#this book is truly my prized possession | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toms-cherry-trees · 1 year

Text

Thrilling Chase || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life

Author’s note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finite--incantatem

The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegon’s nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing.

Aemond has tried to excuse himself three times before the feast has even been served; as dutiful as he could be, even he has a limit, and his limit has been long surpassed by this insufferable event. But his weak spot has overcome his distaste, in the form of his gentle mother, who implores him to play the part for the evening. His sweet mother, who does everything in her power for the family to present a united front, all while sweeping the shambles behind the drapes. Only for her happiness is he willing to endure this foolery.

He hoped that chatting up some minor lordlings and not yawning before them would be enough to fulfil his obligations; but he has not accounted for the unwanted feminine attention. Aemond thought his physical imperfections and his downright hostile demeanour would be enough to ward off the ladies, but he could not deny the facts; as the eldest bachelor in the family, he remains a coveted prize to whom lords would offer their daughters in silver trays. He can vividly imagine them, ambitious men whispering in the ears of their girls and urging them to employ any means necessary to get in Aemond’s good graces. Only then could he explain the parade of fair maidens, all of them more adorned than carnival horses, showering him with their candid smiles and their coy giggles, batting their eyelashes and hinting most cunningly how much they would love to dance. They all seem to ask the same pre thought and bland questions; if one more lady asks to ever see Vhagar, Aemond would go and bring her down to the hall for them to see up close and personal.

Just when he hopes he has done enough to please his mother and the crowds, the first dances begin. One look from the Queen deters his efforts to flee the scene; without word, he has been reminded that his duty has yet to conclude. But Aemond would much rather eat Aegon’s toes than be found dancing with a lady. All his dexterity and gracefulness in the sparring yard do not translate to his waltzing skills; while he could be fast and silent and slippery in the face of the enemy, at the tune of the strings he possesses the elegance of a rotting tomato left in the sun.

The Prince knows the second he sets foot into the dance floor, he will be swarmed with adoring girls. But he cares not for them, since he has already set his eye on one. Just like the others she is burdened by golds and silks and stones, but unlike them, she carries her adornments with such grace and dignity that the opulence of her garments only brings forth her natural beauty.

There is something in her, something unidentifiable and unexplainable, that makes her so…so alluring. It may be the way her lips hold a perennially ineffable smile, so subtle one cannot truly tell it is there, but the mere possibility of its existence is enough to entice the mind.

It could also be her hands. Aemond cannot stop staring at them, from the way her fingers curl around the stem of the goblet, to the particular way they bend when she holds onto the pendant hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck, a subtle move that occurs whenever a young man engages her in conversation. Her left hand holds delicately onto a small fan, although its purpose seems to add to her aura of mysticism rather than keep her cool; her face disappears behind it whenever her smile becomes too wide, only her piercing eyes remaining visible, keeping her expressions unreadable, a most intriguing secret.

Only the greatest artists of the country, working for years on the best of marbles, could even dare to come close to resembling her splendour. The figure of the Maiden brought to life, and that would be a most dashing compliment - for the Goddess.

If he is to dance, he must dance with her.

He cuts through the crowd, moving past wide-eyed ladies and squeezing around dancing couples with one objective in mind. She is right there, standing near the pillar bearing the image of King Jaehaerys. She is alone, and she saw him coming. The proximity of the prey has Aemond on edge, muscles tense and ready to pounce. A man cuts his way, and he pushes him aside vigorously, but it is too late. Her figure has disappeared amongst the crowd like a vision.

Aemond spots her again a few minutes later, near the massive gates of the hall. Once more he approaches her, but he is distracted by his mother asking something, and once more loses his chance. The process repeats several times, with her always standing just at his fingertips but never close enough to grasp, her presence so real yet also so unsubstantial he begins to think he is trapped in a vivid dream.

The Prince is well damn tempted to just order everyone but her out of the chamber, but there is something in the chase, the subtle yet invigorating excitement of the pursuit, the way his pupil is blown wide and his jaw set in concentration. A sensation he has only ever experienced while wielding his sword in the training yards or soaring the skies with his dragon. An unexplainable elation, all due to this little dove who keeps flying away.

Aemond groans in frustration as she evades him once more. How can she be so fast and nimble while wearing a heavy gown? Are the Seven playing a wicked game on him, fate holding the prize above his head just out of reach? He does not care now for dancing nor pleasing his mother. This is a matter of pride; to go through all these obstacles to drop out mid-hunt would be shameful and disappointing.

She is now across the room, now more easily visible due to the dwindling crowds. She is looking straight at him, half her face obscured by her fan. But she pulls it down softly, painfully slow, and Aemond’s heart beats frantically in his chest, like he is witnessing the unveiling of the world’s greatest mystery. The fan rests lightly on her chin, and she rewards the prince with a cunning smirk.

She is doing it on purpose.

It all makes sense now. How could he be so stupid not to realise she has been playing the game alongside him? Evading him and taunting him, letting him think he had her and then slipping away like sand. This newfound knowledge spurs his desires. He needs to have her close, needs to know who she is and why is she doing this to him. His decorum and self-control slips away as a new feeling blooms within him. A warmth blooming in the depths of his body and spreading through his body. The more he cannot have her, the more he wants her. She may be akin to the image of the Maiden, but Aemond is sure the deity has never evoked the thoughts now crossing his mind, nor has any other woman ever before.

Determined to sate his curiosity, and perhaps some other lowly needs, he makes a straight line for her. She does not move nor backs out, and he can already feel the silk of her dress under his fingertips and the scent of her perfume in his nose. He doesn’t understand where the primal urge to crash his lips against hers stem from, but he is ready to give in to that urge as well.

His marching is cut abruptly by the colliding of his body against a long table. He had been so focused and lost, so unlike himself, that he paid no attention to anything or anyone around him, his vision like a tunnel focused upon her. The table is so long he would have to wander half the hall to circumvent it, and he still has enough hold of his wits to know it would be improper to vault over it or slide under the tablecloth. They are so close, yet the brief distance is unbreachable for the time being.

His eye meet hers, the mischief dancing in her pupils. The corners of those soft lips tug just a bit more, sly and bewitching. She backs away slowly, the fan coming up once more to shield her face. She turns around and disappears behind a column amidst the rustle of stiffened skirts and the tinkling of her bracelets

Defeat overcomes the Prince, but a smirk spreads across his own lips. He has not given up the chase; he is just giving the dove a head start before the hunt resumes.

#marsie writes #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond stannies

1K notes · View notes

astroismypassion · 1 year

Text

Astrology observations 🌸🌸🌸

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🌸If you have Virgo Venus, you could feel like you can have the most rewarding, stable partnerships with people who have a 6th house Synastry with you. If you are Taurus Venus, you could resonate more with 2nd house Synastry. If you have Cancer Venus, you connect best with people you have 4th house Synastry with.

🌸I noticed with Mars in the 12th house Synastry is that the Mars person (who most often has secret feelings for the house person) is more "spiritual" about the connection. They have this "if it's meant to be, it will be" passive approach towards starting the connection.

🌸Venus sextile/trine Neptune in a Synastry chart means that Venus person is easily inspired by the Neptune person, hence being more creative. Meanwhile, Neptune person could have material, financial benefits from Venus person, such as getting more lavish, expensive gifts, free dinner, more clothing etc.

🌸In Synastry, when one person's Saturn is negatively aspecting the other person's North Node, they North Node person can feel like this person is slowing down their life purpose and career. North Node person feels like Saturn person wants them to prioritize them and relationship they have with them (starting a family for example, being more present in the connection) rather than their career goals and life purpose.

🌸If both people end up dating their Saturn sign, they view each other as trophies or like a most prized possession. If you have Pisces Saturn, you could see your partner with Pisces Sun as a trophy.

🌸I'm noticing a pattern that I'm starting to develop in a little theory. Often men who have for example Gemini Sun mum, often go for women who have Gemini Moon in their chart. Or if their mum is Taurus Sun, they pick a woman who has Taurus Moon.

🌸Often times people who have Scorpio over the 4th house tend to overshare and claim they are "an open book", when in reality you don't really know much about them personally or what is happening with them or their life.

🌸People who have Mars in the 9th house LOVE to travel (especially long-distance), but I noticed with them, they at some point have this weird, unique, "rebel" phase when they just rebel against travel and kind of don't want to leave their home or hometown that they are used to.

🌸Libra Moon can get pregnant, expect a baby with a person that is already married.

🌸You can start feeling like they brought you closer to who you truly are at your core level around the sign over your 8th house. Like you become more you through the connection with this person, not necessarily "lose" yourself in the connection.

🌸 Partners of women who have Virgo Mars always admire their woman’s modesty and how humbke they are.

🌸People with Scorpio or Aries over the 4th house might really like the gym, but also kinda dislike themselves for how much take actually enjoy it.

🌸 For fitness motivation always look at the people who share their Sun sign with your Mars sign. For example: if you have Scorpio Mars, you might be really interested in a workout routine of a Scorpio Sun, such as Kendall Jenner. If you have Cancer Mars, you might want Cancer Sun Gisele Bündchen to leak her workout routine. The same goes for if you want to have a personal trainer, it’s best if this person has Sun sign of your Mars sign, because they will be able to motivate you better than others.

🌸 Gemini Juno could have a partner that diets or often does cleanses.

🌸 People who have Neptune Ascendant aspect might view the gym as a sanctuary or like personal therapy.

🌸 Young musicians who have Capricorn Venus make songs that even the elderly like to listen.

🌸 In Synastry Venus opposite Mars can mean that Venus person can act differently at home with their Mars partner versus when they are in the public with them. While Mars person is always their authentic self at all times.

