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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months

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The girl with the pearl necklace (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving) Talks of race, colorism, racism, and self-esteem issues.

A/N: This has to be my most personal fic. It might not be as universal because it is part of my personal experience with race as a mixed person living in what is essentially a mixed region. I hope I do not get a bad response, but I will remind you what the title of my blog says.

“YOUR HAIR IS ugly.” The girl says, displeased. She is trying to comb through your hair with some coconut oil, but instead of curling prettily, your hair just falls flat. She has been at it for at least half an hour, her tugs to your hair getting increasingly more painful.

This time, you cannot hide the flinch. Pain, you had excused with being her first day. Making a mess, with her being unused to your hair. But calling you ugly? She was but a serving girl, she had no right.

The girl looks horrified at what she has just said. She is barely fourteen. But yet again, you are too. You have never called anyone ugly to their faces. You keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.

“She is young, milady.” The older maid, the one that is supposed to supervise her, says. She smooths your hair back, trying to fix it. Her touch gets more and more desperate the more she tries. Your hair will simply not obey. The younger one has put so much product on your hair, it looks greasy and unwashed.

You stare at your features in the mirror. The lighter skin, the shock of unruly hair, not quite a wave, not quite a coil, but rather something in the middle. Bad hair, your previous maids called it. You wonder why you bothered trying with maids again.

It is your cousin’s wedding. A lovely young woman, with beautiful dark hair that you bet never reacts this way.

“I am sorry, milady.” The younger maid offers.

Your eyes are still fixated on your mirror. You wonder if your mother ever has these troubles too. With her sleek hair, and foreign features, you doubt anyone dares call her ugly. She may not have a title, as you do, but she was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Lys.

But you. Oh, you. With your too wide nose, but too upturned to be a dornish one. With your high cheekbones in a short face. With dark eyelashes, purple eyes, and hair that is not quite right.

It screams outsider. It screams, not here, not there. Not a famed beauty in Lys, not quite the Sword of the Morning.

“Get out.” You say, to the serving girl. “Get out, both of you.”

You need to wash your hair three times for all the product to come out. You are late to the wedding.

The serving girl is relocated to the kitchens, where no one needs to talk to her. The older one is sent to tend to your father. You pass her sometimes, in the hallways of Starfall, and wonder if she is thinking your hair is ugly too.

You wonder the same thing on the day your fate changes. You are getting dressed when you see her, an ill omen in the middle of Starfall. Prince Qoren has summoned all the unwed noble ladies of Dorne to Sunspear, wishing to announce something. You think it can’t be anything good, considering he has refused to use a royal proclamation to do so.

The travel to Sunspear is taxing. You travel to the capital accompanied by your mother, a day before the actual meeting is set to take place. It allows the two of you to spend the night in a manse before having to meet the royal family.

She doesn’t know how to fix your hair. Your mother’s hair is pale silver, easy to manage and twist in the ways women up north prefer. She had tried hard to tame yours as a child, spraying it with water and stretching the curls with a brush so it laid flat. It never seemed to work as it did in hers.

You pin your hair up, a clip made of pearls and amethysts keeping it up. You do not have the same texture most women here have, that ensures gorgeous volume, so you play to your strengths, showcasing the deep color you have and using it as a backdrop for gorgeous accessories.

Your dress is chosen with great care. A deep lavender, with a tasteful cleavage, held at your shoulders by twin brooches of falling stars. Not even hearing your mother say you look beautiful eases your anxiety. You had seen her, the servant. She only appeared in your life when something was about to happen.

You are not the superstitious kind, but when you stand in a line in front of Prince Qoren’s throne with all the noble maidens of Dorne, you know you were right. That woman was a bad omen.

Prince Qoren smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am glad all of you chose to accept my invitation.” He stands. All the women in the room drop into a curtsy. “When I look at you, I see the best this Kingdom has to offer. It makes me proud. And it makes me confident enough to know I can ask this of you.”

You tense. Whatever he is going to ask is something bad, you can already tell. Some of the more clueless girls in the room look flattered by the delicate compliment, but it is a tactic you know well. You have been mocked enough to know that when someone compliments you so elaborately, a but usually follows. And it tends to be devastating.

His kind demeanor isn’t fooling you. Not in the least.

“We have never coddled our women, as the other Kingdoms do. War is coming for us, and we need strong allies. The Iron Throne offers us their support, but as always, it comes with a price.”

War. Of course it comes down to it. You have heard your parents whispering about it when they think you cannot hear. How Prince Qoren is thinking of sending his troops, instead of his money. How he expects your brother or father to lead them, sometimes against the Triarchy, sometimes against the Iron Throne.

It seems he has made his choice. Against the Triarchy. Your heart is seized by the sudden terror of the thought of your father going to war and not coming home. His sword, Prince Qoren called him.

Your house has been Dorne’s sword for decades. Ever since the first Dayne picked up their sword from the heart of a flaming star, you have defended the Kingdom against their enemies. Your very home once burned because of it.

Amongst the tales of flaming swords and fallen stars, you had never thought war would touch your home. Your brother was the current wielder of Dawn. Your father the head of your house. They would have to fight.

“A marriage pact. From a daughter of Dorne, to a Targaryen Prince. To bind our kingdoms, to ensure peace in this new alliance we embark. Dorne must remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken. House Martell has no daughters of their own to offer, so we ask one of you to go on our stead. It’s us who will pay your dowry, and you shall always have a home here.”

His words barely register as you brood about the upcoming war. You have heard of the Crabfeeder, and his brutality. You think of your kind, kind brother, and his sweet smile. He is a few years younger than you, untested in battle yet.

Some girls cheer. You look at your mother and notice she has the same stricken look you must be sporting. Some of the other parents talk animatedly between themselves, calculating the potential such a match offers their daughters. None seem to realize what it means.

War. War will come for Dorne, and the situation might turn out so bad, proud Prince Qoren will need the dragons’ help. The once unbowed man is being made to bow so low his forehead is touching the floor.

Prince Qoren raises a hand, quieting the hall.

“I am not asking for volunteers. I simply wished to gaze upon you myself, and decide who will marry Daemon Targaryen.”

Mumbles start again, some girls sounding disgruntled. Others preen and titter, trying to attract the Prince’s gaze. You keep your eyes firmly trained on the wall in front of you.

You would rather not marry this Daemon Targaryen. The politics in the other kingdoms are not your forte, but you have a vague notion of him being the brother to the current King. He must have a dragon, of course. And you think he is the one who has been in the conflict at the Stepstones, so he must be some sort of warrior.

No matter how much of a catch he might be, you wish to stay. If war is truly coming, you cannot bear to think of being separated from your family. Your mother will need you, when your father and brother are called away. And you don’t imagine yourself in a foreign land, waiting for news about them on your own.

Prince Qoren makes his way down the line of maidens. You barely spare him a glance, your mind thousands of miles away. But he pauses in front of you, looking at the shooting stars in your shoulders, the deep lavender of your dress.

“I hear Daemon Targaryen likes his women fair.” He comments. “And you are the fairest of us all.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. It takes all of your willpower not to fidget under his gaze. You give him an awkward smile.

Prince Qoren reaches to touch the brooch. His hands are elegant, fingers long and lean. He is about your mother’s age, and wears it just as well.

“Lady Dayne, is it?”

“Yes, my Prince.” You say, meeting his eyes. You may not be a classic dornish beauty, but you were still raised by the most charming woman in Lys. There are hardly any other women with manners as refined as yours, and you know all about the games men in power enjoy playing.

You cannot fawn over him. You cannot show him weakness. Because if you do, you will be common in his eyes, unespecial. It is not about beauty. It never is. That thought has given you great comfort during the years.

“How fitting. My dearest sword will be the one to defend her kingdom.”

Your hands begin to sweat. His choice is predictable. It is the same thing you had been thinking about your father and brother, House Dayne is the sword of Dorne. And swords, even more feminine ones, are only useful when war comes.

It doesn’t make it easier, that you should have expected it. It only makes your chest hurt. You do not dare look at your mother.

Instead, you drop into a curtsy and look at Qoren Martell as if he has made you the happiest woman in the world.

“I will be honored, my Prince.”

He smiles.

“Please, call me Qoren. We are to be family now.”

You look at your mother, insides turning to ice. You wonder how long until he takes you away from her.

In the end, it only takes a month. Qoren had been eager to depart and fix the realm’s issues. You now know plenty about the war in the Stepstones. Apparently, your future husband had secured the victory, giving the killing blow to the leader of the opposing army. But while won, the threat to your Kingdom remains. The Triarchy shall always reform, and not even the death of the Crabfeeder can stop them. Like one of those awful serpents from myth, you cut off its head and two more appear.

Pulling your support as the Triarchy was losing had been a bad move. They blamed Dorne for their defeat, and the Iron Throne thought the dornish were cowardly, only making their choice when it was clear who would lose. To avoid petty revenges and more bloodshed, Dorne needed new allies. And you needed them fast.

“We negotiated a new title for you.” Qoren tells you, as the carriage takes you from the docks and towards the Red Keep. “When you marry, you will become a Princess too, instead of remaining a Lady.”

