#a family doesn't end with blood (allies)

[little-cereal-draws]

whatever you do, don't think of Odysseus and Polites growing up together

don't think of them going on "quests" through the palace garden, waving sticks at imaginary monsters and saving the day

don't think of them watching the older boys spar and trying to mimic it, not sure of the proper form and ending up in a giggly heap every time

don't think of them getting a bit older and finally competing against each other with an intent to win, racing and wrestling their way through the countryside

don't think of Polites always letting Odysseus win because he likes seeing Odysseus’ triumphant smile

don't think of Odysseus assuring Polites that he's ok while he cries over his wound from the boar, wiping away his tears

don't think of them getting taller and finally being able to reach all the branches of the trees

don't think of Polites reassuring Odysseus when he worries that girls won’t like him because his princely status outweighs the fact that he's awkward and gangly

don’t think of Odysseus being jealous of Polites’ growth spurt and Polites teasing him about it

don't think of them going on short trips to neighboring kingdoms as they fill out, making allies and attending feasts

don't think of Odysseus gushing about how pretty and perfect Penelope is while Polites smiles knowingly

don't think of Polites helping Odysseus gather the courage to ask for her hand

don’t think of the wedding festivities lasting a whole week and Polites drunkenly crying about how happy he is for them

don’t think of Odysseus letting Polites hold baby Telemachus, hovering with the anxiety of a new parent, and watching as his friend gently brushes the soft baby curls out of his son's eyes

don't think Polites assuring Odysseus that the war is estimated to last only a few months, he'll be back home before he knows it

don't think of circumstance slowly pulling them apart as Odysseus spends more time with the kings, going on raids and ambushes, and Polites tries to avoid the battlefield as much as he can

don't think of Odysseus freezing after Polites flinches when he claps him on the shoulder after a raid, hands still wet with blood

don't think of Odysseus growing restless and pacing in Polites' tent, mourning the years he's lost with his family and venting his frustrations with the war

don't think of the Trojans breaching the Greek wall and Odysseus scrambling to find the glint of glasses in the chaos

don't think of him finally finding Polites with a spear in one hand, the other hand pressed over a wound in his side, apologizing as he stabs at his attacker

don't think of Polites sobbing as Odysseus stabs the Trojan from behind, splattering both of them with blood when he pulls the body off of his sword

don't think of them fighting back-to-back, Odysseus aiming to kill, Polites just trying to get them to stay back, as the camp burns around them

don't think of Odysseus trying to get Polites out of joining the ambush on Troy but the other kings aren't having it

don't think of Odysseus watching Polites wipe the blood and tears off his glasses as he says he's fine to go, he appreciates Odysseus trying his best

don't think of the fire and screaming in Troy

don't think of Odysseus collapsing into Polites as soon as the fighting is over and sobbing too hard to explain why he's so upset

don't think of Odysseus closing himself off as they prepare to go home, jealous and angry over how his friend remains as optimistic as ever while he's haunted

don't think of the sea breeze and the promise of home starting to ease things back to normal

until it doesn't

[queers-gambit]

And Let Me Love You Anyway [ part two of two ]

part one: Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader -> hair color specified reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[theminecraftbee]

Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:

First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)

You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.

You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.

Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)

Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.

You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.

Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)

You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.

You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.

Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)

It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.

You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.

Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)

You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.

"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.

"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.

"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.

"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"

"All the time," he says, and that's that.

The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.

[chibsandchill]

It all starts with a smile

Fandom: HOTD (House of the dragon)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x AFAB!reader (no use of Y/N or pronouns)

Summary: Aemond must learn how to move on from the past and lead his people into a time of peace. Only, he has forgotten how to live without war.

Warnings: Grammar and spelling errors (english is not my native language), short (1322 words), some angst if you squint

Masterlist

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The smell of lavender fills the room as you fuss with his hair. It is shorter than it has ever been – reaching just above his shoulders. It feels freeing, in a strange way. His long hair had been a shield, but he is done hiding. It is only right that you be the one to cut it for you had been there to witness his victory. 

“And what do you want?” 

“A smile, Aemond, ‘tis all I ask for.”

His lips quirk ever so slightly. He hasn't smiled in what felt like centuries – hasn't had a reason to. It doesn't fit him anymore (he doesn't know how). 

A mere twitch is all he can manage. 

“Perhaps my lady should wish for something more… attainable. A king has as much need for a smile as a-” 

A frown appears on your face and he wonders where he misstepped. His father had smiled. Plenty. Though not at him or his siblings. And he had almost led their house to ruin. A smile did little when faced with dragonfire. 

“It is time for peace now. And a king of peace has as much use of a kind smile as he does his right hand. The people need soothing – reassurance that all will be well again. That they will not have to send their sons to die or their daughters to pillow houses.” You move closer and Aemond holds his breath. He does not fear your touch, but his skin crawls at the thought of it. He can almost feel the water of that damned lake filling his throat again. 

“Your grandfather taught you much, Aemond, but this? The art of keeping the power he took and pleasing the smallfolk, that evaded him. In the end he was too much like the dragons he surrounded himself with.”

He wants to defend Otto, the words burn in his throat. “He was a great man.”

“Yes, he was.” You nod. “But not a good one.”

“No, but few men are.”

His eyes glance at the door, almost expecting his grandsire to storm through it shouting at him. His body prepares for a strike, but it never comes, just as the door remains shut. Otto is dead, but his mind still screams at him to defend his blood. His skin crawls at the neglect, at the words of weakness he let slip. 

Your hand cups his face. You’re on his weak side. He refuses to turn. 

“A soft touch.” You say. “The realm has been ruled by an iron fist for so long that even the ground has forgotten what it is like.” 

So you had noticed him stiffening. Another crack in his crumbling mask. Vulnerability seeps out like blood from a wound. Somewhere under it lay a scared boy, Aemond is sure. He still feels like he’s in the halls of Driftmark sometimes, with his eye in his hand and his father with his back turned. All alone. Scared. Scarred. 

He has no more allies. None bound by blood. And blood was all one could trust, Aemond had learnt that the hard way. And even then it is not guaranteed. His family cut him deeper than any. 

“A smile. A soft touch,” he repeats. Aemond grasps your hand in his and gently pulls it off his skin, “will not bring stability to a realm of chaos. A smile will not sway the hands of the thieves, or the rapists lurking in the dark. A soft touch will not bring back the sons or husbands of the thousands of widows. It will not bring back sisters, brothers, dragons.”

“No.” You agree. A frown pulls at your lips. Aemond almost puts your hand back on his face. “But it will not take any more. You cannot be a man of war in a time of peace, Aemond. Your life did not end in the battle above the Gods Eye.”

But Vhagar’s did. Vhagar fell. He is one half of a broken whole cursed to sit a throne that mocks him at every turn. His brother’s laughter haunts him when he sits on it, his grandfather’s leers scrutinizing his every decision from the place of the Hand, the smell of his mother’s blood followed by phantom pain when he misstepped. 

“No. It did not.” 

Your hand is back on his face, grasping at his jaw to guide him to you, to force him to meet your eyes. He allows it. Aemond doesn’t like the sharpness to your eyes as you look at him. What in him do you see that displeases you so? 

“You were shaped by bitter hands and hatred, but you are free of it now. We are free. Free to make mistakes. Free to… love.” 

