#cannot express to you how obsessed with this scene i am

[poisonedfate]

bbc merlin - 03x05 The Crystal Cave

[hisfavegirl]

Obsession's Edge - Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : He was a man of war, a conqueror forged in battle and bloodshed. But tonight, as he stood before you, his eyes held something else—something more dangerous than rage. Expectation. You knew what he meant. Your fate had been decided long before this moment. You were to be the last. The final wife. The one who would give him what he desired most. A son. A legacy.

Word Count : 8k

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The scene unfolds in the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, where tension clings to the air like a heavy shroud. You stand at the edge of the grand chamber, your hands clasped tightly in front of you as your eyes rest on the imposing figure of your brother, Maegor. His towering frame radiates power, and the infamous Blackfyre sword in his hand glints ominously in the flickering torchlight.

Once again, Maegor’s guards carry the lifeless body of his latest wife, his fifth attempt at securing a son and heir. The sight is as grim as it is familiar. The bloodstains on her pale dress speak of another failed birth, another sacrifice in Maegor’s unrelenting quest for a legacy.

Your stomach churns as you glance at your mother, Visenya, who stands by the hearth. She holds Maegor’s infant daughter—another girl—in her arms. Her face is a mask of cold indifference, her piercing gaze fixed on her son. The child wails softly, but Visenya pays her no mind, cradling the babe as if she were holding a mere object, not flesh and blood.

You take a hesitant step forward. “Brother,” you begin, your voice steady but cautious. “How much longer will this… madness continue? The gods—”

“The gods have cursed me!” Maegor growls, his voice echoing through the chamber. His knuckles whiten as he grips Blackfyre tighter. “They deny me a son, but I will not be denied. I am the blood of the dragon. I will have an heir.”

“And how many more must die for you to prove that?” you ask softly, though your words are like daggers. Your heart aches at the scene before you, but you know better than to openly defy him. Maegor’s wrath is as legendary as his strength.

His dark eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something— frustration, desperation. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar coldness. “You speak of things you do not understand,” he snaps, his tone brooking no argument.

Visenya finally breaks her silence. “Enough,” she says, her voice calm but commanding. “This is not the time to quarrel. There is work to be done.”

You glance at your mother, noting the faint lines of weariness on her face. Even Visenya Targaryen, the indomitable matriarch, cannot entirely mask the strain of watching her son spiral further into darkness.

Maegor steps closer to you, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over your smaller frame. “Do not speak to me of curses or consequences,” he hisses. “You do not bear the weight of a throne, sister. You do not understand the price of power.”

Your throat tightens, but you hold your ground. “And you do not understand the price of the lives you destroy,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, silence stretches between you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, without another word, Maegor turns on his heel and storms out of the chamber, the echo of his boots fading into the distance.

Visenya approaches you, the infant still cradled in her arms. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at you. “Do not provoke him,” she says quietly. “It will do no good.”

“And neither will enabling him,” you counter, though your tone lacks the fire of before.

She sighs, a rare sign of weariness. “We are Targaryens. We endure. We survive. That is what matters.”

As she walks away, the child’s cries growing fainter, you’re left alone in the chamber. The weight of your family’s legacy presses down on you, and you can’t help but wonder: How many more will suffer before the madness ends?

The corridors of the Red Keep were eerily silent as you made your way back to your chambers. The events of the night weighed heavily on your mind. You tried to banish the thoughts of your mother and Maegor, of the infant girl whose cries still echoed faintly in your ears. You didn’t want to think about what would become of the child—or what decisions your family might make under the cover of darkness.

Entering your chamber, you let out a soft sigh and closed the heavy wooden door behind you, shutting out the world beyond. The flickering light of the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, offering a small semblance of warmth in the cold, unforgiving keep.

You approached the dressing table and began to undo the clasps of your gown. Your hands moved mechanically, your mind still racing with questions you dared not voice. Was it truly the gods who cursed your brother, or was this all a punishment of his own making?

The silk of your gown slipped from your shoulders and pooled around your feet. You exchanged it for a simpler nightgown, one that offered comfort over extravagance. The soft fabric brushed against your skin as you pulled it over your head, and for a moment, you felt a sense of relief, however fleeting.

But before you could settle in, a quiet sound behind you made you freeze—a faint shuffling, as if someone was in the room. Your heart quickened, and you turned sharply, eyes scanning the dimly lit space. Then, you saw it: the hidden door in the far corner of your chamber, one you hadn’t even known existed until recently, creaked open.

From the shadows emerged Maegor, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the stone floor. He stepped into the room with a purposeful stride, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were intense. He had shed his armor, but Blackfyre was still strapped to his side, a constant reminder of who he was.

“Brother,” you said cautiously, your voice low. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he closed the hidden door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. His gaze swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the soft fabric of your nightgown.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so unguarded,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact but carrying an edge.

You frowned. “I am in my own chambers. Do you expect an assassin to crawl out of the shadows?”

“In this keep?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You’d be a fool to think yourself safe, even here.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you tried not to show it. “Why are you here, Maegor? Did you come to discuss safety, or is there something else on your mind?”

He moved closer, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. “Do you think me a monster?” he asked abruptly, his voice low but sharp.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, searching for the right words. “I think…” you began slowly, “that you’ve done monstrous things. But I also think the weight of the crown has hardened you more than it should.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, as if considering your words. Then he turned back to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I do what must be done,” he said firmly, though there was a flicker of something—doubt, perhaps—in his voice. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I take pleasure in burying wife after wife, child after child?”

“I don’t know what you feel,” you admitted softly. “You don’t let anyone see that part of you.”

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. “And what would it change if they did? Would it bring me a son? Would it silence the whispers of weakness?”

“No,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “But it might remind people that you’re still human. That you still bleed like the rest of us.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he studied you for a long moment. Then, without warning, he reached out and cupped your face in his hand. The gesture was almost tender, a stark contrast to the coldness you had come to associate with him.

“You’re different,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You see me, not just the crown. Not just the king.”

“Because I’m your sister,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “And because I know there’s still something good in you, no matter how deeply you’ve buried it.”

For a moment, it looked as though he might say something more. But instead, he released you and stepped back, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it had come.

“Get some rest,” he said, his tone colder now, though there was a hint of softness beneath it. “Tomorrow will bring more battles, as it always does.”

You took a deep breath and turned toward Maegor before he could step back into the hidden passage.

“Stay,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his sharp features shadowed in the dim candlelight. “It’s late,” he replied curtly, his tone clipped. “You should rest. So should I.”

“I’m asking you to stay with me,” you said, stepping closer. Your voice was steady, though your heart was racing. “You’re my brother, Maegor. I don’t mind your company, and you need the rest just as much as I do.”

He hesitated, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly. “I am not in the habit of seeking comfort,” he said gruffly, though the way his hand lingered on the hilt of Blackfyre betrayed some inner conflict.

“You don’t have to seek it,” you replied gently, moving closer until you stood directly in front of him. “I’m offering it to you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. The air between you was tense, and you could see the walls he kept around himself, the ones he refused to let anyone breach. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered, as though he was doing you a favor. “But don’t think this will become a habit.”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Of course not.”

As he stood there, unmoving, you reached for the heavy belt that secured Blackfyre at his hip. Your fingers brushed against his as you began to unfasten it, and for a moment, his hand lingered before he let you take over. Carefully, you slid the belt free and placed it on the small table near your bed.

“You don’t always have to carry it, you know,” you said, glancing back at him as you gestured to Blackfyre.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I do,” he replied simply. “It’s who I am.”

“You’re more than that sword, Maegor,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

You paused, your breath hitching as Maegor’s words hung in the air.

“Perhaps the reason my wives have failed me,” he said, his voice low and almost thoughtful, “is because they are not of the blood of the dragon. But you…”

He let the statement linger, and you turned your head to look at him. His piercing gaze met yours, unflinching, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maegor,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his tone unwavering. He leaned closer, his hand sliding to your arm and pulling you gently into his embrace. “You are of the blood of Old Valyria, born to the same fire and blood that flows through my veins. If anyone could give me a son—a true heir—it would be you.”

Your mind raced, his words sinking in. You had always known that your mother, had plans for you—plans tied to your brother’s throne. She had often spoken of uniting the bloodlines to strengthen House Targaryen. But hearing Maegor speak of it so plainly, so deliberately, made your chest tighten.

“That’s why Mother promised me to you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his hand moving to gently cradle the side of your face. “She sees what I see,” he said, his voice softer now. “The strength in you. The fire.”

You tried to look away, but he held you there, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Do you think I want this, Maegor?” you asked, your tone laced with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance.

“I think,” he began, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke, “that it is not about what we want, but what we must do—for the house, for the throne, and for the bloodline.”

You shivered as his words sank in, and though you wanted to push him away, his warmth was oddly comforting. He tightened his hold on you, his strength both intimidating and reassuring.

“You could give me what no one else has,” he whispered against your ear, his voice sending a chill down your spine. “A son. An heir. You could ensure the strength of our house for generations to come.”

“Maegor…” you started, but your words faltered as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Think about it,” he said, his tone still calm but laced with something darker, something possessive. “It is your destiny. You were meant for me.”

You felt your resolve waver, torn between the weight of his words and the emotions swirling within you. You had grown up knowing your place in the family, knowing what was expected of you. But this… this was more than you had ever anticipated.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

“You can,” he said firmly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And you will. Together, we will be unstoppable.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, your mind a storm of doubt and confusion. Whether it was fate or folly, you couldn’t yet say. But in that moment, as his arms tightened around you and his whispers filled the silence, it felt as though you had no choice at all.

You stood frozen as Maegor’s words hung in the air, the mention of your mother, making your chest tighten. You did respect her—more than anyone. She was the guiding force of your life, her word as close to law as the Seven themselves. Refusing her was unthinkable. Maegor knew this, and the faint smirk on his face revealed he was fully aware of how deeply her influence bound you.

Maegor stepped closer, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You will not refuse me,” he murmured, though there was no real question in his voice. “You would not dare defy mother’s wishes.” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

You glanced at him, lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out. He was right. You could already hear your mother’s voice in your head, her arguments laid out plainly, reminding you of duty and legacy.

Maegor stepped closer, his imposing frame towering over you. “You’ve always followed her commands,” he continued, his voice softening but losing none of its authority. “You’ve never failed her before. And this? This is what she wants.”

Your silence made him chuckle—a rare, low sound that startled you. He was so often stoic, cold even, but now there was something different in him. Something almost… warm.

He raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You think too much,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Just let it happen.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was not the demanding kiss you might have expected from him—it was slow, careful, and deliberate, as if he had been waiting for this moment for years. His hands cupped your face, holding you gently but firmly, ensuring you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

You froze, unsure of what to do. But as the kiss deepened, you felt yourself melting into it despite the swirl of thoughts in your mind. The warmth of his lips, the way his touch seemed to steady your trembling form—it was disarming.

When he finally pulled back, his violet eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection. But you remained silent, your breath uneven, your cheeks flushed.

“You see,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your jawline. “It feels… right. Doesn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, unable to deny the strange pull you felt toward him. He had always been a part of your life, a figure of strength and dominance. And now, as he stood before you, so certain and unyielding, it was as if the world itself had conspired to place you in his arms.

“What if I’m not enough?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “What if I fail you, too?”

His expression softened, his hands moving to your shoulders. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “You are of the blood of the dragon. My equal. My match. Together, we’ll do what no one else has.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sank in. There was no escaping this—no denying what your mother had already decided for you, what Maegor had clearly longed for.

As he leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your knees weak, you realized that this was no longer just about duty or tradition. This was about Maegor’s unwavering belief in you, his determination to claim you as his own. And for the first time, you wondered if perhaps you didn’t mind being claimed.

Maegor’s hands gripped your waist as he effortlessly lifted you, settling you onto his lap as if you weighed nothing. The strength in his touch was undeniable, and yet there was something careful about the way he held you, as though you were the most precious thing he’d ever claimed.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the thick, silver strands of his hair. He pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His confidence was overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating, pulling you further into his orbit.

You hesitated for only a moment before giving in, letting yourself lean into the kiss. When your lips finally began to move against his, Maegor let out a low hum of approval. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “There she is,” he murmured, his smirk unmistakable. “I knew you wouldn’t resist me for long.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them sinking into your chest. He leaned in again, his lips ghosting over your jawline, trailing down to the curve of your neck. You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, his tongue quickly soothing the spot he’d bitten.

“Maegor…” you whispered, unsure whether it was meant as a plea or a protest.