“That sounds exciting.” You give him a bright smile. It's a very genuine one. Hearing yourself announced in such a manner would please you. “It will be strange, of course, changing it.”

“Nonsense.” Qoren laughs. “Only the best for my daughter.”

You falter, and decide to peer out of the window to hide your expression from him. You do not want him to think you are ungrateful.

The night is awfully cold, but you barely feel it. You are dressed in a purple velvet dress, still amazed by the material. You had never worn something so expensive, or made of such a warm fabric. It has the traditional dornish cut, with a plunging cleavage, but you find the added long sleeves fascinating.

The royal family had spared no expense in preparing your trousseau. As a daughter of House Martell, only the best would do. Obviously, all in their colors. This purple velvet gown was one of the few purple items you had been allowed to bring. It saddened you, having to forsake the color. You had always felt pretty in purple, since it matched your eyes.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about everything. Being sent to protect your kingdom and, by extension, your family from war was a great thing. But you were also being asked to leave your identity behind.

Never having left Dorne before, the journey had excited you, but also made you feel acutely lonely. And the thought of having to let behind your family, your colors, and even your name, only served to make you feel worse.

Your father would not be the one giving you away during your wedding, nor would your maiden cloak be the one of House Dayne. Instead, you would wear the sun and spear of House Martell.

But at this moment, as Qoren gets out of the carriage and extends you a hand, you are a Dayne. The purple dress acts a beacon, attracting the gaze of every servant in the vicinity. You stand tall, a star pendant hanging between your breasts.

You will enter decked on your colors. You will greet your future husband as you are, dressed in royal purple. Be a Dayne one last time, before war takes even that from you.

You breathe in and out, the polluted night sky so different from the beautiful stars in Dorne. This is it, you think, a chance to start over. To be whoever you wish to be. These people do not know what a dornishwoman should look like, or how she should behave. They do not know your hair is odd, and so are your eyes. They will only know what you want them to know.

“Go change, my sword. Your maids have selected a dress.” Qoren places his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the Red Keep. Your smile falls. For a second, you had thought you could attend the feast as you were, draped in your familiar purple and silver. “Make us all proud.”

You should have known better. But it is no matter now. A new life awaits you. Not even Qoren can sour your mood. You square your shoulders and smile.

So focused you are on your inner motivational speech, you do not notice the man watching you, his features covered by a black hood.

The day of your marriage, Daemon presents you with a beautiful pearl necklace. It is made of the purest pearls, with the biggest one you have ever seen right in the middle. It is bigger than the fingertip of your thumb, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a gold dragon.

“My cousin helped me commission this.” He says, during the wedding feast. He presents it to you in a small box, insides lined with velvet. As you reach for it, Daemon closes it, nearly catching your fingers with it. You laugh, startled. He grins at you. “Ah, I want to help you put it on.”

Your fingers fiddle with the simple silver chain you wear, star pendant hanging between your breasts. The hesitation must show on your face because Qoren, at your side, answers for you.

“She is honored, I am sure. Such a gorgeous jewel, to sit in the neck of the greatest beauty Dorne has to offer.”

You smile, trying not to let the sudden flare up of bad memories the words bring you. You remember a young girl, calling your hair ugly. Your grandmother’s face, sneering as you passed her in the hallways. Half-breed, she says, after having too much wine. Not quite right.

The subtle, more hidden, cruelties of girlhood that made your heart ache. When you did not make the list of the most beautiful girls some page was making. How much of a late bloomer you were, by dornish standards. How you had to wait so long for your first kiss, when it seemed like all the other girls were having them already.

Will this be all your life will ever be? Looking for the poison dripping from each word? Doubting every compliment?

You give Daemon what you hope is a seductive look, from beneath dark lashes. You are not good at seduction, having been an observer most of your life. But you are good at pretending.

It has worked, so far. Your arrival, on Qoren’s arm and with an honor guard fit for a Queen, had made people look at you differently. Men, specially, look at you as something exotic. They whisper about your Lyseni mother, and the tricks you must know how to perform. It fills you with dread because once again your looks set you apart, and you don’t quite feel like a person. You had hoped things would be different here.

And they are. Their attention is different, but it’s still wrong and you don’t quite believe them. They only want you because of the novelty, because of rumors about dornishwomen, about how your mother trapped your father. Not because you are beautiful or desirable. It’s sickening.

“Come, husband. Take my necklace off.” And Daemon obeys you, coming to stand behind you. Before he can begin to fumble with your hair, you reach for your hair on your own and lift it to expose your nape. You twist it into a pretend up do, holding it up with your hand.

The gesture is as languid as you can make it, highlighting the curve of your arm, and the elegance of your movements. The cold air hits your neck, making the hairs there stand up.

You both feel and hear Daemon’s sigh. He blows a soft puff of air against your hair, the noise very loud in the small table that seats only Qoren, Daemon, and you. The Queen has already retired, her sickly husband in tow. The Princess and her husband are dancing merrily between the tables.

When you had met Daemon, your first impression of him had been that he was very Valyrian looking and surprisingly whole for someone fresh out of war. And then, he had looked at Princess Rhaenyra and you had understood what Qoren meant when he said he liked his women fair.

Your stomach had turned, back then. Valyrian indeed. Rhaenyra was all milk white skin, light lashes and soft features. You couldn’t compete, you had thought. But then, you had noticed how his eyes followed little Laena Velaryon and you had known there was a chance for you to succeed too. It wasn’t skin color, but Valyrian heritage.

You have been trying to seduce him, with various degrees of success. The attention men pay you is helping you, and so are your purple eyes. You hope tonight goes well. You think you have just about enough Lyseni blood in you to keep him hooked.

His hands gently unclasp your pendant. He pockets it, you think. A memento or because he intends to give it back to you? You feel as his fingers whisper against your collarbones, and this time it’s you who sighs.

You are dramatic about it. Your lips part, as if about to be kissed. Your head tilts back.

“Beautiful.” Daemon whispers, in your ear. He kisses the shell of it.

“It is a gorgeous necklace.” You reply, feeling your face heating up. You feel drunk already, and you have not drank a single goblet of wine yet.

“No. You.” And the kiss against your ear becomes open-mouthed, his heavy breath filling your hearing. His hips brush against the backrest of the chair, searching for closeness. This is something that cannot be faked, you think. Not this kind of desire.

He wants you. He wants you, and you only wish to close your eyes and let him take you right here at this table. You are no blushing maiden, for sure, but you still are new to intimacy. Too many hang-ups about your body and not quite pleasing attempts have not contributed to building a vast knowledge of it. The fact that he wants you so badly makes you wild.

“I think that is my cue.” Qoren says, breaking you out of your stupor. He drains his cup, clearly in preparation for leaving. You had never felt such a connection with someone, not even in Dorne, where pleasure was loud and open. You press your hands to your face, ashamed of having forgotten he was there. Daemon simply chuckles.

“You don’t have…”

“Dearest sword.” He says, as he plants a kiss to your forehead. “You are as tempting as your husband is selfish. He doesn’t seem in the mood to share you.”

“I am not.” Daemon agrees, squeezing your shoulder. He exchanges a look with Qoren over your head. You can only see Qoren’s answering smirk.

“I think I should call for the mummers early.”

You and Daemon slip away as a company of puppet masters from Dorne make their grand entrance, throwing colorful powders in the air.

Later that night, as he sleeps in your shared rooms, you slip on a robe and stand in front of the mirror. Daemon has a massive one, right at the foot of the bed. Mirrors have always scared you, and sleeping so comfortably as he does with one reflecting him is unfathomable. You only intend to cover it.

Mirrors are supposed to be portals to other worlds, your mother used to say. The thought is stuck in your head, so you have grabbed a linen and are ready to place it over it when something catches your attention.

Your reflection. She is glowing, barefoot and in a simple robe, but still wearing the necklace your husband has given you. It should look gauche. It should look too much. But somehow, the necklace looks just right in your neck. You remember Daemon’s eyes, filled with desire when you had bared your neck to him. The sensual way he had touched you tonight, cradling you in his arms, rolling around in his bed. The necklace on the nightstand.

You look at the way the pearls light up your face. For the first time, you feel beautiful.

You make your first mistake a few days after.

It’s the first day of the week, and the Queen has asked you to have tea with her. You go, happily. After Qoren’s and the guards left, you began to feel lonely. There is not much to do here, either. Most of your usual entertainments are considered too sinful or crass. You can not even go for a walk around the city because they deem it too dangerous.

The meeting with the Queen is sour. She is trying, you can tell, but you still hear the disdain in her voice when she talks about your customs, or your people. She eyes the necklace you wear with distaste.

You get the feeling she buys the tales about you. That you are some dornish beauty, exotic and trained in the arts of seducing men. She comments on your mother, on her luck for marrying up, and you have to remember yourself to bite your tongue.

From what Daemon tells you, she is very lucky herself. Going from Lady to Queen is almost as impressive as going from merchant’s daughter to Lady, and you know which one of them did not need to spread her legs for it, and it’s not her. Not if you judge by her plain face.