Your eyes soften. 

“It is okay to grieve them just as it is okay to love them despite their faults, but you cannot let the memory of them keep you chained to the past. The future is yours for the taking, you need only grasp it.”

“I do not know how.” He confesses. The words were heavy on his tongue, and yet they are even heavier between you.

“A smile, My King. It begins with a smile.”

Again he tries, and again he fails. His lips twitch but it is more like a grimace than a smile. He knows anger, he knows sadness and he knows disgust. He doesn’t know this – doesn’t know the softness you spoke of, doesn’t understand the peace in your heart or the lightness to your steps. Rhaenyra never forgot. She smiled even in the end as Sunfyre devoured her whole. 

“Do you remember the night you claimed Vhagar?”

His scar itches. 

“Of course I do.”

You move closer again, though you do not reach for him. You kneel by his feet, your hands flat on your thighs. Your voice is as soft as the Maiden’s when you speak again. “What did you feel when you took to the skies as one for the first time?”

The words tumble from him before he can stop them. “Whole. Worthy. Happy.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Aemond inclines his head, confused by the request. Unable to deny you, he thinks back on that night, before it all went wrong. And so he tells you of how he met Vhagar. Of how his legs shook terribly when he walked across the sand, how his heart stopped beating when her eyes met his and the bond was formed. Of how her scales felt against his calloused hands, her warmth against his skin, and her breath on his face. He tells you the color of her eyes, the scars on her legs, chest, the horns on her head, the shape of her scales and the stories her body carried. Aemond describes the climb up to her saddle and how he had to tie the heavy chains several times around his waist, barely managing to finish the last knot before Vhagar started moving. Vhagar was so large and heavy that each step shook the earth and he had never felt as small and yet so large as when he sat upon her. 

Somewhere in the story, Aemond loses himself, and the words keep coming but he no longer hears what he is saying. He’s back there – back on Vhagar. He feels her muscles moving under thick skin, feels her every inhale, every exhale and every grumble as she moves. Hears the thundering crack of her wings in the air, the wind through his hair. His heart feels full again, whole. 

The story ends, but the feeling stays. His chest feels lighter than it has in years.

“See, Aemond,” you say, “it – healing – starts with a smile.”

His fingers tremble as he raises them to his face. 

And there, 

stretching his lips in a motion so wholly unfamiliar that his face begins to ache, 

is a smile. 

Maybe there is hope for him after all. 

[snvffsoda]

some random/silly headcanons for Fox!!

highly experienced knife fighter, and knows basic hand-to-hand combat with or without a karambit, don’t let his height and age fool you, years of using his wits and his strengths to his benefit have gotten him not only far in life but many many, many, victims nowadays he doesn't even need to do all the hard work, he can just point at whoever he wants to brutalize on his next stream and they're there, but his skills are no laughing matter, many have tried to fight back taking his height and age as a means to overpower him and while in very rare cases strength has won over skill (which is why he uses guards now) it usually ends with the victim being clawed out or unconscious by the end of it

locked away, in an old safe somewhere, ren still keeps strades old button up he just can't..let it go, no matter how hard he tries he hates the man, what he's done to him, the lies he fooled Ren into the belief that his torture was to become deeper, to have a bond no other could have, Ren knows to know it was just strades own selfish desires and its those desires that got him killed, he knows better to admire the man, but..even now, when he’ll sit in his penthouse and wonder, what could've been, he thinks if Strade would be proud of him, if he could see him now.

the reason he hasn't been streaming much as of late anymore is well, he's getting older. Don't get him wrong, he loves the thrill of it all! excitedly asking his chat and bidders questions to the highest seller like a twisted game of family feud, the blood rush he gets when he saws off the leg of a victim, or slices their throat all for the eyes of his viewers to see, he loves the thrill, the hunt, but sometimes, as much as he plans his schedules, and outfits, and ideas of torture, most days, he wants to enjoy the quiet, the sound of his favorite anime playing slowly while sipping coffee, the fun of taking a vacation simply because he can and he feels like it, he knows it's stale and boring but he likes it, and hopes eventually he can take some well deserved time for himself

always on time and on schedule with anything, and everything meetings, streams, handling his guards around, food, and doesn't like changing his schedule (he's a busy man) he doesn't like when he's late to something at all, or when someone else is, and will get irritated if someone or something, gets in the way of that, whether it be as simple as a scheduled limo being late, or a meeting that was postponed

even at the ripe old age of 47 (which he still denies being old) he still has amazing hygiene and grooming routines, but now he has the luxury of a hell of a lot more money than he did when he was younger, so his tail and hair is on a whole other level of soft, even when he isn't trying to, he's been told by not only his associates but his closer allies that being his guards that he always smells nice, never a smelly day for the fox, unless he gets too excited with a stream or two that is, then maybe with all the blood, and bile that gets spilled on him, he may not smell the best,

if he likes you, and keeps you to himself, he’ll spoil you rotten, whatever it is you want or desire he will make sure it's handled and given with care and affection, of course, some nights he may ask you to dress up for him, or maybe he’d bring his knife to the equation in sex or foreplay (he loves the way you bleed) but he's always sweet and comforting about it, sure you may see him be stressed due to a scheduling error, or his chat not being as active as they were a day before, but he always has a soft spot for you, even if he's angry.

loves rambling about his favorite anime to you and his affection towards the style of art as a whole, he loves just being able to be silly, watch his eyes light up as he talks about the newest episode of his anime and how he can't believe that character betrayed who and how much he loves this character, he's a weeb at heart, even now, and he accepts it, and is very passionate about it

has contemplated starting a separate gaming stream before, but knows that his type of content wouldnt work since it would be hard for a viewer to sped 1,000 dolars to see him gouge someone's eye out and then 2 minutes later that same viewer seeing Fox play genshin Impact, though he wishes he could just do it once in and while alas, he usually plays his games when off streams usually, but will occasionally forget to close them and it'll be left it on in the background while he does his snuff streams, the sound of peaceful anime tunes playing just subtly in the background for any eagle-eyed viewer of his streams to notice

since his job constantly has him being extroverted and charismatic to keep viewers and bidders entertained, when he's not working he is actually pretty quiet most times, of course, he’ll laugh and smile, and be joyful, he just naturally is, but there's definitely a noticeable switch in his personality when the cameras are on and when they're off, he just seems quieter, more likely to hum in response pleasantly to someone rather than give them a barking laugh with a smile, not that he's sad, he's just ‘recharging his social battery’ as he likes to put it

has an extremely keen scent and can recognize almost everyone he knows from their scent alone so if he's ever blindfolded (he could be for any number of reasons) his senses heighten even more and he can smell things perfectly and stronger, and when eating something really good that being his favorite raw meats or culinary dishes, his eyes will pinpoint and glow in excitement from the flavors and texture he can't help it when he does, and he’ll tend to make more animalistic growling feral sounds when he's eating something he REALLY LIKES whether that be chicken hearts, or your actual heart <3

[queenvhagar]

Instead of trying so hard to make fans think of Daenerys when they see Rhaenyra, they should have tried to insert a bit of Daenerys into every Targaryen character.

