#it makes us feel powerless and frustrated

[silverquillsideas]

GOD. this scene. I just need to talk about this scene.

Chi Cheng takes a drunk Suo Wei to his home, not suo wei's room at the clinic, but his own personal sanctuary. He clearly wanted to spend the night with SW, not to sleep with him, but just to take care of him. He's so gentle with SW, taking off his shoes, kneeling down and talking so softly, asking if he's okay, if he's drunk.

and suo wei, even though he's quite drunk, isn't completely unaware of what's happening. he sees what chi cheng is doing for him, sees the care in his eyes and the gentleness of his actions, and he asks an honest, vulnerable question, "why are you so nice to me?" because for all his rough moods and brash manners and biting words, chi cheng has been nothing but nice to him till now, in so many ways.

and this time, when all his walls are lowered, and his guards aren't up anymore, suo wei's subconscious, his heart, that has already caught upto what his logical side isn't prepared to acknowledge yet- gives in. he grabs chi cheng by the front of his shirt and he initiates the kiss-

well, almost a kiss.... because of course, yue yue, with her perfectly infuriating timing, interrupts with a call.

when the call ends, chi cheng comes back to inform him that yue yue, his girlfriend, is coming over, and doesn't elaborate more. but suo wei gets the silent message- he needs to disappear before that happens. and the look that suo wei gives chi cheng is devastating.

that subtle mix of longing and betrayal, laced with anger and frustration and hurt- because while suo wei is mad at chi cheng, at this whole messy circumstance, he is mad at himself too- because just for once, he'd let himself be vulnerable, let himself indulge in this little moment. For just once, he thought he had chi cheng all for himself. and that's why the rude awakening hurts for him even more. (props to zi yu for nailing the heck out of this scene, this single look hit me like a punch to the gut)

he gets up to leave and chi cheng's face here. god. he knows he has hurt suo wei badly, even though suo wei never protests, never says a single word to stake his claim.

so he grabs suo wei for one last hug, before they have to part ways, and he says "I'll surely pay back, what I owe you."

and that's such an interesting choice of words, because he isn't talking about any monetary exchanges at all (because up until now, it was he who paid suo wei those absurd sums of money as part of their little games, gifted a shit ton of stuff to SW just to make him smile), but no. he's talking about the emotional debt that he owes- the debt of gratitude and respect and time that he owes suo wei- for all the times when his hands were tied by his family's expectations and he has had to blow off and sideline suo wei in favor of being at his girlfriend's side, at her beck and call.

and suo wei understands him, even if he's still hurting from it- from being cast aside yet again, being reminded that his and chi cheng's relationship- whatever convoluted, messy thing had grown between them over weeks- their feelings and emotions, was something to be hidden, something that will never be approved by chi cheng's family.

and then he leaves- still inebriated, stumbling in his steps, hurting and all alone, late in the night. and what's worse, chi cheng watches him leave, and for once, he's powerless to stop it.

this last shot of chi cheng is equally devastating, because he's framed behind the blinds of the window like the bars of a cage- and the metaphor is clear, that no matter how much chi cheng schemes and plans, he's still bound by his family's power, who are manipulating him at every step of the way, to get him to behave exactly how they want.

chi cheng was powerless to choose the boy he loved that night, and it was incredible to see the fallout of something seemingly so little and ordinary on the surface gut us all like a knife wound 😭

[silentcaps]

They found out someone hurt you

tags: hurt/comfort, reader trauma, protective partner

cast: cyno, razor, scaramouche x fem!reader

tw: emotional distress, implied harassment

side b: barbara, diluc, itto

CYNO

His colleagues glance at him and smile — like they already know everything. Even the things he doesn’t. Cyno is surprised that bits and pieces of the situation reach him through work chatter, the noise of the Grand Bazaar, and even from patrols deep in the forest — but never from you. It’s as if you don’t trust him enough to share your troubles. And even if that thought cuts deeper than he lets on, Cyno respects your choice and doesn’t bring it up himself. Instead, to keep from overthinking and spiraling, he throws himself into tracking the perpetrator — a real hunt. After all, no one escapes justice when it comes from the General Mahamatra.

Still, he can’t avoid the subject entirely. When he sees you again, he mentions that the criminal has been caught, hoping it’ll bring you some relief. But what he sees instead is pain flickering across your face — and that stuns him.

“Did I do something wrong? Should I not have gotten involved?”

He doesn’t understand your reaction. Maybe he should’ve stayed close, offered comfort instead? But it seemed like you were keeping the issue from him on purpose — to process it in your own space and time.

“I thought… it would hurt your reputation. You care about it so much…”

When Cyno hears the anxious thoughts you’ve been wrestling with all this time, something shifts. He cups your cheeks, catches your gaze, and says with quiet certainty:

“No, of course not… I wouldn’t turn my back on you just to protect my reputation. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Though not someone used to touch, Cyno opens his arms for you — and doesn’t let go until you’re the one to pull away.

RAZOR

Raised by the laws of the wild, Razor doesn’t quite understand why what happened has shaken you so deeply. But he tries to comfort you. Slowly, step by step, he moves closer and tilts his head, gently nudging your shoulder like a she-wolf nuzzling her pup. The silence that follows — your total lack of response — unsettles him more than anything else in the world. A low whine, full of frustration at his own helplessness, escapes from his chest. Razor curls up at your feet, keeping just enough distance to not intrude, but refusing to leave your side. Whatever caused this pain doesn’t matter to him right now. What matters is that you’re hurting. And he’s made it his duty to bring back your sunshine smile and that voice that rings like a bell.

Later, Razor goes to Lisa with questions. After a patient and thorough explanation, after the truth settles in, his fists clench until his knuckles turn white, and his teeth grind together. He grabs his claymore, ready to tear the whole city apart if that’s what it takes to find the monster responsible. He doesn’t fully understand why, but the image of someone’s hands touching you without your permission drives him insane. There’s nothing he can do about it — not directly — but Lisa promises to look into it and talk to Jean to make sure no one else gets hurt.

