. Grinning in delight, you raise your cup while Aegon follows your pursuit. “Strong boys…”

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourselves strong—“ Jacaerys punches Aemond with a forceful blow to the face. Your brother barely flinches as he backs away, laughing. Reluctantly, Aegon reaches for Lucerys and slams him down on the table.

Pure madness was overtaking dinner. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of your family fighting. Alicent quickly strides towards Aemond and questions him about his foolish action.

And with a simple curt, he says. “I was merely expressing how proud I was of my family, mother.” He turns back to Jace, “Though it seems as though my nephews aren't as proud as theirs.”

“You—!”

“Stop, stop.” Daemon steps in between the two and urges his son to let it go. His son obliges and goes to his mother hovering over Lucerys.

“Go to your rooms, all of you.” Your sister’s motherly voice reached your ears. The silence between the youngest sons of kings stared down at each other. Aemond is the one to break and leave.

You hastily follow behind him.

King's Landing was not the most pleasant place to be at night. The only moving figures were Aemond’s black coat and your laced dress. The clattering sounds of your footsteps only made Aemond’s pace quicken. It was until you see him reach a dark corridor you stop. The moon was impatient tonight as it illuminates lustrously upon your arrival. Your steps were slow and concise, not wanting to provoke his rage. You called out his name.

There was no answer.

The closer you come to the corridor, the snappier your heart beats. The enjoyment you deemed back at dinner was fading away. The adrenaline you had from your family’s gathering was now pumping through your veins. You called him out again, facing the dark wall of the cold entrance. You could see his figure standing in the shadows. His hair - even though covered by the darkness - is still beautiful. He enjoys the lack of light the night gives him. You can tell by his posture, leaning against the wall he was studying you. “Are you satisfied now, brother?” You are met with silence, encouraging you to continue. “Your foolishness truly exposed our family's differences.”

“And yet you spoke of unity tonight.” He breathes, and the vapors of his words flow into the night sky. His tone was ice cold, wanting to puncture your beating heart. He snaps in disgust - you guess by the change of his posture. “You said that House Targaryen united us all.”

“Yet I rose my cup to your tribute.” Your slow strides unnerved him. Your shoes - that can clank roughly against the cold cobblestone - made your presence stern. You were like a water serpent emerging from the depths of the ocean. Your expression - cold makes his heart beat faster. “You know I despise lying, Aemond.”

“Must you always fiddle with your lies?” He sneers, nudging his face fully at you. Your silence alerted him to your uncertainty and confusion. “Why did you toast to them?”

“Is it not respectable of me to congratulate our sister and uncle?” With a raised eyebrow, you felt a strong sense of rage. “Despite my distaste for Rhaeryna and her family, it does not demean my respect for them.”

“Respect is the last thing they deserve.” He releases himself out of the darkness and towers over you. His annoyance was like ticking a time bomb.

You can see his eyes flicker toward your lips. “It wouldn’t be fair.” Eyes colored in the darkest purple trail up to meet one another. You two stare at each other, too tense to move. “To you included.” Aemond freezes for a moment. It was as if he didn’t catch what you said. “How hypocritical of you to deem them without respect while you do the same.” You can feel a devilish grin come to your lips. “With a bastard.”

And like a scared animal, your brother jumps back. He doesn’t look frightened, mostly troubled — in his mind. Yet before you say another word, he brushes past you and dashes back into the darkness.

2K notes · View notes

hopefulromances · 10 months

Text

Long Time Coming I Chapter Eight I Foolish One

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning: Angst babes, just angst

A/N: Didn't want to make yall wait too long. AHHAHA

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

If I thought that I had been avoiding Jamie before, I was altogether ignoring him now. I tried not to let me emotions get in the way of things between us being friends, but I really couldn’t stand to be near him right now. I avoided him for the rest of the funeral, didn’t even say goodbye. Luckily for me we were given an extra day off where I was able to get some distance from him.

I stopped going to the pitch in the morning, opting instead to stay after training in order to avoid Jamie. I avoided the locker room, hanging out with Keely or Rebecca for as long as I could before sneaking into my corner of the coach’s office as quietly as possible. Luckily, most of the attention was on Doctor Sharon leaving, and the upcoming game at Brantford.

That and Edwin Akufo’s sudden appearance at the club that really shook things up. I hated not being around Jamie. He made me feel better about myself, just being around him lifted my spirits. But now, just thinking about him made my heart hurt like the ache I felt when his dad showed up in Man City. I was heading to meet Rebecca for lunch when he finally caught me in the hallway.

“(Y/N),” He called after me. “Wait up a second, would ya?”

I froze in my place, knowing that I couldn’t very well just avoid him. I let him jog up next to me and turned to face him.

“Hi, Jamie,” I greeted smally. He stared for a second, waiting for anything from me but I was not giving it.

“Yeah, well, I just missed ya this morning,” he told me, his hands going into his pockets. “And I just feel like I haven’t heard from you much recently.”

I looked down, not able to meet his gaze. “Yeah…”

Again, I didn’t elaborate. Jamie furrowed his brows, a frown etching its way onto his face. We stood, facing each other in a more-so-uncomfortable silence.

“Anyways, I should go, Rebecca is waiting for me.” I started to walk off.

“Uh, okay? See you around?” He called after me.

I didn’t respond as I walked up the stairs to Rebecca’s office. When he was finally out of earshot, I let out a large breath. That was probably the worst conversation I have ever had in my life. I knocked on Rebecca’s door waiting for her reply before walking in. She was sat on the couch, munching on Ted’s cookies as she always did come lunch.

“Welcome, welcome!” She greeted, patting on the set next to her. “Come sit” I gave her a grateful look and slumped down on the couch. “Woah, that was a heated plop. C’mon out with it. What’s going on?”

“How do you know anything’s going on? Maybe, I’m just in a ploppy mood!” I defended myself. Rebecca stared at me. “Okay, fine.” I sat up and scooched, so I was sitting on the edge of the couch. “So, at the funeral I was going to tell Jamie how I felt. I know!” I held up a hand, silencing her. “Bad setting but I was overly emotional. Anyways, I was on my way to tell him when I overheard him telling Keely that he still loved her.” A sympathetic gaze overtook Rebecca’s expression. “Yeah. And now I can’t be around him without being… sad… so I’m trying to give us space. But I just miss him so much!”

“I understand how you feel,” Rebecca admitted. “I told Sam that I wanted to take a break at the funeral.” I gasped in surprise. “But now, with this whole Edwin Akufo situation, I feel so… BLAGH!”

I leaned over to rest my head on her shoulder. “Well, aren’t we a couple of heartbroken idiots.”

She hummed in agreement before looking down at me. “The worst part about it is that I don’t want to tell Keely because-“

“Because she has her vanity fair thing! Exactly!” I shot up, excited to have someone who understood the predicament.

“Exactly,” Rebecca punctuated. She reached over and picked up her box of cookies and held the box out for me. “Here, you deserve one as much as I do.”

I looked at her like she was offering me the cure to cancer. These cookies were legendary, and she was just offering one up to me like it was nothing? I took one out of the box gingerly.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” I praised, bowing my head slightly. “I shall treasure this always.”

We giggled to ourselves for a moment whilst I chowed down on my cookie. Rebecca kept glancing over at me though, like she was thinking something but didn’t want to say anything.

“What?” I pressed, popping the last bit of the cookie in my mouth. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That ‘I have advice’ look! So, out with it!”

Rebecca scoffed and adjusted herself. “I just… I just think you should still tell Jamie how you feel.”

“Are you joking?” I asked, incredulous. “I think that is the worst possible thing I could do right now.”

“Well! I’m just saying. Are you planning on ignoring him for the rest of your life?” She pointed out. I shrugged, slumping back down again. “Well… then I think the only option is to talk to him!”

She was right. I knew she was right. But that didn’t make it any easier to do. To tell Jamie how I felt would be excruciating, especially when I knew he didn’t like me back. But I didn’t want to go forever without seeing him again and the best way back would be to tell him what was going on.

That’s how I found myself standing on the pitch the next morning. I wondered if Jamie would show up today or if he was done trying to find me. I kicked the ball lamely in around, thinking over exactly the speech I had thought of to tell him. Nothing heartfelt, nothing to get my emotions running high. Just ‘I liked you, you don’t like me, let’s move on’.

But then, there he was, walking towards me. He was smiling, like he was excited to see me. And everything that I had planned was flying out my ear. My brain was empty. No thoughts, just Jamie.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed as he got closer to me. “I was afraid you’d gotten scared off. Too impressed by my raw skills.” He laughed but I found myself unable to move. “Is everything alright?” Again, I found myself unable to speak. I opened my mouth and realized how hard I was breathing. “What’s going-“

“Do you know how much I wanted to hate you?” I blurted out finally. He looked taken aback by my comment. “Like I really wanted to hate you. You were so talented, and young. Just like me. Except you got everything you wanted while I was sidelined. The second I finished university no one cared about me anymore.” Jamie’s faces scrunched up as he tried to understand what I was saying. “And at first, you made it really easy to hate you. You were such a dick.” I chuckled and Jamie let himself laugh a bit as well but then my laughter died. “But then you went and… became a good person.” The laugh left Jamie’s eyes. “You became thoughtful, and considerate and just as bloody talented as well.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Let me finish!” I snapped, harsher than I meant to. I cringed at my voice and brought a hand up to rub my forehead “Sorry, just… just let me finish. You became a good person, Jamie. Someone I liked being around. And Jamie I… I like you.” I swallowed hard, trying to gage his reaction. At first, he looked confused, then his confusion turned to realization, then to confusion again. “I really really like you. You made me feel comfortable and special. And I thought, after the bus and the club that maybe you liked me too?” It wasn’t a question, even though I posed it as such. “But then I overheard you talking to Keely, at the funeral, and I know you don’t which is okay. You don’t have to.” I felt myself starting to ramble, trying to ward off the tears springing into my eyes. I rubbed my eyes, trying to ward off the redness. “But Jamie, I just… I just need some time. Okay?”

