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xreaderbooks · 4 months

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Asphyxiated | Azriel

Summary: you overhear your mate talking to the inner circle about someone being clingy and annoying, and you decide to remove yourself from the court and your mate to avoid further humiliation.

based on this request

Warnings: language, insecurity, eavesdropping, feeling unworthy, court of nightmares, there's a stalker, some random OC, angst, miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

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"Azriel," You sing his name as you walk into your secluded home. A decently sized cottage to fit your tall, broad, wide-winged mate, that you designed and built together, just outside the city of Velaris. "Look at what I brought you."

You walk into the sitting room where you and Azriel enjoy each other's company in peace, however rare the occurrence. He appears troubled in his sleep as you've found him lying on his back with his wings spread open and a hand draped over his eyes. He removes his arm from his face and blinks your way, feeling your presence as you enter the room.

"What do you have there?" His melodic voice makes your stomach flutter in a frenzy as it always does and you hope the bond doesn't translate too much to him, or his shadows, the gossipers that they are.

With a bright grin, you bring the box from behind your back and show him a white box with clear plastic for the perfect view of the treats inside. "Cupcakes," You reply cheerfully, awaiting a grateful response. "Went by the river today and Hilaria was working at the shop you like, did you know she found a job? how great for her!"

Azriel grumbles slightly and your smile falters but you don't let it show, opening the box you move to the couch and sit beside him with the room he gave you tucking in his wings.

"You got my favorite," Az murmurs, carefully taking out the beautifully decorated dessert. You take the statement as a note of appreciation for how well you know him, that much was obvious as you've known each other since birth practically, and in love with each other for half of that time.

He bent his neck down to kiss your cheek and muttering a thank you.

"Don't get too excited now, I heard from Rhys about where you're next assignment is gonna be and I expect a little something when you get back," You tease.

Azriel exhales through his nose and it sounds like a small laugh, "I'll be sure to return the favor if all goes well, love."

"What's wrong?" You ask, the energy in the room has been off since the moment you arrived and you couldn't deny it frightened you a little.

You and Azriel have been going through a rough patch, it happens as often as he overloads himself with work but you have always managed to work through it, it's never too serious mostly the both of you missing each other.

Whenever Azriel was working, you were home, and whenever you were working- he was home. You've spoken to Rhysand about your and Azriel's assignments but it wasn't about when he wanted you both to work, it was simply what needed to be done when it needed to be done.

Both of you being spymasters of the night court, it wasn't ideal to send you both on the same mission unless needed. Most of the time, either one of you or both of you were needed in separate places.

On the days, weeks- if you were lucky- months, that you had 'easy' assignments or days off, you spent it together. You and Azriel would spend time in bed or with your family, going on outings, and trying new things to add to the excitement of life. You loved to be together, your relationship being very sacred to both of you.

"Just tired," Azriel shrugs. You know him better though, something was bothering him that he didn't want to tell you.

You felt his frustration through the bond, you wanted to help him but knowing Az he'd tell you when he was ready.

~~~

"-the fucking shop, I mean honestly how close is she trying to get?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop. Originally you were coming by to talk to Rhys and Feyre about some of the rumors going around the court of nightmares, nothing too concerning but something that needed to be checked on the next visit. When you heard the muffled voices in the townhouse sitting room.

"Perhaps if you spent less time with her?" Mor suggested.

You couldn't think of anyone else Azriel might be spending time with if not for you. Did Azriel want to spend less time with you?

Your brain immediately jumps to conclusions, Azriel has been in his thoughts as of late, and he hasn't told you what's been bothering him. You thought it had something to do with the distance, perhaps a lack of communication. It was putting a strain on your relationship but you didn't think even more distance was the answer.

Azriel shakes his head insistently, "I don't spend time with her, ever. She finds me somehow, it's maddening and I can't tell Y/n to stay away while I figure out how to solve this, she's always just there."

It was like a dagger in your heart. If you were always there it was because you felt like you never spent time together, how were you supposed to have a relationship if you were never together?

You thought for sure, Azriel felt the same.

"She is a bit clingy," Cassian nods. You felt another pang in your chest, Cassian who was your partner in crime, Mor who was your favorite person to talk to about anything, and your mate had all agreed that you were too much.

"A bit is a bit of an understatement," You heard Feyre chuckle.

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing, your fault for listening to a conversation you weren't privy to you suppose but you would've never guessed your family felt you smothered them.

Perhaps you were too clingy, you were over at their house every other day. You felt like you were dividing your time between the people you loved, maybe they didn't want you there, and you were an imposition on their daily schedule. You felt embarrassed and humiliated that they were in a meeting to discuss what to do with you.

"I can talk to her if need be, brother," Rhysand gives Azriel a reassuring nod.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no need. I will speak with her, it's my relationship, my responsibility."

Cassian snorted loudly, "Your need to fix things yourself is admirable brother, truly. Let us pray that this will not dig you a deeper grave."

You didn't hear the rest, didn't need to.

Silently, you slipped out the doors of the townhouse. You didn't want to lose your friends so if they wanted space- you'd give them space.

~~~

You disappeared for the rest of the day, and the next. You left a note to Azriel so he wouldn't worry- not that he wouldn't appreciate your shared home now all to himself. You still had your apartment in the city that you rented out when you moved in with Azriel.

There were currently no tenants as there were renovations to be done.

You avoided your room at the townhouse knowing you weren't as welcome as you thought. You didn't show up to training with Cassian and Azriel that morning. Instead, you met informants and did some investigating yourself.

You sent a letter to Rhysand with details on the Hewn City problem, told him that he should look into it as soon as possible, and asked if he wanted you to get a handle on it instead.

He replied with a note giving you thanks and telling you that he'd deal it himself but would call on you with the rest of the inner circle when the visit would happen.

Days passed by until it had officially been a week of no contact. Azriel had sent you letter after letter requesting to see you. You denied them all with sweet words to show that there was nothing wrong, that you didn't overhear what they said about you.

Where'd you go - A

Miss you -A

Come back, our home feels empty without you - Azriel

Are you alright? - Desperately need to see you, Az

Several letters with pleading undertones, each one more than the last.

Then letters from Cassian about training, you reassured him that you were following the usual routine. Mor had invited you to Ritas one night and lunch another day- you declined both with excuses of having too much work to focus on anything else. You didn't realize how much they felt it was an obligation to do things with you.