He returns to your home. The curtains are drawn, everything’s untouched, and you’re buried under heavy blankets. It’s clear you haven’t left your room or eaten all day. Razor sits on the edge of the bed to let you know he’s there, and in a voice cracked with emotion, he says the only thing that feels right:

“I only have Lupical. I protect my Lupical. No one hurt. I fight for Lupical. Keep safe. I want make you feel good. Food gives strength. Makes happy. I make meat. Tasty smell.”

SCARAMOUCHE

Scaramouche doesn’t deal well with tears. During arguments, the moment he notices them, he either sends you away or walks off himself. It doesn’t make him a terrible person — some emotions just hit too hard and leave him feeling powerless.

“Calm down and explain it properly, I can’t make sense of your whining.”

That line comes up a lot. Not because he wants to hurt you — but because that’s how he tries to get to the point and help. Fix the problem. Give you money. Beat someone up. But not offer soft words. And definitely not hugs.

But today is different. Your cheeks are soaked in tears, and you don’t even seem to notice. You’re staring off, empty. Scaramouche forces himself to step closer. He asks what happened. And as he pieces together the broken parts of your story, something inside him snaps. Some pathetic insect thought they had the right to touch you — the parts of you that belong to him, wholly and without question.

Between shaky breaths, you confess that you can still feel it — those touches clinging to your skin like filth that won’t wash off.

“Show me where.”

His cool, familiar fingers follow wherever you point. He presses, massages, grounding you with each motion. Then he leans in and kisses every inch of skin you marked, slow and deliberate — replacing the memory of someone else's hands with his own, painting over it, erasing it.

“Imagine it’s only me touching you. Nothing else. No one else.”

He’ll find the bastard later — drag them out from under the earth if he has to — but right now, helping you is all that matters.

[aardappel-van-mijn-oog]

Kamala is doing everything she can lads.

Try and grasp the situation here: she is the presumptive nominee of a party that is comprised of both staunch Israëli opponents and hard line Israëli supporters. She also is going up against a party of exclusively the latter, and wants to try and convince as many people deciding between the Democrats and Republicans to vote for her in November. She cannot afford to lose because if she does, America will turn into a fascist theocracy for the foreseeable future, and then we will all be fucked because America is the most influential country upon global politics.

So Kamala Harris CANNOT AFFORD to say any more than she is saying about the war in Palestine right now, because if she does, she risks losing the support of a large and potentially election-deciding group of swing voters.

I am a supporter of a free and prosperous Palestine. I believe that Israël has no right to exist as a country, and that it is an apartheid state. But I also have some amount of common sense, and I see that there has to be a compromise here. As, it seems, does Kamala Harris. Watch the video above to see what I mean.

I am not a resident of the United States. I live in the Netherlands, where in the last election, the party with the most votes was the party who wants to ban the Qur’ān and close all mosques, advocates for increased and more violent policing, wants to retract the official apologies made for the Netherlands’ involvement in the Slave Trade, and ban puberty blockers. That’s not because most people want to do those things. It’s because people didn’t fucking vote. Well there are more reasons than that but that’s one of the main ones.

So, Americans. From your friends over in Europe. We like you. We don’t want you to live under a fascist theocracy. However, we don’t have the power to stop that. Only you do, and you can do it by putting aside your grievances and seeing the big picture here. In other words,

VOTE FOR KAMALA HARRIS.

I’m not gonna go into all the rest of her policies, but coming from a gay genderqueer socialist I think she’s pretty solid. Obviously she and I don’t agree on everything, but that’s because we’re unique individuals with different personalities, upbringings and backgrounds. Yknow, like how normal society is? I’ve been hearing so much discourse on this kut website and most of it boils down to “she’s not a carbon copy of me so I won’t vote for her”.

Guys, what the fuck happened to the tolerant left? What happened to the people who welcomed different ideas and beliefs? Are they in the room with us now??? Grow up. Go to your silly little American voting website and register to vote. I don’t know which website it is but someone can link it in a reblog or something idk.

And for my European friends. I know we all dislike how much influence American politics has on our lives. I fucking hate it. But we live in a globalised world, for better or worse, so try as best you can to make as many Americans that you know and love vote for Kamala Harris - or whoever it ends up being - come November. That’s the most we can do to ensure the right wing parties of our own countries don’t see Trump and follow in their footsteps. It’s happening in the Netherlands and we are already seeing the consequences over here. I’d talk about them but this post is too long.

TLDR: OI AMERICANS, VOTE BLUE

(pwease :3)

[cementcornfield]

a take: people who get pissed at these players for fighting for better contracts are projecting about their own work lives. because THEY aren’t fighting to be paid better at work. THEY “honor their contracts” and it must be because they’re a better person than trey, ja’marr, tee (insert whichever athlete here) rather than the truth that that they exist at the mercy of a dying capitalistic society that doesn’t give a shit about them and they’re too scared and too much of a bootlicker to do a single thing about it. they see these athletes fighting and know they don’t have an ounce of fight in their own souls. but they can never admit that! so instead it has to be that they’re more honorable and harder workers (lol) than some of the hardest working most successful athletes out there. 

[neigepomme]

big fan of the trope where caleb cries because he's frustrated. i like to imagine it's some time after his body neutralizes the toring chip, and he's still getting used to fully feeling his emotions — but you do something reckless during your hunter job that lands you in the hospital.

caleb's notified of it. he sees you lying in that dreadful hospital bed, your eyes closed, and looking so much more vulnerable. afraid to hold your hand, to touch you, out of fear of breaking you — and he feels so powerless. no amount of control and strength he holds as the fleet's colonel can change the fact that you're on a hospital bed, with only the faint beep of your heart monitor serving as a reminder that you're still alive.

when you wake up and see him at your bedside, you squeeze his hand and flash him a weak smile.