You look at her, scandalized and pious as she is, ranting about acceptance of bastards of all things, and you surprise yourself at your own cruelty. You should not have thought that. But you are just so angry…

You take a deep breath and look away, trying to calm down. It is then you notice. In the door of the solar, standing to attention, is a man who looks like you.

He has inky dark hair, and olive skin. His eyes are dark, and he has a light stubble, probably because when you have hair as dark as he does, it is difficult to hide body hair. He wears armor and a white cloak. Kingsguard, you think. Why hasn’t anyone told you there was someone else from Dorne here, too? How could you not know?

Queen Alicent follows your eyes, suddenly noticing you are not paying attention. Your eyes are glued to the knight. She frowns in disapproval.

“That’s Ser Criston Cole. My sworn shield.” She stresses the word my. You grab your teacup and take a sip, to hide your smile. Is the pious Queen in love with her knight? “And a member of the Kingsguard.”

She is reminding you of his vow of celibacy. You almost laugh. If she wasn’t so repressed, she would realize she is the one who wants to jump his bones. The only interest you have in him is the fact that he might become a friend.

“Do your guards always stand inside your rooms?” You ask her, doing your best to sound puzzled. “The King’s guards stand outside his, and so does the sworn shield of the Princess.”

“…” Queen Alicent blushes, and averts her gaze. There are no further invitations to have tea with her.

You spend a lot of time staring at Ser Criston. He never returns your gaze. You seek him at mealtimes, you greet him in the corridors, but he always manages to evade you before you can properly start a conversation.

Daemon notices. He always does. He is finely attuned to you, his perfect wife. His prize after the war, his star. A study in contradictions, brazen and bold one moment, shy the next. He seems to like you even more for it. What he doesn’t seem to like is your sudden fixation on Criston Cole.

“You should stay away from him, star.” Daemon whispers, when he catches you staring at him once more. His voice sounds irritated. Accusing. As if you have done something wrong. It makes you bristle immediately.

“I am doing nothing wrong.”

“No one said you are. But Cole is….” Daemon shakes his head. “It is unwise. That’s all I mean to say.”

“What is unwise?” You scowl. You are glad that the table is long enough that no one else overhears you. Knowing Daemon, things are about to get nasty. He will throw in so many insults, Ser Criston would beat him into a pulp if he heard. No matter how competent your husband is, you still worry. “Trying to talk to him?”

“He is a cunt.” He says, cutting your meat for you as if you were a child. From your place in the dais, you seek him once more. Ser Criston is standing on the entrance of the hall, watching carefully as his Queen dines with the King and the two of you.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks towards you. Then, he quickly averts his eyes.

“I merely wish to speak with him.” You say. “He is like me. Dornish.”

“Ser Crispin will only disappoint you. Both in personality and in prowess.” Daemon warns. He pushes his goblet closer to you. “Here, try this. Arbor gold. How does it compare to the swill you like to drink?”

You take a sip of his goblet. You scrunch up your nose, The wine is cloyingly sweet, lacking the strong notes Dornish Reds always have.

“Ugh.” Your lips pucker up in disgust. Daemon laughs, and steals a kiss from you, licking into your mouth for good measure. But before you can begin to properly enjoy it, Queen Alicent coughs. You push Daemon away, even though you are doing nothing scandalous. “You taste like it too.”

“And you taste of that swill you dornish call wine. Yet, I am not complaining.” He takes a sip of his goblet.

“Are you jealous of him?” You ask, suddenly. You have heard about the rivalry between the two of them. Everyone knew of how Cole had obtained his position. He had been a simple knight, until Daemon had lost to him during a tourney. The act had caught Princess Rhaenyra’s attention, and secured him a white cloak. “Ser Criston?”

The thought of Daemon thinking you want to invite Cole to your bed is enough to amuse you. While in Dorne, paramours are more common than here, you are finding monogamy pleasant. You had never been much for sex without love, after all. Only one taste had been enough to satiate your curiosity.

“You shouldn’t toy with fire.” He growls, perhaps confusing your amusement with a deliberate attempt to tease him. It only makes your smile widen.

“Did you know…?” You begin, with an airy tone. Daemon sets down his cutlery. He turns to look at you, licking his lips. “My ancestor, Ser Joffrey Dayne, crossed paths with Queen Visenya. She burned Starfall, after he attacked Oldtown.”

“House Targaryen has always defended the Highcunts, it seems.” Daemon’s brows furrow together. It is no surprise he knows about it. One of the things that have bonded the two of you together is the fact that both of you are obsessed with family history. What he doesn’t know is why you are referencing it now.

You smile. One of your hands goes to toy with the necklace he has given you and that has become your constant accessory, bringing attention to your neck. It is a deliberate move. You intend to be ravished tonight

“I do not fear fire. We Daynes got Dawn from the heart of a falling star. “

Daemon kisses your temple.

“Oh? And I cannot wait to see you burn.” And he is pulling you to your feet, and you are slipping outside with a hurried curtsy.

Despite Daemon’s warnings, you still decide to approach Criston Cole. It takes you almost a week to build up the courage to do it, and another more to mention it to Daemon.

You do not want him to feel blindsided, so you include him in your planning. It is only when he shows up at the Sept that you realize Daemon intends to go with you.

Even the Septon pauses when he sees the two of you enter the Sept. Considering the court thinks you a temptress, and him a rogue, you are not surprised.

You are not particularly pious. While you had been educated on the Faith of the Seven, Dorne practiced a much diluted version. You had not attended a service in quite some time, but you try to focus on it to keep your nervousness at bay.

The plan is to intercept Ser Criston when the service ends. Daemon is under strict instruction to remain sitting, as to not unnerve the other man. But of course, things do not go according to plan.

As soon as the Septon gives his last blessing, you sprung up and step closer to the knight.

“Ser Criston, a word?” You ask him, your voice soft and nonthreatening. It is not as if you want to impose your presence on him, but you are unsure of why he flees rooms when he sees you. Perhaps he is shy, or perhaps you have offended him, but you will never know if he doesn’t speak to you.

“Do not talk to me!” He snarls, getting up from the bench. You try to reach for his arm, but Cole is quicker than you, grabbing your wrist tightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Daemon getting up from the bench where he was waiting for you.

“Ser… I only wished you to invite you to have tea with me.”

“I will not get into your bed, Lady Targaryen.” The man snarls at you. “Perhaps it is allowed in Dorne, but I assure you, here we do things differently than your people. Propositioning a man is…”

“I am not propositioning you!” You say, hotly. The words he is spewing at you leave you bewildered. You have never heard another dornishman speak so. “What do you even mean by that? Your people! You are dornish too.”

“I am not.” But before he can give you an explanation, Daemon is stepping in, and unsheathing his sword. He places his body between Ser Criston and you.

“I would suggest you unhand my wife.” His voice is cold. “Or you will lose the hand.”

“And you! You support her… Her… She should be sent back to Dorne, but she doesn’t even belong there, does she?” And Ser Criston stomps off, clearly unwilling to engage Daemon in what would probably end up as a fight to death.

Daemon looks willing to go after him, but you make a pitiful noise that is a cross between a sob and a whine. The rejection hurt more than usual, having grown unused to cruelness during your stay on King’s Landing. And the remark about you not belonging in Dorne?

It stung. You had not heard that insult in ages. It made you think of the serving girl, and your grandmother muttering you had bad hair, of your odd little features and strange coloring. Not quite Andal, not quite Rhoynar, not quite Lyseni.

Ser Criston looked like you. Of everyone, you would have expected him to understand. To see you.

You had only wanted a reminder of home. Careful with what you wish for, indeed. Your eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Oh, that cunt. I’ll cut off his dick and feed him to Caraxes…” Daemon mutters, a thunderous look in his purple eyes. He then presses his forehead to yours, giving you an impish grin. “Not that it would be much food, would it? Like a worm, I bet.”

It makes you laugh, despite yourself.

“There you are.” Daemon smiles, brushing your tears away. “Come. I need you to see something.”

He takes your hand and leads you towards your shared rooms. You frown, slightly. Does he have some sort of present to give you? It’s unusual to be going there so early in the morning.

When Daemon opens the door, a maid is still sweeping the room. He barely spares her a glance, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The girl looks disgruntled. You offer her a silver dragon for her troubles as she leaves, noticeably cheering her up.

The bed is freshly made, and the room smells of lavender. Outside the windows, the birds chirp. You see nothing unusual.

“What was I supposed to see? You interrupting the maid? Poor girl.” You mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Do try to make her life easier.”

But he doesn’t answer, choosing instead to pull out the chair in your vanity. It is a rarity, the whole set a gift from Qoren to furnish your new rooms. It has a beautiful mirror attached that reflects you from the waist up when you sit in front of it.

“Come.” Daemon says, simply. So you do. You know better by now than to disagree with him when he is in one of his moods.

You sit in the chair, dutifully. Your reflection looks a fright, so you try to avoid looking at yourself too much. He stands behind you, hands caressing your shoulders lighty, prompting you to look up.

“I have noticed.” Daemon starts, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “That you are always self-conscious when I look at you for too long. Or when I take your clothes off.”

