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lysatoru · 4 months

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jujutsu kaisen x bridgerton

which confession from the bridgerton’s universe would say jjk’s men to their future wife/wife?

ft. geto, gojo, megumi and yuji

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Geto Suguru being the king George, y’know, i really feel like what the king George said to queen Charlotte would be something Geto would say because of his mental issues. I think he’d rather suffer alone than talking to his issues to his wife not to worry her.

Suguru stands up, raises his voice and looks at you, "I’m a madman. I am a danger. In my mind, there are different worlds creeping in. The heavens and the Earth collide. I do not know where I am!"

you raise your voice back, your face is firm, your brows are furrowed, "Do you love me?"

he doesn’t respond to your question and continues to talk about his issue, "You do not wish a life with me for yourself" — he stops — "No one, wishes that".

that’s bullshit! your think to yourself, what the hell would he think that? "Suguru! I will stand with you between the heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are. Do you love me?"

shouts echo through the room, the argument keeps going, "I love you! from the mo—" he takes a deep breath "from the moment I saw you trying to go over the wall—" tears begin to form in his eyes "I have loved you desperately. I cannot breathe when you are not near. I love you, yn. My heart calls your name."

both of your breathing are synchronized, Suguru comes closer and kisses you, desperately.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru being Anthony Bridgerton, i just know sooo well this man thinks he’s THE gentleman of the season, every seasons. I think he doesn’t want to find a wife since he’s the head of his family and he just does what he’s supposed to do but when he first saw you, an inner conflict began.

You’re both in the library, he really wants you to leave or he’s going to do something he’ll regret instantly. He hates you since the first time you met but he doesn’t know why. You just told him you’re leaving for your country and he can’t help but feels betrayed, sad and angry.

Satoru closes his book and looks at you firmly, "do you think there is a corner on this earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from this torment?"

you look at him completely confused, what the hell is he talking about? you start talking but he cuts you off.

"I am a gentleman, my father raised me to act with honor but that honor is hanging on a thread that grows precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"Satoru I—" he comes closer and whispers to your hear "You are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires. Night and day I dream of you."

You can’t even say a word. He steps back, takes a sip of his whisky "My mother is waiting for me" he quickly bows to you and leaves the room. You’re now all alone in the library thinking about what he just said to you.

Fushiguro Megumi being Simon Basset, i really think this man wants a partner who can be his bestfriend too, even though he never wanted to get married at first.

both of you are no standing in front of your majesty, wishing she’s going to accept your marriage. Megumi has always been a good man to you, but he never wanted to marry you, until that day. Today, you have to convince the queen to marry you.

"You see your Majesty, it was love at first sight—" you start but Megumi cuts you off, "It was not your Majesty" — he looks at you, and you just look completely stunned by his words — "the young lady flatters me, it was not love at first sight for either of us. There’s attraction certainly, at least on my part and Miss [last name] thought me presumptuous, arrogant, insincere, all fair really." — he pauses and breaths heavily, "And I thought her a prim young lady barely out of leading strings, not to mention the sister of my best friend and so romance was entirely out of the question for both of us but in so removing it, we found something far greater." — Megumi looks at you once again — "We found friendship." — The queen looks more interested now — "You see Miss [last name] and I have been fooling all of Shinjuku for quite some time, we have fooled them into thinking we are courting, and really all along, we simply enjoyed each other’s company so much, we could not stay away from one another—" you look at him, mesmerized by his words and presence in front of the queen. "I’ve never been a man that much enjoyed flirting or chatting or indeed talking at all, but with yn—" he clears his throat, "Miss [last name], conversation has always been easy, her laughter brings me joy. To meet a beautiful woman is one thing, but to meet your best friend and the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart…"

Everyone is looking at Megumi absolutely stunned by his confession. He really just said you two were fooling all of Shinjuku by pretending a future marriage?

You didn’t say anything and just keep listening to Megumi, excusing himself towards the queen and the prince.

When you go out from here you look at Megumi and ask him "Did a just say that to the Majesty for her to accept our marriage or—" he sighs, "I think all of what I said. I really think that."

Itadori Yuji being Collin Bridgerton, idk why but Yuji really gives ‘friends to lovers’ vibe and i’m HERE for it! I think this man doesn’t understand signals when someone likes him.

After helping you to find a man, Yuji starts feeling jealous of men trying to court you. When he saw you leaving the ball with your ripped dress, he couldn’t help but feel bad for you. He followed you to your coach and asked you to get on.

"Yuji, what are you doing here?" you ask him, this is definitely not why a gentleman he’s supposed to do, even though you two know each other since eight or nine.

He looks at you and starts telling you what’s in his mind. He talks rapidly because you’re going to you’ll soon reach your estate.

"I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be. And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded. But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings." — he takes your hands in his — "Feeling like a total inability to stop thinking about you—" he looks at your lips, "about that kiss. Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep, and in fact preferring sleep because that is where I might find you. A feeling that is like torture!" — he takes a deep breath — "But one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up"

Tears start to roll down your cheeks, "please, do not say things you do not mean" — "I do mean it. It is everything I have wanted to say to you for weeks".

You’re now looking at each other. Yuji caresses your cheeks with his thumb and he finally kisses you. The kiss is delicate but rough at the same time. You wanted this for so long!

Once you arrive in front of the Itadori’s estate. He gets out of the coach and offers you his hand to get out too.

"Yuji?" — "Are you coming with me?" he smiles, "What? Your family will see me!" he comes closer, "For God’s sake, yn [last name], are you going to marry me or not?"

You take his hands and goes to his estate, with him.

i wanted to write this for soooo long!!! i had this idea with two of my friends @sunelia and @nycteis17 (look at her fanfiction of sukuna in ao3 : the irony of fate)

i put the one who have a netflix season because i didn’t read the books yet and i didn’t want to put fake things or whatever coming from the books.

i’m trying a new style of header, tell me if you prefer this one or not !!!

english isn’t my first language ;)

divider by : @saradika

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gffa · 2 months

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One of the biggest hurdles with the Lockwood and Co. books is that they're set entirely from Lucy Carlyle's point of view and there is a whole lot of body shaming that really set my teeth on edge when I first read it. Some of it is still just awful, but I've come around on that I can read a lot of it as Lucy's unexamined issues from childhood rearing their heads in some nasty ways.

Her relationships with all the characters around her are contentious and full of conflict even just in her thoughts, she's so nasty to George, to Holly, to the Skull, to Kipps, to Barnes, etc. It most especially comes out with Holly (and Kat Godwin before her, then Flo Bones as well) and it's very easy to read Lucy as reacting badly to her own attraction to women, her envy of them and her inability to let herself be attracted to them, because she's closed off so tightly.

But it's also her relationship with the Skull, who she constantly argues with and says she hates, she has nothing but poison for it in her thoughts, but as soon as it goes missing, she's desperate to get it back.

It's also in her relationship with George, who she constantly nettles and thinks mean thoughts about, but it's obvious that she cares about him deeply and has grown to love him as a friend, even if she can't necessarily admit that to herself.

Her entire dynamic with Holly is centered around how feminine Holly is, how pretty she is, how Lucy just cannot stop thinking about how Holly dresses, how she does her hair, how soft her skin looks, how her little hand motions are so delicate and proper. And, yeah, some of it is envy and feeling insecure, that other people will like Holly more than her, but it's also just so much attention on all the little details that it comes off as unrealized physical attraction.

And then suddenly, I'm looking at all of the relationships Lucy has with people, where almost all the people she likes and respects are ones she's nasty to. Which clicked into place for me when she went back to visit her home town and was miserable there, the poor relationship she had with her family suddenly making so much sense in the way she rejects people before they can reject her, that she's so terrified of being vulnerable that she schools her thoughts and actions and words into prickly meanness so that she doesn't get hurt when they don't want her.

Lockwood is the exception to this, because he's the one who took all her nastiness and kept being mostly kind to her, he allowed a certain amount of vulnerability to himself and Lucy slowly started to come around on him and thought nicer of him. Sure, part of it is that she has feelings for him and so her thoughts are kinder, but I think it goes hand in hand with the way Lockwood is the one that never really sniped back at her or egged her on in any way, he started to feel safe to her, he started to feel secure to her.

And then she breaks his trust! She sneaks into the locked room to find out about his history, in a moment of anger and frustration, she breaks the thing that he asked them not to poke into, and she knows he would have every right to be angry enough at her to kick her out! But he's nice to her about it! He says, no, it was time to tell you guys about it anyway. He's open and vulnerable about something that she desperately feared rejection over!

Which is of course why her feelings reach a certain point and she has to acknowledge them, she can't deny them anymore, so the slightest push (the ghost wearing Lockwood's face, saying that she would do this to him, get him killed) has her running off from the agency and going independent, because she's terrified that she'll get Lockwood killed/terrified of actually stepping across that line into having feelings that could really hurt her if she's not accepted.

She's complicated and messy and I love her, she's a great character with a great, dynamic arc--but it does require reading into some of the more problematic elements of the character and taking a more generous view of them, even when I know much of the real answer is that the author probably didn't see the problem with the way he would have her describe characters (especially anyone that was overweight) and you have to find the mental line you're willing to walk with that. But if you're okay with wincing through some of the earliest stuff, I think there's a really cool Hot Mess Lady character waiting on the other side.

#lumi.txt #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle

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maemelany · 1 month

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RACING HEARTS - Part I: Miami

Well hello,

Life happened, and I didn’t write a fanfic in … three years, lol.

I did write an actual book and will probably publish it sometime next year – but I needed a break from it. So here’s a small something (don’t know if it’s going to be a series, no promises here)

Anyway, I’m back and enjoy

Mae

Summary: y/n is an influencer who is doing very well currently. She has no interest in F1 and only watches races because her little brother is a huge fan. So when a sponsor offers her passes for the Miami weekend with Mercedes, she cannot refuse and decides to surprise her little brother.

But will he be the only one to be surprised?

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word count: 3.2k

Part II here

Friday Practice Sessions

It was hot. You expected the sun to be out because it was Miami, after all, and you were glad you went with that light summer dress you got gifted by a brand after the Paris fashion week a few months ago.

The paddock was full of celebrities, some you recognized and had seen before, and others you were simply starstruck to encounter in such a casual environment. Especially since it was still Friday, not even the actual race day.

Of course, the Miami F1 weekend was big, and getting paddock tickets was a big deal. And even if you suddenly forgot how lucky you were, your little brother was there to remind you.

Of course, you worked hard to get to where you were now. A few years back, brands couldn’t care less about you. You had to work hard, take your content to the next level, and be consistent—all that while working two jobs to invest in what you knew you were born to do.

And it paid off. You were still shocked when people you’d only seen on TV knew your name or actors you fangirled on started conversing with you in red carpet lines.

But really, days like today were what you were most grateful for. The best part of your work was making the people you loved enjoy life, and your brother was ecstatic. With the big age gap between you, you hadn’t had many opportunities to bond. Your brother was eighteen years younger than you and was born after your mother remarried and finally found the happiness she deserved.

You loved your brother more than anything, but he wasn’t usually the most talkative nine-year-old boy around.

Maybe he’d talked more since you’d arrived in Miami than he had this entire year.

But it suddenly stopped when you got to the sponsor’s hospitality suit. Your brother was speechless as soon as he saw the car on display. You found it funny, recording all his reactions to share with your mom later.

“Y/n, this is crazy. Look how big the tires are!” your brother said, kneeling in front of the car.

You laughed and nodded. It still wasn’t your scene, but he made it exciting to be there.

The sponsor’s hospitality suit was something else. Honestly, you weren’t expecting that level of comfort. You had access to free drinks and personalized merch, and they even told you one of the drivers would give you a tour of the circuit later.

“Do you think we’ll see Lewis today?” Your brother asked

You chuckled. You may have been a novice in F1, but Lewis Hamilton, that was a name you recognized.

Not only because he was your little brother’s hero but because you had seen him from afar a few times at events over the years.

“I don’t think so, but we’ll definitely see him drive.”

And, of course, you were wrong.

About an hour after you made that statement, a few gasps, including your brother’s, distracted you from your phone, and you looked up.

They were pretty far from where you stood, but you could see them. Lewis and George were there, all smiles and already talking to people.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Y/n, do you see what I see?!” your brother cried out.

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Your brother, who was usually so reserved, was so excited you barely recognized him.

“Well, let’s go meet them before you pass out,” you said, taking his hand.

You made your way to the small group around the drivers, waiting patiently for a chance to interact. You could tell your brother was getting more nervous, his gentle and timid nature taking over.

It was George who noticed and approached you first. He shook your hand and nicely introduced himself to both of you. Your brother tried to keep it cool, only betrayed by how he squeezed your hand. It was only when he asked for a picture with George that things took a turn.