"just a scratch, you know," comes out as a whisper, your voice still hoarse.

and caleb knows you.

he knows that you're just trying to comfort him, to let him know you're okay. he's fully aware of your personality, how you try to put on a brave face most of the time with him, and how you try not to ask for help anymore. 

somehow, that little comment, meant as reassurance, just makes the frustration bubble in his chest. a star about to explode, to turn into a purple sunset supernova.

he wants to yell at you for being careless with yourself. he wants to hold onto your shoulders and shake you. he wants to question you — "do you even know what could've happened? you could've died," he would say.

however, seeing you so frail in front of him makes him incapable of doing that. and you end up staring at something you didn't think was possible.

caleb's shoulders sag.

a sigh of relief, quickly followed by hiccuped breathing.

a wet drop on your hand.

a sob.

caleb, the man who always put on a brave face in front of you, the man who you never saw crying, was sobbing in front of your very eyes. years of boxed feelings, compartmentalized emotions, facades put on bravely, all came shattering down at once. 

then in between sobs, you hear caleb speak, his eyes still glossy, his freckled cheeks dusted pink and streaked with tears.

“i thought i'd lose you today.”

and in the quiet of the hospital room, you see in front of you the same boy who'd been experimented on, who suffered more than most — and yet he cries, not for himself but for you.

it'll all be okay eventually. for now, though? you simply hold his hand and brush your thumb over it softly, all while whispering apologies and promises of never scaring him like this again.

[rafeslittlepup]

rafe can’t resist you… not even when you’re sleeping

"stop being so touchy," you giggle, slapping his hands away.

rafe just chuckles softly. "hmm, i can’t, fucking look at you" his big arms touch you as he presses his body up against yours. his lips brush against your skin, you can feel his breath on your neck.

he releases you, pouting angrily, saying, "why are you not letting me touch you."

“i’m just a little tired” you sigh as he lets go of you.

"oh, c’mon, bunny," his voice is a mixture of frustration and anger.

"no, i’m- i’m sleepy” you reply.

his face lights up with anger when you turn down his advances.

"i will touch you when you are sleeping if you don't let me touch you."

"don’t- rafe…", you chuckle and give him a death glare.

he laughs ominously. as he speaks, he raises his face directly above yours. "who’s gonna to stop me, huh, you?”

hours later, you are asleep. your body shifts in the sheets as you feel somebody's hands on your body.

rafe’s arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tightly against his muscular chest.

“can't fucking resist you anymore, let me fuck you… just really quick.”

he kisses the back of your neck gently before slowly moving his hands inside your nightgown, exploring your sensitive skin. his erection presses firmly against your backside.

his big hands travel to your breasts, squeezing them gently. your eyebrows frown in sleep. his fingers brush over your nipples, he whispers, "you look so powerless" he grins. “and you’re not even pushing me away���”

carefully, he pushes your nightgown up, you start to slightly twitch.

"shhh.. don’t wake up, keep sleeping."

he reaches down to play with your clit, watching as your breathing gets a bit heavier and your hips buck subconsciously. he slowly pulls your panties off, revealing your wetness.

he groans at your wet cunt before sliding two fingers inside you, stretching you wide. and he cannot resist the urge to thrust deeper.

you stir in sleep as your stomach feels a little weird. and quickly pulls his finger out.

he slowly rubs himself through his boxers, and takes his thick hardness out. “j-just the tip, baby.”

taking a deep breath, he spreads your legs and slowly sinks his tip into you.

you gasp lightly, frowning. he pauses briefly, waiting for your reaction. he goes a little deeper, “fuck, so tight…”

the sensation makes you wake up. he freezes. "rafe?!", using one leg you slightly push him.

"it’s just a dream, baby. go back to sleep,"

"fuckk!" you breath in pain? in pleasure? but you end up giving in "just- just finish fast, alright? i’m tired, rafe…”

so rafe thrusts into you with urgency, hitting your spot.

he kisses your neck desperately. groans, each thrust becomes harder and faster, seconds later, he feels himself coming hard.

"why are you like this", you say, panting a little.

he chuckles, catching his breathe.

“just can’t resist you….”

[beastyeastfreak]

Self Aware! Beasts x human! reader

Link to og post

Cw and tags: Fluff, kinda a crack fic, romantic.

Summary: The beasts have found their way out of the device to meet their partner, little do they know their partner isn’t as small as them.

Written pre silent salt

Mystic flour

🌾 - She had been waiting for the opportunity to escape the confines of the game for a long time. As her ability to break rules and speak to you in various ways came to her, so did the ability to enter your world. She had not let on she could do that for some time, she wanted to ensure she would not crumble or lose her powers as she paid you a visit. Her intentions were to bring you with her, so you could sit at her side and do whatever you did to control the kingdoms at her disposal.

🌾 - The day was finally here, she had ensured everything would go smoothly and you had just opened the game and began speaking to her, moreso complaining about something that had went wrong in your life. She’d look up at you, “I can fix this all for you,” she said which you stopped. She continued to speak, finding a sliver of enjoyment at your reaction. “I will show you,” she sounded ominous which made you frantically start to explain it wasn’t that bad and you weren’t that frustrated.

🌾 - You stopped as that cakehound loading animation played before your phone shut off. You set it down and walk away. As anyone would think, you assumed she was about to come out your phone like the girl from The Ring. But as you watched your phone flicker brightly… you saw a little cookie standing on the screen.

🌾 - “Why is everything so large..?” She spoke and turned to see the giant human she had been speaking to for some time crouched beside the desk looking down at her. You were bigger than expected, she was frankly expecting you to be cookie sized not witch sized.