Right now it's obvious the show is trying to make Rhaenyra a Dany 2.0 and doing everything they can to link this one character to Daenerys. The amount of scenes she gets with her dragon, the idea that Syrax's eggs are somehow Daenerys' dragons and it's thanks to Rhaenyra that dragons live on... likely all due to the writers seeing "dragonriding ruling queen" for both characters and then really overly forcing the connection at all costs even if it doesn't always quite fit.

What I would have preferred is to see all of Daenerys' ancestors within her and her in them. Show all of their connections to their dragons and their joy in flying. Show all of them as quick to anger and slow to forgive. Show all of them believing in the power and superiority of their dragon blood and the inherent right of their family to rule. Show all of them willing to use fire and blood to avenge what they see as injustices and being ruthless in their pursuit of that justice. Show me how each of these characters are as Targaryen as the next and how absolutely tragic it is that within this so similar family they only saw their own differences and their own ambitions, leading to them destroying themselves and the dragons that they loved so much and that gave them so much power.

All of this means not leaning so hard on showing Rhaenyra as just like Daenerys, but showing Dany's traits in the others. Show Helaena finding freedom, power, and independence on dragonback and savoring her strong bond with Dreamfyre, which comes more easily to her as an autistic woman surrounded by people playing the unspoken game of thrones around her. Show Aegon on Sunfyre after the coronation as he wears the conqueror's crown and reminds the people of his ancestral Targaryen power and right to rule. Show their children and their hatchlings. Let Baela have her own opinions apart from her betrothed and his mother and let her be bold in expressing them. Let Rhaena learn the importance of politicking and soft power in ruling and gaining allies and the balance between hard and soft power, and let the moment she hatches Morning at the end of the war be a melancholic moment, as she finally has a dragon but now is alone in this fact as one of the last living Targaryens.

We should be able to see traces of Daenerys in all of these Targaryens, and choosing just one to try to emulate Daenerys over all the others is a misstep and minimizes the impact of this story as a dynastic civil war of a family destroying itself.

[shunnedmorlock]

you know what's something i realized? rhaenyra talks on and on about how just furious she is about blood and cheese, and then she just... doesn't do anything about it. like, she has this whole dramatic confrontation with daemon about it and it's supposed to be this big turning point and then she just... lets him leave.

if she's so incensed by what he's done and wants justice for alicent and her family, why not call for her guards to arrest daemon for his actions? if she wants peace, why not come to alicent with daemon's head in a sack? the whole scene is supposed to show us that rhaenyra is not the monster the greens paint her as, yet in actuality it shows us that rhaenyra merely tacitly accepts the support of monsters. it doesn't matter if she personally didn't do it. by refusing to punish daemon, she condoned his actions.

and this isn't necessarily a bad thing, character-wise! rhaenyra being someone who recoils from brutal violence on paper, but tacitly condones it when done in her name, would be very interesting! but the issue is that no one calls her out on it! alicent just takes it as a given that rhaenyra wasn't responsible, and then doesn't seem to take any interest in which of her allies was responsible, and the show carefully elides the very fact that rhaenyra has made a decision by letting daemon go. the show takes pains to present it as if daemon is a force of nature, as if rhaenyra can no more stop him than she can stop the rain, because to do otherwise might make her a more complex figure.

and this really goes to the root of the problem with rhaenyra. in the books, rhaenyra is a character who makes a lot of decisions that reveal uncomfortable or unsavory aspects to her character. but the show wants rhaenyra to be a Good Guy. yet they can't replace her bad decisions with good decisions, because then they'd be completely changing the plot. so instead, they replace her bad (or even just mean) decisions with indecision. she doesn't decide to kill Vaemond - Daemon decides for her. she doesn't decide to do Blood and Cheese - Daemon decides for her. she doesn't decide to condone Blood and Cheese - Daemon (somehow) decides for her. she doesn't decide to go to war - Alicent decides for her.

the end result of all of this is that Rhaenyra's character flaws get removed, but they aren't replaced with anything notably or impressively good. because the show can't be a story about a good and honorable Queen unjustly overthrown by ungrateful lords. so instead, she's bland. a character who is supposed to be unique in that she Decides things on such a great scale is only allowed to make the smallest and most inconsequential decisions, lest she make a mistake.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

What I love about Ghosts is how much of a slow burn the enemies to found family is. Yes there's a pretty big leap from "tried to kill her" to "forced allies of convenience" in the first two episodes, there needs to be to set up the premise, but after that there's such a gradual build up to a real cosy feel in the group.

It would have been so easy to have this dynamic reach its peak by the end of S1. There's a few soft moments like Alison talking to Pat's family and the Friends sofa bit outside but only after Pat explains to her how important the moonah ritual is to Robin. But it's not enough to make them that close yet and in the finale the ghosts mostly want Alison to stay for their own convenience, except Kitty and Thomas, with Fanny only just beginning to accept Alison is part of her bloodline. Captain still wants them gone but concedes to help them stay more for the others. Alison is touched by the gesture of the jewel but still admits that it's a nightmare living with them and wants to leave - and only stays because Captain screws her over via manipulating Kitty.

S2 starts with her waking up and sighing about how she's still "living the dream" (aka her nightmare). However, so we're not quite on the same page as last season, she has now established a routine with the ghosts and knows what each of them need. There's a feeling of comfort beginning to creep its way in, even if they still annoy her. And they're still not willing to help her at the drop of a hat, especially Julian unless he can get something in return, and some will go as far as to work against her when she's trying to make the house look haunted. Had the Grey Lady episode took place in S5 you know they would have all jumped at the chance to help Alison whatever she asked. But this series has a lot more episode focused on Alison connecting with the group like learning about how Thomas died and the Captain's past and Kitty's kinda sad childhood, so it feels natural and heartwarming when they all come together to help protect the house from burglars for her and she appreciates out loud how they're not as selfish as when she first came there. And they all do what they can to help with the wedding, partly for it to be a success for Alison but also just to help. Honestly on my first watch, with the snow and everything, I thought that was the Christmas special! So it lead in nicely to the actual one. Because the gang are finally at the stage where Alison would be comfortable spending Christmas with them and they all come together to sing with her to make her happy, even Robin who thinks Christmas is just a recent fad.

Series 3 is where that leap from friends to family happens and is contrasted with Alison thinking she's found a long lost blood relative, which she confesses is something she's wanted as she never had a lot of family around her. I like that they didn't have Lucy be her actual sister that turned out to be a villain, as we already have an abusive sister with Eleanor, but it still serves as a parallel between her and Kitty to make Alison realise that she has found a sister, and more. Robin saying "welcome home" and the look on Alison's face is enough to let us know this is no longer just a project for her with some annoying pests to deal with. And the final shot of them all "eating" together is one of my favorites.

The show could have easily ended there if it wanted to. Or it could have gone on another two seasons with everything being perfect and wholesome. But it doesn't; because families are not perfect. We still have an episode centered around the ghosts trying to apologise for upsetting Alison, much like a bunch of kids with an overworked mother, and they want to make it up to her not for their benefits but because of what she means to them. Episode 2 also has Alison missing feeling needed by the ghosts when they're busy doing their own thing and realising she just wants to spend time with them, even if it's just something as simple as a walk with Robin. And when Mary passes on, Alison is absolutely devastated and puts aside her work duties to prioritise helping the other ghosts grieve. Then there's her joining (evil) forces with Julian to take on Barclay together. And the series ends with Robin, who began the show just enjoying scaring the shit out of Alison for the lulz, confronting his ten thousand years old ptsd and taking a bolt of lightning to save her husband.