🌸 People who have Cancer or Capricorn over the 8th house could attract a partner that acts like their mother (in case of Cancer over the 8th house) or their father (in the case of Capricorn over the 8th house).

🌸 Pisces Mercury and Neptune aspect Mercury can sometimes be mentally quite lazy or passive. They would rather challenge themselves to do a task, chore physically than mentally. For example, they would rather learn how to skate than learn biology.

🌸Capricorn, Pisces, Aries and Libra Moons are prone to be more emotionally insecure, especially when in a partnership. That's why they need validation on a daily basis or often.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

1K notes · View notes

allysunny · 10 months

Note

Hi! I saw that your Miguel requests were open so I was wondering if it was possible to do a mig x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's a photographer? She's always catching Miguel in action as Spiderman, not so much action shots but more movement inclined artwork. She goes to alchemax to take a professional portrait of their head biologist, Miguel, unaware that he's her not so friendly neighborhood spiderman and he's aware of her work.

Picture Perfect | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: None, i would say! Reader is a photographer and Miguel is kinda grumpy, but that's about it!

A/N: Aaaa my first request! I'm so excited! I actually finished a book about a photographer the other day, so it was super interesting to write this. Unfortunately, I don't know much about photography itself. I have a camera, but I'm no pro! Nevertheless, I tried to do my best! I hope this is to your liking!!

I'm also trying something new with my themes haha, goodbye to that big red header in between paragraphs! </3

To say Spiderman was majestic was an understatement.

The way he swinged around the city, effortlessly spinning and turning and moving as if he was one with the air – it was breathtaking. Not only did he seem amazing at what he did, he always seemed to look great doing it.

And it was a cold, hard truth that the camera loved him.

Particularly, yours.

Being Nueva York’s most famous photographer hadn’t been an easy feat to achieve. Your job had consisted of carrying cameras and tripods and objects for many years until you finally managed to publish your own work; work that had gotten you recognised and plastered in every big magazine’s cover.

Now, instead of begging and pleading for work, the work came to you. Your rep would text you and call you at the weirdest hours, claiming to have found your next great gig.

But no matter how amazing, how well-paying, how dynamic these gigs were, nothing truly compared to photographing Spiderman in action. You had some amazing shots of him – fighting villains, saving your city, and some of him just being.

Those were your most prized possessions, the shots of him overlooking the city, as if monitoring it from above. He was Nueva York’s guardian angel, and your photos captured it perfectly.

One day, you’d been photographing a famous singer who requested your services (and your services only) at the top of the highest building in Nueva York. Once you were done, the singer thanked you profusely, everyone packed, and you were left alone to overlook the place you called home.

And that’s when you saw him.

You weren’t sure if it was just a coincidence. But from all the buildings Spiderman could’ve landed on to watch Nueva York, he had landed on top of the one in front of you.

It felt almost rude to stare. He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and as much as your conscience tried to bite at you, telling you it was rude to just take his picture without asking for permission, the other part of your brain that yelled This is your job! won, and you found yourself bringing your beloved camera to your face.

Right when you were about to snap a picture, he turned to you.

Shivers ran down your spine.

I’m screwed, you thought, repeatedly. I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m screwed.

You waited for any kind of reaction from his part but got none.

Surely, he must see me. He’s Spiderman. He has to know I’m here.

Oh.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he was doing it on purpose.

Was this his way of giving you consent?

You brought the camera to your face once again and waited. He kept staring at you, and then simply turned away from you, gazing at the city.

A wave of excitement rushed through your bones, lighting the tips of your fingers ablaze.

You smiled and took his picture.

And another.

Those shots had earned you the cover of the Bugle Diario’s newest edition, and even an interview on the news, where two smiling anchors questioned you about your passion for photography, and the amazing images of Spiderman.

Sometimes you wondered why no one else seemed to get pictures like yours. Other photographers had tried, but their shots were void of passion, were bland. The masked hero would be too blurry, or perhaps facing the other way. There were times when you even humoured the possibility of him doing it on purpose – turning his face away because he refused to be photographed by someone other than you.

It gave you butterflies, this silly little thought of yours. Needless to say, though, whenever you found yourself considering it, you’d chastise yourself over it immediately. Why would he even do that? He’s a super-hero. He has no time to pick a favourite photographer. I’m just lucky, is all. And yet, you wished it was something more than just luck.

“Have you opened them yet?” Your rep asked excitedly over the phone.

The new shots of Spiderman had just arrived. You’d taken them last week, and the prints had just arrived. Excited was an understatement. You were dying to see how these looked.

“’m doing it now, give me a sec,” You responded, voice laced in enthusiasm. With a pair of scissors, you were able to make quick work of the cardboard box and dug into the contents inside.

And what you saw took your breath away.

Your (quite possibly) best work so far.

The first shot was of Spiderman on his back, body completely bent as he threw a web at (seemingly) your camera’s direction. You could see it clearly – the shape of his body, twisted in the middle of the air, the light that illuminated his figure, even the material of his webs were easy to make out if you looked closely enough. It was dynamic, the way his body contorted easily to aid him in whatever task he did. To the average person, it might even be painful, but it seemed such a natural thing for him to do, a natural pose for him to be in. A remarkable pose for a remarkable superhero.

“Holy shit…” You mumbled, to what your rep could only laugh in amusement.

“Keep going!” She encouraged, “You haven’t even seen the best one yet!”

So you kept looking through the picture, each better than the last one.

There was one of him with his back turned to you, body contorted as he webbed a building. His broad back was visible, as well as his muscular arms. You particularly remember almost getting hit by a flying car when you tried to snap that picture – it had been very well worth it. The building behind him provided the best background, since it allowed the viewer to realise how far up he was.

“[Y/N], this is great stuff. Have you seen them all?”

“No, just give me a second!” Just like your rep, you were unable to contain your enthusiasm. Each picture had so much personality to it, so much care and effort. This was not only your job, but also your passion, and it clearly showed.

“You need to see the last one, it’s amazing. Remember that day when – “ The disembodied voice on the other line kept talking, but you weren’t listening anymore. You’d reached the very last picture, and your breath had been stolen.

Spiderman stood right in front of you, hanging upside down by a web. His legs were crossed, his figure somewhat relaxed as he looked down. It seemed almost… playful. It had been snowing that day – small clusters of snowflakes fell around his figure, its pale colour contrasting against the deep blue and violent red of his suit. The sun threatened to peek out from behind his arm, creating a magnificent scene.

The otherwise chaotic moment seemed to be frozen, as Spiderman elegantly crossed his legs at the ankles, balancing casually in mid-air. The details of his suit were easy to spot, thanks to the fantastic lighting and the proximity of the photo. With this shot, you had managed to capture the essence of a hero caught between earth and sky, somewhat relaxed, but also ready to jump into action at any given moment.

Your rep must’ve noticed your silence because her voice got, somehow, even higher.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? It’s glorious, I tell you! Honey, this is your best work so far, congratulations. How you manage to get these sorts of pictures is beyond me, you have a gift.”

A gift. It wasn’t the first time you were told you had a natural talent, a gift for photography, but for the first time in ages, you were able to accept the compliment with no complaints.

“This… this is…” Words did not seem enough to express the wonder you felt towards the glorious work in front of you.

“Want some even better news?” You eagerly giggled a “uh-uh” and let the woman on the phone do the talking, “The Bugle Diario is doing a segment on Alchemax. You know, the company. They’re focusing specifically on the head biologist, a man called Miguel O’Hara. Apparently, he’s had some breakthrough discovery on DNA studies – you know me, I’m not very inclined towards science, but the point is, they want you to take his portrait!”

Alchemax was a big company. Hell, it was probably the biggest company in the city. You couldn’t quite figure out how this news were even better than the prints you’d just received, but were happy, nevertheless. A gig was a gig was a gig, and you liked portraits. Sure, this Miguel man might not be as interesting a subject as Spiderman, but it was Alchemax! It was still the opportunity of a lifetime, and there was no way you’d miss it.

“Count me in!”

Alchemax was huge.

Not only did the outside building appear enormous from the outside, but it also seemed to expand and grow once you walked inside.

All sorts of employees cover the building from head to toe – men clad in professional suits, women wearing white lab coats and safety glasses, teenagers carrying stacks of papers and boxes everywhere. You didn’t expect the megacorporation to be so… mega.

A kind receptionist took you to the floor where you were supposed to meet Miguel O’Hara, and while you two waited in the elevator, was sure to tell you how much she admired your work. You smiled and thanked her politely, before you arrived at your floor and waited.

The woman asked you to wait for a few seconds while she fetched the man you were supposed to photograph, and you did so, taking the space around you in.

It was… dark, to say the least.

Not to say that was a bad thing – you’d taken pictures at night, with barely any light other than the moon’s, but some indoor illumination would be nice. People in white coats ran around the floor, shouting words you understood, but couldn’t string in a sentence together. Talks about molecules, DNA, photosynthesis, splicing? filled the whole area, and you admired how focused every scientist seemed to be.

There were machines you could only imagine the purpose of everywhere, some large and scary, some so small, the workers carried them in their hands. Vials of strange, coloured liquids filled glass cabinets, which were occasionally opened and closed right away by working scientists. It smelled of sterilisation and focus. This was where the magic happened, you thought.

“Excuse me?” Suddenly, a rich, deep voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned around, and holy shit –

“Are you [Y/N]? I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

You stared at Miguel for what seemed like an eternity.

Were biologists supposed to be this handsome?

He was positively charming.