🌾 - “Aaaaaaaw you’re so smaaaaall~” You croon and pick her up. Cupping your hands under her, she cant help but feel a little shocked that her entire plan of dragging you back to the kingdom and keeping you seemed to have been thwarted. “Is there a purpose to your behaviour?” She asks as you lift her to your face. “Sorry, you’re so tiny! I forget you were like a cookie or whatever,” you respond. “You’re so cute even though you’re so scary! I could just eat you up-“ she stared darkly at you. “Sorry, bad choice of words..”

🌾 - She seemed to get over your statement relatively quickly. Floating to her feet and standing in your palm. She didn’t know how she’d get you in the game with such a difference in size and strength, not to mention you had no flour within you for her to manipulate. But maybe she could find other ways to use you to her benefit, you did seem very witch-like after all…

Burning spice

🏜️ - If there was a barrier, Burning Spice was sure to break it. He was somewhat offended at the notion he was trapped in another prison but once he realised what was happening he knew he had to escape. There was a wall between him and his beloved which made him powerless to turn all your issues to rubble!

🏜️ - You had opened cookie run one day, the first thing you did was say hi to Burning Spice who was standing in an area where your decorations had mysteriously disappeared. He laughed, “your face will be priceless when i inflict my wrath upon your world!” You snickered in a sort of “yeah right” kind of way. He grinned, “do you not believe me? Let me prove it!” He said as your phone began to vibrate making you drop it. You walked away from your phone, now looking for something to defend yourself with as the phone flipped around and flashed its screen.

🏜️ - The screen suddenly sparked and a small red figure jumped out from it, weapon sparkling. “HAHAHA! Kneel before the Great De-“ He was cut off as he looked over at the human, much larger than him, he may have chosen the wrong battle…

🏜️ - You stare in shock for a moment, hoping for dreading a muscular beast towering over you. “Ha! Look at you! A mini destroyer!” You say and walk over, dropping the toy sword you grabbed for self defense. “Do not patronise me! I will crumble you!” He roared but you picked him up, hands wrapped around him watching him squirm. “D’aaaaawwww you’re like a feral kitten~” you coo and pet his head, making his antennae push back. “I am not a pet!”

🏜️ - You giggle, “sorry, i cant help myself,” you say and open your hands letting him stand. “You’d be wise to treat me with respect,” he growls. You grin, “Alright i’ll stop messing with you…” you snicker and continue under your breath, “baby spice…”

Shadow Milk

🃏 - He couldn’t contain himself! Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire cookie thought he had finally lost what minute amount of sanity he had. He knew he looked and sounded insane, Black Sapphire cookie was more curious than worried. “So… Master, i can only assume you have some marvellous plan in the work… which you’ve decided to share with the… sky…” he hesitantly asks with Candy Apple cookie tailing after. Shadow milk cookie grinned and floated over. “Of course! Im going to see my Darling Y/N!” Candy Apple cookie turned red and shouted “WHAT?!”

🃏 - “I’ve never heard of this.. Y/N cookie…” Black sapphire cookie said skeptically. Shadow milk cookie raised an eyebrow then grinned wider. “Ill bring them here… right after a romantic entrance!” He said in a dreamy tone before summoning a black portal and flying into it.

🃏 - You were doing dishes in an empty house, it was dark and you were in a good groove. You were pulled from your work as you heard familiar laughter down the hallway. You frown, you must’ve left Cookie run on. As you turn the faucet off you watch as the light from your bedroom has a tall figure standing in it. “Oh Y/N~! I have come to pay you a visit,” Shadow Milks voice rang through the home. You stood up straight, “that’s impossible!” You say watching the figure move in the light as if looking around, you begin to move through the hallway hesitantly. “And yet here i am! Ready to kiss you silly!” You rather liked that idea, you walked through the door to see a small floating cookie… not a human.

🃏 - You stand shocked, before smirking. “You want to kiss me?” You say and he whips around, face visibly scared. “Ohohoh! You’re much bigger than anticipated! Maybe just a peck on the cheek will suffice?” He tried to hide his fear, probably that they’d eat him. “Oh no, i’ve waited so long for a romantic kiss, you just want to give me a little smooch? That wont do… come here!” You say before jumping forward trapping the cookie in your hands. You press your lips to his face with an audible “mmmmmmwah!” Then let go of him, he transforms into a paper puppet, descending slowly to the floor making small flustered noises.

🌷 - You worked so hard and it hurt that Eternal Sugar cookie couldn’t do anything! So she began to search, and test and finally she cracked the code. She would come to you after another gruelling work day and she would hold you in her arms, carrying you back with her to spend the rest of your life with her in the garden.

🌷 - Soon she did just that, she watched as you opened the app while laying on the couch. Tiredness prevalent in your eyes. You tried to do you tasks first but she wouldn’t allow it, when you went to her she said “You look exhausted! How about i help you relax?~” She says before the game shuts down, your phone shuts down for that matter. You do what you can but it just wont budge. Its only when you tiredly drop on your lap and lean your head back against the pillow, something happens

🌷 - A soft purple mist forms around your phone putting the scent of a perfume like aroma into the air. You look back down, a white pair of sugary wings opens up wafting the mist away. She looks around then sees your face, her head tilting. “How… unexpected,” she seems confused but doesn’t let on any negative emotions. You seem just as confused.

🌷 - Your confusion shifts to adoration, “you’re so pretty.” Sitting up, you hold her in your hands like an injured bird, your hands cupping around her but leaving space for her to see you. She laughs, “how sweet.” Shes a bit scared to say the least, maybe she should have accounted that you were likely not a cookie.

🌷 - “I didn’t expect you to appear like this,” you say running your finger over her wings in a feather light touch. “I almost want to keep you for myself and never let you go back,” you say. Is this how her angels felt about her? She felt honoured and nervous at the same time. “Well… lets not go that far just yet, im here to help you.” She says and flies up to the back of the couch out of your hands. You tilt your head, “help me?” You ask placing a hand over the back of the couch. “Help you relax… your height will not deter me from helping you find happiness.”