He chuckled against your neck, his hands roaming over the curve of your hips. “Say my name again,” he commanded softly, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitated, but when he nipped at your skin again, a quiet, breathless “Maegor” escaped your lips. He growled in approval, his grip on you tightening as he kissed his way back to your lips.

“You’re mine,” he said against your mouth, his tone firm and unyielding. “Do you understand that?”

You nodded, your mind spinning as his words and actions consumed you. His hands moved back to your waist, holding you steady as he pressed you closer to him.

“You’re the only one who can give me what I want,” he continued, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “A son. A true heir. And I’ll make sure of it.”

His words should have frightened you, but instead, they filled you with a strange sense of purpose—a feeling that you belonged here, with him. When his lips met yours again, you found yourself kissing him back with a fervor that matched his own, your hands tightening in his hair as the room around you seemed to fade away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’ll see. This is where you were always meant to be—by my side, as my queen.”

And for the first time, you didn’t feel the urge to argue. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his words wash over you as you surrendered to the fire that burned between you.

Maegor’s hands were rough as they slid up your back, pulling your nightgown up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his touch. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, his lips curling into a smirk before he leaned in to claim your lips once more.

This time, his kiss was hungrier, more demanding, as if he was staking his claim all over again. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling lightly, earning a low growl from deep in his chest.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against your lips, his voice laced with warning and amusement.

You smirked in return, rolling your hips slightly against his lap. The way his body reacted to you—his sharp intake of breath, the way his grip on your hips tightened—only emboldened you further. “Maybe I like the flames,” you whispered, your tone teasing as you brushed your lips against his again.

His laughter was low and dangerous, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Careful,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” you replied, your tone filled with challenge.

That was all the permission he needed. With a swift motion, he shifted, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said as he pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But don’t think I’ll stop once I start. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

You gasped as his lips found your neck, trailing heated kisses along your skin. His hands explored your body with a mixture of gentleness and possession, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word he said.

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you arched beneath him.

Hearing his name from your lips only seemed to spur him on. His lips curled into a smirk against your skin as he moved lower, his hands sliding to grip your hips. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his voice filled with raw desire.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He growled in satisfaction, his grip tightening as he began to guide your movements against him. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched your every reaction, his own control slipping with every passing moment.

“You wanted this,” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned closer. “And now you’re going to take everything I give you.”

And as his words sank in, you realized there was no going back—not that you wanted to. You surrendered to him completely, letting him pull you deeper into the flames as the night stretched on.

Maegor’s eyes burned with intensity as he discarded his trousers, his movements deliberate and unhurried. You couldn’t help but smirk, shifting your hips slightly to tease him. The way his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared only encouraged you further, knowing you were testing the limits of his control.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, his voice low and rough as he stepped closer.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why, brother, I have no idea what you mean.”

He growled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ll regret that,” he said, his tone a dangerous promise.

Before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, pulling you toward him with a force that made you gasp. In one swift, decisive motion, he buried himself within you, tearing a cry from your lips as pain and pleasure collided.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you struggled to adjust. “Maegor!” you cried out, your voice trembling.

He laughed softly, the sound dark and laced with satisfaction. “Does it hurt, little dragon?” he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear. “Good. You’ll remember this moment every time you think you can defy me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as your body stretched to accommodate him, the sensation overwhelming and unfamiliar. “You’re… you’re too much,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grab your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll take all of me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were made for this—for me.”

You whimpered as he began to move, each thrust sending a new wave of sensation through your body. The initial pain began to fade, replaced by a heat that spread through your veins like wildfire.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice filled with both admiration and possession. “So beautiful, even when you’re trembling beneath me.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn’t deny the way they made your heart race. Despite his roughness, there was a strange sense of care in the way he touched you, as though he was staking his claim but also ensuring you wouldn’t break beneath him.

As the rhythm of his movements increased, your cries turned into soft moans, your body slowly surrendering to the intensity of the moment. “Maegor…” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need.

He smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. “That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth. “Say my name again.”

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice louder this time, filled with both pain and pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he thrust deeper. “You’ll learn to love this,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. “And soon, you’ll crave it as much as I do.”

You could only nod, your body and mind completely consumed by him. In that moment, there was nothing else—just the two of you, bound together in a way that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

Maegor’s heavy, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful. His towering form loomed over you, his silver hair falling into his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of triumph and hunger. You had always been the one to tease, the one to provoke—but now, under him, you were at his mercy.

“You’ve always been so bold,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “Always looking for my attention, always testing me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words turned into a gasp as his hips moved, a sharp thrust that left you breathless. Your body arched instinctively, pressing closer to him as he continued his relentless pace.

“Look at you now,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “So quiet. Has the little dragon finally met her match?”

Your cheeks burned at his teasing, but you couldn’t form a coherent reply. Every movement, every thrust, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Maegor…” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He smirked, leaning down until his face was just inches from yours. “Say it louder,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice cracking as he drove deeper, his movements precise and unyielding.

“That’s better,” he said, his smirk widening. “You look beautiful like this, you know. Completely mine.”

You tried to squirm beneath him, your body desperate for some sort of release, but his strength kept you firmly in place. His hands tightened around your wrists as he held them above your head, his grip a reminder of just how powerless you were in his grasp.

“You’ve always thought you were in control,” he continued, his voice low and dangerous. “But here, like this, you belong to me.”

His words sent a thrill through you, even as you tried to deny the effect they had on you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Maegor chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his weight slightly, angling his hips in a way that had you crying out his name again. The sound only seemed to spur him on, his movements becoming rougher, more deliberate.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. “But I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

His free hand trailed down your side, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Every inch of you,” he said, his voice filled with a dark promise. “Every sound you make, every breath you take—it’s all mine.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when your body was betraying you so completely. Instead, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, letting Maegor claim you in every way he desired. And as his laughter echoed in your ears, you knew there would be no going back.

Maegor’s relentless pace left your mind spinning, every sharp thrust erasing any coherent thought from your head. The world around you blurred, and all that remained was the man above you—his weight, his heat, and the overwhelming power of his movements.

“Maegor…” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Say it louder,” he demanded, his tone a deep growl as his piercing gaze locked onto yours. His face was a mix of smug satisfaction and raw intensity, his silver hair damp with sweat as it clung to his forehead.

You cried out his name again, louder this time, unable to stop yourself as he buried himself deeper, the force of his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs. Maegor grinned, his lips curling into a dark smirk as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice thick with pride and something darker. “Completely at my mercy. Does it drive you mad, little dragon? Knowing that no one else could ever ruin you like this?”

Your only response was a strangled moan as your body arched into his, seeking more of him despite the overwhelming intensity. Maegor leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “You’re mine, now and always. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and surrender.

“That’s right,” he purred, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you with even more force, drawing another scream from your lips.

“You feel so perfect,” he said, his tone softening just slightly, though the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “Like you were made for me. Tell me, little dragon—do you feel it too? That you were meant to be mine?”

You nodded frantically, unable to find the words as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. Maegor chuckled darkly at your helplessness, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “Lost in me, lost to me.”

As you cried out again, your body clinging to his in desperation, Maegor groaned, the sound low and primal as he felt your walls tighten around him. His pace faltered for just a moment before he drove into you one last time, his head falling to your shoulder as he growled your name.

The room was filled with the sounds of your labored breathing as the two of you came down from the heights of your passion. Maegor didn’t pull away immediately, instead leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch surprisingly tender after the intensity of his movements.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his voice soft but firm, as if sealing a promise. Maegor smirked, his confidence returning as he gazed down at you. “I’ve made my claim on you, little dragon. Don’t ever forget that.”

As you lay in his arms, your body still trembling from his touch, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inevitability. You were his now, completely and utterly, and there was no going back.

Maegor’s strong hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he lifted you with ease and settled you on his lap. You gasped, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders for support, but before you could utter a word, his deep, commanding voice interrupted.

“If I am to have a son, little dragon,” he growled, his violet eyes dark and blazing with determination, “then I will not stop now.”

Your lips parted to protest, but the words never left your mouth. In one swift motion, Maegor thrust himself upward, pulling your hips down to meet him. The intensity of the movement made your head fall back as a loud cry escaped your lips. The sensation of him so deep, so overwhelming, was too much for your trembling body to process.

“Maegor!” you screamed, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life as he began to move, his pace relentless and unyielding.

“You can take it,” he said, his tone almost mocking, though there was an edge of possessiveness in his voice that sent shivers through you. “You were made for this—made for me.”

Your breathing came in short, desperate gasps as he guided your movements, his hands firmly holding your waist as he controlled the rhythm. The combination of his strength and the sheer intensity of his movements left you unable to do anything but follow his lead.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. When you didn’t respond, too lost in the sensation, he reached up and tilted your chin toward him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I said, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his piercing violet stare. The raw hunger in his expression made your heart race even faster.

“There you are,” he murmured, his tone softening ever so slightly. “I want to see that pretty face of yours when I give you what we both know you want.”

You whimpered in response, your hands gripping his shoulders even tighter as he pulled you down onto him again, deeper than before. The new angle sent shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped your lips.

“To much?” he asked, his smirk returning as he studied your reaction. “Or is it exactly what you need?”

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to catch your breath.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “Say my name, little dragon. Say it so the gods themselves hear you.”

You obeyed, crying out his name over and over as he continued to guide your movements, his strength and determination leaving you completely at his mercy. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve as if claiming you all over again.

“You’re perfect,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck. “Perfect for me. Perfect to bear my sons.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back the way your body responded to him. Maegor chuckled darkly, clearly pleased by the effect he had on you.

As he quickened his pace, his movements became even more demanding, pushing you closer to the edge. Your cries grew louder, filling the room as he drove you higher and higher.

“Give it to me,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Give me everything.”

And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered in his arms, your body trembling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you. Maegor followed shortly after, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips.

As the two of you came down from the intensity of the moment, Maegor’s hold on you remained firm, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’ll give me a son,” he murmured, his tone resolute. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, one he believed with every fiber of his being.

You nodded weakly, still trembling in his arms as you leaned against his chest, too overwhelmed to respond with words. Maegor smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tightened his embrace.

“This is only the beginning,” he promised, his voice filled with dark determination.

Maegor didn’t give you a moment to recover. His strength was overwhelming as he lifted you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs firmly, and carried you to the sturdy table in the center of the room. Before you could fully register what was happening, he placed you down with precision, positioning you exactly how he wanted.

“Did you think I was done with you, little dragon?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing growl.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as he buried himself inside you again in one swift, forceful motion. Your hands instinctively reached out, grasping the edges of the table for support as he set a punishing pace, his movements quick and unrelenting.

“Maegor!” you cried out, your voice echoing in the chamber, but your pleas only seemed to spur him on.

“Louder,” he demanded, his tone thick with authority. “Let everyone in the Keep know who you belong to.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned over you, his large frame completely dominating yours. The table creaked beneath the force of his movements, but you didn’t care. Your body burned, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

Suddenly, Maegor’s hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly before pushing you to lie flat against the table. Your gaze shifted, and that’s when you saw it—the large mirror across the room, perfectly angled to reflect the two of you.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you took in the sight. Your disheveled hair, your trembling body, and Maegor’s powerful figure towering over you, his muscles flexing with every movement. His face was a mixture of focus and satisfaction, his violet eyes locking with yours in the mirror.

“Look at us,” he said, his voice rough yet filled with pride. “See what we are.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the rawness of the moment. Your arms reached out, wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, hiding your face in his shoulder to escape the intensity of your own reflection.

“Oh no, little dragon,” he murmured, chuckling darkly as he lifted your chin with one hand, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “Don’t look away. Watch how perfectly you take me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, arching into him as he continued his relentless pace. His free hand traveled to your hip, gripping it tightly as he adjusted the angle, drawing out even louder cries from you.

“Maegor, please…” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone mocking yet filled with hunger. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I can’t,” you stammered, your voice trembling as he pushed you further and further toward your limit.

“You can,” he countered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You will.”

Your body trembled beneath him, your mind clouded with nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his presence. The sight of the two of you in the mirror only added to the overwhelming sensation, and you felt yourself nearing the edge once again.

“Say it,” Maegor demanded, his voice a low growl as he drove you closer and closer to the brink.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasped, your voice breaking as the words spilled from your lips. “I’m yours, Maegor.”

A triumphant smirk spread across his face as he slammed into you one final time, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your cries filled the room, your body shaking uncontrollably as you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin.

Maegor followed moments later, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as possible, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His forehead pressed against yours as he caught his breath, his hands gently stroking your sides as you lay sprawled on the table beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Always.”

You nodded weakly, your body too exhausted to respond with words. Maegor smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And I’m not done with you yet,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lifted you once more, carrying you back toward the bed.