“What tires do you think you’ll use tomorrow? Please don’t go for the hard again; your car is already lacking pace,” your brother suddenly asked.

George looked surprised by the question, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Yep, the geek was back with a vengeance.

Maybe it was George’s face or your loud laugh, but something caught Lewis’ attention, and he stared in your direction before approaching.

“Y/n?” Lewis said, now, close to your small group

George raised an eyebrow. “You guys know each other?”

Lewis did not break eye contact with you and nodded. “You can say that we’ve bumped into each other before.”

You bit your lip. You wished he had forgotten that. It was the weirdest exchange you’d ever had. You did talk to Lewis once in New York. The event organizer had introduced you, and Lewis was a sweetheart. He was all smiles and shook your hand. He had introduced himself in such a humble way as if half the world did not know who he was.

But when it was your turn to introduce yourself, things went wrong. You couldn’t pinpoint what destabilized you so much, his angelic face or how he looked at you, but you mumbled something you weren’t sure he understood and then said the most cringy thing ever. ‘I love your dog’

The awkward gene was either running in the family, or there was something about F1 drivers that brought out people's weirdness.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that,” you finally said, blinking a few times.

“Oh, I do remember,” Lewis said with a mischievous smile.

Your brother squeezed your hand, reminding you that people were still around you.

“Oh, and this is my little brother, y/b/n. He’s a huge fan of yours,” you said

Lewis kneeled in front of your brother to be at his height. “Nice to meet you, y/b/n. I’m Lewis.”

Your brother frowned and looked at Lewis, then the hand that he was reaching out to him.

Watching your baby brother meet his idol was the funniest thing, and you took out your camera to record it.

Your brother finally shook Lewis’s hand, telling him how much he loved him.

“Aww,” you whispered, watching the interaction from your camera lens.

Lewis looked up at you and smiled before focusing again on your brother. He spent a good ten minutes talking to you both, answering every question your brother had, and even laughing with you at the odd ones your brother shot his way.

“Lewis, we have to go.” a man approached you and said

Lewis finally stood up and looked at you with a huge smile. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer and tinkling. Lewis was hot, making it even more destabilizing because he wasn’t even trying. His natural charm and kindness were already enough, but his looks were just a bonus - A bonus you weren’t complaining about.

“It was really nice chatting with you. And I can’t wait to compete against you in a few years, big guy.” Lewis said

Your brother frowned. “I’m still karting; you will be gone by the time I’m in F1.”

Lewis laughed, not at all offended by your brother taking things so literally.

“I’ll try to wait for you.”

He smiled one last time at you before saying goodbye.

None of you said a word for a few minutes. Both of you sinking in what had just happened.

“Lewis Hamilton is a cool guy,” your brother finally said

“Yep, he is,” you said, chuckling.

Your brother had explained what would happen today, but you did not pay attention to his explanation. But now, it suddenly felt more interesting than you thought it would be.

The cars were fast—faster than on TV, and nothing compared to the many karting races you’ve watched your brother run.

“And they do that for hours on Sunday?” you asked

“Yep,” your brother said, a massive smile on his face.

You could tell he was imagining himself in one of those fast cars one day. And you promised yourself to do whatever you could to help him achieve his dreams.

Lewis did great during the practice sessions, at least according to your brother's detailed commentary when you asked him if he enjoyed his day.

You were about to leave the paddock with your brother when you heard someone shout your name.

You turn around to find a man running after you. You frowned, trying to remember if you knew him but couldn’t remember ever meeting that person.

Still, you stopped, waiting for him to reach you.

“I’m so sorry for screaming like that. I’m Jamie, I’m on Lewis’s PR team.”

“Oh, okay…”

You weren’t sure what to say or why someone from Lewis’ team was looking for you. You patiently waited for the man to catch his breath and tell you what was happening.

“Sorry… you two walk pretty fast, you know,” he said, chuckling

He then handed you two yellow passes. You were even more confused.

“These are VIP tickets for tomorrow and Sunday. Lewis wanted you to have it.”

The confusion was only growing now. Why did Lewis want you to have VIP tickets? Weren’t the paddock tickets already VIP ones? This day, this sport was only getting weirder by the second.

Jamie must have spotted your confusion because he proceeded to explain what the tickets would allow you to do. Basically, they would allow you access to the garage, the cars, and the Mercedes team during the races.

“Sick!” your brother said, excited.

You thanked him and returned to your hotel, wondering why Lewis gave you the tickets.

Once in your hotel room, you kept thinking about it. You decided not to read too much about it and to accept that it must be a kind gesture to your little brother. Lewis must have seen how passionate he was about F1 and what a gift it would be for someone like him to watch the races up close, next to the people who actually made it happen.

It had to be why because you refused to believe it could be more. You refused to believe it could be about you.

You decided to share some content on your social media to change your mind. After all, that was why you were offered the tickets in the first place.

You went on Instagram, ready to share more about the day on your feed, but you couldn’t help but go on Lewis’s profile. You had a huge smile when you saw his latest post, a picture of him and Roscoe entering the paddock earlier today.

You were about to leave his page when something odd caught your attention. It said follow back, not just follow. You went blank for a few seconds before realizing what was going on.

He followed you. It couldn’t have happened a long time ago; it had to be today. So you scrolled through your notifications and found it. He did start following you today, and just like that, your mind started spiralling again.

You followed him back but did not say anything. Again, you preferred to avoid any assumptions.

Saturday Qualifications

It was very hot, just like the day before. But there were more people today, as the qualification sessions were more entertaining and significant.

Your brother was super excited about seeing the actual racing cars and being able to touch them. He even knew some of the engineers’ names and couldn’t wait to meet them.

When you arrived at the Mercedes motorhome, Jamie met you, the same guy who gave you the tickets the day before. He gave you a small tour of the place, and your brother took pictures of the most basic things.

You passed George’s room, but he was busy, and you couldn’t say hi. But when you were in front of Lewis’s room, you found yourself hoping you could see him. Just to thank him for the tickets, you told yourself.

“Look who we’ve got here. Hello guys,” Lewis said when he saw you

He gave your brother a fist bump before turning to you. Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do, give him a fist bump too, or just wave or…

You didn’t have time to overthink it as Lewis pulled you into a quick hug. It wasn’t that deep; it could even be classified as a half hug, but still, it was enough for your heart to miss a bit.

You could feel his toned arm around you and how he smelled so good. Again, your cheeks were starting to betray you, so you looked down.

“Thank you for the tickets, Lewis. Y/b/n is never going to forget this weekend.”

“I’m happy he’s having fun. I hope you’re having fun, too.”

“Oh, I am. Not gonna lie, I’m not the big fan here; he is,” you said, pointing at your brother, who was now talking with an engineer. “But it’s growing on me. I don’t know if it’s the special treatment or the actual driving, but I like it,” you said, laughing.

Lewis was still looking at you; his smile didn’t move. It only became more mischievous. “We can test that theory right now.”

Something told you the driver was up to no good. “I’m not sure I like this look, Lewis,” you said

He laughed this time. His laugh was just contagious.

A few minutes later, with a few waivers signed and a helmet on your head, you were inside a car with Lewis on the other side.

“Did I mention that I don’t like speed? I did, right? I barely passed my driving license; I don’t even like cars,” you mumbled as he started the engine.

The people outside were laughing; even your brother was laughing outside, recording it all. Everybody found it funny, but you didn’t.

“Please don’t go too far,” you said, turning to face Lewis

He had that smile again. The one that clearly stated that he was up to no good. “Now, where would be the fun in that?”

You didn’t have time to argue as he started the car. The sound alone made you scream. He was fast. You could feel your heart beating; it felt like being in the front row of a roller coaster.

“Oh my god! Lewis!” you screamed again as he took a corner at a speed you couldn’t comprehend.

“So, do you like the sport more now?” he asked you, smiling

“Hell no, this is madness,” you said, relieved as you could see the garage getting closer

“Wrong answer,” Lewis said, accelerating again and missing the stop line.

“Lewis!” you screamed, but he had found it amusing because he went even faster, something you didn’t think was possible at this stage. “Oh my god, I’m so going to die.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not. I’m a seven-time champion, remember?”

“Eight. My brother told me eight.” You said, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Lewis said, laughing

In the end, you did three laps. The last one was the worst. You screamed so much Lewis couldn’t stop laughing. It was pure chaos.

When you got out of the car, you immediately removed your helmet and turned around to Lewis.

“You do that for a living? Are you okay?” you asked

He laughed again. “This doesn’t even get close to the feeling you get in the actual racing car, you know.”

You turned around to look at your brother, who was still recording. Suddenly, you were happy that he was too young to have the same experience.

“And you want to do that later too? You want to drive like a crazy person for a living?”

He just nodded as if it was the silliest question ever.

You spent another hour with Lewis and the crew, talking about the car and watching them prepare for the qualifying session.

Even when the atmosphere got more serious, Lewis was still pleasant, talking to you and making you feel included. He took the time to explain some basic things. Things that your little brother did not have the patience or time to explain to you. Y/b/n had found a spot close to the pit wall and was too mesmerized to pay attention to you.

You watched as Lewis and George completed their laps. The team seemed pretty happy with the final results. While they did not get pole position, Lewis ended up P3 and George P5. That was good enough, considering how they started the season.

Race Day

Your brother was awake before the sun even rose. He sang in the shower, repeating every five seconds that it was race day like you didn’t know.

He would make you hate the sport at this pace instead of liking it.

Y/b/n insisted that you both wear some Mercedes merch you were gifted the day before, and of course, no was not an answer he was willing to take.

So you ended up in the garage, wearing a white Mercedes t-shirt with George’s 63 in the back.

The atmosphere was different; it felt electric, and you liked it. You couldn’t experience backstage that way in any other sport. And it didn’t hurt to have Tom Cruise next to you, making jokes and chatting as if you were old friends.

“Now, that’s offensive.”

You recognized Lewis’s voice before you even turned around. He was already in his race suit, sunglasses on. That man knew what he was doing for sure.

It took you a few seconds to remember what he just said. You asked what he meant, and he removed his sunglasses, using them to point at your t-shirt.

“After the thrills I gave you, you’re rocking George’s number on your back? I’m offended, y/n”

You laughed and explained yourself. “There was no way I was wearing that purple sweater under this heat, Lewis. It was the only white t-shirt my brother was okay with me wearing.”

“So you would have worn mine if it weren’t for the heat?” he asked, smirking.

Again, you could feel your cheeks betraying you. But you didn’t back down. You stared right at him and nodded. “Yes, I’m more of a 44 girl.”

“I like that,” Lewis said, smiling at you.

As much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. It was there. You liked the smiles, those little stares, and the attention Lewis gave you. At this stage, it was pure attraction; you didn’t know him that well, but the little you had seen only made you more attracted to him. The way he was always laughing and how he treated your brother and his team. You wouldn’t say no to getting to know him better.

You watched the race, finding yourself rooting openly for him and celebrating with the team when he finished at the second place.

You watched him celebrate with his loved ones; the champagne part was definitely your favourite. Nobody told you that you got to see hot, sweaty men - especially Lewis - pouring champagne and getting champagne poured at them.

A sight for sore eyes indeed.

Things got hectic after the race. Between the interviews Lewis had to do, the other people he had to meet, and the flight you had to catch as your brother had school the following day – you didn’t have time to say goodbye.

It felt unfinished. You wished you had time to talk more, but you were still happy you and y/n/b got to experience that.

You were already in your seat on the plane when you got the notification from Instagram. You couldn’t help but grin as you read it.

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lh44 x reader #lewis x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #racing hearts #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader

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moonschocolate · 10 months

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Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

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abiiors · 10 months

Text

under the mistletoe 🎄// ross macdonald x reader (pt 2 of 2)

twelve days of christmas - day 3

a/n: best friends to lovers? no. it's idiots to lovers. this is also part 2 of secret santa cw: kissing, alcohol, very tame and cheesy. there might be typos... wc: 3k

a cheer cuts through the chatter in the room and ross finds himself standing under a mistletoe, liv first in his arms, then standing on her toes and then they’re kissing—sweet, long kisses that make him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach.

butterflies that should have been a result of the kiss. instead, it feels more like a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest from anticipation.

ross doesn’t expect to be this nervous. more than that, he doesn’t expect to pull away from the kiss before she does. even when liv looks at him with slight concern.

he certainly doesn’t expect himself to be so hung up on secret santa. he has bought plenty of gifts for people he cares about before! good ones too; sure, he’s no pro at gift giving but he’s not entirely hopeless. but this time he simply cannot afford to mess up. not when it took him two turns to get the name he really wanted.

everyone looks festive in some shade of red or green on white—and one silver but charli really pulls it off. liv has a beautiful green velvet dress on, her curly hair piled on top of her head and gold hoops dangling from her ears. liv looks stunning!

it’s her that really takes his breath away—the girl who’s been his best friend for over a decade now. the girl who now stares at him with a tight smile on her face, cheering almost on autopilot with the rest of his friends. she’s in a classic red slip dress and matching red lipstick that contrasts her skin so perfectly that ross almost feels guilty for staring at her longer than necessary. he’s right next to his girlfriend for fucks sake. he needs to focus!

the excitement in the room is off the charts! everyone’s buzzing to get to the main event—the secret santa gifts—and he feels a tiny pit of nervousness at the centre of all his enthusiasm. what if she doesn’t like his gift? what if it’s something she already has or something that’s too personal… too intimate.

liv breaks his little spiral.