He could best be described as big. Very big. This man was tall – incredibly so – with large shoulders and muscular arms nearly hidden by the lab coat he has on, but you can’t help noticing. You could tell by his piercing gaze and sculpted frame that his presence commanded attention. In fact, everyone around you stopped to stare at man for a few seconds, before hurriedly returning to their tasks. He must be a strict boss.

He narrowed his eyes (were they red?) and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you up and down with a look you couldn’t decipher, but had your cheeks and ears heat up just by its intensity. And yet, you were unable to form a coherent sentence, still staring at this man, whose cheekbones were so sharp, you were afraid they’d cut you anything they touched. Upon a closer inspection, you realised that the planes of his face looked extremely tired. When was the last time he’d slept?

By the state of the floor and the workers in it, you figured long, long ago.

“Is that how you do it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Do what?” You managed to blurt out, holding onto your equipment tightly.

“Take pictures. Is that how you do it? With your eyes?”

If it was supposed to be a joke, you didn’t get it. From the way he said it, you figured it was more of a sarcastic statement. Of course. You were standing in the middle of his laboratory, shamelessly eyeing him up and down and wasting his time.

“N-No. My apologies, I…” You struggled to find the right words. They never came, so you shook your head and tried offering him your politest smile. “Yes, I’m [Y/N]. I’m here to take your portrait.”

Miguel eyed you up and down once again. You looked away, flustered. Could his gaze be any more intimidating?

“Is that all your equipment? Are you alone?” He asked you.

“Yeah, this is it.” You weren’t carrying much, just your usual stuff. A tripod, some lenses, a small reflector, and a light stand. Your beloved camera was inside it’s back, safely secured around your neck. Other photographers lectured you on not using nearly enough equipment as they would, but you prided yourself on your ability to use natural light and shadows to your advantage without a lot of instruments. “Are you busy? I mean, I was told to come now, but…”

“No, it’s fine. Where do you want me?”

Preferably on my bed, on top of me, while I hold onto those large shoulders and –

You chastised yourself for even having such thoughts. Not even the male models and actors that were photographed by you elicited such a response.

Control yourself.

“Oh, um… Do you have a lab of your own? I would like to take your picture in your element if you know what I mean.” Was the reply you gave him instead of the nasty thoughts you had conjured.

The scientist nodded and urged you to follow him.

You walked by his employees, all focused on experimenting with liquids, materials, concoctions you’d never seen before in your life.

With just a few words, Miguel had cleared what you assumed was the lab he worked on. Just like the rest of the floor, it was shrouded in in shadows. You wondered how anyone managed to work in here. Rows of instruments stood sentinel; their surfaces being bathed by the small amounts of natural flasks.

Things like vials and flasks decorated with labels of multiple colours stood on top of shelves, a reminder of the countless experiments this man and his team had conducted. He wasn’t Alchemax’s head biologist for no reason.

While you figured out the best place for him to sit, Miguel eyed you curiously.

You.

He knew you, of course.

You were the pretty photographer he’d seen capturing his fights and patrols and endeavours around Nueva York. He’d seen you risk your health countless of times, putting your own safety at risk just for a picture of him.

Miguel had to say he was flattered.

And not to mention your work always came out great. In fact, he had some of your best pictures safely tucked inside an envelop on his bedroom nightstand. A silent reminder that no matter where he went, you were sure to follow. And he liked it when you followed him.

That night when he was looking over his city and caught you staring, his enhanced vision had allowed him to get a proper look at you. At the natural sparkle of your eyes and how they widened when you two locked gazes. At the plush skin of your lips that parted when he looked at you. He could see you clearly, your gentle figure and graceful movements. So he looked away, allowing you to take his portrait.

It was the best thing he’d ever done.

“I think this would be a nice spot.” You told him, pointing to a nearby bench. “Would you please sit here?”

He happily obliged, sitting down and facing you. You looked even more beautiful up close, brows furrowing ever-so-softly in confusion as you worked your way around him, probably to figure how to best accommodate his hulking figure.

“Do you mind…?” You gave him a careful looking, pointing towards the vials and flasks and instruments cluttering the bench.

“Not at all. Just don’t break anything.”

He didn’t mean to sound as menacing he did – but Miguel was a professional, and he knew you would understand how to be careful around his objects. After all, your profession also demanded it.

You nodded and carefully got to work.

You took him in.

He was still massive, even when sitting down.

Careful as to not break anything, you sorted the objects around, arranging them in the best way possible as not to hide Miguel.

“So, tell me., Miguel,” Conversation was the easiest way to put your subjects at ease. Usually, conversation about their craft. “Did you always know you wanted to be a scientist?”

“Is this what you to do get your clients to relax?” Miguel inquired in a rather challenging tone.

“Yes.” You refused to look up, intent on making the ambient look as natural as possible without drawing the attention away from your subject. Once you were satisfied with the result, you removed your camera from its bag and pointed it at Miguel. “This is just a test shot.” And snapped a picture with the flash on.

He seemed to flinch at the bright light, and made a sound closest to a hiss, covering his face with his hands.

“Mierda – can’t you turn that off?” He grumbled.

“Sure. Can I turn on the light?”

“Absolutely not.”

You stared at him in confusion. So, he didn’t want you to turn the lights on, but you also weren’t allowed to use your camera’s flash? Who did this guy think he was?

“I’m sensitive to light – please, don’t point that at me.” This time when he spoke, his voice was softer, almost as if he regretted hissing at you – which in truth, he did.

“I can’t use my flash and I can’t turn on the lights. Am I supposed to photograph you in total darkness?

“You’re the photographer. Figure it out.”

There was a hint of what you thought was a smirk creeping up on his lips, and what you surely imagined to be a very long canine poking out, but you brushed it away as just the light (or the lack of thereof) playing tricks on you.

But he was right, you were the photographer.

You walked over to the window and closed the blinds until the natural light was almost gone.

You were a professional, and a damn good one at that, and you wouldn’t let something as basic as darkness ruin your shoot. Low light photography was a thing. You looked around, scanning your surroundings.

Miguel watched you as you walked around the lab, tinkering with vials, observing the light the windows provided, setting up the tripod in a billion different places. He had to say, he was impressed. You were every bit as competent as you appeared. The beauty was just a bonus.

“Am I giving you too much trouble?” He asked, somewhat concerned. He worried this whole shenanigan was going to give you too much work, but on the other hand, he’d seen you in action. Watched as you dodged stones and ran through cars to get the perfect photo, observed as you contorted yourself into the weirdest poses just to make your photos more dynamic. Miguel knew you could do this, he had witnessed it first hand over and over again.

“Not really, no. I like a challenge.” He grinned smugly at your response. You cross your arms, investigating the room once more. Surely a biologist’s lab had to be more interesting that that, right?

That’s when it came into view.

A huge machine, something straight out of a science fiction movie, as tall as the ceiling. You didn’t know how to describe it – there were cables all around it and a screen surrounded by keys. Definitely the kind of machine you would never approach, in fear of messing it up. Although it was turned off, the lights on its side were glowing bright red and blue, granting the lab a peculiar atmosphere.

What in the world could this possibly do?

“That’s a DNA splicing machine.” Miguel told you, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“Is this part of your research?” You were fascinated by the machine before you. How come you hadn’t noticed when you first walked in? It was creepy, surreal, but also mysterious and intriguing. All traits you could also assign to the man in the room with you.

He nodded and walked up to it, giving the structure a few pats.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you much about it. It’s Alchemax protocol. But it is part of my research, and I’m extremely proud of it.”

It was the first time Miguel had opened up about his job, and you decided to pry a bit more. You had an overall idea of what you wanted to do, now all you needed was a subject as ease, willing to relax.

“Don’t worry, I understand. It must be rewarding to know your work has helped so many people.” You smile and nudge him towards the machine. “Wait here.”

Miguel did as you were told, standing next to the enormous machine as you made your way to each window and closed the binders completely. What were you up to now? He decided to keep speaking anyway. This was your job, and you were doing your best. If he couldn’t talk to you as Spiderman, the least he could do was help you out right now. And the way to do that was to talk.

“Indeed. My research has advanced the realms of science and medicine in a truly remarkable way. I am quite proud of the progress I have made.” Miguel leaned into his machine absentmindedly, its red and blue glow illuminating his figure.

How ironic.

“And while I feel a great satisfaction in my work, I’ve also made some rather grave errors in the past.” Miguel doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. He doesn’t know you; he knows there’s a pretty woman who takes his pictures, but that’s about it. Should he be confiding in you? Would you even care?

“Errors?” You returned to his side, setting up your tripod a few feet away from him and toying with its angles. This man was huge – how were you going to fit him inside the frame of your camera?

“When I first started out at Alchemax, I was young and inexperienced. I graduated from Alchemax’s School for Gifted Youngsters and had big aspirations.” He took a big sigh, shaking his head. His dark locks fell in front of his forehead, and he was just about to adjust them, when you took a step towards him and caught his wrist just before he did.

“Don’t – just let me try something.” Miguel considered this, and mumbled a soft “alright” before you adjusted his hair slightly, tugging a rebellious strand right in front of his eyes. There wasn’t much light already, so hiding his face wasn’t ideal – but you had something in mind. “Surely, those aspirations paid out.” You decided to continue talking. It wasn’t even to get him to relax anymore, you were invested in his story, and wondered what could possibly haunt this mountain of a man.

“Only after a few years. Once I started working here, it wasn’t long before I found myself in over my head. I bit more than I could chew, and it caused me problems.” Miguel crossed his arms once more and stared into the distance. There was something laced in his gaze. Longing? Hurt? Regret?