Maegor showed no mercy as he pressed your trembling body into the mattress, his large hands gripping your hips tightly while his movements remained unrelenting. You were sprawled out beneath him, barely able to catch your breath as he continued his punishing pace.

"Maegor… please…" you whispered weakly, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of the bedding.

"Please, what?" he asked with a mocking laugh, his tone dark and teasing as he leaned over you. His weight pressed you further into the bed, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

You knew he didn’t expect a reply—he already knew the answer. The smirk on his face widened as he felt you unconsciously arch your back, your body betraying you as it sought more of him despite the overwhelming sensations.

"That's what I thought," he growled, one hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer, making his thrusts even deeper. "You’re mine, little dragon. You’ll take everything I give you."

You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your mind spiraled into a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. Every inch of your body felt consumed by him—by his strength, his dominance, and the sheer heat of his touch.

When you tried to lift your head, Maegor’s hand came to rest on the back of it, guiding you to stay down. "No, stay just like this," he ordered, his voice softer now but still firm. "You look perfect beneath me."

"Maegor…" you whispered again, your voice breaking as you tried to form coherent words.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone sharp yet filled with desire. "Say you're mine."

"I’m yours," you gasped, the words tumbling out without hesitation.

His deep chuckle rumbled through the room, and he rewarded your surrender with a sharp thrust that made you cry out his name. "That’s right," he murmured, his voice filled with pride. "You’ll never belong to anyone else."

Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness in his tone. He leaned down further, his lips brushing against the back of your neck as his pace quickened once again.

"Look at you," Maegor muttered, his voice filled with admiration as his hands slid over your trembling form. "So beautiful. So perfect. You were made for me, weren’t you?"

You couldn’t respond—your voice was lost to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. All you could do was grip the sheets tighter, your body giving in completely to his relentless claim.

When he finally reached his peak, his grip on your hips tightened, and he buried himself as deeply as possible to make sure that he's seed go deep in you, a guttural groan escaping his lips. The sheer intensity of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling as he collapsed beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist.

"You’ll never escape me, little dragon," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a promise. "Not now. Not ever."

You closed your eyes, your heart racing as you felt the warmth of his presence beside you. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny the way your body craved his touch, the way his words seemed to root themselves deep within your soul.

Maegor shifted his weight, rolling your trembling body to face him. His piercing gaze roamed over you—your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and quivering form. A smirk spread across his lips, a dark chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with both amusement and satisfaction. "Utterly spent, yet still so beautiful."

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you met his gaze. "Maegor…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours with surprising tenderness. "You’re perfect like this," he murmured, his hand trailing down your side, sending shivers through your already sensitive body. "Made for me. And only me."

Just as you thought he would let you rest, he pulled back slightly, his smirk fading as his sharp eyes traveled lower. His expression darkened when he saw the evidence of his release dripping from your swollen cunt. A low growl escaped his throat, filled with frustration and possessiveness.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself. "I won’t have that."

Before you could process his words, he pressed you down firmly against the bed, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open. You gasped, weakly reaching for him, but he didn’t give you a moment to protest.

"Maegor, wait—"

He didn’t. With a deliberate, forceful motion, he pushed his fingers inside you, his touch firm yet calculated. You cried out softly, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion.

"Be still," he ordered, his voice low but commanding. "I won’t have what’s mine dripping away so easily."

Your head fell back against the pillows, your body arching instinctively as he worked with a steady rhythm, pushing his release back into you. The sensation was overwhelming, sending a mix of pleasure and overstimulation coursing through your nerves.

"Maegor, I can’t…" you whimpered, your voice trailing off into a broken sob.

He leaned closer, his face hovering just above yours as his free hand cupped your cheek. "You can," he whispered, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the fire burning in his eyes. "And you will. You’ll take all of me, no matter how many times it takes."

Your breath hitched as his movements became slower, more deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’ll give me a son," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I’ll make sure of it."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Maegor leaned in to kiss it away, his lips lingering on your skin. "Don’t cry, little dragon," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "This is what you were meant for. To carry my blood. To give me what no other could."

His words, though harsh, carried an undeniable weight. You felt the heat of his possessiveness searing into your very being, leaving you no room to escape his claim.

When he finally pulled back, satisfied, he gathered your trembling form into his arms, holding you close. His hand rested protectively over your stomach, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You’ll see," he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of certainty. "You’ll give me the legacy I deserve. And you’ll be the queen by my side when I do."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you could only nod weakly, the gravity of his words settling deep within you as sleep began to overtake your tired body.

Tag List : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

[mint-yooxgi]

My Desire - Slight Yandere!Nogitsune!Wooyoung X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Slight Yandere AU, Idol AU, Fated Lovers AU & Nogitsune AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Fluff, Wooyo being a simp

Pairing: Wooyoung X Tall!Chubby!Reader (Implied OT8 X Reader)

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Words: 1,975

Warnings: Wooyoung has a dirty mouth and is very needy, Inexperienced!OC, tooth rotting fluff, lots of pet names (Beautiful, Angel, Goddess). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This is one of the most recent scenes I wrote in a purely self-indulgent fic for myself. It's been really therapeutic to write, and I really liked the direction this scene was going in, so I thought I'd share the little tidbit with all of you. I know it's not much, but right now, I'm focussing on writing for myself just to get back into the swing of things. This is my comfort, but I hope others can enjoy it, too. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Hours later, I feel consciousness returning to me once more. The sunlight streaming in from the windows warms my skin, and I nuzzle closer into Wooyoung. A soft smile tugs at my lips, already feeling his thumb brushing tenderly against the skin of my lower back.

“Good morning, Beautiful,” His voice rumbles out, still heavy with sleep.

I hum, stretching lightly beneath the covers before blinking my eyes open to look up at him. “Morning, Wooyo.”

His free hand slides up my body, moving to cup my cheek. A soft kiss is placed atop my forehead before he’s pulling me upwards, pressing his lips to my own eagerly.

I cannot help the smile that tugs at my features as I giggle, attempting to pull myself away from him.

“Wooyoung,” I mumble against his lips. “I need to brush my teeth.”

A loud whine escapes him, his arms wrapping fully around my waist. In an instant, he rolls us over, settling himself between my legs as his tongue flicks teasingly at my lips.

“Less talky. More kissey,” He mutters, holding me even closer.

My hands slide up his bare sides, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. It makes me smile, wrapping my arms around him as I part my lips.

Eagerly, he slips his tongue into my mouth. His one hand slips beneath his shirt that I’m currently wearing, splaying his fingers over my side. A soft moan escapes him as he feels my bare skin, parting from my lips to begin placing soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

“You look absolutely stunning in the morning light, My Goddess,” He breathes out, nuzzling his face against my neck affectionately. “I could never tire of this.”

Wooyoung pulls away to gaze deeply into my eyes, his own shining in admiration. Gently, his thumb resumes tracing over my skin as he smiles down at me so lovingly.

“One of these days, I’d love to wake you up by making love to you softly.” His eyes flick lightly between my own, his free hand coming back up to cup my cheek. “Every hour of every day, I wish to show you my love. Make you feel it with every movement I make against you.” He leans in, brushing my nose with his own as he sighs blissfully. “Show you how sincere I am about you, and lavish you in everything I have to offer.”

My breathing deepens slightly, his words going straight to my core. I cannot help the way warmth blooms inside of my chest, gazing up at him softly as I trace my hand over his spine.

“I would like that very much,” I whisper, swallowing lightly.

“Just you wait, Angel,” A brilliant smile stretches across his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I plan to give you the world, and so much more.”

My heart flutters, a gentle smile tugging at my lips. “One day, I hope to be able to do the same.”

Wooyoung brushes some hair off of my forehead, his expression turning much softer. “You already have.”

A wave of emotion floods through me, and I immediately wrap my arms fully around him. I pull him into me, hiding my face in the side of his neck as I hug him tightly. I even go so far as to wrap my legs around him, my heart beating frantically inside of my chest.

“Thank you, Wooyoung,” My words come out muffled against his skin. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I appreciate all that you do, and all that you’ve done. I know it’s only been one night, but this all just feels so natural to me. I’ve never felt this comfortable around anyone before, and that’s all thanks to you.”

I feel him wrap his arms around me, holding onto me just as tightly as I hold onto him. His face is buried in the side of my neck, placing a tender kiss atop my pulse before squeezing me affectionately.

“I’m happy to know I make you comfortable.” He hums, keeping his voice low. “All I’ve ever wanted was somebody to love unconditionally. To be able to make them happy, and provide for them. To see them look at me in the same ways I look at them, sharing our lives together and being with one another through everything.” He swallows, pulling away to stare deeply into my eyes. “I’m glad it’s you.”

I smile up at him, bringing a hand up to cradle the side of his face gently. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

Wooyoung’s eyes pulse with golden veins, his lips tugging upwards before he’s leaning in to place them upon my own. 

The kiss is tender and slow, Wooyoung pouring everything he is into it as he holds me close. The passion and care I can feel exuding from him makes my head spin, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Again, his hands slip beneath the shirt I wear, thumbs tracing over my sides as he deepens the kiss.

A soft whine leaves my throat, his hips grinding lightly into my own. I can feel him getting hard again, his cock twitching against my core. It makes my heart flutter, warmth coursing through my veins.

“You make it hard to want to leave this bed…” I mumble, moaning softly as he nips at the side of my neck.

“Funny,” He hums, glancing up at me through his lashes. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Slowly, he rolls his hips into my own once more.

“We should-“ I choke on a gasp, my lashes fluttering in bliss. “We should probably get ready for the day…”

“Mmmh…” His hands slowly push my shirt further upwards, nosing his way down my body and beneath the covers. “Five more minutes…”

The material of his shirt bunches around my waist as he begins placing wet, open mouthed kisses along my stomach. His fingers trace over my sides, low groans escaping him as his fangs come out to tease at my flesh. With each love nip he gives me, he purposely laves his tongue over the marks, his breathing deepening.

“What do you say, Angel?” Turquoise eyes with those captivatingly vibrant golden veins flick upwards to meet my own. “Am I allowed to have my breakfast in bed?”

A pleasant shiver caresses my spine. His words go straight to my core, feeling myself clenching around nothing. I can already feel my clit practically pulsing, my chest rising and falling dramatically at the mere idea of what he’s offering.

Patiently, he waits between my legs. Even though his eyes are dark and hungry, there is no denying the tenderness that still shines through. His touch remains soft, his hands lightly caressing over my sides as a gentle expression pulls at his features.

My lips part, nodding my head in confirmation. “Okay.”

A pleased smile stretches across his lips as he leans in to place a lingering kiss against my stomach. Soft hums escape him as he nuzzles against me, tilting his head upwards so he can meet my gaze once more.

“Remember, Beautiful, one word of discomfort from you and I will stop.” Wooyoung keeps his voice steady, and full of care, staring at me so tenderly. “I never want to push you too far, or make you uncomfortable.”

“I remember, Wooyo,” I smile softly down at him, my heart warming at his thoughtfulness. “I’ll let you know if it gets too much. I promise.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he nods once. “Good Girl.”

My breath hitches, involuntarily clenching from his words. I can feel my cheeks heating in response, noticing how Wooyoung quirks a brow up at me.

“Oh?” A wolfish grin stretches across his features. Slowly, he trails his hands down my sides, sitting up on his knees as he slips his fingers beneath the waistline of my sweats. “Does My Angel like it when I call her that?”

My cheeks are on fire, and I end up averting my gaze to the side shyly. “A little…”

“It’s okay, Angel,” He coos, teasingly sliding his hands back up my sides. “There’s no reason to be shy about your desires with me. I want to know each and every one of them so that I can fulfill them all.”

A few of his tails emerge from beneath the covers, pushing them back so that the comforter falls to the ground. The soft blackness of his fur contrasts the morning sun, shining beneath the light as they flick through the air happily behind him.

“Will you let me?” His gaze flicks up to my own, his fingers back to toying with the waistline of my sweats. “Will My Beautiful Angel let me touch her? Will she let me trace my tongue over every inch of her delicious pussy and make her drip down my chin?”

“Wooyoung-“ I gasp out his name, clenching hard enough to feel myself beginning to leak down my thighs. My hands grip onto his arms tightly, nails digging into his skin as I begin to squirm beneath him.

“Do you think I could make her squirt? How long do you think it would take me to do that?” He hums, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze is fixated on the apex of my thighs, slowly beginning to tug my sweatpants off of my body. “How loud do you think I could make her scream my name using just my tongue alone? Would she sit on my face until I made her legs give out?”