“you alright?” she slides onto his lap with an easy smile and pecks him softly.

“yeah, just excited about the gifts! i wonder who got my name.” even with her on his thigh ross can’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down. the weird mixture of anticipation and butterflies is something he’s rarely felt before—not since… well not since her last birthday when he’d gotten her two tickets to the play she’d been dying to go to.

(if he’s being honest it was not since she’d asked him if he’d like to go with her.)

“me too!” liv beams and it’s as if that’s matty’s cue to announce that they can all finally, finally move to the living room.

the living room is adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. a decently sized pile of gifts sits under the pretty tree—the current object of everyone’s interest. his nervousness aside, ross feels as giddy as the others do, still like a child on christmas morning about to get the long anticipated pokemon card collection.

matty gets to the pile and starts calling out names one after the other.

ross is barely even listening—his mind races with a million different possibilities. what if it’s a shit gift? what if she doesn’t like it or has something similar or doesn’t get the significance of it?

what if she thinks he put no thought into it?

he’s barely even listening when polly coos over the “cutest jumper ever!” or when george cackles over his gag gift or when matty almost goes misty eyed over the vintage book.

he only snaps out of it when matty calls out her name and envelopes her in a hug.

“it’s perfect,” he sniffles and ross burns with envy.

not envious of matty. never envious of matty but… a tiny, irrational part of him wishes she were his secret santa instead. that she spent days thinking about him, obsessing over finding the perfect gift just like he had.

that maybe she spent her nights in bed, wondering a thousand times over if her gift would make him smile (it would, ross thinks. she could get him a £10 bottle of wine and he would still cherish it dearly.)

“ross!” matty calls out and he startles a little.

matty looks at him with a slightly puzzled expression and wiggles a neatly wrapped gift in front of him. it’s square and thin with a small note attached to it.

he recognises it instantly—a handwriting he’s only recently come to know as liv’s.

liv. his girlfriend. his secret santa.

and he’s an awful, awful boyfriend for the feeling of disappointment that rises in him.

his fingers move deftly, tearing apart the wrapping paper until the gift inside becomes visible. the first thing he registers is the word “untitled” printed front and centre in big bold letters. and below it: “divine connection: the last unreleased album”. it dawns on him slowly—the band, their band. the last album from their band. just his and hers. and on autopilot, his gaze snaps up to her.

“ross?”

for the second time that evening liv’s voice cuts through his spiral and he turns around to see her standing at the door to the balcony with a half-drunk champagne flute in her hands. she’s beautiful, he thinks. she’s always been stunning but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at her.

“can we talk?” she walks in and stands next to him, shoulders brushing with his. it’s a cold night. it’s silly being outside but he’s in a weird mood. he even kinda prefers it here.

“yeah of course,” he clears his throat and tries to appear casual.

“did you like your gift?”

“i did. it was… it was perfect.” at least that much is true. at least that much he can say with 100% certainty. “thank you. really, i mean it.”

“i know you do.”

for a minute she doesn’t say anything but her eyes roam over his face—a scruitinising sort of a look that makes him want to shy away. she’s never been particularly intense but in the few weeks he’s known liv, she’s had a way of guessing his little tells. it takes everything in him to not look away.

still, he closes his eyes for a minute.

the scene is still so fresh in his mind—ross opening the gift and looking up. ross staring at her and not liv. ross murmuring “thank you. it’s perfect.” and smiling at her before he even remembered that the gift was supposed to be from liv.

ross only looks at her, his best friend. and she can’t seem to meet his gaze.

liv clears her throat and brings him back to the present. she takes another swig of her champagne and offers him the glass. ross studies her lipstick smudge on the rim and accepts the drink gratefully.

“you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

a second sooner and he would have choked on the drink or done a spit-take like a fucking idiot but the question leaves him so speechless that he almost drops the glass.

“who?”

“don’t play dumb now.” her tone’s a bit sharp but her words aren’t unkind and the thought of being scolded like that makes him blush slightly and straighten up.

he’s about to speak when she continues.

“i see how you look at her—how you looked at her when you opened the gift i gave you. you knew it wasn’t from me didn’t you?”

wordlessly, he nods his head.

“you knew i didn’t think of it. you were right though. i didn’t. i went to her because she’s you best friend.”

“and she told you about the band?”

liv clicks her tongue. “she handed me the record. turns out she had you for secret santa before we picked the names again.”

“oh…”

there’s another beat of loaded silence in which he struggles to maintain eye contact with her and not feel like an utterly shit boyfriend.

“liv i—”

“i know,” she smiles briefly. “but you can’t string me along, babe. look i like you a lot. i really do and i know… i know you told me you were trying to move on from someone but i assumed that was a past relationship. i didn’t realise you were talking about…your best friend.”

“i’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “i really am. i know that was shitty of me.”

“it was a little.”

none of them speak for a few minutes. ross looks at her champagne again, wishing he’d had a drink with him for this conversation. or maybe not—maybe a clearer head is what he needs. he is getting dumped, after all.

and yet… there’s no sadness. just a faint sense of disappointment.

“so this is it i guess?”

in one gulp liv finishes the rest of her champagne and nods. “yeah. this is it. for what it’s worth ross… i have no hard feelings.”

this time when she smiles at him, it’s open and sincere. much to his relief, it’s friendly. liv stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. it’s chaste and quick—a goodbye, one that he returns by hugging her tightly.

liv pauses at the threshold just as she’s leaving.

“why don’t you tell her?”

ross shakes his head in disappointment and feels the familiar ache settle bone deep. the night suddenly seems so much colder than before—no longer the cosy kind that makes you want to snuggle up with a loved one. this feels sharp and biting.

“can’t,” he shrugs, “i don’t want to ruin years’ worth of friendship.”

he expects liv to understand that. it’s a perfectly normal sentiment—to love someone enough that you’d rather have some of them than none of them. but she just shakes her head at him.

“wow…” liv sighs, “for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb.”

and then she leaves him on the balcony, shivering and confused.

by the time he gets inside, there’s a lull in the party. everyone’s either drunk or loved up or both. well, maybe not everyone.

ross finds her huddled in front of the fireplace, absently staring at her wrist. at the pearl bracelet he got for her.

a near-perfect match to her beloved pearl necklace from her grandmother.

the fire casts a warm, golden glow on her—on her hair and the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, and down her chest. he stands transfixed at the threshold, waiting for something to happen.

maybe matty (passed out on the sofa) will wake up if he moves or polly might need something from him or george and charli might see them and he loves his friends but they have barely any concept of personal space after all these years. maybe he could just do it tomorrow when he’s not half-drunk, half-sober, and fully freaking out.

“ross?”

too late to hide now.

“why are you stood there? come on! it’s so cold!” she opens up her blanket cocoon—an invitation for him to join.

ross, startled by her voice, stumbles into the room. his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkwardness that has suddenly enveloped him.

fuck! she’s pretty. and yes he thinks that every single time he looks at her but it’s moments like these that really hit him like a gut punch.

liv’s words echo in his mind over and over again. for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb. was she trying to say what he thinks she was? or is he just delusional and projecting his own feelings onto her.

her body is soft and warm when ross settles next to her, pulling her into his side and tucking her head under his chin.

“you were deep in thought.” ross teases a bit, not ready to broach anything serious just yet. what he really wants to ask is about the record—how she’d somehow known his perfect gift before he figured it out himself.

“just thinking about how good i am at gift giving,” she teases back. “matty was ecstatic.”

she's right but he can’t help but find a different meaning in her words.

“that you are,” ross murmurs in her hair, resisting the urge to press a little kiss there. it’s too much for him—this intimacy. something like that might just tip him over the edge.

for a while she doesn’t say anything and ross wonders if she’s fallen asleep. it’s quite late and they’re quite cosy, it won’t be the first time she's fallen asleep on him. maybe, if she is asleep, he might even press that kiss onto her head after all.

“liv’s not here?” her voice breaks his train of thought. it’s not teasing anymore—she sounds neutral and controlled and… and like she’s trying not to pry.

“we broke up.”

“what?!”

she almost shrieks and matty stirs slightly but goes back to sleeping again. ross feels guilty for just dumping it on her without any context.

“i’m so sorry,” she says before he has a chance to speak. “fuck, at a christmas party too! that sucks, love. are you alright?”

“it wasn’t like that. it was…” this is it, he thinks. his one chance to get it right. “i’m perfectly fine. i’m… i’m better than fine. it’s… well she–you… fuck okay!”

he cheeks grow warm. it’s worse now that she’s properly looking at his now, her face a mixture of concern and curiosity; that she’s now an attentive audience to his pathetic flustered words.

“let me…” he takes a big deep breath and squares his shoulders. “okay. let me get this right. for the next, i don’t know, two minutes, you aren’t allowed to speak, okay? okay. so! liv and i talked.” the skepticism on her face grows and ross tries not to let it deter him. “the gift, the record—”

“was it not good?”

“oi! no speaking, remember? two minutes.” ross scolds lightly and almost laughs at her sheepish face. “as i was saying, the record. it wasn’t her idea, was it? i asked her how she knew and she told me you gave it to her. for me! why didn’t you… why didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

for all her talking a moment ago, now she seems speechless. so much so that she can barely meet his eyes.

“it was a lovely gift, darling. maybe even one of the best and… i just want to know why, that’s all.”

her cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink, and she fidgets with the edge of the blanket. “i guess i wanted you to have something meaningful without making things awkward. i’d already bought the gift and i didn't want to complicate our friendship with something that felt so… personal, especially with liv being in the picture. and…fuck! if that’s what made you break up, i’m so sorry, i—"

“it didn’t,” he cuts her off firmly. ross can’t help but notice the small details of her face then—the tiny smudges of mascara from no doubt when she sleepily rubbed her eyes, the glitter on her eyelids reflecting the firelight. her big, beautiful eyes and dilated pupils.

her slightly smudged lipstick…

fuck, it’s the tiny lipstick smudge on the corner of her lips that makes him lose his ability to think straight.

“we broke up because… well there’s someone else,” he speaks in a low volume. subconsciously, she leans forward.

“someone else?”

the room falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling fire. she waits, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he's joking or playing some elaborate prank. but the sincerity in his expression leaves no room for doubt.

“you’re my best friend,” he says, “and fuck, do i resent that! how am i… darling, how am i meant to pretend you’re just my friend when you’re the fucking focal point of my world?”

her breath catches so audibly that it’s almost a gasp. he waits for her to say something. anything. instead she leans in an presses her lips to his.

it’s so unsure at first, almost like she freezes and her brain can’t figure out where to go next. the kiss lingers, soft and tentative—both testing the waters of something uncharted. ross's mind races, trying to process the warmth of her lips against his, the subtle taste of her lipstick.

she pulls away before he’s even had the chance to kiss her back and hides her face in his chest.

“oh god, that was too soon, wasn’t it! that was–you just broke up and i—”

“love, don't hide your face, don't…” his hands gently cup her flushed face, making her look up at him once again even when she can barely meet his eyes and in that moment he realises he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

so this time when ross crashes his lips against hers, he makes sure to pull her closer. to hold onto her tightly. his arms are around her, her hands in his hair and oh she fits so perfectly in the crevices of his body. like a perfect puzzle piece.

by the time they finally pull apart, slightly breathless and grinning uncontrollably, ross hears her giggle.

“wow, that was my first kiss under a mistletoe…”

“we aren’t—”

“i know, but we’re next to one so it’s almost the same.”

he looks to where she’s pointing, to the little bunch tied above the fireplace.

“we could do better, darling.”

“yeah?”

“mm-hmm,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss from her. “let me take you home.”

and she agrees in a heartbeat.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem

add yourself to the taglist

#christmas75 #12 days of christmas #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you #ross macdonald angst #the 1975 angst #minor angst #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #angst to fluff???#in all honesty i kinda hate this because writer's block is a bitch but i can complain here because no one is going to see these tags #yeah. genuinely not very happy with this but also not in the position to rewrite it so we move

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randomthingsthatilike1 · 1 year

Text

honestly I think the wrong parent was sent to pick up Aly in the ending of Trickster's Choice

the entire book we see through Kyprioths visions to Aly that Alanna, above all, cares for Aly, that she really does see Aly for who she is and worries terribly for her lost, hidden daughter, angry and upset and scared. She's constantly scrying for her with the mirror Thom gave her--her daughter is missing and her husband lied to her about it.