I stared at him, wanting him to say something, anything, but also dreading the words that might come out of his mouth. His eyes were darting around as he tried to understand what I was saying and figure out a response. But the longer it took, the worse I felt. I was ruining it, all of it. Any relationship we might have had is completely gone now.

“(Y/N)… I-“

“No, it’s okay! It really is!” I cut him off, deciding that I did not want to hear his sympathies. “I’ll just go. I’m gonna go.”

With that, I turned around, leaving the football on the field with Jamie and headed inside. Behind me I heard Jamie let out a loud curse and the sound of the ball going flying.

…

Jamie was confused. Somehow, in the past few weeks, he had managed to chase off all the people he considered himself closest to. Keely, Roy, and now, (Y/N). He didn’t know exactly how to react to her confession. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t attracted to her. She was fit and incredibly talented. And over the past few months they had gotten incredibly close.

Then there was Man City. His dad had gotten in her face and his blood was boiling. From the look on her face, this wasn’t the first rambunctious drunk she’d dealt with and that made him even more made. But after all that, she’d still been there for him. She sat with him the whole bus ride home, even falling asleep on his shoulder. While she slept, he couldn’t help but look over her delicate features. It was so rare that he saw her so relaxed, and he was glad that he could provide a space for her to feel that comfortable.

The dance club was a mistake. His mistake. She’d been telling him about these uneventful dates she’d been going on. Dates where the guys were such idiots. He hadn’t meant to show up to the club that night, but he wanted to make sure she had a good time on her date. Then the guy had straight up ghosted her? He had to make sure she was alright. Any friend would. But then she was getting tipsy and dancing closer to him. And she just looked so good. If Colin hadn’t pulled her away, he probably would have kissed her then and there.

He was happy, so, truly happy again, at Richmond. The last time he was that happy was when he would go home to Keely at the end of the day. Then (Y/N) had hated him, and he was a big part of her unhappiness. But that feeling he had with Keely was back, even though he wasn’t spending as much time with her. He knew he was becoming the person she knew he was so maybe, some part of him, was changing for her.

That’s why he confessed his feelings for her at the funeral. After watching Rebecca’s moving eulogy, he didn’t want to wait anymore to hide his feelings away. But even after he had told Keely his feelings, things still didn’t feel right. And after that, Keely wasn’t talking to him anymore. Then (Y/N) stopped coming to our morning practices, and she wasn’t answering his texts. The only thing that had stayed the same was bloody Roy Kent and his arsehole nature. But he couldn’t even count on that to stay the same. Once he found out that he had told Keely that he loved her, Roy would kill him.

All of these thoughts rushed through Jamie’s head as he watched (Y/N) walk away. She was holding back tears, he could tell and it broke his heart to know he had caused that pain.

“Fucking HELL” He grunted, kicking the ball back down the field. He fell onto the ground throwing his legs out and covering his face with his hands.

Just then, he felt a shadow come over him and he opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the light.

“Good morning, Jamie!” Sam’s cheerful voice broke through. “Are you enjoying your nap?

Despite his mood, Jamie couldn’t help but feel a little better in Sam’s presence. “I was, until you came along.” He smacked Sam’s leg as he sat up, bringing his knees up towards his chest. Sam could tell there was something wrong with his friend and he sat down next to him leaning back on his arms to prop himself up. He watched as Jamie picked at his fingers, clearly deep in thought.

“Talk to me, Jamie,” he opened, nudging him.

“It’s all fucked, Sam,” Jamie replied, exasperated. “I’ve fucked it all up.”

Sam chuckled. “I can tell. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Wait, really?” Jamie frowned, looking seriously at Sam.

Sam smiled, shaking his head. “No, not really.”

“Oh.”

When Jamie didn’t laugh, Sam knew there was something wrong. He knew Jamie had a hard time opening up sometimes, so he deiced to get the ball rolling.

“Last night,d Edwin Akufo took me out to dinner,” He started, gaining Jamie’s attention.

“Did he really?”

Sam nodded, looking down at the grass. “He bought a whole restaurant, just so I could have a taste of home.”

“He’s really wineing and dining you, eh?” Jamie comment, giving him an encouraging nudge.

“Yeah, he is.” Sam wished he could be more enthusiastic, but he was too conflicted. “And there are a lot of positives to joining him.”

“But…” Jamie knew there was a but. Otherwise, Sam wouldn’t be looking so damn depressed right now.

Sam’s slight smile, faded. “But… something is telling me that I need to stay here.”

Jamie nodded, trying to understand. Sam situation was unique and wasn’t something Jamie could relate to. He always played close enough to home that he could return whenever he wanted to. In any case, he appreciated Sam’s honesty and compassion.

“I told Keely that I loved her, and I think I fucked everything up.”

Sam cocked his head. “You told Keely that you loved her?”

“Yah?” Jamie frowned. “Why?”

“Well, me and some of the guys had a bet on when you and (Y/N) were finally going to get together?” Sam admitted with a smile. “But I don’t think any of us thought you and Keely would get back together.”

“Me and (Y/N)?” Jamie echoed. Why was this suddenly at the top of everyone’s minds?

“Yeah! You two have been spending so much time together, we just thought that you were getting close!” Sam shrugged. “But aren’t you afraid of how Roy will react when he finds out.”

“I was sorta hoping he wouldn’t?” Jamie admitted, cringing at how it sounded.

Sam laughed. “I would maybe not plan on that. Roy and Keely are very honest with each other.”

Jamie groaned, knowing Sam was right. “I just don’t know what’s going on in me brain. It’s like you said. Something is telling me I’m wrong.”

The two boys sat in silence, reveling in the similarity of their situations. While there was an obvious answer to their problems, there was something holding them back from those decision. In this moment, Jamie wished that (Y/N) was there. He found himself wishing for her a lot recently, especially since she’d been avoiding him. He tried to think about how she would react in this situation.

First, she’d probably laugh at him. Telling him how ridiculous he was for getting himself into this situation. Then she would tell him to breath, that everything was going to be okay. Then she’d probably laugh at him some more before telling him he needed to be accountable for what he did. He was out of line for talking to Keely and telling her he loved her. He needed to come clean to Roy and apologize to Keely. Then she’d probably make him run laps just for her own amusement. But she’d end up running them with him, so he didn’t have to suffer alone.

He smiled at the thought. At her laughing at him for whatever stupid situation he’d manage to get himself into. Her laugh was like a drug to him. The first time he’d made her laugh was that day where he’d shown her the Imperial ticket. He’d made some comment about how he was looking to dye his hair ‘walnut mist’ and she’d told him that was a made-up color. But when he’d pulled up samples he’d found, she started to laugh. The sound was so beautiful he decided he wanted to make her laugh as much as possible.

Then it hit him. It was that feeling. That feeling he used to get when he was with Keely. That feeling that turned his cocky nature into a blushing mess. But he was feeling it about (Y/N) God was he really so stupid?

“I think,” He spoke, again, addressing Sam. “That you should following your feelings.” With that, he hopped up and held out a hand for Sam to take. Sam took his hand and stood up. Jamie placed his hand on Sam’s back. “But just know, mate, whatever you choose, the team is with you.”

Sam grinned at him and patted Jamie’s back in an appreciative gesture. Together the two of them walked back inside.

Jamie’s heart was racing because for the first time in a long time, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Taglist: @heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt fanfiction #enemies to lovers #angst

201 notes · View notes

natlacentral · 1 month

Text

For ‘Avatar’s’ Dallas Liu and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship ‘was the most important thing’

One of the most emotional callbacks in Netflix’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is in the music.

The fourth episode of the series, “Into the Dark,” features a flashback to a funeral. As young Prince Zuko offers his condolences to his Uncle Iroh on the death of his son Lu Ten, the score transitions into an orchestral version of the familiar melody, “Leaves From the Vine.” The song, first heard in the animated “Avatar” series, has long been associated with the Fire Nation general’s grief.

“That wrecked me,” said Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who portrays Iroh in the new live-action adaptation, now streaming.

“I only just heard the [new] song in December,” added Dallas Liu, who plays Zuko. “I started imagining our scene and [it] killed me.”

The live-action “Avatar” co-stars were in high spirits as they discussed the show and their characters’ relationship over coffee at a West Hollywood hotel earlier this month. (This reporter borrowed a page from Iroh’s book on the joys of spending time with fascinating strangers and opted for tea.)

Both actors say they are big fans of the animated series, which originally aired from 2005 to 2008 on Nickelodeon. More than once they mentioned the high bar set by the original show and the responsibility they felt to honor its spirit (a previous attempt was not well received), especially because everybody else on set loved the show, too.

“Not even just me and Paul,” Liu said. “Our cast members, our writers, even our transportation and craft [services] team.”

“Avatar” is set in a world inspired by Asian and Indigenous cultures, where certain people have the power to manipulate elements through a martial arts-infused ability known as bending. The original series was the rare children’s cartoon that touched on weighty topics such as war, genocide and imperialism within a fantasy coming-of-age story of a young hero destined to save the world.

“Zuko is a character that I’ve always loved since my childhood,” said Liu of the exiled Fire Nation prince. He is desperately searching for the Avatar — a special bender reincarnated into every generation tasked with maintaining harmony in the world — in order to win his father’s approval and a way back home.

Accompanying Zuko on his mission is Iroh, a renowned general and former heir to the crown who’d spent years at the front lines of the Fire Nation’s ongoing war to conquer the other nations.

Iroh “seems very jovial, but you know there is way more to him than that,” Lee said. “He carries a profound sense of sadness and loss.”