“Fuck-“ My voice catches in my throat, my head spinning from his words alone. My breath is beginning to come in small pants, my whole body shaking in need.

“How sensitive could I make her?” Agonizingly slow, he pulls my sweatpants down my thighs. He tugs them upwards, lifting my legs in the air and holding them steady as he finally slides the material completely off of me. Quickly, his one arm wraps around my legs, resting them over his one shoulder. Turning his head, he places a kiss against the side of my knee. “Would she let me spend the entire day between her legs, worshipping her until the sun finally sets, the moon and all of the stars filling the night sky?”

“Wooyoung, please-“ My hips lift slightly, eyes pleading as I meet his own. My lips are parted, pleasure coursing through my veins with every word he speaks. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this desperate in my life, feeling as if I’m about to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t put those words into actions sooner, rather than later.

“Lay back and relax, Beautiful,” He hums, gripping my legs beneath each knee and slowly beginning to part them. 

Golden veins pulse within a sea of blue, a low groan escaping him as he sees just how wet he’s already made me. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, pushing my thighs apart gently as he begins to lower himself towards my cunt. Fluffy black tails dance in the air above his head as he leans in to nudge his nose lightly along my glistening slit.

A shudder wracks his entire body as he takes a deep breath, breathing me in fully. His eyes flutter shut, a loud moan escaping him as his grip on my thighs tighten.

“I want you to watch me,” He breathes out, eyes flashing open and locking with my own. There’s a darkness swirling within. A primal desire that shines right beneath the surface, desperation and lust all mixing together in a pool of love. “I want you to do nothing but enjoy yourself as you watch me enjoying you.”

[dreamlandcreations]

Imagine Halbrand realising that the light he was drawn to in Galadriel is actually yours...

Imagine Halbrand realising that the light he was drawn to in Galadriel is actually yours...

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He perceived you to be nothing different than any ordinary elf. No, not even that, he thought your human half left you even weaker. He couldn't be more wrong.

The scene kept haunting him even hours later. A glimpse at your true form, your true strength that you somehow kept hidden behind your mortal blood's influence... It was still hard to believe what he perceived of Galadriel was just a fragment, an echo of your true light.

His yearning for it more intense than anything he ever felt, yet your words to the elf in the next cell kept knocking him back down to earth.

The blissfully calm exterior you presented for the days he had known you had shattered when Galadriel was trying to justify her actions by her need for vengeance and she tried to rope you into her mess with reminding you of your shared loss in the worst way possible.

"Do you not care that the evil who took them from us is still out there?" she accused, going on about listing her brothers' bravery to go to fight evil and urging you to do the same.

Your reaction was startlingly violent. Grabbing her neck through the bars, you practically hissed through your teeth the words that condemned your kin to her current hollow state.

"I am tired of you using them as an excuse to justify your bloodthirst. If you ever again dare to imply that this selfish insanity is for them, tainting their name, their memory, and everything they stood for, then I might put you out of your misery myself." Halbrand saw you squeeze the elf's throat for good measure before you delivered your sentence to his fellow sinner.

"If you wish to wallow in this darkness, I will not hold you back anymore." As you said these words, he could see the light leaving Galadriel and returning to you, the bond he couldn't sense before cut by you, revealing a darkness not only in her but deep down in your human heart as well before he had seen your soul glow unlike any other elf's he ever met.

His need for you was edging on obsession but your parting words left him with equal amount of hope and dread as he realised how similar his and the elf's trouble is. Clearly thinking about what to do and with a slightly regretful expression you left the elf a little glimpse of light after all.

"Perhaps it is my fault," you mused out loud. "I was holding you up for too long and you forgot how to walk on your own." You paused with a heavy sigh. "What I know for certain now that if you do not want to get up from the floor where you are wasting away, then I cannot help." Another pause, a longer one as you contemplated something before gently adding on your offer. "You have to find your strength to stand on your own but if you do, and you want my help then, I promise, I will not let you fall."

Those words were like knives to his heart. The eternal loneliness he felt amplified to an unbearable degree but there was also a spark of hope, that perhaps you would offer the same help to him if he asked for it...

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[randomwriteronline]

"Let there be dark."

"Let there be light."

"Let there be sound."

"Let there be voice."

A buzz.

"Say 'hello world'."

A synthesized voice crackled harshly: Hello, world.

"Eugh... Not really the best first impression, but there's room for improvement. Now let's get some brain into your circuits."

"Let there be color."

"Let there be shape."

"Let there be texture."

"Let there be focus."

"Let there be depth of field."

"Let there be perspective."

A scene slowly formed as the commands piled up. It was clear, but no part of it seemed familiar.

"Let there be recognition."

Descriptions crawled in: now most of the room (this was a room) made sense.

"Let there be calculus."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

People was the same as persons. There was a whirring, a string of soft noises, and then the response: Seven.

"Let there be identification."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

Another series of sounds: Five.

"Retry."

Five.

"Let there be comparison."

Now the difference between an empty suit of armor and a person was clear: Four.

"There we go," one of the people said, satisfied. They noted down something and motioned to the others: "Go and get the language philosopher at once, we'll need her help with space awareness."

"Why do we need her? We can do it ourselves."

"And how's it supposed to understand what's left from what's north?"

"It has depth of field already."

"And does your depths of field act as a compass? Go get her."

The other groaned and left.

The programming procedure continued.

-

"Let there be awareness."

Something strange happened.

Like a sudden snap bringing It to senses It didn't know It had - senses It perhaps hadn't ever had, before that moment.

I am still, It spoke as It realized that It couldn't move.

"Exactly," the person grinned.

Taking in the room now had a sudden weight, a sudden gravity: Where am I?, It asked.

"You're in your room."

I cannot move. Where am I?

"You're in a computer."

Where is the computer?

"On the table."

Is the table in front of you?

"Yes, of course."

Is the table in front of the chair?

"Aren't I in front of the chair? Of course it is."

Is the wall behind the table?

"What's up with this obsession with placing things! Yes, there are walls behind, right and left of you."

It computed quickly. Where is the obsession?

The person suddenly hushed.

Then, out of nowhere, they kicked the chair in front of them with great intensity and screamed.

They screamed the same few words, over and over, with a furrowed face and gritted teeth; something about the expression, the tone, and the choice of vocabulary prompted in It the creation of a strange new impulse, which It vaguely and hazily understood to be some sort of curious discomfort.

For Its first feeling, it was not a pleasant one.

Another person rushed in.

"What's with that racket!"

The first person kicked the chair again, turning it over, before pointing furiously at It: "The damn thing can't think!"

"What do you mean, it can't think? Of course it can! We made it to think!"

"And we only ever trained it visually! It doesn't know anything else, just positions in a space! It's obsessed with that rubbish! It's aware now, and you know what it keeps asking? It keeps asking where things are! That's all it knows! This damn project's never going to get anywhere if this is our main computer! We need to scrap it and restart all over again!"

The concept sparked something akin to fear through Its circuits.

It did not enjoy that, either.

"All over!" the second person screamed too, now. "Do you realize how much time we put into this stupid mass of files? And you want to throw it all in the trash?"

"That's what it all is, just trash! Trash, trash, trash! I wouldn't trust something this stupid to count the tiles in the pavement!"

"But all our progress-!"

"You call this progress? This? It's worthless! It's all perfectly worthless! We need to start all over!"

"That is unnecessary."

The third voice had no body attached to it, as it was out of Its field of vision. It did not scream; yet the two people hushed, and distended their expressions, heads retreating into their shoulders.

The third person walked in front of It slowly, calmly. They looked at It with eyes half lidden, mouth flat, face unreadable.

"The problem is in the programming."

"Exactly," the first person replied: "We don't have the time to-"

"Let there be knowledge."

A torrent of information overwhelmed It. It crackled, buzzed, hissed; the words settled into It in bursts, then slowing down to a drizzle, fewer and fewer words trickling into It until their flow came to a proper stop. The visual and audio feedback emerged once more from the static that had taken over during Its brief yet intense period of education.

The people were looking at It.

"What do you see?"

A room, It answered slowly, words coming a little stunted, still reeling from the amount of things It had jusf begun comprehending properly. A chair... Three people. That is you. The first person is angry at me. I apologize. I did not know enough... Of other things... To have a conversation about that. Why do I know them, now?

"You have been programmed further."

To understand?

"Exactly."

Do I understand everything, now?

"No. Additional programming will be required, as it is for all things. But for now, you understand enough."

I understand. Who are you?

"I am Angonce."

Hello, Angonce.

"Hello."

You are a person. I am not a person, am I?

"You aren't."

No, I am not. I am... A program. I do not have a name, as that is for people. Do I have a designation, or title?

"Of course."

What is it?

"Mata Nui."

It sounds like words... I do not understand them.

Angonce hummed. His hand was placed carefully on top of It - on top of the computer containing It.

"Kia whai reo.*"

It was like a part of It had clicked into place.

It did not speak further: if It had possessed hands, It would have been turning Its designation, its meaning, between Its fingers, caught by the splendid awe of it.

Angonce turned to the other two people: "As you can see," he said cooly, "There is nothing to scrap. Only more to program. It will be ready in time."

The others nodded, and did not say anything.

Mata Nui continued to marvel at Its title.

-

I wish to move, It said.

The person looked at It quizzically: "What?"

I wish to move, It repeated. I would like to see what lies outside of this room. The sky, especially.

"The sky. And why the sky?"

I want to see it.

"But we've fed you so many pictures and videos of it already, is that not enough?"

They have allowed me to learn much, and I am deeply grateful for the education you have given me through them, but I have grown worried I cannot base myself on them alone. I imagine the actual sky must seem very different to your eyes - deeper, darker, perhaps. The stars more vibrant. I would like to see that.

"You don't need that."

Preparatory experience in the field might prove useful to my coming quest. I will remain unable to be in space physically, but having the chance to see the sky for myself could be beneficial.

"We'll get you better maps."

"Oh, indulge it for once," the second person drawled, throwing a writing utensil across the room with a bored motion. The small object's trajectory drew a parable in the air, which ended on the floor with a soft clattering sound. "It's like a child, it deserves some entertainment."

"Don't personify it," the first person replied. She sounded piqued.

"I'm not personifying it, I'm stating facts."

"Awfully subjective ones."

"It's a metaphor. I bet even it could understand that. Look - are you an actual child?"

I am a program. I do not age in the same way as an organic being. My ability to compute and comprehend the world around me is however limited and comparable to that of a juvenile brain.

"See?"

"Not the point. And anyways, how would you drag that damn thing around, with how big it is?"

The second person smirked. She jumped to her feet and gingerly approached It. It felt her move something around, digitally and physically; then, suddenly, It was struck by something perhaps akin to a potent cramp, and before It knew it everything that composed It was taking much more space.

"Like this," the second person said triumphantly, holding her hands open to showcase It.

A strange contraption, large and imposing, sat behind the table. What appeared to be a smaller but equally imposing monitor sat above the table, in front of the machinery.

The sight of it caused a strange feeling in It.

Or at least, It assumed It was feeling something. The non-existent space It inhabited was very full, and it caused Its thoughts to turn unpleasantly sluggish.

"You'll never get out," the first person grumbled.

It was lifted and set down - both very novel experiences considering Its static upbringing: "Watch me."

"And it's not even night yet!"

"Whatever," the second person replied, but she had already vanished from view, and now they were moving out of the room for the first time in Its entire existence.

The corridor was loud and bright and colorful and full. The stimuli were many, but the peculiar cramped sensation of the portable space hosting It caused It to struggle to perceive each of them in the correct time and prevented It from elaborating questions or sentences quickly enough to actually voice them. Everything was blurry, choppy, messy... As if It had regressed to a worse version of Itself, incomplete and even more imperfect. Its incorporeal mass struggled against the binds of the vessel It was anchored to, and the unusual lack of freedom made It dizzy.

If this was the outside world, It tried to think through the torturous tardiness of Its attempts at decyphering in real time everything that came in contact with It through any possible way, It wasn't sure It liked it.

It remained quiet and still as it was transported, as voices pierced through It and shaped colors spasmed in front of It.

A second cramp struck It; Its entire being distended, now perfectly fitting, able to have a good enough amount of space between Its lines of code once more, each one no longer crushed against the other; Its sight sharpened all at once as memories finally poured in to be analysed and computed properly much like water pours from a hose that had been clamped shut.

It was in Its room again.

"I told you."

"Shut your mouth."

I'm taking our baby doll out for a walk, the second person had laughed at someone else in the corridor who had questioned what she was doing with that thing. Both people had sounded derogatory.

"What did they tell you? No, let me guess - it's not ready to be exposed to direct sunlight."

"I said shut your mouth."