That's four years of development. Compare this to the CBS version where they all click together a lot faster and we don't see nearly as much of Sam losing her temper with the ghosts, and plots always seem to be wrapped up so much quicker (the fact there was no apology from Thor for possessing her still irks me). This isn't necessarily a knock against the American version, their episodes are ten minutes shorter because of ads, and it's more of a style choice as well as Sam just being a far more patient character than Alison. I know a lot of people prefer that the show begins a lot more wholesome to start with so it's down to taste. For me the heartwarming moments mean so much more when they've been earned over a lot of struggle.

Take the climax of Series 5. It's one of the few moments of TV that have made me gasp out loud. I genuinely forgot that we never saw Alison find out Julian pushed her. I guess I assumed she found out off screen or worked it out when she realised Julian's ghost power. But it really was the perfect point for her to find out; because had it happened any earlier then she wouldn't have hesitated to leave with no amount of speech able to change her mind, and likewise Julian wouldn't have had anything to say to her. But as someone else pointed out, it's much more difficult to forgive someone you love for doing something truly evil, even if at the time you were less than strangers. It's a crushing betrayal for Alison to find out that someone she thought as family once tried to kill her but also that the rest of them kept it secret. There's no obligation or pressure for her to forgive them; but she chooses to, because it's been earned over more than three years. And to parallel the S1 finale, the other ghosts are desperate for her to stay (including Cap this time), no longer for their own convenience but just because they love her.

And now we wait in terror for the Christmas episode to rip all of it to pieces. 🥺

[donutwatches]

MHA 2.25 - Encounter - part 2/3

First watch, no spoilers, thanks!

It's tea time with our friendly neighborhood villain. Who wouldn't want to get a cup of calming chamomile tea with this face?

Great conversation starter. Why bother with conventional small talk when you can cut straight to, 'So anyway, I hate the world and everything in it.'

Love how Stain gave Shigaraki a villain identity crisis. 'Stain was just knocking over block towers in the play yard, just like me right?' Shigaraki's hate feels like aimless venting in comparison to Stain's clear goal.

Shigaraki was just wandering around the mall, ran into Midoriya purely by coincidence, and thinks, 'maybe this kid who I tried to murder can solve my identity crisis for me.' Deku is braver than me for answering honestly with 'at least Stain has some standards.' lol.

Why did a Linkin Park song start automatically playing in my head when I saw this? ~ IN THE END IT DOESN'T EVEN MAAATTER! ~

UGH, he is twinning with the creepy smile Titan. Honey, you are in a mall, there are so many moisturizers and replenishing face masks you could buy in there.

The only shred of motivation we have for Chap Lips is his hatred of All Might. He dislikes that hero society has become complacent, because of their reliance on All Might.

He is right on this point. I have even made the same complaint, but why does that bother Shigaraki so much that he would turn to villainy? There has to be more to it.

A FLASHBACK! The hand? The blood? Shigaraki when he was young? But it only showed 3 seconds. I need more! I am begging!

Oooh, this is what I mean, there has to be something more personal behind his hatred, right? Did All Might fail to save Shigaraki's family from a villain or something? How did he get mixed up with AFO? I have so many questions.

The Mean Girl saga continues. Shigaraki is about to become the new popular villain by stepping on Staingina's neck. It is sick (and great) how Shigaraki is using Stain's reputation to pull allies to him. It is the smartest move he has made so far.

Click here for part 3

Click here for the masterlist

TAGLIST

@granny-griffin, @jessiedead, @blackaquokat, @champion-prism, @hyperfixations-and-cringe

[clockwayswrites]

Bleeding Out, Bleeding In - the Start

This is the start of the resulting fic from the winning poll option of 'Crime Boss is a Dangerous Job'. And boy did it go places.

A solid 40 of you wanted to wait for ao3, but the other 59 are feral gremlins who want a part now! Those who want to wait, don't feel pressured to read. This might be up on ao3 this week or if not then next week! (Yes, that doesn't add up to 100, one vote is me so I can see the poll results.)

wc: 1059 Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood, blood drinking, mentions of death and dying, brief mentions of human tracking, so much cussing.

-

Brainless motherfuckers.

Every single one of them, brainless motherfuckers.

One would think that eight heads in a duffel bag would have been enough.

One would think that people would learn his fucking rules. They were easy rules. Don’t hurt kids. Don’t sell to kids. Don’t hurt sex workers. Don’t traffic people. Don’t fuck with him.

And these motherfuckers had fucked with him. They had fucked with his rules.

Red Hood stared down at the lifeless eyes of the traitorous lieutenant.

Ex-lieutenant.

Brainless motherfucker.

Hood was insulted that someone that incompetent had managed to make him bleed, even if it had been eleven against one. And fuck if he wasn’t bleeding badly. Hood pressed his hand tighter to his wound with a hiss and let himself slump back against the grimy wall of the ally that he had slunk into. His hand became wet with warmth.

He must have already bled through the hasty field bandage that he had slapped on the wound.

Numbers slipped through Red Hood’s foggy mind as he tried to calculate about just how bad of a fact that was— about how heavily he must be bleeding out. Fuck if he wasn’t bleeding out.

Could he make it to his safe house in time? No. Could someone make it to him in time? Maybe, but who could he call? He wasn’t going to turn around and let another lieutenant stab him in the other side. B— maybe it would be better to just bleed out than deal with B and another lecture. As if this hadn’t been in self defense. As if he hadn’t acted to stop kids from being sold. As if a moment of hesitancy about killing a man he’d been working closely with for a year had been what got Hood in this spot.

And Dick was off world.

Dick was always off world when he needed him.

That wasn’t fair. What did Dick owe him? It’s not like they had ever been family. Dick had never wanted him. The last person who had wanted him didn’t even want him enough to stay sober.

Blood loss made him maudlin, apparently.

Dying by explosion had been easier.

“You know, not what I expected to find dumpster diving tonight.”

Hood’s hand dropped to brush over the grip of his gun. It was up and aimed before his head even had time to lull towards the voice. The hand holding the gun was steady even as his vision swam staring down the sight.

“Not that I’m doubting you can use that, Boss, but would rather you didn’t,” the stranger said, hands up in the air. One large duffel sat at their feet. Another smaller duffel was slung over their back. A hoodie at least three sizes too big swamped the slim figure— hiding both their form and face. The steel toed boots looked comically large at the end of stick thin legs.

Hood knew better than to think they weren’t a threat.

Anyone could be a threat in Gotham.

“Really, Boss, I’m just out here dumpster diving for supplies,” they continued, motioning to the warehouse district around them. “Not going to lie and say I won’t happily loot your corpse if you keel over right there, but would rather you stay breathing. I can help with that, if you let me.”

“And if I say no?” Hood asked, his voice a breathless rasp even through the modulation of the helmet.

“If you say no to the help, I’ll just be on my way. There are other dumpsters to go through like the feral raccoon that I am.”

His arm dropped down to hang limply at his side. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He shouldn’t trust this stranger. “Look more like a street rat to me.”

