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jonsnowunemploymentera · 13 days ago

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Thinking about how one of the most important motifs in Dany’s childhood memories is a seemingly nonexistent lemon tree. Or rather, a tree that her memory insists exists where it naturally shouldn’t. And thinking about how, in her last Dance chapter, at a pivotal moment of development, she reflects that while she wanted to plant trees and watch them grow, dragons don’t plant trees. But how funny is it that her narrative ancestor, Princess Daenerys of Dorne, left behind a legacy of planting an entire garden of trees — a place where children of all backgrounds could come and bloom within it? And then thinking back to Dany’s moment in Clash, when she comes upon a barren wasteland. A place that, despite its harshness, has many types of trees growing within it. For a brief moment, she considers staying to nurture and watch it bloom.

Sure, her childhood memories are false. But the lesson isn’t that she doesn’t belong anywhere because she dreams of lemon trees in Braavos, where they don’t exist. Maybe the lesson is that she can plant these nonexistent trees elsewhere.

Lemon trees don’t grow in Braavos, but Dany can grow them wherever she chooses to plant them. And this is something she will have to understand when the Long Night comes. Winter means death. It means the trees will wither and no new ones will grow to replace them. But Dany is the mother of dragons, and her life is tied to the very process of life and death, destruction and renewal. The Long Night will be marked by dead trees that bear no fruit. But that’s okay. Because Dany has spent her entire arc dreaming of trees where there aren’t any. And isn’t THAT the dream of spring?

#remember when grrm said that his heroes are those who dare to dream…???#hehehehe if ya know — YA KNOW! 🤭#yes this is ‘dany will be planting trees literally’ endgame propaganda #‘this is ‘dany lives’ endgame propaganda #‘this is ‘dany is poised to be a natural rebuilder much like bran’ endgame propaganda #and also ‘dany’s leadership arc is a rebuilding cities 101 crash course so as to prepare her for the future’ propaganda #mmhmm #daenerys targaryen #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #the growth of trees is a key motif in dany’s arc let’s talk about it #also thinking about bran who is learning to live deferent lives in the trees and who’s called the prince of the woods and the greens #and bran’s whole thing is tied to the natural order of the world #and imma take some liberties to say that bran as a GREENSEER and dany as a MOTHER of dragons are just #same character different magical fonts #yup parallel main character tingz iktr #also let’s add jon “the corn king” hehehehe

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penumbra-mayhem · 1 month ago

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An Accidental Bridge

Sam/Darlin' fluff | 1759 words

(I hc Darlin' with a stutter; read here for more.)

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Sam’s mind was gently pulled into consciousness as a great horned owl called from outside his bedroom. He glimpsed at the clock on the wall. Nine o'clock. Still late evening, not yet time to be up. Enticed by the owl's promise of a set sun, though, Sam slipped off his blankets.

Bare feet met hardwood as he left the bed, eyes still closed in an attempt to at least stay half-asleep. He shuffled over to his window and pulled back the black-out curtains before feeling around for the latch. His fingers found it just as a sliver of a voice snuck through the silence:

“SSSam?”

He gave a groggy response as he opened the window, “Jus’ gettin’ someair…”

Darlin’ gave a low hum of approval and rolled over to face him. Sam made his way back over and climbed into their bed with all the grace of a drunk bat, eliciting a sleep-laden giggle from his mate.

“Oh, hush,” he grumbled, his smile unwittingly trickling into his voice, “I’m barely awake.�� He drew Darlin’ to his chest.

They both drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the owl’s repeated call. The cool air of early night seeped into their room; the two snuggled further under the covers in response.

"I can feel your magic,” Sam mumbled. It was an uncommon sensation; usually, Darlin' only let their magic extend beyond themself when they felt safe. And they rarely felt safe.

“Yours t-t-too...”

“Feel good?”

Sam felt them nod. He gave them a small kiss before asking, “What’s it feel like?”