Eventually, the time came, and Rhysand called on you for the visit to the court of nightmares. You were anxious at the thought of seeing them again, maybe as time passed they would feel better with you around now that you gave them space.

~~~

You dressed appropriately for the setting, your leathers, and weapons strapped to your body. The scowl was natural as you hated being here, glares sent to everyone who looked your way, intimidation being the only way to survive this gods-forsaken place.

Bowing in front of Rhysand to fit the narrative, Feyre sent you a curious as you bowed to her, you felt her stroking the inner walls of your mind- a request to enter. You shut her out with strong mental walls, standing once she allowed you, and took your place next to Azriel, slightly behind him and Cassian.

Azriel's eyes followed you, he tried to brush a finger against your hand as you passed him but you clasped your hands behind your back. Through the bond, you felt a sting in your chest. You spared a glance at your mate, you missed him so much your body craved to be near him but you resisted.

It went as well as it usually did, a dramatically villainous speech from Rhys, with some added threats to those opposed to his reign. The High Fae in attendance got drunk on Faerie wine and danced with the whole night ahead of them.

Azriel attempted to talk to you over his shoulder, "Are you upset with me?" He muttered to you with a crease on his forehead.

You shook your head, "No, why would I be?"

"Where've you been?"

With the few looks you've gotten of his face he looked stressed, circles under his eyes, his hands were clenched and you could tell that it was to keep him from fidgeting.

"Now is not the time," You told him, straightening when you saw a reveler get too close to the High Lady.

"We're done here anyway," Rhysand's voice echoed in your mind. You didn't doubt Azriel heard him as well. You took your leave, Azriel right behind you, he caught up so quickly he held your wrist you didn't notice until you felt the world shift and you realized he traveled you both to your cottage home with his shadows.

Azriel had stood in the same spot he landed while you backed away from him a couple of steps.

"You've been avoiding me," A statement. It was heavy with questions, with want of information you didn't want to divulge.

You asked one of your own, "Have you watered the plants?"

"Have I watered the plants?" He scoffed out the last word. "I've barely been able to function without you, Y/n."

You flinched although he didn't yell but the tone in which he spoke felt like he was scolding you.

He continued, "Yes, I watered the plants."

A weak smile was pulled out of you, he probably loved those plants as much as you. You weren't as much a gardener as Elain but you managed a small garden of your own, they were like yours and Azriel's children, something you both grew together. A garden of both of your favorite flowers and fruits and vegetables.

"Seems like you've been functioning just fine," You responded in a smart tone, it just slipped out.

"Tell me what I did, please, it's driving me mad." He stepped in your direction, shadows reaching to touch you, and you saw Azriel forcefully reigning them in like he wanted to reach for you too.

You softened at the sight, "It's not something you did, Az."

"Something I said, then?" He didn't refrain from fidgeting now, in the comfort of the home, he fidgeted with his fingers. "Something I didn't say, I know I didn't want to talk about what was happening before, but I'll tell you whatever you want me to if you promise not to leave again."

You just about melted, you felt yourself wanting to sway at his beseeching. "What was happening before?" You questioned in barely a whisper.

"Hilaria happened. She- Nothing happened- I swear to you, she grew attached. She grew attached to me," He grimaced as he said it. "She was everywhere I happened to be, it wasn't normal, I've warned her off so many times I was glad you didn't notice. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable with her. The moment she got a job at the sweet shop, she got too close, you went there and I knew it wasn't a coincidence."

Azriel had a fucking stalker and you didn't know about it. That was what he was so stressed about. Hilaria- an Illyrian female who had a shitty life, Azriel had given her refuge, because she had no family left to care for her, and a female alone in that camp was no place to be.

You helped Azriel find her a living space, and gave her safety for her to heal from the traumas, she must've mistook that for something else entirely. You couldn't help but to feel bad for her.

"I went to Rhys, he and the others offered their advice and I tried to talk to her about her behavior. She didn't take it well, so we sent her to Dawn court with the assurance that they would do all they could to help her."

"You talked to the others about this?" It all made more sense now.

He nodded.

"Did Cassian say she was clingy?" You needed to be sure you were getting all the details now.

His brows furrowed, "How did you?"

"Because I was there when you were talking, but I didn't know you were talking about Hilaria." You sat on the couch slowly, forearms on your knees, hands clasped.

You laughed incredulously, slapping your hands to cover your face and running your hands into your hair. "I thought you were all talking about me."

"What?" Azriel's eyes were on you, deciphering your words when he pieced them together. "Why would we ever?"

"You weren't telling me anything about what was going on, I thought I was prying too much, I do spend a good bit of time with everyone, it wouldn't be too far off."

A smile tugged on his lips, one he was trying not to show. He was trying not to make you feel foolish but it was too late. "I love you, but this was not your wisest moment."

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with little force, "Az!"

"You had everyone concerned, they thought they had offended you in some way."

"Of course not!" You shook your head in disbelief, at how easily your insecurity took over.

"Now my family has some attachment issues, you couldn't get rid of them if you tried, you would probably want space from them yourself."

You rolled your eyes knowing them all too well, centuries with them and you still felt undeserving.

Azriel kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his and settling them on your lap then caressed your face in his hands. "I could never not want you near me, you're everything to me, understand?" His hands gave your head a gentle shake in emphasis.

"I don't think you understand where my mind was at the moment," You avoided his gaze. You didn't want him to know, the feeling of not being worthy enough for him, how you compared yourself to everything in his past and it didn't seem plausible for him to accept you. When he did accept the bond, it was the greatest moment you ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Azriel was the love of your life, with and without a bond. It was hard for you to accept that he loved you without it if it wasn't for the fact that you trusted him to tell you the truth. He came to you and confessed his love and then the bond happened. You would have continued to pretend you weren't in love with him, otherwise.

"Do you not understand," Azriel sighed, "Do you not understand my love for you, at all?"

"It was easier to believe that you needed space from me," You confessed, shutting your eyes tight. Warm lips landed on yours, you were startled for a second before reciprocating the kiss.

He kissed you breathlessly, a minute, two or three- you didn't know how much time passed. Your blood pulsed in your ears, or was it his? it was rapid and created an electric current in your veins.

"I want to drown in your love, to be asphyxiated by it until all I know is you, in this life and after. I could never get enough of you." He whispered the promise on your lips with his eyes closed. You nudged your nose against his to open his eyes.

The warmth of his hazel eyes graced you and you murmur his name, he nudges your nose in response. "I love you."

Hours into the late night, after Azriel insisted on a bath together, you had a late-night snack nuzzled on the couch catching up on the lost time. You whispered sweet nothings to each other in bed with limbs entangled, and long-lasting kisses.

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comfortless · 4 months

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What dungeoneer!König wants vs what he gets:

SO TRUE. he just wants a pretty lady that can sew and cook, willing to put up with his nonsense without hissing at him at every turn!! knight!gf simply lives to bully him (she gets good sword practice that way) <3

At some point, he does ask her about her strange demeanor: “Why do you pretend?”

It’s said in a hushed whisper while they’re both fitted beneath a thin sheet at some weatherworn inn along their route, cozy and safe as every night since she took to sleeping at his side like a contented little kitten. He can’t help but want to poke at her when she’s so soft and weary (and her sword is on the far side of the room).

Not that he dislikes her with the sharp edges of her armor, the jostling of her chainmail and her expert swordswomanship— he just can not comprehend why a lady as lovely as she is would want to explore dark crypts full of monsters and bully him into dueling with her! She should be in fields of flowers, caressed by the wind, laughing soft into the mouth of her lover while he strips her of her gown…

She’s already toyed with the idea of courting him as a man would, stuffing flowers in the cuff links of his tunic and kneeling before him as if to offer her loyalty, her blade. It’s always when she finds herself keen on the idea of potentially taking him as her own that he finds a way to ruin the moment with blunt words or a too-eager hand.

“What do you mean?” She drags the words, sleep addled and dumbed down by a pint of mead from the tavern below.

“That you’re…” He pauses.

König isn’t stupid, he knows he’s jabbing at the dragon’s mouth, daring it to breathe fire the second he asks his lady knight things like this. She is what she is, and he’s given up on the hope of ever changing whichever tangled bowstring in her mind is making her this way. Though he would prefer her to be like the soft women he’s seen wearing silken bliauts, eyes shimmering as they shyly avert their gazes from him… She is something else entirely and that both fascinated and unnerves him.

“… not fragile,” he finishes, turning on his side to face her properly.

His little knight pinches her brow at that, throws the covering off of them both and rises to her knees to climb over him. She means to be intimidating, surely, but he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his pants at the sight of her downcast glare and the feel of her fingernails biting into the skin of his bare shoulders, actually thinking that her delicate form is enough to properly keep him pinned.

“I saved your life.” Ever since the gnoll, she’s been using it as leverage, punctuating her words by tracing over the scar with a light stroke of her thumb.

“Ja, but… do you not want to be more…”

“Ladylike?”

If she were, they would already have settled someplace softer; a roof above their heads where he sacrifices every shift of the sun feeding her from his palm and bringing home gifts that make her eyes shimmery and her heart fill to bursting. Every hour of the night squishing her beneath him and bringing her to beautiful ruin.

The concept only further confuses her when König nods his head, a trace of honeysuckle wafting up from his throat where she had pressed them into the collar of his shirt only earlier that day. It eases her, makes her less annoyed when she remembers that this brute is entirely hers, equally devoted even if he is more keen on fucking her in a dress than in the armor she covets.

She tells him a story when she finally retreats to her side of the thin, straw-stuffed mattress. It’s one he’s heard countless times in his own youth, of a knight she seemed to believe a hero. When she finishes, expecting some protest from him about how little girls should have never heard such tales, she’s only met with a silence that further bewilders her.

His stare is less perplexed and more loving, now. So much so, that she isn’t surprised when he pulls her closer with a gentle grasp to her forearm and rests his chin over her shoulder.

“You want to be a little hero then, hm?,” he whispers into her ear, a prideful smirk plastered across his face when he feels her shiver.

“Aren’t I already?” No matter how much cold steel she coats herself in, it could never smother out the gentleness of her laugh, and when she does giggle, he bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood to keep the urge to squish her tits and toy with her at bay.

“Knights don’t find themselves in bed with beasts,” he rasps, daring to inch his hand further down to her hip.

“You believe that a lady would be more keen to?”

“A lady would want the beast to fuck her, ja?”

Poor König finds himself entirely blueballed once more when she squirms away from him, shooting a glare as cold as a winter storm in his direction before facing away with the blanket pulled taut over the both of them.

She’s only grateful that he can’t hear the beating of her heart or catch sight of the giddy little smile pulling at her lips. It’s not his stature or his prowess in battle that’s caged him up in her heart, only the way he makes her feel as though she truly is apart of some fairytale.

#dungeoneer!könig #he spends the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling utterly destroyed #is he really this bad with women or is she just shy…#meanwhile she is just ‘a beast..? ((: you don’t say… ((:’#stealing a glance next time they bathe together nodding her head and taking notes

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rushtoprove · 1 year

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to deceive a prince

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: general audiences word count: 6k+ summary: when aemond targaryen shows interest in courting your little sister, she employs your help to capture his attention through sharing letters and notes, all the while acting as if you are her. it was never meant to become so complicated. warnings: medieval catfishing? rom-com vibes. a little bit of fluff because my masterlist was getting to angsty so i needed something to lighten it up. catfishing bad in real life obviously. This has been flagged as mature by the tumblr gods but i promise it’s not.

“Please!” You wanted to curse your sister. Could she not see you were enjoying the peace of the gardens? That you were content simply reading beneath the oak tree that kept you hidden from the surrounding courtiers? Why did she need to pester you with such idiotic conversation?

“Repeat it again?” You were in disbelief at what your younger sister had just requested of you, but her excitement rendered her oblivious to the discomfort.

“Prince Aemond requested me as a dance partner at the ball last night and now I am in love! But I woke up to this letter beneath my door and I do not know how to reply! Or what some of the words mean. He was so sullen with me last night that I thought he must have hated me so. But he likes me!” She spun around in childish glee, ignoring your widened eyes and cruel laughter.

“So, you want me to write back to him? As you? This morning did you not call him a tedious bore? You said you regretted wasting a dance on him, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, yes, I know! I was too devastated that he did not like me, so I had no choice but to mask my despair. I know you understand what I’m asking for, I do not know why this is the fourth time you want me to repeat it you obviously know what I’m talking about!”

“Tell me one more time for good luck.” You could help but play with Mariyanna now, enjoying her desperation. You both had only just been sent to attend court three days ago, but it was no surprise to you that she would catch a suitor’s eye so quick. Even if it was the sullen prince with an ill temperament that many had warned you to take care around.

“Stop! Please sister, please!?”

“Many say he is a cruel man little Anna. Heartless even. Hell bent on revenge from years ago. And that he does not smile or laugh. I’m surprised he danced.” You sighed as you lowered your book and finally gave your attention to her. She was three years your junior, but you often treated her as a baby. She let her knees sink to the cold earth so that you both sat facing each other and Mariyanna clasped your hands together tightly.

“His mother requested he dance so he could begin trying to find a suitable wife. Apparently, he won’t accept anything his family suggest so he is being given the freedom to choose. As long as she is suitable enough to join their family.”

“He told you all this?”

“No, his brother Aegon told me after he saw us dance for the second time.”

“The drunk?”

“Hush sister. But yes... that one. You would know all this if you attended!” She tried to glare at you in disappointment, but her smile was uncontainable. She was truly getting swept up in a fantasy that was created less than a day ago. You rolled your eyes at her comment before lifting your book back up.

“You are a fool little sister.”

“Imagine it though! Me! Marrying a prince and becoming a princess! I think I would fit well into that duty.” Her eyes glazed over as she imagined her possible future, but once she returned to reality, and quickly returned to begging. You groaned as your book was covered by the letter Prince Aemond had slid beneath her door, turning your nose up at the courting language. It was infected with imagery of nature and copious amounts of sentences comparing sweet Mariyanna to different flowers. You moaned in discomfort.

“PLEASE!?” She cried. You did not want to. You loathed the idea. But you were always ready to do whatever your sister required, so with a sigh you wrote a letter in return. She complained it was not filled with enough declarations and promises of love and duty, but you simply waved her away.

“You do not want to seem desperate for him. He will think you are only after his title.” And like always, your sister followed whatever you said. After that she sat wide-eyed as you quickly wrote down little sentences that quietly asked to be answered. You made small jokes about their previous night as you listened to your sister retell every moment in detail. The moment it was finished she bounced up quickly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I love you!” You had no time to reply before she spun on heel and raced up the grass hill, desperate to find a maid to deliver the letter.

“That’s the only time Mariyanna!” You called out after her, but she was already gone.

+++

It was only a day later that your little sister had come running back with a letter grasped tightly in her grip. This time she was interrupting your alone time in the library.

“He replied!” She squealed before shoving you along the stone bench to sit beside you. You thanked the gods no one ever seemed to come to this part of the castle, as they much preferred the newly renovated library across the other side of the red keep. She gave no time for you to reply before it was shoved into your face.

Mariyanna,

I must apologize as there has been a mistake. I did not send any letter to you after our dances. I believe my mother has taken it upon myself to incite conversation between us. However, I quite enjoyed your reply, and I would like to talk more this evening. Please do me the pleasure of accompany me on a walk along the grounds.

Prince Aemond

“My letter has captured him! Can you believe it!? A prince!” You almost laughed at her. Almost.

“Why are you here and not racing down to find him?”

��I do not know what to talk about I need some tips. I know he studies philosophy and he read many books according to Lady Ariyanna. I need you to give me some talking points!” She begged.

“You want talking points on books you’ve never read? Little Anna I am sure you must simply be yourself and he will fall in love with you. Do not mould yourself into something you are not. He would be a fool not to be enticed instantly for your charm and beauty.” You brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled at the delight that had consumed her entire being.

“I know! And I won’t! I just need some extra wit. I need your brains. You are the most intelligent person I know. Just this once. Afterwards I shall use my own letters and interests.” You sat staring at one another for a second before you simply sighed.

“Fine.”

You had one hour to drill small jests and facts about your favourite books. You discussed quickly about Ten Thousand Ships and the journey Nymeria faced in her battle to be Queen. You kept it short and simply, but hoped it was enough for her to act out her silly little infatuation with the young prince. For your sister’s sake. She could not sit still from the nerves of what was to come, and you swore there was no way she would recall everything. It felt she was hardly listening, but your sister was treating the whole thing quite seriously.

When she left you, you moved to gaze out from the window and looked down to the gardens below. You had the perfect view of your nervous sister. She was cautious as she moved towards the looming figure of the prince, his arms crossed behind his back and his posture standing tall. He was looking upon the oak tree you had sat yesterday but turned as he realised your sister had crept forth. They bowed, and you imagined they greeted each other, before beginning the boring small talk that comes with meeting someone new. But when you saw your sister begin laughing, and his arm move to offer itself to her, you knew your tips had paid off.

Moving away with a sigh, you returned to your book.

That was all you would do for their courtship now.

+++

You don’t know how your sister did it, but letter upon letter you had exchanged with Prince Aemond over the last few months. It quickly became easier than breathing. His interests were the same as yours, and his humour yours too. The books he suggested kept you enticed to the very last page, and he wrote that your recommendations happened to do the very same. You found him charming, however not overbearing, and you quickly realised you had dug yourself the deepest grave. You had never loved anyone.

Until now.

“Mention how I enjoyed his thoughts on Lies of the Ancients! Oh, and that I have come to agree the Starks made up all their stories to look really powerful!” You looked at your sister, disturbed by her ridiculous take.

“I will not write that.” You muttered. You don’t remember how she coerced you in to writing this letter, yet here you were, scribbling stupid quips and more enticing conversation starter.

“It was what Aemond told me. It will show I was listening!”

“Mary, he is playing with you. No one regards Archmaester Fomas’s writing as anything more than an old man raving his madness to the masses. If he brought it up, I believe... well, I believe he was making a joke.” You grimaced at your sister, trying hard not to imagine her nodding along to Aemond Targaryen’s dry humour.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well write that I thought it was a funny jest.” She leaned her weight on to your back to get a full view of the stupid letter. You groaned beneath her with a huff but decided that you would mention that you knew he was jesting with his thoughts. You did not want your sister to come off as a halfwit. Or perhaps it was that you did not want him to think you a halfwit.