After months and months of worrying and praying, Alanna finally knows where her daughter is. She loves George, she does, but he lied to her about her only daughter's well being. And after the 8 years of her training constantly lying to everyone Alanna is sick of it, sick of doing it and avoids it at almost all cost--but for this? For the love she has for her daughter?

She’s been worried sick, scrying every free hour, distracted and blaming herself for her daughter’s disappearance. She's not needed in Frasrland, not really, not with this stalemate at the border. The killing devices are all gone and nothing is happening there. They don't need her--but Aly does.

She’s been married to George for 20 years and she’s known him for 30--she’s picked up a few tricks on how to go around unseen, how to slip away seamlessly but first there are a few things she has to do.

Her husband with his nondescript features can roam freely. She cannot. She’s far too distinctive nowadays, but to quote her daughter that is what razors and dyes are for. Her long hair is her pride and joy. After years of cutting it boyishly short, as well as being a good enough fighter she can have long hair--it’s her one vanity.

She loves her hair. She’d topple kingdoms for her daughter.

A short and stocky man with copper red hair isn't the ideal spy, but shes here to find her daughter--its the story she goes with. She’s looking for her daughter, a Tortallan, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the Copper Isles.She speaks enough Carthaki to get by and well it’s not like she can’t defend herself, even with just a knife and hand to hand.

The only dead giveaway about her are her purple eyes, but she's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way and she's already used it before.

This barely scratches the surface of what she’d do for Aly. She's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way. She glamors her eyes to look the same as her daughter and her husband. She lightly dyes her hair, making it a more blondish red like Aly's.

She finds a young squire stationed at the border and surreptitiously steals some of his clothes and other supplies around camp, her personal weaponry far too flashy and distinctive.

Aly isn’t the only one who was trained by the King of Thieves.

You can’t tell me she’s never done anything like this with George, not wanting to be stared at by people who recognize the famous Lioness, either getting him out of some scrapes or just relaxing and having fun.

Kyprioth is sweating bullets. There's only so much he can hide, although he has far more power in the Copper Isles than Tortall so he can't stop her but he’ll do his best to hide her from the Goddess but uhhhhhhhh there’s only So Much he can do.

Alanna is Determined--she will find her daughter and is she maybe less subtle than George was? Sure. But all the same, she’s brought to the Balitang’s home in Rajmuat and makes her way to Lombyn.

It’s the same scene, of Alanna approaching Winnamine , introducing herself as Alan Cooper and asking to buy Aly-- Winnamine realizing “Alan” isn’t really here to buy Aly.

It takes Aly just a little longer to recognize Alanna--and she comes to a halt and is filled with shock because this is the Lioness, her mother who is persona non grata to the Copper Isles due to killing one of their princesses decades ago (and wow that might actually get Ochabu to tolerate her mother) and would probably be either killed or ransomed as a hostage p much on sight, the King’s Champion, one of the most distinctive and famous women in the continent--is here.

She’s here, her hair short and lighter and her purple eyes--they’re very similar to Aly’s now. Alanna letting out a sob at the sight of her daughter--her hair also shorter, eyebrow scar, broken nose, but alive and safe and still with that spark in her eye.

Just. The PARALLELS of both having the explicit approval of their god to deceive and lie and how they both deceived so many people to achieve their goals. Aly seeing her mother engage in spycraft and trickery to try to find her is probably a better apology than Alanna could ever find the words for

Later after Alanna had her Own standoff with Kyprioth she tells Aly she didn’t want this life for her, not because she was a noble or a Trebond but because she’s Alanna’s daughter and she knows how hard it is to keep a secret and deceive the people she cared about, and how much it hurt when it all came out. That’s something George never had to deal with--George has never really had to deceive his loved ones. They’ve always known he’s Crooked and an inkling of what he’s been up to--but Alanna has. She did it for 8 long years and she was good at it too, but the amount of pain it brought her after meant she never wanted that for her daughter.

Alanna earned her shield through treachery, the constant fear of being found out dogging her footsteps and once she got it she made sure no other girl would have to.

For Aly just to be reminded how similar she really is to her mother and begrudgingly putting that together--for Kyprioth to tell Aly that yes George gave her the skills he needed that made Aly his ideal Spymaster and what she’s done so far in keeping the Balitangs safe is why he wants her to stay, but it was Alanna’s actions that really sold him on recruiting Aly in the first place.

(I have other feelings about Kyprioth and Alanna here because d a m n “they say he loves a good trick”--as a girl for 8 years Alanna fooled the Tortallan monarchy and nobility. That’s what his Promised Queen will have to do. And he is George’s patron--it would make sense that both of them loved aspects of Alanna.)

(also while she’s there it’d be hilarious for Sarai to spar against Alanna and have her ass handed to her--it’d be a great nod back to when Aly was observing Sarai and thinking about her own training bc it sure would make Ulasim wonder wait can Aly use a sword????)

(also if anyone wants to write this go for it)

#tamora pierce #alanna of trebond #aly cooper #george cooper #alianne crow #alianne cooper #tricksters choice #tricksters queen #i've been working on this in my drafts since 2022 #kyprioth #alanna of pirate's swoop #alanna of pirate's swoop and olau #alanna the lioness #daughter of the lioness #1.1k words of meta later #meta #dove balitang

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pockeymcmockey · 2 years

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𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 | ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

Summary: With [Name] trapped in the Red Keep, Rhaenyra comes to her rescue—or is it the other way around?

Warnings: Major character death, violence, blood, manslaughter, kidnapping? HEAVY angst, marriage, wounded by sword, ooc Aemond? That's it, just a lot of angst.

Author's Note: I have NOT read any of George's books so I have no idea how the story of Fire & Blood ends, so forgive me because I know none of this happens AT ALL in the book. 💀 Also, I have an alternative ending in the making!

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ𝔙 | 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤

What anyone fails to realize is that during war, sacrifices must be made. In this instance, Aemond had sacrificed his woman for revenge against the one boy who ruined him. Now, as she climbs the jagged rocks that led to the entrance of Storm's End, ignoring his attempts at talking it through, he realized that sacrifices cannot be taken lightly—or taken back. The half-sighted princess pulled herself to the top of the cliff, not wasting time to sit upright and brush sand off of her clothes.

Aemond the Kinslayer trailed behind the woman that held his heart as she stomped her boots against the stone road until they came upon Vhagar, nesting in the tall grass. The green goliath recognized the prince, her rider, and the princess whom she almost devoured. The Targaryens of royal descent hopped onto the back of Vhagar, Aemond pulling her reigns and flying them to the Red Keep. As much as the princess wanted to go home to her mother, she knew the death of Lucerys would ruin her.

The kinslaying prince landed his colossal dragon outside of the Dragonpit, climbing off first then offering his hand to his wife-to-be. The woman ignored his act of decency and climbed down on her own, walking passed the one-eyed man into the usurper's home. Guards placed their lances in an 'X' in front of the princess until Aemond turned the corner, then they let her pass. Her expression remained blank throughout this trek, passing by servants, handmaidens, members of the kingsguard and even the Queen herself.

Aemond continued to follow her even up to her own chambers until she slammed the great wooden doors on his face, pushing a lounging sofa in front of it to keep him out. The prince leaned his head against the door and sighed, gripping at the hilt of his dagger before turning sharply and retracing his steps. When Alicent spotted her son returning from the hall that held [Name]'s chambers, she grabbed his forearm, her brow arched and her lips pursed. Aemond stared aloofly at his mother before she pulled him into an unoccupied room.

"Why is she here? Did she come alone? Where's Rhaenyra, did she come too?" Alicent bombarded her son with questions, spitting them out faster than a Targaryen could train a dragon. Aemond hadn't taken his eyes off the room's floor, his mind lost in thought about the last few hours. How is he supposed to tell his mother he lost control of Vhagar and murdered his nephew? She would be disappointed—if not furious—at him and would never let him leave the castle unattended like he was six again.

"Mother," Alicent spoke over her son, asking question after question and ranting with anxiety. "Mother!" The Queen stopped mid-question and stared at her son with eyes like saucers. "Enough. Lucerys is dead, as is his dragon. I lost control of Vhagar and she ate Llanerion. That's why she's here and she-" Aemond paused, caressing the holster for his sword. "She's angry with me. For killing her brother." Alicent nodded, one arm crossed over her chest and a hand covering her mouth as her eyes flicker across the floor. The Queen sighs and takes her son's head in her hands.

"Keep this to yourself, if anyone were to find out you lost control of a dragon then they'd think Targaryens were not meant to have them. And you are." Alicent kissed her son's forehead. "Don't let her leave this place," Alicent referred to the princess. "If Rhaenyra finds out, it will be on her own." The Queen parted with those final words, looking back at her son solemnly before leaving the room. Aemond stood unmoving, staring at the door where his mother formerly stood.

•⚔•

𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙...

As the crowned Queen, Rhaenyra, planned their attack for the future, Daemon was pulled aside by a messenger. The man with the news whispered into the Rogue Prince's ear, informing him of Lucerys' death and the missing princess. Daemon waved off the man and let his head fall limply against the stone wall, winding his arm back and fisting the wall with a scream of fury and agony. Daemon did not dislike Lucerys, he was truly like a son to him, but [Name] was his legitimate daughter, his blood. His outburst attracted the attention of those in the other room surrounding the painted table.

Daemon—bloody fist and all—walked around the table that shed a glow of orange, mapping out the realm. He pulled his Queen over to the fireplace and leaned in, his chest still rising vigorously. When Daemon told Rhaenyra the news, she could feel her heart pounding in her own ears, she saw through her eyes with a red lens and she breathed through her nose maddeningly. The Queen turned to the guests at the table, knocking the pieces on the floor with a pained scream. Jacaerys stared at his mother, using his intelligence to decipher what made his mother so angry.

"Mother? Where's Lucerys? What about [Name], where is she? Mother, where's my sister!" Jace slammed his fist against the wooden table, tears threatening to fall as he struggled to keep them in. Rhaenyra ignored her son's outburst and stormed out of the room and outside, where Syrax nested. To see his wife ride on dragon-back with murderous intent would normally make Daemon grin with glee, but his daughter has vanished and he does not know if she's lying around in a corpses body.

The guests ran out of Dragonstone, following their Queen's order to ride on dragon and intrude the barrier of the Red Keep. Rhaenyra was clouded by bloodlust, her mind spinning at a dangerous pace. Her ears clogged with the blaring sound of the wind and the voices in her head saying to burn everything down; to kill them all. Daemon rides beside his Queen, his wife, and the mother of his children, his mind in the same headspace except the madness was slowly slipping out of control.

In the Red Keep, [Name] sat beside her windowsill like the morning of her mother's miscarriage. She's kept herself in her chamber since she was brought back to King's Landing. When the handmaids brought food and water, she ignored them. When the Queen asked for her presence and sent a guard, she ignored them. When Aemond knocked on her door and asked to talk, she ignored him. But when she saw a flock of dragons headed towards King's Landing she didn't ignore it. She pushed the lounger out of the way and ran through the halls, making it to the courtyard before she was grabbed and pulled back.

Ser Criston caged her in his arms with a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the Dragonpit. The Queen awaited her, along with three of her children; Halaena, Aegon, and Aemond. Alicent signaled to Ser Criston to release the princess, whom when was free turned sharply and punched the knight in his nose. She shook her hand, trying to alleviate the pain then turned back to the four that stood in front of her.

"I apologize, Princess, but I must have you stay here. Your presence on the battlefield would only cause more tension between the families, and possibly more bloodshed." Alicent held her by her shoulders, looking at her scarred eye and running a thumb across it. "When this battle has been won, no matter who ends up on top, we will allow you freedom, but until then you must stay hidden. Not as a hostage but as someone who must be protected." Alicent looked to her youngest son and nodded, Aemond placing iron cuffs on his betrothed whom didn't even put up a fight.

Aemond walked his wife-to-be to Balerion's skull and sat her down, allowing her what little rest she could get. The princess leaned against the shrine, her head resting against the pale bricks as she closed her eyes. Aemond paced back and forth in front of her, contemplating if he should say something. Anything to get her to talk to him. The prince ceased his pacing and glided over to the princess in chains. He kneeled before her and grabbed hold of the chain link that bound her wrists.