Darlin’ drew sleepy circles on his chest as they tuned into his magic. After a few moments of silence, they spoke—slowly, like they were savoring a flavor in their mouth:

“It’s l-l-like….sinking into a wwwarm b-b-bath..it’s like a…b-b-bass…low and in-in the b-back…thrumming…ocean wwwaves under a full mmmoon…immmmense…soothing…l-like aloe v-vera on skin after a-a sunny day…”

Joy swelled in Sam's chest and he tightened his arms around them. “I love the way you put that, darlin’,” he murmured.

Darlin’ smiled softly, sleep tugging at them. “How's mmmine?”

“Yours? Mmm…” Sam allowed Darlin’s magic to seep into him. “Your magic…is like fireworks. Those kinds that you light and then toss into the street to see them spin real quick and change colors…you’re the buzz after a concert...the windswept euphoria when you get off a roller coaster…you’re stargazin' durin' a meteor shower…your magic feels like…like…”

Home.

Darlin’ jumped.

They pushed themself up a bit and stared at Sam with wide eyes.

“What? What is it?” he asked, staring back in concern.

They shook their head. “Fuck, I-I-I heard y-you in-in mmmmy head.”

Sam mouthed a small ‘oh’. Seeing that Darlin’ was more startled than scared, he relaxed slightly. “You think we might of bridged?”

Darlin’ gave a small nod. “I-I didn’t mmmmean t-t-to.”

“Me neither,” Sam assured them, “Guess we were just…in tune with each other.”

They dropped their gaze. "I...I-I haven't d-d-d-done that in-in...in a l-l-l-long t-t-time."

"Me neither," Sam replied. He studied them a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

They nodded again. "Are-are y-you?"

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just worried about you."

Darlin' lowered their head back onto his chest. “I-I’m fine. J-just…surprised mmme,” they muttered, trying to slow Sam's heartrate with their words.

Sam ran one hand up and down their back, with the other in their hair. When he felt like they had both reached a state of calm again, he asked, “Is that somethin' you’d be interested in doin' with me?"

After no response, he added, "S'alright if the answer’s no.”

"You don't wwwant that. N-not wwwwith mmme."

Shut down. It was the kind of response he often got from them. It was the kind of response he couldn't stand. He knew it was a form of protection, and they had been getting better about it. But still, every so often, Darlin' would deny him or themself something in the belief that they were broken or unworthy or dangerous. Every time, it simultaneously burned Sam's heart and broke it.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Darlin' bit the inside of their cheek. When he was met with no response again, Sam kissed the top of their head and entreated, "Please, Darlin'. You don't have to speak quick. You don't even have to give an explanation. But please don't ignore me entirely."

Fuck. How could words spoken soft as candlelight twist guilt into their gut like a knife? Darlin' buried their face into Sam's chest, breathing in his scent. It steadied them.

Finally, they responded, their voice muffled by Sam's sleepshirt, "It...fucking s-sucks…in-in mmmy head."

There it was.

Sam sighed, "That may be true, for you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to bridge with you. I'm not scared of your thoughts, darlin'."

"B-but you should b-be.”

"But I'm not," Sam pushed back, just a little. Silence fell between them, and he let it. Darlin' had answered his question. There was no point in trying to convince them how he felt. He kissed their head once again in silent reassurance that he was not mad and closed his eyes, hoping to get a bit more sleep.

Darlin' bit harder at the inside of their cheek, their mind buzzing with frustration. The owl outside made itself known again; Darlin' laid in indecision as they listened to it call over and over. They could feel Sam's magic—not reaching out but still present. His magic was safe. He was safe. He was strong. Stronger than they were. Braver. Calmer. Steadier.

When Darlin' finally spoke, their voice was small and soft and scared:

"I-I wwwwant t-to try...if-if you also wwwant t-to."

Sam felt his heart skip. He craned his neck to the side to make eye contact with Darlin' as he asked, "You sure? I don't want you doin' this if you're not really wantin’ it."

"You-you give mmme all of you. I-I wwant to do the same. E-Even if it scares mme," they whispered, "I-I wwwant t-to b-be b-brave for you."

"You don't have to."

"B-but I wwant t-to."