“There. Mariyanna, I truly mean it when I say this is the last time, I shall do this. It does not feel right to mislead Prince Aemond.” You pushed the letter away in defeat for her to sign, which she happily scribbled on. You heart ached from the entire ordeal. At night you found yourself craving the idea of Aemond finding out the truth, but you also resented the idea of your sister being left broken. She brought the letter to her lips and placed a small kiss to the corner of it, leaving her lip paint to stain the very edge.

“I know. I just don’t want to lose his attention. He is so tall and strong and princely. If it is not me who mothers his children, I do not know how I shall survive.” Her giggling was infectious, and you thought you hoped her happiness would never fade. So much so, you knew you were willing to give up your own for your sweet little sister.

“Just... be careful little Anna. I worry you have fallen too deep into something that could implode in any moment.” You hoped she would heed your warning, but the youthfulness glee did not fade from her eyes, leaving you in doubt that she had even heard. Her snickering suddenly came to a stop when the sound of the libraries grand door clicked open. You cursed inwardly, how many people were to invade the only peaceful part of the whole keep? She eyed you uncertainly and you quickly shrugged back in panicked confusion. She shrugged back at you even harder making you roll your eyes and point for her to see who had entered.

“Why me?” She mouthed. You rolled your eyes and shoved her off her chair, leaving her no choice to silently toe towards the edge of the bookcase. Leaned forward in anticipation, you almost cried out in fright as she swung around in panic.

“What!?” You hissed, bouncing to your feet in fear of whatever danger had entered. She quickly began shooing you away with her hands and began tidying the desk you had left sprawled with your readings.

“Go!” She mouthed silently at you again. You angrily threw your hands up in frustration at her choice not to answer, but the sound of man clearing his throat halted your every movement.

“My ears may deceive me, but I thought I heard your laughter, Lady Mariyanna.” Your jaw opened and closed in shock before you desperately began waving to your sister.

“Not here!” You quietly begged her. You did not want to see. You did not need the image of him staring upon your sister and whispering in her ear. You wanted to preserve what you had with him in your stupid letters.

“What do I do!? Why do I say I was in here for?” She grasped your shoulder and pulled you into her, shaking you for an answer. Stumbling in disbelief, you shook your head. You were both rattled by this turn of events, but you still could think unlike your sister.

“Fucking reading you idiot!” You hissed, making her almost slap her forehead.

“Right? Fuck what book?” She haphazardly began spinning on her spot, and you both desperately tried to find a book.

“Let me come and find you, my prince!” She cried out in fake delight before staring at you franticly. You both shrugged violently at each other and began glaring in alarm.

“You must leave. I will not be able to hide here long.” The sound of footsteps grew closer, leaving your sister no choice but to shove you away.

“No need. Who I am to draw you away from your readings?” The voice called out. You stilled for a second over the calmness of his voice.

“I’ll just read what you were reading.” She was alarmed by how close he was and quickly gave up the effort of finding a book.

“No!” You cried out quietly as you stumbled behind the bookcase. She ignored your cry and left you to crouch down out of sight, biting your knuckle in shame for what was about to happen. You were secluded enough behind the shelves that you were hidden from the great Aemond Targaryen, but you found you had a perfect view of the meeting. You watched in trepidation as he slowly stepped to the table that your sister had managed to gracefully sit at, after she had calmed herself from the madness that had taken over you both.

“My lady.” He bowed before her, leaving her nothing more than a blushing mess. If you had not have been in the clutches of utter panic at your precarious position, you would have rolled your eyes at her folly.

“Prince Aemond. I did not expect you!” She was flustered by his towering figure leaning over her, and quickly moved to stand, but he gently lay a hand on her shoulder to keep her sitting comfortably before him. Breathing in deeply, he let his eye rake over the shelves making you quickly duck away from his gaze. It was a surprise your beating heart did not give you away for you swore every person in the kingdom could hear it.

“No need for such formalities. It is I who has intruded upon your time; therefore, it is I who should be paying you the respect you deserve.” His tone did not match the sentiment as you had never heard such an unwavering, and proper speech come from any man in the court. No one could deny the authority that seeped from his very being, nor the power he held in his mere stance. Something quivered inside you at the sight of him, but it was in the most delicious way possible.

“I do not consider it an intrusion my prince. I am always grateful for your company.” Mariyanna squeaked out, her face the deepest shade of pink you had ever seen. You wondered how she had managed to converse with him this far?

“Please, you know I wish for you to call me Aemond.” The corner of his lip seemed to move upwards, and you wondered if that was his idea of a smile. Gazing upon his face, you found yourself struck by just how handsome the prince was. You had heard him to be described as frightening and dangerous, but no one had mentioned how sharp his jaw was. Your sister had informed you that his face simple, but pretty enough, and you felt the need to wring out her neck right then and there. How could she be so blind?

“Yes, my prince.” Anna sighed out dreamily and this time not even the panic of the situation could stop you from rolling your eyes.

“Are you enjoying your book?” Aemond enquired, reaching down and bringing the cover to his face. Your sister was too busy in her own realm of glee to notice the way his remaining eye widened in shock. You inwardly groaned.

“Oh yes! I am learning so much! I really think it one of the greatest books ever written.” Your sister tried to feign interest, placing her chin upon her hand and smiling up at Aemond. You had groaned even louder in your head. It was a shock when Aemond let out a breathless chuckle.

“Well... you continue to surprise me. Perhaps you shall have to tell me what you learn by the end." You could not blame Aemond for thinking your sister was being flirtatious because the book you had been reading was A Caution for Young Girls, a book banned from most libraries in the seven kingdoms for its erotica and sinfulness. It was infamous, so when it was passed back to your sister to look upon, even she knew what the novel was about.

“Oh god no! Not me!” She cried out in shock before throwing it across the library franticly. She quickly began spewing out apologies for presenting such an ungodly object before Aemond, while he simply looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“You do not need to worry. I shall not disclose it to anyone.” He tried to jest but it simply made her more frantic.

“I’m sorry you see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father. see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father.” You did not miss the way she hissed, knowing fully well that she intended you to hear her anger. You flinched into yourself, mortified that the prince would now think you a sexual deviant before you were to even become acquainted. You had only wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

“You have never mentioned a sister?” Perhaps Aemond was trying to defuse your sister’s panic, but the statement tugged at your heart hard. How had your sister not thought to mention you after all these meetings over these past few months.

“Yes... well... she doesn’t leave her room much, you see? She, well everyone thinks she is quite simple.” The tug was so harsh you felt your entire heart shatter inside your ribcage. As if she heard, Mariyanna looked apologetically towards where you were hidden. Aemond was gazing solemnly out the window so you simply took the opportunity to make sure she could see the way your lifter your middle finger in her direction.

“Cunt.” You mumbled, before quickly ducking once more as Aemond turned.

“I understand. My brother is the simplest person in the entire seven kingdoms. It seems we have much in common.” This time he finally did smile down at your sister, who in return, linked her arms tightly in his.

“Well at least we have each other to keep company.” She gazed up at Aemond from beneath her eyelashes, and you didn’t miss the way his eye softened.

“I came here for a reason, actually.” He muttered; his gaze unbroken from hers. He frowned as she quickly moved her gaze to anywhere but his scarred skin that was hidden beneath his eye patch but continued anyways. “I wished to invite you to dinner with my siblings tonight. I would like to introduce you to my sister Heleana and younger brother Daeron. Unfortunately, Aegon will also be attending but perhaps you can invite your brainless sister to entertain him.” His description left you heart squeezed, drained of every drop of happiness and leaving it to bleed through his tight grasp.

“She will be there. I’ll make sure of it. Now come, let us wonder the gardens! It is a beautiful day outside! Much too beautiful to be cooped up in here. It’s so dusty.” Your sister danced away merrily, happy to have succeeded in diverting away from a disastrous interaction. You swore you heard Aemond follow, so with a huff you stood straight and began stretching out your cramped limbs. When you gazed at the door, however, you saw him lingering, playing with the note you had written for him only moments ago. You watched the soft chuckle as he read it, and the way his demeanour seemed to lighten.

“Continuing to surprise me.” He huffed, before slowly bringing the edge of it to his lips. The act was intimate, much to intimate for you to be gazing on. Stumbling back, you tried to remove yourself, but your skirt knocked down a book from a top its stack, and Aemond swung around in haste. You saw him begin stalking forward to find the source of the noise, making you cover your mouth and bite down hard on your palm.

“Who goes there?” He whispered, prying his head around the bookcase. If Mariyanna was to renter, she would see Aemond standing above you, the only thing keeping you hidden was the books and cloths hanging over the shelf. You heard him inhale deeply, and for a moment you felt like prey being hunted by an animal. But she never came, and instead she called.

“My Prince!” Her laughter floated about the room, making Aemond instantly straighten with a huff.

“Hmmm.” He whispered, before turning and stalking off in her direction. You did not realised your skirt had been in plain view.

Shamefully, you agreed to attend the meal with no argument. You would like to sit before Aemond once, even if it was to watch his courtship of your sister. Absolutely shameful.

“I am happy you joined us, Mariyanna! My brother has talked a lot about you. A lot. Like all the time! Yesterday, I was showing him some art and he said it reminded him of this poem you had suggested he read. Even though he doesn’t like poetry. And, when you said you read that stupid book about ancient people lying, he was so amazed he didn’t shut up about it for a whole week! AND...”

“Daeron, please, for the love of the gods shut up.” Helaena quipped up, placing a protective hand on Aemond’s sleeve. Daeron giggled mischievously, his childish humour leaving only him amused. The glare Aemond sent his way left him clutching hard at the table trying not to let himself howl out in delight. You were seated beside him, with Aegon boredly picking his teeth in the reflection of his soup spoon on you other side. Helaena was perched across from him but was seated beside her obviously favourite brother Aemond. Mariyanna was seated on his other side. This meant Aemond and yourself were seated directly across from one another, and due to Helaena forcing the dinner to be an intimate event, your legs were almost touching his under the small table. The heat that radiated off him, and the accidently touches of his long legs had you pressing your thighs together as tightly as possible.

You do not know what possessed you to read that stupid book.

“Thank you for being kind enough to invite me.” Your sister ducked her head in appreciation, and you quietly sighed as no one paid any mind to you. It was a shock, however, when you raised your gaze and saw Aemond staring upon you, as if analysing your very soul. Without a second thought, you stared at him in the exact same way.

“Yes, my brother says you love all those stupid books. I’ve been trying to convince my mother to renovate that ancient library in the south corner of the keep and turn it into a theatre for us to watch plays. The commonfolk have some fucking hilarious skits.” Aegon laughed ignorantly, and you watched your sister laugh too.

“Oh no!” Your words came before your thoughts, and everyone quickly turned to you. You quickly looked at your sister for some support only to see her looking at you in frustration. “My sister loves that library.” You coughed out, and Mariyanna quickly nodded in agreement.

“It’s filthy. The new one is much nicer.” Aegon pointed out. Mariyanna kept nodding, getting confused with who she should comply with, but you shook your head.

“It’s too busy. And it censors the books too much.” You muttered falling into your seat to try and hide yourself from the attention. Aemond chuckled at your words, before beginning to tap his fingers a top the table.

“Yes. I hear you enjoy the restricted section of the library.” He smirked at you, thinking he knew a secret that you didn’t. Led to believe that he was alone in the library with your sister. But you were there, and you understood his words perfectly, leaving you reddened in shame.

“Oh really? How obscene do you enjoy your novels?” Aegon was suddenly interested as he snaked his arm around your chair and leaned in with a grin.

“Ugh.” You grunted out in disgust without thinking, leaving Mariyanna gasping in shock.

“Forgive my sister she...” She was drowned out by the laughter the three siblings shared at the treatment of their brother.

“Move away from her Aegon.” Aemond sighed. Aegon sighed in mock defeat, before turning his attention to swirling his wine. Looking away, you tried to turn your attention to your sister, but was caught by Aemond’s gaze once more.

“You do not come to any of my mother’s dances, am I right?” Shifting nervously, you quickly shook your head.

“I find my sister is much better at those types of things. I like to live through her little stories.” He hummed at your reply, before drawing his goblet to his lips.

“And what do you do in your spare time? Write?” Your sister and you stared panicked at one another, before you quickly shook your head. Helaena stared confused at the three of your, but Aemond simply looked at you. Nowhere else. His eye was on you.

“Not me.” The squeak of your voice mimicked that of your sister’s fluster under his gaze. Mariyanna was biting down hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry. She thought it obvious you had been caught.

“I just noticed the ink stains on your fingers. It was a simple assumption.” You quickly hid your fingers in the sleeve of your gown and tried to think up an excuse. But everything thought seemed to evade you.

“Not me.” You repeated quietly. The room fell silent for a moment, everyone staring between yourself and Aemond, but then you found yourself saved by the servants. The doors swung open as they swarmed in, carrying different trays of food and began arranging your feast on the small table. You quickly looked at your sister who widened her eyes in question. You simply widened your eyes back. You also did not understand what was happening.

“I have been so hungry this whole time.” Daeron moaned as he began piling his plate with potato's. Everyone moved to reach for a dish, so you quickly reached for the spoon that was within the soup dish. It also happened to be the dish Aemond reached for leaving you both grasping onto the tips of each other's fingers instead of the spoon. You quickly pulled back and cradled your hand with widened eyes. The touch had sent a sensation down your entire being, even all the way to your toes, leaving you with no choice but to curl them up inside your slippers.

“Apologies.” You choked out, looking down shamefully. You cursed yourself in embarrassment, declaring to yourself that he really will think you simple and brainless at the end of this dinner. He simply hummed at your regret, before lifting your bowl towards him. Without a word, he poured you a serving before returning it to you. No words were spoken as you nodded in appreciation.

+++

The dinner had gone smoothly after that. Perhaps smoothly wasn’t the right word. You had to cradle Mariyanna in your arms as she had spent the whole time after sobbing. Aemond had not paid her much attention to her, and she thought it obvious he had figured out that it was you who had captured him all those months ago.

“Shhh you do not know that to be true.”

“I do! I saw the way he was looking at you.” You had patted down her hair in comfort as she shook in your arms. You could not celebrate at the idea that Aemond might have figured it out because you heart ached for your sister.

“Even if he has figured out that it was I that was writing the letters, it does not mean he did not fall for you after all those hours he spent courting you.” You tried to reassure her, but her broken cries only got louder.

“I could tell he did not like our talks. I am not dumb. I knew when I laughed at the wrong times and disagreed and agreed on his thoughts mistakenly. I knew he only liked me because of your letters. I just thought with more time he might grow fond of me.” You shushed her crushed sobs and pressed a kiss atop her head.

“If he did not grow fond of your little Anna, then he is a fool.” You whispered. She lay in your arms a little longer, before letting out a long exhale. She quickly sniffed, before sitting herself up and wiping her eyes.

“It is okay.” She whispered, pinching her cheeks and quickly blinking away her tears. You were shocked by her sudden change of demeanour, but she ignored you and moved to her window. With a frown you slowly stood, scared any sudden movement would break her once more.

“Mary...”

“Veron Greyjoy has asked me to wed him. I think I shall accept it.” She gazed out, as if she had not mentioned something so immense.

“What?” You rushed to her side, but she simply sighed at you like you were an idiot. Clasping your hands with hers, she finally looked at you.

“My courtship with Aemond was flawed. I had to make sure I had other options. Of course, marrying a prince of Westeros was the ideal option but I was not dumb enough to think there was a certain likeliness of me wedding him. Unlike you, I do not mind if I marry for security. So, I entertained some men on the side. I have had a few other proposals of course, but I enjoy Veron’s company the most.” You could not speak from the shock of her news, but Mary simply kissed your fingers.

“What of Aemond?”

“He was kind, of course. And I would have been happy to wed him because I believe he shall make a wonderful husband. But I do not love him.” Disbelief. It is all that you felt. But you should not have been surprised. Your baby sister was born to thrive amongst the court, and you were a fool for thinking her dim-witted. Perhaps she was a greater schemer than Otto Hightower?

“You’re fucking insane.” You let out a breathless laugh, as you stumbled to leave her room.

“At first I was committed to him.” She called. You turned back to look at her smirking face. “But I started looking elsewhere when I saw you sign one of those letters with your own name.” Staring at her with a gaping mouth, you could not believe what was happening.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You muttered defensively. It only made her chuckle.

“You have my permission.”

“For what!?”

“You may let him court you. I know you love him. And who am I to get in the way of that? I do not remember a time you showed interest in any man.” She smiled lovingly at your blushing form while you stood spluttering out sentences of denial.

“He is a prince.” You finally whispered in defeat. You could never hide anything from her.

“And you shall be a fine princess.”

+++

You could not sleep after your talk with your sister. You had spent your night twisting and turning under the moonlight that streamed in from your window. So, with a huff, you found yourself marching to the library in a robe. Carrying a candle and allowing your hair to flow freely as your bare feet slapped upon the stone hallways, you were sure to have looked like a madwoman, but you were to frazzled to care. It was only when you made it into your hideaway within the library, that you finally allowed yourself to relax. You began lighting the candles upon the walls so that you had enough light to read and allowed yourself to reach for the book Ten Thousand Ships. During your exchanges with Aemond, you had spent many letters discussing Nymeria and her reign over Dorne. It was your favourite piece of literature, and it was his too.

You couldn’t read. You tried. Gods you tired. But the longer you stared at a page, the more distorted the words became. Instead, your mind was only on Aemond.

“You deceived me.” The sudden voice that came from between the shelves made you scream in shock. The book dropped as you quickly pushed yourself back in fear. But it only took a moment to be reminded whose voice that was. You watched as Aemond stepped forth from the shadows, still in his leather pants from dinner, but now just a sheer white undershirt covering his torso. The candlelight illuminated his face as he moved forward, and you breath hitched at the sight. He no longer had his eyepatch strapped up, but instead he left his missing eye bare for you to see. You expected a sunken hole where his missing eye once was, but the light caught on the sapphire, and you watched it glisten. You were awed, and when he noticed you did not look away from his scarring, he could not help but look upon you fondly. Swallowing your anxiousness, you simply bowed your head.

“I am sorry Aemond. Truly.” You cursed yourself for being so informal and allowing yourself to call him by his name, and when you watched him clench then unclench his fists, you thought you had already ruined everything.

“I could have you arrested for such fraudulence.” He muttered beneath his breath, making your neck bow even further. You felt tears spring to the corners of your eyes while you tried to gain composer.

“It is true. And perhaps I deserve it. I did not intend for it to go this far.” Your breath was shaky as you exhaled your words and allowed yourself to slowly lift your gaze. You expected to see Aemond glaring, full of hatred at the revelation that he had been played a fool, but he was simply looking down at you with an amused smile.