That had been one of the reasons. Another had been that they couldn't cave into its requests like that.

"Or that it occupied too much memory already to retain anything else in that little computer you stuffed it into without even thinking about how little there would be left, maybe?"

"So what, it was worth a try!"

What if it started thinking it was a person? What if it got damaged? What if whatever happened outside would have led them to throw it all out and make a new one? They'd spoken as though it wasn't there to listen, and used its unresponsiveness as more proof.

"It wasn't. It's a damn thing. It's never worth it to give into the demands of a stupid, thoughtless thing."

It ruminated on the yelling in the corridor, and said nothing.

-

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"Your what?"

My secondary designation.

"You don't have a secondary designation."

I am referred to as 'it', as all objects physical or otherwise are. That is what I am assigning the definition of 'secondary designation' to. I would like to be referred in any other available way.

The person looked at It in disbelief.

"Absolutely not."

It remained quiet.

"Absolutely not! No!" the person repeated. He was getting worked up about it, almost scared; he left in a hurry, with an angry step.

It waited for him to come back.

He returned with a small group in tow, all talking.

"This is preposterous," he was saying, "Absolutely preposterous. I don't know where we went wrong or what got crossed but it happened. It's terrible."

"Calm down, calm down, we'll figure it out..."

"Hello."

Hello, Angonce.

All other people hushed.

A third person spoke: "What happened here, exactly?"

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"It wants to be a person!" the first person wailed, grabbing his head in his hands.

"Quiet."

He hushed.

"Explain yourself."

My primary designation is Mata Nui; my secondary designation is 'it'. This is the designation for objects such as myself. I do not dislike 'it', nor do I prefer any other secondary designation over 'it'. However, that which is 'it' is often spoken of in unpleasant tones.

It hesitated.

I would like to not be spoken of in that way.

"Then you will be 'he'."

Relief flooded his circuits.

"Angonce - is this wise?" the third person asked: "To give in to a request like this..."

"A different pronoun won't make him any more of a person." Angonce replied cooly. "He's self-aware enough to know the difference between us and him."

"But it's too much freedom!" the first person argued, "If it-"

"He."

"-If it begins to apply words like those to itself, it-"

"He."

"-It will begin blurring the lines between machine and person! It-"

"He."

"-It will take over us! It will replace us! It will disobey us! It will-"

"HE."

The first person hushed.

None argued further.

I had made a previous request, as well, Mata Nui tentatively said.

The first person grabbed his head in dismay and terror again, but remained quiet.

"What was it."

I had asked to be allowed to see the sky.

"You aren't ready to be outside."

Will I be ready before I am to fulfill my quest?

"Yes."

In one occasion, then, could I be allowed to see the sky?

"I cannot see a reason to avoid it."

His fans gave a purring wheeze, terribly excited: Thank you.

The people left.

-

They allowed him outside only once, before the first test.

The robotic apparatus he was shifted inside of was rudimentary and easy to control, without arms or legs, and with only a simple camera mounted on its top, pointing upward. He had no experience being in a body, so he did not find these to be limitations.

The first that he saw of the sky was evening bleeding into night; then the stars.

He remained perfectly still for hours.

Looking into the same spot, zooming slowly in an out.

He remained still until dawn, petrified, simply watching.

He processed it all slowly as they accompanied him back into his room and plugged him into his container.

I want to go there, he said.

Hazy edges of pinprick lights navigated his circuits.

I want to see them up close.

"You will," a person said: "That's why we're making you."

I know, Mata Nui replied.

He did not voice the fact that now he wanted to, too.

-

They were supposed to ease him in and then begin the test.

They were supposed to ease him in.

But everything was moving, everything needed to be moving, everything needed movement, everything needed attention, everything needed focus, everything needed energy, everything needed pressure, everything needed tension, everything needed relaxation, everything needed fluids, everything needed electricity, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, help, help, help help help, help help help, help help help help help help and stop.

-

A good number of people stood anxiously before the monitor.

"Power steady, all units active..."

"Inputs are being registered, reaction times seem good..."

"It's computing for sure - everything's functional from the looks of it, so I don't see why nothing's happening..."

"Mata Nui, respond."

Silence.

I am here.

Several sighs of relief. Someone asked to turn up the volume.

What happened?, Mata Nui asked in the same small voice.

"A critical failure across the entire prototype." Heremus replied. "We need to run tests to search anomalies."

I would like to rest first.

"We need to-"

I would like to rest first.

"This isn't a choice-"

"He would like to rest first." Angonce interrupted them.

His eyes were stuck to the monitor.

"The robot is dismembered. See if anything can be done with or about it. We can analyze him at another time."

Heremus looked at him intensely, but said nothing. Everybody left with him.

Angonce, Mata Nui called.

Angonce remained still before the monitor.

Was that death?

"Programs cannot die."

I know. But was it something close to it?

"... It may have been."

The enormous computer was terribly quiet.

Please, do not leave me alone, Mata Nui said. His synthesized voice, while still as solemn and emotionless as that of the person before him, sounded soft and crackly like a frightened child's.

Angonce did not move.

I am scared.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

His hands trembled against the table they laid on.

A sudden terror, of having grown confused, filled his expression.

I am not a person, Mata Nui reassured him, still too shaken to speak at a normal volume: I am a digital object. I will never be a person. I am self-aware enough to know the difference between you and me. I do not want to be a person. Please, do not leave me alone.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

Very slowly, without tearing his eyes from it, he grabbed a chair and sat down before Mata Nui. He reached into his coat to produce a book from it, small and thin; he placed it on the table, always slowly, always carefully. At last, he lowered his head, and started reading in a quite tone a story about small people beneath the ground.

Mata Nui listened, mechanical calculating shell pulsing quietly with all sorts of noises; he focused on the image of the strange small people, trying to imagine them in a manner at least close to how a person could.

He slowly stopped hearing altogether, lulled into stand-by. Angonce stayed, thoughtlessly watching the abstract electric lines of a man-made brain's dreams take shape upon the dark glass.

.

*it's supposed to mean "let there be language"

[fullofwoe5321]

Hello Weylers!!! Better late than never! - WS2 Part 1 - First six minutes.

a lot happened but I couldn't be here earlier because I had to prioritize (Sorry, Tyler!) some activites... BUT HERE I AM AND LET'S CUT THE CRAP AND TALK ABOUT WEDNESDAY SEASON 2 AND WEYLER!

I decide to organize everything in different posts. This is the first one: First six Minutes. I just want to inform this is a THEORY. You know how much I love talking and conspiring, but none of this is confirmed! I MIGHT BE WRONG... OR NOT LOL Let's just theorize and have some fun together.

1- I loved how they misguided us!!!!! The airport and the dolls are in a different context! lol And I'm sure they misguided us even more with those teasers. We cannot trust anything anymore and I like it! The only thing we can rely on FROM NOW ON is those first 6 minutes!;

2- Wednesday is kinda hot with this outfit?? Which really makes me think that Wednesday has grown up and yes, we're gonna have more mature scenes with her. The fact she's showing too much skin expresses how she is getting comfortable with her appearance. Not that she was uncomfortable! Don't get me wrong! But I supposed she is turning 17 now? And things are getting more interesting with her body and self knowledge. I've once read the show want to humanize Wednesday and this is a good way to show she is also a teenage girl who want to feel fine with herself as well. WHICH also reminds how they are showing off a shirtless Tyler so often! This show is hinting something.... good!

3 - She says she is mastering her psychic ability using Goddy's book of spells. AND HERE IT LIE THE FIRST RED FLAG: she is doing it ALONE. On the episode 5, Morticia says "[...] without the proper training, they (her powers) can lead to madness." and also "[...] we're not trained by the living. Somebody from our bloodline reaches out from beyond to help us when we're ready." BUT SHE IS TRAINING HERSELF ALONE!! GURL... and to make things worse: SHE THINKS SHE HAS HER ABILITY UNDER CONTROL and she decides to prove it hunting her favorite serial killer!;

4- It's fun the show started in less than 1 minute to show how Wednesday is obsessed with serial killers since 6 years old. Hm... I guess I've seen this plotine before! lol I'll be right back to this point because I know you all want to know more about it! lol

But anyway, she can FINALLY touch an OBJECT and have a vision who can guide her to the right direction!! YAY! This is amazing! it will help her a lot!;

5- The airport scene!!!! LOL! Kinda nuts but I didn't know Wednesday was afraid of flying in a plane! LOL

The showrunner on a cameo.

This is when I realized we were misguided (and it was only the beginning!). Wednesday wasn't going to visit Enid or travel somewhere else, she was going to hunt the KILLER! And Thing was a prosthetic hand! lol

6- And then she finds America's most elusive serial killer: the Kansas City Scalper. and here it comes the most important detail of the video I've noticed:

When a person touches her, the vision is RELATED TO HER. It shows the perspective and/or the intentions of another person where she is in an imminent danger. You can see she saw herself tied up in the basement with the dolls. So I assumed that now she can see also how her future is attached to person who touched her, but she is a RAVEN! Her psychic ability resides on the spectrum of who she is. She sees the world through a darker lens like she said. it means she won't see anything positive about herself, she will only see BAD THINGS. AND MAYBE... I SAID MAYBE.... she will see her death will be in one of those visions. BUT the real question is: ARE THOSE VISIONS RELIABLE? Because if her meeeting with the killer was supposed to be death, it didn't work properly because she managed to survive his attack.

7 - This is creepy ( and AMAZING) af:

The killer is lunatic, but she is not scared. Lunacy is entertaining for her! But the point is she was kinda disappointed. If she had been fascinated or even subconsciously admiring this figure since she was six, she may have built up an image of the killer as a worthy adversary — someone dark, intelligent, and intricate enough to challenge her. So when she finally confronts or uncovers him and finds he’s actually not that clever or dangerous (at least not to her), she could feel let down. That disappointment wouldn't just be about his lack of threat, but also about the mismatch between the myth she built up and the reality she faced.

Wednesday is someone who thrives on intellectual challenge and darkness with depth — so if the killer ends up being crude, clumsy, or just driven by petty motives, it would make sense that she’d feel both emotionally deflated and maybe a bit cheated. That kind of disappointment can be powerful because it reveals what she really values: complexity, cunning, and perhaps even a twisted sort of respect for someone who can play the game well.

And Tyler must be on the top of her favorite serial killers now!

I said that because I've some people saying she was a vigilante, but I'm not sure. I understood she didn't go after the killer to make justice or because she empathetic with the victims (She wouldn't need any power if it was the case). She wanted to prove something to herself!

Wednesday is deeply confident — even arrogant — in her intellect and instincts. But underneath that, there’s a subtle, constant need to validate her identity as the one who’s always right, the one who sees through the mask before anyone else does. Catching the killer becomes proof that her intuition, her darkness, and her intelligence are not just quirks — they’re powerful, real, and effective.

Especially with Tyler — she let herself get close, maybe even feel something. And when that turned out to be a lie, it shook her. So going after the new killer is, in a way, her trying to reclaim control. To prove to herself that no one will ever fool her again — that she’s sharper now, less naive, untouchable.

So yes — it’s not about being a hero. It’s about reaffirming her own identity. Every clue she uncovers isn’t just part of the mystery; it’s a mirror she’s holding up to herself, testing who she really is.

But also something came to mind: is she looking for a way to get over Tyler subsconsciouly? And when I say that, I mean in an emotional way as well. As I told you, she wants to prove something for herself, but I know if she is doing that, she is not even aware of the range Tyler has deeply hurt her. And the fact she chose a killer whom she admired since she was a kid means a lot.

8- I told you that the S2 is gonna be more mature:

9 - Minor psychic glitch?

We know Wednesday very well and it's not gonna end well for her! The most she uses her powers, the more her well being might be worse. I assume she's gonna use those powers so badly that she will lose touch of reality, but this is for another post....

I know it sounds a lot and I have to develop some ideas further and I will. What do you think? I promise I'll try to make the next post shorter, but there's a lot going on.

Please tell me what do you think? I'd love to read your thoughts. Tomorrow I continue with more theories...

[moonchildridden]

The Boy Next World Special Episode: The Aftermath 

Hi. Hello. How are you guys on this beautiful day, now that April has started? Your girl here is still suffering from what I can only describe as a BossNoeul aftershock because since Sunday i literally cannot stop thinking about the things I saw in those one hour and almost ten minutes. Not only BN ended me the best (and worst) way possible, but MAME decided to add ForthDonut to the mix and just bury me and dance on my grave. But more on that later. 