Sam studied their face for a moment before kissing their forehead and whispering, "Alright. Thank you, darlin'. But if we start and you don’t like it, you tell me and we’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good…is there a certain way you want to lay or sit?"

"N-n-no. You?"

"Nah, this is perfect."

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his pillow, running his hand through Darlin's hair. Darlin' closed their eyes as well, listening to Sam's heart.

It was quick. Almost as quick as the first time. When the bridge reformed, Sam could feel Darlin's body tense against his. Through the bridge, he felt the tension in his own muscles. He kissed the top of their head.

It's okay. You're safe.

“Fuck.” Fuck, woah, that's fucking weird.

I'm going to fuck this up.

I shouldn't have done this.

I'm just going to hurt you—

—hey, hey, it's ok.

Fuck, sorry, I'll try to quiet down...

...Do you think anyone's ever tried bridging with more than one person at one time?

If you can do that, could you make a true hive mind?

Bee people. Bee shifters? Are there any insect shifters—

—fuck! Sorry!

"SSSorry..." Darlin' muttered. Sam giggled and stroked Darlin's head. The sensation soothed them both.

You're alright, darlin'.

I don’t mind your thoughts.

But you should—

—shut up, Tank—

—fuck, I wish I would just shut up!

Sorry…

...Your head is so quiet.

Shit, I don't mean quiet like empty I just—

—god I am such an ass!

You're not an ass, darlin'.

Damn, I love you.

I love you.

"I love you, darlin'."

Darlin’s body went lax at the assurance. Their mind stilled for just a moment. Tap tap tap. Darlin’ tapped Sam’s chest three times—a gesture he’d come to learn meant ‘I love you’. The feeling of their own fingers echoed against Darlin’s chest.

I love you, too.

So much.

Fuck what time is it?

Shit, we’ve got to get up soon.

Do we?

It’s…Saturday? Yeah, Saturday.

Fuck yeah, we can stay in bed.

We could make breakfast.

More like you could make breakfast, I’m shit at cooking.

I’m shit at most things.

I don’t even think I’m doing this right—

—you’re doin’ just fine, pup.

Sam’s heart skipped as he realized what he’d just thought. Or maybe it was Darlin’s heart skipping, he couldn’t quite tell. His eyes shot open, and he looked down at Darlin’, whose face was already turning red. Sam’s own face began to burn too.

“Fuck, Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to think that.

That wasn’t appropriate.

I should have asked before—

—fuck…

For once, Darlin’s head was quiet. Like static. Sam’s stomach fluttered. Or maybe it was Darlin’s. The bridge was somehow deepening, and Sam struggled to differentiate where the feelings were originating.

I know wolves can be particular with those kinds of names.

Especially when their mates aren’t wolves.

I should have asked.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…

Sam’s thoughts slowed as Darlin’ pressed a soft kiss to his lips. They buried their face into his neck.

“Darlin’?”

I liked that.

You…what? "What?"

Darlin’ groaned quietly, “I-I liked it.”

Call me it again—

—wait, I mean, uh, um…

A grin stretched across Sam’s face. “Oh yeah?” he cooed, stroking the nape of Darlin’s neck.

You like bein’ called pup?

Sam giggled as his stomach fluttered at the word; this time he could tell that feeling definitely came from Darlin’.

You just a little puppy?

My puppy?

“SSSSSaaaammm…” Darlin’ whined.

Sam pulled his body back a bit. Darlin’ turned their head to look up at him. The blush on their cheeks made Sam swoon, but he still had to be sure:

“I can stop, darlin’,” Sam said, his voice soft but serious.

Darlin’ shook their head. “N-no.” It’s just, nobody’s ever called me that…

Sam couldn’t stop grinning. Their blush. The way they ducked their head and avoided his eyes. The weakness in their voice. He rarely saw Darlin’ so bashful.

Well it’s about time…

My sweet puppy…

C’mere… "C'mere."

Darlin’ hummed as they curled themself around Sam once more, tangling their limbs with his. Sam ran his hands through their hair as they traced their fingers over his chest. The two sank into repose as their sensations and thoughts melded and lost origin.

Sam breathed deep and murmured, “Such a good pup.”

Your pup.