“I’m sure you learned from them.” You angled your camera towards his face again. You’d been snapping pictures of him this whole time, though you weren’t quite sure if he had noticed it. Your camera was very silent, a feature that came in handy when you did not want to be disturbed or interrupted. Or when you did not want a scene to be ruined. “Look at me,” You mumbled, and he faced you again.

You snapped another picture.

“Still. It’s hard to live with the knowledge that you’ve done something so terrible.” You wondered what could possibly be so terrible for him to speak of it like this. One thing at the time.

“C’mere,” Miguel felt your hand on his arm, and he was suddenly being coaxed into a different position. You tilted his head towards the glass, his whole face now covered in red and blue light, forcing him to look away. It looked magnificent up close, beautiful yet harsh eyes looking at you, its irises of a colour you hadn’t figured out yet.

Your gaze trailed down over from his eyes to his strong nose and rested on his full lips. You wondered how they would feel on you – Focus! You came here to work, so work. Do not fantasize about your photo subject.

But it was so hard.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was having the exact same thoughts.

He wondered how you’d feel on his arms. Would you cling to him? He wondered how you’d look under him, caged under his arms and legs. Now that he wasn’t in imminent danger, Miguel allowed himself to look at you all he wanted.

Was it just you, or was the room hotter?

Quickly, you scurried away, returning to your camera.

“I’m sure all of the good things you’ve done in the name of science have made up for those past mistakes.” You tell him, snapping a few more shots. He looked majestic. The camera certainly loved him; no matter the angle, he always looked good.

“You think so?” Miguel fixated his gaze on yours once again, and precisely on that moment, you snapped a picture.

Oh.

You looked at your camera’s screen and smiled.

Now this was a photograph worthy of a cover.

You looked at the man in front of you, smile still gracing your lips.

“I do.”

You examined the pictures you’d taken. They all looked great – save for that very last photo.

That one looked incredible. Magnificent.

“I think we’re done here!” You chirped, turning it off and putting it away.

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“Already?”

“Mhm! I got it. Believe me, these look incredible.” He kept staring at you while you packed your things, unsure of what to say. He was aware he might have come across as rude or cold, but that’s just who he was. And truth be told, he was enjoying this. The company. Your company. Being able to finally share his burdens – even if for a few seconds, and not entirely. It was nice.

He followed you, suddenly appearing nervous.

“So, I usually send my subjects a copy of their prints. I know the Bugle’s my client, but I think you’re entitled to a few copies, don’t you?” There was that dazzling smile once again. Fuck. Miguel ought to make you smile more often – you’re a vision.

“I do,” he said, before shrugging. “You know… You could give me those in person.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, his words eliciting a mix of shock, surprise, and eagerness within you.

“In person?”

“In person. Maybe over some coffee?” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. What if you said no? Miguel didn’t know you. What if you had a boyfriend? What if you weren’t interested in men? What if he had just made a big fool of himself?

He expected anything. For you to laugh, to walk away, to slap him.

He didn’t expect you to turn away from him, a flustered look adorning your features.

This was the part where you let him down slowly, where you told him you didn’t date your subjects, where –

“Coffee sounds great. I would love some coffee.” And then you quickly retrieved something from your bag – was that a piece of paper? Bending over a nearby bench, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “That’s my number. Not my rep’s – mine. You can… You can call me if you want to.”

Miguel smiled for the first time in the entire afternoon. And if his chiselled, stoic face was gorgeous, you had no way to describe his smile. It looked so natural, like it suited him. Like he should be always smiling. “I will.” He spoke gently.

A few weeks later, Miguel opened the door to his house to find a big envelope box addressed to him.

After taking it inside and swiftly opening it with his talons, he was met with a pastel coloured post-it that read “Thought you deserved the first edition” and a doddle of a small heart for a signature.

Carefully placing the note on his table, he removed the contents from the envelope.

It was an edition of the Bugle Diario, with his photo plastered on the cover. Specifically, the last one you took, the one you’d gushed about over a cup of coffee and a small cake.

The Mind of the Master: In-depth Interview with Alchemax’s Head Biologist Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel smiled.

His favourite photographer had done it once again.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I really did try my best! :) I'm not quite sure how I feel about this layout, but I like experimenting!

Have an amazing day everyone! <3

428 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 5 months

Note

What happened with Barbour ?

Dear Barbour Anon,

My favorite kind of Anon, even if I know the question has recently been asked again and not in this corner. Never mind, I think it's time to talk about it, too.

I bought my first Barbour (entry-level, so olive) Bedale wax jacket 25 years ago, from their (long gone, now) shop on Boulevard Raspail, in Paris. It was a mandatory clothing item to own if you wanted to properly mingle with the law school crowd (it still is) and it ended up being one of my most prized possessions, possibly a part of me. I still have it somewhere, back home. Two more followed, along with a fetishist array of shirts, scarves, beanies and even one of those sturdy crossbody bags you can fit half a house in. So you can imagine my absolute thrill when I found out, very very late, that S had had a rather substantial collaboration with them, from 2016 and until 2019.

I am very bad with timelines, as you probably know and possibly even cackle about, but still: S was appointed as the company's first ever Global Brand Ambassador on July 16, 2016. His mission statement was very precisely defined by the brand and for some reason we'll analyze a bit later, this is important:

(Source, heh: https://www.astonbourne.co.uk/is-barbour-a-luxury-brand-unraveling-the-mystique-of-classic-outerwear/).

A shirt and vest signature collection followed in 2017 and 2018, with the contract being renewed. Advertisement was absolutely gorgeous and designed to shape a very positive image, both for S and the brand. Last autumn's SS Gin promo retained some of that irresistible aesthetic DNA and I discussed it at length.

See for yourself, Anon. The fandom endlessly discussed the first long clip (with the chocolate labrador), but I have no idea if these two have been seen, let alone debated. If they did, let that be my nostalgic mistake.

Spring/Summer 2018:

youtube

Fall 2018:

youtube

And then disaster stroke, with S's trip to Ha-wa-wee 1.0, in the spring of 2019. A short reel, featuring a rather agglomerated boat trip, was posted on socials. Unfortunately for S, it also featured an allegedly horrifying scene involving the 'traditional' bludgeoning to death of a tuna fish. Emotions ensued and as it often happens here, they spun out of control. Many people, including some of the most vocal S haters, tagged Barbour in their diatribes, filled with environmentalist indignation. They suggested this guy (who did not participate to the savagery and I would be even unsure he realized what was going on) was, by no reasonable means, a proper 'embodiment of the brand's identity, values and aspirations' (remember that mission statement?).

Tone deaf as ever in the midst of a serious PR crisis, S put friendship above anything else, and publicly praised the boat's owner, calling him 'the heart and soul of the island', if I remember well. I still would like to think he has no idea what the hell exactly happened. And then, when somebody finally (August 2019) asked Barbour on Insta about their collaboration with S, they got this politely dry, but clear answer:

"We don't have any plans for a collaboration with SH in the near future" means, in my book and to my understanding, "we are never going to work with this guy again". Truly, some people in here who dare to give morality lessons to others, should be proud of themselves: they did it knowingly and in a very organized way, using multiple sock accounts, to give the impression of a collective retching reflex. To cut the story short, the dread of any ad campaign on this planet.

The effort was genuine. The result of that collaboration was very good. Take, for example, this somewhat heartbreaking customer review by an American guy who has no idea who SRH is and who bought one of those jackets from a Barbour factory warehouse, in 2021, with a hefty rebate (70% off). Clearly something Barbour wanted to get rid of at all costs - what a pity and really what a SHAME on all those hypocrites who will never admit to a public assassination by the book:

youtube

This time, I am absolutely not sorry for the length, Anon. This is something that still makes me boil. Unfairness and cheap nastiness simply disgust me.

(Thank you, sweetheart, for the screenshot, always. You know who you are 😘😘😘).

#anon #fandom #shitshow

147 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 11 months

Text

... In this essay, I will reiterate that "Cad Bane is a depressed, sentimental bastard."

OK, so, @fat-tasty-krogan pointed out that the barrels of Bane's LL-30's are rusty in the Bad Batch via a screenshot and now I cannot stop thinking about things and connecting the dots.

Here's me checking different angles. 100% rusty. This is a man who is the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, a man who is *the* best shot — that’s his livelihood right there. Something is wrong.

I've always thought Cad Bane was depressed, mostly owing to his behavior in the lost arc, but this solidifies it for me. Let's talk about the canon, shall we? (Fair warning: I may throw in headcanons or share some other thoughts along the way, but I will warn you ahead of time if it's an original idea versus what is considered to be canon).

First, let's take the idea that Jango Fett is mentor to Cad Bane. This in and of itself says to me they had a close relationship and that they often worked together in some capacity. I will spare you my thoughts on the rest, but Jango does in fact associate with him and most likely in a meaningful way we never get to see. Jango Fett does not trust easy, yet he trusts him enough to be around his child; his prized possession, let's say.

Proof: When Boba first mentions Bane, (in chorological order) it is in the comics.

Him asking to spend time with Bane, and Jango saying "no, because you already know of him (and others like Zam)," means they had a close-knit relationship in my opinion. One that sadly comes to an end. In this comic, Jango wants to train Boba to deal with "the factor of the unknown," versus the known. Hmmm.

Moving right along.

The next time we see or hear anything about Boba and Cad being in the same room is during the Rako Hardeen/Box Arc, and in the audiobook CW: Stories of Light and Dark in the short story "Bane's story" that is read by Corey Burton as Cad Bane.