“I jest. I shall not have you arrested.” He apologised with a smirk, and this time your heart began to race for different reasons. No longer were you in fear of imprisonment, for now all you care for was the way Aemond Targaryen was standing above you in hardly any clothes, while you were sitting on the ground like a peasant with no shoes and untidy hair. You could not look away from the way his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and it was at that moment that you realise how unkept it was. It looked as if he had run his fingers through it a million times and in different directions.

“I could find no sleep.” You whispered. He exhaled a breath and let out a soft hum.

“Neither could I. My mind is... preoccupied.” You nodded in understanding and felt your heart soar from your chest. You were no fool. You know what was happening.

“Will you sit with me?” You suggested as you began clearing away the books you had scattered across the floor. Aemond did not need to think as he gracefully dropped to his knees and allowed himself to fall to your side. Trying to make yourselves comfortable, he let his hand stretch you behind you, and you were quick to fall into his side.

“Are you still reading A Caution for Young Girls?” You felt yourself choke at his jest, before allowing yourself to laugh.

“No. I finished it.” You smirked while pulling your book back into your lap. “Hmmm. A shame.” He whispered, leaving a tingling sensation running down your spine.

“I found it... enlightening.” You smirked as you ran your thumb across your lower lip. You felt him push his nose in your hair and you both couldn’t help but smile. You let out something between a moan and a laugh, before holding up Ten Thousand Ships.

“I believe you are familiar?” You teased. He let his teeth draw in his bottom lip quickly before chuckling at your question.

“I know something of it.” You went to turn the next page but stopped as you felt him move your wild hair to the side.

“Let us start again.” He whispered. Reaching down to your hand, he pulled up your fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I am Aemond Targaryen, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

#aemond targaryen fic #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond

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sissylittlefeather · 26 days

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Hi Sissy! If it’s not too late, could you do a Fic of Elvis based on the song “Help Me Make It Through the Night?” Like Elvis and you know you’re not good for each other, but you can’t stay away. Can develop into smut but if you’d prefer not, that’s okay too! If it’s too late, I completely understand! Thank you! 😊

@peaceloveelvis Hi! Definitely not too late! First of all, this is one of my most favorite songs. I actually have a series planned to go with this song later, so stay tuned. But also, I haven't written anything without smut in a LONG TIME. This one came out this way and I might revisit it to expand on the smut later if there's interest, but I kind of like it without it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ficlet!

Help Me Make It Through the Night

Warnings: none really, cussing, mentions of sex

------------------------------------------------------

Elvis has been a part of your life since you met him during his Timex special with Frank Sinatra. The only thing you did more than make love relentlessly was fight endlessly. The nights were hot, but the mornings never failed to conclude with both of you yelling and at least one of you crying. There was no end to the way you loved each other or the way you managed to drive each other insane. There was always something to fight about and you left each other every time swearing you'd never be together again. But somehow, you'd end up in the same place and before you knew it you were naked in an elevator or in his backseat or in a bathroom or a hotel bed in some sketchy by-the-hour kind of place. Even after he got married, you didn't stop. Your pattern of fucking and fighting stayed the same.

In 1969, though, you had a particularly spirited tryst that ended with both of you saying things you regretted almost instantly. But you were both too stubborn to admit it, so instead you threw a shoe at him and screamed at him to get out and he called you a name and swore he'd never end up in your bed again. This time, the pain you caused cut so deep that you both insisted you'd never give in again. It was over, for real this time. The hurt was too much to make the good times worth it.

So, you did what any self-respecting woman would do. You married someone else.

When he heard about it, he broke an end table and all the things sitting on it in a fit of rage and jealousy and something else he was afraid to admit.

On your wedding night, you cried yourself to sleep with your new husband snoring quietly next to you in the bed.

Then, in 1971, you find yourself walking down the street and come upon a loud and frantic crowd. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you look to see what all the commotion is about. The crowd parts like ill-meaning clouds and he looks up at just the wrong moment.

His blue eyes pierce you straight through to your soul, even from across the street. Something inside you jumps and your hand goes to your throat. Memories of every time you've ever been together slam into you like a freight train and you're somewhere between ecstasy and wanting to die. By the look on his face, you can tell he's experiencing something similar. Everything inside you is screaming at you to go to him, but you feel the cold little ring on your finger and know that you can't. You turn and walk away as quickly as you can. He fights to get away from the crowd around him, but by the time he does, you're gone.

******

You're pacing the floor of your living room when the phone rings. Even several hours later, you haven't recovered from your encounter. You pick the phone up aggressively, annoyed to be distracted by the call.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Presley would like you to meet him tonight at the Presidential Motel at 11pm." Your blood runs cold.

"Why?" The line clicks with no answer. He's left the ball in your court and you hate it. You won't meet him. You just won't. He's impossible.

But at 10:45pm you're in your car. You've spent the last several hours trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him. You finally decide you're going to see him just to tell him that you don't care what he says; you were serious last time. This is not a thing anymore and it never will be again.

At 11:06pm, you sit in the parking lot of the motel, a battle raging inside you.

"This is stupid." You mutter, finally getting out of the car. At the desk, you ask which room Mr. John Burrows is staying in. The clerk tells you and you stomp towards his room getting more and more angry as you walk. The nerve of him to think he can just summon you like this.

You pound on the door with every ounce of rage your body can contain flowing through you. The door opens slowly and your heart skips. Why does he have to look so good?

"You came."

"What the fuck could you possibly want to say to me?! The last time you saw me you called me a whore and said you'd rather swallow a knife than see me again. So, whatever you have to-"

"I miss you."

"You... what?" He speaks again slowly and deliberately.

"I miss you." It feels like your stomach has fallen to your kneecaps. "I'm lonely, honey."

"Call your wife."

"Will ya just... no. I want you."

"Have you forgotten-"

"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry." He's never apologized to you before. You stand in stunned silence just outside the door.

"You're-"

"Sorry. Yes. Now, will you come in please?" You stand there completely lost. Finally, he grabs your arm and drags you into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"What the hell, Elvis?!" He pulls you close to him and presses his lips to yours. For a second, you melt into him. Then, you remember why you were mad and pull away angrily.

"No, I'm not-" He pulls you in again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you more deeply this time. You fight to get away, but he holds you tightly. Eventually you're able to escape his grasp and you push him backwards. He goes to grab you again and you slap him across the face. Your hands go to your mouth in shock and he looks at you stunned.

"Oh god, I'm-"

"I guess I deserved that." He walks to the bed and sits down. "You actually hate me, don't you?"

You stand there for a few seconds before sitting down beside him on the bed.

"No. I don't. But we said this was done."

"I know. I'm just... I'm alone, honey. And I miss you so much it hurts worse than being with you." You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. It comes to you that he must be pretty desperate to put himself in this position.

"You're alone?"

"You know how it gets for me. There's people everywhere, but I just... I miss you."

"Why me?" He rolls his eyes and looks at you finally.

"You gonna make me say it?"

"Yes. If you want me to stay here, then-"

"I love you. I've been in love with you since I met you. You're the only one I want when I feel like this and it's been so long-" You reach out and put your hand on his knee and he looks down at it, setting his on top of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You're used to these vulnerable moments from him. They're what has brought you together over and over throughout the years. So when he breaks down and sobs, you pull him into your arms and hold him without thinking. Somehow you end up lying in the bed with him cuddled tightly against you, head on your chest. You stroke his hair and hum quietly. This is a familiar position for the two of you and you've missed it more than you care to admit.

Eventually, his breathing evens out and you realize he's fallen asleep. You kick your shoes off and snuggle in to spend the night. As angry as you were, you can't deny him what he needs because the truth is you love him too and you always have. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly. You've missed this too.

******

In the morning, you make love and it's sweet and sensual and exactly what you've both been needing. And this time you don't fight. Somewhere in the year you were apart, you grew. The love that you have is more important than anything that might separate you.

And as you lay naked together, the world opens up for you. He talks about leaving his wife and you decide your husband will be better off without you.

Will it happen? Will you finally find a way to be together in a way that works for you both? You don't know.

But you made it through this night together. Something tells you that you can make it through anything now.

******

The end?

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#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fluff #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley x you

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unlikely-gravestones · 2 years

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Ok, but a Dreamling fic where either:

A) Dream is courting Hob, but Hob doesn't know

B) Hob is courting Dream, but Dream doesn't know

I mean, it literally works either way, and yes I will be promptly expanding on that right now.

Let's take fic A: Give me Dream courting Hob but in an obscure way, like taking him to Fiddlers Green (aka the heart of the Dreaming) and showing him one of his most beloved creations; give me Dream conjuring specific foods from Hob's past, meals and desserts that he knows Hob still idly daydreams about but can't find anymore, or don't taste quite right. Yet the ones Dream gift him taste exactly like how he remembers.

Dream shows his favour for Hob by steering clear his nightmares, sometimes even personally curating a dream when he can't visit him himself. And visit him Dream does - both in The Dreaming and in The Waking. When Hob enters his realm, most nights Morpheus can be found within his dreams, allowing Hob to shape the world around them as he sees fit unless Morpheus wants to show him something in particular.

And when Dream does show him around... think of Hob complimenting stuff in the Dreaming, slightly flustering Morpheus because he is unrelenting is his curiosity and awe at Dreams realm, at his creations-

Dream thinking to himself that Hob is such a FLIRT, because The Dreaming and everything in it is Morpheus, so of course he takes pride in it...but here's Hob praising it all left right and centre. Hob's obvious wonder and verbal appreciation of anywhere they go or anything Dream does (because there are no limits in the dreaming and oh my god is there a dragon on that castle...YOUR CASTLE??...i didn't even have a castle wtf) just makes Dreams feelings all the more tender and...its worth the surprised look Lucienne gives him when he only smiles fondly at Hob while the immortal praises the magnificence of the library and the quality of the printing.

In The Waking (and they do meet frequently in the waking because Hob will be damned if he ever waits 100 years to see Dream again), Hob is surprised by how warm Dream is towards him; he no longer sits rigid and regal but instead relaxes into his seat, sometimes tapping Hob's shoe under the table with his own when he sits down, though Hob's sure it's an accident (the first time, it was). He smiles more often, though no more freely- its the same small knowing smile he's always had, and it melts Hob as much as it surprises him. He doesn't know why Dream seems more...fond, but he's not going to be the one to point it out lest Dream stop or leave him again. The attentions nice anyway, from His Dream.

Just give me Dream doing stuff that to HIM is romantic but to Hob its mildly confusing yet very pleasant. And again, Hob will gladly take all of this without question because even though he feels just a little bit like there's something he's not getting, he won't risk upsetting Dream again. He knows it wasn't Dreams fault for missing their 1989 meeting, but he still did storm out of their 1889 meeting and all hell broke loose for him in the years that followed. Hob figures its better to accept all the welcome changes and gifts, rather than put his foot in his mouth again by bringing it up and risking Dream leaving, risking not know where his friend is or if he's safe.

AND FIC B. Give me Hob deciding to court Dream, to go old school and work his way up to asking him out because he needs to gauge his reactions first before he dives all in. Hob learnt a lesson in 1889, and so while he might be taking some of the courage he had back then to start courting Dream, he wouldn't put himself out there like that again and have it backfire even more monumentally. No, he'll work his way up to it.

Give me Hob asking Dream to meet him at places outside the Inn, simply taking walks together and enjoying good conversation. He lays a hand on Dreams shoulder when they part, the other balled up in his jacket pocket from nerves, and the smile on his face from Dream allowing it, from Dream looking at his hand on his shoulder and then smiling at Hob in that small knowing way he always does... Hob doesn't stop grinning for the rest of the night.

Give me Hob tapping his shoe against Dreams under the table sometimes, to emphasise a point, to touch him without being obvious. Give me Hob, in the dreaming, shaping the world around them to be a beautiful flowering meadow where the colour of the blossoms match that of Dreams eyes. Have him conjure wine - wine with no name for all he thinks when creating it in his dream is that it simply must be the finest - and watch Dream, for perhaps the first time ever, drink something with him.

Give me Hob complimenting the Dreaming, yes again, because truly it is astounding in its beauty and complexity, but also because he thinks its cute how Morpheus smiles and looks from under his eyelashes at him. Give me Hob buying a pair of earrings for Dream because they glistened like stars when he walked past them, and now he's panicking because what the fuck was he thinking and they're dainty but feel like they're burning a hole through his pocket as he waits for Dream and he probably has time to run upstairs above the Inn and put them down in his flat but-

Dream walks in the door, so he's stuck. And maybe he picks up on Hob's nervous energy, because shortly after sitting down his face becomes serious and he asks Hob what's wrong. And Hob is sweating bullets but he just looks at him for a moment and pulls the earrings out of his jacket pocket, setting them gently on the table between them.

And Dreams confused, but when Hob manages to get out a "For you. They're uh, for you." He relaxes and gives Hob a pleased but surprised "For me?". Give me Hob explaining that he saw them and thought of Dream, trying to pass it off as casual because he doesn't know if he's being too hasty and if it'll scare him off, but also trying to say just enough that if Dream were interested, he'd pick up on it.

Suffice to say Hob's brain stops working the next time he sees Dream, wearing the earrings he bought. He's out of it for a solid 15 minutes, eyes mostly focused on the shine of the gems and holy shit he's actually wearing them oh my god he put them on is he interested is he accepting my courtship holy shit oh wait fuck he's looking at me what did he say what did I say-

Give me Hob picking a flower for him on one of their walks, handing it over with a simple "For you". Hob brushing their fingers together on the table at the inn, resting his foot against Dreams. Hob tugging Dreams sleeve to get him to lay down in the grass beside him in Fiddlers Green, occasionally tapping his foot with his or pressing his arm against him as he talks.

Hob actually flirting with Morpheus, emboldened by the earrings his soon to be lover continues to wear. Dream amassing a small shrine of tokens and gifts Hob brings him, ones he's always pleased though still confused to get. He did not think humans partook in gift giving this often, but perhaps he was mistaken.

The most important part of either fic is that the one doing the courting thinks its going great. And by all means...it is. Both parties are happy, though one is slightly confused. And I don't imagine they would get far physically without this misunderstanding coming to light; Hob would def ask to kiss Dream and Dream would go "...what?" because while the idea is pleasing, for him it's coming out of nowhere while for Hob, they've been working towards it for months and thats fine bc hes got all the time in the world and he would never rush Dream.

Cue Hob losing the confidence he had two seconds ago (Hob's had centuries to become well acquainted with himself in every aspect, he's confident in most things about himself but when it comes to Dream...hes always flipping between confidence and foolishness). Hob just being like "wdym what 🤠" and slowly they both realise they've been living two different realities these past few months.

Alternatively, Dream I think would also ask to kiss Hob...to which, you guessed it, Hob responds with "...what?". There's still a smile on his face, though it's more in confusion now and his eyebrows are drawn. And I def think Dream would just look at him for a moment before repeating "I asked if I may kiss you, Hob Gadling. Our courtship has gone so well, I should like to take it further, if you are willing."

"...courtship? Dream, what...what courtship?"

And of course, this would be the point where slowly they both realise they've been living two different realities these past few months. And, because Dream is Dream, this conversation would absolutely end with him on the verge of tears, whisking himself away back to the dreaming or simply "This dream is over" ing Hob if they were in The Dreaming to begin with. Hob would reach for him with a "No, wait-" but it's useless because Dreams gone either way.

Has to have a happy ending though, Hob's stubborn enough that he just calls for Dream when he goes to sleep again (says a mix of things- pleads for Dream to come talk to him, says he's honoured to be courted, threatens to bang pots and pans together outside his castle cause fuck it he'll find a way to get there, Lucienne will let him in or Matthew would show him the way if he asked he's sure, he even apologises at some point because it's beginning to feel like 1889 all over again).

It probably just ends up with Hob loudly confessing his own love in a multitude of ways, because what has he got to lose if Dreams left him already. Except Dream hasn't left, and he comes back, soothed by Hob's declaration of affection and perhaps slightly chastised by Lucienne for assuming Hob would understand the meaning of his odd courting rituals (I like to think he threw himself into a room all dramatic like and Lucienne just ends up standing outside the door going "...Did we ask Hob if he would accept being courted? No?...Did we research human courting customs and try to incorporate some of those, my lord? No?....*insert knowing silence*..." bc I KNOW Lucienne out here using the royal "we" while dealing with Dream).

Anyway. Big thoughts. Feel free to have at this if anyone wants to write anything, I just need a "We're courting" "...We are?" friends to lovers happy ending angst hurt/comfort fic.

(This post is long enough but also there's a secret 3rd option where one of them THINKS they're being courted by the other, so they respond in kind with gifts of their own and genuinely think the other person is trying to court them so they accept and go along with it bc...theyre idiots in love, your honour. But, as is the theme, there's a fundamental miscommunication where they're not actually being courted, the other just feels more secure in their 'friendship' and therefore brings gifts and touches bc they're friends now right and friends do that...not for any other reason...)

#And the angst needs to be ANGSTY #I thrive off it #So long as u gimme that good happy ending I will EAT IT UP #Anyway #God this took me an illegal amount of time to write #Usually I ramble for a very long time in the tags but honestly my brain is fried rn and I think I got all of them down anyway #I'm insssaaannnneeee rn #sandman #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #fanfic #hob x dream #Morpheus

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works-of-heart · 1 month

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"E/riel has plot!"

What plot? If they're already 'in love,' what's the plot for them to fall in love?

Oh Forbidden romance?

...You mean how Elain ISN'T FORCED AT ALL to accept this mating bond? How literally no one is forcing her hand one way or another and it's up to HER whether she wants to accept her mate or not?

How Rhys challenged Azriel to show he had ANY feelings beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to, but fell short?

Or how Rhys said that if Elain DID choose to reject it, that she would have their support? (Clearly Rhysand isn't standing in the way if Azriel's feelings for her were anything beyong "the fantasies he pleasured himself to." or could at least say with his chest he was over Mor.

Oh, you mean the tons of other 'theories' that e/riel has come up with that literally destroys all the character/ story build up she's been writing? Having an SA survivor be evil and luring men. Or having that character not be involved at all (Because you know, THAT plot threatens your ship.)

