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almondfish3042 · 2 years

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heartstrings (vol. 2)

What is your heart made of?

String, perhaps.

Yes, my heart is made of string.

Braided and scattered, frayed at the ends and knotted back together with hands wrinkled or smooth.

Cut with sharp, dull scissors and dyed with paints of all colours.

(With Life, and Time, and vivid Memory)

Nibbled at with anxious teeth; fiddled with by idle fingers.

Worn on thin, sun-brown wrists and in natty hair that refuses to be brushed.

(Strung into Hope, and Love, and slowly-fading Grief)

Carefully (almost-not-quite artfully) arranged. Perpetually-shifting pieces of morbid artwork –

Look, look; here’s a breath, a beat, an ounce of blood, sixty more seconds of Life.

Entangled, every other day. Turbulent thought-strings tied together, trapped, trembling –

Waiting to be smoothed out and rearranged, or thrown unceremoniously out the window.

Sometimes stretched to snapping point; winding around a lung, stifling, constricting

On the days I feel like falling apart, too much everything and not enough me –

Other times hanging loose, curling around intertwined arteries and draping across my ribcage

In the midnights I lie awake, alone, dreaming; counting sheep and stars and hours.

Crafting dreams and wishes and what-ifs and what-could-have-beens with string. (with heart)

Patterns emerge; tessellations and constellations; unfurling blossoms and iridescent dragonflies;

Snowflakes drifting in Midsummer, turtles swimming among the clouds,

To be tucked away; neatly, haphazardly; or given away, carefully, carelessly –

Strings to be kept, locked secretly in a box in the attic, until their colours are but a faint memory

Or until, twice-upon-an-eternity after, they are somehow intertwined with others, and others’.

To be woven into a tapestry, to be more than the sum of its insignificant parts.

To belong; to be free – to be separate and drifting; to be linked together – inescapably, inevitably.

I fashion a friendship bracelet to offer, to give, to yield. I hand over my heart like it’s worth the same

As the faded crimson thread the dusty old shop ‘round the corner always has on sale.

I reach for starry rivers unravelling before my eyes, grasp at the spiderweb-thin threads

That connect me to the world and its inhabitants, to those I want too badly to keep.

I twist them into a noose, suffocating and freeing and fraying, unfurling at the seams.

Unwind them, strung-together spools and solitary strands; bloodied shreds and tear-stained snarls.

A rope necklace that burns and chafes and reminds me that I am here, alive, grateful; despite and

Because of the bruises, scars, sorrows – faded imperfections, the imprints left behind by Life and living.

A wayward kite’s only link to the Earth, I tether myself to the ground with string –

(With you, with all the ones I have ever had the fortune and misfortune of loving);

Braid a rope-ladder reaching far, far into the clouds, that azure skyscape sprinkled with starlight –

(Daydreams, nightmares, sky-bound castles quietly woven in the hazy glowing gold of evening.)

They are strings, the chains that bind my heart –

(The tell-tale tug that ebbs and flows in time with its beats;

The growing-pains that never quite fade)

And build it, weave it, into what it is, what it yearns to be –

(What it dreams of, what it fears; what it mourns and celebrates;

All the brief years and eternal moments lost and found and to-be-discovered.)

Yes, my heart is made of string.

And so I ask.

What is your heart made of?

#my writing #my poetry #original poetry #writing #original poem #poetry #rubbish i wrote #my words #writers #welp #this grew *long* long #this is a summary of pineapple-ness #whatever that might mean

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midnight-love-song · 2 years

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When will it stop

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thelastgoldfish · 1 day

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I love you I love you I love you

Sometimes, it’s not who you can be happy with but who you could never live without. It's who you love like you're trying to make up for lost time; every touch an apology, every kiss a lament, an 'I'm sorry that I haven't been with you for every day of our lives' Loving you feels like a tidal wave. Every moment with you, I feel as if I'm drowning but I swear I'll learn how to swim.

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worrywrite · 1 year

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I'm having a jolly good time forcing ChatGPT to make bad poetry. Specifically villanelles. I'm actually a little surprised it has a comprehension of the rules of villanelles, but it's easy enough when you can google it.