You avert your eyes. It is true. You feel strange when Daemon looks at your body. The awe he holds in his gaze is both exciting and humbling. You never feel worthy of such worship.

“I would say we are past the maiden’s modesty.” He chuckles. “We made sure of that, didn’t we?”

“I…”

Daemon begins to unlace your gown. The presence of the mirror is making you self-conscious, so you reach for your bodice, and hold it up with one hand.

He pauses. He studies your expression, before dropping a kiss to your curls.

“Don’t cover yourself, wife. I love looking at you.”

You take a deep breath. You want to tell him the truth, for once. Daemon has started to suspect that despite how much you enjoy intercourse with him, something is wrong with your self-esteem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have staged this intervention.

“I just don’t like how I look much.” You keep your voice low. Shame begins to freeze you up, making you tense and unable to speak. Your heart beats loudly in your ears.

“Madness.” Daemon laughs. He kisses you, slow and sweet. His lips move tenderly against yours, coaxing you out of your shell. You wonder how such an impatient man can have such infinite patience when it comes to you.

The thought makes you melt. Daemon smiles against your mouth and pulls back. He comes back to standing behind you.

“Look.” He orders. And you, helpless under his spell, cannot disobey.

You look at your reflection. Your hair is in even more disarray than before. Your lips are red and kiss swollen. And your eyes… You look dazed.

“We are just getting started.” Daemon promises, his hand coming to caress your collarbones. This time, when he pulls down the bodice, you do not fight it.

He kisses your head.

“You asked me once, if I was jealous.” You turn towards him, confused at the sudden change of topic. Daemon shushes you, squeezing the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving pup. You look at yourself again, knowing there is no point in disobeying. Daemon always gets his way.

“I am jealous.” His voice is firm. He leans in, and kisses the top of your hair. His talented, skilled hands, take the pins off from it, so it frames your face once more. You fight the urge to fix it, to give more volume to your roots. You don’t like how limp it falls sometimes. Daemon presses a kiss to your earlobe, and whispers. “Of the very breeze against your hair.

Your eyes widen. You do not dare take them away from the mirror. On it, you watch as he presses a kiss behind your ear, as he mouths at your neck, just barely reaching the necklace that sits there.

“Of the pearls you wear, for holding on to your neck. “ You feel his words against your skin, making you shiver. He wraps it around one of his fingers, the pearls tensing just so to feel more restrictive against your neck.

Your lips part in a sigh. The tension of the pearls makes you think of a collar, and his deft handling of them a leash. Ownership.

“Sometimes, when I see you around court, I imagine this.” He tugs the pearls upwards, placing them between your lips. You watch, in a daze, as your reflection parts her lips more, welcoming him in.

He places the biggest pearl between your teeth. You find yourself mesmerized by this stranger you are watching, being turned into an artwork in front of your very eyes.

“You are exquisite.” Daemon gives the pearls a tug, pulling them slightly up. They catch on your hair, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls. There is something haunting about the image, something that tugs at you and makes you see yourself from his eyes.

Like this, with him calling you exquisite, pearls adorning your face and hair, you can almost believe it.

“Do you know what I think of more, when I see these pearls?” Daemon chuckles. It’s a dark, masculine sound. You are unable to form a word. “Hm. Perhaps I should show you.”

He finishes pulling the necklace from you. Over your head and out they go. Suddenly able to speak, you find yourself at a loss for words.

Daemon kneels behind you. He meets your eyes in the mirror, again.

“I am jealous of the moon, and the sky, and this damn mirror even.” It sounds like nonsense. It should sound like nonsense, but somehow, it is disarming, this newfound honesty of his. The one where he stumbles over words in his eagerness, in his need to call you beautiful, to call you his. “Because you want to gaze at them. Your eyes should be only for me.”

He cradles your face in his palm, forcing you to keep eye contact with your reflection. His thumb brushes over your lips. You just stare.

“And even of the wine you drink, when you wet your lips.”

You kiss his thumb. Your eyes sting. This is quickly turning unbearable.

“Daemon… Please…”

“Oh, but your eyes.” He praises, sounding almost drunk. He begins to kiss a path down your collarbones and towards your breasts. “I love your eyes. They are maddening to me.”

He continues to kiss your skin, inhaling deeply. The closer he gets to your breasts, the hungrier he becomes. Daemon is gorging himself on you, biting and nipping at your bosom, sucking at your nipples until you cannot help the moans coming out from your mouth.

Liquid, molten pleasure, begins accumulating at the base of your spine. Warming up your body, making you sweat with the exertion of keeping still.

“You are so beautiful, I fear anyone will want to steal you away.” Daemon whispers, grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. “And I fear if I don’t hold tight, it will be my fault.”

You look at yourself. At the half lidded eyes, the softness of your chest. At the attitude of surrender, as your thighs part, and you feel him bury his nose on the roses of your mound. As he inhales, trying to memorize your touch, your smell, your sounds. As he decides to drink from you, making your face go slack, brows pinched together, eyes glassy and absent.

Beautiful, you think, as you reach your peak with a scream so loud you fear the rest of the Red Keep might have heard.

Daemon laughs, doing his best attempt to suck a bruise on your thigh.

“And you haven’t even seen what I plan on doing with the pearls.”

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leikeliscomet · 10 months

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“But We Love Martha Jones!” - The Doctor Who Fandom’s Selective Memory of Racism

Be aware that this article contains explicit examples of anti-black racism and misogynoir.

Chapter 2 - Utopia-ish

The constant nitpicking of Martha Jones for reasons white female companions could get away with was blatant anti-black racism. Let’s get that bit clear first and foremost. As a Black person in fandom, watching Black characters get torn apart while never being given the grace of their non-Black castmates is an experience that’s too common. Microaggressions are more subtle so the easiest way to shut down any mentions of racism is to accuse Black fans of making things up or telling us “Well it’s not like REAL racism”. Luckily Doctor Who Tumblr birthed the Martha Jones affirmative action and Aunt Jemima “memes” so I can cross both covert and overt racism off the list. As mentioned in extensive detail in the previous chapter, plus the various Martha Jones articles written before me, the treatment Martha experienced was racist. I don’t care if you personally didn’t like her. I don’t care that you missed Rose. I don’t care that Ten is your smol bean. Martha’s treatment was racist. Freema Agyeman’s treatment was racist. It might not have been everyone. It might not have been you personally. But it was there. The fandom can never be a safe space for POC, specifically Black people if this elephant in the room can’t be addressed over a decade after it arrived.

On paper, you’d assume Martha’s rep was good because “at least she wasn’t a Black stereotype”. Some fans praised her for having a present father, not speaking MLE and not being from the ends. This goes into respectability politics but the fandom’s weirdness about Black Brits and class is not the point of this article. The point is the revisionist history of how Martha was really treated and to do that it helps to know what Black tropes are. The Mammy trope is a Black woman whose main purpose is to serve her white counterparts and during slavery, she mainly cared for the slave owners' children. She is usually fat, dark skin and asexual, not as a representation of those things but as a statement of how if she isn’t used for sexual exploitation like the Jezebel (the promiscuous, reckless, sexualised Black woman), she has no sexual value at all. Her value is serving the needs of others only. Martha doesn’t fit this trope in theory but in practice, she fulfils the sub-categories of this trope both in show and fandom: the disposable Black (girl)friend trope. She is used as Ten’s emotional punching bag before he’s ready for Donna and then Rose again. She had to endure edgy moody S3 Ten so no one else had to. She’s the excuse people use to deflect any critical analysis of how race was handled in RTD1. She’s the fandom’s excuse to deflect from their own racial biases. Racism? No way! Everybody loves Martha Jones! What do you mean?

Some parts of the fandom have tried to mend things by suggesting Martha be paired with other doctors or romantically shipping her with other characters a bit better than Mickey Smith. But does this hold up? As much as I’m a big fan NineMartha as a concept and as someone who honestly saw one-off characters like Riley Vashtee from 42 or Tallulah from Daleks in Manhattan having way more romantic chemistry with Martha than Mickey ever did, simply re-shipping Martha isn’t enough. Doctor Who’s racism isn't exclusive to one doctor, one series or one era and new Martha pairings suggest the issue was “right person, wrong doctor” instead of what the issue actually was: racism. Moffat and Chibnall’s eras weren’t full of golden Black representation either so I doubt the Martha issue would’ve magically disappeared under those two. From Nine’s hostility to Mickey, to Twelve’s hostility to Danny Pink to Thirteen handing a South Asian Spymaster to the Nazis and Eleven only travelling with POC in comics most fans haven’t heard of and being besties with Churchill, simply putting Martha with another Doctor isn’t the serve fans think it is. Even RoseMartha seems like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. If it's not enough for Martha to be compared to Rose, put down in favour of Rose, told she isn’t Rose and told she's worse than Rose in fandom and in show over and over and over, she has to be shipped with Rose too. Martha’s a great character… as long as you can tie her to Rose… again. Even in my own article I have to talk about Rose because Rose is centred in what was supposed to be Martha’s story. A doctor-to-be Black girl from London with a hectic family meets a Time Lord and gets abducted by space rhino police at work in one day. Her main conflict isn’t balancing work and time traveller life, or fighting to get her family back together, or seeing what’s out there in the universe - it's that she isn’t “Rose” enough. The Mammy and her sons’ main thing in common is simple; how well they serve and centre the white characters. In attempts to mend Martha’s treatment she is still only valued in relation to white characters. She should’ve been with Eleven because he would’ve fucked a Black woman. Or maybe Dilfy Twelve. Or a sapphic romance with another female companion who she saw twice or doesn’t actually know. Or maybe Ten in an alternate universe where he supports #nubianqueens. None of this is done to explore sexuality or romance with Black women and is definitely not to centre Black lesbianism and bisexuality. It’s Mammy with a dash of Jezebel. It's adding romantic and sexual value on top of physical and emotional value like a crappy meal deal.