Working within a franchise with a passionate fanbase is nothing new for Lee, who has appeared as New Republic pilot Captain Carson Tevain several recent “Star Wars” series including “Ahsoka” and “The Mandalorian.” But getting cast as Iroh has offered the “Kim’s Convenience” actor a chance to take on the challenge of portraying a character that is already well-loved.

For Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship “was the most important thing to get right.”

“It’s such a backbone to [Zuko’s] story arc,” Lee said. “To his pursuit and where he starts and where he ends.”

Because while “Avatar” is a story that follows Aang (Gordon Cormier), the world’s last airbender, as he figures out how to embrace his destiny and become the hero he is meant to be, it’s also a story about the teens in Aang’s orbit carving out their own paths.

Knowing this, Liu appreciated that their “Avatar” explores Zuko and Iroh’s past a earlier than it was revealed in the animated show. While there are some hints, it’s not until the second season that the animation digs into the Fire Nation royal family’s (dysfunctional) backstory. And some flashback scenes, like Lu Ten’s funeral, are original to the adaptation.

“I was excited because there was no expectation for it already,” Liu said. “I think there are scenes and dialogue [from the animated show] that people are going to look for with a certain level of expectation. But for everything that is new for Zuko on our show, it allowed me to be an artist and be creative.”

These moments were blank canvases Liu relished. He explained that to prepare for the younger version of Zuko in these flashbacks, he took hints from what he learned from his time on “PEN15” watching creators Maya Erskine and Anna Conkle portray middle-school versions of themselves.

“I think I got to tap into that younger side of my own self because I do see similarities between myself and Zuko,” said Liu. “Especially 14-year-old Zuko because there’s no ounce of evil in him.”

Iroh is despondent at Lu Ten’s funeral, as a procession of guests stop by to express their sympathies for the death of his only child. When it’s his turn, Zuko only offers the sentiments that are expected of him at first. But then he shares more heartfelt words as he tries to console his uncle. It’s one of the show’s earliest looks at Zuko’s humanity and capacity for love.

“Dallas does some really, really beautiful work at that funeral scene,” Lee said. “That speech that he delivers is just so heartbreakingly beautiful and comforting. He does all the heavy lifting. I just needed to react to what he was giving me.”

Not for the first time, Liu is quick to respond to the compliment by expressing his own appreciation for everything he learned from Paul during their time together on set.

“Especially that scene, and in a lot of our other emotional scenes, I can’t stress how much I actually relied on Paul,” Liu said. “He was always there every day to support me with honestly all of our scenes.”

Equally charming was when Liu tried to credit Iroh’s influence as the reason why Zuko is able to open up, for one brief moment, with Aang during another episode. Lee is quick to point out that Zuko’s compassion was something already within him from when he was younger, as seen in the flashback scenes.

Lee is aware that “Avatar” fans have wondered whether he would sing “Leaves From the Vine” on the series. It was first featured in Season 2 of the animated “Avatar” in an episode that shows Iroh singing the song through tears after he sets up a small memorial for Lu Ten on his birthday. (That segment was dedicated to Mako, Iroh’s original voice actor, who had died before the episode aired.)

“I didn’t want to spoil anything … but I knew that one scene was coming up,” Lee said. It’s one of the reveals that leads to “everybody look[ing] at Zuko differently. I love that. This adaptation, it really is about subtext, past experiences, traumas, success, failures, all of that stuff.”

Both Liu and Lee hope that their Zuko and Iroh will get to continue on their journey.

“What I love about their relationship is, Iroh is there to give advice, but he never tells [Zuko] what to do,” Lee said. Zuko’s “got to find his own way, and he supports him. … I really do wish [we get] to do more [seasons], because I want to see that relationship flourish even more.”

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #netflix atla #atla netflix #avatar netflix #avatar the last airbender #la times #article #dallas liu #paul sun hyung lee #interview

49 notes · View notes

nexility-sims · 4 months

Text

𝐍𝐎. 𝟗 (𝟐/𝟐) ❛ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 ❜ | NAKAWE PALACE, DEC. 1990

❧ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Leonor had been a silent observer of her parents’ marriage for as long as she could remember. Endlessly, like an infinite spool, it unraveled. That was how she understood it: her mother spun, but she never reached an end. Leonor hadn't wanted to cast her father as a villain, but she knew his fingers were the ones tugging and yanking and pulling the thread. Those parental arguments were integral to the soundscape of her childhood. She could close her eyes and hear their voices still locked in a discordant, overlapping loop—muffled, underwater. Of course, sometimes they did argue in the open. They all behaved in a choreographed fashion when that happened. The children shrunk and quieted; the parents grew loud and frenetic. The setting didn’t matter. Her parents could fight over breakfast, in the gardens, in cars and planes, on the telephone, as they arrived at events or departed them. They bickered in public on rare occasions. On the most infamous of such occasions, they shouted, shoved, slapped.

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

❧ can you believe it ????? that's a wrap on episode one !!!!! come sunday, we're moving on to episode two .... of twenty, lmao. sure this is very unfortunate and sad but i think it's also very fun and cool that leonor broke up with her boyfriend in this room then had a romantic evening with her other boyfriend in this room many years later

The causes for arguments varied, but Leonor suspected an underlying flaw: they were meant to be apart but couldn’t escape each other. Her mother had ritualized throwing away her ring. She would rip it from her finger and send it clattering. A new fight began, invariably, because she made a show of it. Still, it would come back. ‘ It’s a piece of you, ’ Rodrigo would say, somehow earnest in his self-satisfaction. ‘ It has a piece of your spirit. It will return to you like your animal. ’ Safya had not been a true believer all of the time, but that resonated with her as it did with Leonor, ever an eavesdropper. Marriage was sacred and, anyway, they shared blood. Safya’s spirit was in the ring she wore, and it would—like any animistic entity, a dog or a monkey or a vulture—find her wherever she went. And, even if the ring lost its power, their children never would.

Her father accepted desultory exiles away from the estate when the ring went away and yet, within a fortnight, with the children who bore their blood as witnesses, it returned. They reconciled. Her mother had her own saying during those reunions: ' I loved you once. I'll love you again. I'll always love you. '

On the night Safya died, Rodrigo called his daughter on a police telephone. He wept as he spoke. Leonor would have demanded to come to the marina, but he asked it of her first. It was his devastation that greeted her upon arrival. Standing in the doorway of the car, he shielded her from the flashbulbs. They walked with arms interlocked toward the silent crowd at the harbor’s edge. At the time, Leonor had been in a daze as she heard his voice in her ear. It occurred to her later that he had been murmuring, broken and desperate, ‘ I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Nora. I’m sorry. I’m sorry— ’

TRANSCRIPT:

[L] There you are.

[A] I came as fast as I could.

[L] I want to talk, but I’m not sure what to say. [A] Nerves? We don’t have to talk.

[L] No, we do. Before the funeral. [A] Sure.

[L] I’m grateful for you. Really, I am. You’ve been so kind.

[A] You don’t have to thank me. I love you. [L] Don’t tell me that. [A] What? It’s true. I— [L] Can I continue?

[L] Last night, this morning, whenever it was, I was thinking about my parents—about what I would have changed in mama’s life.

[L] Please don’t.

[L] Thinking about them made me think about us. I decided that I don’t want there to be an “us” anymore. [A] I don’t understand. What does that mean?

[L] We have to break up. I need to be alone. [A] What? Why? [L] Please don’t make me repeat it. [A] Leonor, this doesn’t make any— [L] {tearfully} Please.

[A] Okay. [L] You’ll go? [A] I won’t argue with you. Certainly not today.

[A] And, I won’t attend. If you want to talk later— [L] I don’t think I will, but thank you. [A] I’ll pray for you. For her.

{Footsteps receding}

{Leonor sobs}

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #ts4 royalty #sims 4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal family #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.ep01

57 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 2 months

Text

Gale Reviews: Netflix Avatar: the Last Airbender (Book 1)

(Thanks @knightsweeties for this cute GP)

Now I have AVOIDED looking at spoilers, and opinions of others until After I had made my own conclusions.

A lot of people are mixed on this series. With only one thing being consensus:

The last airbender movie < Netflix Avatar the last Airbender < Avatar the last Airbender

Aside from that, opinions have been all over the places. On how great or how bad the show is.

I will be going over my thoughts on it in the following categories.

The Action (fight scenes)

The Effects (from bending, CGI, and costumes)

The characters

The Plot

The changes

Does it capture the Spirit?

How does it stand on its own?

Conclusions.

(Spoilers below, but let’s get Right into it)

____________________________________________

The Action

So I’m going to say this. The action in this series is great. In my opinion it’s the strongest point in the series.

The battles from invasions, to simple one on one fights are very well done, some aspects even surpassing the original. Like the invasion of the Northern Water Tribe, you really feel the place is under attack.

And the bending battles are pretty gorgeous. It’s impressive to see the fight between Katara and Paku done serviceable well.

Though one flaw is the fact that sometimes showing the fight or attack actually took away from the impact of story beats done in the original. Seeing the attack on the Air Nomads actually took something away from it. Seeing Aang discover that horror is much less impactful.

And seeing Zuko fight in his Agni Kai against his Father also took a lot of bite from the scene. If Zuko never fought back it would have been so much more traumatic.

But they were still good fighting scenes.

Solid 9/10

____________________________________________

The Effects.

The Costumes in this are Gorgeous! Especially Kyoshi warriors. The characters mostly look as if taken straight from the cartoon. The Face stealer himself being ABSOLUTELY HORRIFYING to look at in Live action. He is a sleep paralysis demon.

Appa and Momo both look great. The effects of the cities, and the blending are beautiful.

The bending also looks pretty clean. Though I admit the water bending was a bit lacking but the Fire looked ESPECIALLY fierce.