And when I say bad, I don't mean bad as in dumb. I mean bad as in the ai can only create poems that follow certain rules and only generates functional poetry based on specific queries. These aren't creative or even all that transformative. What it does is look at your request and fill in blanks on its template.

My favorite thus far is:

Yes, that picture is of a butt, A form so bold, so round and full, And that one is a walnut.

A work of art, a playful strut, A shape that's sure to make us drool, Yes, that picture is of a butt.

We marvel at its curves and cut, A sight that's simply wonderful, And that one is a walnut.

We cannot help but stand and gawk, At something that's so beautiful, Yes, that picture is of a butt.

And yet, there's more to it than smut, A symbol of desire, it's true, And that one is a walnut.

A wonderland of shape and strut, A world that's bold and colorful, Yes, that picture is of a butt, And that one is a walnut.

#And it's funny in a sense that the only actual artfulness of this poem was done by me.#I gave it the refrains #and then it filled in the gaps with the most generic topical nonsense.#but because I ended the first line with butt everything is now about butts #because the internet (and consequently its learning data set) has a lot of text about butts #I'm perfectly happy not owning this poem because it's not great in the more poetic sense #yes the contrast between something evocative and simple is funny #but it's mostly rubbish.

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traitorous-daughter · 2 years

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i might have posted this on my other blog so if this is alr out there that’s why!

estranged daughter

such blessing is a child!

wry smiles and glossy eyes

hide the ill-fated destiny

burdened family

such blessing is a child!

one spoon of sugar short

bitter tea burning

lovely child, surely she grows to be pretty

else how bitter otherwise

how sickly her cries

when she prays

a devoted, ugly servant

no one can hear

her reddened cheeks

bleeding excessively

such rotten behaviour

as expected in girlhood

perhaps her crying face

will grow into a sweet rose blush

she will not notice

as others will not

burdened by her tears

such blessing is a child!

a girl! should she grow into a pretty face

and kind surely…

such sweet tea! she will be a good mother

as was her mother as was hers

#original poem #poem #poems and poetry #my poem #mother #daughter #poem about life #sad poems #kinda rubbish #im just sad

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hadesoftheladies · 6 months

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it’s so exhausting to be surrounded by men’s sick twisted fantasies, thoughts and feelings. i don’t want to watch you justify or romanticize your murder-suicide, greg. you’re not complicated, you’re just an entitled brat that gets away with shit. no I don’t think your objectification and voyeurism of the female body is poetic, louis. i don’t think your sermon about the “father’s love” and the “loving community of the trinity” is original or poignant or beautiful. your rationalization of god being whatever you wish you were, which is the most powerfulest man ever, isn’t the only logical explanation of the universe, smith. no i don’t want to hear about how moral subjectivism means we can harm whoever we like and it can’t technically be considered “wrong,” jason. no i don’t want to hear about how important your mother is to you when you can’t help her with the fucking dishes and are happy to watch her work for you, charles. no I don’t want to see your “poignant” photography of naked women, william. no I don’t want to hear you whine about your breakup with your girlfriend who’s definitely better off, michael. no I don’t want to read your poem about women grieving their sons in war like they’re just sitting nice and pretty and untouched by wars, paul. I don’t want to read about how beautiful you find you’re wife’s subservience, david.

you are all so so so boring to me and I hate what you put out into the world. it’s such a whopping pile of thoughtless, contrived, childish rubbish.

I abhor the male perspective. it perverts everything beautiful. men smear shit and mud on every beautiful thing. friendships, love, humanity, the world, family, god . . . everything. they are everything boring and regressive about the world.

better at destroying than creating.

#radblr #feminism #mine #I ABHOR the male perspective #it PERVERTS EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL #IT MAKES BEAUTIFUL THINGS UGLY

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i-am-a-l0st-gh0st · 12 days

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School au! It's valentine's day, and the reader has prepared a letter with a plushie that was a limited edition plush merchandise from lyneys favorite content creator magician. They wanted to cowardly confess through a letter, as they were worried of that destroying their best-friend relationship, even writing at the end of the letter "if this makes you uncomfortable or you'd wish to never speak of it again please just ignore this letter.".