"Hear me, my dear, for I'm choosing to commit treason for you." Aemond whispered to her, keying the locks on the cuffs. When the heavy metal fell from her wrists, Aemond rubbed his thumbs over them, kissing the reddening skin. "When you leave, don't come back for me. Stay away from King's Landing until your last days. Do not yearn for me." Aemond kissed her lips, softly but sensually, and caressed her cheek before pushing her back toward the door, telling her to run from him, to run to her family.

The princess cried for her lover, their interlocked hands lingering at the fingertips when she pulls away. Tears streaming down her cheeks before she runs to the surface of the Dragonpit and to the castle where her mother awaits her. When the princess arrives, the battle has already begun. A brigade is stood in front of the castle gate to keep anyone without a dragon from escaping or intruding from the outside.

"Rhaenyra! Enough with this- this madness! You're being ridiculous!" Alicent hid behind Ser Criston whom shielded her from Rhaenyra's threatening hands and her husband's murderous stare. "Don't you realize how unreasonable you're being? Aemond meant no harm! It was supposed to be all in good fun! Please, Rhaenyra, call off your dragons!" The Queen Regent, Alicent begged the Queen Rhaenyra, pleading with her.

"You killed my son! You took my daughter and imprisoned her! I should take one of yours, to make it fair." Syrax spread her wings, giving the allusion that they were binded to the back of Rhaenyra. Alicent ordered her guards to protect Aegon, still hiding behind Ser Criston, while trying to negotiate with the Mad Queen. Syrax hobbled closer to Rhaenyra, hovering just above her, waiting for her to to give the order.

"Fair? Was it fair when your son took Aemond's eye and didn't lose one in return? You talk about fairness yet you slither your way out of the consequences!" Alicent fumed. Rhaenyra was about to give the order when her eyes took notice of the blind one staring back at her, fear laced in the woman's expression. Distracted by her daughter's presence, Rhaenyra did not see Aegon unsheathe his sword, charging toward her. Out of instinct and last minute decisions, [Name] ran to her mother, shielding her from the whetted blade pointed at her.

Aemond ran through door and hall to get to the courtyard, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, readying himself to pierce any man in his way. When the one-eyed prince made his entrance, his face fell at the vision of his brother's sword pierced into the back of his lover, whom was gripping at her mother's shoulders trying to keep herself upright. Aemond froze in his stance, his eye of violet narrowing in on the body of his betrothed. Mahogany seeped through the cloth she wore, soaking it from the waist, up.

Aegon the Second dropped his sword to the dust, backing up little by little until Aemond pushed through the bodies that crowded in front of the princess. Rhaenyra dropped to her knees with the body of her child, trembling hands pushing strands of platinum hair from her face. Droplets of tears splattered against her face, looking up to see her mother's sore eyes. The princess smiled weakly at her mother, wrapping both arms around her mother's neck to pull her close, wanting to feel the maternal warmth only Rhaenyra could give her.

"Forgive me, Mother. I should've protected Lucerys, but protecting you was the least I could do..." Her hushed voice whispered to her mother whom held her daughter tightly, lips involuntarily quivering. Daemon watched from the back of Caraxes as his daughter lay, dying, in her mother's arms. His stare blank, but his heart breaking. Resting limply once more, the princess turned to look at Aemond, as did the rest of the company standing in the courtyard. She held her hand out to him, disregarding the sharp glare of swords her mother gave him.

"Aemond, my darling, I want to get married. Right here, right now." Aemond closed his seeing eye, shaking his head and bringing his trembling hands to wrap around her body, stealing her from the arms of Rhaenyra. The one-eyed prince carried her back into the castle to stand before the Iron Throne, calling for a maester to wed them. As the two said their vows, their family spectating behind them, they sealed their marriage with a kiss. It was full of longing, tasting of death and life, a perfect balance.

When the prince pulled away, he expected to see her smiling lips, her eyes open with glee, but instead they were dull. Lifeless. Aemond held her against his chest and carried her once more to the Silent Sisters, asking them to wrap her with golden ribbons, only fit for a woman of her heroics. The Silent Sisters brought out the mummified princess, the Targaryen and Hightower family gathering upon the hill that sat behind King's Landing, looking over the raging sea. Rhaenys, Corlys and their granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena gave their respects, Rhaenys bowing to the only person she truly had faith in.

Alicent and Halaena next, Aegon standing behind them, too ashamed to pay his respects directly but doing so internally. Daemon, Rhaenyra and Jacaerys clustered close, all three placing a hand on the wrappings of their daughter and sister. And lastly, Aemond, who had yet to shed his tears, waiting until he's alone to let his resolve break and his vulnerability to show. The prince did the honors of sending the Targaryen princess to the gods. Uttering "Dracarys" to Vhagar who bellowed sorrowfully before sending her flame to the princess' corpse.

It was during this moment, when the Targaryens and Hightowers were occupied with the ceremony of [Name]'s passing, did she ever feel truly at peace. Her marriage to Aemond still validated by her heart—and his—and how it took her death to finally bring the families together, even if just for a night. Where the Queens really looked at each other, saw each other. Where brothers and sister were truly siblings, where uncles and nephews and nieces got along. Where two families were at the beginning of their reconciliation, their path to becoming one.

Taglist

@daddysfavoritesexkitten @dudfahsn @hey-airam @motherofdragons1998 @kittykylax @icarusignite @lilithskywalker @mintyard @omgsuperstarg @pinkybee926 @helloitsshitzulover @bobamai1 @applepyesworld @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @caspianobsessed @sonnensplitter @sqrlgrl22 @solorubyjane @amethystwonders11 @marytvirgin @aphroditeisamilf @ephemeralninon @fairyunhappy @mikasakuchiki @shine101 @let-love-bleeds-red @zgzgzh @lilostif16 @landlockedmermaid77 @m1ndbrand @grippleback-galaxy @jeyramarie @gaemon-palehair @padfooteyes @bietchz @moiraiofheroes @stargaryenx @cypherpt5fttaehyung @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

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georgeharrisonsmiling · 23 days

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I know it was mostly John overreacting but I cannot stop thinking how things would have turned up if George had mentioned John's contribution to Taxman in his book. They could have been on good terms before the tragedy.

John was in a mood during those and I don't think one additional mention would have prevented that issue. What John wanted was George's public admissions that no one had helped him more than John. Even if there was a casual line about Taxman, there still would be whole paragraphs about Dylan and how they wrote together; Ravi would still be mentioned as the person he admired most; the collaborations with Clapton would still be longer than John's contributions., etc.

This is what Jack Douglas (producer of John's album) said about it:

He was pissed off at George because George’s book had come out and didn’t mention John. You know, like, “How can he write a book about his life and not mention me? I’m the most important…” Yeah.

I still find it ironic that one of his last interviews, where he is lashing out, is used as proof that they were never that close when John wanted the exact opposite of it. Even Paul used those moments to say that George and John were fighting until the end.

#ask #the beatles #john lennon #george harrison #lennison

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collegetennisoriginstory · 9 months

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kind of cringe (and by cringe i mean transphobic and antisemitic) to be talking about harry potter when rowling is a well known transphobe and antisemite and trans and jewish people have been saying for a year+ now to stop talking about this series and this author, giving them a platform and keeping them relevant and in the public conscious. i really really like this game and enjoy your writing, but if you cant do the bare minimum of allyship for your trans and jewish readers then i wont be able to keep supporting this game. very disappointing, i hope you can grow and do better

First up, I think you make a very important point in needing to caveat that we disagree with an author's stances/views (I absolutely do not condone Rowling as a person nor her transphobic / antisemitic stances) especially because NOT doing so would, as you say, continue to keep their books in the public consciousness. I've added this caveat to the original post :)

My bottom line is still: I stand with trans people, and Jewish people, and I cannot abide by the things Rowling has said and done and I fully see those deeds and words as an attack on people I care about. I think, like you said, it's important in this climate to reiterate this strongly, and unequivocally. There's no nuance needed here.

However, I think discussion of the author's work ALONGSIDE discussion of the author's transphobic / antisemitic comments can sometimes be more fruitful than simply erasing all traces of this person's existence, because discussion is (to me) always more constructive than erasure.

In other words, I believe documenting / sharing reasons for one's censure is almost as important as the act of cancelling / not supporting the author (because ultimately, statements like "I do not support Rowling's stance on xxx because xxx" will spark important changes to societal attitudes far more than simple silence will—as the latter will simply be an absence rather than a presence of careful, measured discourse.

I have always engaged with both the asks/messages I agree with and disagree with, and I have always been honest and unflinching in my replies. I understand that you might have a different view ("all talk about a work is bad/too much talk", for instance), but I think there is room for us to respectfully disagree on that.

I will continue to engage where I have the energy and time to do so, because I believe these conversations are the only way we can prevent society from becoming echo chambers / isolated, polarised camps. Censorship (including self-censorship with the intention to withdraw support from something) to me is far more nefarious than robust disagreement/dissent (in the vein of George Orwell's 1984 and Swyngedouw's argument that the absence of disagreement is the state of "post-democracy", where everything is always already decided.)

P.S. I think discussion of an author's shitty stances, and reiteration of allyship has to be done alongside cutting off all material / financial support for said author. I'm more than down with the latter. I am fully in the camp of not watching/reading/buying the books and movies, but I do believe continued discussion of the work and the author's stances go hand-in-hand with this.

Cheers!

#college tennis: origin story #ct:os #interactive fiction #if

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laiqualaurelote · 2 months

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If these haven't been asked yet for the ask game: M and P!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I had this wild idea for an Accidental Baby Acquisition fic in which Crystal has an unplanned pregnancy (this is about 10 years after the events of Dead Boy Detectives and she's in her mid-20s) and though she has no desire to involve the father (yet another of her douchebag exes) she decides she does want to have the baby. Charles is thrilled because baby! but also terrified because what if it turns out he's like his dad after all? Edwin goes through the five stages of grief in 24 hours, from denial ("this agency cannot afford to have a baby! how will Crystal get any work done?" "this is why we should have had the maternity leave discussion a long time ago, Edwin" "what the bloody hell is maternity leave?!") to acceptance (Charles: "Let me talk to him. You go get some sleep." Crystal comes back the next morning to find the entire office covered in books on pregnancy and that Edwin has already drawn up diet plans/classical music playlists/the baby's entire linguistic education pathway. Charles: "I tried to stop him. Really I did." Edwin, hysterical: "We are doing this right! We are going to have the best baby!" Crystal: "Oh God.")

Also ft:

the Night Nurse's horrified realisation that she is actually going to have to midwife Crystal through this thing

Jenny's horrified realisation that she is now an aunt. Great-aunt, even

Crystal's ancestors having way too many opinions on the whole process

"Edwin Payne, you stay the fuck out of my womb!"

Crystal going into labour while on a case, in another dimension

Charles cutting the umbilical cord with his magic sword and bursting into tears upon getting to hold the baby for the first time

Crystal insisting on breastfeeding during client consultations (Victorian gentleman ghost: "This is an outrage, madam!" Edwin: "Sir, if you are unable to take your eyes off my colleague's breasts then I suggest you take your plaint elsewhere. This is a progressive workplace.")

Edwin attempting to solve mastitis through magic

the boys taking the baby on nighttime excursions so Crystal can get some sleep

the baby loves being in the backpack (Charles' theory is that it reminds her of being in the womb. Crystal: "Charles Rowland, do not put my fucking baby into the same bag as that bomb!" Edwin: "Crystal! Language!")

at some point they discover the baby is an interdimensional being which is a whole other headache

Charles keeps referring to all this as "the Infamous Baby Debacle of 2034" and nobody can make him stop

The last chapter would be from the child's POV:

"Hi my name is Niko Surname von Hoverkraft and I can travel between dimensions. My mom is the most powerful woman in the world. My godfathers are dead and I'm not allowed to talk about it. I'm not related to Niko Sasaki but I wish I were because she's so pretty and it snows all the time in her dimension. I was walking outside in London with my godfathers. It was London so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of people stared at me, I guess because they can't see my godfathers so it looks like I'm talking to myself. I put up my middle finger at them."

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

Everyone thinks I'm an architect - I would love to think of myself as an architect - but actually I plan very little in advance. I think the best metaphor would be architect-gardener, in that I build a little trellis and let the story grow on it how it will.

Thank you for playing this fic ask game!