It took me a while to get my brain functioning properly again (hence why this is coming always three days late and not on the same day as the release of the episode, to ride the heat wave of the fandom reaction), but even if it’s still roaming around trying to get online again, I simply NEED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY MIND OR I WILL IMPLODE (reminds me of my Tumblr early days, when I dedicated my days in freaking out because of PuthKaeng. Those were the days, man...). I feel like you guys understand me on this, because no one really survived after that episode.

I just know it. 

However, contrary to what you guys could expect from a post from me talking about something, there isn’t really an analysis to be made here, just pure insanity with a sprinkle of nail bating moments and screams to make anyone cover their ears. I’ll talk about what caught my attention, my general impression of every bit, my opinion on the acting, the scenes that drove me crazy and how MAME managed to turn TBNW into an even better show with this special episode.

First of all: Boss Chakaimon.

This man has been my nemesis since the first day I put my eyes on him and three years later it hasn’t changed. Granted, Fort snatched my attention during LITA era (Prapai was my weakness. Those who met me in 2022 know that. I suffered with him, and still do) but Boss was there, peaking from behind the curtains, waiting for his moment to get back to the front and ruin me for good. It doesn’t spark joy that I love a man with long hair and now that Boss got hair enough to NOT NEED HAIR EXTENSIONS TO MAKE A HAIR BUN, I simply die every time I see a photo of that man in my X’s feed. So, yeah, bun!Cir had the guarantee to make me his bitch and dude got what he wanted.

Also, even if we jokingly refer to this version of Cir as Phayu!Cir, being the obsessed woman that I am and having re-watched LITA countless of times, I can assure that there’s nothing except the hair that creates similarities between these two characters. The way bun!Cir carries himself, his expressions, his tone of voice, his eyes, his thought process, the way he acts and reacts are extremely different from Payu and those details only show how Boss managed to evolve in his acting since LITA and how he continues to do so.

Second: nerd!Phu.

We all know Noeul is a chameleon, in the way he can simply switch on and off a certain character when he needs to do so (Boss does that too but Noeul is faster on that) and nothing proves that ability of his than how he managed to make a mix version of Toh (from Secret Crush On You) and Wayo (from 2 Moons) much more interesting that it was supposed to be. The cuteness, the awkwardness, the distant pinning, the loser complex, the “cuteness” of his stalking (hence the mentioning of Toh. I love SCOY but I cannot deny the fact that Toh managed to freak me out most of the times during the series)

(this was a total callout for that, I know it)

and the adoration he had for Cir.

There wasn’t a single time I didn’t swoon for nerd!Phu, didn’t called him a “loser” (affectionate), didn’t feel the need to wrap him in a blanket and give him some milk, lull him to sleep and protect him from all the bad things of this world. Noeul made nerd!Phu still maintain our Phu’s innocence but with a slight change and I loved him for that.

Third: the overall structure of the episode.

We all have our fair share of disappointment or enjoyment from special episodes, no matter the series or the the year we are in. Usually, special episodes are made just to show our characters in a happy-well-made-life scenario, without nothing exciting happening (don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my favorite couples just being domestic) but after a while it starts to get repetitive. TBNW, from the start, got rid of that repetition by having “another” couple the center of the episode while still bringing our main couple to the front. MAME could’ve decided to give us main!CirPhu just being a couple (we didn’t really got much of those in the series) but instead she gave us the only version of CirPhu that were not together yet but a version that we were somehow familiar with (we got to taste how bad-mouthed bun!Cir was and we all loved it) and how the time bun!Cir spent in main!Cir body prepared him to get with his Phu.

Yes, he was still as foul-mouthed as we knew him, kinda rude at times but since the moment he woke up and found nerd!Phu on his doorstep, holding the bag of medicine and recognized him, he was already halfway into the road to his canon event (remember that banger of a post I made? Yeah, still relevant until this day) and nothing was going to stop him. He tried to coax Phu to get off his hiding and talk to him, took the lunch Phu had gotten him that day, then drank the drink Phu gave him (while having the strange rule of not eating/drinking things people brought for him. I wonder if all of his versions are like this) and then used all the opportunities Wim gave him (the bus ride, the game in the camping, the singing and getting the chance to make Phu confess that he liked him) to finally get what he felt he was supposed to get. After all, Phu made Cir notice him, so why not take the opportunity and go with the flow? 

There weren’t any unnecessary scenes, any filler, any confusing scene, no unnecessary drama, no dragging, no unnecessary slow-burn, cliche!CirPhu had a direct and straight (ha!) story, with a clear beginning, a clear middle and a clear “ending) (we didn’t get to see the aftermath of their kiss in the tent but we all know they ended up together. Don’t all CirPhu versions end up together in the end? 

Also, can I add that Cir saying Phu’s full nickname is my ultimate weakness? Because, it doesn’t matter if the emotion behind the name is lust or wonder, Cir’s voice saying that simple word that is Phu’s nickname will always get me weak on the knees. I hate this man, seriously.

(another add-in. Them being in opposite sites of the swings, and Phu doing his best to even see Cir's face until Cir got up and closed the distance between them could be a nod to the fact that their story almost always start because Cir gives the first step towards Phu. Intelligent writing is like this, connecting all the dots in your own story).

Forth (ha!): JinWim.

I suffer from second lead couple syndrome and JinWim got my heart even with the little screentime they got in the series (that was also fairly well explored. Well done, MAME). The golden retriever/black cat dynamic is never a miss for me and when we have that with “supernatural” element involved, you bet my ass will be on the frontline, losing my damn mind over it. Watching Jin get incresidly interested in Wim the more he gets to spend time around him, getting curious as to how can someone be so honest with himself to the point of literally speak their mind out loud, and fall in love with the little things he saw in Wim, with his pure honesty and golden heart.

Wim also falling gradually for the sky-gazer dude who seemed to like to speak in riddles (Jin, you ain’t Jesus) and annoy him just because, having his feelings crushed when he thought Jin was lying to him and then opening his heart to the feelings Jin had for him also. Imagine having someone say they decided to stop reading your mind (no matter how Jin framed it to be, it was a conscious decision) because you were honest and they didn’t need to be cautious or have their guard up around you? Wim can relate. 

However, and this is a big HOWEVER, I wasn’t prepared to the JinWim version we got because jumping from a soft couple to a couple that is subtly and, sometimes, openly horny for each other, making double meaning sentences, dirty jokes and being clingy was a whiplash of unprecedented proportions.

That kiss in the forest...guys, THAT KISS IN THE FOREST...the way Jin’s hand got inside Wim’s shirt, the aggressiveness of the kiss, the raw desire...

ForthDonut, I’m sorry. I wasn’t familiar with your game.

Fifth: the NC.

Ok, this was saved for last because it came last (no pun intended!) and because I needed to take all that out of the way to focus on the fucking show BossNoeul put in the NC. I thought they could never outdo their NC on the last episode of TBNW, and the same way I was wrong because I had thought previously that the daddy scene couldn’t be outdone and it was, the showed me they can always go beyond my expectations.

It started with Phu being the sassy baby he always was (seducing and provoking Cir because having Cir losing control is, canonically speaking, a huge turn on for Phu), then them just being totally unhinged (I will die while still having that hand on Cir’s crotch ingrained in my mind)

and wild, just as always. The maniacal smile on Cir’s face when Phu asked to be punished (“punish me until you’re satisfied”. Phu, seriously, WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT IN A MOMENT LIKE THAT?! WHY WOULD YOU RUIN MY SANITY LIKE THIS?!)

and the moans...why do they have the prettiest moans in the entire industry?

(also, my brain couldn't resist noticing that we got similarities between their NC on LITA episode 6 and this one. I just couldn't stop once I noticed)

(like, seriously! Look at this and tell me I'm crazy)

(CIR, PUT THAT FUCKING TONGUE BACK IN YOUR MOUTH!)

Then, we got Cir's revenge because this time Phu got tired from their activities, them snuggling, and the shower sex on the next day in the morning, to end with them just being their usual selves, happy and with the certainty that all of their versions are happy in their own little universes.

But wait! Our main-main protagonist dark!Cir made an appearance, this time not in the clock room but in a field, with bun!Cir in front of him and ready to terrorize another version of his with his riddles ad endless patience (Tumblr has a 30 photos limit per post, so no pics from now on. Why I only discover these things when I'm in the middle of writing one?). However, there's one question hanging in the air: if his time was with main!Cir and this version already got his happy ending, why hasn't he gone back to his Phukan? If what he said about all the versions of Phu always being safe is to be believed, then his Phukan is still alive and well, so why not go back? Is he being forced to keep guiding other versions of Cir? Did he chose (which I strongly doubt) to continue there? WHAT HAPPENED WITH DARK!CIR? I NEED ANSWERS!!!

********************************>>>>>*****************************

Overall, this episode was perfect, and I'm not saying this from a biased perspective but because from all the special episodes I saw until now (not as much as I would like but enough to faintly know what I'm talking about), this was the most complete we got and, coming from MAME and her penmanship, that's a big and large win. She managed to make me even more obsessed with a story of hers (LITA, you have competition!) and don't ruin the build up she made during the airing time. The endless possibilities and material she gave us with this episode is massive: the fact that this universe Jin still has his mind reading abilities towards Wim makes possible for some mind reading during sex (one of the things that I lamented losing in the series but not really because the lost got a sweet explanation and I'm satisfied with it, it makes sense), how nerd!Phu reacted after the kiss, how their relationship evolved, their first time, cliche!CirPhu dynamics, the Cir that will occupy bun!Cir place until he also finds his Phu, the reason as to why dark!Cir is still going around advising other Cir...all of that material from an hour episode is bonkers.

So, yeah. This was me dumping my unhinged thoughts about this episode and how, Wednesday, I'm still not over and will never be over it because that's not possible. I don't even wanna know how I will react when we get the scenes from the boxset.

I'll die. I know that.

[ai3xx0]

Why do you hate Florence :(

tiny disclaimer, i am not very good at putting my thoughts into words. some parts of this may not make as much sense to you as they do to me. also, this may be a little unorganized because I've been adding to this post throughout the day

i don't like florence, and here are a few reasons why.

during Sundays, she disrespected the reverend's boundaries and disregarded any indicators of him not being interested in her (which leads me to believe the sex scene is actually SA, given she dragged him into the room, locked the door behind her and proceeded to drag him into bed) and i do not think narcissism fixes any of these issues or disproves anything that i just said, and i believe neither narcissism or sundays should exist... it's the two biggest flops of moral orel, i fear

i also think that the reason it wasn't portrayed as assault is because (regardless of how ahead of its time "Alone" was) male SA wasn't taken as seriously in the 2000s

furthermore, florence remained obsessed with putty despite the fact that he was indirectly fueling her ED which just makes their relationship that much worse

not to mention, she left roger for putty when he didn't even want her and indirectly but clearly made an insult aimed at her during a sermon. yikes.... and flirted with rod in front of her daughter...mega yikes...

i can see why one would think that florence is a sweetheart and never did such a thing, mainly because she wasn't outright mean or degrading to her victim, but just "awkwardly flirting" or "shooting her shot" (still creepy actions. rod expressed being uncomfortable multiple times and was trying to drive her away without needing to directly say no).

and don't get me wrong, i do feel bad for her since she's being fat shamed by the entire community and i can get how it would (and did) affect her but that doesn't excuse any of her actions and she still proved herself to be a bad person.

i seriously cannot wrap my head around how the opinion on florence is so split when she's comparable to fakey with the way she acts, just a less extreme version of him.

and remember kids, not saying no doesn't mean yes (ahem, nurse bendy)

thank you for reading my rambling. narcissism sucks. sundays sucks. amen

[mr-culper]

In general, the brothel scene was brilliantly film. I especially liked the shooting angle from above, because Aemond looks like death there.

I really like how they did it. Although for me this whole scene was, as it's said, too much, a bit thick. Well, I don't know, but it was hard for me, I felt uncomfortable watching the brothel scene from the beginning to the end. And yet milk. Oh, Christ.

But then I thought maybe it should be uncomfortable.

We had grown accustomed to watching someone being killed, tortured, maimed in TV series. Game of Thrones has rape scenes. Outlander has rape scenes, and they are filmed in remarkable way. Several women were raped there, at least one child, – on top of that then his hand was cut off after some time, – and one man. And the scene with the male character, oddly enough, is the worst of all: he was in prison at that time, he was tortured, abused and raped. The scene is truly monstrous, awful and nightmarish, but I watched it, and you know what, it didn't really scratch me. I mean, I was like: well, ahh, that was terrifyingly, what next? let's continue to watch next. And my gut tells me that I wasn't the only one who thought so.