Oh riiight, the millions of different kinds of 'mate' theories. How ONLY Elucien's bond is the wrong one, but everyone else's? They're right! Even though, Lucien shares the SAME mating qualities that Rhysand and Cassian share. The longing stares, (Azriel had that for Mor too before Moriel got retconned. Don't worry Az, there's a fiery red haired beauty waiting for you!), the concern, the mate desire and the chant of "you are mine and I am yours." Sounds like Lucien's bond fits right alongside the others doesn't it?

The plots they claim would literally take Lucien's HEA away, despite SJM's OWN WORDS that there was 'someone special' for him, then making him mates with ELAIN. Then going on to say that there's a great deal of Tension, growth and HEALING for them( TOGETHER). Oh, look! That sounds like PLOT doesn't it? A plot of healing tension and growth! Something that SJM is known for in her books. Something Feyre, and Nesta got. Interesting.

Lucien is carrying the story in the Background. He has his hands dipped in Koschei, Vassa and Jurien, Beron and Eris, Spring court, Day court (finding out his true heritage), Emissary to Night court and Ally (As Rhys clearly explains).

Hmmmm. It sounds to me like Lucien has a TON of plot surrounding him. Elain being a seer, being said that Spring court was built for her. Her scent is the "Promise of Spring." (Who is currently stationed in spring court? Oh, Lucien, her mate! Look at that, it's already set up! =D) Even Rhysand states that we haven't seen all there is to Elain, and yet SJM is prepping her to go to spring.

Tell me, how does E/riel fit into spring? Do we need yet another contradicting 'plot/theory' to make it work?

The way Az's shadows don't run from Gwyn, they dance with her. They don't raise up alarm (which let's be real, if she was evil, his shadows would ABSOLUTELY tell Azriel to be cautious. Instead, they sit calmly at his shoulders. They're playful and sing.) Azriel not having to hide his scars, not having to think negative, degrating thoughts about himself while he's with Gwyn. The spark in his chest he got at the thought of her teal eyes lighting up. A thing of secret lovely beauty (Not a thing of deciept and magic). And no, he never got a spark in his chest for Elain.

The tie to Valkyrie and Illyrians, there's banter and laughter between them. Nesta being Gwyn's chosen sister, Cassian being Az's chosen brother. Think of the cute double dates they'd have!

If E/riel needs to make people who SJM have literally set up to have epic stories 'villains' or have them die, or not even exist for the ship to work, if their HEA includes ruining entire plots and stories, butchering characters, then it isn't very good now is it?

Meanwhile, Elucien and Gwynriel are set up to have intrigue, healing and growth for BOTH of the couples. I dunno, you can call the bad character breaking theories 'plots' if you want. If that helps you believe in your ship, sure? I rest easy knowing SJM isn't out here trying to rewrite her WHOLE entire story and throw out everything she wrote in the garbage, just to make ONE ship happen when she said there were clearly 2.

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #anti e/riel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel

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homestuckreplay · 1 month

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Week 1 Retrospective: Who Is John Egbert?

It’s official - Homestuck is one week old today! And while a week is not a long run for a comic, it’s already got more pages than the author’s earlier work Bard Quest, so maybe it’s something worth recognizing. So I wanted to mark a week of Homestuck by doing a deep dive on what we’ve learned about our protagonist John Egbert so far. It’s some fact collection, some wild speculation, and some ongoing questions. It’s over 3000 words, so it’s under a readmore for anyone who’s interested.

If that doesn’t sound like a fun time to you (or even if it does), you can take the John Egbert Big 5 Personality Test to see how you score on John’s five key personality traits. It’s 14 multiple choice questions, so a much quicker read.

We’re introduced to John on page 4, where we’re given five key interests of his: bad movies, programming computers, paranormal lore, amateur magic, and gaming. I’ll take these one by one and use them as a framework for John’s character so far.

“You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES.”

John has eleven (11) movie posters on his walls. Of these, three star Matthew McConaughey and two star Nicolas Cage. More notably, six have a Rotten Tomatoes rating below 50%, and two of these are below 10%. I haven’t seen any of these movies, but as far as I can tell, here are the one sentence summaries [broad spoilers for all these movies].

Little Monsters: A boy befriends a monster and visits the monster world, where they try to convert him into a monster too.

Con Air: A paroled man disrupts a gang of prisoner’s escape from a prison transport plane.

Deep Impact: Earth tries to prepare for extinction after a comet is found on a collision course with Earth.

Ghostbusters II: After going out of business, the Ghostbusters reunite to combat a negative energy slime monster.

Mac and Me: A boy befriends a young alien who gets separated from his family and lost on Earth.

Contact: An Earth scientist successfully discovers alien life and travels to an alien world.

A Time to Kill: A father is acquitted in court for killing the perpetrators of racial hate crimes against his daughter.

Failure to Launch: A 35 year old man’s parents hire a woman to persuade him to finally move out of their home.

Face/Off: A terrorist and a FBI agent go through facial transplant surgery and temporarily swap identities.

Armageddon: A group of space workmen go on a mission to stop an asteroid from destroying Earth.

Ghost Dad: A man temporarily dies but is able to interact with his children in ghost form.

From this we can see that John really likes science fiction movies related to aliens, ghosts and monsters, as well as action comedy. We also know from page 21: ‘Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you’. A Time to Kill and Failure to Launch are the only ones that don’t fit his taste. The implication here is that John really loved Matthew McConaughey in Contact and so watched his other movies even though they were things he wouldn’t usually watch.

I’m curious if these movies are intended as clues to John’s character, the future of the comic, or both. In terms of his character, they make me see him as someone who’s imaginative and goofy, young and carefree, not concerned with other people’s opinions, more interested in watching movies for their surface meanings and exciting stories, maybe wants to escape to a different world, might be a little bit gay.

In terms of the future of the comic, it could be that we’re going to see literal aliens or monsters - they could even be already here, keeping John ‘homestuck’. Slime monsters are particularly highlighted, with Slimer from Ghostbusters appearing on John’s shirt and computer background, and his chumhandle, ectoBiologist, relating to slime. Slime invasion honestly feels too obvious, and anyway, several of John’s movies are about befriending a more benign supernatural force - could John’s Pesterchum friends be something other than human? Or maybe it’s a more metaphorical meaning, referring to John having a very different life to his friends?

Two of these movies feature Earth extinctions by giant space rocks, but there’s absolutely no indication of this being a real world threat John is dealing with. Again, it could refer more generally to a sudden, life changing event that’s about to happen to disrupt John’s current state, something that would fit thematically with this being John’s 13th birthday, a milestone age.

There’s also a theme of crime and the legal system in several movies, including Con Air, the one that’s been most highlighted. The most obvious interpretation of John’s dad right now is that he’s a clown or performer, but there’s an outside chance he could be in law enforcement, or a criminal. It’s even possible that he’s currently in hiding or some kind of safe house. This would explain John being ‘homestuck’ and sick of spending time with his dad.

Speaking of John’s dad, I’m concerned for him based on the Ghost Dad summary - the comic keeps teasing his presence, but we haven’t actually seen him yet. Could he be a ghost? Or become one at some point? Alternatively, we know John has an already dead relative - could his nanna be a ghost? Did John dropping her ashes release her ghost? Family is a really common theme in movies, so I don’t know if a large number of these movies being about family (especially fathers) is relevant, but I’m noting it all the same.

“You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT.”

John claims he ‘likes to program’, but it actually seems to make him angry. We first learn ‘[y]ou were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept [of the stack modus] puzzling and mildly irritating.’ We then see three files on John’s desktop, two in ^CAKE - ‘pff.^CAKE’ and ‘FUCK FUCK FUCK.^CAKE’ and one in ~ATH - ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.~ATH’. These tell a clear narrative of John trying to work on his programming and getting increasingly more frustrated with his attempts, until inevitably giving up. Both of the programming languages are puns, too. ^ is often called a carat (carrot cake) while ~ is a tilde (til death).

I know this is wild speculation, but… John started off coding in a harmless programming language, was already struggling, then for some reason switched over to the most ominous possible sounding language, screwed it up even worse, and now… he’s constantly haunted by the ghost of failed programming attempts in the form of his sylladex, which he appears to be new to using (he had no prior understanding of it on page 7 - although this could be handwaved due to video game tutorial logic), and which operates similarly to a computer program and seems to cause John endless frustration. He’ll have to figure out how to exploit the inventory system in ways that help him, which involves actually figuring out some stuff about coding, in order to partake in some real life ghostbusting, or monster hunting, or dealing with whatever threat he’ll have to deal with by using inventory hacks.

“You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE,” (...)

By far the interest of John’s that we’ve seen the least of so far, John’s love of the paranormal is mostly inferred through his movie preferences, and we don’t see any direct evidence of an interest in lore. However, I can’t stop fixating on John’s chumhandle: ectoBiologist. The comic’s first act was to draw attention to giving John a name, and for many 2009 kids, the names they go by online are more meaningful and representative of them than their real world names.

‘ecto-’ means ‘outer, outside, external’ according to dictionary.com, and it’s actually a common prefix in a variety of fields of biology, but there’s no such thing as ‘ectobiology’ as a field, or an ‘ectobiologist’ - neither term has any search results prior to Homestuck. I think it’s way more likely that this refers to ectoplasm, a term from both cell biology and spiritualism that was popularized by Ghostbusters to mean any substance secreted by a ghost, in practice often manifesting as green slime. Slimer, who we can guess is John’s favorite, is a benign ghost made of pure ectoplasm. I love the idea that John loves this dumb ghost so much that he’s memorized all the lore about them in their appearances throughout the franchise, and devised this username based on being an expert on these ghosts right down to their biology (or at least thinking he is).

The only catch is, ‘fondness for paranormal lore’ is very passive and doesn’t even imply much knowledge, much less action, while ‘biologist’ implies that John has been doing actual experiments. The idea of John trying to create a real life Slimer the same way other kids make slime in their kitchens is really entertaining, if an off the wall theory. Does ‘homestuck’ just mean John is grounded for an unethical science project?

(...) “and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN.”

The magic chest is one of the biggest, most eye catching and most colorful objects in John’s room. We see its contents on page 8, which lean more into joke store items than things a magician might use, except for the trick handcuffs and perhaps the collapsible sword. The narration on this page states that John is neither a skilled magician nor a cunning prankster. I’m nitpicking definitions here, but everything John has done so far has been way more about pranks than about magic.

John’s uses of the magic chest to date are…

various putting things into his inventory and removing them (funny, but unintentionally)

combining fake arms with cake (p.36) out of necessity, which ‘makes the cake at least 300% more hilarious’

merging hat with beagle puss to create a clever disguise (p.45) and wearing it for 25+ pages, which he acknowledges is a ‘shitty disguise’

attaching fake arms to harlequin doll (p.65), which makes it ‘AT LEAST a million percent funnier’

All of which are definitely not magic tricks, and honestly not even pranks. Arguably John’s best and most successful prank so far has been when he pretended not to have arms for the first six pages, before revealing his arms after the interface had gone to the trouble of moving the cake off his magic chest to get him some arms.

John keeps thinking about reading Colonel Sassacre’s Guide to Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery, but always finding some excuse not to. He can��t read it until he captchalogues it, but once he does that, it gets buried in his inventory. He assumes that the book can tell him the exact percentage increase of hilarity a prank leads to, but it’s too big for him to actually look anything up.

An outside theory for this that I don’t think is likely simply because it’s so much darker than the comic has been so far, is that John loves this book, but since the incident where his nanna was killed by a copy (perhaps even this copy?) he hasn’t been able to bring himself to read it. A far more likely theory is that while John is an aspiring amateur magician, it’s more of a big idea, and he hasn’t actually done any magic yet. This also tracks with his weaksauce pranks above. And if that’s true, then it says a lot about John that he defines himself by a hobby he aspires to but doesn’t actually practice - he’s someone with big dreams and less motivation, just like his big dream of going to collect the mail from his father despite the lack of motivation that’s kept him messing around for 70 pages.

“You also like to play GAMES sometimes.”

Potentially most important of all is Gamer John. We get a list of games John likes to play from inspecting his CD tower the same way we get a list of movies from looking at his posters.

Bard Quest

The Caper Havers

Problem Sleuth

And It Don’t Stop

What Pumpkin?

Ghostbusters II MMORPG

Little Monsters (for Nintendo)

Harry Anderson: Call My Bluff!

The first five games all reference previous work by the author of Homestuck, and as such probably don’t need in depth analysis. However, the fact that within the world of Homestuck, these are all games (instead of comics) is one of several suggestions that we should think of Homestuck as a game, something that needs further analysis.

The next two games are video game adaptations of movies we know John likes, and the last is a branded video game from Harry Anderson, whose book we’ve already seen in John’s magic chest. Notably, none of these are real video games in our world either. It says a lot that John plays game versions of things he already likes (he’s put ‘countless manhours’ into this assortment of quality titles).

However, it’s undeniable that the most important game in John’s life right now is Sburb. The poster is behind his head in the first panel, placed centrally with one of the only two splashes of color in the panel. The beta release is the only thing marked on his calendar for April besides his birthday, and the Sburb logo is even the picture printed on the calendar - perhaps it’s a calendar themed around new game releases? There’s clear delight on John’s face when he thinks about getting the beta, and his quest to fetch it from the recently delivered mail is the closest thing to a story this comic has so far.

Unfortunately, we know almost nothing about Sburb, so we don’t know what it says about John that he wants to play it. It’s publicized as the Game of the Year, and according to GameBro, the game may be about houses and the player may not get to thrash anything, although these details are provided by someone who hasn’t played the game so I’m not taking them as expert opinion. It might be multiplayer - TT has been pestering TG all day about playing it with her. Maybe John just wants to share a game with his friends.

Speaking of GameBro, John can’t stand the magazine, although he for some reason has a copy on his desk. He describes the publication as ‘a joke’ to TG, and he makes the effort to take it downstairs to the fire and burn it, presumably releasing asbestos fibers into the house and causing serious lung damage to himself and his father. Does he read this because it’s the only games magazine that exists? Or did he like it just fine until now, when it trashed the game he’s excited about, and now he’s furious with it? Either way, it tracks with John’s overall fondness for critically panned media that he would be angry about contrarian critics.

–

All of this has left me with a few questions about John as our main character. These are the things that I’m keeping an eye on and trying to answer as the story continues.

What is John good at?

We hear so much about what John is bad at. He’s explicitly stated to be bad at programming, pranks, and magic. He’s bad at using his sylladex. He’s clumsy and knocked over his nanna’s ashes. He’s got bad taste in media. He’s funny but only when he doesn’t try to be, and even then he’s sometimes the butt of the joke, where the joke is how not funny John’s joke is. He was tempted to squawk like an imbecile and shit on his desk. He has like six different prankster props and he doesn’t even use all of them. I’m saying all this with love and kindness because he also just seems like such a sweet kid, but so far he doesn’t have any defined strengths or skills.

Is he going to turn out to be really good at gaming and kick ass at Sburb? Are we going to get a curveball where it turns out John is an amazing baker, and he hates the cakes in his room and the smell of Betty Crocker because he can do so much better than that packet mix? Or is he starting off from this low point so he can develop skills as time goes on?

What is John’s relationship with his dad really like?

John doesn’t want his dad to monopolize his time and feels trapped in his room, despite his dad baking cakes and leaving notes on gifts telling John he’s proud of him. John’s dad gets his son one great present that John’s really appreciative of, and one terrible present that John immediately hates. All of this feels very reasonable and normal for a teen feeling misunderstood by a parent who’s trying their best.

And then there’s the clowns.

John can excuse magical frivolity and practical japery, but he draws the line at harlequins. He’s an aspiring magician, but his dad’s figurines are ‘fucking garbage’ and his dad ‘sure can be a real cornball’. John seems like somebody who gets angry at ultimately unimportant things, like bad reviews of games, too many cakes, and harlequin figurines, but because of the subject matter it reads like an intense rivalry between two highly specific subcultures that outsiders would group together. John is really making a huge deal of needing to disguise himself and mentally prepare himself to go down and face his dad, and I want to know if there’s any genuine reason behind John’s fear, or if it’s solely the overdramatics I’m starting to think are typical of him.

Is John ‘Homestuck’?

‘Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.’ (p.30)

John clearly feels like he’s stuck at home, but is this the extent of the title’s meaning? His dad has recently returned from getting groceries, so leaving the house is in theory possible. Reasons why John might be homestuck include: he’s not allowed to leave the house (for example, he’s grounded, or his dad is very controlling), he can leave the house but there’s nowhere to go (he lives near major roads, bodies of water, farms, or other obstacles, and there’s no public transport to get anywhere), or he can leave the house but it’s not safe to do so (there’s some sort of external threat, either supernatural like a monster or alien invasion, or mundane like a criminal or bomb threat). Seeing out of John’s window and into his front yard does not provide any clues; it looks like an extremely average front yard with a tree, swing and mailbox, and we know the mail was recently delivered, so there can’t be anything too world-ending happening in the neighborhood. Right now John’s goal (the Sburb Beta disc) is inside the house, so this might not get answered right away - in fact, my running theory is that the game itself might hold the answers, as its logo is a house.

What’s the differentiation between John and the narrator?

My biggest question of all, and one that probably deserves its own essay. I’m fascinated by the lines ‘In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle.’ (p.27) and ‘In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for.’ (p.50). These lines carry so much opinion, but because the narrator is constantly addressing John with the second person ‘you’, I don’t think these are John’s opinions. The narrator does have a window into John’s thoughts, so the line between them can be blurred, but there's clearly a distinction somewhere, because there have been pushbacks and disagreements between the two of them.

One theory is that John’s dad is the narrator - John’s at home a lot for whatever reason, and so the constant and overbearing presence of his dad means that he can’t get him out of his head even when he’s alone, the commands at the top of each page reflecting John’s dad’s level of control over his son’s life. But I think this question is open ended enough that I’m not willing to commit to one theory yet. After all, we ‘examine 3rd and 4th walls of [John’s] room’ which is a directly meta allusion to the comic’s audience that only really makes sense if the narrator isn’t a character in the comic itself.

–

I think John Egbert has been really well characterized so far. He feels like a real kid, one who keeps getting off track and forgetting what he should be doing, but one who it’s enough fun to get to know that I don’t really notice. While the main character in media often doesn’t end up being the most interesting character, I do want to keep an eye on John because I think he has a lot going on to analyze. Above the style and the world and the mechanics, John as a character is the aspect of the comic I’m most interested in right now.

#homestuck #john egbert #analysis

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kekisu · 3 months

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a very popular headcanon people have (i Think its popular. at least a lot of my twitter mutuals agreed with me a while back) is that joker comes from inaba, and if youve played p4 you know that theres literally nothing to do there