In it he states that the "kid's all right," and that he "owed his father a few favors." In the story, he reiterates what happens between him, Eval, and Obi-Wan to Bossk and little Boba Fett. It was Bossk and Boba who helped to create the diversion so that they could break out and escape.

Bane returns, his job foiled, and explains why. At the end of the audiobook Boba has a plan to get them all out of jail, and he wants Bane to be apart of it. This is AFTER Aurra leaves Boba for dead on Florrum ( don't get me started on Hondo, WHEW - they knew each other too, for SURE ), before TBB, and before we see Bane with a plate in his head, this one:

It is still present in the Book of Boba Fett.

Let's not rush ahead, though. Let's back up to a bit to where Cad Bane gets betrayed.

#1 betrayal on screen is Obi-Wan Kenobi as Rako Hardeen. While I don't necessarily ship them, I can see how Cad was very much hurt by this, as he felt he had started to develop a kinship with another hunter, someone who could watch his back, imo. Maybe he hadn't experienced anything like that since Jango Fett. Maybe Rako was ticking all the right boxes; I see Cad as prizing loyalty. When Obi-Wan turned him over, you could see the pain and anger in expression -- he was truly hurt, and he promised to end his life with a blaster bolt between the eyes. I honestly think he despises him and that's that.

Returning now to Boba, it is also canon that Boba was mentored by Cad Bane. Bane's story is also where he mentioned young Boba often reminded him of himself.

In an unaired Clone Wars Arc, Boba Fett works together with Cad Bane on a job. During the animation created for the episodes that never aired, Bane is seen drinking heavily and seems to give two shits less about Boba or the job itself and is not taking things seriously.

Boba begins to question his tactics, and does not like that he is willing to sacrifice innocent townsfolk just to get a bit of money. He stands up against him, and Embo, Bossk, and other hunters present decide to let him take his shot and do not interfere in their duel, even though most likely Bane is seen to be the one in charge or having authority.

In the end they both fall, but Boba was (unfairly might I add) still wearing his helmet. You can tell that the plates on Bane's hat, however, are also armored. Still, it is not beskar. Bane is severely injured.

#2 betrayal: Bossk and Embo retract their weapons and let Bane go head-to-head with the boy. He even looks surprised in the video footage when they do this! It's the same face he gave Obi-Wan Kenobi!

Boba comes out the winner. We see Bossk with Boba in The Empire Strikes back in the future, and in canon they are known to be seen often together. He especially looked after him in prison on Coruscant.

Thus, we can assume, Bossk went off with Boba after Bane's defeat and joined forces, leaving him for dead. I assume, and in canon it is depicted that Embo is honor-coded. If what he thought Bane was doing was not honorable, he most likely left him for dead as well. What we DO see is Todo 360 being there. I am almost 100% certain it is because of his droid he survives. But, where did he take him for help? Hmmm.... HONDO!! (Kidding, kidding - another HC I have, but ANYWAY).

In fact, Todo states he is Bane's "most trusted confidant" to Omega, and I believe this. He's a grumpy dick, but he never outright punishes Todo for anything, and he messes up quite frequently, but he is also a great help.

I have a headcanon that states his reasonings for keeping Todo, though this has no basis in canon:

"The little shit comes back after he is blown apart by a bomb Cad himself planted to go off in the Jedi Temple. Todo is loyal. He's there for him. He doesn't mind he's a grump. He provides conversation; stimulation in the otherwise solitary hours he spends in space. He becomes a comfort, someone to talk to, someone to fill the void that Jango left behind." Perhaps he also acts in the same capacity as a service animal.

Anyway, it is known what Bane thinks about clones. "Once you figure one out, de rest are easy." I don't think he liked clones, even if he tolerated and respected Boba until a certain point in time. He was different, he had "his father's blood pumping through his veins," and maybe Bane had trouble staring at that face - looking in those eyes -especially if there was more to him and Fett's relationship.

Imagine how he must have felt when he betrayed him? When he shot him? When he failed at repaying Jango's favor and failed at being Boba's mentor?

I personally do not believe Bane would have agreed to the Clone contract idea as far as his opinion. I think he would have told Fett he was crazy to have millions of himself running around out there, that there is only one of him that's the real deal. Let's add this to the fact he has to see their dead and dying faces everywhere to the point he's so numb he shoots them every chance he gets - no big deal. No big deal to have to kill one of your partner's lookalikes everyday for nearly the rest of your life, eh? Even after Jango himself is already dead.

Coming to The Bad Batch, it was pointed out by another user that when Omega is looking for a way off Bane's ship, we see some medallions/coins/ingots that have the symbol of the Mythosaur in a cabinet she is searching. That is Mandalorian. Who was Mandalorian? Jango. Boba by default. They are accompanied here by a journal. I think it could be Boba's journal, too. The boy most likely resided with him on his ship as he had the Justifier during the lost arc and they were traveling together.

That man is 100% a sentimental bastard.

You could say he hated Boba. You could say he was his number one enemy, but deep down maybe he felt remorse. He had been drinking. Why? Maybe it was hard to be in Boba's company. Maybe he felt he could have prevented Jango's death. Maybe mentoring him was hard work, but in the end, Boba betrayed him after everything he had tried to do for him. And Bane liked the kid up until this point - said so himself in Bane's story.

In the lost bounty hunter arc, Cad is wearing the same outfit he is in The Bad Batch. Now he has a metal plate in his head. @allsystemsblue mentioned he talks himself up to Shand. Maybe he's trying to convince himself he's as good as he says he is. He headbutts her and it obviously throws him off. He shakes himself out, trying to regain his concentration. I personally headcanon he gets terrible headaches.

The plate is on the OUTSIDE, meaning it's protecting something underneath. I imagine he had a hole in his head and a bit of his skull was fractured. I say he wears the plate to reinforce a soft spot that makes him vulnerable.

Even so, she kicks his ass. He's off his game. Maybe he's been drinking even more since his defeat and embarrassment at the hands of a kid. One he respected, one maybe he called family.

All the other hunters sided with Boba, left him high and dry, and he hasn't even been caring for or polishing his blasters; his moneymakers. They are RUSTY.

He loses Omega, he loses his credits, and Fennec sabotages his ship. This man is pissed. He's at wit's end. For all we know, he sat down and cried afterward before he could figure a way off that damn planet, and the only one who was there for him was Todo.

Years later, we see him confront Boba. He's a hardass. Nothing left of his personality in that show but a villain. It was like they made him extra mean on purpose.

He's still hung up on the past, he says it. He talks about Jango's blood being inside Boba, his "father." He leers at Boba. It is almost as if he takes a pause (again crediting @allsystemsblue for this observation), a moment to truly look at him. And let's not forget the hiss he gives him right before his "final lesson."

"Look out for yourself, anything else is weakness."

GEE! Where did he learn that from, I wonder?! FROM BOBA HIMSELF MAYBE?! He was "weak" for Boba; he was his mentor; he tried his best to do right by his father and train him and he failed. He shot him, left him for dead, betrayed him along with all the other hunters present, and all that was left for him was to work alone. To grin and bear it. To take the jobs that came his way just to survive.

He had to of hit a downward spiral at some point in his life to come to this conclusion; something terrible must have happened, and I guarantee it's this.

Shat on all his life, all the way from being "hatched" in the Descent Ghetto on New Tayana on Duro, poor, coming up from the slums, working hard just to make ends meat.

Can't tell me he didn't have a wall up, and hell yes he was feeling low. What could make a man that mean besides betrayal and sentimentality for something he wishes perhaps he could have changed or prevented all together.

Now he takes the toughest jobs, the ones nobody wants. His reputation is fear and for good reason. He'll do anything for money, including killing innocents according to Boba. Where has his Code of Honor gone?

I'll tell you where.

No one ever respected Cad the way he tried to respect them. No one offered or afforded him the same luxury. Every time he was near to forming a decent partnership with someone, they turned right around and stabbed him in the back. We at least see it with Rako/Obi and Boba on screen. Bossk and Embo count too, for me. Maybe Jango was the only one he could trust. Him and Todo 360, which he was not around until long after Jango's death and in some form could have been a fractional replacement for companionship.

To throw in a few thoughts on Hondo, he knew them both well. Imagine if Hondo also kept secrets from Bane, whether intentional or not, or perhaps befriended him only to manipulate him for his own gain (which is definitely something that could happen). He speaks favorably of him in "Secrets of the Bounty Hunters," and calls him his friend, but he calls everyone that.

At one point they did work together as per the blurb on the back of a toy called the "Pirate Speeder bike," that features Cad Bane and a Starhawk speeder. If Hondo also betrayed him at some point, I can see it only adding fuel to the fire, IF Bane allowed him close to begin with. Considering his reputation, it's possible that no, he did not, but I also ship Cad Bane and Hondo Ohnaka as well as Jango Fett and Cad Bane. I won't go into it here, but I can see them being an insanely toxic, yet perfect match.

To sum it up, yes, he is totally depressed. I feel like this is why. Can't change my mind.

---

P.S.: This is also a lesson in how to cite your sources and give credit where credit is due when thinking about headcanons and fandom fun. :) Ain't so hard, right?

#Cad Bane #Headcanons #Duros #Star Wars #Jango Fett #Boba Fett #Book of Boba Fett #Clone Wars #The Bad Batch #Todo 360 #Bounty Hunters

277 notes · View notes

nrilliree · 10 days

Note

TG's favourite retort: Bbbbut what about Daemon? Daemon this. Daemon that.

It's excruciatingly boring to see how they act Daemon can be used as a 'gotcha' for TB and is proof that both sides are 'equally bad'. Or that Daemon is as bad as Aegon and Aemond or even worse.