I’m tired of Black women being treated as extensions of white women both in media and in real life. I’m tired of our value being determined by how well we serve white people emotionally, physically, platonically and sexually. And I'm even more tired of white feminism especially in this fandom. It would be so easy to label this article as anti-Rose, anti-Ten or anti-Tenrose to invalidate my whole racial analysis because it's the easy way out. I’ll admit I like both characters individually but not the ship but this isn’t something I decided on since birth - it's my conclusion as a Black fan in a predominantly white fandom, watching a predominantly white show, watching the first companion of my race be told she isn’t good enough compared to the white characters, and that the hatred of her is justified for the greater good of its popular white ship. Black fans can never have this conversation without being told we’re “pitting women against each other” and that Martha and Rose hugged once in S4 so everything's hunky dory. Martha’s happy that Ten found Rose again so what’s the problem? It sends a clear message that Black women’s pain will never matter a much as white women’s feelings. “Rose is amazing! Martha’s amazing! Stop pitting women against women!” but who was pit against who in the first place? These faux girl power posts fail to acknowledge the overlap of race and gender which separates the treatment of Black and white women. It fails to acknowledge Martha’s hate was rooted in anti-black racism. It fails to acknowledge the anti-Rose pushback was in response to how the show and fandom convinced us Rose was the untouchable bar this Black woman failed to meet. It fails to acknowledge Freema Agyeman the actress was targeted not just her character. It fails because the female empowerment rhetoric that leaves the Black ones at the bottom of the pile only “empowers” women of a certain demographic.

The harassment Martha experienced was swept under the rug of “stan wars” but it was so much deeper than that. I’m not saying Martha stans are angels but there was no “Great Stan War” because the sides were never even. At the end of the day no amount of “Martha’s better than Rose” tweets will ever compare to the fact that Martha hate was rooted in misogynoir. Rose was and still is considered the greatest companion of nuwho, whilst Martha is constantly erased and undervalued. Rose’s video views and hashtags have always been bigger than Martha’s. Amy and Clara came after Martha but still surpassed her in popularity and got plenty of fan edits of “The Girl Who Waited” and “The Impossible Girl” whilst Martha was conveniently skipped in the companion lineup. The fandom’s bias still shines clearly in favour of Rose over Martha. Rose’s jealousy towards other women is justifiable and just the ups and downs of a 19-year-old whilst Martha’s is entitled bitterness. Rose’s flaws are compelling character moments and depth, Martha’s are “holding her back from being a good companion”. Hell, even Donna calling out Ten’s BS was entertaining accountability whilst Martha was just the angry Black woman. Fans will weaponise Rose’s working-class roots to imply a pro-Martha bias, failing to acknowledge the working-class to poor background of the average Black Brit, the anti-blackness middle-class Black people are not spared from, the many working-class Black characters of the show like Mickey, Bill, Rigsy and Ryan or how most fans don’t consider Martha middle class because she doesn’t fit the white British cultural stereotypes. You can't be the most loved and hated at the same time. The hard truth is Billie Piper wasn’t racially abused by Martha stans but Freema was absolutely racially abused by Rose’s and the effects of this are still around. Go into Martha Jones tags today and you’ll see snarky posts of how Ten could never love another companion like Rose. Even when Freema bravely shared her experiences of literal racism, fans were quick to yell “But I wanted Ten and Rose though” as a justification for years of misogynoir. Again, we need to address the elephant in the room instead of covering our eyes and ears to act like it’s not there. A Black character and actress was collateral damage in order for a popular white ship to rise and whilst I’m not an anti, I as a Black Doctor Who fan, I’ll never be a supporter. At the end of the day, only one of these actresses is still carrying the burden of misogynoir over 10 years since RTD1 ended. A lonely walk across the Earth yet again.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

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mazzystar24 · 3 months

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Having grown up going to mostly white schools y’all can realise why my eyes start physically twitching when I see fucked up takes on racism

Y’all do not understand how many times irl poc have heard that “it wasn’t that bad”, “maybe he didn’t mean it that way” , “oh he’s going through xyz” shit in our lives and it shows

White people will be the death of me I fear but it will be purely through abhorrent takes😔💔

(Just saw a post where they went through everything Tommy said or did in the chimney and hens begins episodes and made an excuse for it- saying shit like maybe he thought chimney was actually the delivery guy - despite the fact man’s was lugging a big ads lafd bag and it it had been a white man that question would never have been asked- or maybe he was thinking xyz in this scenario)

Also straight people😔

Straight people may also be the death of me cos the post after it was abt how buck deserved to be left outside the restaurant and it’s the consequences of his own actions and one of the replies was abt how buck deserved to have tommy not agree or answer to the coffee date but tommy gave him a second chance

Like I beg y’all to realise that buck wasn’t just being quirky little guy and saying that for no reason no he was genuinely going through something this is his first queer experience and his best friend crashes it in a public setting what did Tommy expect, he was going through something which tommy should’ve understood and handled better than leaving him on the curb and anyone who says otherwise is either straight and has no idea what queer experiences are like or they are queer but so blurred by their own singular experience that they can’t perceive the other perspective

#anyways y’all wanna hear abt the girl in my highschool that used to edit Nazis or the guy who called me the n word and the principal and all #the heads told me I provoked him and called my mom into the school #or the time my teacher agreed with a group of lads that not being able to say slurs or racist stuff without getting called out #showed a lack of freedom of speech MIND YOU THIS MAN USED TO TEACH POLITICS BEFORE OUR CLASS #911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #911onfox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #anti tommy kinard #anti bucktommy #911 discourse #fandom discourse

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luna-rainbow · 5 months

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Thanks for your answer for the last ask.

What is wrong with the writers of the new MCU material? Do they just hate Bucky, especially the writer of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier (he's NOT the Winter Soldier anymore!)? Did Bucky kick their cat or something? This hatred and victim blaming is not justified! "Oh Bucky's just a cray-cray psycho killing machine with cool metal arm but probably belongs in a padded cell. Lol he says he had no choice such a lame excuse..."

Soo…I don’t know if people still remember the rumours from back in 2021 and I don’t know how much of it is true, but my guess at it is this: there were supposed to be two main writers on the series. Spellman was supposed to take Sam’s story, while the other guy wrote Bucky’s story. For whatever reason, the other guy quit before he finished, and didn’t give the writing team enough time to put things together.

From a story craft point of view, Bucky’s story in TFATWS reeks of first-draft-ism. It’s a scattered plot of events that don’t quite string together, and a self-contradictory characterisation that hasn’t yet been smoothed over (but was made a little more believable by Sebastian’s efforts). You can tell some central character themes had been planted in the first draft — the PTSD, the guilt, the messy way he’s trying to relearn how to interact with people (Yori, Sam and later the Wakandans), the struggle with breaking free of his past. These were all strong, interesting character beats for Bucky to work through, and it honestly could have been a good story. And I think that’s when the original writer bailed.

When Spellman picked up this draft, he was pressed for time, he hadn’t watched CATWS and he never thought he’d needed to know about Bucky’s story, so he reads TheMovieSpoiler summary of the movie and tries to piece the rest of the story together. But Bucky’s not his priority nor his interest. There’s already beats of the story that were planned and have to be there for IP reasons. So beyond what was already in the first draft as mentioned above, Bucky is made to be the fall guy to make the rest of the plot happen. Zemo’s release — well we can’t make Sam help break out the criminal that killed an African king so we’ll make Bucky do it, who cares if it makes no sense for his character. The counselling session — the show’s few moments of levity, doesn’t matter that it makes no sense but hey, forced homoeroticism is hilarious, isn’t it? The Wakandan three-way fight — I may be remembering this wrong but I think Skogland said it was one of the first scenes that she had planned for. That fight had to happen, and again Bucky was made to provoke the Wakandans to the point Seb had to step in and say, almost literally, “he would not fucking say that” to make them wind back the animosity between Bucky and Ayo. Sam’s suit — oh no we can’t have Sam asking for it himself that would be too egocentric, we also can’t have Wakandans offering because well, not like the plot actually made Sam a strong ally for Wakanda, so we get Bucky asking for Sam’s suit to be made minutes after he fixes his mistake of releasing Zemo. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense if it’s Bucky doing it, cos I really think by this stage Spellman didn’t give a shit about a character that wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility in the first place. It’s like when you’re doing group project and your teammate bails on you, you’re gonna do just enough to get that pass but you ain’t putting in the effort for a distinction cos just looking at the unfinished work is pissing you off. So then Bucky also becomes the token white male who pushes all the wrong buttons during the few token racism scenes cos we gotta make Walker have some redeemable qualities and he’s already a dick so we can’t make him racist too.