There is so much detail jam packed in this it’s amazing.

Though, I will say that it’s not flawless, some of the things do come off a touch goofy. But that could be more of uncanny valley with some of the bending.

8/10

___________________________________________

The Characters

And it wouldn’t be Avatar without the Characters in it.

And before we do anything, let me say, ALL of the characters look like the character they are playing. It’s like Netflix genetically modified them to Look like the character.

Dallas James Liu’s Portrayal of Zuko is PERFECT. Matching Season 1 Zuko’s personality to a T.

Zuko actually gets more development and his relationship with Iroh and the Crew are expanded upon more. That Funeral scene with him and Iroh broke my heart.

Maria Zhang’s Suki is also an incredible performance.

DANNY PUDI AS The Mechanist. (They cast Abed!) that was a fun surprise.

But now that we talked about what I loved about the characters… now to get to the negatives.

Aang feels so mopey. Yes Aang has his sad moments. But instead of being a hyper optimist with a penchant for fun, he is more like a depressed kid that has occasional bits of being a kid. I don’t blame the Actor, I just feel it’s more the writing

But if Aang got a downgrade in character, Katara was SHREDDED to practically nothing. The strong yet caring Katara was so… Passive. Even her big moment fighting Paku felt so… lack luster. It pained me to see this girl who was so strong come off so… passive.

Sokka did lose a chunk of character and development, but it wasn’t AS detrimental as one would believe. It’s still cruddy. But there was some stuff added that helped cushion the blow.

Appa and Momo were not as present because expenses (but at least they were fine)

King Bumi is dead. I don’t know WHAT was the plan behind Bumi, but this felt so… twisted and off. This isn’t the Bumi that taught Aang the lesson about how not everything is as it seemed. It hurt me to see such an accurate look be so inaccurate.

Azula and her friends felt like a down grade. I know what they were trying to go for. But I just didn’t feel that EDGE she had. It felt so.. pitiful.

On a positive

Jet and his team were still fun and a bit psychotic.

Ozai actually coming off as more competent.

And Admiral Zhao being incompetent yet super Egotistical was a change I welcome.

The bounty hunter Jun, flirting with Iroh was a change I wasn’t expecting but loved.

The Face Stealer may have looked more terrifying… but his actual action was mid… aside from the nightmares.

The rest of the character acting was a mix.

I gotta put this at… 5/10

When most of the main cast feels so bland it really takes away from the story.

____________________________________________

The Plot

So the season still follows the general plot of Book 1 of ATLA.

Katara and Sokka find the Avatar who got frozen for a long time. They go travel to help Aang find a Waterbending master so he can start learning to bend and save the world.

Now interestingly since it only has 8 episodes it sort of Blends together several plots into one episode. And this causes a lot of changes… and the effects of it are… well… a mixed bag at best and almost completely undefinable at worst.

Episode 4 being especially messy.

Now there are additions and changes from the original because of the constraints of Live Action.

Like not specifying that Aang has been gone 100 years, and actually changing certain story beats to references in order to save on time.

In some cases, it’s understandable. In facts being a one to one retelling would be boring.

The problem is that the story feels more like it’s pushing the characters rather than the characters pushing the story. Aang had agency, but now there is even more forced Agency.

I did like the changes that made the fire nation more competent. (I’ll discuss further in the next section)

But overall, I felt that the story was speed blitzed and super monologue heavy at its worse. It’s nothing incoherently awful. But it’s very lacking.

4/10

_________________________________________

The Changes

There were a Lot of changes done to this in comparison to the original series. So for this. I decided to make a new system.

I will list the change. If you see this Symbol (+) it’s a change I am fine with. If you see (-) it’s a change I didn’t like. And if you see (\) it means I’m indifferent to it.

-Fire Lord Sozin wiped out Air benders in person (/)

- Aang got lost in a storm by accident, not actively running away (-)

- Katara and Sokka lose the feminist development (-)

-No penguin sledding (- -)

-No Haru (-)

-Avatar Kyoshi take over (+)

-Zuko has a journal about the Avatars (+)

- Jet in Omashu (/)

-Teo and his father in Omashu (+)

-Bumi is jaded. (-)

-Secret tunnel early (-) (it’s weird that Sokka and Katara go in there, there is more I don’t like but I will just leave that out for now)

-The Funeral for Iroh’s son. (+++)

-The Agni Kai with Ozai was changed (-)

-The crew of Zuko is revealed to be the division that would have been sacrificed. (+)

-Aang never Water bends (-)

-Azula’s whole character alteration, and earning the blue flames (-)

-Less Serious Roku (-)

-Koh’e whole deal (-)

- Zhao’s death is different. (-)

-Yue having a bigger connection to Sokka (+)

-Fire nation demonstrates far more competence (+)

There are more but most of them I’m more understanding because of Time Constraints.

I will give credit that a lot of the changes I didn’t like but they did try something.

3/10

______________________________________

Does it capture the Spirit?

This is where I have to say Kind of.

When you see the references, Cameos, and the small details. You can tell there is some love for the original series. The attention to details and the bending choreography is gorgeous and Almost seamless.

It’s where we get to the core of the show that feels different.

For example. The Netflix version of One piece. There are a TON of differences, but the core of the characters felt the same. The spirit of the show was still clear. It was handled with love.

With this series, I can say there is a respect for ATLA, but the core seems to have a different focus.

So I put this at 5/10

As there are some things that you can see have reverence, but other things that don’t.

_________________________________________

Conclusion.

The stark defenders of the show say you shouldn’t compare it to the Original because it will seem worse. While also then comparing how much better it is compare to the live action movie.

Here’s the truth, if you watched ATLA, you are not going to expect this show to be better than the original.

If you didn’t watch the original show, you would probably be entertained, and since this show explains basically everything, you won’t need to know as much as the viewer going in… but there is also a lot going on.

If you were to go in and watch this show with 0 understanding of the show. I’d say 6 maybe 7 out of 10.

But if you are a fan that cares about the show. I have to put it at 5/10

And that’s where I put it.

5/10

It is watchable, but I’m not absolutely smitten with it.

I’m willing to give book 2 a chance… but I’m iffy. On it.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #natla spoilers #avatar the last Airbender live action #atla live action #Gale reviews

39 notes · View notes

mxcrayon · 6 months

Text

thoughts on max jagerman from npmd:

the fact that when he died NOBODY gave a shit, except for how it was going to affect the game. like yes he was a terrible person and fucked in the head and yes this is a comedy and their obsession with the game is hilarious but it also makes me sad knowing that he was also a kid and he was BRUTALLY killed and literally nobody cared. nobody. bully or not, this was a child who got impaled through the chest and then hacked into bits and buried beneath the floorboards, and the ONLY thing anybody had to say about it was "we won't let this affect the game!!" and from the sounds of it nobody outside the school was even aware of how shitty he was. they just didn't care

also the way he gets SO into singing "who will pray for me when i'm gone? or is this the eternal dark without a dawn?", and the fact that "is this the eternal dark without a dawn?" makes NO sense in relation to richie so i definitely think he was talking about himself and how he was literally trapped in this afterlife of bloodlust. like the mayor said, this is all he is now, there's no point reasoning with him. it's not like he'd made the decision to kill anybody but his spirit was reduced to this all bc of the house, so its not like dudes at peace

the worst we saw him do when he was alive was hit a dude and flick someone in the balls and then he was murdered, forgotten, and doomed for eternity, and he was EIGHTEEN

heathers the musical's prom or hell rly encapsulates this feeling i think, which takes place after ram and kurt's funerals (image down below)

EDIT: I JUST HAD A FUCKING REVELATION. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

oh my god. okay. i was watching will branner performing this song, when hes singing the aforementioned bit ("who will pray for me when i'm gone? or is this the eternal dark without a dawn?") i was thinking to myself "that doesn't really make sense with richie", which is what led me to make this post. HOWEVER. however however i ALSO realized that he's fully facing away from richie, he's not singing to him anymore, which was my supporting evidence.

now. this is the next bit: "who will pray for you when your body's gone? this is the consequence for what you've done!" NOW. this DOES make sense with richie, who is being killed for what he did to max. so i didn't think much of it before. BUT when max says, "this is the consequence for what you've done!" hes STILL FACING AWAY. and more than that, he's looking at himself in whats almost horror, holding out his arms and staring down at himself. go watch it its actually devastating

i think that the whole fuckin part is about himself. "who will pray for me when i'm gone? or is this the eternal dark without a dawn? who will pray for you when your body's gone? this is the consequence for what you've done." is about max jagerman in its entirety and i think some part of him is recognizing that he is in hell and that he is to blame for it.

i rest my case.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #starkid #max jagerman

107 notes · View notes

lozplayer · 1 year

Text

Twst Ghost Prefect!

hi this is based off a dream i had last night sorry if its bad :3

also its sad then kinda ok then sad then ok again then sad but its not as bad at the end. mentions of car crashes and blood.

His brother, Ortho, had rushed in to give him the news. You, Ramshackle's Prefect had died? After dealing with so many overblots, a car accident is what took you out. There was an email sent out to everyone, telling about your demise. The school went into mourning, as not a soul there disliked you. Despite not leaving his room, he composed himself to attend your funeral, only to then hole himself up even more.

Two days later, he was playing the multiplayer game the two of you would play. He heard a ping-one to signal that someone else had joined the game. This confused him, as he was playing on your shared private server. He clicked the margins to see YOUR username in green, saying you were online. His face paled and he started to panic. Ortho came in, concerned by his brother's increased heart rate. When he showed Ortho the screen, he was confused to see your username gone. This was one of many peculiar instances.

Heartslaybul students rumored about the prefect's spot, left open in honor, would suddenly have the napkin dirty during tea parties, or how the drink in their cup would vanish, as if someone unseen was drinking it.