so a big headcanon that i used to be obsessed with is that he would spend a lot of his days skateboarding or biking around listening to music and exploring old dirt roads.. and he ended up getting a special interest in bugs and reptiles because hed come across so many during his little solo adventures. hes also very well versed in fishing its not a fixation or anything but just something hes pretty good at

this is why i tend to draw joker like some sort of skater boy. i think hes always stood out a lot in this small town even before the false assault charge, like he wasnt disliked or bullied but he just didnt really fit in. and this didnt bother him. i think he only realized how boring his life was when he became a phantom thief and got all these new friends in this new big city that understood him despite the circumstances that led him here. like man i really used to live like that and see nothing wrong with it? i didnt yearn for more?

it makes it even more painful when he has to leave and they naturally drift apart. because they all have dreams and ambitions, and the best years of their lives are waiting for them around the corner. but joker is back in this small town where theres nothing to do but hang out in some food court or poke around in the woods. i imagine this newfound loneliness is really hard on him, not to mention the guilt for feeling like hes somehow to blame for. well, whatever happened with goro

to me personally i think goro lived. i think he mustered up the perseverance to bite and claw his way out of shidos palace after seeing that even someone like him has a chance at being loved, he just didnt really remember this in marukis reality because it was all a blur. so both goro and joker were completely clueless as to what his fate would be if they went back to their true reality, which is what was so scary. the uncertainty. he could very well be dead but how could they know for sure? i just dont like the thought of him dying before he could truly live, even though i understand the tragedy of it can be poetic, i just cant stand for him going out like that because i relate a lot to his struggles. and i think it would go against the overall positive message of p5r. sure not everybody gets to have a second chance or a happy ending, but. man. anyways

joker fully believes goro is dead though. he wouldnt be crazy to assume this considering how they parted ways in shidos palace. but it eats away at him and maybe he really does go crazy. maybe his life feels like its stuck in time and while his old friends are out chasing their dreams, hes stuck. broken and shattered over feeling like he couldve done something to save him, knowing jokers savior/martyr complex

im running out of steam and i didnt mean to ramble on about my post-p5r headcanons but, to wrap it up: goro is in rehab somewhere and has a service dog to help with his dissociation and mood swings. and a couple other stuff. he feels like if he walks back into jokers life itll mess something up like joker will just break down or something. so he keeps his distance until they cross paths again. im just very obsessed with the idea of goro getting his life together vs joker wanting so badly to chase that high of phantom thievery again but failing and being actually so depressed

man morgana must be exhausted

#persona 5 #idk might as well tag it? DFJHNJDMKSNDJ #I WANT PEOPLE TO SEE MY RAMBLE.#pleaseeeee tell me what you think i love to think about post p5r shuake <- literally running a zine about it

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fanfic-obsessed · 4 months

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Mediation...?

This one I came up with as I walked to work, and so we will all explore it. It is a Post Empire AU. I know, I do not usually go for post-empire, but the horror and humor of this idea spoke to me.

Let’s take a look, yeah?

The AU part is that both Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker survived through the end of the Empire. So we don’t have to deal with too many changes too early, Obi Wan was severely injured and in Bacta for the entire time of the OT (or he got injured again just before the events of each movie, whichever works better).

After Vader comes back to the light, he is fitted with prosthetics that actually fit (including being the correct height). He is still required to wear a mask ,but it is more like Plo Koons than Vader (covering his mouth and nose but not his entire face). The burns he got from Mufastar meant that he had no hair, and the suit he wore for those years meant that he was unnaturally pale. As a consequence he no longer looks like Vader (not just because he lost 5 inches in height with the correct legs).

Most of the galaxy does not know that Vader and Anakin Skywalker are the same person. Anakin was also largely forgotten, and the few who did remember him (without knowing the Vader connection) would quietly muse about how much Vader seemed to hate Anakin Skywalker, the Hero without Fear (there is no doubt in my head that the person Vader hated the most was Anakin).

The Rebels do know that Anakin and Vader are the same person. Even as they are working to build the New Republic, no one is quite sure what, if anything, Anakin Skywalker should be charged with (War crimes. So many war crimes, they would need to invent new war crimes specifically for Vader-Though to be fair he is not the only living member of the Empire’s ruling body for this to be true). If he does need to be charged, and they could figure out what with, does his fall to the dark side constitute a mitigating factor (some kind of diminished capacity) or an enhancement (like a hate crime)? Where does killing the Emperor fit into any sentence he would have to serve? Is there even a way to enforce any sentence that a court could impose?

All of these questions and more would have to be answered before any trials could commence (including: how far does “following orders” mitigate actions, and how far up the chain of command can that excuse be used?). In the meanwhile Anakin hangs awkwardly around with his son when he is able.

Luke wants, deeply, to help his father become comfortable around people again. He also does not quite…understand is probably the best term…understand the depth of the horrors that Vader/Anakin created in his 20 years in the suit. In his mind he knows, and has been told, most of what Vader has done, but to a certain extent he separated Anakin and Vader in his mind so there is a bit of disconnect (Some understandable cognitive dissonance).

He is at least aware enough that he is not looking to find Anakin friends among the rebels, who would naturally think of Vader first (and thus it would be uncomfortable for all involved). He understands that asking someone like Leia to try and befriend the being that tortured her then blew up her planet is not a good idea.

But there is one person he knows thinks of Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader as two different people. Obi Wan Kenobi. Who is decidedly avoiding Anakin (in this Anakin can not blame him, the return to the light means that he does actually need to face everything he has done), but is also low key avoiding most people. Mostly Obi Wan is staying around the clones that still live (both to help those clones with their own guilt over their actions while chipped, the fact that their aging has finally been brought to human normal, and frankly because he likes them more than most people these days-I imagine at least Cody-CodyWan for the win-, Rex, Gregor, Appo, and Wolffe but there are a good crowd), and the few Force users that survived the Purge. Also spending time with Leia.

Now a few things need to be made abundantly clear at this point. Luke does not know of the horrors Anakin perpetrated, as opposed to Vader (For all that Palpatine labeled him Vader before the march on the temple, I always headcanon that his last act as purely Anakin was the slaughter of the children in the council chamber but even then he did not truly become Vader until after he finds out that Padme died), not really. Few enough who live remember the march on the temple, what it meant that the temple (the home of the Jedi) was pillaged and burned. Fewer still ever knew that it was Anakin that led the march and slaughtered the children.

Oddly enough, Anakin Skywalker is the only person in the galaxy who knows the true horrific extent of his own crimes.

So Luke, with all the best of intentions, notices that Obi Wan is avoiding Anakin, and decides he will help his father and his teacher/mentor/uncle/that weird dude that lived in the desert makeup. Luke is attributing the awkwardness to Anakin’s 20 years as Vader (which, if we are being completely honest, is the least of the issues between Anakin and Obi Wan).

Luke decides he is going to hold something like a mediation to bridge those 20 years. Anakin is, at this point, incapable of denying Luke anything and agrees (in spite of the fact that even he can tell this will go poorly). Obi Wan does not actually agree as Luke does not tell him what they are meeting for, but once he arrives is semi blackmailed by Luke (leveraging the whole ‘you told me my father was dead thing/you lied to me my whole life’) which really only works because Obi Wan is also fairly vulnerable to young Skywalker children who remind him of the people who Obi Wan has lost (Satine would have done something similar, Obi Wan think nostalgically). Thinking that an audience would help create a more neutral location, Luke makes sure that Obi Wan is accompanied by a few of the clones (Appo in particular), and that Leia, Han, and Mon Mothma (as one of the few people who remember Padme and Anakin) are in the room. There are others.

Now Luke has all the best intentions with this, but he is, at best, missing some very critical information. At worst he is taking after one of his father’s worst traits (so sure he can fix a relationship that is not his, and is probably better left broken).

Both Anakin and Obi Wan silently agree to humor the sunshine boy. At first they try to keep it to lighter disagreements and misunderstandings (who saved who and who made the situation worse kind of thing). Anakin brings up at one point being unhappy that Obi Wan hid his children from him for almost 20 years, Obi Wan corrects that he hid them for almost 10 years from Vader, since he believed Anakin actually dead for the first 10, during which Vader maintained that Anakin was dead. Anakin withdraws his objection.

Then Anakin brings up the limb removal on Mustafar (which causes most of the room to go still, no one but the clones-whom Obi Wan had told- knew about the Mustafar fight). Obi Wan shoots back with an slightly irate rejoinder that it was a really measured response considering that Anakin had just: led a group of brainwashed soldiers into their home and slaughtered as many men, women, and children that he could; choked his very pregnant wife; ignored repeated attempts Obi Wan made to end the fight without further violence.

It was at this point that Appo started to have a panic attack (being one of the few surviving Clones who was actually there in the temple). Obi Wan looked over at Luke, apologized and said this was not a good idea. Then left with the clones, all trying to calm Appo back down.

The entire room is just…dead silence. Like Luke everyone, barring Anakin who did know this was going to go so badly, had sort of forgotten that Obi Wan was more than the weird desert guy who hung around with the clones, and sometimes Leia. Luke is sitting there, really pale (He did have good intentions).

Like the people who realized the Jedi suffered a genocide when the Empire came into power had mostly died, the few that had survived all these years had buried that knowledge under the subsequent horrors of the Empire (They also largely forgot, or didn’t understand the horror of the chips both in the context of Order 66 and following orders in the Empire). It was not done out of maliciousness, or even ignorance, because the Jedi and the Clones (in that they lost everything of themselves and their culture in a moment) may have been the first genocide of the Empire but it was not the last.

I’m not sure where it would go from there, other than Anakin is charged with so many war crimes and accepts whatever punishment is determined.

#obi wan kenobi #star wars au #anakin skywalker #codywan #luke skywalker #leia organa #star wars #star wars original trilogy

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lalachat · 3 months

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"And there you were..."

Author's note: Hi loves! I am going to apologize for this one because it is basically just filler because the next chapter is going to be a good one(in my personal opinion). I have been in a chaotic-evil kind of mood recently and I got something good cooked up! However, I am sad to announce that I will probably end this story soon, maybe 2-3 more chapters. Do not fret though! I fully plan on writing some one shots, maybe another series 👀 That meaning, I got some good ideas for my future projects ehehehe! ANYWHO, I hid a harry potter reference in here. I wonder if y'all can find it! Tbh I hide a lot of my favorite movie quotes in my chapters. So far no one has picked up on any😭 anywho, enjoy this one before shit literally hits the ceiling.

Summary: You and Lucien wake up after your eventful night to have an early morning snack before your breakfast with the rest of the night court. However, can you and Lucien hide your growing feelings for one another? And most importantly, does anyone know what you two did last night?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and LOTS of filler/banter

Word Count: ≈ 4,053

Chapter 9: Pretty Pink Bows

After a much-needed bath, you and Lucien decided that it would be best to get some rest. You both changed into your pajamas and crawled into your bed. Lucien was too tired to go back to his apartment, and with Elain’s uproar, he felt it was best to stay. You did not complain. Sleeping next to Lucien was always peaceful, like your soul knows his entirely. These were always your best nights of sleep with him next to you.

You awoke to the first appearance of light on the horizon shimmering through your window. Lucien was sprawled out next to you comfortably, hair slightly tangled. His chest falling rhythmically with every breath. Poor guy was probably spent from the energy he was channeling into you last night. You smile at the sight of him.

Without waking up the slumbering male, you slipped out of your bed and out your room. You walked on the balls of your feet through the noiseless halls, trying not to wake anyone else who is still asleep. You were headed to the kitchen to grab y'all some tea and snacks. After last night, your body was craving for something to fill your aching stomach. You're sure Lucien felt the same.

You finally reached the kitchen, the beautiful colors of dawn now starting to come to light. You grabbed a pot and filled it with water, knowing a teapot would be too loud. You placed it on the stove to heat up as you set aside two teacups. While you were waiting for the water to boil, you mindlessly went to the pantry to search for your favorite tea. You grabbed two teabags and put them into the cups. The water started to bubble; you decided you still had some time to scrounge for snacks. You cut up some fruit, cheese, and meat and placed them onto a plate. You smiled as you made a little smiley face out of the arranged foods. You walked back over to the water to see that it was boiling. You carefully poured it into each cup and set it aside to cool as you cleaned. Shortly after, you grabbed everything you prepared and headed back to your room.

“Good morning sleepy head,” you sang to the sleeping figure wrapped up in your sheets. Lucien mumbled something you couldn’t comprehend as he still lay there asleep. You rolled your eyes, “Jackass.”

A smile crept up onto your face as you sat your breakfast aside, “This is your last warning, Lu.” A moment of silence passes, and you shook your head, “So be it!”

You jump onto your bed like a child on solstice, the sudden motion startling Lucien. He jolted awake as you kept jumping up and down in a fit of giggles at his reaction, “Wakey wakey Lucy!”

“You are a jackass,” he mumbled as he shook his head and threw himself back onto his pillow. You laughed at his choice of vocabulary because you threw that same word at him earlier.

“Am I still a jackass if I said that I got up early to get us some tea with a complimentary charcuterie plate?”

“What a big word for how early it is,” he smiled at you as he ran his hand through his hair, fingers getting stuck in some tangles. He groans in frustration, you laughed.

“Your hair looks like a bush on fire,” you chuckle as you grabbed your hairbrush and gestured to his hair, “May I?” All Lucien could do was nod, still not completely awake yet. He leaned up allowing you to slot yourself behind him, his muscled back pressed against your chest.

“You’re not tender headed, are you?” You slowly started to brush the ends of his hair first, Lucien hummed at the feeling.

“Obviously not when you were the one tugging at it last night.” You could feel the smirk on his face without even having to look, you pulled the brush a little harder through a knot at the comment.

“Ouch!” He turned around to look at you over his shoulder. You gave him an innocent smile.

“Oops- sorry, the brush slipped,” you halfheartedly apologized as you continued brushing his hair. “You should let me braid it!”

Lucien laughed, “And what’s next? A huge pink bow?”

“Obviously-” you said as you brushed out the last section you were working on and moved on to start braiding his hair.

“Good gods you're going to get me made fun of,” he sighed as his body relaxed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

“Anyone who makes fun of you is just jealous of how good you’ll look,” your voice vibrating through Lucien’s back. You worked quietly as you braided his hair into Dutch braids and pinned the ends in a low bun, Lucien just sat there marveling your presence and how close you two were now. Your breath hitting his neck sent goosebumps across his entire body. His body was betraying him from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Turn around please,” you asked him. He happily obliged as you both shuffled around to a comfortable spot facing one another. You scooted closer to him to pull out some hairs to frame his gorgeous face. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip, scared if you pulled too much it will mess the braid up.

Lucien just watched you. His eyes roamed your face while you were distracted with his hair. Having you this close he was able to study every detail. You were astonishingly beautiful. Your captivating eyes that sparked whenever you smiled, your nose that was sprinkled in tiny sunspots, your beautiful rosy cheeks, and gods, your kissable lips that he could never get enough of. He couldn’t look away, not with the way you bit your bottom lip. All he could think about was what it would be like to kiss you again…

“All done,” you smiled as you looked at your work.

Lucien’s eyes glanced up to meet yours, “Thank you.”

You looked back at him, just now noticing how close your faces were. Your cheeks flushed as you let out a small breath, “you’re welcome.”

You did not dare move, not with the way Lucien eyes kept dipping down to your lips. There is something so intimate about the way he was looking at you, and you thought to yourself every kiss you two shared was heated and an act of lust. You and Lucien had never shared a legitimate kiss before. That thought alone sent nerves through your body. Could he actually have feelings for you? Because the way he is looking at you right now makes you feel like you're not just a hookup anymore, that you're something much more.

“Lucien-” you glanced at his lips as you sucked in a breath. Your nose was now brushing against his. One of you had leaned in. You didn’t know if it was you, him, or both but at this moment neither of you cared. You didn't care as his breath kissed your cheeks with warmth causing more of a blush. You two should not be doing this! Friends don’t kiss. This is so wrong, but gods did nothing ever feel so right. Just as your lips brushed against his, it was like Lucien snapped out of a trance at the touch. WHAT IN THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!

He nervously coughed, “I’m hungry, what about you?” He got off the bed and grabbed the tray you prepared; the tea was now room temperature.

“Oh yeah! I'm starving,” you shook your head trying to clear your mind of the moment he abruptly put an end to. Shit- are you disappointed? This cannot be happening, he’s just a friend! You’re mated to Azriel for gods sake!

“Tea got cold, but everything looks lovely y/n,” he politely thanked you as he grabbed each teacup to rewarm them. “The smiley face is a nice touch.”

“You’re welcome, I thought it was cute! Now, bon appétit,” you smiled. You both were hungrier than you thought. You both devoured the platter you had prepared in minutes as you sipped on tea. The once cute smiley face now nothing but crumbs.

“Such a shame we destroyed the smile though,” he laughed as he downed the rest of his tea.

“At least we made a happy plate right?” you said as you finished your own cup.

“Always the cleaver one in the mornings,” he smiled at you as he gathered his clothes off the floor to get dressed. You figured you would do the same as you pulled out a long skirt and a plain shirt from your dresser. You took a quick look in the mirror and ran your brush through your hair a couple of times before putting it up in a messy bun.

“Ready?” You glanced at him as he was looking at himself in the mirror.

“Hell yeah I am, I’m ready to show off this new dew! This looks really good y/n” he exclaimed as he kissed you atop the head.

“Can I please, please, please add a bow?” you stuck out your lip.

“Absolutely not,” he said as he opened the door for you.

“Are you sure? It would make it look even better,” you wiggled your brow at him as you walked past him through the door.

“Yes, I am sure. If Feyre caught me with that, she would never let me live it down.”

“That’s actually a fair statement,” you laughed as he shut your door.

Just as he turned around Lucien’s gaze went to your wrists, his mouth turning upwards into a wicked smile, “y/n?”

“What?” You looked at him confused as he tilted his head in emphasis to look where he was. You followed his gaze, and your eyes were met with faint red rings around both of your wrists. Tendrils of flame still remnant. “Oh. My. Mother. Above-” was all you could say as you traced your wrists gently. They were beautiful in a way you could not describe...

“Is it obvious?” You looked at him worriedly as you stuck them out for him to see. Pain struck his features like you were ashamed of what you two had done. However, you were only scared of Elain and Azriel noticing them.

“When you do that, yes,” he chuckled. “Here, I can glamour it for you,’ he grabbed your wrists, ‘Such a shame to get rid of my beautiful work.” His grip on your wrists made you blush as you slowly watched the marking go away.

“Thank you,” you breathed closely analyzing your wrists to make sure all proof of last night was officially gone. Lucien still had a pained look on his face but hiding it with wit.

“You should really get those tattooed, they look too good on you to hide it,” he mused as he started to walk to the lingering voices echoing through the halls.

“Maybe you should do that to me more often then,” you clapped back with a wink as you followed.

He shot you a playful smile as he grabbed your wrist gently, “You want more my little fireling?”