[illycanary]

Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident

I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.

For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel. 

We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future. 

And we saw ourselves in Katara. 

Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood. 

Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes. 

Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.

Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?

Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers. 

After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better. 

And do better he does not.

The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.

Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.

Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it. 

Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.

I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.

I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.

[kpluto]

︵‿୨✦・ PAC READING ✦・୧‿︵

ADVICE FOR THE COMING DAYS

Take a deep breath & choose the image that pulls you in. Allow your intuition to guide you & receive messages from your higher self. There may be messages for you in more than one pile. Much love to you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Pile 1 : Strength, Two of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Hermit, & The Fool

You are taking on more than you need to. I see your energy being pulled in multiple different directions. You need to make space for yourself. There is freedom being offered to you, but first must come rest. It is vital along your journey. You are going to need your energy for the new beginning emerging within you. I know that you feel like you may have to do everything. There is burden on your shoulders. However, you are being guided to put the burdens down. Find your inner outlet. Spend time alone. Connect with yourself through dreams, meditations, or simply journaling. You will meet a time of action and direction within the year. It will find you, but only through the rest you put in now.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Pile 2 : The Magician, The High Priestess, Three of Pentacles, Death, & Nine of Cups

Things may be changing around you and within you. Manifestations of the heart are definitely highlighted here. You are much more capable of navigating these changes then you realize. You can expect good things. Most of these changes relate to the relationships that are around you. You may encounter people that connect you to the things that you want. Be open to those that reach out to you. Spirit is advising you to be consistent as possible while these things pan out. You may already have an idea of these changes or you may be moving through them already. Also, you are not alone in what you are experiencing. There may be difficulty in adjusting for you, but you just need time to get used to what is happening. Specifically, the changes within you may feel uncomfortable. Keep going, my doll. Continue doing what you are doing. Don’t give up. And remember to enjoy the things that are going on. You are actually meant to enjoy yourself here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Pile 3 : Queen of Wands, Five of Pentacles, The Magician, Five of Swords, & Eight of Swords

Oh, you are not seeing things clearly. I’m seeing smoke all around you. You have much more going for you than you realize. You want change in your life, very badly. You don’t realize how easy it would be for you to make a move. You just need to make a move. Most of your frustration with life is coming from your inability to see past yourself. Your mind is a very powerful resource. What you feed it is important to making you feel more stable. Your environment may also be negatively affecting you. My darling, you have so much potential. What you desire, desires you, you must believe that. Spirit is suggesting you to seek inspiration and admiration. Imagine having the things that you desire. See what others have and admire them for it, without envy. I know it is easier to find yourself a victim to your circumstances, but there is a passion within you waiting to be explored. You are not powerless.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please like & reblog if this resonates ♡⋆.˚

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I am so glad about your booktube post. Their entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted behavior is something I am frustrated but utterly powerless about.

I am particularly crept out by just how many of them use social justice language to both justify their hatred for everything and everybody out of the norm and make it harder to spot.

The most blatant and most disturbing example I saw for this is someone named crowcaller. If you don't look at the bigger picture and don't know these books it seems like she criticizes sexist, ableist and queerphobic tropes in obscure bad YA books from 2000-2010. Very necessary work, and without context her criticism seem reasonable and rooted in real life problems.

Then she did that with books I had actually read. And oh by did she not just interpret it in the most bad faith possible and completely ignored the Zeitgeist and conventions and history of the genre, she also just. Did not pick up anything but the most obvious plot beats, character motivations and messages, and then got condescending about the book being too shallow and openly cheered on the downfall of this series.

She also constantly presents herself as this fighter for minorities rights, especially disabled peoples rights, but then I caught her talking about a mental health issue she never had and has no experience with as if she 100% knew how this works and how this needs to be portrayed. I know this issue, and what she claims is only something a small part of the community feels. However, it is what aligns with neurotypicals automatic horror about this, so these opinions are the only ones that spread.

After that, everything fell into place. How she writes "I've seen it all" about tumblr, quirkily saying how good she knows this site without being one of *those* tumblr users. How she made her entire career out of mocking books targeted at girls. How she doesn't acknowledge the things that are progressive about these books at all. How she never outright says how teen girls are so silly and stupid and inferior for liking these books, and how [insert ableist slur] people who hyperfixate on uncool things like these are, but it resonates in every video she does.

I am queer and autistic too, and as I was still too naive to spot it, I was so glad that someone like me for once managed to create a platform and be heard. Turns out she could only do that, because unlike me and most other queer autistic people, she is confident to the point of not being able to see just how unqualified she is, and even more, she only says exactly what neurotypicals (and the more assimilated queer autistic people) want to hear.

And I get it, it feels good to think you are superior to those pathetic boy obsessed girls. Which probably makes this such an effective tactic.

I hate how platforms only ever push people like this. And I hate that people like this are able to shape the publics opinion when they have the least skills for that.

I hate how they get away with hiding their loathing behind feminism, or anti-ableism, or queer advocacy while mocking everybody in these groups who doesn't manage to conform.

Now, crowcaller is far from the only Booktuber who uses these tactics. But it struck me particularly much because she as an queer autistic person really should know better than behaving like this. Peak Pick-Me. And also... using your minority identities and progressive beliefs to hide your bigotry behind is just so gross.

And I hate just how little people seem to pick that up.

I'm gonna be real dude I think my nitpicks of various videos and whatever you've got going on specifically with this crowcaller person are like. maybe totally different issues.

I'd also like to point out that re: your first sentence, referring to the entirety of booktube as "entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted" as if every person posting about books on youtube is sone sort of hive mind is exactly the kind of unsubstantiated overgeneralization that I have been dogging on various booktubers for making. I am by no means trying to expose all of booktube as corrupt or innately bad, namely because that's impossible to do for hundreds if not thousands of unaffiliated creatives with wholly different styles and interests.