The Tweels in the Mostro Lounge swear the tables would clean themselves, like someone was helping them.

Pomfiore students could bet on the scent of your very unique perfume, always the most strong around what were your favorite parts of campus.

And during late and lonely nights in Scarabia, Kalim could swear he felt an odd warmth whenever he broke down into his racking sobs over your death.

Now you were arguably the most upset. Absolutely distraught by how your consciousness remained and how no one heard your voice, you had no way of getting out your emotions. What bewildered you and frustrated you even more was how Eliza and the literal other ghosts in Ramshackle didn't even notice you. You were left with one way of getting your emotions out-haunting.

It started simple, really. Just with the aforementioned instances above. While those were harmlessly interacting with your beloved friends, it failed to nullify your angst. What started to send NRC students into their own dismay, was when little car models were suddenly everywhere. No one knew where they come from, but they were in every possible place: dorms, classrooms, rose mases, even the VIP room at the lounge. Soon the little toys became busted up, and splattered with red paint, feigning blood. People pointed fingers at Heartslabyul, as they had the most red paint to obey the Queen of Heart's rules. Soon later, graphic images of car wrecks were plastered onto blackboards in the classroom. The staff was appalled, and demanded whoever drew them to fess up immediately. Unfortunately, there was no one to catch.

As the years went on, stories of your spirit became just stories. You stopped with the violent imagery and stuck with the pleasant interactions with your old peers. While your pitiful spirit remained tethered to the campus, you always tried to find the silver lining, especially when your favorite immortal Diasomnia students came to visit as alumni. You always watched over generations of your friends. Though their spirits had passed over to a new life, you never did get any clarity as to why you remained. Even in the end, despite the wonderful person you were, you were damned to this inescapable form for all eternity.

#twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst x ghost reader #twst x yuu angst #twst x yuu #twst imagines #twisted wonderland

159 notes · View notes

princess-of-thebes-1995 · 1 month

Text

A New Life

Two Shot. Part 1.

Yandere! Neteyam Sully x Human! Reader x Loak Sully.

It was hard to believe your eyes as you stared blankly of the funeral rituals of the Ocean Navi.

That's right. The funeral of your Mate. Or in human regulations. Your late husband. Neteyam Sully. The mighty warrior who sacrificed his life for the safety of his siblings.

Once more.

And it got him killed at a young age.

Barely an adult.

Almost a father.

You were expecting his first half breed child. You made history as the first human to soon soon birth a new specimen.

Remembering when Neteyam was alive, he told you how he wanted unlimited children with you. One after another. Year after year.

His own clan.

That made you cringe. Earth was dying and needed resources. Vegetation and natural food especially was in dire need. As a doctor to study edible plants. Steal them and grow them in Earth. But, fate had other plans. You must have caught the attention of Neteyam. Perhaps because you can breath the Pandora air without a mask. Your mutant genes made you exceptionally healthy and beautiful.

You never expected you would commit beastiality with your kidnapper.

Neteyam was kind to you. But, he got fed up with your attitude and rebelliousness to run away. So, he would reluctantly beat you.

As expected, he broke your spirit. And eventually, you became pregnant with his baby.

Neteyam knew you wouldn't abandon or hate any child of yours no matter who the father was. He took advantage.

You couldn't go back to the RDA. Your baby will go to the scientists and studied and imprisoned for the rest of its miserable life.

No. That is cruel.

And if you did leave your child with Neteyam, he will be bullied by the other Navis and your parents will disown you for bringing disgrace upon the family once they find out.

The thought of your child being motherless and a freak will cause it to have mental illness and sadness. You didn't want that. The love you had for your weird child made you stop attempting to leave your capturer.

You bitterly bid good bye to Earth.

Your new life began. Like an empty shell, you let Neteyam thrust into you. You responded to his kisses and closed your eyes. Pretending he was someone else to moan.

Neteyam was no fool. He wanted you to naturally love him and forgive him.

He was mean to you. But, you were mated with him by the decree of the Great Mother.

You told him that you were hated by many. Women out of envy. And the men tried to use you for carnal desires only.

Neteyam tried to tell you he loves you despite being a foreigner and odd. But, you were betrayed before and had trust issues. You were so stupid. Neteyam rolled his eyes. Screw it. He beat you and ignored the pain in his heart.

Then finally, he tamed you in your womb.

When his father's enemies came back as Navis, of course, he made you come with him to the ocean tribes.

He could say good bye to his friends and Grandma but not you or his future unborn child.

Neteyam had it worst than the others in his family. His mate was a demon.

Protecting you was harder than he did in the forest. He was no longer the son of the chief. But, a normal citizen.

No respect.

As the months dragged, Neteyam watched you swell more.

You wished either you and your baby die or him.

God answered your prayers. But... Some strange reason... You weren't happy he was dead

In fact, you wished you died with him.

What have you become?

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #navi #pandora #loak sully #loak

44 notes · View notes

baberoe-archive · 1 month

Text

hiiiii everyone im going to make you look at art <3 okay <3

first up we got two photos from august sander's people of the twentieth century, a decades long project he never finished aimed at identifying and organizing the "types" of people in early twentieth century germany. in photos for this project he usually identified people along socio-economic and geographic lines. on the left we have officer, world war i, cologne (1914) and on the right we have boxers, cologne (1928). museum had a bunch of sander on display and they paired it with the shortcut to the systematic life: superficial life (2002) by tsui kuang-yu, which is outside the scope of this post but super interesting so i encourage everyone to look it up lol

up next: the junkers officer (1934) by george grosz, another artist associated with neue sachlichkeit/new objectivity. im not well versed in german art but recently i have been so intrigued by leftist art of the weimar republic and it felt simply serendipitous. unfortunately by the time i saw this the museum was closing in 15 minutes so i had to rush out </3 SAD

this is air war (1944) by ralston crawford. first time i heard of this artist! during wwii he served as chief of the visual presentation unit of the weather division of the army air corps in washington dc and southeast asia.

negro soldier (1945) by robert smullyan sloan. sloan was drafted in 43 and illustrated army educational materials and posters for war bonds. the wall label says the title was given by the artist, which makes me think sloan didn't personally know this guy, which makes me very curious about the circumstances of its production. no name is given to the sitter, but he served in the european-african-middle eastern campaign in the army and was awarded a good conduct medal. sloan has a drawing at the met (station hospital [1943-44] ), but unfortunately i can't find much else about him online that might help contextualize this painting.

i think it pairs really well with this horace pippin from 1943 called mr. prejudice. pippin served in wwi with the harlem hellfighters, and the soldier at center might be a self portrait. he has a pretty good amount of paintings about the war actually -- i normally associate him with landscapes for some reason, though i think thats just because the pippin at my local art museum is a landscape lmao. his illustrated war journals are digitized at the archives of american art if you want to check it out!

up next are some pieces of interest that i want to share but about which i otherwise have little to say

L: untitled (military maneuvers at an abandoned mine) (1940-42) by harry gottlieb

R: italy goes to war (1941) by arthur dove

L: christ before pilate (1949) by david aronson. wall text wants us to note the soldier's helmet is german

R: the funeral (1949) by francisco dosamantes

ending with this delightful 1914 the wrestlers by henri gaudier-brzeska, whom the label quotes as saying, "i went to see the wrestlers -- God! i have seldom seen anything so lovely... they fought with amazing vivacity and spirit, turning in the air, falling back on their heads, and in a flash were up again on the other side, utterly incomprehensible." something about wrestling/boxing that make men gay as fuck. beautiful

15 notes · View notes

sl-newsie · 2 months

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 8: Money Buys Power

“Knock knock.”

The voice stirs me awake, having fallen asleep while doing embroidery before bedtime. In the blurry light I see Thomas standing in the doorway. Is it a trick of the light, or is…?

My eyes widen. “Oh my God! Tommy, your face- you’re covered in blood!” I bolt upright and rush over to get a better look. Strangely the gangster does not seem disturbed.

“It’s not mine,” he replies as he takes my hands to calm me down.

“Dear Lord… Danny?”

He nods.

My head starts spinning. “Oh God… Will he have a funeral?”

Thomas squints. “Not exactly. But I’m not worried about that now. What matters now is the supply of guns. Actually, I’m- What is it you call it? A ‘bit of a pickle’ myself. You know those guns I told you about?”

“Yes.”

He gets a sly grin. “They’re not mine. They were sent by mistake on account of a few drunk idiots. Now the Crown’s looking for ‘em, which poses a threat to us. But I won’t give them back without something in it for the Peaky Blinders.”

That’s it. That’s why everyone’s been so on edge! Thomas, Campbell… It’s all a power scheme. A challenge for one to outwit the other.

“Oh, I get it. The whole ‘I’ll never reach Heaven, why not raise a little Hell’ bit?”

Thomas rubs some caked blood off his coat. “Something like that.”

“Here. Allow me.” I take out my handkerchief and start to dab the red smears off his face. “I thought you were supposed to dispose of the guns?”

“I changed my mind.”

By God I want to slap him. “Are you crazy? You must be crazy, ‘cause that’s one-a the craziest things I’ve ever heard in my life!”

Thomas laughs and pats my shoulder. “I love it when you get animated. Your accent gets thicker.”

I gawk at his laid-back mannerism. “Since when does my accent have anything to do with the fact that you’re stubborn enough to keep stolen artillery?!” I hiss.

“If they want it they’ll have to pay," Thomas replies coolly.

I was wrong. It’s not just about power. Money buys power. Money. It's a crime. Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie. Money, so they say, is the root of all evil today. (Pink Floyd)

I lightly smack Thomas with the handkerchief and put my hands on my hips. “Money? This whole plot is about money? When will enough be enough for you Shelbys?” I point a warning finger. “You’re stubborn. And your arrogance is going to bring you, your family, and everything you care about crashing down on your head.”