To put it in simple words because anything else won't be understood by them, Daemon falls in the category of GRRM's antiheroes which also includes Jaime Lannister and Oberyn Martell, both of whom are highly romanticized by the fandom. Jaime's deeds need no introduction. It should also be taken to note that Oberyn - the fandom's darling - besides being a known whoremonger - has also used physical violence on Obara's mother in canon and was indirectly responsible for her death by separating her from her daughter.

Anyway, it is obvious that all three of the abovementioned characters are far from morally upstanding human beings. They are not without their shortcomings, some of which have no justification. Yet, to many, they are fascinating because besides being capable of cruelty, they are also able to act within the bounds of reason many a times and possess a capacity for love. Such characters provide ample scope for one's imagination to run wild.

On the other hand, Aegon and Aemond are, in plain and clear words, villains and two of their actions stand as proof.

a) Aegon's brutal murder of Gerardys which is described in detail in the book. That man was an innocent maester who was trying to do his duty by helping Aegon. His only perceived offence was that he had served Rhaenyra.

b) Aemond's massacre of House Strong which is also detailed in which no member including children - trueborn or bastard - was spared save for Alys who was taken as a war prize.

The reason for singling out these two acts in specific, out of all other heinous ones committed by Alicent's sons in the book, is that they are often swept under the rug by the same lot who can't stop crying about B&C which was a reaction to yet another of the Greens' crimes. Aegon and Aemond acted unprovoked without any rhyme or reason and their actions are more in line with those of Joffrey and Ramsay. Or, if we have to pick from their own contemporaries, Hugh and Ulf. Not morally gray or antiheroic like the fics attempt to reimagine them as but plain evil. Even the greenpilled maesters couldn't conceal it despite trying their best.

Now, people can like whatever character they wish to for whatever reason. That's none of my business. But blatant denial of canon while propagating all kinds of fanon is another matter altogether. The fact remains that Daemon ,even at his worst, pales before the Greens' villainy and no amount of whataboutery and denial is going to change that.

Daemon committed one crime throughout the entire Dance - B&C. Yes, it was a cruel crime. But why should the death of one high-born child be treated as a greater tragedy than the death of hundreds of children from the cities that the TG plundered and burned? Why is he considered a "villain" by TG and the TG boys are considered "misunderstood"? This is truly unimaginable to me. Especially when such accusations are made to the book.

Daemon is not good. Daemon is not evil. He is something in the middle and it is the fact that for some he can be considered a hero and for others a villain that makes him such an interesting character. And it really hurts me that the series ruined it so much.

#house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #pro team black #anti team green stans #prince daemon targaryen

27 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Text

The Handler - 1991 - Compliance

A/N: Short lil prequel! I need to get off my angsty shit and write some good ole fashioned happy luv luv hee hee✨

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: Sexual assault on someone incapable of consent, dub-con, twisted rationalizations, abuse of power. HTP. Hydra!Reader, Back in ye ole Siberia, winter soldier Bucky, hand jobs, praise kink, Voyeurism, The Chair, touchstarved buckbuck

Vasily stood unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. The asset looked like a caged animal, blue eyes darting around for unseen targets. Guards moved forward to grab the soldier, now dazed from cryo.

“He’s usually the most vulnerable like this. Meet our prized possession, little girl.”

You nodded along, hiding any trace of fear in your body. General Karpov had chosen you from a pool of willing participants to help oversee the Winter Soldier program. It had been a week since you’d moved to the base. But you liked the respect you received around here, being Karpov’s protege, one day to handle the fist of Hydra.

You followed behind Vasily’s taller frame like a shadow. The asset stumbled in front as they led him to the Chair. Electroconvulsive shocks to suppress memory and make the asset more suggestible to commands. The guards shoved the Winter Soldier into the machine, computers and a couple of scientists standing around.

They shoved a mouthpiece into his snarling face, eyes unfocused. Vasily murmured, “He shattered his teeth in the beginning,” the man handed you a red book, “After he stops screaming you read the words.”

“Yes General.”

The asset’s cries of pain made you flinch, your general frowning down at you. Refocusing you opened the book and filtered through to the words you needed. The shocks echoed through the room along with his howling. The asset’s built chest heaved and he was sweating from exertion.

The headpiece flipped up and off his long dark hair, matted down with sweat. You circled the soldier, prattling off the words needed to activate his protocol. When you finished Vasily handed the soldier an envelope asking, “Ready to comply soldier?”

“Ready to comply,” he responded robotically.

They sent the soldier off soon after, you pondering the strangeness of it all. He was to be retrieving supersoldier serum, recreated by Howard Stark. Then the Winter Soldier program could truly begin, test subjects waiting to join an armada of unstoppable super soldiers.

Then Hydra could become supreme, start a new world. A better one without disorder and deviants. Your chest puffed with pride at the thought of being such an integral part of changing the world. Vasily clapped your shoulder and stated, “Nice job agent. Back to your work, girl. When soldier returns I have to teach you the, hm, intricacies of handling.”

So you went back to work, detailing plans and structure for the new soldiers. How they were to stay compliant and such. There would have to be much testing, but the government supplied plenty of money. Some of the Americans even loaned a spare officer or scientist.

Soldat returned, face devoid of any emotion. He held out the briefcase and stood at attention. You all stood in a tight office, the proximity of the soldier making you wary. He’d been gone for a week without any time in the chair. The brain repairs fast regardless of how scrambled his limbic system might be.

Vasily opened the box, revealing the multiple packets of the serum, smiling contentedly. He murmured, “Good job soldat. Very good job. You might deserve a reward.” The asset’s breath hitched the slightest bit, eyes darkening. The general closed the case and moved to the other side of the desk, reclining in the chair.

You eyed the soldier, then your commander.

“General? Is he not to be put back in cryo?”

Vasily leaned back, a strange glint in his eye, lips turned up. He waved a hand and said, “I told you I have a lesson on handling our precious asset, silly girl.” You frowned in confusion. Karpov continued like the soldier wasn’t even in the room, “He can get a bit riled up. It scares you does it not? Being so close to a precise machine designed for murder.”

You gulped, eyeing the asset’s huge frame. His silvery arm softly clicked in the room. He almost seemed to be vibrating with energy, if one had an eye for it. Blue eyes darting around, seemingly disliking the tights quarters. Finally you whispered, “It is intimidating, yes General.”

“Besides the brain fuck machine, he likes a softer touch in order to comply,” he cocked his head and ordered, “Soldier, mission report.” The soldier listed off the details, the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark and the camera he shot out that would need to be wiped. You frowned at dealing with the Americans.

“Good boy. My agent here will take good care now.”

You fidgeted in place, waiting for further instruction. Karpov kicked his legs up on the desk and laughed, “The soldier is touch starved, swoons like a slut for soft hands. You can keep him out of cryo a bit longer and have some fun with him.” Your face drained of color as you questioned, “You want me to fuck the asset sir?”

“No, just play with him a little. It’s entertaining watching the soldier crumble. Besides, the fist probably hasn’t had a woman’s touch in years. Go on now. This is part of the routine.”

Your heart was thudding in your ears. This was vile to you. Being a woman in Hydra was hard enough, but sexually using the best weapon they had in front of your commander was humiliating. That was the culture you grimly supposed. Vasily probably felt the same the first time and whoever before him.

You stepped toward the soldiers larger frame, staring up into his handsome face. You caressed his cheek gently, murmuring, “I apologize, precious star.” He made a low noise, lids lowering as you stroked your thumb across a sharp cheek.

Your other hand relocated to his lips, thumbing the full bottom one. The asset instinctively opened his mouth, suckling on your thumb with a whine. His breathing sped up, left arm recalibrating with a series of clack, clack, clack. You removed your now wet thumb, closing your mouth to his own.

The asset moaned into your mouth, eagerly licking inwards. You cradled the back of his head, curling fingers into dark locks. Vasily made a pleased hum from behind. The pair of you kissed slowly, the asset seeming to soak up every smack with another whine.

You pulled back, eyes boring into his lust blown pupils. He tried to kiss you again, but you held a finger to swollen lips. Your hand slid down to grasp between thick thighs. You gasped in shock and arousal. He was certainly…above average. The soldier whimpered softly, face begging for more.

“Take him out, big one isn’t he?,” said your general.

You unlatched the belt and many holsters, them dropping to the tile with a thud. You popped the button, his flushed cock shoved into the front of his tac pants. That had to be uncomfortable, you idly thought. He groaned when you gripped the length and stroked one time.

You wanted to ask the quivering man how he liked it, but the burning gaze of your commander shut you up. Instead you cooed while stroking the brunette’s thick cock, “Good soldier, complying so well. So pretty, pretty face, cock, body. Perfection.” He let out a particularly loud moan, legs twitching at the praise.

Your other hand moved back to pulling lightly at his hair, making the soldier flush and pant. His big chest was staccato as you jacked him off faster and faster. You played with his sensitive cockhead, swirling your thumb around the crown and slit. Karpov barked a laugh when the soldier sniffled and whimpered.

“C’mon soldier, good soldier, cum for your handlers. Gorgeous noises, fuck,” you rambled.

The asset thinly keened, “T-thank you!” His body was trembling intensely as you used both hands to work his pulsing cock. You kissed and licked at his neck, savoring the taste while he sharply sobbed. It wasn’t loud but sounded deafening in the small room. Heated wetness covered your hand and belly. Stroking the asset through his climax was longer than expected, him seemingly having an endless load, face crumpled and red as he emptied.

Finally he whimpered and twitched, indication that this was over. Karpov clapped and commented, “Wonderful. Take him to the showers he needs to be hosed off. Took to it well girl, but no need to be so kind.” You nodded in thanks and led the hazy soldier out of the too small, horrid room.