[asce-of-hearts]

May i please request something where yandere nanami from jjk kidnaps reader and turns them into his little housewife/husband/spouse ?

Housewife

contents: Yandere!Nanami x gn!reader scenario in which they kidnap reader to make them his housewife.

more Nanami content here

A/N: Due to the poll that was held last week, I've decided to change formatting to accomodate readers who find it easier if I used "quotations" to open dialog. Goodbye line —, we'll miss you.

WARNINGS: YANDERE, NON VIOLENT KIDNAPPING, USAGE OF THE WORD WIFE OTHERWISE GENDER NEUTRAL, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, MANIPULATION, DUMBIFICATION I SUPPOSE, SLIGHTLY MYSOGINISTIC IF YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT IT.

"There really is no need, Nanami." You sigh, preparing your coffee. You only stare at the black void that holds the cup, trying not to make eye contact with him.

"There is. I don't want you working." He stands next to you. When you finally resign to look at him the only thing you end up finding is his chest.

If the conversation wasn't so sour, you'd find yourself burying your face in it. Inhaling his scent, he always smells so good.

"You... have no reason to not want me to."

"I have. I have multiple reasons, in fact." He follows you around the kitchen, you can see the veins popping in his arms with the corner of your eye. He's clenching his fists, that's not a threat for you, more of him expressing his evident frustration. "You don't belong in an office, or in a mine, or in an oil rig. You don't belong in the workforce."

"Then where do I belong, Nanami?" You ask him with tired eyes, but he isn't fazed. He stands his ground, you swear he looks taller for a moment.

"Here. In this house." You snort at his comment, amused. Him, on the other hand, is as emotionless as ever, he almost looks annoyed. "I mean it." He takes a step closer, and a warm, calloused hand cups your cheek. He looks tired too, but his touch is tender and sweet and his thumb circles the soft skin of your face.

"Just because I can cook better than you doesn't mean that's the only thing I can do." You answer him, without pulling away from his touch. "I can manage working just fine."

"Then is this the third job you've had this year?" He asks, and you feel your face heat up with embarrassment. "Why do you always complain about the salary? And your coworkers? Why do you complain about it being too hard for you?"

He's doing it on purpose, his words sting and burn. You grit your teeth, shoot him a glare that doesn't faze him. He has this way of making you feel so small at times. So powerless, so dumb.

"I—" you stutter for a moment. "Just... just because."

"You're not built for this, ___." His voice is low and even, it makes you feel even tinier. "You belong inside this house because you're good for other things. You're good at cooking, you're good at cleaning," He leans in closer, you can feel the heat emanating from his body. He whispers in your ear. "You're good at keeping my balls empty."

He presses a kiss at your temple. You freeze in place. It's weird when he talks like that, like he's putting a spell on you.

His hand travels down your arm, the other one cups your hip. His hand engulfs yours as he makes you grab your phone that was resting on the kitchen counter.

"Tell them you're quitting." He whispers again, and you already feel your legs giving out as his voice becomes a sweet murmur, whispered against your skin. "Be good for me... what kind of man would I be letting you work all day?" It almost sounds urgent, the way he's holding you, the way he peppers open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck. "My pretty wife, my only one. Let me take care of you, alright?"

You stay silent, trembling in his arms before nodding. Quickly dialing the phone number.

You're unable to see the wolfish grin on his face as he lets out a pleasured hum, muffled by the skin of your neck.

gRAAAAAHHHH MANIPULATIVE COLD HUSBAND TROPE SSBHJBSHSBASBJK

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

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[hades-in-bloom]

On Nights Like These

Vergil Sparda x Reader

summary: after running away night after night, Vergil finally forgets to leave. Sequel

warnings & contents: fluff with a teeny-tiny assumption of spice happening behind the scenes; seriously, mostly cuddling; Vergil is—well—vergiling (this man be blessed); turned out more poetic than I thought it would; could be age gap, could be none; the reader could be any gender; emotionally mature reader though; no mentions of y/n

a/n: h-hi! It’s been a while. I got myself into writing an actual book, so that’s been happening (aside from other life stuff). In the meantime this silly man has been making me lose my mind, so I had to come back, even for a blurb. As always, proceed at your own risk. Love y’all. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

***

Vergil never stays the night.

He’s already irritated enough for that he feels compelled to come over again. The long-buried sensation of another's touch sends his mind into a frenzy; at first, he resents it, feeling as though he’s losing control. It gnaws at him from within, breaking through the iron-clad defences he’s built for himself since he was a kid.

He’s a survivor, and then he’s the Alpha and the Omega. He was there at the beginning, and he will be there at the end, no matter the cost.

He’s so accustomed to being haunted for decades, whether it’s his past or ambitions, so when you offer him a safe haven in your embrace, his brain short-circuits. It feels both wrong and sweet, like forbidden fruit. He’s been alone for so long, consumed by his feral pursuit of power, so the only true horror for him is the one of depending on anyone but himself. He knows that your touch could shatter every belief he clings to, yet he reaches for it anyway, surrendering to the overwhelming urge to connect and explore.

On nights like these, he lies beside you, a mix of vulnerability and yearning in his eyes, resorting to desperate measures to reclaim his power when all else feels futile.

On nights like these, his touch is rough and demanding—his way of asserting control over you when he feels utterly powerless. He’s lost and frustrated, and it shows in every movement, in the way he touches you, worships you, and uses you.

You are weak—in his eyes, just a human with all the needs and desires he has tried to cast aside over the years. He’s better than that. He’s better than you.

Yet while he sees you as weak, in his eyes, you are far from powerless. The influence you have over him drives him mad, and time and again, he succumbs while punishing you both for the vulnerabilities you share.

On nights like these, he takes so much from you, but it doesn’t bother you—he gives in return plenty.