“We’ll compromise to possum then,” they said, slowly lowering their arms.

He shouldn’t trust this stranger. Did it mater if he did?

He was bleeding out.

The gun slotted back into its holster.

“There you are Boss, we’ll get you patched back up.”

Hood blinked. They were tucking themselves under his shoulder, leaning him up off the warehouse wall.

Hood blinked. They were disabling security on a heavy, cast iron door set into a concrete floor.

Hood blinked.

“Not going to lie, Boss, you’re in a bad way.” The words were distant— like listening to them through a thick wall. Static ran under the words. Static that burrowed under his skin and into his blood.

Static that burned at a part of him he tried to ignore.

“Think they got something pretty vital with that knife.”

He didn’t want to burn.

“Stitched you up but…”

He didn’t want to die.

“Oh Boss.”

Not again.

“I know, Boss.”

A cold hand brushed over his temple and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the sensation. He strained to arch up into the touch. He wanted it. He wanted to feel. He didn’t want to slip away again. He didn’t want that void of death. He didn’t want to die again.

The voice shushed him. “I know.”

He trembled. The static sang in his veins.

“There’s something I can try, Boss, but it will change thing.”

Things were always changing.

“Not like this. You’re not on the knife’s edge yet. You’re still living. If you die you right now you tip over to the other side.”

He’d done that before.

“I know, Boss. But if we do this, you’re not going to tip over anymore, you’re going to balance on that knife’s edge. Not dead but not alive. It’s a fine line to walk.”

Everything in his life was a tightrope: hero, villain; son, enemy; brother, stranger. What was one more thing? Alive, dead.

He didn’t want to be dead again.

“Okay, Boss, okay.”

The hand pulled a whine from his throat as it moved away. A soft coo hushed him quiet again. The sound rumbled in with the static untill the soothing noise sat inside him.

His head tilted up as something slid under his neck. Hands guided his head to lay back down onto a soft surface.

Something wet dripped against his lips. Spice bloomed across his tongue.

“There you go, Boss,” the voice soothed. The coo rumbled in his chest like a fluttering bird. “Drink up.”

Cold skin and wet warmth pressed against his lips.

Jason drank.

[waeirfaahl]

The issue with Moro's wound

Although "Princess Mononoke" is one of my all time favourite animated films, since deep childhood I couldn't understand the one certain aspect. Why Moro was afraid that the Forest Spirit will take away her life instead of healing? And why would the Forest Spirit take her life away instead of healing?

This question bothered me many years not only because Moro is my favourite character in the film (and Adagio of Life and Death sequence still gives me goosebumps even after many years), but also because the movie doesn't give proper explanation, why she is ready to accept her fate and to die. So, despite her hatred toward humans, Moro still saw in Ashitaka the worthy one, who can and will care about San. The theories like "Moro is too old already, what's the point to prolong the life of old suffering animal?" are very weird, if you realize that Moro is 300-year-old wolf goddess. At least, the official artbook states exactly this age.

While Okkoto is 500-year-old boar god.

He is twice older than Moro, so what's the deal? Especially, if Okkoto himself was sure that the Forest Spirit will heal him after really deadly wounds and serious blood loss (not to mention, how the Forest Spirit saved Ashitaka, who already was almost dead).

The poisoned bullet could be removed from Moro's chest, and if San is less experienced in it (I guess), Ashitaka could help her for sure. I doubt that the bullet broke into several fragments, which are stuck in the bones and are located next to the internal organs. Probably it stuck in layers of skin and muscles. So, technically the removing of this bullet and then sewing up the wound are possible. Especially if to remember that Moro got this wound like a day ago or even only couple of hours ago.

So, most likely there's no threat of sepsis, for example. Again, the Forest Spirit saved Ashitaka, who was almost dead due to the bullet wound in the heart.

Near the end of the film the Forest spirit saved and healed both Ashitaka and San from the hatred curse they got during confrontation with demonic Okkoto and Nago earlier.

And if to look closer, you can notice that the deadly blood/body of the decapitated Forest Spirit is very similar to the snake-like worms that were inside of the demonic boars and spreaded the curse, as well as the liquid around the Forest Spirit's head either accelerated the spread of demonic poison through the body or it added another curse itself. And only after the head was returned, the Spirit healed both Ashitaka and San.

Hence the versions like "Moro confronted Okkoto, trying to save San, so she got Okkoto's hatred curse and will become the demon herself or will die, devoured by the curse, so that's why she can not be healed" also are not valid.

I can only assume that Okkoto couldn't be healed, because he fully transformed into the demon and lost his self irrevocably, so the only way was to give him rest in peace. Plus, mentioning Nago, he kinda hinted that becoming the demon is also some kind of tragedy for entire tribe and the one, who became the demon, is lost forever for his family/tribe (in pretty similar way Ashitaka became lost and dead for his tribe after Nago cursed him during confrontation). And the cherry on the top of a cake — according to early sketches, originally the Forest Spirit actually helped to San and her wolf brothers, healing Moro from the poisoned bullet.

He can do this easily, he is the patron of the forest. So, why on Earth would he refuse to heal and save the wolf goddess, who is not only the wise and useful ally, fighter and guardian, who protected him, the forest and its habitants for many centuries, but also she is mother with the three children, who are not adult for now and hence less experienced?

Maybe there was some allegory for cultural aspects of Feudal Japan or symbolism for warrior-emperor relationships (you know, the idea of "I exist only to serve and to protect my king and kingdom to my last breath, it is forbidden to ask my king for help" or whatever, and the line "She is the daughter of the wolf tribe, when the forest dies, so dies she" kinda gives impression of it), but looking at acts of the Forest Spirit near the end of the film, I don't think so. There was a chance to heal Moro at least from the poisoned bullet.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Does a bad ending ruin a good story? A comprehensive guide to my feelings on the Arcane finale

*Spoilers for Arcane season 2*

So. You just finished the show, and you're staring at the screen in bewilderment. Perhaps you’re even with some friends, shouting words of confusion to the rolling credits. Try as you might, you can barely hear them, because a single thought echoes in your mind and pushes away any other:

“What the fuck just happened?”

If this happened to you, then boy oh boy, we're on the same boat. If it didn't, well, I'm glad for you friend! We might not have been looking for the same things from this story. But this is my post, meaning I will give my opinions (which are objectively correct because this is my blog and I'm the mayor here) on everything that Arcane broke and failed to deliver in its last 2 episodes.

Let's start with characters, and why none of it mattered.

Jinx symbolized the fear we all have of not belonging somewhere, of not having anything to call home or anyone to call a family. Her anger stemmed from wanting to carve a place in a society and a world that had so harshly rejected her (i.e., Vi leaving her). Her existence was a huge middle finger to all that refused to let her live, a fight to build herself something wholeheartedly hers (hence her being an inventor). It was proof that despite the world telling her she was better off dead, she would never stop fighting to prove it wrong.

… and she died.

She died, and that means all the suffering she went through to exist simply amounted to nothing. She left nothing behind either, no trace of a legacy, something that would have left her mark on that world. Isha, the child she raised as a daughter, died. Silco, who she taught love and care to, died. Vander, who she brought back from years of trauma and torture, died. Jinx fought so hard to live, and in the end, it was as if she hadn't lived at all.