#procrasktination #dead boy detectives #tw: pregnancy

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obrother1976 · 11 months

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hii would you have any book recs similar to the carnivorous lamb? just finished it recently and i literally cannot stop thinking about it......

wish i could rec u something that will hit as hard as carnivorous lamb does. but i cant. nothing can compare (in my opinion) but i can rec u some books depending on what u liked best/what u enjoyed in carnivorous lamb:

incest:

gemini by michel tournier - hard to get into but very worth it

house of incest by anais nin - short but so good u'll tear your hair out afterwards

ada or ardor: a family chronicle by vladimir nabokov - cant believe nabokov invented real love w this one

catholicism:

the sparrow by mary doria russell - book of all time & although i obv wouldn't call it a catholic book, i still think someone that liked carnivorous lamb would love this.

concerning the eccentricities of cardinal pirelli by ronald firbank - currently reading this & dont yet fully know what to make of it but its definitely interesting enough to check out.

fascism:

(bit of a disclaimer: none of these are specifically about spanish fascism. sorry. if you're really interested in the franco regime u could read george orwell's "homage to catalonia" but other than that i got nothing for u there)

fear and misery in the third reich by bertholt brecht & the resistable rise of arturo ui (also by brecht) - this is me pushing my brecht agenda (even tho these r plays and not technically books). love brecht's depictions of fascism though, esp in fear and misery

on the frontier: a melodrama in three acts by isherwood & auden - another play

death in venice by thomas mann - alright so this one's a bit tricky. its not technically about fascism (it was written in 1912) but i've seen a number of academic essays that make a case for reading it that way -> the degeneration of europe into fascism. in any case, great book, great prose and although its not actually incestuous, it v obviously plays with the theme of incest

fathers:

incest: from a "journal of love": the unexpurgated diary of anais nin - a classic.

winter of artifice by anais nin - no one got it quite like she did

mathilda by mary shelley - anon, listen to this: "I copied his last letter and read it again and again. Sometimes it made me weep; and at other [times] I repeated with transport those words,—"One day I may claim her at your hands." I was to be his consoler, his companion in after years."

dreams of clytemnestra by dacia maraini - a play again. but trust me on this one, it'll drive u insane.

mothers:

milk fed by melissa broder - actually havent read this one but my (redacted) loves it and it does sound rlly interesting (also i dont know any other books specifically about mothers... sad.)

#(redacted) -> bc im not saying the word situationship in a serious tumblr post lmao #also anon look into the comments. some v good recs there #anon we're suffering from the same carnivorous lamb induced disease. theres a reason y i've read it three times.#i'll come back to this if i find more books #also anon. listen to chapel. married in mount airy. and heart shaped bed by nicole dollanganger. trust me #ask

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yzeltia · 14 days

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FFXIVwrite2024 8. Wedding Vows

Characters: U'rahn Nuhn, Postmoogle

Expansion: Endwalker(Timeline Wise, Otherwise Irrelvant)

Rating: G

Summary: U'rahn practices for his big day with his biggest antagonist.

Notes: Freeday prompt given to me by @beyond-mortal-limits

*Based on Shakespeare's Sonnet 18

**Based on George Michael's Father Figure

“Alright! Have we started? Now remember, only write the stuff down that I’m saying for the vows. You don’t have to write it all down…you better not be writing this down…Augh. Anyway. My Vows….My vows….Let’s try:

“Nyx, I’ve loved you since you first took your hand and led you to go do all the stuff Zoissette didn’t want me to do with me…-

“Yes it was a date for someone else? Why? What do you mean that’s lame. Don’t you kupo at me! I’m paying you to write stuff not give me dating advice! Let’s try again. …Maybe traditional?”

“I, U’rahn Nuhn, take you, Nyx Blackmoon, for my eternally bonded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do…well, until death do I part. I will love and enrich you all the days of my life.

“How’s that? What do you mean ‘lame, kupo?’!? It’s traditional! …Okay …Nyx is not a traditional bride but that doesn’t matter cause they’re going to be the most beautiful and special brrride there’s ever been. Don’t ‘Sure, kupo!’ at me! It’s trrrue! But you’re right…Nyx loves me for my orrriginality and that I enrrrich them…Maybe poetry? I can be poetic! Urianger taught me sonnets after Nyx taught me Haiku!!…Can too! Oh yeah!?

“Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Night?

Thou art more um…lovely and temperature

Rough winds do shake my darling buddies in May

And Summer’s heat hath all too short a date,

Sometimes too hot the eye of Nidhogg shines

And often is gold and complex and I’m dimmed,

And every faerie from faerie sometimes decides

By chance of nature’s changing course to their whim…d

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of thou wanderer’s shade

When in eternal bonds to time thou grow’st

So long as Nuhn can breathe or eyes can see

So long lives this one, and he gives his life to thee-* Stop laughing!

“I swear, moogles are nothing but trouble. That was really good! Yes, I recited it perfectly from the book that Urianger gave me! No I didn’t guess! Just keep your comments to yourself and help write down my vows or I’ll feed you to a sandworm!

“Now…if poems won’t work. How about a song:

“That's all you wanted

Something special, someone enriching

In your life-

Just for one moment

To be warm and naked

At my side-

Sometimes I think that you'll never

Understand me

But something tells me together

We'd be happy, oh-oh, baby

I will be your Nuhn figure

Put your tiny hand in mine

I will be your preacher teacher

Anything you have in mind-”**

“What? That off key? …Yeah, I’m not very good. Maybe if I asked Big Bro Erick or Big Bro Thancred to back me up in the vocals? No? Yeah…no. I can even admit I’m not the best singer. Alright. Fine…What do you think I should do? … … … Ah…I can try that…:

“Nyx…When I’m around you I feel invincible…Not like my normal invincibility, but like, y’know, that I could do anything and everything I put my mind to. Even the stuff that I’m super bad at. I know I’m not the smartest or wisest guy out there but you never hold that against me and when I meet something that I can’t overcome, you let me try until I ask for help. You never judge me or put me down. I feel so seen and loved around you.

“And…well, it’s no secret my family is super important to me. You’ve fit right in with us in your own Nyx way. I know that if something ever happened to me, you’d be there to watch over them where I cannot. I named my first daughter after you ‘cause I don’t know anyone more strong and beautiful that I would want her to look up to.

“So uh, what I’m trying to say is that I’ll always love you…And I promise, as long as I draw breath, to keep enriching you and making every day be filled with new, fun experiences when we are together.

“Why are you crying? Me? I’m not crying? I just got stuff in my eye! It was good though wasn’t it? Let’s stick with that version….C’mon, I’ll get you a kuponut.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv oc #ff14 #ff xiv #ffxiv miqo'te #u'rahn nuhn #Deputy Postmoogle #ffxivwrite2024

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kingsmoot · 2 months

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20 & 21 for both hot d and song

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

asoiaf - battles yes including and especially the battle of the blackwater also every davos chapter

hotd - any time that matt and emma spend on screen together 😬

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

the dragons for both i'm sorry they're fuuuuuggglllllyyyyyyyyy in hbogot and hotd i cannot stand their design and the awkward video game cgi with 0% practical anything if they had been puppets i would be obsessed w them but alas. i did of course cry irl at hotd 02.05 i yam only human but immediately after that i stopped caring again. i am also against george's thing about how dragons cannot have four legs and wings because no living animal has six appendages ok well then first of all, george, they would be wyverns. and second of all they are imaginary so them having six appendages is cool and part of the magic come on man work with me here. i also care about dany's dragons in the books when they are sad for the same reason jaime and theon care about dogs and horses. but as soon as they are not locked up in a pit i'm like ok they're fine. they're alright. but they don't compell me. AND I AM NOT A DRAGON HATER DRAGONS HAVE BEEN MY FAVORITE ANIMAL SINCE I WAS THREE. IT'S JUST THESE PARTICULAR ONES I DON'T CARE FOR.

#ask tag

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ilynpilled · 2 years

Text

Aerys & Cersei

I have seen some posts recently that want to paint Dany as the Aerys parallel in the story, as opposed to Cersei, and I want to pick that apart, and argue why it is detrimental to the respective stories of multiple characters, as well as pretty thematically incoherent.

Putting this quote by George in here as a given, as it will be relevant to the content in here:

"Fire is love, fire is passion, fire is sexual ardor and all of these things. Ice is betrayal, ice is revenge, ice is that kind of cold inhumanity and all that stuff is being played out in the books."

Thematically, Dany becoming an Aerys parallel is awful because of the bio essentialist undertones it has. I’ll put a link to the post that goes more in depth into this at the end of this. This is going to be rather long.

People use this argument for the Dany parallel for some reason: later, wildfire in many ways also functions as the Targs’ attempt to recreate dragons (Aerys is the most glaring example). To recreate lost magic, lost power. There are many historical stories of this destroying some of them. When you have a family be the head of a violent construct, like feudalistic hierarchies, it should not shock anyone how power can get corrupted. That is how I always viewed wildfire: the corrupted version of fire. It is an attempt to recreate power. Dany already has dragonfire, she literally brought them back into the world, she already has “power”, and she is learning to wield it (dragons, like power, can be wielded in different ways: plus they are living beings, I think this is key when comparing them with wildfire and its symbolic implications) Cersei’s story foils this in so many ways. Fire already has a rich duality in this series: life vs death, emancipation vs corruption, light vs destruction etc. Now let me get into the role fire & light plays in Cersei’s story:

She is associated with fire and passion in the text. She has a hunger for many things, power, love, respect and so on. She seems to mirror wildfire (directly as per Jaime’s description: “She had been a pretty girl, in truth; dimpled and delicate, with long auburn hair. Timid, though. Prone to tongue-tied silences and fits of giggles, with none of Cersei's fire.” , “Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. [….] her fury had been fearful to behold. She does not lack for wits, but she has no judgment, and no patience.”) She feels that that fire, that power, is absent in her life, leaving her in darkness and turning her ice cold.

By the time they left Maegor's Holdfast, the sky had turned a deep cobalt blue, though the stars still shone. All but one, Cersei thought. The bright star of the west has fallen, and the nights will be darker now. She paused upon the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat, gazing down at the spikes below. They would not dare lie to me about such a thing. "Who found him?"' "One of his guards," said Ser Osmund. "Lum. He felt a call of nature, and found his lordship in the privy." No, that cannot be. That is not the way a lion dies. The queen felt strangely calm. She remembered the first time she had lost a tooth, when she was just a little girl. It hadn't hurt, but the hole in her mouth felt so odd she could not stop touching it with her tongue. Now there is a hole in the world where Father stood, and holes want filling.

Tywin is both a symbol and a person that governs so much of Cersei and her relationship with the world. He owned her, a misogynistic traditionalist that sold her and moved her like a chess piece, with no regard to how it would affect her. He did not allow her individualization solely because of her gender. She even thinks he is in hell in her first AFfC chapter, likely for a multitude of reasons. Yet, Cersei aims to emulate his example. She seeks to fill the hole that he left. She wants to prove to him that she is worthy, even in his death. More so than his sons. His absence means darkness to her, because he and his conditioning is all that she knows. She thinks this is the key to recreating that absent fire. This also juxtaposes Jaime’s thoughts when he looks up the same stars. He associates Tywin with death and a feast for crows. He acknowledges that the sun has set, but he does not connect that light to Tywin, and he also thinks about the faint light of distant stars instead. They also come to drastically different conclusions about the worth of a crown. Cersei is repeatedly associated with death, and I do not think it is just about her own doom, but the feast for crows that she will bring about.

The queen could feel the heat of those green flames. The pyromancers said that only three things burned hotter than their sub-stance: dragonflame, the fires beneath the earth, and the summer sun. Some of the ladies gasped when the first flames appeared in the windows, licking up the outer walls like long green tongues. Others cheered, and made toasts. It is beautiful, she thought, as beautiful as Joffrey, when they laid him in my arms. No man had ever made her feel as good as she had felt when he took her nipple in his mouth to nurse. Tommen stared wide-eyed at the fires, as fascinated as he was frightened, until Margaery whispered something in his ear that made him laugh. Some of the knights began to make wagers on how long it would be before the tower collapsed. Lord Hallyne stood humming to himself and rocking on his heels. Cersei thought of all the King's Hands that she had known through the years: Owen Merryweather, Jon Connington, Qarlton Chelsted, Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, her brother Tyrion. And her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, her father most of all. All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

Mind you this seed was already planted in ASoS:

Jaime curled up beneath his cloak, hoping to dream of Cersei. But when he closed his eyes, it was Aerys Targaryen he saw, pacing alone in his throne room.

Then, this is as clear cut of an Aerys parallel as it can get. People use Jaime’s description of Aerys and his relationship with fire, and try to project that onto Dany:

“Aerys would have bathed in it if he'd dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire.”

The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him…. that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash. (Beyond obvious how well this fits with Cersei’s current and pending situation like lets be serious) :

I am Cersei of House Lannister, a lion of the Rock, the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister. And hair grows back.

My crown, the queen thought. They took the other crown away from me, and now they are stealing this one as well.

I should not have done this. I was their queen, but now they've seen, they've seen, they've seen. I should never have let them see. Gowned and crowned, she was a queen. Naked, bloody, limping, she was only a woman, not so very different from their wives, more like their mothers than their pretty little maiden daughters. What have I done?

“He has sworn that he will not speak until all of His Grace's enemies are dead and evil has been driven from the realm.”