That’s a new nickname, you thought. The possessiveness of it shook your core. You tried to hide your liking for it, as you shot him a cheeky smile and walked into the room that your friends were gathered in. Everyone gathered around the room waiting for breakfast. The table set with plates, silverware, and glasses of water.

“Morningggggg,” Mor smirked, leaning against the wall with a cup of tea in her hands. Her eyes gleaming with a knowing look as she dramatically sipped her tea with a wink sent your way.

You look at her confused, “Good morning to you too Mor.”

“Ah good, y/n! We are about to eat breakfast, still waiting for a couple others to join us.” Feyre smiled at you. Her gaze met Lucien’s as he walked into the room shortly after. “Oh, good to see you’re up Lucien, come sit!”

Everyone soon began to make their way to their seats. Mor nudged her elbow in your hip as she whispered, “You are going to tell me everything!”

You hissed, “Yes, but can’t a girl eat first!”

You looked around the room to find Rhysand and Feyre seating themselves at the head of the table. Cassian pulling out the chair next to Rhysand as Nesta chose the one beside her mate. Mor sat beside Feyre, shooting a look to sit next to her so you two could gossip. You rolled your eyes as you sat down with her. Lucien felt awkward being the last one standing, not really having a specific spot at the table. It was either sit next to Nesta, his body trembled at that thought, or sit next to you. He shot you a smile as he gracefully pulled out the chair next to you.

“Where’s Amren?” you asked.

“Went home already, last night was more than enough socializing for her,” Rhysand said with an understanding.

“Gotcha,” you nodded as you sipped some water.

“So, how did everyone sleep?” Mor asked with a smile, obviously up to something, as everyone murmured “good.”

With you occupied with your water and not answering previously, Mor directly asked you this time.

“You sleep okay y/n?” She wiggled her brow slightly as you choked on your water from remembering what kept you up in the early morning hours. Everyone’s eyes looked at you with worry from your choking, but you gave them a thumbs up and a scratchy, “I'm okay!”

“Sorry, the water went down wrong. I slept okay,” you said through small coughs, your face flushed from your thoughts and from coughing. Lucien pats your back reassuringly.

“And what about you Lucien?” Mor asked. You glared at her as he kept patting your back.

“Just fine Mor,” he deadpanned. Not revealing a single thing about either of your nights. Mor hummed, unsatisfied with your answers.

“Where the hell is Az?! I am fucking hungry,” Cassian muttered in frustration. Lucien’s hand stilled at the name. You looked around and noticed the shadowsinger was not here.

“Would you just be patient for once in your life,” Nesta quipped.

“I am sure he will be here soon Cass, along with Elain.” Rhysand said, amused at that neither of them are here yet. You and Lucien shared a mutual glance of, “Oh fuck.”

You mouthed to him, “Do you think they are together?” He gave you a curt nod. His breathing becoming long inhales and exhales as he tried to calm the storm raging within him at the thought of them together again. You could sense his battle and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“It will be okay,” you mouthed to him once again as the others were engrosed in a conversation about gods knows what. He pursed his lips into a thin line as he rubbed his temples.

“You okay Lucien?” Feyre asked. He looked up at her, and he could tell she knew what was wrong. She was the only other person besides you that knew him, truly knew him.

“Yes, sorry! My head just hurts from this new hairstyle. I'm not entirely used to it yet.” He smiled at her. She knew he lied to cover up what he was truly feeling from the others, so she went with it.

“I understand. I am sure all of us long haired people have experienced the feeling,” she grinned, “It looks good though!”

“Thank you,” you and Lucien said at the same time. You both glared at each other.

“What do you mean by ‘Thank you,’ I am the one who she complimented,” Lucien said.

“Yes, but I am the one who did it! You would not have gotten complimented if it weren’t for me,” you stuck your tongue out.

“You braided his hair?” Mor looked at you. Only then did you realize what you had just exposed. You had to divert! Lucien only looking at you playfully with what you were going to say about the situation now.

“Yes, I ran into Lucien earlier this morning when I snuck to the kitchen to make myself some tea. Neither of us could sleep with what’s going on, so we just stayed up together in the library until you all woke up,” you shrugged. Was that a good enough cover up? You prayed it was, as Lucien just nodded his head as he drank from his cup.

“Can you do that to my hair?” Cassian asked.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I like it, and it will keep it out my face while I eat,” he said.

“Why not ask me?” Nesta said.

“Because I know you will say no,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders.

“Fair,” Nesta replied as you got out your chair and rounded the table to the other side.

“I wish I had long hair,” Rhys pouted.

“No, you don't,” Feyre said as she patted his shoulder as you stood behind Cassian's chair and started braiding. Everyone began talking about their mornings, chattering back and forth. Every now and then Cassian would move too much, and you would have to push him back in the chair.

“Sit still Cass or you’ll mess it up!” You rolled your eyes at the restless male.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as you continued with his hair.

Mor began talking about having the group do something together to bond after all that’s happened. Everyone at the table agreed except for Rhysand. You looked at him as you finished braiding one side of Cassian's head. It looked like he was deep in thought. He wasn’t talking to Feyre because her and Mor were bouncing group ideas off each other. Cassian, Nesta, and Lucien listened to their conversation, so he wasn’t relaying anything to them either. What could he be thinking about, you wondered.

Suddenly, his gaze snapped to you. Those piercing violet eyes assessing you. You were just now braiding the other side of Cassian’s head.

“What? Does it look bad or something?” you asked.

Rhys shook his head, “No it looks fine, but I cannot help but sense something off about you y/n.” His eyes twinkled as they took a quick glance at your hands. You followed his gaze. He was looking at your hands! Did the glamour wear off?! You panicked, you looked at your wrists while braiding Cassian's hair and saw no swirls of flame. What the fuck is he on about then?

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you finished the braid you were working on and began to put them together into a high bun. Those always looked best on Cassian.

“Oh really? Y/n, you must forget I am a high lord. I can sense ALL magic,” he put major emphasizes on the word all. Just then it hit you. Rhysand is a high lord. Your high lord, and the most powerful one at that. He can sense all magic… even glamours.

You shot him a look as you tried to keep your hands focused on Cassian’s bun. All Rhysand did was smile at you as you felt the familiar caress of claws on your mental shield. “You have a glamour on, don’t you?” he spoke to you in your head.

“Get out my head you prying prick,” you thought outside your walls.

“What are you hiding y/n?” he purred. His claws once again cascading down your shields.

“Cassian do you have a hair tie?” you asked as he mindlessly handed you one, you were now securing his hair.

“I am serious Rhys, get out of my head,” you thought back, but he kept his presence in your head as he crossed his arms at the table. If you kept yourself occupied with Cassian’s hair and maybe he will go away.

“I am not going until you tell me why you are glamoured. What are you hiding y/n?” His voice felt foreign in your mind, but he was still respectful. The power and information he has on you right now was overwhelming. You could feel your shields slipping at it. You tried to re-ground yourself with the feeling of Cassian’s hair, but you ended up giving into Rhysand. He already knows everything. You could trust him. The people you were hiding from aren’t even here. You let your shield down to show him the image of your wrists. You could see his eyes lighten in surprise as his cheeks grew a shade darker.

“I told you not to pry,” you thought inside your mind.

“He can do that?” he thought back to you in shock.

“Yes,” you thought back.

You bit your lip slightly as you started to reminisce about it, completely forgetting your shields were still down. Rhysand seeing everything before you could stop it. You quickly finished securing Cassian’s hair before you clapped him on the shoulder with an “All done!”

“WOAH!” Rhysand shouted out loud at the images of you and Lucien flashing through your mind, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. You slammed your shields backup in an instant. Rhysand’s face now completely pink.

“What?” Cassin asked confused as Rhysand coughed.

Please come up with something good Rhys... you thought.

“Nothing! Your hair just looks really good like that brother,” Rhysand mused.

“Awe Rhysie Poo- am I so handsome with this hair that it made you blush?” Cassian got up to smother Rhys in a hug.

“Yes, it’d be even better with a bow!” Rhys laughed as he bopped Cassian’s newly braided bun.

“That’s what I think too, but Lucien said no!” You tried to remain calm and continue as normally as possible as you made your way back to your seat. Thank fuck for Rhysand coming up with a cleaver cover up story.

Lucien shrugged, “It would not go well with my outfit.” Everyone at the table laughed.

Rhysand couldn’t look at you or the male without blushing. He has seen too much, but gods it was true everyone undermined the autumn court male’s power in the bedroom.

“What’s got everyone in such a good mood?” Elain asked sweetly as she entered the room with Azriel at her side. Lucien imediently tensed at the sight of them together. You on the other hand were ready to strike at any given moment, scared she might attack you for sitting next to Lucien.

“Rhysand got all hot and bothered over my new hairstyle Y/n did for me,” Cassian boomed as Elain blushed uncomfortably at his words. Azriel laughed at his brothers, your heart skipping a beat at the sound. Damn thing always betraying you when he's around.

“Well I'll be dammed Rhys, you’re picking favorites now?” Azriel smirked as he pulled Elain’s chair out for her beside Nesta.

“Absolutely not! This-” his hands wave around Cassian’s hair, “just threw me off guard! I’m so used to his hair being all up in his face,” Rhysand said as he watched Azriel sit next to Elain.

“It is rather nice to see your face again Cass,” Feyre teased and he glared at her, “Now that everyone is here, let’s eat!”

At the snap of her fingers the entire table was filled with all sorts of breakfast foods. From fresh fruits to eggs and bacon, the table had it all.

“Thank fuck-” Cassian said as he started to pile food onto his plate, everyone following suit. Filling their plates with whatever they pleased.

“Good morning, Elain, how did you sleep?” Lucien asked her as he buttered a bagel, not really hungry after your snack earlier. Azriel smiled at the question, and your blood boiled. You knew that smirk all too well. Lucien had that same smirk when Mor asked about why you braided his hair. Something happened between them and you were dead set on finding out about it.

Elain’s sweet stature faltered for a moment before she recomposed herself and answered, “I slept good.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lucien said awkwardly not expecting the conversation to be that short.

“Good going dude,” you whispered to him.

“I’d like to see you try-” you kicked him under the table. “Ouch-”

“Shut your mouth before I do it for y-” he kicked you back, you glared at him as you rubbed your shin. “Ass-” before you could finish your name calling Mor interrupted you, Lucien only laughed.

“So, Feyre and I were discussing about having a group bonding day today. Everyone else agreed to it, what do you think Azriel?” Mor asked.

“Sounds fine,” he said blandly as he took a bite of eggs as Elain spoke beside him.

“I think that’s a great idea Mor!”

“Okay so it is settled! We will have a group bonding session today!” Mor said as she raised her glass of water and drank it.

"This outta be interesting," Rhysand said with a smile.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows @sourapplex @b0xerdancer-writes @fireworksacrosshorizons @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mis-lil-red @cleverzonkwombatsludge @emme-looou @bubybubsters @impossibelle @holywolfsstuff @acourtofbatboydreams @bloodicka @byyalady @kennedy-brooke @sassyslytherinshai @minnieoo @sh4nn @high-lady-of-books @fides25 @thisblogisaboutabook @breella @hardcoremarvelfan @thesnugglingduck @annaaaaa88

#lucien x reader #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre acotar #mor acotar #elain archeron

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15-lizards · 9 months

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GENDER SWAP RENLY AND STANNIS OUTFITS PLEASSSS. And maybe Robert too

SISTERLY DYSFUNCTION WE LOVEEEEE even tho the character of Robert is kinda tricky bc his character is rooted in his manhood but fuck it we ball maybe we can just make Westeros a matriarchy #Feminism

Fem Roberta (definitely named Roberta) (also the middle Katie McGrath pic is the fc) is the kinda the biggest lesbian bait ever. Non-dutiful eldest daughter set to inherit storms end but she does NAWT give a shit she wants to go play around in the Vale with fem Ned and drink and whore etc etc. Rides and fights like a man and even wears men’s armor but still dresses and (sometimes) acts like a noble lady when the situation calls for it. She’s not a tomboy who chafes at nobility she’s a rowdy noble girl who LOVES her status she loves excess. Charismatic girl who managed to get men to follow her into war to get back Fem Ned’s little brother even though she loves him like a prize. And she loves the idea of being connected to Ned more than that. But other than her homoerotic obsession with her best friend and she is totally and completely heterosexual 👍🏻

Fem Stannis (Stana? Castana?) is kinda so Eva Green do we see the vision people. She’s a flop daughter who dresses like a utilitarian, very little room in her looks for comfort. Internalized misogyny for days bc she thinks if she were a son she could be so much better than her sister is. She’s kinda like if Cersei slayed a little less. When Roberta dies she can’t garner any support bc even though they were both women, her elder sister was always more persuasive and well liked, which is half the reason she became queen. So now she’s behind her bastard nephew and nieces who aren’t even related to her in the line of succession (let’s pretend masc Cersei and fem Jamie swapped the kids or smthn idk 😭). And her new red witch is not doing favors for the people who think magic = dark and womanly and evil. She’s such a flop and gay for the older pirate lady who saved her life and she can never do anything right ily girl

And Fem Renly/Rena/Renia is kinda the baddest bitch in the seven kingdoms. She’s even prettier than Roberta was at her age, and just as charismatic, and far more agreeable, acting more like a “proper” lady. Though she rides as well as her eldest sister, and even took up the sword too, wanting to be a warrior queen when she was little. Her fits always go crazy, a fourth of the treasury at storms end is set aside for her favorite green enameling and gold accessories. She’s kinda the star of court and thinks Roberta has gotten lazy and Stana has too much of a stick up her ass to be a good queen. Ofc in true Baratheon fashion she has a gay who worships her like a god, her trusted lady-knight Lora Tyrell, who gives her the support of her house before she unfortunately gets merked. Rip queen I wish you could’ve been mean on the internet

#asoiaf #lesbian Baratheons my beloved #Stannis was already a lesbian without gender bending him but that’s neither here nor there

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horizon-verizon · 6 days

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Alicent is such a pussy ass bitch, “the beacon burns green when House Hightower calls their banner to war,” she wore a green dress to Rhaenyra’s wedding to signal her allegiance to her house over her husband’s and as a call to arms, and since then, she wore GREEN EVERYDAY, but now that the war that she’s been instigating for 16 years pops off, she suddenly wants to wear blue, fuck off to the forest, and pretend like it’s not what she wanted. I truly can’t stand her mosquitamuerta ass.

"mosquitamuerta" -- I searched it up, means someone who 's doing something shady but makes themselves look innocent and not responsible for it.

Yeah, that's my other issue with Alicent. I have said several times how the green dress moment made no sense for several reasons[twitter, this one more about how she would never have chosen that particular dress], Alicent of episodes 6-7 show a "warring" Alicent. It's not just that she would never choose to wear that dress and not for the color, but it's that the writers nullified Alicent's whole arc of her becoming a true direct and rounded threat towards the blacks when we get to the 8th episode.

Or maybe they were forced to nullify it and make nothing of it after episode 7 bc they erroneously positioned the conservative "rebel". Or that it inevitably fell apart.

There is a huge difference b/t bk!Rhaenyra wearing her black dress in clear, broadcasted self-affirming defiance to the woman who is trying to get her removed from her position using her gender against her VS show!Alicent "rebelling" because Rhaenyra refused to endanger herself and tell the truth about her, Cole, & Daemon. Rhaenyra was not complying to those sexist calls made by both fans AND those who had to have been at court & went closer to the queen's party for her to just give up. This is itself a knock against patriarchy.

Whereas with show!Alicent--though yes she is clearly trying to convey she won't try to fit herself into the Targaryen family, work for the royal family's interests more, make herself more "Targ"--it is also true that she ends up still trying to genuinely [key word] trying to make Viserys comfortable, make herself his perfect wife, follow what she thinks was his wishes (and I'm talking about before he died and after episode 5), etc.. She, unlike red-black-dress-bk!Rhaenyra, is still sincerely trying to abide by the patriarchal feudal status quo's principles of wifely obedience/solicitation to punch down on Rhaenyra, the "rebel". Thus, yeah, Alicent's green dress moment just transitions into the downward spiral she vaults herself on.

It would have made way more sense for Alicent to confront Otto, the person who actually ruined her life by pimping her out to Viserys. No, she is in a repressed delusion and probably would never, but that's exactly my point--this moment is supposed to be a clarifying moment where we the viewer/reader see who has been the victim, who the harasser, who the protagonist, who the antagonist, who the beleaguered, who the harasser. Giving that to the woman who will unfairly abuse Rhaenyra for basically not complying with an abusive system as perfectly as she should is self defeating, opposite of what this story is about, and discourages female self assertion through a distortion and using a token woman to do that job for you. Look, it's a woman doing this, and a terribly abused woman, too, she has to be right! Rhaenyra is the one who should have "done her duty" and not lie to Alicent! Meanwhile, Alicent's father is trying to get Rhaenyra removed and Alicent, back in episode 3, did not tell Rhaenyra that Otto is basically forcing her to visit Viserys and become his wife. No, Alicent was telling her to not mind the political plots of the men, or mind men's business when Rhaenyra is heir (and must concern herself w/politics!) AND Otto is one of those Rhaenyra has to watch out for but Alicent is actively preventing her from doing so!! And not even purposefully, which does not make her impressive, but sad. Which isn't fun and a total downgrade from her orig self.

...Plus, Rhaenyra of the show didn't even understand wtf Alicent was doing with the green dress bc on her end she still thinks Alicent doesn't know bc Alicent has not let anyone know what Cole said to her...by contrast, it is likely that bk!Alicent understood Rhaenyra's message in her wearing the black dress at her anniversary.

That moment of episode 5 was peak gaslighting, male gaze, & manipulation.

#asoiaf asks to me #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #criston cole #hotd writing #hotd characterization #alicent's characterization #hotd episode 5

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mtkay13 · 1 year

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Wenzhou's first appearances and first time meeting!

I think those were my first serious attempts at illustrating TYK scenes? I do feel an itch to redraw the WKX one, to be honest, because his design and my way of drawing him changed a little. I also have another expression in mind -although this one isn't bad. I recently reread both passages -his first introduction/description and their first time meeting- and I love how expressionless and almost inhuman WKX is described. Although I think I managed some of that in my illustrations, I still hope I'll get a chance to try again later. Also! His nails are so short on the first meeting one, compared to how long I draw them now! That's funny.

ZZS hasn't changed much, though. Ever since I started obsessing with his book description, his design and face shape have been pretty solid in my mind. I have an interesting story about his mouth shape, though. I tend to prefer drawing plush, sexy lips. When I read the description of his "thin lips" in the books (both Qi Ye and TYK), I was quite dissappointed at first. I remember messaging at least 3 mandarin-speaking friends to confirm with them that the words used in mandarin (薄 in Qi Ye and 轻薄 in TYK) really weren't just a metaphor for something and had to be understood as "thin". That investigation sent me into a small rabbit hole: In QY, the description doesn't leave much room for interpretation. 薄means "thin", and that's it. Interestingly enough though, in the case of TYK, the fan translations all had a different interpretation for the whole sentence describing ZZS' mouth :

嘴唇却轻薄得很，叫那俊美的脸凭空添了一种薄情寡义的味道。