Yet... When the time to give it came, they saw lyney had received quite a few gifts, but what broke the reader was when someone tried to suddenly kiss lyney. They got angry, furious even, the frustration taking each thought from their mind. They left the classroom and went outside, not wanting to look at this any further. Even if the girl was just being pushy - the sight itself hurt em. They decided it was a stupid idea to confess at all - knowing how many people liked lyney... He most likely wasn't going to pick the reader - at least that's what they thought. They sat outside near the school court, forgetting in their frustration that the place they were sitting it was see-able from their classroom. They crumbled the letter and sat there, head hanging low, as they skipped the class.

I should be over all the butterflies- Lyney x Gn!reader

Im still into you t/w- kissing summary- as shown above

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The sun shone brightly as you walked to school, bag in hand filled with things for Lyney. It was Valentine's Day, the day you were going to confess to your best friend. You may not have looked nervous but you felt it, your stomach was filled with butterflies and your palms were getting clammy. Maybe this is a bad idea?

As you stepped onto the school grounds you could see many people confessing their love, some being requited while others not. You hadn’t seen Lyney yet but hopefully, he didn’t have a crowd of people like others did.

Lyney was quite a popular boy, you were merely a shadow. Or that's what people called you. You followed him around like a lost puppy, wondering when he would get bored. He never did. Well, at least he said he never did. You started to worry about what would happen if this went wrong… Would he ever see you the same way? Or would he just see you as rubbish?

Inside the classroom, people were gathered around one spot. And you knew that spot as Lyney’s. Many girls, boys and other people were surrounding him trying to get his attention by giving him the most extravagant gifts. There were chocolates, and love poems and cards. All crappy valentines Day stuff. You were the only one who knew him well enough.

You didn’t bother trying to push into the crowd, you would only get tread on. You stood from afar watching him try and turn down the people politely. He was never one to make people upset or angry. Once he’d accidentally made you cry because he scared you by jumping out of a corner. The amount of times he apologised, and he still apologises today.

A girl in the sea of people leaned closer towards Lyney begging to be kissed. When he didn’t respond she kissed him herself. You didn’t stick around long after that, the tears in your eyes blocked your vision anyway. God, you knew it was stupid… Lyney would definelty pick one of the many people laid out for him. It hurt to think about. you’d loved him for so long. You scrunched up the note on the gift and threw it on the ground.

Not even 5 minutes later someone grabbed that bit of paper off the ground.

“Mon amour, what are you doing out here?” You knew that voice anywhere. “And what is this bit of paper with my name on it?”

Before you would react he opened the letter reading your love confession. You could see a tinge of red forming on his cheeks.

“You love me?” His face was almost bright red now

“I thought it was kinda obvious?”

“You kept it well hidden y/n.”

You felt him get closer, the heat of his body warming you. His hand softly grazed you cheek sending a slight shiver through your body. “May I kiss you?”

The butterflies were back and were not staying still anytime soon. Your words couldn’t quite form properly all you could do was nod. His lips softly pressed against yours, while he placed his hand on your right cheek pulling you in closer not letting you go. Lyney’s hands were soft making you feel more at comfort. The way he kissed was nothing like you saw in romance movies. He was so gentle with you, you didn’t mind that at all.

His hands moved to your waist pulling you in. The kiss felt like an eternity but was over just like that.

“Woah…” You couldn’t form the right words to tell him you loved it.

Taglist

@pandragonsoul @atsukawolfcat @keeyisbored

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #fluff #gn reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #angst #lyney #lyney genshin #genshin impact lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x gnreader #lyney oneshot #lyney fluff

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eye-of-enigmatic-thought · 4 months

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Happy New Year! I hope you all had a good December! These were my contributions to the @welcomehomefanzine winter zine! I managed to do more art this time too! For my contributions I wanted to draw art on various Winter traditions from different cultures, such as also my own! If you decide to colour in any of these, please @ me!!

Also keep in mind, we are not affiliated with Clown or the team behind WH, we are just fans who love the work!!

I wrote more on all the artworks under the cut! Including the traditions they were based on!