And then, on nights like these, he runs. As soon as you fall asleep, he slips away, leaving you to awaken in an empty bed. You never know when he’ll return, yet deep down, you know he will—sooner or later.

Until, on one of those nights, he forgets to leave at all. When you wake at dawn, his head rests on your chest, and his breathing is steady and calm. One of his arms curls around your waist, and in that moment, he looks almost angelic despite his demon blood. It makes you uneasy; you’ve never seen him so trusting before. For a brief second, it’s your mind that is plagued with the thought of running.

He shifts in his slumber, as if your thoughts of abandoning him have disturbed his nightmares. A frown creases his brow as he barely opens his eyes. Then his eyes widen in fear as he realises what he's done.

He’s succumbed. He always knew you would be his ruin, and now it has happened—tonight.

Tonight, you gently brush your fingers through his hair, keeping his head resting on your chest. Tonight, no one is running away.

“Sleep, Vergil,” you whisper. It’s not an ask—an order. A clear-cut command despite your gentle touch and voice. A faint smile graces your lips as you close your eyes, drifting back into blissful dream of your own.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you give him a promise.

He scoffs, but chooses not to protest as he closes his eyes once more. Tonight, he’s weary from running; tonight, he succumbs.

[remina-mina]

Twst Yuu Theory: Magic as Desire

We got a lot of information from the chapter 12 update so I feel like we can finally have a grasp on Yuu and their future role in the story. Honestly this is practically a crack theory but I feel like there is something there. So throughout the story we have had glimpses of Yuu's insecurities, especially in Book 6 when we lost Grim and couldn't help Ace or Deuce in battle. Its been established that Yuu sees themself as useless and powerless and feels frustration at the fact that they cannot do anything but be protected in battle.

This comes up again in this update but I think its on purpose that Yuu's frustration at being useless mirrors Ace's and the other freshman before they unlock their unique magic. It feels like Twst is creating these parallels on purpose to lay the groundwork for Yuu to have an important role as a 'trump card' in the future (book 8 maybe) just like Deuce was in Book 5 and Ace in this update.

I'm hesitate to say something wild like Yuu will develop a unique magic, however I do think that Yuu will have a role that only they can fulfill possibly because they don't have magic.

Or maybe they will temporarily gain the ability to use magic because as established in this chapter update magic in its ancient form was miracles born out of people's deep desires such as wishing to fly or heal. Following that logic then maybe Yuu will be able to harness the oldest and original form of magic simply through their deep desires.

Also in the Chapter 12 update Leona offhandedly mentions that the dark mirror's criteria for choosing mages is vague but without a doubt everyone chosen to go to NRC has what it takes to make their mark on history. All these lore drops makes me sure that something will be happening sooner or later.

Honestly I hope in Book 8 (if that really does end up existing someplace that isn't my hopes and dreams) we explore Ramshackle's history because it seems special that the dorm has strong ties to other worlds. Considering that they straight up have a mirror that connects to other worlds where we see Mickey and whenever we get snippits of the old disney movies it also is through that mirror it feels important. Maybe we will learn about Skully and how he possibly was a Ramshackle student in his time at NRC.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Platonic yandere Rhaenyra as your mother...

~ The moment she laid eyes upon you, she helplessly fell in love. All the anger and shock towards Daemon took a backseat to her emotions the moment she saw you- her breath stuttering in her throat as her own amethyst eyes settled upon the wailing girl in the mad prince's arms. No woman is keen upon the idea of their other half returning with a child that they've had behind their back, but the sight of a girl- a daughter, for her, settled her decision at once. It's unlikely for her to take out her frustrations out on you, and something about your tearful little face and upset cries for your mother made her want to take you into her arms at once to soothe you. She didn't care at all about you being a bastard, all she could see was a daughter. Hers.

~ Rhaenyra would spoil you. Gifting you dresses and jewellery and books and fine silk threads, and always wearing an adoring twinkle in her eyes whenever she sees you. Rhaenyra herself loves her precious gems and fine luxurious dresses, and now with her own little girl, you bet you're getting spoiled. She'd also love seeing her dear boys get along with you, further fueling her delusions that you're her own child. She'll call her 'my dearest love' and 'sweet girl' , a cautious protective arm always within reaching distance of you if things get heated at the dining table during rowdy family dinners.

~ she's often the one to smoothe your anger and sadness over when it comes to your conflict with Daemon, your father. He is always the one to dish out punishments and restrictions, and in his stead, she'll be the one to lather you with comfort and alternatives. As a child she'd carry you in her arms, wiping away your tearfulness and promising you a ride with Syrax after Daemon forbids you from riding your own dragon for a week. That dynamic fits well with them. Essentially, Daemon is The bad cop, and she is the good cop.

~ as a child, you were very against this woman mothering you when you missed your one mother at home. However you may eventually grow soft to Rhaenyra, even if it's unintentionally done. She's so attentive and gentle towards you, it's hard not to seek out her comfort- even if most of it is dismissive and performative to keep you calm. She'd happily braid your hair if you wish to go riding upon horse or dragon-back, and always with a smile upon her face.

~ Rhaenyra soothing you whenever you fights with her father, Daemon. She is firm, but gentle, the perfect salve to Daemons cruelty and coldness. He has always stood strong and confident, and the powerlessness you'd feel around him would both infuriate you, and make you feel hopeless. Rhaenyra is always there for the aftermath, to distract you from the sadness brewing in your chest. Squeezing your hand beneath the table as you all eat your meals together, your presence always insisted upon by Viserys and Daemon.

~ she'd be a fiercely protective mother. As you grow older, transitioning from her little girl to a young woman, she'd be very against any arranged marriages. If she could, she'd keep you at home forever, single and happy- or free to love whoever you like as long as they are approved by her and Daemon and that you remain at home with them.