The word highlighted, 轻薄, has been translated as : "scornful", "contemptuous" and "very thin". According to the dictionary, it can mean "light", "frivolous", "a philanderer", "disrespectful", "to scorn". Pretty open to interpretation, then. But the interesting bit is in the following idiom, also highlighted : 薄情寡义. According to Lianzi, and later my own research, it is used to described someone who has no feelings nor attachment, or as a person who plays with hearts but never gets attached (a bunch of articles would use that expression to describe the type of men women should never date, lol). The sentence can then be turned into two widely different directions, right? Disrespectful can fit well with "someone who has no feelings". In my opinion, though, I like the idea of "frivolous" (or insouciant, as Lianzi translated it) being paired with it. A slight smile, almost charming, but devoid of any actual feelings. I think it suits the persona of someone who has had to deal with nobles and court people for the past 10 years, but who is also, now, empty inside and just can't wait for his freedom, wich is now within a few hours' reach. On top of that, ZZS tends, within the novel, to smile and laugh quite often, and he's quite the agreeable person, save for with ZCL and sometimes WKX. Clearly, when he lets his emotions and true self speak more, he does tend to be more prone to emotional outbursts, anger and grumpiness, but a semi-permanent light smile on his lips does feel very fitting, to me. Anway, that's it for the bigger-than-expected meta chunk on ZZS' mouth haha. I wish there was a lot to say about WKX's appearance too, but we don't have much to work with aside from ZZS just gawking at how beautiful and statuesque he is. No precise features to analyse and adapt, unfortunately. Anyway, thanks for reading!

#tian ya ke #wenzhou #zhou zishu #wen kexing #tyk #zzs #wkx #meta #design talk

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thelostgirl21 · 7 months

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When you read some of the things you'd written before watching Season 3, and they suddenly take on a new meaning...

His "weapon" isn't a sword, magic, or even his lute. After all, "Whoreson Prison Blues" sounded fantastic accompanied by spoons!

Yes. Spoons always make Jaskier sound fantastic. Jaskier really knows how to work with spoons, and work those spoons!

All Jaskier truly needs, to sound great and inspired, really, is a spoon!

Give Jaskier a spoon, and they'll be making sweet music together... Both literally and figuratively...

He doesn't need a weapon, he's one of the single most influential character of the series, in a sense, just by virtue of existing and doing "what he does best" - being an impulsively chaotic bard either seducing or pissing people off; and just touching things he probably shouldn't touch, and putting random stuff in his mouth.

Radovid, Comma Prince of Redania: *Spends his whole life doing everything he can to stay under the radar, be kept out of Redanian politics, and appear really dumb, incompetent, and drunk (note: although he was only pretending to be drunk with Jaskier in that scene, I think Hugh Skinner mentioned that Radovid does drink quite a lot to cope with everything that's going on, though, sort of as a way to "self-medicate") so people will let him be.*

Jaskier: *Shows up.*

Radovid: *Intensely crushes on him. Forgets he's supposed to play dumb, and instead offers actually good and sensible arguments as to why Jaskier Cirilla should come live with them in Redania.*

Jaskier: *Shows willingness to listen to Radovid, and offers to do what he can to convince Geralt and Ciri to accept the offer, should they find a way to get rid of Rience.*

Philippa: *Is impressed, and compliments Radovid on it.*

Radovid: *Immediately attempts to go back to playing dumb, hiding, and hopefully being of no interest to her or anyone else at court.*

Jaskier: *Shows up again, flirts with Radovid, lets him know that he's not fooled by his dumb drunken playboy prince act, utterly seduces him with a song (and as many "come hither looks" as one can humanly make fit in a single encounter) and humbly asks for his help.*

Radovid: *Falls even deeper in love with him, drops his act with Jaskier and agrees to help him. Suddenly gets deeply involved in Redanian politics. Argues with the spymasters that, maybe, they should start using carrots with people instead of sticks. Puts Philippa on Rience's trail, while letting Dijkstra know about his brother's secret meetings with Nilfgaard (probably counting on him to change Vizimir's mind regarding his plans of handing Ciri over to the Emperor), regularly starts showing disdain for Dijkstra's methods and gets himself on the spymaster's "shitlist"...*

Of course, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know:

Queen Hedwig is dead,

King Vizimir is dead, and now he's

Radovid, Comma King of Redania.

Right at the start of the second war between the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire, no less...

With his sister-in-law and brother's murderer(s) still likely running around the castle somewhere, and working for the people that just put that crown on his head...

And the love of his life still out there, risking his own life, hopefully having managed to reunite with Geralt, and now facing who knows how many dangers to attempt to go rescue Ciri...

So much for staying under the radar and avoiding to get politically involved!

Jaskier: *Seduces the Prince of Redania and uses his lips for extraordinary things...

...accidentally triggers a series of events that changes Redania's line of succession, and totally upends the power structure and dynamic of the strongest kingdom of the Continent!*

By this point, I would almost expect Geralt's response to learning that Vizimir has been assassinated, and that Prince Radovid has ascended to the throne, to be:

"Alright Jaskier, what did you do?"

Obviously, I knew that Prince Radovid was rumored to be Jaskier's new love interest in Season 3 back then... But I had absolutely no idea what Radovid's character would be like in terms of personality, motivations, etc.

Turns out that they found Jaskier a love interest that is basically as directionless and lonely in life as Geralt used to be in Season 1. Someone that doesn't want to get involved in politics or any of those games people in position of power like to play, and is basically just going through the motions of his life...

Until Jaskier shows up and, suddenly, he finds himself right at the heart of those politics, forced to make decisions and choices that will shape the future of the whole freaking Continent!

The main difference is that Geralt sort of continuously fought against Destiny, tried to ignore it, deny it, and push it away. And then, he blamed Jaskier for everything that went wrong and attempted to cut himself from him!

Whereas Radovid just immediately found himself irresistibly drawn to it and embraced whatever changes Jaskier brought into his life, while starting to make choices and take risks out of love without ever blaming him for it, or making it sound like he remotely held Jaskier responsible whenever things misfired or went wrong.

And even when things do go horribly wrong, all Radovid can think of, apparently, while looking at his dead brother is "going to see Jaskier."

But then, Geralt is much older than Radovid is and, from what I understand, has had his dreams and hopes crushed quite a few times whenever he's let his guard down and dared get attached to people in the past.

When you keep suffering loss after loss after loss... at some point, you probably figure that the best way to avoid loss is no longer feeling like you have anything valuable to lose. If you need no one, then you won't risk losing anyone.

Whereas Radovid's never had anyone from his own world he was able to genuinely emotionally connect with. And suddenly, he finds someone that sees him and is making an effort to attempt to understand him - something and someone he's discovered that he needs and doesn't want to lose.

But yeah, it's really fascinating, on the show, to see the way that our beloved bard just keeps... basically causing stuff to happen!

For better or for worse, Jaskier is making people that seemingly don't want to get involved be involved, and making them discover whatever their purpose appears to be in the grand scheme of things!

Yennefer:

The "Destiny" that brought them together:

And now that Lauren Hissrich has clearly stated that Ciri wasn't the descendant of Éile and Fjall that the prophecy was referring to in "The Witcher: Blood Origin", one has to wonder if it could be Jaskier.

Okay, first I just want to address people saying that it's sort of a "retcon" on what she'd said in the past and that she'd "all but confirmed it was Ciri already", because I actually found that interview and listened to it, and that's not quite what I took from it.

I mean yes, I can see how it could have been interpreted the way it was, but what she actually said is:

"Éile's pregnant, at the end. And we know that that's part of Ithlinne's Prophecy; that there is a seed in her that will eventually lead to someone who's important in the Witcher's world.

So, as someone who, for instance, on "The Witcher" 's side, follows Ciri and the origin of her genes and her blood... It's like, I kinda wanna know where that character's gonna go.

I wanna know if these two things are going to, you know, crash into each other at some point."

So, the way I personally understand it is that:

"Blood Origin" introduced the idea that there currently is someone, in the Witcher's world, that is connected to the Ithlinne's Prophecy by blood (by virtue of being the descendant of Fjall and the Lark), and that they will sing the last note of a song that ends all time.

The prophecy about them goes:

"The time of the spheres is upon us. Aen Seidhe [the elves of the Continent] lost across the skies. Cast adrift in time. Ever searching for love, lost and left behind. The Lark’s seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all times. And one of her blood shall sing the last."

And that, on the show "The Witcher", Ciri's also a character whose genes and blood is given a lot of attention and importance to. So, as a member of the audience, she'd be curious to know if these two different characters are going to crash into each other at some point, and those two parts of the Prophecy are going to connect.

The rest of the Ithlinne's Prophecy from the books, that's connected to Ciri, is:

"Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves... May Ye All Wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us. Your lands shall they trample and divide with rope. Your cities razed shall be, their dwellers expelled. The bat, owl and raven your homes shall infest, and the serpent will therein make its nest..."

She also said, in a Tudum Interview: "One of the things that we love about Sapkowski’s books is his attention to genes, to bloodlines, and to how families grow and develop."

And in Season 3, Jaskier keeps referring to Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer as "his family".

They may not be related by blood, but they are still "family" to him, in the truest sense (like, I think, the Seven established a family-like bond).

And Jaskier is the one that brought them all together. "The Lark’s most precious note shall be the key to all things", and Jaskier does feel like he's the key to all things, at times.

He's just randomly traveling the Continent, unlocking people's destinies left and right, connecting with them, struggling with the thought of settling down.

He's also drawn to people that are "ever searching for love", and that feel "lost and left behind".

Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri... Radovid, even.

And, of course, the elves, that he became "The Sandpiper" to protect.

What I'm also wondering is if the part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy, at the end of "Blood Origin", was added at the same time that they chose to introduce Seanchai and change the role that Jaskier was initially meant to play in the spinoff.

Because it would appear that Seanchai's true form would be that of an ancient elf.

So, "Blood Origin" introduces us to two incredibly powerful ancient elves with the ability to cross time and dimensions.

Avalach, that shares a connection to Ciri in the books (I won't spoil it for those that haven't read it), and

2. Seanchai.

So, what if Seanchai was the child of Éile and Fjall? The Lark’s seed, that shall carry forth (throughout history) the first note of a song that ends all times?

And this is sort of what the show's creator had to say about her character:

It just sort of fitted so well in. When I was thinking about this idea with Seanchaí story collection, it was that moment where all the story about music, and story and words being more powerful than any army, sort of all felt less than [compared] to [having] it sort of personified in this sort of creature that’s raison d'être is to collect stories because they are so powerful. It was great. And the name Seanchaí actually comes from... It was a position in Ireland where you were a storyteller, and you went between the halls of kings, and you went to chieftains and people, and they were the most powerful people in the land and kings were fucking terrified of them – and queens – because one bad story would destroy you as a king. And they were far more worried about that than any army. And then bringing that back to life in this world, it just all clicked. It was one of those lovely synchronous moments of story.

Because the child of Fjall and the Lark is supposed to carry forth (not sing, carry) the first note of the song...

...and one of her blood shall sing the last note of that song.

And when Jaskier asks Seanchai "Why did you save me from the Temerians?", she answers "I need you to sing a story back to life. We're related you an I."

She then explains that he's a bard and she's a storyteller, of a sort...

But that's just the thing. A storyteller might be able to carry the notes of a song - for centuries, perhaps - but she would need a bard to actually sing it when the time was right.

And yeah... The idea that she meant a bit more than just "storytellers and bards have a lot in common" when she said "we're related, you and I", would be intriguing...

The problem, however, is that should it be Jaskier (regardless of him being related to Seanchai or not...), it would sort of make that part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy extremely literal. Almost too literal, one might say.

Not to mention that the way the scene is filmed really seems to be meant to heavily imply that it is Jaskier.

Because, when Seanchai says "...and one of her blood shall sing the last", we are pulled out of the past to the present, where Jaskier is seen writing the last words of a story.

And, when he tries to get her to elaborate on who she's referring to, the answer Jaskier gets is: "Sing the 'Song of the Seven', Sandpiper".

Then, when Jaskier looks back at the last page of the story he's just written, the camera zooms in on "...and one of her blood shall sing the last.", while it starts raining, some dramatic ominous music starts playing, and Jaskier is suddenly back to standing on the battlefield.

So, it feels like she's giving him the answer to his question by telling him to sing.

Then, Seanchai goes on, saying "...so the oppressed may find hope and strenght in the tale of their ancestors; and be ready for the great change to come;" and you see an elf come to squeeze Jaskier's shoulder to let him know the battle is won (at least, this one), and invite him to follow them.

And, even if the only way that Seanchai and Jaskier were "related" would be through their love for either collecting and preserving stories, and/or sharing those stories with the world, she still says that she needs him to sing a story back to life.

So, if you were a powerful ancient elf that actually knew who was meant to sing the very last note of a specific story, wouldn't you want to let them know how the story actually began, too?

Jaskier: I'm just a bard.

Seanchai: In her mind, going:

A bard with a blood marked by beast and magic, that felt an instant connection and deep sense of kinship towards a Witcher that everyone hated, feared, and called a "Butcher"...

A bard that brought said Witcher to Calanthe's banquet - where he prevented Duny's demise, and claimed his future daughter, the Elder Blood Princess, as his own.

A bard that brought the Witcher to Yennefer of Vengenberg, the sorceress that would come to love that child as her own daughter, too, and help protect and raise her, too.

A bard that feels intimately drawn to everyone on the Continent - men, women, elves, dwarves, even polymorphous, apparently... - regardless of race or creed, and would step in and risk his life to protect those being persecuted on the basis of being seen as "the other"...

A bard that embodies the complexity, beauty, and diversity of everyone's stories on the Continent, and feels like - if the muses stopped talking to him and inspiring him to write and sing those songs - he'd have no idea who he was anymore, and would no longer be able to do the one thing he was put on this Continent to do?

A bard that inspires people to grow, get involved, and ultimately become the better versions of themselves...

A bard, whose ancestors' fight against Balor lead to the Conjunction of the Spheres, the arrival of the humans on the Continent, of the monsters, the creation of the Witchers, and the beginning of a story that he'll witness and sing the conclusion of.

But yes, just a bard.

But yeah, it's like the show is pointing us so strongly in Jaskier's direction and wanting us so much to think it's him that it's almost suspicious or "too easy" to assume it's him.

What also makes me hesitate, in some ways, is that people would expect someone that's been described as having "a blood like no other, marked by beast and magic", to be exhibiting superhuman powers of some sort, and have powerful magic of their own, I suppose.

While Jaskier is very much human. But Seanchai (and the show runners, apparently) sees great power in the ability to shape the world through storytelling, and she makes it sound like she truly respects Jaskier's "power", and the way he's been using his voice to help change people's perception of outcasts.

Even "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was all about changing the way people irrationally feared and reviled witchers, and treated them as freaks.

Yes, he threw Filivandrel and the elves under the bus with that one!

No one's denying that, and I've always headcanoned that one of the reasons why he became the Sandpiper is because he realized he truly messed up with "Toss A Coin", and was attempting to take responsibility for his mistakes and right some of his wrongs.

But "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was still about changing people's perception of witchers, so that Geralt would be seen as a noble, brave, larger-than-life heroic protector that was also a friend you could just enjoy a pint with, rather than some unrelatable mutant freak without any emotion that one should fear and keep their distance from in general, unless they had an even more dangerous monster needing killing.

He tried helping one outcast, but sadly made things worse for others.

And we also have to remember that we're talking about a very young Jaskier that had been brought up in the human world until then, and likely didn't fully grasp nor understand how much damage humanity had done to the elder races. We're talking about someone with a fairly limited worldview that genuinely thought elves were just "hiding in their golden palaces" while humanity suffered until, like, seconds ago.

Filivandrel might have started shaking those perceptions, but I doubt it would have been enough to completely make him unlearn all the lies and prejudices he'd been taught, and fully realize that what had happened to Filivandrel wasn't the exception when it came to elves, but the norm.

Now, Jaskier knows and understands better. Back then? He still had things to learn. I guess my point is that, despite all of his flaws and shortcomings as a young bard, Jaskier was still using his voice in ways meant to help someone connect with, and be accepted by, the world.

He's always been highly empathetic, and likely to spontaneously side with those that needed to have a voice after having been cast aside.

And, should Jaskier be, indeed, the descendant of the very first Witcher, it does add a rather unique element to the way he immediately trusted that he'd be safe traveling with Geralt, and never instinctively feared who and what he was, regardless of the reputation he'd acquired after Blaviken.

Something in Jaskier's DNA would apparently be telling him that Witchers make perfectly suitable life companions!

And Fjall was kicked out of his clan when they found out he was having an affair with Princess Merwyn!

So, getting into trouble because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry would be a family trait that would go back generations!

It can't be helped, really!

Éile was into Dog Clan people and Witchers.

Jaskier is into Wolf Clan people and Witchers.

Fjall was into Royals and Bards.

Jaskier is into Royals and Himself.

These three are obviously related!

"Song of the Seven" would be a part of Jaskier's own heritage, too. He'd be singing about the history of his own ancestors, and their very own "found family", rather than singing about a group of outcasts he has no intimate or personal connection to.

And, should Éile indeed be one of Jaskier's ancestors...

Well, she was called "The Lark"...

And Jaskier chose to call himself "The Sandpiper"...

It's actually what Seanchai replied when Jaskier asked "Are you sure you've got the right man for this?"

Something like "Of course I am. You're the Sandpiper. Smuggler of elves to safety."

Apparently, small sandpipers are also sometimes called "sand larks".

So...

If Jaskier was the one referred to in that part of that Prophecy, then the song would start with the Lark's seed... and end with a Sand Lark!

Then, there's Radovid...

Because, of course, out of Jaskier's entire repertoire, he would be drawn to that song the most!

A part of me can't help but think I'm just looking way too deep into this, and making connections that are probably extremely accidental, but still, I can't help but think it would be really cool if Jaskier did end up being the Continent's MVP, in a sense.

If the whole point of Blood Origin - beyond giving us some insight on how the first Witchers were created and why, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the humans arriving on the Continent, etc. - was to clearly establish bards/storytellers (namely Éile, Jaskier, Seanchai...) as being some of the most powerful beings of their world.

While some would probably find it anticlimactic that Ithlinne's Prophecy, in "Blood Origin", would simply be about a "humble human bard" that would have inherited Éile's gift for storytelling and singing - rather than some sort of primal power or something (due to their connection to the first Witcher) - I think it would be fitting.

Dijkstra & Philippa: We have control over Redania’s resources!

Radovid: I have a Sandpiper.

He's just like the Queen on the chessboard, fiercely protecting the King by messing up the other pieces' moves, hard to predict because he can take off in too many directions and in too many ways...

And everyone's also after him, trying to knock him down, because he just keeps fucking their game over!

Also, as it turns out, there were many more character posters this season! And Jaskier wasn't the only one without a "physical weapon" or object of some sort...

But my favorite's got to be Radovid. I mean Jaskier's standing there, taking everything in, hyper-alert and ready to do "something" about it.

And our poor sweetheart is just... standing there with his fur heavy blanket cloak, discreetly looking over his shoulder, looking half-curious about what's happening and half totally done with this shit, just about ready to pour himself yet another drink...

Story of his life!

#Jaskier #Radovid #Radskier #The Witcher #The Witcher: Blood Origin #My Posts #My Thoughts #My Stuff

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