First one was a little visual pun on the first verse of '12 Days of Christmas', Poppy is the partridge in the pear tree! Not much to say about this one, it's my only Christmas related thing! Second one was based on the Southern Welsh winter tradition of the Mari Lwyd. The Mari Lwyd is a hobby horse made from a horse's skull and is then decorated. It is puppeteered to go to the doors of various houses where its handlers will sing verses on letting it in to the home, you are supposed to sing back excuses on why you can't let it in, and if you relent, you invite the Mari Lwyd and its handlers in your home, where it will eat your food and alcohol and terrorise your children! The tradition and its true origins and meaning and even etymology is unknown, but it's thought to have ancient Pagan roots! It seems here, Eddie relented in his songs to it and regretted everything immediately after!

Third image is another Poppy centric piece because I love her. Here she is dressed up as a figure from Schnabelperchten! This is a tradition seen only in Rauris Valley in Austria and is a manifestation of Perchta, a goddess from Alpine Paganism that took the form of a old woman who'd punish misbehaving children by slitting their bellies. For Schnabelperchten, on the 5th of January, figures dressed in smocks, jackets, and a beak-like mask will visit various homes to check their upkeep and cleanliness all while emitting a soft 'ga ga ga', in more ancient versions of the legend, if you did not keep your living quarters in good enough conditions, the Schnabelperchten would slit open your belly and dump all the rubbish inside! Poppy would never do that though! No one tell her about that part!! Last but not least is one based on a tradition from my culture! Here you see the entire neighbourhood celebrating Yalda Night and spending time with one anotherThis is a Persian/Iranian festival with Zoroastrian roots held on the Winter Solstice. This day was traditionally seen as ill omened as being the darkest day of the year, the forces of Ahriman and his Deevs were most active, and so much of the day entailed family and friends getting together in good company. They would read stories and poems (especially the Shahnameh or poems by Hafez) with nuts and various fruits from previous harvests being served, watermelon and pomegranates being the most prominent! It was also encouraged to stay well up after midnight lest misfortune befall you! Due to it also being the longest night, it was also seen as the birthdate of the sun deity Mehr (or Mithra), as the subsequent days would get longer.

This was all fun to do and I hope I did all these traditons justice!! I am most likely missing out a lot on my explanations for them, so I hope I at least peaked your interest in these different Winter festivities enough to look into them on your own!

#my art #digital art #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanart #frank frankly #wally darling #poppy partridge #barnaby b beagle #eddie dear #sally starlet #julie joyful #welcome home fanzine #yalda night #shabe yalda #schnabelperchten #mari lwyd #howdy pillar

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Congrats on 4k Leah!🤍 I've been reading you work for a while now but I just started a new account so I can start writing something too and I'm here following you again🤎🤎 I love your writing so much! Please, never stop writing🤍 // This is my first time requesting on here so if I do it wrong, I'm so sorry🙇‍♀️ I'd like to request situation #28 and sentence #13 with Bob, please. Thank you so much🤍🤎 #PL2

Situation 28 - Love confession

Prompt 13 - “Tell me what you're thinking right now.”

The Waitress Song //

“Mama?” Your daughter asked as you held her hands as she stood on the edge of the pool table, balancing as your husband and his colleagues celebrated their promotions with a few rounds at the local watering hole. The Hard Deck. “How did you meet daddy?”

***~***~***~***~***~**

“What can I get you today, Flyboy?” There's a place Bob goes for breakfast every afternoon. The coffee’s rubbish and the bacon’s always hard to chew, and the toast is always soggy, but— he hardly notices.

And the food takes such a long time to get made, even when he’s the only person in the cafe. And his table is always wobbly—but he hardly notices.

You're probably thinking why he’d even bother eating there on a daily basis? There's heaps of other places on offer, why not change to another place if the bacon is rubber and the taste of the cuppa makes him pull faces and splutter?

It's the waitress. He loves her, the way she clears plates with a clutter, you make his heart race and flutter. He is absolutely aware that it's crazy to love you—A lady that's basically just a stranger with an apron down your brother.

Bobs doesn’t need to ask your name and number because this relationship is built on breakfast, all he does is wait on you just so you can wait on him.

“Just the usual?” You asked shortly after. Bob smiled softly as he handed you back the menu that’s always on the table prompt and ready. You took it with grace and fished the blue ball point pen from your bun. Finding a blank page in your notebook to write down Bob's order.

Realistically you didn’t need to write Bob's order down. You knew it off by heart, you just liked having an excuse to talk to the cute naval aviator that would go out of his way to stop by after whatever shift he’d just come off or was about to start to order some less than mediocre food from the 24hr diner your uncle owned and operated for the last twenty years.