Viktor is most certainly the character that made me the angriest, because of how attached I am to the person he is in season 1 (and even the first two acts of season 2 to an extent). Everything that made him so beautifully complex… gone, in about 10 minutes. There was NO reason to make him the surprise ultimate villain. Viktor had always, always been a pacificist. That's why he was so adamant Hextech not be used as a weapon. That's why every time there were chances to test hextech to hurt, he tried to learn how it could heal. Yes, his fusion with the hexcore had changed him; but NOT into a man who didn't care for human life. He wanted to help all the hurt done to his people. People like him, living day to day in the undercity, but who had never gotten a chance to crawl out of their hell. His community was about HEALING, not controlling. The very IDEA that he would accept killing innocents and ally with Noxus, the warmongers, is so ridiculous I could genuinely laugh if it didn't make me so angry. The show needed an easy, black-and-white showdown to conclude a story that would have needed so much more time to tell. And they chose Viktor. Because it was the easy way out. It was the perfect foil to the return of the Golden Boy. And that PISSES me off.

There is this really shitty concept in popular media that the handicapped/chronically ill character is always in the pursuit of being “cured” and that they need outside help to realize “that their imperfections make them perfect”. Fuck. You. As someone with chronic illness and who just finished beating blood cancer, fuck you. That realization, that you're you with every part of your being, even the ‘bad’ ones, cannot come from outside. It's YOU who needs to learn it. It's you who needs to discover how your body and your mind are so much stronger than you previously thought them to be. Not your lover, your family, your friends, or God forbid your able-bodied lab partner. You. Others may tell you as many times as they want your illness doesn't define you; it won't matter until you, yourself, have understood why and have accepted it. Having someone swoop in and “fix” Viktor with a “you don't have to change uwu” is just….. so reductive I can barely find the words for it. That was VIKTOR’S path to find, and not Jayce’s role to find it for him.

Also… Viktor wasn't trying to ‘fix’ his leg; he was trying to find a cure to a deadly illness ravaging his body and no doubt the bodies of many in Zaun. The HELL is the message here??? That he should have just rolled with it because the deadly illness was part of him??? Again, as a cancer survivor. Fuck right off.

Of course, I can't just ignore the hideous get-up they put him in at the end. The man who laughed at Jayce's narcissism….you want me to believe… he would put on that fucking edge lord costume and not DIE of embarrassment??? The design makes no sense from a narrative standpoint either: if his cane has become the sceptre, why is he still keeping it? He doesn't need it anymore to walk, and it's a reminder of his weaknesses as a human that he apparently hated so much. Why the hell does he keep it then? And the hexclaw. Where did that bad boy come out from?? Did you all see a secret extra bonus scene where he steals it from the lab, because I sure didn't. It doesn't add anything to his sets of powers either it’s… it's a fucking laser gun. WHY. And oh sweet god that mask… there would have been so many ways of designing a mask more meaningful than the one from LoL. This one is just. A piece of metal he spawned in embryo. Get it? Because he's made of metal now and also hiding his face means no more humanity? Get it?? Of fucking course you do, because this was the easiest and worst possible way they could have integrated the mask.

Viktor and Jayce had a fantastic dynamic in that Viktor had started out as the loner, the underdog scientist from the slums; while Jayce was the leader figure, living in comfort that made him attachingly naive, his face plastered on posters stroking his ego. The shift is delightfully slow, as Viktor gains in confidence and determination to see his invention through no matter what, while Jayce is confronted with harsher and harsher truths about the world he so blissfully ignored. By Act 2, they have fully switched roles: Viktor is now the leader figure, a symbol of the future for the people, while Jayce is desperately alone, both physically in the hexcore anomaly, and mentally in being the only one who has seen the devastating future. Excellent stuff. What would be a great way to push these parallels further and to show the complexity of these characters, and perhaps how they can balance each other out? Well, Fortiche sure didn't know, now Viktor is the bad bad guy and Jayce is mister hero. Zaun bad, Piltover good. All nuance, gone. Proving that indeed, the man from poverty and inequality turns out evil, while the one from comfort and wealth turns out to be the hero of the story. The whole “giving a warm speech to the bad villain about how you care for them, somehow immediately changing their ways, and dying together to save the world” can work well in shounen anime where friendship is magic, or in the Ben 10 live-action movie (yes, that's the plot, I thought that wasn't deep when I was like 7 years old so imagine now), but not in a show like Arcane. Not with the ethical and moral nuances they have accustomed us to.

And now, let's explore...

Plotholes and incomplete storylines galore.

Ekko’s tree and the contamination of Zaun from Piltover? Fuck that. The huge showdown between the two opposite yet sister cities, like Jinx and Vi, that has been built up for two seasons? Fuck that. And for what?

For the Noxus sequel teaser.

Mel’s plotline about finding her mage origins had NOTHING to do with the main plot. Absolutely nothing. It added 0 twists or intrigues to the story, and served no purpose except making her a deus ex machina for a broken ending. All it was there for was to lay the base for a following show on Noxus and the Black Rose. Time that could have been spent either giving Mel a proper arc related to the plot, or giving all the other rushed character arcs more development.

Finally, and I deeply regret having to say this, but… the end of Vi and Cait's relationship was majorly disappointing to me. As an LGBTQ+ person myself, who feels attraction to women, it was a delight to have such a realistically portrayed w/w relationship on screen. Popular media tends to portray m/m relationships as these doomed, sinful feelings between two repressed guys, while w/w relationships are shown to just be all sunshine and rainbows and teddy bears, because two women together are a cute little accessory to have on screen. It’s non-threatening. But not Cait and Vi; their bond was raw, and rocky, with violent lows and passionate highs in a world that seemed to want to keep them apart. Their separation and the introduction of Maddie showed the reality of a w/w relationship, where fights and cheating ARE things that happen, because they're two adult women with different beliefs, objectives, an trauma. Putting them back together, as if nothing had happened, without giving us anything about how their relationship would have evolved from the breakup? I'd never thought I'd say this, but it's too easy. How about Caitlyn's literal descent into fascism??? We’ll just ignore that? Vi will just ignore that?

As with everything else, this last part of Arcane destroys all the complex emotions that exist between these characters, the resentment, the anger, the frustration, built upon years of different social conditioning… gone. Because they had 2 episodes left to wrap it up, and there was no way to make a coherent and natural transition to them getting back together with that kind of time. And can I just say. The decision to have Vi, symbol of Zaun, go down on Caitlyn, symbol of Piltover and enforcers, in a prison cell that has held innocent Zaunites and represents their complete lack of freedom as individuals by a cop state that oppresses them….. yeah, bad. So bad.

And… the multiverse. Yup, they went the multiverse route. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing: the concept of multiverses itself is interesting in a vacuum, and quite a few properties have managed to make it work coherently. But it has been terribly overused and bastardized in serialized content in the last few years, for the simple reason that it's extremely practical. Why make a new, original series when you already have worlds and characters that are developed, and come with built-in fans? It's a money-saving hack! Why dedicate yourself to an ending that is meaningful in its finality and wraps the story properly when you can just say “It's just one ending in the multiverse!”. It takes away any accountability to the fans, and leaves the door open to a potential other version of the story! The perfect combo!