Thankfully, due to your bastard heritage, you have no political duty to marry, and are therefore free from being wed for gain. (Sure, you'll never seat the iron throne, but as a woman in those times everything was cut-throat. You may as well have a taste of freedom)

~ Syrax is just as doting. You're her riders little girl, and that maternal feeling would come through both Rhaenary, and syrax. The large golden dragon will chirp and purr in your presence, bowing her head to sniff and gently prod at you- like a doting mother.

"Darling, are you joining us for lunch?"

"For the afternoon".

Rhae smiled warmly, watching you pet Syrax- who gazed upon the princess with passive golden eyes. Crooning gently into your touch, before retreating softly. Rhaenyra approaches soon after- peeling her riding gloves off before taking your face within the cradle of your palms and kissing your brow. 1...2...3, a mantra of soft kisses laid upon your face before she steps back to look at you. Her smile is genuine and warm.

~ As the dance of the dragon approaches, the more protective and demanding she becomes. Suddenly your dragon riding time is limited, especially after Luke's death :( the moment you even suggested leaving upon dragon-back to get some fresh air in the clouds she snaps almost tearfully, composing herself shortly afterwards, and then sending you outside upon the balcony with a guard. A pleading look in her eyes begging you not to disobey her, for her sake, please. She cannot lose you as well.

~ She becomes especially paranoid about team green snatching you away, as both teams are obsessed with keeping you on their sides amidst the approach of war. The amount of kingsguard that stand position outside your chambers every night, hell, even accompanying you around the castle increases. You seldom have a moment to yourself without a lady in waiting heel-to-heel with you, or a towering armoured knight breathing down your neck.

Even with Daemon gone, you're still trapped within the castle.

~ Bastard!princess reader wants nothing to do with this war, and although she may have created a connection to Rhaenyra and Jace and her twin sisters, she may see this as an opportunity to finally leave. Escape would be difficult, near impossible, but not out of the question. You still have your dragon at your call, so you may find a way to slip away and find a way to get to your dragon to escape.

Everyone would go mad however, almost putting a pause on the conflict to go out and find you. Be warned that Daemon and Rhaenyra would immediately go seek your hometown and mother and brothers (that is, if they are still alive), so you'd have to be smart with slipping from their grasps.

~ To the end Rhaenyra will hold onto you dearly like her life-line, committed to being your mother, regardless of your feelings or circumstance. Even as she is burnt, she will not cry or scream- only thinking of everything that she has lost. How she failed you, and everyone she ever held close.

(under the scenario that in the end you did leave and vanish, or worse, got killed in the conflict).

[daemonsversion]

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

[alltimefail]

Random thought that could could absolutely be nothing, an over-analyzation of sorts even, but I have always found it interesting that in the Devlin house episode Charles gets sucked into the loop starting from the point he snaps at Edwin about him "Not being the all-knowing expert on all things." It's especially interesting to me because after he does so, Edwin tells Charles that he's "...Not acting like himself at all."

In theory, Charles could have just reappeared when Mr. Devlin turns the corner or when he approaches Mr. Devlin here:

because if the point of repetition here is to show us that the abuse Charles suffered at the hands of his own father is what causes him to get trapped in the loop, either of those moments would have been sufficient in supporting that idea. The dialogue shared beforehand between him and Edwin has little to do with the point at hand...unless...

Charles feeling pain about his own father isn't the whole sum of why he gets trapped in the loop; his fear that he's just LIKE his father, that he's not a good person, that he's "Cruel for the shits," and capable of hurting the people he loves (and thus undeserving of their love) is also what traps him in the loop, and that's why his "loop" starts with him snapping at Edwin.

Even though we as viewers can empathize with and understand why Charles snaps at Edwin given the circumstances, it's very unlikely that Charles extends that same grace to himself. I would argue that we see the multi-faceted layers of his trauma explored in various ways from this moment on. Charles himself even later admits that all he feels is anger despite the fact that he wants to be "a good guy." Charles has yet to understand that it's possible to be good and feel anger, that anger in and of itself is not bad, and that feeling strong negative emotions like grief or anger does not make a person dangerous or abusive like his father was...nor does it guarantee that he would use his anger to harm others. So, with that in mind, of course Charles' loop would start with him lashing out at Edwin, as opposed to it just starting with him lashing out at Brandon Devlin; it's not just about feeling powerless to stop the abuse, it's about feeling like you play a role in it. It's about the deep-rooted fear that maybe you actually deserved the abuse you suffered because you are not good, and just by being related to an abuser you are damned to be just like them, or worse. Charles worries about who he truly is, deep down, and that maybe Edwin is wrong when he says that Charles isn't acting like himself: maybe the darkest parts that he works so hard to bury are actually who he truly is, and his ability to throw careless, harmful, biting words at someone he loves deeper than anyone else may be a reflection of this. After all, his father loved his mother, he loved Charles, and look what he did to them... how he hurt them beyond repair. What if he is the same?

OR: the trauma Charles deals with isn't only the violence his father enacted on him (shown through what Brandon Devlin does to his family), but it's also the violence he feels capable of enacting himself (shown through his ability to throw harsh words toward Edwin who Charles openly claims is the "most important person in the world" to him).

What furthered this idea even more for me (and added a bit of salt to the wound frankly) was Crystal and Edwin's reactions to Charles being pulled into the loop. Out of shock, confusion, and frustration Crystal immediately turns to Edwin for answers but for a moment he is just frantic and uncharacteristically frazzled, only able to say, "Charles was right, I don't know everything..." and OUCH, right? But it emphasizes that 1) what Charles said to Edwin was quite hurtful, 2) that it did have an (unintentional) impact on Edwin, and 3) that Charles himself very well might have realized it was hurtful as soon as it left his mouth thus, again, why it would make sense that his loop began there.

It takes a strong emotional reaction to be pulled into a loop; the possibly that this moment was written to work on two levels of Charles' inner turmoil is quite clever (and extremely heartbreaking).

Again, it could absolutely be nothing... but it's worth pondering!!