“What’s it usually? A medium coffee to go, bacon and eggs with a side of toast and beans?” Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle softly. A beautiful crimson red crept across the apples of his cheeks that let you know he felt a little gooey on the inside that you’d memorised his order.

First you started off just saying hi to him bye to him that'll be $5.95 to him but Bob didn't really mind, that was always alright with him, he just smiled and ate. He’d watch you float around and clean the counter. Admiring from afar.

Sometimes the two of you might not have spoken for like a week, you knew in Bob's quiet times he liked to be alone and write a poem with his headphones on—so you’d let him do just that and admire from afar.

“Uh—can I change it up a little today?” Bob asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. The longer he kept you standing there, looking all kinds of perfect—the longer he had to work up the courage to ask you out. “If that isn’t too much trouble?”

“Sure thing Lieutenant Floyd.” You say almost delighted that you get to stay a little while longer. “What can I get ya this morning?”

“A Newspaper please? bacon, a fried or poached egg, whatever’s easiest and a slice of toast, long black too if the coffee is any good today.” The beans were always burnt, Bob thought to himself after having ordered them time and time again. And he knew if the cup was dirty you would just clean it with your shirt.

He couldn’t help but to wonder if you were his ideal girl, and what would happen if you dated in the real world. ‘Nah’ He shook the thought from his mind, he didn't think it would work. Bob wouldn't wanna risk what you have and have to tip 'cause of that.

“Coming right up—“ You nodded and placed your pen back in your bun and tucked your order pad into your apron. “I’ll bring your coffee out first.”

“Thanks.” It had been like this for months. The both of you were too afraid to make the first real move, so the move never came. Lieutenant Robert Floyd was one of your three regulars and the only one who’d managed to steal your heart. There was no way he ate here day in and day out just for the food—if he did he was crazy. But regardless you kept entertaining his foolishness. Wondering if he’d ever work up enough courage to just make a move.

“Alright, one black coffee for you Bob.” You wanted to say that the food wouldn’t be too far away but you knew Bob would know that you were lying. It always took forever.

“Amazing, thank you so much Y/n, I feel like I’ve been up since forever.” Bob sighed as you carefully poured him a cup of fresh coffee. Placing the freshly brewed pot down on the table as you mulled over your next question. It wasn’t like you to be so forward, but you simply had nothing better to do.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” You asked as you watched the way Bob raised his eyebrows at your question. “I don’t mean to impose—I just don’t have an awful lot to be doing right now and I’d rather sit and talk then just think about talking to you from behind the counter.” Bob thought his head was going to explode with how hot he was running.

You? Sitting with him? Could he just give you his last name already?

“Uh—yeah no by all means.” Bob tried to hide the probably overbearing and possibly psychotic grin that threatened to consume his face as he watched you slide into the chair across from him. Sighing with relief that you were finally off your feet. “You work here every day don’t you?”

“Yep.” You popped the p as you let your chin fall into your hand as your elbow prompted you up on the table. “Feels like one big eternal shift.” You explained as Bob took a sip of his coffee. Hiding the fact he wanted to splatter at the bitterness. “I’m sure my diner delirium is nowhere near as exciting or as thrilling as being a pilot for the navy though.” You gestured down to Bobs flight suit—this had been the longest conversation the two of you had ever had and Bob thought his heart was going to beat through his chest:

He was infuriated with your smile, the effortless way it could be the brightest thing in the entire diner. He loved your laugh—for the very few times he’d been blessed with the sound of it. Surely it was the very sound that people were blessed with when they entered the gates of heaven. Then there was your hair. So uniquely gorgeous that he saw it in his dreams, dancing across the white satin pillow cases of Bob's bed.

“Oh I’m not a pilot.” Bob corrected you with a humble glint in his eye. Swirling baby blue oceans that completely captivated your heart. “I’m a weapons systems officer.” Just as you were going to ask for more detail, more information—the sound of the little orders up bell rang out through the empty diner.

“I’ll be right back with your food weapons system officer Floyd.” You beamed, sliding out and sauntering off towards the pass. Bob turned his attention around to follow you—his eyes lingered down from your neck to your back to the swell of your ass, he blushed a bashful hume of crimson red when he felt his flight suit rise in his crotch. You were perfect. His ideal girl and Bob didn’t even know you.