…except in practice, it comes off as lazy in a medium where that trope is overly saturated (don't start me on Marvel), and like a cowardly way of escaping from the responsibility of really taking the time to craft a good, solid ending to end your story.

So, with all that said: does it ruin Arcane for me? No, absolutely not, and I don’t think it should be for you either. The intricate artistry and raw talent that went into making the first season (and I would say a majority of the two first acts of season 2) is undeniable, and will stay undeniable. Nothing can touch that story. It will forever be one of my favourite pieces of animated media, which is saying a lot because I'm currently getting my master's degree on that topic.

However, it does give Arcane, as a whole rather than two separate seasons/entities, a very bittersweet feeling that is hard to forget. Thinking of what could have been, just if a little more time had been given to the minds behind the masterpiece you so loved… it's its own form of heartbreak. Academics have even compared it to experiencing a form of death of a loved one, before they ever got to reach their fullest potential and live the life they deserved. It may sound dramatic, but the feelings you feel in this moment, watching the horrible end of a fiction you have so much love for, are real. No one can take those away from you. You're allowed to grieve the loss of something that meant a lot to you.

Tldr; No, Arcane is not a bad series because of its rushed and incomprehensible ending. As they say, it's all about the journey, not the destination, even if that's one of the parts we tend to remember the most. And I don't know about you, but this was one of the best journeys I've ever been on.

[henriettadreaming]

I really don't understand the writer's reasoning for race swapping the Velaryon's, when every Velaryon is mistreated or cast aside by the all white Targaryen's. Literally everyone of them.

• Corlys - Is apparently so selfish he's willing to disregard all of his blood related family to put a white boy that is no relation to him on his ancestral seat just because he carries his last name? Even though there's plenty of other actual Velaryon's that carry the Velaryon name.

• Vaemond - Gets murdered for telling the truth, and not wanting Driftmark to go to someone who isn't a true Velaryon. I think they only added him calling Rhaenyra a whore after calling her son's bastards to try and make his death justifiable, as if calling someone a bad name = off with his head.

• Laena - Is married to Daemon but knows that she isn't his first choice, and if he had his way he'd be with his (white) niece. Is stuck by his side in Pentos even though he knows she wants to return home. Supposedly dies a *badass* dragon rider death, but I just saw a pregnant black woman dying in agony. Like that doesn't already happen in real life when black women are four times more likely to die in childbirth.

• Laenor - The cuckold of all cuckolds. In almost every scene of adult Laenor he's completely miserable. And apparently he too is willing to disregard all his trueborn family to put a white boy that isn't his on the Driftmark throne. And I don't find Rhaenyra to be some great LGBTQ ally by "letting" Laenor run away and permanently leave his home and family behind so he can be with his partner and she can remarry.

• Baela and Rhaena - Have actual Velaryon blood through their mother, get passed over so another white boy can get something he has no entitlement too. Baela would have had a slim chance of ending up queen because even if Rhaenyra became queen, the lords of Westeros would have been very unlikely to accept an illegitimate son as her heir. Rhaena could become lady of Driftmark but only as a consort through Luke, meaning if he died her claim to Driftmark would die with him.

I'm all for diversity and representation, but was the family who consistently gets walked all over the best choice to make POC?

I think they were aiming for liberal and inclusive, but that doesn't really work when your white characters use and exploit the black characters you've purposely made black.

[abyssal-ilk]

do you have any thoughts on viv x blackwall friendship dynamic?

- 🪄

I DO, ACTUALLY! thank you so much for the ask!!!

i think it is a very strained friendship, if one can even call it "friendship". they both perceive the other to be something they are staunchly against. vivienne views the wardens as being unnecessary/dated at best and predatory/dangerous at worst, and blackwall views vivienne to be a pampered noble lady who's willingness to get involved with the inquisiton and her subversion of his expectations of her makes her suspicious. vivienne sees blackwall as a puppy because of his eagerness to matter, and blackwall sees vivienne as a snake because of the cunning that allows for her survival.

(i've barely touched on this before but i do think the fact that vivienne is a woman plays into how blackwall goes about interacting with her. he would not be speaking to her in their banter with the same manner if vivienne were a man, and i think that's important to note.)

i think there is only a very small window where vivienne and blackwall could reasonably be considered friends, and it would have to be after haven falls but before blackwall is revealed to be thom rainier. in my mind it is a friendship of necessity; neither particularly likes the other, but they are fighting together alongside the inquisitor and share a common goal. it's hard to be constantly at someone's throat when you're spilling blood with them and then patching up their wounds afterwards. and they are both defenders! keeping the rest of their team safe is something both vivienne and blackwall care deeply about, and if nothing else, that protectiveness is something to bond over. even if blackwall struggles to see vivienne's care for what it is and vivienne thinks blackwall's viewpoint is vastly naive.

vivienne and blackwall aren't as different as they think, either! they're both free marcher commoners who have had to carve out a place for themselves in orlais as foreigners, but vivienne succeeded in finding a place for herself and blackwall lost that place when he took that bribe and allowed his men to kill a family of innocents. blackwall allowed his own selfishness to get the best of him at the cost of others– something vivienne has not done, and i think that conficts with the view blackwall has on nobility and soldiers, or authority in general. a soldier is just a man following orders to him– the ones commanding the soldiers are the ones to blame for any wrongdoing. but vivienne does not order soldiers. she is a "noble lady" to him, but takes matters into her own hands and puts herself at risk while blackwall once allowed his men to take the fall for himself. this defying of expectations rattles blackwall and he projects a lot of his own insecurities onto her.

vivienne doesn't know any of this, of course, until after blackwall is revealed to be thom rainier. and i do not think vivienne would be forgiving of that deception. she'll play somewhat nice so long as the inquisitor is willing to keep blackwall around, but blackwall being willing to allow his men to slaughter a family for his own gain and then spending years hiding from it? treating her as being suspicious and manipulative when he was the one lying all along? yeah. she's not just letting that go. especially if she happened to start actually liking him somewhere in all of that, and considering she eventually ended up caring for cole? it's not that big of a reach to think she did the same for blackwall.

it's especially juicy if vivienne personally knew the family that blackwall had his men kill, as vincent callier was an ally of celene and vivienne was celene's advisor. or even if rainier was someone vivienne previously took interest in when he was in the army because he was a free marcher like she was. there's a lot of potential in their dynamic!! they're soo fun to think about

i have like half an old fic written of blackwall helping patch up vivienne after a fight while they're seperated from the rest of the party that digs into their dynamic a bit,, mayhaps i will finish it if people are interested

[acotarfrustrations]

An ongoing list of ACOWAR grievances I'm keeping track of while I read (because there's too many to make a post about all of them) pt. 2

I'm on chapter 15 now and feeling the urge to complain again so here we go

1) the writing is way too overdramaticized. Like every other paragraph is some remixed version of feyre going "I wondered whether it would be eggs or bacon for breakfast. But when I looked at Rhys I realized that he was giving me my own choice. My mate, my high lord. In our home. With our family. Every thing was always my choice" and its CONSTANT, LIKE OH MY GOD GIRL SHUT UP

2) every thing about Lucien's plotlineand the elain mating thing. I HATE this subplot with a PASSION