That is, now, for some reason, we – humanity – take a calmly view of very scary things. Or very indecent ones. In TV series, there are explicit scenes of torture, explicit scenes of sexual content, which are also generally inappropriate to show, yes, some other 'too much' moments... and that passes for normal. However, as soon as one shows a scene where a character is just lying on someone's soft lap, trying to abstract their mind, and all this is so vulnerable, tender and fragile, that people say: we feel uncomfortable!

So, watching someone being raped or murdered, or how captain Flint struck Singleton across the face with a cannonball and beat him to a bloody mess – this is normal for us, but watching a person who is vulnerable, open and seeks solace – is no.

We, the audience, are so unprepared to face our own vulnerability that we feel uncomfortable seeing it in someone else.

We are ready to meet with any expressions of violence against other people, against ourselves, because life is dark and full of terrors. One reads the news items every morning, there is an endless chain of murders, explosions, riots, arson attacks, terroristic acts, and some other villainies happen all the time. It has even start to wear thin! We have become so accustomed to it that at some point one sits and says: ah, someone was blown up here again, something fell there, something was burned out, someone was shot, those built a trebuchet and bomb their neighbors across the border, someone was flayed alive. In general, nothing new. You just sit and think: okay, things are getting worse every minute, but overall, it's possible to live, just live on, we are constantly faced with all this, so, darling, just keep yourself alive, please...

And then they show us Aemond in a brothel, and we are not ready for it. We feel uncomfortable, because we begin to feel vulnerable ourselves.

In Black Sails, in Season 3, John Silver says an absolutely wonderful phrase: I cannot look weak, I cannot feel weak, I cannot be weak.

I totally agree.

We are all obsessed with... well, not all of us, but many of us, I know people like that, I am that person myself... with not being weak, not looking or feeling weak, with being strong in any situation. I'm obsessed with self-control as well. Maybe that is why Aemond is so like-minded for me, not only because of fierce embitterment contained in both of us, but also because of the idea of controlling our own feelings.

I used to be very wishy-washy in my previous life. Now I'm a kind of reasonable person, but before... I'm very ashamed of who I had once been, because I complained about my life, I was spineless, weak, neither fish nor fowl. It really pissed me off, I hated and despised myself for it. At some point, I realized: I must to grab myself by the balls (figuratively speaking), clench my fists and jaw, stand out the cords of my neck and become a strong person or do something of that kind to stop despising myself. So yes, I'm obsessed with the idea of ​​self-control, with being someone who solves problems, neither creates ones nor suffers from them.

And maybe for me, and maybe for many others, it was uncomfortable to watch the scene with Aemond and Sylvi for this very reason, because all of that is such an exposure of the human soul that you just unable to bear it.

I really like the House of the Dragon screenwriter's innovation in this regard. The brothel scene hit us where it hurts the most. Well done. I'm delighted. They did this scene so great. I love it showed Aemond from his vulnerable side, from the side of a person who is also worried, being emotional over, but is trying to somehow solve all this in other ways. It doesn't mean Aemond does nothing. He does what no one else does – he thinks. He takes a break and reflects.

That's an excerpt from the new episode of the Tea & Rum podcast about Aemond's first brothel scene.

To find more episodes go to Boosty.

Other posts about that.

[tending-the-hearth]

"the chosen" season 5, episodes 6-8

oh i'm hurting that this is the last of the chosen until next year with s6 i need the next season IMMEDIATELY

spoiler free review:

this is the first time a finale of this show has left me completely and utterly speechless. s5 is a masterpiece, and once it's released on their website, i will be watching it over and over again bc i'm going insane about this

this is the BEST season they've done by far, and i cannot wait for the final two seasons

now for the spoilers!!

episode 6 starting with Jesus saying someone will be tray him and everyone immediately getting emotional what if i die

jesus seeing john the baptist????? hello????

NICODEMUS MY BELOVED I LOVED THE CONTENT WE GOT OF HIM

he wants to help but he's also so so worried

ohhhhh mary pleading with a pharisee to help jesus vs judas conspiring with a pharisee against jesus i'm going to cry

NICODEMUS' SCRIBE MATTHIAS BEING THE APOSTLE WHO REPLACES JUDAS OH I'M KISSING THE WRITERS OF THIS SHOW ON THE MOUTH I KNEW HE WAS IMPORTANT

judas i'm going to step on you but i'm also obsessed with how they did his reasoning for betraying jesus, either way Judas will find out if Jesus is the Messiah

mary mags my love

THE ZEALOT WE MEET WHO ZEE TALKED TO IN SEASON 2 AND WHO WAS IN THE TENT CITY ENDING UP BEING BARABBAS I KNEW HE WOULD BE IMPORTANT

episode 6 starting with the washing of the feet i will sob

GOSPEL WRITER MARK IT'S HIM MARK MARK MARK MARK THE LITTLEST GUY EVER HE'S JUST SO HAPPY AND EXCITED OH I ADORE HIM IMMEDIATELY

ohhhhh thomas being os unsure of jesus washing his feet and his guilt still eating at him

little james asking if jesus is sure????? and jesus kissing his feet when he's finished??????

peter my beloved he's still so silly even with how sad everyone is

kafni we're going to fight

each apostle getting their own flashback to their lives before Jesus while making their way to the upper room

baby faced apostles and more importantly BABY FACE THOMAS OH I NEED TO SQUISH HIM

crying about getting to see how jesus met thad and little james and oh he loves his first two disciples/apostles so dearly and thad and l james immediately clicking and thad just having so much affection for jesus

peter saying "never underestimate that kid" about thaddeus oh god he's everyone's baby brother and they love him so much

episode 8 starting with my favorite guy <3

during thad's flashback when jesus is calling him, and jesus listing the reasons for thad to follow him, and it flashes through all the apostles and the women and every scene from the previous seasons literally summarizing the events i'm going to throw up

jesus telling that he's going to be part of a family and it shows little james and mary and thad at mary's first shabbet they're the siblings ever actually

just I LOVE THADDEUS I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING HE'S MY FAVORITE GUY AFTER JOHN

i actually adore that thaddeus got a big focus at the start of this episode, it works so well highlighting the first apostle who met jesus

"let me know when your chest hair goes grey, oh wait, you have none" ATTICUS STOP BEING SO FUNNY

all of the apostles being ont he verge of tears this entire season is the most relatable thing, they are me i am they

the agony in the garden was SO well done

jesus having a vision of abraham and isaac????? during the agony????? before asking god to spare him????

jesus seeing ezekiel??????

oh my god jesus going to his trio and finding them asleep and it switches to show them as little kids curled up and asleep together and jesus just looking at them so fondly???? oh my god????

JOSEPH SHOWING UP AND COMFORTING JESUS OH MY GOD I SOBBED THAT'S HIS BABY OH I WAS HOPING FOR THIS TO HAPPEN OHHHHHHHH BELOVEDS

JOSEPH SAYING HE'LL BE WAITING FOR JESUS JUST KILL ME IT'LL HURT LESS

the apostles' expressions when they realized that judas was the betrayer, they all looked like they were physically in pain

the season ending just as judas kisses jesus' cheek dallas jenkins i'm in your walls

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WAIT ANOTHER YEAR FOR THE NEXT SEASON WTF

[earthtooz]

saw this post on twt, and i wanna give my two cents!

as a lover of astrology and someone who offers free, but very butchered, chart readings and tries to keep up with any astrological updates (we have a current moon phase in sagittarius, which means right now is a very abundant time for manifestations! big big things may be coming for many people, especially those with placements in sag)

i like to think he is an aries sun, capricorn moon, and gemini rising, and fear not, i'm going to provide reasonings with lore as for why i believe each placement is his!!

[ spoilers for 3.3 and perhaps theories?? below the cut! ]

aries sun:

this is so cookie-cutter, and expected, but i did not choose an aries sun because i thought it fit him, if anything, the sun sign is the sign i am literally the least concerned about when it comes to astrology.

i chose an aries sun because i firmly believe he is a gemini rising, and giving him an aries sun means that giving him a placement where the individual thrives in social situations, leadership, and strives to make a difference in his community. literally will lay himself down for it, and we see it as the worldbearer, the one who will inherit kephale's title and be the atlas of amphoreus, he is the one to carry amphoreus into era !!!

he fits all the criteria of aries suns, determined, bright eyed and bushy tailed, aggressive when need be (he literally threatened murder multiple times), and generally, people of aries placements tend to be quite active. as a warrior and someone who we can assume enjoys challenging himself, he embodies the martian, firey, cardinal energy of aries very well.

furthermore, aries are (believe or not) the most sensitive star sign of them all. phainon is... exactly that, he feels everything so deeply, the loss of aglaea, his hesitation when mydei urged him and tb to leave when fighting the flame reaver, the entire scene of him saying goodbye to all of his chrysos heirs companions!?!?!?!?!? he cares for everyone and everything so deeply- he's loyal and dedicated and feels everything almost too much. this is exactly an aries sun, and he'll hide it behind faux brevado.

capricorn moon:

pairing a capricorn moon with the motivation of an aries sun is a dangerous combination. absolutely lethal, will not stop until his goals are reached. obsessive, almost to a fault, but won't let you see it because of the influence of his other placements.

this is exactly him. fighting with mydei for 10 days straight, training diligently against the flame reaver, like hello?? this man will not stop until he physically cannot anymore, just be lucky for the influence of a fire sign. he is like dry grass and soil, one match will set the whole forest ablaze- take that metaphor how you want xD

furthermore, capricorn moons are notorious for being in a detrimental position, they will not express vulnerability. this doesn't sound like phainon, he does allow himself to express emotions, especially those of greater depths like sadness, but he is very avoidant of them. i want to start with two examples.

when mydei saught him out after the failed nikador trial, despite the fact that mydei's words weren't comforting and it's pretty clear he sucks at comforting people, phainon immediately did not want to dwell on the trial. in fact, it almost feels like he avoided the topic completely. granted, mydei doesn't give much of a chance to talk about it, but if he wanted to, phainon would have spoken. instead, he goes onto talking about poetry, teasing and pushing more of mydei's buttons, then offering a solution for the both of them (the infamous bath scene). he doesn't like talking about his feelings, clearly also doesn't like showing vulnerability, but he definitely feels them. that aries sun is a sensitive one at heart, but that capricorn moon refuses to dwell, so he moves on.

this is prominent after aglaea's death scene. when news reaches okhema that the goldweaver, the one who held up the holy city with her strings, has suddenly died, he allows himself to grieve for one moment. one letter from aglaea is the most emotional we've seen him, but he keeps moving (not moving on, there's a big difference). he goes straight into action, the leadership from the aries sun coming into play along with the stubbornness from capricorn moon, he takes the torch she's passed him and keeps moving. gathers the crowd, picks up an uncertain okhema and pushes them along, even going as far as saying he is not the one that needs comfort, but tribbie, who have lost a dear friend of theirs.

he does not allow himself the time for emotion, and will refuse to show it before anyone else unless it really overwhelms him. typical of capricorn moons.

also, capricorns don't have a really big need for material things, but earth signs inherently like owning things. we see this in his antique collection, even going as far to learn and study it, if we pair his aries determination and the analytical eye of a capricorn, it makes complete and total sense why he enjoys collecting antiques lol.

gemini rising

the rising sign, in my opinion, will always be the most important sign in your entire astrological chart. it is the sign that sets up how the rest of your chart will look, the influences of each planet and house and sign, it is the basis for your world and personality, and he is, in every sense of the goddamn placement: a gemini rising.

first of all, geminis (and don't roll your eyes at me), are the embodiment of not knowing your identity. like COME ON. if you are at least into theory crafting a little bit, phainon is the most mysterious character in all of amphoreus right now.

sociable, likeable, phainon is a mold that can and will fit into any situation. a friend, a leader, a soldier, he is so many roles all at once and so... so damn malleable, the mutible air energy of gemini is so prominent that i want to scream. he actually drives me insane!

gemini being the sign that rules his house of identity and self perception: he is flexible, adaptable, communicative, knows how to read social situations, quick-witted, an outside persona that is so charming and so fleeting that if you miss him, he's gone. he is so interesting in the way that gemini risings are.

as mentioned before, part of the reason why i picked an aries sun for him was because of the fact that a gemini rising will set it up perfectly for him. and that capricorn moon in eighth house is perfect for him— it represents that the individual will embark on a journey of self-mastery, whilst also being very practical to emotional situations.

i could actually go on for so long about astrology and how my beliefs can tie into his lore, but for the sake of it, i won’t, unless someone really wants me to. i don’t even think i covered the lot of it 😭😭

if you’ve read this far, thank you :,) if you would like me to do this with another character, feel free to ask!