Bob had to pretend he was looking at the light fixtures above your head when you turned on your heels, his order in hand and folded newspaper under your arm.

“Orders up Flyboy—“ You chuckled as you sat back down. “So, what does being a weapons system officer entail?” No one had really asked Bob that question before, so as he looked down at the mediocre meal he’d ordered and chuckled softly to himself at how surreal this moment felt—he couldn’t help but to look at you like you hung all the stars in the night sky just for him. “What?” You smiled.

“Nothing—“ Bob beamed back at you, his cheeks flushed and ever telling. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me what you're thinking right now.” You demanded through a grin so pure it stole Bob's heart, he watched as your hand crept across to steal a slice of slightly burnt toast off his plate. The moment you took a bite Bob knew he was in love with you—his mysterious diner waitress. Like you’d cast some sort of spell on his mortal body, Bob felt himself giving in, falling weak on his knees at the idea of spending every waking moment getting to know you more.

“I uh—I was just thinking that I think I’m in love with you.” You froze, not expecting the shy eyed man sitting across from you to expose himself so openly. It was endearing though. “I’m so sorry—that was really out of pocket.”

“No no!” You tried to hide the fact your head was filling with all the little scenarios you’d daydreamed about while working. Thinking of the future and what it would be like if Bob was really your future husband. “I uh, I don’t mind actually.”

“Really?” Bob let out a sigh of relief as he looked at you across the table with all the love in the world dripping from his baby face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure—“ You took another bite of the triangle but of toast before swallowing. “I think I might be in love with you too.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“He used to come into mummy’s diner baby.” You explained. “When uncle Roger used to own it, before it was really good.”

“Dad says uncle Roger can’t cook to save his life.” Your daughter countered as you felt Bob come to stand behind you, his hand snaked up across your hip before he was kissing your cheek.

“Dad stands by that statement.” Bob added as he smiled against your skin, floral notes of jasmine and amber rose filled his senses. “He lost ten pounds from eating your uncle's food every day just so he could talk to mama.”

“Could have just asked me out on a date, Flyboy—“ You teased, turning to kiss your husband softly. Bob hummed a laugh against you as your daughter climbed into your arms.

“Ah, that would’ve been too easy.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊

#Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊#bob top gun #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fic #top gun bob #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader

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liaa--qb · 1 month

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saw the trailer (Tom GC is going to eat !!!!) But I have major complaints with show n fandom---

Rhaenys- I hate that Rhaenys motherhood is so badly ignored in book n fandom both. Like both of her children died indirectly because of Rhaenyra and Daemon tbh n they both got married, lived their life while both Colrys and Rhaenys are shown as supporting dummies. Specially Rhaenys who is not having bit of jealousy, envy towards daemon n Rhaenyra when they are even getting driftmark for her son easily. This makes them so dull like why they are misusing potential of Colrys n Rhaenys as power players. I am not saying that they cannot support Rhaenyra but there should be a proper growth with their characters. It's rubbish how quickly Rhaenys forgives Rhaenyra n daemon just bc sudden marriage pact of Rhaena/baela with her sons

Rhaena and Helaena - I very much hate to say that I think that they are not going to give any much time to both Rhaena n Helaena. Team black Stans always cry about twins but believe me team green is done dirty equally. Helaena will not be given any proper developing role just some small poems to say her vision whole time. There will be no helaemond ( atleast through that concept there was a chance for Helaena's presence). They will ignore helaena by making her mad and Rhaena while sending her pentos early. It will be only Baela among girls who would be the main thing. They are gonna give her Rhaena's quality too which is very much bad for Rhaena as there would be left nothing for her. Her calm, sensible and beautiful character just like her mother made her differ from every other kid.

3. Mixing personality- all kids have their own personalities which made them different; Aegon, Helaena, Aemond , daeron , Rhaena ,Baela , Jace. Honestly only Aegon and Jace have were the one who were almost correctly done regarding personality. They did alot shifting with aemond too just like they did with daemon. All of these kids could have been written with their own personalities but in more developed way unlike 2d version of the book. Same with Alicent, Rhaenyra, daemon

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