So instead of having a thoughtful story about a veteran trying to grapple with his guilt and PTSD and lack of agency and making some mistakes along the way, you get a weird disjointed plot of some guy…with some bad dreams…who randomly does things for no good personal reason…who gets made the butt of the joke for the stuff he’s experienced cos he’s got a metal arm and super soldier serum how hard could it have been he just needs to go and apologise for killing people while simultaneously having multiple poignant scenes portraying his lack of agency.

Every writer who tells you “a hero is only as interesting as the villain” just secretly wants to write a simpable villain. And when that writer isn’t very skilled, you get the disaster of TFATWS where a lot of effort is spent on making Zemo funny and personable, and Walker nuanced and sympathetic, instead of making either of the titular heroes funny or personable or nuanced or sympathetic. And yeah, I really don’t think Spellman ever cared enough about Bucky to want to make him sympathetic…or a hero. Remember when he said Bucky pulling open the van door was the first time Bucky has ever been a hero? Fuck right off with that.

#bucky barnes #tfatws critical #asks

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argentimybeloved · 2 months

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I hate seeing people STILL defend hoyo/Genshin even after Natlans trailer. I’ve seen so many excuses but none of them really work.

((if I said anything incorrect or accidentally offensive please correct me!!))

Rant(?) UTC

— “It’s a CN (Chinese) company, what did you expect?”

Just because China has a racism/colourism problem does NOT mean anything. You’re going to excuse it just cuz of that?? On top of that, CN players have ALSO disliked the lack of PoC characters. Also, blaming it on the fact that they’re Chinese is racist in itself I believe. You’re generalising a whole country as well.

With the talk that they only care about the CN fanbase is also wrong, cuz again. Even CN player base are mad about it.

On top of all that. Reverse 1999 and Dislyte, 2 games by a Chinese company have AMAZING rep from what I’ve seen and heard. They have a diverse cast and not only do they have a large variety of skin tones for their characters but their designs aren’t sexualised (*cough* Raiden and Yae Miko *cough*)

— “Oh you have (Insert character like, Kaeya, Xinyan, Candace ect) though”

And most of those characters are getting whitewashed by the company still!! Sure we have some character that DO have darker skin. But the art that the company posts of them, you’ll usually find them whitewashed.

I’ve seen people say they should be happy with Iansan.

Why?? That’s one character with darker skin in a nation based off of countries with people with darker skin.

Their skin colour is more ashy as well (as stated from other people I’ve seen, so correct me if I’m wrong there)

If you’re going to take inspiration from various countries for your game. AND make characters based on said countries, represent them better. Don’t just make them white when the people from those countries aren’t.

— “It’s HYV what did you expect??”

Oh I’m sorry, so I shouldn’t have expected for a nation to be accurately represented?

Also, many people who say this, usually have said “oh wait for Sumeru, wait for Natlan”

And now that both of those nations are released it’s:

“What did you expect”

Make up your mind please and thank you :3

And it’s not uncommon for people to wait to see if there’s at least SOME change to a game they enjoy

I’ve actually seen people say “Wait for more characters to be released”

HOW LONG DO PPL HAVE TO WAIT TO GET GOOD REP 😭😭

— “People complain yet still play the game”

People can complain and still play the game.

There’s good aspects to Genshin. The music and landscapes. Animation too. People can enjoy the game for that reason and still criticise the game.

Of course some people can quit the game due to how Genshin deals with PoC characters but others may stay for their own reasons. As long as they don’t IGNORE the problem then fine, they can keep playing. It’s their own choice.

— “They’re not white though!!”

What…

Have you seen the cast from the Natlan trailer??

I have actually seen this as an excuse and it honestly confuses me so much. Do people genuinely think that the Natlan cast isn’t mostly white people?? I hope not…

— “There’s white people in those countries too”

Okay and? Chinese people can also have tanner skin and we don’t have characters with said skin tone in Liyue.

Same with Japan.

What’s your point?

Natlan AND Sumeru are both nations based of countries that have people with darker skin. Yes you may find a white person in those countries too but that shouldn’t be your excuse of why there’s such a lack of diversity in those nations. If there’s a diversity in the countries their based off of, so should the in game nation.

— “Their designs are pretty though!”

(Not rlly an excuse but felt like I should add it)

I’ve seen people saying they like the characters design and think there pretty and that’s fine!! Can’t fault you for liking a characters design. I also do find some of the designs pretty. I will admit. It’s when you defend their designs when it becomes a problem. Just cuz you like a characters design doesn’t mean you can ignore the lack of diversity for PoC.

Especially when they’re the ones being represented

That’s all the excuses I’ve seen going around. The more common ones, I’m unsure if there’s more (hopefully not…) but if there is feel free to comment about it

Apparently the ZZZ team have talked about their dislike about this whole mess. Which hopefully means they’ll do better but it is also the same company.

I’ve seen a good few concept art of characters who DO have darker skin tones but apparently genshins higher ups made them lighter. Can’t fully confirm that but I have seen concept art with characters with darker skin tone.

Once again, if I said anything incorrect or accidentally offensive please correct me as well!! Thank you :)

(Silently hoping I won’t get death threats for this to the point I have to delete it 👍 - Will likely private my DMs if I can)

#Genshin #Genshin Impact #Natlan #Hoyoverse #Hoyo #mihoyo #genshin rant #Genshin impact rant #Genshin Natlan #Genshin impact Natlan #rant #Genshin x reader #Genshin impact x reader #took one look at the characters and was baffled

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allaboutalf · 4 months

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Oh you’re all so vile I cannot even find the words to describe how much you disgust me and how awful you are. All this using real life issues over a fictional ship and pretending you care about things when you’ve proven you haven’t by sweeping real past issues with other actors and racism under the rug.

You’re cherry picking one poor choice of a word in the overall context of Lou saying something was bad and toxic. Was it good phrasing, no, but it was not excusing anything. Feel free to talk about how that wasn’t the best word to use, sure.

But twisting words and using real world issues to hate on someone over a TV ship is so so so morally bankrupt. Especially if you’ve not had an issue with actual racist behavior from a cast member in the past - which that person has seemed to move on from and learnt from, but the point still stands. And you know that’s what you’re doing, you know it. You’ve lost morals over a ship, it’s embarrassing.

I’m a buddie shipper but at this point that show better not give us that ship cause none of you vile trolls deserve it. I’m happy to miss out on something I’ve wanted since S2 so all you putrid creatures don’t get a thing you want.

I can’t believe how fast you toxic buddie shippers have ruined things this season. This isn’t normal behavior or normal shipping where we ship and let ship. This is vile and you all need serious help.

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cocogum · 4 months

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The Great Wave - Chapter 6 Review

‼️SPOLERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

Warning(s): extreme use of foul language, aurora slander, mentions of racism, i’m cyber bullying an osamodas

So chapter 6 came out…

And I’m not happy.

Not one bit.

Blue cow: “You sadidas are so impressionable…”

Sadidas are impressionable?? Tf are you even talking about?? What are they impressionable about?? This sad excuse that you call a companion screeched and it scared the shit out of that woman. What did you think was gonna happen??? “YoU PeOPLe ARe So ImPrESsIOnAbLE” I’m gonna eat animals right in front of your face and feed them to you like a bird. You know what they’re not, Aurora? They’re people who aren’t scared of facing death more than once you fucking sad excuse of a pro-animal blue-skinned wretch.

She looks way too cocky in this shot. You wanna go back to the war, little bitch? Let’s see if you’ll keep smiling like that.

Did I mention I fucking hate Aurora?

This actual cunt is more worried about some ugly crusty bat bird than an actual human being are you fucking kidding me.

Blue cow: “Give that to me, you’ll scare him!”

Sadida servant: “I’m sorry, mistress…”

This is the very same woman who fled the people she was supposed to “lead” who called a servant, that did not belong to her, an idiot.

Are you fucking kidding me.

Blue cow: “Go fetch some water, idiot, the little one is dying of thirst…”

Sadida servant: “Alright, mistress…”

Yeah, your ugly bat is probably thirsty CUZ YOU SHOVED HIM IN A CHEST BEFORE YOU CAME HERE YOU FUCKING DUMBA-

She had also mentioned how her future son would inherit this monstrosity of a bat.

Sorry folks, but I was wrong, she actually is pregnant. Before chapter 6 had been released, I went on this full rant about how Aurora had actually lied to Amalia and the others and wasn’t expecting a child. But now that we’ve seen the Osamodas king talking privately to Aurora and claiming to be worried for her because she was pregnant, I unfortunately have to accept the fact that she is carrying a child.

This chapter made sure that we got a better shot at her belly which has a slight rounder edge to it.

Like I would genuinely rather have a raging chihuahua ready to gnaw my flesh than whatever the fuck this is.