“I’m sorry soldier, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that.” You hoped he would respond but was met with nothing. After a moment you commanded, “Soldier, speak your mind.”

“You were kind. Much softer than the others.”

You felt a protective need to shield this beautiful weapon from greedy hands. Only you should be able to handle him, establish a bond that made him ever loyal. Vasily wouldn’t have to know. He’d be busy with the new recruits. You rubbed the asset’s wide shoulders and said, “I’ll never hurt you, precious star. Too important for us all.”

Your heart ached at watching his swaggering walk into the showers filled with guards and scientists. Blue eyes gazed back once and then you wouldn’t see him until next mission. Back to work, cover it up with work, yes. Ignore that crawling, slimy feeling over your skin. Remember, it’s not about you, it’s about Hydra after all.

#dead dove do not eat #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #touch starved #hydra trash party #subby Bucky #Bucky barnes x reader

167 notes · View notes

my-own-walker · 1 year

Note

dating frat! kyle headcanons please?? ily 💕💕

Dating Kyle Spencer - Campus Fratboy Headcanons

note: i love this! it's a lil quickie i can put out before i post my next story!

+++

He's really affectionate in public. Especially around his frat brothers. He treats you like his prized possession, but not in a toxic manipulative way. He's just really proud he bagged a babe like you.

And by showing you off, I definitely mean he tries to make his frat bros jealous of what he has with you. He talks you up to them and tells them how cool you are (your achievements, things he likes about you).

In private he's even sweeter. Very vulnerable with his emotions. He comes right out and says what he's feeling no matter what.

He will open up to you about anything. Fights/arguments are typically very productive. He's a good communicator and lays his thoughts out on the table for you.

Not afraid to cry in front of you either. He isn't afraid to curl up into a ball on your lap and sob into the crook of your neck. But he's also very supportive of your emotions too. Will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Total softie.

Frequently buys you flowers/food/trinkets he thinks you'd like whenever he gets the chance. Always thinking of you. He remembers the small things, too.

You said you were out of your moisturizer last night? He shows up with it the next day, correct brand and all, because he knew you had class and would be too busy to get to the store.

Definitely is already planning your wedding. Like who will be there, where it will be, the whole nine. He's a commitment king. He doesn't do flings. When he's dating you he's in it for the long haul.

100% has the worst sex playlist on Earth. Like he made one, which is cute, but it's all 80s yacht rock and classic rock he was raised on.

Fav songs include: Hold The Line by Toto, Goodbye Stranger by Supertramp, Do Ya by Electric Light Orchestra, and I'm Still Standing by Elton John.

Total uncle vibes. He's a 20-year-old uncle. Makes dad jokes and is super corny. If you're in a store together and a song he likes starts playing, he will full-on start singing and dancing to it in an attempt to make you laugh.

Like he will twirl you and everything.

A total people-pleaser. You have to have multiple stern talks with him about doing whatever his frat brothers ask him to do. He just wants to fit in, but you see their tendency to walk all over him and take advantage of his kindness.

That being said, he is totally cool with making a fool of himself in public. He laughs at himself a lot.

He's really book-smart, but not always street-smart. Common sense sometimes evades him. He'll tutor you in biology but then forget to use oven mitts when pulling something hot out of the oven.

Very intimate in more ways than sex. It isn't a top priority for him. He is very touch-oriented. Every part of him wants to be touching you at all times. He would live him your clothes if he could.

He's big on neck kisses. They're his weakness.

Whenever you hold hands he makes a point to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb. When you cuddle, he's playing with your hair. When you're studying together, his arm is around you, or his hand is on your forearm.

Big on eye contact. He likes to look into your eyes during intimate moments. It helps him feel grounded/stay connected to you. Gives him a sense of control.

He is super helpful. Will always carry heavy things for you. Built the Ikea bookshelf in your apartment for you all by himself. When he's around your family, he helps with cooking, cleaning, whatever.

Makes a point to sit next to your grandmother/grandfather. Really respects his elders. Has genuine conversations with them and is super patient. Truly listens to their life stories.

Has a folder in his phone of pictures of you. He's always taking candid shots of you. He likes the non-posed photos just as much as the posed ones.

Don't even get me started on the selfies. He will send you 5 million silly selfies when he's bored. Whenever you hang out he's taking dumb selfies with you. Basically, he figured out his phone had a front camera and has been entertained by it ever since.

+++

I HAVE SO MANY MORE SO LMK IF YOU WANT A PT 2 OR ANOTHER CHARACTER!!! THESE ARE FUN

#evan peters #evan peters fic #kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer headcanons #ahs #ahs coven

132 notes · View notes

intothegenshinworld · 2 years

Note

Hey since we already had used to luxury reader how about a complete opposite

A reader who was used to barley making the ends meet

Ps sorry for bad lenguaje English isn’t my first language

No worries! I could understand what you wanted to say! :D Hope you like it!

Note 2: Idk might have included too many people. I didn't know how to tag this bc there were so many but sksksk I hope this is okay

Normally you don't spend a lot of money on clothes and luxury stuff, only when you needed it.

Your most prized possession was your phone. Not only could you contact your friends but you spend many hours playing Genshin.

The game really helped you on your bad days.

It distracts you and you love the characters. You feel as if they truly understand you and will remain there, no matter how bad things will get.

When you were playing the game and your screen died you freaked out.

What were you supposed to do without your phone?

Shortly after your phone breaks, you black out. Or at least, that's what you think happened.

When you wake up, you feel like you're laying in clouds. The bed is so soft and warm, silk sheets are draped over your figure and you're wearing new clothes made from the best materials.

When you see Ningguang walk in with Ganyu and Keqing you're in shock. How did you get inside your favorite game? Meeting your characters was possible now so you won't complain!

The Qixing take good care of you when you first wake up. There are a bunch of new clothes to choose from, and while you're grateful for so many clothes, you stick to choosing one outfit.

When learning that you're God!Reader you're so shocked, because why would you be a god?

When you get hungry you don't need to cook. Within minutes someone else is prepping the best meals for you, providing you food until your appetite has left. No longer do you need to worry about money either. Teyvat will gift you everything you need,

You're still getting used to this luxury, yet you keep accepting the gifts Childe brings you. Each one is personally chosen by the Tsaritsa, and sent from Snezhnaya to Liyue. Childe is a harbinger carrying out his duties as a diplomat, yet when you accept the gifts he can't help but be selfish and believe that your smile is meant for him, instead of the Tsaritsa.

During your stay in Liyue, you'd continuously get spoiled by the Qixing. If you tell them your concerns about money, they would reassure you that the mora is well spent. Ningguang would keep sending you the best outfits, hand-tailored with the highest materials just for you to wear.

When you meet Zhongli he too would show up with something valuable. He doesn't have money, yet he always has something to give to you. He ends up telling its history as well, keeping you for himself as the two of you share tea.

Xingqui as representative of the Feiyun Commerce Guild and practitioner of the Guhua Clan would visit you as well. Amongst the gifts of the Guild is his own book. He considers it a personal gift for you.

When you head to Mondstadt, the Acting Grand Master Jean would request that the big clans in Mondstadt send representatives to give you their welcoming gifts.

The Adepti would express their gratitude for your presence. Their gifts might not be as 'expensive' as Ningguang's but hold more meaning. You'd probably end up with some relic Xiao gifts you for protection.

Diluc would give you a few of his finest bottles of wine and would make room at the Dawn Winery should you request to stay over.

The Lawrence clan had some disagreements but at last, Jean had asked Eula to represent their clan. She'd be nervous, not wanting to offend you with her words. When you finally arrive you would tell Eula that meeting her was the best gift. She'd start to stutter and fumble over her words after that.

Later in Inazuma, you'd be welcomed by Ayato and Ayaka from the Yashiro Commission. As Cultural representatives, they'd make sure your welcome is as spectacular as can be. Thoma would be there as well, following the orders that Ayato gives him.

There are some members of the Knights of Favonius that would go out of their way to welcome you. Yet Kaeya, Lisa, and Albedo were the only ones who got to spend time alone with you.

The Tenryou Commission would be there as well. Not interacting with you but focusing on your safety. Kujou Sara would lead this department. If you choose to personally thank her for her hard work she'd act as if it was a normal thing to do, yet from the inside she's screaming because you gave her your attention.

When you arrive at the Tenshukaku you meet Ei, who came out of the Plane of Euthymia to personally greet you. She wants everything to be perfect and requests you to start wearing inazuman clothes.

Overall you'd get spoiled everywhere. You might need some time to get used to it but they will never stop loving you.

853 notes · View notes

midnightsapphire · 2 years

Note

Ghost aemond part 3 pleasee 🙏! We need it :(, maybe reader can go to a witch or something to bring him back? 🥺 I think both we and aemond have suffered enough 😆

A/N - ask and you shall receive! sorry this is so long lol, i'm not really proud of this one

warnings : slight nsfw mentions, violence, death, minor book spoilers, ambiguous ending

- MDNI, some NSFW themes under the cut-

ghost!aemond who cursed all the gods new and old for ripping away the only happiness he had left. was it not enough they had stolen his eye at such a young age? stolen his birthright of having a dragon? cursed him as the second son who was always destined to be second best.

now here you were, off to be married to a cunt of a man with no worthy title. to him, nobody was worthy enough for your hand. not even him.

you stayed together until the day before you wedding night, sitting across from the fireplace as you both sat in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire, allowing the flames to illuminate both your features

“dare i confess that i’m.. afraid?”

“of what, my dear sapphire?”