Yes, thought Cersei Lannister. Oh, yes.

People take the Targaryen aspect at face value, because they love to pick and choose at what times they want him to be an entirely reliable narrator. Again, Aerys never had dragons, he wanted to recreate them. It is not hard to actually navigate Jaime’s bias here as a result of his trauma, especially considering what Jaime himself thinks of Rhaegar (Rhaegar is not a Targ mad with fire in his mind but the ”good king that never was” lol) and the brutal death of his children at the hands of his family. (Aerys trauma affecting judgement regarding bloodlines was present when he almost pulled a #targrestoration for the trolling after they found him and asked him to name a king and he almost named a Targ as king and his father as hand bc it would make Robert #mad and thats funny until he got Aerys PTSD. He fears the ghost of Aerys returning more than anything else. It is a priority over his family’s interests, even back then). Again, the text is not actually bio essentialist, Jaime just has a very intense and dark relationship with Aerys and immense trauma that affects his logic. Not to mention, again, all that Aerys and some other Targs craved, Dany already achieved naturally. I just find it very funny how some of you people pick and choose when you want this man to be a reliable narrator depending on your agenda. Trust it is actually not that hard to figure it out when he is bullshitting in his thoughts or his words. Just look for contradictory actions or words, or whether his trauma and dissociative tendencies are relevant. Also why would you agree with the logic of “inherently evil and mad bloodline” said by the guy who is currently also convinced that he and his twin are one soul in two bodies who are tied together by fate?

Then, Jaime himself makes an actually reliable connection between Aerys and Cersei. No bloodline bullshit here. Cersei is literally his twin.

"That would be an even greater folly than burning the Tower of the Hand. So long as Tommen sits the Iron Throne, the realm sees him as the true king. Hide him under the Rock and he becomes just another claimant to the throne, no different than Stannis.”

"I am aware of that," the queen said sharply. "I said that I wanted to move the court to Lannisport, not that I would. Were you always this slow, or did losing a hand make you stupid?"

Jaime ignored that. "If these flames spread beyond the tower, you may end up burning down the castle whether you mean to or not. Wildfire is treacherous.'

"Lord Hallyne has assured me that his pyromancers can control the fire. The Guild of Alchemists had been brewing fresh wildfire for a fortnight. "Let all of King's Landing see the flames. It will be a lesson to our enemies."

"Now you sound like Aerys."

Her nostrils flared. “Guard your tongue, ser"

"I love you too, sweet sister."

How could I ever have loved that wretched creature? she wondered after he had gone. He was your twin, your shadow, your other half, another voice whispered. Once, perhaps, she thought. No longer. He has become a stranger to me. (Interesting that Jaime repeatedly associates Cersei with death directly, be it subconscious or conscious, and Cersei makes an accidental connection but not a deliberate one)

Other than the obvious fascination with wildfire, Cersei also aims to hurt him here with Kettleblack, because she is uncomfortable with losing her tool, and also because she is losing a source of warmth/love:

Cersei beckoned to Jaime. "Lord Commander, escort His Grace and his little queen to their pillows, if you would.

"As you command. And you as well?"

"No need." Cersei felt too alive for sleep. The wildfire was cleansing her, burning away all her rage and fear, filling her with resolve. “The flames are so pretty. I want to watch them for a while.”

Jaime hesitated. “You should not stay alone.”

"I will not be alone. Ser Osmund can remain with me and keep me safe. Your Sworn Brother"

"If it please Your Grace,” said Kettleblack.

“It does.” Cersei slid her arm through his, and side by side they watched the fire rage.

We have access to Jaime’s thoughts:

Jaime knew the look in his sister's eyes. He had seen it before, most recently on the night of Tommen's wedding, when she burned the Tower of the Hand. The green light of the wildfire had bathed the face of the watchers, so they looked like nothing so much as rotting corpses, a pack of gleeful ghouls, but some of the corpses were prettier than others. Even in the baleful glow, Cersei had been beautiful to look upon. She'd stood with one hand on her breast, her lips parted, her green eyes shining. She is crying, Jaime had realized, but whether it was from grief or ecstasy he could not have said. The sight had filled him with disquiet, reminding him of Aerys Targaryen and the way a burning would arouse him.

Jaime is aware and is bitter about that, but he hones in on a completely different thing. The bitterness over the cheating takes a backseat to him noticing the ghost of Aerys being present in Cersei. Then, this parallel keeps going. Right after Jaime makes a direct parallel between Aerys and Cersei, as well as associating her with death and corpses again, his thoughts drift to Aerys and his skewed relationship with wildfire & sex. Fire is passion, yes, sexual ardor, but again, wildfire is a corrupted version of fire.

whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. The day he burned his mace-and-dagger Hand, Jaime and Jon Darry had stood at guard outside her bedchamber whilst the king took his pleasure. "You're hurting me,” they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. "You're hurting me." In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted's screaming. "We are sworn to protect her as well," Jaime had finally been driven to say. "We are," Darry allowed, "but not from him." Jaime had only seen Rhaella once after that, the morning of the day she left for Dragonstone. The queen had been cloaked and hooded as she climbed inside the royal wheelhouse that would take her down Aegon's High Hill to the waiting ship, but he heard her maids whispering after she was gone. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts. A crowned beast, Jaime knew.

"And this?" Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers.The Myrish woman gave a gasp of pain.

"You're hurting me."

"It's just the wine. I had a flagon with my supper, and another with the widow Stokeworth. I had to drink to keep her calm." She twisted Taena's other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. "I am the queen I mean to claim my rights.”

"Do what you will.” Taena's hair was as black as Robert's, even down between her legs, and when Cersei touched her there she found her hair all sopping wet, where Robert's had been coarse and dry.

"Please,” the Myrish woman said, "go on, my queen. Do as you will with me. I'm yours.” But it was no good. She could not feel it, whatever Robert felt on the nights he took her. There was no pleasure in it, not for her.

She gasped some words in a foreign tongue, then shuddered again and arched her back and screamed. She sounds as if she is being gored, the queen thought. For a moment she let herself imagine that her fingers were a bore's tusks, ripping the Myrish woman apart from groin to throat. It was still no good. It had never been any good with anyone but Jaime.

Cersei seeks to achieve catharsis. She is exploring her own trauma. She wants to derive catharsis from emulating power. From emulating violent men, emulating Robert. But she experiences no pleasure. She experiences no catharsis. This is not enough. This is not what she is looking for. All she has is the fire.

Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce.

This is what Cersei, like Aerys, will want to achieve in a metaphorical and in some ways literal sense. But with wildfire. It won’t work obviously, but it is all that she has.

Now lets talk about Cersei and swords.

Jaime, above most else, functioned as her sword. He was an extension of her, a weapon she desperately needed in order to punish others, and simultaneously protect herself. It was power. She immediately takes note of it when physical and internal change in Jaime is present:

"He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you." He made to touch her cheek. Old habits die hard, and it was his right arm he lifted. Cersei recoiled from his stump.

"Don't ... don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?"

"They cut off my hand."

"No, it's more, you're changed." She backed off a step.

Jaime hugged her, his good hand pressing against the small of her back. He smelled of ash, but the morning sun was in his hair, giving it a golden glow. She wanted to draw his face to hers for a kiss. Later, she told herself, later he will come to me, for comfort.

"We are his heirs, Jaime," she whispered. "It will be up to us to finish his work. You must take Father's place as Hand. You see that now, surely. Tommen will need you.”

He pushed away from her and raised his arm, forcing his stump into her face.

"A Hand without a hand? A bad jape, sister. Don't ask me to rule.”

"Your turn," she told him afterward. "Pull his mane, I dare you." He never did. I should have had the sword, not him. (Interesting symbolism as to which one of them is opposed to the lions and which one is not)

If Jaime had not lost his hand. That road led nowhere, though. Jaime's sword hand was gone, and so was he

Jaime may yet come. She pictured him riding through the morning mists, his golden armor bright in the light of the rising sun.

It should be Jaime beside me. He would draw his golden sword and slash a path right through the mob, carving the eyes out of the head of every man who dared to look at her.

Ofc, who she used the weapon against were usually victims, but that is a big part of Cersei as a character, and the whole commentary about victims & perpetrators. You can have an irredeemable and evil character that the patriarchy still suppresses and affects the psychology of immensely, rendering her a bigger monster. The commentary on the destructive capacity of static social constructs is not lost as a result. A character can turn into the devil of the story due to a world that ceaselessly strips her of her humanity, as well as as a result of the choices she actively makes. Cersei has shown to be capable of cruelty even before her trauma (how she treated Tyrion, her extreme narcissism, throwing her best friend down a well), but this does not change anything. Being a perpetrator does not negate her victimhood, and vice versa. It is also her stubbornness and power hunger that leave her to her ruin in a world that does not allow her the ‘freedom’ or ‘power’ that she desperately desires. It becomes the worst combination of nature and nurturer. Her sword is gone for good. The motif of “sunlight” is once again present. It turns his hair/armor gold. She craves the golden Jaime in golden armor, the Jaime from AGoT. But we know Jaime’s color symbolism is heading in a very different direction:

Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black.

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak . . ." ". . . is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough." “That wasn't . . . I was about to say that it becomes you”

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom.

“Gold? Or silver?" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. "All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white." She flicked the hair away. "I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

(Again, gold is heavy negative symbolism for Jaime, another indication that Goldenhand the Just is an obvious dead end, as I have discussed at length atp. It is an attempt to recreate his phantom and cover it up with a golden lie.)

Then, finally, the conclusion for Cersei during her rebirth:

A shadow fell across them both, blotting out the sun. The queen felt cold steel slide beneath her, a pair of great armored arms lifting her off the ground lifting her up into the air as easily as she had lifted Joffrey when he was still a babe.

This is the reason the sun gets blotted out at the end. I think that is a final statement on how he will never be her sword again. So now she needs a new sword. She has Robert Strong, and she has wildfire. Light & sun is repeatedly absent, and she lands in the cold darkness over and over again. She has associations with ice and wildfire. Unlike Jaime, who is often reborn in light & warmth (1. first POV: “sent them toward the pale pink dawn. After so long in darkness, the world was so sweet that Jaime Lannister felt dizzy. I am alive, and drunk on sunlight.” In contrast with Cersei’s first POV: her awakening in her dark chamber after a dream turned nightmare. 2. when the arakh kills his old self: “sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh”, 3. the steaming bath. Robert Strong also contrasts Brienne. Interesting that he lifts Cersei up into the air, while Brienne catches Jaime before he could fall. Robert Strong is “cold steel”, while Brienne’s touch is “warm” (noted twice by Jaime). “The cell began to darken. It was growing cold as well. Cersei began to shiver. How can they leave me like this, without so much as a fire? I am their queen.” Cersei on the other hand keeps being put or reborn in darkness, I assume this symbolically has meaning and is no coincidence. Plus, while Jaime chooses to cut his own hair, Cersei is forcefully stripped from it. What is also interesting is what the both of them have in the dark (Jaime’s weirwood dream) are the flames (for Jaime the flaming sword, for Cersei the torch, and later the wildfire).

Again, people want Jaime to be an unreliable narrator here, clouded by bitterness and hatred or something, but I really doubt that is the case. Again, the cheating takes a backseat, and that whole thing is more complicated anyways: it is primarily a catalyst that reveals to him how broken the illusion he created for himself about the relationship is at its very foundation. The whole idea of her love, which is so significant for him, is questioned. There are so many factors that play into their relationship falling apart (they both change, the hand loss, Jaime’s rejection of being Tywin’s heir, his desire to give up power and choose Cersei, while Cersei would never give up power for Jaime, him not understanding the nuances of that as Cersei is inherently more powerless bc of her status and she craves it desperately + differences in nature and experiences. + Cersei asking him to kill Tyrion. Again, they are fundamentally different. This is also a partial reason as to why Jaime rejected her advances post sept scene imo, even if he keeps making inconsistent excuses (location, the dead KG or his father, vows, judgement of the gods [he never really cared about this before: he is a reddit atheist, also did not stop him at the sept]). Some of this is before the cheating reveal.) Jaime does not harm her even if she repeatedly hits him, emasculates him, insults him (he mentioned that he already turned her blows to kisses before) etc. but there is violent anger within him about the cheating. I think this is because that is the one thing that truly creates a major hole in his self-conjured narrative about the relationship (we are one soul in two bodies, destined lovers), as well as something that recontextualizes all the awful things he had actively done to sustain it. Other than all that, let me talk about Jaime and eyes:

Jaime watched her eyes. Pretty eyes, he thought, and calm. He knew how to read a man's eyes.