Blue cow: “You will make a wonderful companion for my child!”

But to think about the positives, we at least have no idea if this blue-skinned dumbass thinks that she’s carrying an osamodas or a sadida.

For those who don’t know, the beast she’s holding is called a “skrot” (or “kougnard” in French). These beats originally came from Ecaflipus, the Ecaflip God’s dimension. Their main use is transportation but they can also be used as your companion. That means that anyone can just use them, you don’t necessarily have to be an osamodas to get one.

The skrot Aurora has at hand is a newborn so she was prepared to give her future child a companion. I think Aurora clearly meant that even if her child ends up being a Sadida, she will still give the beast to them since a skrot can be pretty useful every now and then.

So there is no evidence that she is expecting the child to be an osamodas. I think either way, she’ll be indifferent if the child ends up being a sadida or an osamodas. If they end up being a sadida, I bet it’ll just make her reminisce about Armand and love them even more (cuz omg this bitch can’t stop making everything about the Sadida kingdom about Armand).

Cow king: “Your priority now, is for you to be liked…”

Aurora just insulted a servant. She couldn’t even hold her tongue. How the fuck do you expect her to hear the daily sadida complaints??? Omg this “family” should go back to their circus they’re making me physically gag.

Blue cow: “If they think I’m just going to stand there and do nothing…”

Gurl shut the fuck up and sit your ass down no one is angry that you’re not there with them. Bitch is over here turning into McFry chicken as if she’s an actual menace. Literally go get yourself eradicated.

Stop breathing, you skank. Echo did the wing transformation far better than you.

But yeah, go ahead and ruin this interracial marriage with your stupid reasoning. Go ahead and get your ass kicked by the god-king and the experienced adventurous princess. Go ahead and try to fight them with your inexperienced fighting self. Go ahead and make every sadida realize that you didn’t fight in the war because of your pregnancy but you’re perfectly capable of fighting two rulers while pregnant. Go ahead and fight in a dress and an ugly crusty bat, yeah, I’M SURE you’ll win and won’t make yourself look like a demented moron.

Her dad should’ve honestly let her go “fight” (cuz let's be honest Yugo and Amalia would have ANNIHILATED her without even batting an eye) them instead of telling her common sense so we could get rid of her much more quickly.

Blue cow: “But I am perfectly capable of controlling my emotions!”

A second earlier: *insulted a servant for being scared of a screeching bat*

A second later: *almost attempted to crash a wedding just because she saw a sadida with an eliatrope*

I would rather hang out with freaking Julith, a known terrorist, than to even be near this sad excuse of a royal. Actually, I’ve got something better: I would rather spend a full week in the necrome world than be around her.

If you care about being the queen of this land, then why the fuck are you insulting the servants??? Yeah, that’ll make them show you respect! They’ll definitely like you for sure! They will definitely not go to Amalia, the very same person who they’ve known for their whole lives.

Stop yapping on your own you cow, your existence is already sad as fuck.

And now she’s over here having a problem with a sadida and an eliatrope marrying.

Great, we just found out she’s an actual racist now too. What’s next?

Blue cow: “A sadida and an eliatrope?!”

Armand was racist towards Eliatropes, sure, but he was at least hating because he can make options of his own (even though his opinions were shit-). While Aurora over here just hates them cuz her late husband hated them??? Wtf??? Is she that empty-headed that she’ll just follow whatever other people are hating? She doesn’t even have the intelligence to hate things for her own reasons??? Is she that much of a trophy wife???

Blue cow: “My Armand would have never permitted this!”

Blue cow: “He hated the eliatropes!”

Omg this bitch is actually clinically dumb there is no way. At what point are you so mentally constipated that your likes and dislikes depend on what other people like and dislike???

She was saying how Armand would have never accepted the eliatropes so therefore she hates the idea of them being here as well.

Blue cow: “This little pest is not wasting time!”

Blue cow: “In only a few months, she had given some funny ideas to my subjects…”

If Armand told you he hates Osamodas, would you also hate your own kind???

I literally don’t get it.

Blue cow: “She spends her time showing off the traditions of the sadidas though…”

Uh yeah, so what?

Amalia is into the Sadida traditions as she should because she’s a sadida.

But just because she practices her culture, that doesn’t mean she cuts off other races????

Like what???

Aurora talks as if the sadidas have never brought other races inside their kingdom before. RACES LIKE HER.

Did she never know how King Oakheart used to be??? The sadidas, have more than once, accepted people that weren’t their own kind. They have taken in two cras from an infamous assassin. They sculpted a statue of a iop and gave him the title of “Savior of the Sadidas”. They welcomed an eliatrope and his twin dragon into the kingdom by giving him a guest room, told him that they would welcome his family, and even let him marry their princess.

How…are you this constipated to not have known this before?

Wait it has only been a few months since Season 4 so wouldn’t these two newlyweds technically be considered the second recorded interracial couple in history to have a twelvian and non-twlevian together?

“Long live the bride and groom!!!”

Omg this would also mean this was Amalia’s first time marrying a couple!!

I just want to highlight that @onyichii was the one who initially suggested that the marriage could have been between a sadida and an eliatrope, and it turns out they were correct. I had previously believed that the eliatropes aged slowly like the primordial ones, which is why they couldn't have been able to get married with someone who already looks like an adult, so I didn't think one of them could have been getting married. However, it turns out that only the Council of Six ages as slowly as dragons. The female Eliatrope in question is clearly a grown woman, and the Great Wave is set to occur right after Season 4, just a couple of months later.

In Season 4, it's possible that the elite eliatropes all looked the same due to budget constraints at Ankama. This could explain why they all wore identical clothes, colors, and were the same height.

Now let’s talk about Amalia again and how she killed it!!

Our queen CARRIED the ceremony so perfectly and elegantly!!

Look at her, she’s so experienced already!

Yugo is looking at her as she’s doing her thing. He’s so proud to have her 💕💕 omg I can’t 😭😭 LOOK AT HIM SMILING AT HIS WIFEY‼️‼️😩😩💖💖💖💖❤️❤️❤️❤️

I'm glad to see that there's no drama between the sadidas and eliatropes at the celebration, as Amalia and Yugo have enough on their plate. Amalia had to resolve a conflict between them this morning, so it's good to see the two races getting along here.

If we take a closer look at them, a good majority of the sadidas look young so maybe the new generation has a much faster and easier time accepting the eliatropes than the older generation.

And here is the part that immediately cuts off the fun entirely.

The poisoning.

During the lively event, a female Sadida was seen carrying a platter with two drinks, which she handed to Yugo and Amalia before leaving. Her sudden appearance and departure raised questions about her identity and origin. Despite this, no one seemed to pay much attention to her, possibly assuming she was a servant due to her role in serving the king and queen.

Unlike Aurora and her father, however, I actually would like to know what her deal is. Like I’m genuinely curious to know what could have been the reason to want to poison the king and queen.

Because yes, she didn’t just want to poison Yugo. She also wanted to poison Amalia.

The Osamodas king informed Aurora that he had been aware for weeks of the upcoming interracial marriage between a sadida and an eliatrope in the Sadida kingdom.

Blue cow: “A marriage?! And no one told us?!”

Cow king: “We’ve known for weeks, my daughter.”

But Aurora had no idea about it.

If Aurora, the wife of the late Sadida king, did not receive an invitation or any notification about the Sadida kingdom's upcoming marriage celebration, it raises questions about how the Osamoda king became aware of the event. Aurora's absence during the war could be the reason why they did not invite her but it remains unclear how her father came to know about the wedding.

This can only mean one thing.

The Sadida kingdom may have multiple spies who could have warned the Osamodas king. It is possible that the female Sadida who poisoned Yugo was not the only one willing to go to such lengths to get rid of the king. If she holds such a strong grudge, it is strongly possible that there could be other Sadidas who share the same sentiment.

By the way, it still surprises me that Amalia could have been poisoned too. How else would she have known that her cup had poison in it before trying to warn Yugo? The whole reason why Yugo had been targeted was because he wasn’t like them. So to have a sadida try to also poison the last member of the royal Sheran Sharm family is very off-putting.

Amalia knows her plants and remedies so the reason as to why she immediately thought something was up was probably because she either smelled something very deadly about the cup she was holding or she had a very strong gut feeling.

Either way, she dodged a bullet from not drinking it. Unlike Yugo who could survive this, Amalia would have likely died from the drink (the results would have made her look like how she did in Yugo’s nightmare, choking to death).

This is what I mean when I say I want to know more about this sadida servant.

We know she’ll make a reappearance because we can see her on the cover of the 10th chapter of volume 1.

I just don’t see why poisoning Amalia would have been a great idea. Because if she did die, who would replace her? Like I said, she’s the last member of the royal sadida family so was the female servant prepared to see Aurora replace her?? Why?? Is it because the sadida doesn’t like Amalia’s beliefs? To a point where she’d be fine seeing an osamodas replace her???

Man, Amalia has it rough. She knew that some of her people wouldn’t be pleased with having the eliatropes here but I bet she never imagined she would have almost gotten poisoned by one of her subjects.