“Are Americans always this cocky with their employers?” Thomas asks in a mysterious tone. “It’s a rich man’s world, love. You can’t help it as much as I can.”

There’s no use trying to change his mind. So instead I finish cleaning up what blood I can and pivot to walk back to bed.

“If you woke me up only to scare me with blood and murder then please leave.”

“Well, there’s some good news. Monaghan Boy won.”

The new subject of the gorgeous horse lifts my spirits. “He did? Congratulations!”

Thomas scoffs. “Arthur didn’t seem too happy. Just had to shoot my dear friend and he comes up raging about a bloody horse.”

Something’s up. Thomas speaks of killing a friend but he doesn’t look sad in the slightest. Instead he’s looking around the room at my few belongings; probably trying to determine my social status in America.

“Then why do you look happy instead of someone who’s supposed to be grieving?”

Thomas turns around wearing a devilish smirk. This intrigues me. It’s as if he expects me to decipher a clue-

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” He shakes his head. “Why? How?”

Thomas points to his head. “Sheep brains, darling. Made it look real convincing. Another magic trick, if you will.”

Even under that cold shell there is a sliver of compassion in Thomas Shelby.

A smile finds its way to my face and I walk over to pat his shoulder in respect. “I knew there’s still good in you, Thomas. Someday you will too.”

For some reason Thomas is confused by this but doesn’t question further. Instead he gets a certain look in his eye that tells me he’s thinking up a new idea. A few seconds of silence go by but I don’t mind. A quiet conversation of eye contact tells me twice as much as a whole hour of useless dialogue. I must say that I’ve started growing a tolerance to his icy gaze.

“If you’re up for it, we’re going out for a drive to the country tomorrow,” Thomas finally speaks.

“Is this for Peaky Blinders only? Why ask me?”

The gangster simply shrugs. “I thought you could do with some time away from this dusty place. Just a suggestion, so if you don’t wanna-”

“Are you bonkers?” I grin. “That sounds perfect. When do we leave?”

Thomas is intrigued by my interest. “7 am, bright and early. So it’s best to get some shut eye.” He wants to say more but stops. I shouldn’t push it, especially if he’s starting to warm up to me. Thomas may be a kind person when he wants to be but he’s still my boss. And now-

Now he takes my hand and presses a quick kiss to my wrist before tipping his hat in parting.

“Good evening, Ms. Steenstra,” Thomas mutters as he exits the room.

“Sleep well, Mr. Shelby,” I reply as I shut the door.

That man is a complicated puzzle if I ever saw one. One minute he speaks of murder and money, the next he’s discussing a drive in the country. And to say that I wasn’t touched by his goodnight kiss would be a serious understatement. It’s not every day that a fella takes the effort to pull off a charm like that, especially for a background nobody like me. Granted, father’s tried to set me up for courting with a few associates of the family but I never wanted to settle down. I still don’t. Do I? I- No. No I do not. I’m here to teach Finn, and that’s what I am going to do.

Before my mind can spin anymore outlandish ideas I climb under the covers.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord, my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord, my soul to take.”

If only Thomas could see there’s more to life than a mad scramble for power.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #grace burgess #pink floyd

18 notes · View notes

bluerskiees · 2 years

Text

RYUUGUJI KEN FLUFF HEADCANONS ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

• Loves doing your hair.

• Buys you food with a flag along with mikey's.

• Probably has a lot of vids and pics of you.

• Adores the way you look so small compared to him.

• Teases you because you're short.

• Teaches you to fight because he doesn't want anything happening to you when he's not around.

• Teaches you some hacks like how to fix your bike etc..

• Would love to carry you on his back.

• Tsundere. Wouldn't let you know he likes you until he actually confesses.

• Hard Dom but likes soft sex.

• Cuddles are a must.

• He takes you and mikey out a lot.

• Did mikey get tooo close to you? Here comes the jealousy.

• Y/N: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

DRAKEN : If?

MIKEY: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and they might not even die.

• DRAKEN, looking at the mirror stressed: My life is in the hands of an idiot!

MIKEY, motioning to himself and Y/N: No no no no no, TWO idiots!

• He definitely fucks you in his bike darling. In an open field.

• Would act annoyed everytime you and mikey do some silly shits but would secretly love it.

• Loves your smile more than anything.

• And if he was the cause of it? Baby, you're giving him diabetes. Its too sweet for him to handle.

• You and mikey stole his bike's keys and blackmailed him to walk in heels for a day to get it back.

• He fell. Almost broke his ankle but atleast you both enjoyed.

• Loves you homemade cooking. Since he didn't have a mother who cooks for him growing up, he genuinely loves it.

• Tries his best to not get hurt during fights because he doesn't wanna make you sad.

• Would buy a maid outfit for your bday.

• Loves it when you calls him daddy.

• If he was an emoji, he'd be "🐉"

< a dragon symbolizes supernatural power, wisdom, passion,strength, and hidden knowledge. Guess who else posses the same qualities ? DRAKEN. Draken is usually straightforward, not afraid to voice out his opinions yet being sympathetic about others emotion. He's strong yet he needs someone to lay his down on. Draken isn'tafraid to take risks when its about his friends. Just like a dragon, draken too has an unwavering spirit. And honestly, I think there's no other animal that would match his personality other than the majestic, royal dragon >

• Absolutely done with the shits you and mikey do. But what if u get into a problem? Draken is there travelling at a 400mph to get you both out. Yeah u get an hour of scolding from him later buts it's all worth it <3

⤷ ୨🎐୧࿐ @southside-otaku

150 notes · View notes

kavasiriel · 8 months

Text

The caverns shook with the low notes of the steam organ as Vilar leaned into the foot pedals, tossing his wildly expressive mane of orange hair, eyes closed tight in rapture, tears upon his cheeks. He let his dancing hands strike the rows of lapis lazuli keys, lifting from them music both sweet and sad. The moisture from the steam glistened on his creased brow.

The cavern into which the ancient instrument was built became a sound chamber, with towering pipes set into points of harmonic resonance in the undulating basalt. The tune was a traditional one, pared to the story of an Iron elf and a sulfur elf who fell in love and bore the first spark of organic life in the universe. Originally, the melody had been a song of triumph, of joy and hope that life would endure and endure and endure even when it had never existed in the first place. But this was a new arrangement, and the familiar tune was played in a minor key so that its joy became a lamentation and the bittersweet reminder of the miraculous value of life only served to make its ending more cruel.

Kavas raised his head to appreciate the music as he ascended the long and narrow stair to his father’s favorite perch. Stepping up onto the platform from whence the vast instrument was played, Kavas stopped to watch his father. The king of Falu was unaware that he had an audience and he played with a passionate abandon, body swaying in a pendulous dance across keys which seemed to fly to his hands. He thrust his body across the many-tiered keyboards, his hands calling the notes to chase along after their lusty galloping as phrase by phrase and measure by measure he poured out his grief into the flowing keys.

As Kavas watched, the music brought to mind his own grief at the loss of his grandfather, and before that his uncle Vigi who had loved his young nephew like a son. But beyond the personal, the music represented a larger grief, a grief that echoed in his soul and had been with him all his life, the deep sense of fear and helplessness that had festered in the guts of so many of the hidden people since the coming of the prophecy. The Earth was dying, and the dark elves would play Her a requiem long after the symphony of life had passed into silence.

Vilar played the last three notes like the tolling of a funeral bell and finally stilled, breathing hard, his head bent and one finger resting on the final key, as if he could hold onto the music even after it had fled. He felt the bench shift beside him and looked up through tear-filled eyes as his son took up the position of a duetist to play the higher register.

Kavas did not speak, but into the silence after his music, he dropped a few ringing notes and looked at his father with a loving smile as he lifted his second hand to stir the keys into flowing measures. His tune, in answer to the Ballad of Iron and Brimstone was a variation of the same phrasing, lifting up the turning music into a joyful song that called to their minds the ancient, elemental memory of their spirits.

Vilar looked at his son and smiled. “They were our children,” he said, “we forgot after the prophecy, after they had done so much wrong in this world, but there was a time…” Kavas touched his shoulder and Vilar covered his hand in his own. He had no shame in his tears.

#Kavas Ivaldi #Vilar Sul #the golden wig #original fiction #elves in wigs #norse mythology #art #elves #epic poetry #poetry #painting

13 notes · View notes

yuurei-20 · 7 months

Text

GOJOHIME DRABBLE 6.0

Note: this was set after chapter 356. A self-indulgent drabble and headcanon after learning the news of this chapter. I don't know how Japanese funeral works and I wasn't able to research it, so I don't know their way of blessing a funeral and just rely on my imagination that they might be blessed in a shrine (like how in my culture are blessed in the Church by a priest during the ceremony).

Gojo's body was brought to the shrine altar and Utahime performed a ritual. Everyone were watching - watching his body be blessed to avoid turning into a cursed spirit, before the actual funeral. Suddenly, blood pooled down from Utahime. Shoko was shocked and called her out of worry. She tries to approach her but was stopped by a barrier. Why is there a barrier? Anxiety and confusion, Utahime's students also tried to pass through the barrier but was also stopped. They were shouting her name, but she still keeps going, blood still flowing out. It runs directly to where Gojo is. All of them were shocked. Shoko, still wide eyed and tears starting to apepear, was about to destroy the barrier but Ichiji stopped her. Ichiji explained to Shoko that he was the one who put up the barrier because Utahime requested it. She asked him to make it counter everyone so they won't be able to enter. Shoko told him to take it down then, but Ichiji said no. He made a binding vow with Utahime as an alternate way for him to keep him out the veil too. "WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING?? WHY IS SHE DYING??" Ichiji gulped and took a deep breath before answering Shoko, who is now enraged. "She's doing a ritual by giving her life as a way to boost Gojo-san extremely slow RCT, so that he woullld return back alive...I-I'm sorry." As Ichiji finished his sentence, Utahime's body suddenly enveloped in flames. Her body's burning.