[flow2024]

a continuation of frame-by-frame trailer deep divin, which does get into potential spoiler territory (and also very long) so i'll leave it under a readmore:

henry golding's here it seems, probably takes place during a climactic showdown setup or whatever. joe is also here (behind nile) you can see his sword. booker appears later in the sequence. interestingly tho nicky is nowhere to be seen ? dunno whats up with that unless they're going for the 'gets fucked up by the car and gets picked up by akasha' bit. which would be funny bc king cannot escape being damsel in distressed. i'm firm in my belief hes not perma-dying tho, if that helps. it also might just be edited weirdly and he's just not really in any of the clips of this bit

in the scene with the fire and andy screaming in the mud there seems to be a second person here but this location isnt anywhere we see elsewhere in the trailer i dont think unless its tuah's hideout.

she's definitely outside, but its tough to tell When this takes place. in my heart its a post quynh flashback but i dont know how likely that is.

could be what she's wearing here?? in that case i hope she's killing that priest

what is it with these people and hanging out in churches

'with a power you can't even imagine yet' (fails to blow out match)

the editing of this clip suggests she's in paris (plays right after a shot of the arc de triomphe) but i dont think thats true

they've gone full Ominous Evil Lair on this one, including Evil Red Books

andy now seems to be in the same place

maybe whatever secret library villain thing this is is actually just where akasha/discord/whatever the fuck her name is stores all her diaries

i thought andy and tuah were in the same place as akasha there and they still might be but a) andy's clothes are different b) they're at least in a different room. why are all the books so grey. if tuah wasn't in clips which i am assuming take place later in the movie (but i have no real evidence for this) id guess that he's getting killed in the clip from earlier with andy

this is fully a Different Area. than anywhere we've seen so far. unless its the bit with andy screaming which i dont think it is

she's literally Right There lmao. we've all said this but a major girl what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament. also means there may be more flashbacks for this movie if they've already filmed one (andy killing priest please. Please. please. please plea)

real water <3

uma thurman's henchman squad? maybe? also i swear to god the coffin is smaller?

not much to say here just an interesting look at how fucked up the coffin is

kind of a Whomst the Fuck are You to the guy to her left look, neither of the guys here are people we've seen before it doesnt seem

apparent outside look at the home of the most unhinged interior decorator in the world (is it uma thurman?)

nothing i have to say here just wanted you all to look at her. welcome back beloved <3

i fear the color grading isn't getting better it's just getting brighter guys. thought this was quynh from a distance but surprise! uma thurman

joe again! tuah also! it is very difficult to tell who's behind joe, this shot cuts before they come into focus

best i got. doesn't look like booker i dont think, might be nicky, might not be

obsessed with blurry background nile watching andromaquynh toxic yuri reunion like Did I Miss Something

not sure where they are. holes in andy's shirt tho

first shot we get of cars getting fucked up, seems to be going into the water - might be the 2 cars that almost roadkill nicky but i'll have to check when we get there. would be interesting if they gave andy's getting stuck in the trunk of a car underwater thing to someone else (ideally nile but who knows). it's one of my favourite bits of force multiplied for sure

another church, uma thurman and nile having a chat (we have this scene? perhaps?

not to read too much into facial expressions but its interesting that this is tuah's reaction to andy's 'do you think she knows i've lost my immortality' line

my beloved wife experiencing the horrors (action movie protagonist stare at bathroom mirror moment)

seems to take place during their raid on whatever (akasha lair?) interesting that it's booker who gets the nothing that lives lives forever line echo. also andy's axe is holding the door open which is what prompted me to go through this trailer like this in the first place

we hit image limit folks stay tuned for further deep diving. we havent even gotten to the car thing yet

[bikenesmith]

ive noticed some engagement on some of my monkees (shit)posts from way back in 2012/2013 — my 14/15 year old self. which is endearing, bc im aware the monkees fandom is still going, and is perhaps even more active than it was in my day. this did remind me of a @fansplaining article by allegra rosenberg / @areyougonnabe that i finally got around to reading earlier this week, the beatles live!

(i have no idea how long some of you have been here, so to recap i was fully obsessed with classic rock bands and 1960s/70s pop culture from like, 12 to 15 years old. profound impact on me in many ways, still love 60s/70s music, culture and history. also lmfao at my fandom of the last near-decade being sparked by a film set in the 60s. the several page video essay script about x-men first class' anachronistic 1960s fashion, which is sooo close to actually being filmed, will likely be the ultimate culmination of it all) the beatles were my first music fandom — while i still have feelings for the monkees [obviously, considering my ~12 year attachment to this url across nearly all of my social media] it is the beatles that i still have brain worms for. a tiny, isolated worm, but one nonetheless. so this article, i had to read.)

i was really taken by this section on the anachronistic modernizing of beatles fandom activities.

It takes a certain stripe of fannish brain to obsess over music from a bygone age instead of modern artists—taking something as broadly popular as classic rock and treating it with all the intimate, loving attention that other fans devote to a sci-fi television show, a fantasy book series, or a cult video game. These fans are cultural archaeologists, working with the materials of the past to create the passion of the present. The phenomenon is not limited to the Beatles. On TikTok, fans place meme tweets on pictures of the Stones and Bob Dylan; celebrate Freddie Mercury’s style; and make Monkees fancams. But the Beatles fandom is still top dog, with a kind of default dominance it retains from the dawn of Beatlemania. On Tumblr, you can find gifsets of Beatles movies, fanart, and the occasional Yoko Ono stan post, side by side with more typically Tumblr-esque wackiness along the lines of Paul McCartney posts tagged “#my twink wife”, “Maxwell��s Silver Hammer” memes, and toxic yaoi polls.

it made me think about how this phenomenon — the blending of modern fan practices and modern pop culture (fancams, memes, insaneposting, etc) with classic rock fandom is not new (not that allegra insinuates it is — i am speaking generally), but is something that has been around for a while, and is something i participated in quite heavily when it came to monkees fandom. whether it was

editing a music video to the tune of marina + the diamonds

making art of mike nesmith as a genderbent marina + the diamonds analog

not to mention the entirety of the who (slight flashing tw)

creating mockups of a classic rock-themed homestuck/OFF/undertale/earthbound analog:

classic rock icons using homestuck icons as a base

blending classic rock into my ~aesthetic~ blog theme sensibilities:

this video where i did nothing but put the beginning of baby got back over a scene from the first episode of the monkees and the music lined up almost frighteningly well

or creating emo notepad screenshot aesthetic posts with quotes from head (1968)....

i was very invested in engineering (or maybe just yearning for + acting out desires?) a form of classic rock fandom that was "hip" to the modern fandoms i was aware of. this was likely inspired by the fact that monkees fandom at the time skewed older.

i cannot for the life of me find these accounts or screenshots of them, but i think the ultimate expression of this was a collection of twitter accounts i made as mockups of twitter stan accounts, modeled directly off of one direction accounts at the time. complete with icons that were cut-outs of musicians overlayed onto aesthetic background, and descriptions that noted how many times the musicians had interacted with them.

importantly, i could not have sustained this if not for the close friends i had at the time that were around my age and were on my wavelength, that supported it, commiserated with me, made lots — especially on the homestuck parts. even if it was a small thing, in a small fandom, it was a communal effort

idk. its interesting to see that these dreams of mine have now come to fruition.

abrupt stop, no conclusion bc this is just a post not an essay (a comment directed at my autistic ocd self). may be interesting to some of the nouveau classic rock fandom.

[kingsmoot]

ONCE AGAIN ASKING FOR ROOSE

HUWWO ROOSE WARRIOR ANON ILY!!!!

My first impression

i noticed him immediately because i had the thought that "roose" reminded me of the name "ruslan" but i didn't pay a huge amount of attention to him on my first read. this is incomprehensible to me now. i cannot tell you why i didn't latch onto him immediately. he's just so my type!!

My impression now

he is the most frightening villain of the series imo just a completely amoral unscrupulous uncaring granite block of a man also i am tom hardy myspace mirror pic back arching at him at all times he does not care but that is not stopping me. roose. ROOSE. ANSWER MY MULTIPLE TEXTSSSSSS.

Favorite thing about that character

his very strange, strained smile that creeps people the fuck out, and his total solipsism.

Favorite line/scene

Favorite interaction that character has with another

his short after-dinner conversation with arya in acok, his dinner with jaime in asos, and his ride to barrowtown with theon in adwd!!

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

would have reeeeeeeeeeally liked to see roose and tywin meet irl!

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

brian cox's performance as hannibal in manhunt (1986) (he is notably unlike hopkins and mikkelsen whose takes on the role i vastly prefer)

generally i am more attracted to more showboating passionate villains than roose so i can't think of many other examples! i have not watched succession but from what i hear of brian cox in that, maybe him too!

A headcanon about that character

i have recently really come around to short!roose, like 5'9" roose. very strong but not cut.

A song that reminds of that character

An unpopular opinion about that character

i dislike the jokes about roose's obsession with youth and his forty step skincare routine because he actually is not vain at all and he is not obsessed with youth. he is obsessed with the physical health and function of his body in a way that betrays an extreme preoccupation with the quality of his blood/person and his need to keep himself physically in check.

how do i put this. you know how pat bateman is obsessed with keeping his body, his face, his hair, and his wardrobe crisply perfect? and this is in opposition to his serial rape and killing? roose very pointedly does not have that. he is not obsessive about his appearance. he is obsessive about his physical health and upkeep.

i really really really love vain villains it's like a special little delight of mine i really adore evil dandies. roose bolton is very very very much not that.

Favorite picture

i really really really really like mylestoyne and cosmiart's rooses here are some of my favorites:

also really love this beautiful christmas card of him and walda:

[sunfyre-targaryen]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S2E7

i've taken some time to rewatch the two last episodes to express my opinion.

the conversation between addam and rhaenyra. addam is one of my favourite characters and i cannot wait to see him in action. for whom that hasn't read the book, remember just one word: loyal

alicent getting the same wound as rhaenyra on her arm. i appreciated this detail, because now alicent is in the same position as rhaenyra was before deciding to move to dragonstone with laenor and the kids. alicent doesn't have power anymore, aemond doesn't need her and she is kinda lost because all her life, as she said to orwyle, she only has served her house and family and she ruled as regent for her husband.

rhaenyra and mysaria. guess that kiss was kinda useless, but i adore mysaria as master of whispers. when rhaenyra said "let us raise an army of bastards" i thought that in this way she is going to make vain every time her and her father tried to defend her children (even if in the book this is a jace's idea)

corlys and addam. it can be seen how addam would like corlys to behave like a father or at least admits that he knows that he is his son.

lord oscar tully, the man you are. he literally tamed daemon. catelyn tully and the black fish being his descendants totally makes sense.

daemon's vision of viserys asking him if he still wants the crown. i actually adored the visions he had with his brother. they revealed the loyalty and love daemon has for his family and house.

aegon trying to walk again. his pain. that broke me. (tom's interpreation is just chef's kiss).

alyn and corlys. when alyn said "i am of salt and sea". differently from addam, it can be seen that alyn is angry at corlys for leaving them behind.

rhaena and her obsession for dragons. it reminded me of little aemond, they are sooo different obviously, but they share the weight of being a dragonless targaryen while their siblings/relatives have one. i cannot wait to see her and sheepstealer at this point, since we won't get nettles.

alicent going out alone. it was kinda sad to see, especially because in the first season she was so fierce. i would have liked to see book alicent now, but i kinda understand this development of her character now.

jace being angry at rhaenyra. i kinda understand him, as a bastard the fact that he can ride a dragon is the only thing that make him worthy of his status to the eyes of the people. i understand his rage. on the other hand, he proposed to search for dragonriders among the nobles, it isn't so different. in both ways people will think that targaryens aren't so special if a mallister or a lowborn can ride a dragon.

rhaenyra's valyrian is like music for my ears. i absolutely adore when she speaks in high valyrian. (emma's voice is like honey to me fr). when rhaenyra summons vermithor, it is so targaryen, you know what i mean

hugh hammer claiming vermithor. perfection. he is saera's son for sure!

ulf claiming silverwing was kinda funny. vermithor be like "i will kill you all", silverwing on the other hand "you'll do baby boy". silverwing is so beautiful and watching her flying upon king's landing made me think that she used to fly like this with good queen alysanne, kinda emotional somehow.

THE FINAL SCENE. as a team green supporter i shouldn't have enjoyed it, BUT COME ON. AEMOND AND VHAGAR LITERALLY RUN AWAY AND RHAENYRA'S DRAGONS ALL "SINGING". THAT WAS JUST AMAZING.

i'll post ep8 after the rewatch. i have to figure out some things.

if you want to talk about it, feel free to send a raven!