Also what the fuck is the Osamodas king’s deal here?

If the sadida servant does work for him (for some reason), then he expected Yugo to have gotten poisoned. Okay, I get that part. So he wants Yugo to die because he’s too powerful to have him around.

So why did he tell Aurora that they were going to have to wait until they make sure the sadidas don’t trust Yugo anymore??

Cow king: “This pretentious little Yugo has powers beyond imagination…”

Cow king: “He is the one who we must succeed in getting rid of.”

Cow king: “And the only way to do that is to turn the sadidas against him.”

By doing what?? Poison him??? What???? How will that make the sadidas not trust Yugo anymore?? They just witnessed him coughing and bleeding like crazy. And they just heard Amalia scream that he’d gotten poisoned. The only thing they’d wanna do right now is help him, not run away from him. In fact, after Yugo gets healed, they’d be very understanding if the Eliatrope king tries to distance himself from them because he had just been fucking poisoned by one of them.

This is some deep clown behavior right here.

Anyways, these blue-skinned clowns are giving me too much of a migraine to keep up with their bullshit. That sadida servant looks more entertaining than them because she at least did the work and expected Yugo to instantly die instead of whatever the fuck the Osamodas king is expecting to happen.

After the incident at the wedding, it's possible to claim that the Osamodas king has spies within the kingdom. It's likely that he convinced some sadidas to join him in his disdain for Yugo, gaining their support. The sadida woman in question may be one of these spies, potentially acting on her own agenda as well. Although she doesn't appear to harbor the same malice towards Yugo as the royal Osamodas family, her anger is evident, as seen in her expression on the cover of the last chapter.

Either way, I hope we get to know more about her later on. Also, I’m pretty sure Amalia didn’t focus too much on the unnamed Sadida’s face when she handed them the drinks so it’s possible she wouldn’t be able to identify who the assassin was in the next chapter.

In the meantime, while we’re waiting for the continuation, let’s just enjoy Yugo’s suffering ✨✨

I swear there’s nothing personal about me wanting to see him like this it’s just that ever since I’ve seen him tied up on the ground shirtless and screaming in pain, I’ve been wanting to see more 😤😭

I can’t wait to see more in the next chapters 😍🥰🥰

But seriously no joke, this is not looking good for Amalia. The poor girl had recently experienced the loss of her father and her brother. On top of that, her husband Yugo, whom she had shared so much with ever since they were both little, was now coughing up blood from poison, adding to her distress. Even Yugo's wakfu wings appeared to be affected, suggesting a connection between their condition and his overall health.

Just look at the sheer horrified panic in Amalia’s eyes as she could only stare down at him, feeling completely powerless.

I wouldn’t even blame her if she lost it then and there. Yugo is literally her only family left. So to have an unknown enemy (since she still doesn’t know who could have done this) do this to her on a day that is supposed to take the stress of everyday life away must be incredibly traumatic for her.

Amalia: “The king has been poisoned!!!”

Also when you think about it, Yugo and Amalia’s cute kiss in this panel might as well have been their last kiss together if they both drank their drinks. It would’ve been over for them because Amalia would have instantly died. Yugo, on the other hand, will survive this but not without any damage to the body and brain.

I really wanna know what happens now it’s only been 6 days and I’m getting stressed out. I hate how the chapter ended, I NEED MORE.

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aq2003 · 8 months

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I find the decision to write the first Doctor as sort of cartoonishly bigoted in the episode with Twelve fascinating, because it shifts the blame for the racism, sexism etc present in early Doctor Who from the writers and producers to the *character*. It wasn’t the Doctor who wrote limited character arcs for female characters in comparison to male ones, and it wasn’t the Doctor who decided to use yellow-face for the characters in some episodes - that was the writers and production team. Y’know, real people. People whose legacy the current writers and producers of the show - who have also largely been white men, just like their predecessors - owe their jobs to.

And the persistent problem with continuing to sideline and tokenise the characters of some of the female companions and characters of colour in the service of centring the doctor as the (until recently) white male protagonist - that continued for most of the modern reboot in some form. Some of the elements of that were even new innovations under the modern writers (looking at you Moffat but you are not the only offender.) I mean, we’re talking about the portrayal of One as the past’s ambassador for sexism in iirc the exact same episode where Chris Chibnall reversed the previous episode’s ending of Bill surviving with Heather and re-buried the lesbians by sending Bill directly to the ‘your soul is canonically dead’ zone.

I absolutely can’t speak for the whole of the first Doctor’s tenure because I’ve only seen about 2/3 of his surviving episodes, but from the episodes I have seen, he didn’t even talk like that. There was a very big problem with that run of the show, but it was a different problem to the one the episode with One and Twelve is describing. One was weird as hell, but he was much less overtly hostile, wished much less bodily harm on minority groups and even dipped into less microaggressions and dogwhistles than most older white British people do now. That isn’t to say One’s behaviour in Old Who was something to aim for, it’s to say that a lot of the improvement in the attitude of white people in Britain over the last half-century has been performative at best, imaginary at worst, a lot of our dogwhistles are new and especially alarming for that reason - and it comforts white people to imagine that the racism and sexism of the past was overt and vulgar and unlike theirs, and that their bigotry by comparison is lesser and better and therefore doesn’t need further work; that now people affected by it just need to learn to live with it, because you’re lucky we’re not like our grandparents.

But that excuse doesn’t really work if (tw racism, anti-blackness, Islamophobia, death) some sects of British society talk more positively about drowning immigrants in the English Channel than they did 100 years ago, does it?

That excuse doesn’t work if your grandparents were actually quite a lot like you.

I live in the UK, about half the people I know watched the special with Twelve and One, and considering that vanishingly few modern viewers have seen or remember the first Doctor or any early Old Who, there was this odd awkward relief from most of the white people I watched the episode with, like they’d been absolved from Britain’s historical and current racism by the burning of an effigy. Like that bigotry coming from One’s mouth was a reassurance that this country’s bigotry had always been as cartoonish and ineffectual and easy to see as the lines Chris Chibnall and his colleagues wrote for One; that white people living in the UK now are fundamentally different than they were; and by watching Bill and One’s (still white) successor refuse his cartoonishly awful worldview, white Brits had somehow cleansed themselves and buried the past completely.

But the vast majority of the racism, bigotry, sexism in the original run of Doctor Who and still present in various forms in the show now did not actually take the form of nice clear, simple statements of bigoted beliefs from the characters’ mouths - it was in the writing. The way characters and especially cultures were portrayed. The yellow-face in one of Two’s story arcs really stuck in my mind, but the way Old Who handled nonwhite cultures in general was often horrific. The first Doctor was often perfectly polite, but women and characters of colour were sidelined and (even in instances when it was clearly accidental) dangerously misrepresented throughout the show in ways that persist well into the post-2000 reboot, because the sexism and racism wasn’t in the character.

The sexism and racism was in the writers’ room.

I don’t have any sentimental attachment to Old Who, I was born about a decade after it ended, but deflecting the cultural problems in the BBC that persist to this day onto one of the show’s characters, by having him express an easily-digestible form of bigotry much less dangerous and insidious than the one that was actually present in the early show, feels like a dangerous form of scapegoating.

Something I think would have meant much, much more would have been an apology *outside of the show* from the BBC and the show’s current writers for the wide variety of sincerely-held bigotries that were actually present in the first run of the show, and a public acknowledgement of the pervasive, insidious forms those bigotries actually often took in the show’s writing - and also an acknowledgement of the show’s continuing shortfalls in its handling of race and gender over the last twenty years - because that would have been much more productively challenging for viewers of the show (more or less the whole of the British public at some point in their lives) to have to consider. Which I have to assume is why they went down the reassuring ‘the first Doctor has died for our sins’ route instead.

This is just my two cents, I am also white and British so please take this perspective with a grain of salt.

Mm. I don’t know. This country loves letting ourselves off too easily, and the writing of One in that episode feels the like easiest and for that reason least effective way of reckoning with the way we were in the 1900s. Don’t worry everyone, at the turn of the millennium both the show and the country of Britain were reborn without sin!

this is such a good writeup anon. i don't have a lot to add - just that im asian-american and a lot of what you said aligns with rhetoric i've also seen in the states - that being this sense that racism is just something of the past rather than a fundamental, systemic issue that the country was built on. and yeah one thing that really struck me while watching twice upon a time was how one's bigotry was always framed as a joke. bill straight up says to twelve "i hope we laugh about it for 20 years" or whatever and it just reeks of "To Our White Audience: be not afraid. you're not racist like the 1st doctor who lived far into the past. see? the one black character knows we're not racist now. please give yourselves a pat on the back". and like, it's not funny to any people of color that might be watching. it's just prioritizing the comfort of white people. and it's pretty terrible that moffat (he wrote the episode, chibnall just wrote thirteen's first lines. but also i know chibnall took nuwho into its least progressive era so...) felt like he had a right to make light of this stuff when he has committed some pretty egregious crimes in his tenure himself

#doctor who #dr who #ty for sending this i wasnt aware of how.. white audiences reacted to the episode and now like #my suspicions abt it were def confirmed #12 era

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