In exchange of her life, her technique will boost to surpass its limits, to help Gojo's brain increase its RCT output.

Utahime starts to disintegrate, and said her farewell to everyone and told them to take care of him. And she turns into dust - leaving only a single bell that fell from her wrist. Its sound felt like a last farewell from her.

In the airport, Gojo stood up making his decision where to go and said "See you guys later!" As he is about to pass through the entrance of his choice, he saw a glimpse of a familiar hair color. He turned to get a clear look from it but it disappeared. He shrugged and continued his way.

The ones left in the waiting area were surprised to see who the new person that came. Geto chuckled and shakes his head, "Senpai, how can you be so cruel." Everyone around him agreed to him. She gave them a soft sad smile, "It's okay...for the sake of everyone, it has to be done. I bet he'll get himself up eventually, cause he's the srongest."

#gojohime #gouta #五歌 #late post 6.0 #this drabble is somewhat connected with drabbles 4.0 and 5.0 #because they're done chronologically

16 notes · View notes

0junemeatcleaver0 · 2 years

Text

Introduction

Clothing choices are so important in The Chronicles that Anne sometimes sounded a lot like Tara Gilesbie when describing her characters. And while cut and fabric remain fairly uniform over the series and cross-character, where the real intrigue lies is in color choice.

In this series, I will be examining the choices in wardrobe color for three of Anne's characters; Lestat, Marius, and Armand.

You may also have noticed that I did this already. The original version of this post was my return to writing meta after a very long break. I was clearly rusty, but too excited at having 'completed' a post to keep myself from posting it. This is the much improved version of this meta.

Where my last meta was a meditation on color motifs. This installment will move through the different eras of Armand's life: Amadeo, Andrei, the Coven Master, and finally, the Vampire Armand.

Armand

And all the lives I’d lived, and worlds I’d known, seemed even less substantial. What lurked beneath my fancy frills, behind my quiet unquestioning eyes? Who was I? -TVA, page 313

The Amadeo Era

Blue velvet

But in my heart there’ll always be

Precious and warm, a memory

Through the years And I still can see blue velvet

Through my tears

-Bobby Vinton || Blue Velvet

The first era of Armand’s life we’ll be discussing is of course, when he was Amadeo. And the color most associated with this time in his life is of course, blue.

On his first day in Marius’s palazzo, the other young boys dress him in cast off clothing to take him out on the town and eventually, to the tailor’s.

I was combed, trimmed and dressed in the colors he would forever choose for me, sky blue for the stockings, a darker midnight blue velvet for a short belted jacket, and a tunic of an even fairer shade of azure embroidered with tiny French fleur-de-lis in thick gold thread. A bit of burgundy there might be for trimming and fur[...] -TVA, page 49

It seems from the text that the most important thing to Marius was that Amadeo would have his own clothes that fit him properly, and that the color mattered little at that point. But his reaction to the sight of Amadeo in blue was so immediate and strong...

The following night a splendid surprise awaited me. There was my Amadeo at supper gorgeously turned out in blue velvet, as splendidly clothed as the other boys! They had hastened to complete the tailoring of his clothes to make me happy and indeed I was, almost to the point of being stunned. -B&G, pages 323-324

...that he made it a point to say this to Amadeo later that same night:

Red and red and red. It was his color, he told me, as blue was to be mine. -TVA, page 51

color-meanings.com calls blue "the color of trust and loyalty"--two qualities that would be important for Marius to instill in Amadeo. Furthermore:

Renowned for its composed demeanor, blue is a tranquil presence. It doesn't intrude or pester.

And we all know how well that turned out...

But if you're trying to raise the perfectly submissive lover, the attributes of blue would be the kind you would want t to instill in them.

Additionally, it is the hypersensitive aspect of blue that reflects Armand's inner nature most truly. The color is associated with feeling sad, after all. And this is a sadness Marius is well aware of, as we know from his diary entry on page 135 of TVA:

How can so much beauty hide such a bruised and steely heart, and why must I love him, why must I lean in my weariness upon his irresistible yet indomitable strength? Is he not the wizened funeral spirit of a dead man in child’s clothes?

And while Amadeo is angry about the phrasing of entry, he ultimately agrees:

Oh, but I couldn’t deny it; I couldn’t say it wasn’t true. (TVA, p. 136)

It is also interesting to make note of blue as understood by ancient Romans, as the color choice was ultimately made by Marius.

The reader is led to assume Amadeo is wearing blue throughout the rest of his time in the palazzo. In fact, attention is only really called towards Amadeo’s clothes after establishing his new wardrobe in this scene:

Marius had dressed for the occasion in smart dark blue velvet, with a cloak of the same color for once, which was unusual for him, and he had urged me to dress in sky blue, his favorite color for me. -TVA, p. 244

(For further analysis about the choices in color in this scene as it pertains to both Marius and Armand, see my previous meta post.)

Sky blue being a light shade of blue, obviously. Lite blue is a color that represents health and healing, as well as tranquility, understanding, and softness.

My first interpretation of the choice in blue for this scene is tied to where this scene falls on the timeline, narrative wise. They are visiting Bianca for the first time since Amadeo’s miraculous recovery. So it stands to reason that the choice of color should reflect an aura of healthfulness.

But the passage implies sky blue is a color Amadeo would dress in more frequently than just a one time PR tour. Again, I think sky blue being Marius’s favorite color for Amadeo reflects attributes he wanted to instill in Amadeo. Not just because he wanted to craft a perfectly submissive partner, but because of Armand’s past. It would be nice for Andrei/Amadeo to finally feel an uncomplicated sense of tranquility.

Hands clutched me, burning wood tumbled and roared beneath me. I was being dragged off the fire. I was being dragged across the ground. Feet stomped on my burning clothes. My burning tunic was ripped off me. I gasped for air. -TVA, p. 274

There is no way to know what color tunic Armand was wearing in this scene. The only thing that is certain is that we wouldn’t wear blue until centuries after this traumatic event.

The Andrei & Coven Master Eras

(Just to get it out of the way now; I know that Armand was the Vampire Armand when he was the Coven Master. I just needed a way to delineate between Coven Master/Theatre des Vampires Armand and post-Theatre disbanding Armand. Thank you.)

And when we come back we'll be dressed in black

And you'll scream our names aloud

And we won't eat and we won't sleep

We'll drag bodies from the ground

-Florence & the Machine || Spectrum

He dragged me so that I fell on my knees. My robe was tearing, black cloth ripping. -TVA, p. 169

He moved into the glow of the candles on the side altar. His clothes were black velvet, once beautiful, and now eaten away by time, and crusted with dirt. -TVL, p. 200

It is difficult to discuss Andrei’s life in the Monastery of the Caves without comparing the era to Armand’s time as Coven Master of the Children of Darkness under les Innocents. These periods—one incredibly short, one insufferably long—mirror each other in form, function, and color.

Andrei was taken to the monastery due to the skill of his ikon painting where his parents expected him to have as close to a career as he could have hoped and where the monks expected him to go into the earth to wait for God to decide when he should die. He—deemed unworthy due to his humanity—was to grovel for God’s love and wait for his embrace, gift for painting or no. Stripped of his identity to better be a servant of God.

Amadeo was abducted and brought into the catacombs and made to pay for the sins of his father of being too extravagant when he should have been a servant of Satan (who himself is a servant of God). He was broken down and re-indoctrinated into a warped version of Christianity (they can say they’re servants of Satan all they want—their black robes are basically just sackcloth and their dust, ashes). And once more, he is made to reside underground—this time in penance for his lack of humanity.

The color that dominates these two periods (and his time at the Theatre) is black—the color of pessimism, fear, evil, and loss. And I posit it is no accident that it is also the color of the shadows the Coven was relegated to under their laws and superstition, as well as being the color of the tomb.

For what it’s worth, the last time Lestat sees Armand in the 18th century is at the Theatre, wearing a wig and “somber” red frock coat. The last time we see him before he enters the modern era is in a literal costume.

Though one could argue he spent a lot of the modern era still in costume.

The Vampire Armand

The world is black, the world is white

It turns by day and then by night

-Three Dog Night || Black & White

So immaculate the black suit, the starched white shirt—like the imitation of a twentieth-century man. -QotD, p. 85

This is the first time Daniel lays eyes on Armand (after being trapped in his basement for three days), and he turns up in black and white—symbolically ambiguous. Appropriate, as both the reader and Daniel are uncertain what fate will befall him now that the ruthless leader of the vampire Theatre troop has him in his crosshairs.

Cue the start of The Devil’s Minion. We all know what happens from this point on, I’ll spare us all the recap. Just go reread that chapter—I know you already wanted to, anyway.

This black and white motif continues at the end of Daniel’s mortal life and the beginning of his vampiric life.

When he picks up a dying Daniel, Armand is wearing either mostly or all white. (”And yet how strangely apart from the material things touching him, the rumpled white coat and pants he wore.” -QotD, p. 104)

And when the time comes to turn Daniel, Armand imagines up for them the perfect setting, using his mind powers to conjure up for them a lush garden in Italy in which to work the Dark Trick on his lover. He also imagines a different outfit for himself:

“But how did we get here!” He turned to Armand, who stood beside him dressed in strange, old-fashioned velvet clothes. For one moment he could do nothing but stare at Armand, at the black velvet tunic he wore and the leggings, and his long curling auburn hair.-QotD, p. 111-112

He comes to Daniel rumbled, but angelic, leading him to the Rolls to perhaps spirit him off to a more comfortable place to die.