Bolton's silence was a hundred times more threatening than Vargo Hoat's slobbering malevolence. Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. : Roose Bolton's eyes were paler than stone, darker than milk

He remembered Eddard Stark, riding the length of Aerys's throne room wrapped in silence. Only his eyes had spoken; a lord's eyes, cold and grey and full of judgment.

The clasp that pinned it to her breast was wrought in the shape of a wolf's head with slitted opal eyes. The girl's long brown hair blew wild in the wind. She had a pretty face, he thought, but her eyes were sad and wary. (makes his inaction [link] all the more terrible, his conscience is screaming at him)

"Blue is a good color on you, my lady," Jaime observed. "It goes well with your eyes." She does have astonishing eyes.

The queen's eyes were green ice. "You had best go, ser."

He remembered how Rossart's eyes would shine (another Cersei parallel) when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed.

With his grim face and deep-sunk hollow eyes, Ser Ilyn might have passed for death himself . . . as he had, for years.

Though his pox-scarred face was grim and his eyes as cold as ice on a winter lake, Jaime sensed that he was glad he'd come.

Sorry, but I am gonna trust what Jaime sees in her eyes at Tommen’s Wedding. His judgement tends to be very accurate. Eyes are the windows to the soul after all.

Every idea that I have discussed at length here is also present in Jaime’s dreams.

Down a twisting passageway he went, narrow steps carved from the living rock, down and down. I must go up, he told himself. Up, not down. Why am I going down? Below the earth his doom awaited, he knew with the certainty of dream; something dark and terrible lurked there, something that wanted him.

The steps ended abruptly on echoing darkness. Jaime had the sense of vast space before him. He jerked to a halt, teetering on the edge of nothingness. A spearpoint jabbed at the small of the back, shoving him into the abyss. He shouted, but the fall was short. He landed on his hands and knees, upon soft sand and shallow water. There were watery caverns deep below Casterly Rock, but this one was strange to him. "What place is this?"

"Your place." The voice echoed; it was a hundred voices, a thousand, the voices of all the Lannisters since Lann the Clever, who'd lived at the dawn of days. But most of all it was his father's voice, and beside Lord Tywin stood his sister, pale and beautiful, a torch burning in her hand. Joffrey was there as well, the son they'd made together, and behind them a dozen more dark shapes with golden hair.

"Sister, why has Father brought us here?"

"Us? This is your place, Brother. This is your darkness." Her torch was the only light in the cavern. Her torch was the only light in the world. She turned to go.

"Stay with me," Jaime pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone." But they were leaving. "Don't leave me in the dark!" Something terrible lived down here. "Give me a sword, at least."

“I gave you a sword," Lord Tywin said.

It was at his feet. Jaime groped under the water until his hand closed upon the hilt. Nothing can hurt me so long as I have a sword. As he raised the sword a finger of pale flame flickered at the point and crept up along the edge, stopping a hand's breath from the hilt.

—- Brienne shows up naked. Jaime cuts her chains. Gifts her a sword. etc.

Brienne's sword took flame as well, burning silvery blue. The darkness retreated a little more.

"The flames will burn so long as you live," he heard Cersei call. "When they die, so must you."

"Sister!" he shouted. "Stay with me. Stay!" There was no reply but the soft sound of retreating footsteps.

— Jaime and Brienne are left to face ghosts, lot of LN imagery and all that. Jaime’s sword’s fire goes out, Brienne’s still burns, he jerks awake before the ghosts rush him with his heart beating. Another moonlight motif happens after he wakes up on a “white stump” and he goes back for Brienne and saves her from the bear etc whatever no longer relevant to Cersei’s story imo

The Lannister legacy is associated with doom in Jaime’s subconscious. Cersei leaves with fire to join the Lannisters, specifically her son and father, and the imagery of death is so prevalent again.

This then mirrors Jaime’s other main dream, where his subconscious mind is communicating with him, right before he burns her letter. Again, overwhelming fire imagery. And it is fire that is destroying her. Like the letter, she is left to burn. First he mistakes his mother for Cersei, and then her leaving him parallels Cersei leaving in the fever dream. His mom, or his subconscious, also presents him with a key reality check:

One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. "In my dreams I always have two hands." He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.

"We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them."

This is in direct conversation with his last dream (I assume it is deconstructing it. Idk, Jaime, it is almost like Goldenhand the Just is not a real possibility): “Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia (we know what he thinks of Gregor, we know this is not good in his mind or ours, it is almost like his subconscious is telling him something). In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other.”

"I am a knight," he told her, "and Cersei is a queen."

A tear rolled down her cheek. The woman raised her hood again and turned her back on him. Jaime called after her, but already she was moving away, her skirt whispering lullabies as it brushed across the floor. Don't leave me, he wanted to call, but of course she'd left them long ago.

Both of their endeavors seem to be dead ends. Cersei is not gonna be the Queen that she always craved to be, despite having the title. Jaime is not and is not going to be the glorious knight, Goldenhand the Just, as he should conclude based on the Riverrun fiasco (this is also why I think Jaime’s very emphasized white/silver/grey replacing gold & crimson color symbolism is not about the KG, it is either something more abstract or it is about the Starks: “White is for the Starks. I’ll drink red like a good Lannister”, ntm how tied Arya is to JB through locations/brotherhood/stoneheart despite their desperate search for Sansa (pointless, she is at the Vale), and horses & wolves, the weirwood, the oath in general, and the fact that WW is half of Ice.) That is his attempt to recreate a fictive ideal that the boy he used to be dreamed of. That is not what true knighthood is about though. It was never about golden glory. These are golden lies. He knows too deep down. He has one hand. He has to look at the ugliness of the stump. It feels like Jaime realizes this, on a subconscious level certainly, and will pivot (especially after confronting what is essentially the embodiment of the worst product of the Lannister regime: a monster created by its sins, the cycle of violence itself, as well Jaime’s specific part in it: Stoneheart) at least I hope so, because that is how his arc would be functional, but Cersei remains steadfast. Also, Cersei remaining passive would feel like her character and the set up did not go anywhere. Whatever she will do with wildfire will be a grand act of agency, and her combatting the state she is in, it is gonna be a very corrupted and poetic act of destruction. She is essentially gonna set herself and the world on fire in order to battle the cold (her enemies, the people that hurt her, witnesses, and the innocents that are a victim to this whole cycle). That is what I would like to see. Jaime’s last AFfC chapter is also supposed to be a point of no return in some form. The idea of “opening the shutters”, winter, is so emphasized. The main reason certain retreading happens in ADwD that some people are obsessed with overanalyzing or misrepresenting (especially bc they need it desperately to justify “Jaime is drawn back to CR of all places to Cersei for no good reason other than he is a codependent addict” so they can get the wildfire + Cersei + KL out of the equation so Dany or whatever can be the Aerys parallel/mad evil kaboom boom person while there still being some lackluster follow through for all of Cersei’s set ups like valonqar etc) is because George’s editor told him to do some retreading with him since he took so long between books that the readers needed a reminder about where these characters were left:

so this entire passage had to be added in to cover these bases. When I read the Feast/Dance combined book it made me laugh how much this part was a “previously on Jaime Lannister.”

But again, he makes a clear choice, motivated by a concoction of things: he goes with Brienne, not back to his King, or back to Cersei. I think he is not ready to face Cersei yet and fears what he would do. I think so many dichotomies were being emphasized in this chapter: Tywin’s dogma, its results, the glory of pursuing the brotherhood, and how it all conflicts with Jaime’s arc in the subtext. I do not doubt he will land back there again, yes, George said they are effectively estranged, the romantic relationship is over, but that does not necessarily mean they will not meet again, nor that they will not hold any relevance in each other’s stories anymore. (Even if valonqar will not be literal, again, he has one hand, and he came to this conclusion in his dreams too in the end, and this fact very much comes in the way of the logistics of “the valonqar will wrap his hands”, if not only literally, certainly symbolically: even if it is the gold chain part two (was one not more than enough George???), I feel like Jaime would struggle with doing it with even that considering his hand situation.) Personally, I would prefer it if that part of the prophecy is subverted and it ends up not being an ex (or any other man for that matter) overpowering and murdering her. George had enough misses when it concerns some misogynistic writing in her storyline, it is 2023 now, so her death not being in anyway “gratifying” for misogynists (see aspects of the framing of Lysa’s death) would be my preference. I would love her death to be on her own terms. I made a parallel about her and Hedda Gabler before, and maybe something of that sort would be the best case scenario. She would rather take herself out in a blaze of glory than let the men (any valonqar, be it Tyrion, Jaime, Aegon etc) do it. That would be tragic as well as in some very dark way her reclaiming agency from fate itself. But honestly I doubt that is the direction George will go. Jaime will probably kill her, and it will be an incredibly grey act. Do not want that to be presented as straightforwardly heroic. I think it will be motivated by a lot of emotion and not just duty. Do not know how this entire situation will go down exactly. Also, really specific detail I noticed regarding prophecy wording, might not be deliberate:

“And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”

Sometimes he even wept, until he heard the Mummers laughing. Then he made his eyes go dry and his heart go dead, and prayed for his fever to burn away his tears. Now I know how Tyrion has felt, all those times they laughed at him.

Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …" Dany could not recall the child's name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away.

And then there was no stopping the tears. They burned down the queen's cheeks like acid.

To my knowledge, these three (+ Cat’s tears burning like vinegar) are the only characters with this specific phrasing present. Interesting anyway.

Also, I am wondering how much Cers will even trust Jaime atp. The sun is blotted out, that has to represent disillusionment, no? Ronnet Connington is also back at KL, we all know what Jaime did to that man when it concerned Brienne, and Cersei’s “he would never abandon me for such a creature. My letter must not have reached him” might entirely fall apart even more if he happens to tell her. Nonetheless, Widow’s Wail is still very much at the Red Keep, and that will have to land in Jaime’s hand(s). Also to further address the theory that the twins will be away from the wildfire and die together at CR since I mentioned it, I do not think the twins should go to The Rock. It is a place that Jaime repeatedly rejected, and Cersei is so closely tied to KL, the throne, and her kids are destined to die because of their crowns. Kevan wanted to return Cersei to The Rock, and what happened to him lol. “So long as Tommen sits the Iron Throne, the realm sees him as the true king. Hide him under the Rock and he becomes just another claimant to the throne, no different than Stannis.” “I am aware of that” the Queen said sharply.

I don’t know guys, doubt Cersei will want to hide under the Rock after what happened. Like you are telling me that Cersei, the one that reached into the lion’s cage, the human embodiment of wildfire, will passively accept all this? “That is not the way a lion dies.” So unless it is like a huge irony moment, which I would honestly like less, I do not think I see it or would like it happening. Also, Jaime is presented with the opportunity to die with Cers twice atp, once at the end of AFfC when the letter comes, and then at ADwD he is on his way back there. He ends up not taking it. In ASoS, when Brienne talks him out of passive suicide under the graceful crescent, he makes “Cersei needs me, I cannot die we need to die together”, “Tyrion who loves me for a lie needs me”, and “revenge against Hoat and co” his purpose to keep living. Notice how literally none of these things come to be. He does not even actively pursue the Hoat gang, revenge “lost its savor” once he sees the brutality that happened to Hoat, Tyrion no longer loves him for a lie and he believes he does not love him at all, and look at what is up with Cersei. “Her need is real enough”, + his bitterness about the cheating is still present in the chapter, and yet he does not end up pursuing any of that and chooses the oath to Cat (he abandons his position alone with Brienne, not exactly the safest thing). Like in his dream, he has his own flame right now, Cersei leaves with her torch and is no longer “the only light in the world” like it used to be as a result of their codependent relationship. The essentialist roots of that were completely deconstructed for both parties, Jaime especially (and it is touched upon again in ADwD w Hildy). So I don’t know why and how he would go to CR to Cersei atp tbh. Something will have to draw him to KL imo. Jaime’s dream is not about CR literally either, one it mirrors Brienne’s dreams and she pictures a different location (ntm they are together in Jaime’s whole dream thing anyway, what the fuck would Brienne be doing over there), two he repeatedly thinks and realizes how there is no such place beneath The Rock by the end. The original CR connection is more metaphorical than anything in my opinion. It is Tyrion that is tied to that place in a plethora of ways. It is his character that it is extremely relevant to. Whatever he will end up doing there will serve just as well with the idea of the destruction of Tywin’s legacy. I think the other two siblings will destroy Tywin’s legacy in different ways.

Finally, here is why it being Dany is thematically pretty dysfunctional imo: link

And even if, after all that, you guys still believe there to be another Aerys parallel in the narrative: This is already in the text. Is Cersei’s role just to foreshadow another woman’s path? You want this same narrative to happen again but with a teenage girl? I sure love that guys great message about women and power.

#disagree with some of this now but the symbolism analysis is good imo #asoiaf #cersei lannister #daenerys targaryen #jaime lannister #aerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #long post

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