“of becoming nothing but a brood mare, only destined to pop out heirs to continue his cursed bloodline.”

the very though made the former prince’s hands clench at his sides as he- oh so badly- wished he could be the one betrothed to you, to deflower you, to have you birth as many of his heirs as you wished.

“i won’t allow it.”

“you have no choice, neither do i for that matter.”

aemond thought very long and hard, shutting his eye as he turned his body towards your own, placing a ghostly hand on top of yours as determination flared in his violet eye.

“listen well-”

you don’t know what possessed you to come to the heart of the Streets of Silk, your hood covering your features as you maneuvered your way through the sweaty bodies, holding in the grimace as they tugged and pushed at your cloak in hopes of gaining your attention

your eyes followed along to the furthest corner of the brothel, ignoring the naked bodies alongside you

“you must be the White Witch.”

“and you must be desperate to seek the help from the likes of me.” she smirked, glancing at one of the workers as they closed the curtains to give you both privacy, something that was rare in the brothels

“what is it you need? the head of your worst enemy? a twist of fate? a seed to be planted in your womb? name your bargain, my dear.”

“is it.. possible to bring someone back? from- from the dead?”

“the dead? most folk would rather the opposite. what is it you seek to bring back? a father, relative? perhaps.. a lover?” she snickered as the red crept along you cheeks

“so that is what you seek. i warn you that every deal comes with a price, one that will surely consume you.”

“anything, truly i would do anything.”

“a life for a life, my dear. that is the price.”

---

to say you were nervous was an understatement as you allowed your handmaidens to prepare you for your wedding.

“you look beautiful!” your handmaiden boasted as she continued placing the pins into your braids, glancing at you from the mirror of your vanity as you gave her a forced smile

it was not long as the ceremony took place, your new-found husband tugging and parading you around as if you were his new prize- which you assumed you were as he boasted to the lords of what a kind and dutiful wife you were meant to be

the white witch’s words plagued your mind as you listened to your husband excuse the both of you, wishing for nothing more than to bring you to your shared chambers

“a life for a life, my dear. that is the price.”

“you wish for me to kill someone and in return... he comes back to me?”

“if only it were that easy. you would need an article of his, hair.. a prized possession to burn, only then could you take a life and return it to your beloved.”

and it was difficult, horrible even as you crept around the castle that night, knowing your father had kept many historical relics that were significant to the Targaryen namesake.

it sent chills down your spine as you snuck your way through the vast halls, your eyes straining in the darkness as your walked by relic after relic from the towering skull of balerion, to what you seeked the most-

the skull of aemond targaryen that had washed along the shore, the blade of Dark Sister still lodged in the eye socket

“it’s such an unflattering thing to have in your chambers, my love.” your husband would scold as you were both left alone, refraining from shooting him the harshest glare you could muster as he toyed with the skull, juggling it from hand to hand as you ripped it from his grasp

“sentimental value, if you would.” you’d sigh as you illuminated the fireplace, feigning contentment as you turned your body towards your husband

your actions held no suspicion as your husband set it along the nightstand, arms wrapping around your body as he kissed down your neck, almost a bit too eager for the consummation of your marriage

heaving out a sigh- that he foolishly considered a sigh of content, you had swept your arm along the table, effectively knocking the skull into the fire as your husband lifted you onto the wood, hands tugging at your garments at you watched the skull light the fire brighter than it had before

fighting back the shivers of disgust at another man’s hands on your body, your own slid up your skirts, feeling the cold of the dagger as you slowly unsheathed it, clenching your eyes shut as you forcefully brought it into the air and plunged it straight into your husband’s back

letting out whimper after whimper, you shifted your weight to lean against your husband’s body, both of you topping onto the ground as you straddled his waist, delivering stab after stab as the tears fell from your face

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you pleaded, no longer able to distinguish if the wet of your cheeks was from the tears or the splatter of blood as grotesque squelches echoed around the room

you panted heavily as you pulled the dagger from his chest, clattering the weapon against the floor as you cupped the lifeless face of the man you were married to, letting out defeated whimpers as his cold body stilled under your own

it wasn’t until you heard labored breaths under you did the goosebumps creep up your arms, almost falling over as a hand moved to cup your cheek as you were met with piercing violet eyes

“my sweet, sweet sapphire.”

304 notes · View notes

v3nusxsky · 1 year

Note

Could I please request a lady lesso X reader. R is hired as an English teacher cause after the merge they realised they should probably start teaching their students core subjects.

R is a complete nerd and will go on rants for hours about literature and their favourite books/poems however r has a very insecure side that nobody gets to see which has caused r to develop an eating disorder which has gone unchecked.

I'll let you have full creative freedom to figure out a romance plot for it so please feel free to absolutely destroy me emotionally with angst or make it as fluffy and soft to your hearts content :)

Hello my lovely anon. I hope this is okay for you and I apologise for the angst I broke my own heart writing this but it was a great release of a bad day <3

Words between the Pages

*Authors note~ I know I say this a lot here but I love this prompt, I feel like I really relate to R here. Also going to formally apologise here for what I'm about to do *

Trigger warnings ~ eating disorder relapsing not knowing what's happening to them angst angst character (hurt possible death ;)

Prompt~ see the ask^^^^

It had been a few years now, you had taken up the new English position at the school for good and evil. Since the merger they had decided it was time to introduce some core subjects that would benefit the students no matter what realm they entered. English was one of those. And you had a natural affinity for that. Your favourite part of the subject was anything related to literature. Novels and poems were your source of comfort on those hard days. For you, they numbed the pain like alcohol or drugs for others. You even wrote some of your own work, to express anything that was chipping away at your fragile heart.

After a year at the school, you began to realise you had feelings for the fiery dean. Not something you had planned on, and you knew you'd have no hope. She alluded a sexy confidence in her every move. You, remained shy and introverted, preferring the company of books to other people. You weren't even sure she would've noticed you. But she had. She loved how you'd get flustered in her presence and forgot your train of thought. It wasn't an uncommon reaction in her presence but with you it was different. You were enticing and addicting without even trying.

You began to write poems of your thoughts and feelings on the women, in a little black note pad that seemed to be glued to your hand. Where ever you went so did the book. It was your most prized possession and something you truly didn't want anyone else to read, personal thoughts and feelings lay bare in the book. So that's why you panicked when you couldn't find the book. All your secrets, littered through the pages hidden by words there. All it would take is a sharp mind to read between the lines and your heart would be exposed. You had to find that book.

Unfortunately for you, one of the Never students had found it and brought it to their Dean. The one mind you knew was more than capable of understanding the meanings. But one good thing came out of it, the first poem was based on your feelings for Leonora Lesso, which stunned the women and prevented her reading any further. Actually that one poem is what began your relationship.

You'd been together for two years now, most of your secrets were out in the open air, but one remained. The deepest and darkest locked away safely in your heart. Lesso knew you were extremely insecure about your body, it was obvious to everyone really, the way you dressed, the way you stood or sat and even the nervous flash in your eyes as food was mentioned. But Lesso knew more than others, it had taken so long for you to be comfortable showing her your body, and the night you did you broke down in tears. That hurt her heart truly, you seemed so small and broken and all she could do is wonder what caused such a reaction from you and how she'd kill them. No one would get away with making her girl feel like her own body wasn't anywhere near perfection. You were. True perfection, if only you could see yourself through her eyes then maybe this could've all been prevented.

It was one fatal accident that exposed you. During archery classes a arrow came hurling in your direction, seemingly from absolutely no where. You weren't able to react quick enough due to the weakened state of your body, not eating well the past few months was seriously affecting you, only now would you truly know just how much damage you'd done. The arrow hit a centre meter away from your right lung. The pain causing you to collapse on the hard surface below your feet. The fall and blood spilling from your body causing you to lose consciousness.

The pain was constant, unlike something you'd never felt before. You were in and out of consciousness due to the weakened state of your body and now the blood you were losing, you knew this wouldn't be good. The students around you panicking not knowing what to do, not wanting to touch you and make it worse. The fear of touching the Deans girlfriend battling the fear of not helping you. One of them must have ran to grab your girlfriend, as you came back around once more you felt her hand in your hair and her words being whispered in your ear. She was here.

"Dove, what on earth were you doing out here? We have a medic coming hold on for me. Don't leave me love. Open those pretty eyes for me, that's it good girl" she whispered the tears soaking her words as much as they were staining her cheeks. The drops were falling from her face onto your sunken in cheeks. "N-ora I, I'm sorry. I love you" you whispered out in broken sobs as you bled out through her hands that were tightly pressed over the wound. When had they taken the arrow out? You could feel the life slowly leaving your exhausted body.

"Dove, hold on please, you have the strength I know you do. Please! You can do this." She pleaded with you watching as your eyelids were fluttering shut "keep those pretty eyes on me love. Please. I love you don't leave me!" Her cries were breaking your heart. But in that shattering heart you knew this was not going to get any better, you were dying. Lesso screaming for medics as she felt your heart rate decrease dramatically. The beats dangerously spread apart now. You were dying. She was losing you. You both knew it too. The students seemingly turned to shield you from prying eyes, out of respect or fear you weren't quite sure but it gave you the chance for one last wish.

"Kiss me" you spluttered gasping for air, and she complied instantly. Your lips met hers as she poured every ounce of love she had in the kiss, tears spilling onto your closed eyes as more tears leaked from your eyes. Lesso pulled back for air noticing you weren't kissing her back any more and let out a gut wrenching scream. Her love, her life and future wife was gone.

Word count 1227

#fanfic #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lesso angst #angst #anon reply #anon request

122 notes · View notes