And then he’s in black—specifically what sounds like a perversion of his Amadeo get up mixed with the color of the Coven. A blending of extremes to reflect how torn he must have felt in that moment between all the love he feels for Daniel and all the sorrow he feels in knowing that he cannot allow himself to let him shuffle off that mortal coil.

All in the middle of imagined Italy.

Let’s talk about Italy for a moment.

Then the realization had come to Daniel as they stood together in the ruined dining room with its famous murals of ritual flagellation barely visible in the dark: He isn’t going to kill me after all. He isn’t going to do it. Of course he won’t make me what he is, but he isn’t going to kill me. The dance will not end like that. ”But how could you not know such a thing,” Armand had said, reading his thoughts. “I love you. If I hadn’t grown to love you, I would have killed you before now, of course.” -QotD, p. 92

A massive moment not only in Armand and Daniel’s relationship, but also in Armand’s history. Because this scene takes place in Italy. Pompeii, specifically.

What’s more:

Look at the garments he wore. Blue cotton shirt, brass-buttoned denim jacket. Where had he gotten them? Off a victim, yes, like taking out his knife and skinning the kill while it was still warm? No wonder they reeked of salt and blood, though none was visible. -TVA, p. 92

Armand follows Daniel to Italy where he lost one lover (Marius) and visited with another lover lost (Louis), where he stands in the ruins of a home dressed in all blue and smelling noticeably mortal. Part of me wonders how these factors played into his confession of love to Daniel. Not that he feels that way for him—I don’t question that at all. I’m speaking more so towards the timing. In my mind, the presence of one of this factors alone would not have been enough to force his hand (emotionally) into letting his feelings be known. But all these factors at once? I feel it’s possible that this was a moment of vulnerability for Armand.

Memnoch

There isn’t a lot to talk about in terms of what is actually in the text of this book. But metatextually? Dear god, there’s a lot to unpack.

On page 168 we see him in what will be fandom’s go-to “normal boy” costume for him—denim jacket and jeans. Not a whole lot to talk about here, other than he’s apparently (if Lestat’s description is to be trusted) dusty. The modern clothes combined with the dust creates a sort of dissonance where Armand feels as though he has one foot in the present and one in the past. He could try to be a part of the world, or apart from it depending on his mood.

And then we get his final scene—indeed, what was meant to be his actual final scene ever when Anne wrote it.

We know how it goes. He sees Veronica’s veil, is overcome (the little monk in him having never truly died), and goes into the sun to martyr himself. This is how he appeared during that scene:

I turned around, Armand had once again decked himself out in high-fashion velvet and embroidered lace, the kind of “romantic new look” one could find at any of the shops in the deep crevasse below us. His auburn hair was free and uncut and hung down in the way it used to do in ages long past, when as Satan’s saint of the vampires of Paris, he would not have allowed himself the vanity to cut one lock of it. Only it was clean, shining clean, auburn in the light, and against the dark blood-red of his coat. -MtD, p. 400

He’s wearing red in this scene. When one considers the only other time we have seen him in red was a costume (TVL, p. 323), his wearing it in what was ultimately meant to be his death scene becomes more interesting for me. He is wearing Marius’s color here.

I was having a difficult time putting words to how this makes me feel, so bare with me while I quote something @littletrouper said when I was discussing this matter with her:

“The same red velvet he saw when he believed he was dying in the brothel and then wearing that to meet meet actual God.”

When you combine the religious themes I covered in my Marius meta with the fact that red (when viewed through the lens of the quote above) for Armand signifies both freedom from death and safety in death (IE: vampirism), the detail of him wearing red in this scene becomes gut wrenching.

The Vampire Armand 2.0

I always hoped

I always hoped it would be

Be easy, half of what you are and half of me

-Warpaint || Burgundy

A funny thing happens in the time between Memnoch and TVA. As detailed in this interview, Anne claims she regretted killing off Armand. And, after being approached by fans who were disappointed by his death, decided to revive him.

And a very predictable thing happened with the writing of TVA. Anne apparently forgot what color he was wearing when he ‘died’.

This accident, though, leads to some very interesting symbology.

It was my lace, my very lace, the thick Venetian Rose Point, burnt at the edges, and with it a few shredded rags of purple-red velvet! -TVA, p. 374

And from this point onward, it’s clear that burgundy becomes Armand’s color. We see him wearing it in Prince Lestat (PL, p. 259), again in RoA (p. 216), and the final time in Blood Communion:

I looked at Armand. He was splendidly attired in burgundy velvet, himself once more, his fingers covered with jeweled rings as he clapped along with the others. (BCo, p. 254)

He died in red and was resurrected in burgundy. A color he wears consistently through the rest of his time in the Chronicles.

It’s important to take a second to consider the color itself. Burgundy is red that has been mixed with purple—itself a mix of red and blue.

We catch a glimpse of this red/blue (IE: Marius/Amadeo) mix when Armand is with Daniel. He takes a very Marius-as-Master approach to how he himself grooms Daniel, while also framing himself as Daniel’s pupil:

“You are my teacher,” Armand told him. “You will tell me everything about this century. I am learning secrets already that have eluded me since the beginning. You’ll sleep when the sun rises, if you wish, but the nights are mine.” (QotD, p. 93)

Burgundy (whether on accident or not) feels like an ultimate culmination—of everything Armand has been through and all he has learned. Of all the versions of himself he has been. Burgundy, a refined, purple-tinged red—a more mature version of Marius’s crimson. And why not? Hardships tend to teach the one suffering through them a lot, an no one has suffered through more than Armand.

Let’s look at that quote from Blood Communion again and elaborate on it a bit more:

I looked at Armand. He was splendidly attired in burgundy velvet, himself once more, his fingers covered with jeweled rings as he clapped along with the others. I could not quite believe the calm, accepting expression on his face, but then he nodded. It was just a small nod, a nod no one else would have noticed, but I saw it and I saw him smile again. -BCo, p. 254-255

This is the Armand Anne left us with. Still the same child-like mad man, still resilient, still himself. But slightly different, for the better. The Armand who was able to build a home with Louis. The Armand who was able to reconnect with Daniel. The Armand who was able to have this exchange with Lestat:

“I’ll see you tomorrow in the City of Light,” said Armand. A beat. “And I’m happy for you, that you’re with Louis.”

thatsgrowth.gif

And that would be a lovely place to end the post, but we have one more instance of Armand wearing blue and it actually serves to back up my point about burgundy symbolizing the change in Armand.

This is the only time in the later books that it is specified that he’s wearing blue velvet:

I was in my usual red velvet and lace, and Armand wore the same extravagant style in shades of blue. (RoA, p. 258)

And after such a long span of Anne describing him in either burgundy or black velvet or denim, this bit stuck out to me like a sore thumb. And then I remembered an odd instance from earlier in the book that also really stuck out to me the first time I read the book:

“Does that sound reasonable?” I turned to Armand.

He seemed unprepared for this, and glanced at Marius as if for permission to speak. Marius nodded.

”Yes,” said Armand. […] (RoA, p. 220)

By this point in the narrative, he’s buried the hatchet with most of his ex-lovers and enemies. He was able to mend his relationship with Louis at Trinity Gate. He made some sort of reparations towards Daniel. And as far as Lestat goes, well. With as contentious as their relationship has been off and on for so long, I personally believe this is as close to an apology as he could ever allow himself to make to Lestat.

So who’s left? Marius.

Now, we don’t know the mechanics of Armand’s reparations. Anne doesn’t detail his apology tour for us. But there are just enough details to make my fic writer brain to really start thinkin’.

He invited Louis into his own family. After he destroyed what was left of Louis’s own family in the most final of ways.

We hear of him going out hunting with Daniel. Like a maker might with a new fledgling. Daniel of course was changed in the middle of some very harrowing circumstances. But once the dust settled? Daniel was lost to him pretty quickly—the process of that loss, he said, having begun on Night Island after the fall of the Queen (TVA, p. 323) Armand viewed a fledgling growing to hate their maker as a foregone conclusion, and so I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume he acted out a self-fulfilling prophecy. So new Armand went on the hunt with him, an activity I assume helped to re-bond them as maker and fledgling.

And after years of spitting acid at him, Armand said something outright nice to Lestat! (Seriously, I think even if Anne lived to write twenty more books, this is the best truce we could ever get out of these two. I cannot stress that enough lol)

And so what tactic would it make sense for him to take to try to bridge the gap between him and Marius? Why, reminding him of the times they were happy together. Wearing Marius’s favorite color for him and feigning subservience.

And why doesn’t this work out?

Armand and Marius had a dreadful quarrel in which Armand demanded that the Replimoids be hunted down and annihilated, and Marius accused Armand of having the savage and ignorant soul of a child. (RoA, p. 435)

Yeah…that.

Armand makes what has been up to this point a logical response to any threat made up to this point—Your city overrun with young vampires with no home training? Kill them. One vampire kills another (especially their maker) unjustly? Kill them. We should beg Lestat to kill him. Weird ass aliens with way too much power that could easily wipe out their food source (humans)? Duh, obviously you kill them.

And what does Marius do? Dismisses him outright for being “savage” and “ignorant” and “a child” even though just one book later Marius will say this:

“Ultimately they will all disappoint you. […] Because, Lestat, you have forgotten something absolutely essential about our nature. And sooner or later they will remind you of it. […] You’ve forgotten that we are by nature killers. […] You’re trying to make us into darkling angels.” (BCo, p. 11-12)

And then spent the rest of the book pleading with Lestat to kill Rhosh.

Marius failed to see the changes in Armand. And so Armand stopped trying to (be the only one to) repair their relationship. Until, probably, Marius returns from his kidnapping.

#tvc #the vampire chronicles #anne rice #the vampire armand #vampire chronicles #my meta stuff

80 notes · View notes