3) feyre immediately fucking rhys when she got back instead of going to see her sisters

4) feyre and rhysand acting like they've ben separated for forty centuries instead of a month

5) the contradictions about how the high lord thing works. Like it was established that its a government position given to you through basically fate and being chosen by the cauldron or whatever which is why siblings kill each other for a chance for the throne and yet they just went to a priestess and swore feyre in as high lady?? It makes her title not feel real like it's purely ceremonial. It doesn't even make sense that she would be able to be HL of the night court as she has no more ties to that court than she does any other court. Is it because she's mated to Rhys? I don't understand the HL lord at all, it just keeps changing

6) the fact that Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian tell Lucien about their tragic backstories and everything that's happened to feyre at the NC and he just immediately does a Feyre™️. Like he's suddenly "Oh yeah you had a horrible childhood and took feyre into your found family without letting her explore relationships outside of the IC, that totally makes up for all the evil shit THAT IVE SEEN YOU DO WITH MY OWN 2 EYES. wow i cant believe youre not evil even though you killed 50 winter court children and sexually assaulted your mate and mind raped her constantly to get her to like you"

7) the way they're treating Nesta. It has been a MONTH since she was stolen from her home, brought amongst a race that she is terrified of and THAT ENSLAVED HER PEOPLE, and was forcefully turned into ONE OF THEM and the IC is acting like she's being unreasonable for not wanting to talk to them or to mate with Cassian. WHY THE HELL WOULD SHE EVEN BE THINKING ABOUT CASSIAN RIGHT NOW?? WHY THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL BAD FOR HIM? Instead of him worrying about how his mate is doing regardless of his own comfort he's like WOE IS ME, SHE DOESNT WANT TO FUCK ME?????? GET OVER IT ASSHOLE?? WHY IS FEYRE EVEN LETTING CASSIAN COME NEAR HER AND ANTAGONIZE HER?? DOESNT SHE LOVE TO FLAUNT HER HL STATUS AROUND?? THIS IS THE TIME TO USE IT, PROTECT YOUR GODDAMN SISTER FROM HIM? ITS SO OBVIOUS THAT SHE DOESNT GIVE NEARLY AS MUCH OF A SHIT ABOUT NESTA AS SHE DOES ELAIN!!

8) the fact that sjm didn't keep cassian's wings shredded. Him learning to live with that would have been a badass character development but now sjm doesn't want me to have good things

9) the mating bond in general. I think it could be a potentially good plot device but no one ever employs it well and sjm is definitely the most egregious with it

10) the fact that the ic never gave consequences for their fucking actions. Feyre dies in acotar? Turn her into a fey and give her ALL of their powers. Stealing a precious artifact that they didn't even end up needing and getting a bounty on their head in the summer court and then getting that court invaded? That's fine because feyre is SOOO brave and says things that are common fucking sense which makes her SOOOO smart so we obviously need her as an ally so we'll just rescind the blood rubies. Getting the spring court sacked? That's fine we didn't like them anyway. Rhys and feyre's bond gets snapped? Well they didn't know about our super secret mating bond that is actually the only thing that gives our characters chemistry so we still like each other. Rhys causes irreparable damage to every court for 50 years and kills 50 kids? Well that's fine he was being held hostage and hey! We don't know he actually killed those kids 😡 Feyre, a 20 year old girl who's been fae for like 6 months and training for even less goes up against thousands of years old beings? She beats them effortlesslessly! Rhys gets sexually assaulted for 50 years! Well he planned all of it so it has no negative consequences on him. Cassian gets his wings shredded? Well he worked really hard and they're fixed now 🥰. Rhys FUCKING DIES?? Well that's no problem, tamlin can just resurrect him, nvm the fact that there's no reason why he WOULD. like no harrowing situation is ever interesting cause we all know sjm isn't actually going to do anything to the ic

11) "my mate" STOP SAYING IT PLS IM BEGGING

12) "males and females" STOP SAYING IT PLS IM BEGGING pt. 2

[queenvhagar]

It seems like a lot of House of the Dragon's writing issues in the first season stem from the disastrous final season of Game of Thrones, specifically the rushed implementation of Daenerys' Mad Queen arc. It feels like the writers and HBO are hyper aware of Daenerys' ending being fumbled and the negative audience reaction it garnered, and now they're trying to correct the mistakes of the main series through the prequel series and specifically its characterization of Rhaenyra. Both Rhaenyra and Daenerys are Targaryen dragon riding queens motivated by their perceived birthright, but the similarities between the two characters are surface-level. In reality, Daenerys and Rhaenyra are not the same character, and the story of the Dance of the Dragons is not the story of the War of the Five Kings.

Daenerys is the last Targaryen (as she knows it), a former slave who seeks to use the power of her dragons to reclaim the throne and in the process abolish the institution of slavery as it exists in the world, a true revolutionary who seeks to transform society through fire and blood if need be (and if a Mad Queen arc appears in the books, it will undoubtedly be because the existing Lords in Westeros would likely oppose a restructure of society - after all, they are the primary beneficiaries of the feudalist society - and this could lead to conflict with Daenerys, which would escalate).

Rhaenyra is the named heir to the throne. Her position is "quite comfortable" - she enjoys her privileges (which is very fair of her). However, her privileged position above others leads her to act according only to her own desires and not her duty as heir. She fights only for herself and her own (although the show added the prophecy to obscure this motivation), and despite having the power and influence as the most powerful woman in the realm to promote "a new order" as she once envisioned a child, she repeatedly reinforces existing structures to further her own power (like defending Lucerys' illegitimate claim so her own looks stronger with her son as Lord of Driftmark instead of advocating for Baela to inherit as Laena's eldest daughter, something that ironically could have really supported her own claim of "eldest child inherits" in the process - and she could have sidestepped the bastard issue). Rhaenyra wants to be the exception to the rules; she doesn't seek to rewrite them for anyone else. Rhaenyra is a "rebel" only in the sense that she's breaking the law and then using her privilege to avoid facing the consequences of her actions at all costs.

You can argue that both Rhaenyra and Daenerys are breaking ground when it comes to becoming queen of Westeros, and both are motivated by their beliefs in Targaryen supremacy and their perceived birthrights to the throne. They might both be known as a "Mad Queen" - Rhaenyra's arc will come, and when it does, I'm really hoping it will be because of the reasons it was in the books: her suspicion and distrust leading her to isolate herself from her allies, eventually turning on them, and her disregard for the commonfolk leading to her being driven out of the city and the death of dragons (though I won't be surprised if the writers shy away from this, in fear of repeating any aspect of Daenerys' portrayal). But fundamentally, trying to write Rhaenyra to be Daenerys 2.0 so that they can fix the mistake of the Game of Thrones ending kind of ruins the Dance.

The Dance wasn't written as just the tragedy of a heroic girl taken down by sexism and misunderstandings, which is the story the show seems to be trying to tell. It's the tragedy of a family tearing itself apart, of the cultural conflict between Westeros and their Valyrian conquerors, of the desire for power and the lengths one will go to in order to get it.

But the writers are more interested in trying to tell a largely black and white story where they can make up for what they did with Daenerys' arc. Unfortunately for everyone, Rhaenyra is not Daenerys, and the Dance is not the War of the Five Kings.