#it is so difficult to pity a rapist

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Whatever criticisms levied at Alicent Hightower may be, her protectiveness and empathy for women is one of her defining traits. She actively subverts the “Mother protecting her rapist son” trope (and also a real-life phenomenon) in a way that is believable and serves as a foil to Cersei Lannister.

Imagine being the most powerful woman in the land by title and rank, but you have no ability to outright prevent or stop women and girls from being exploited and abused by the men around you. She is the goddamn Queen, but it’s not like she can imprison her own son, it’s not like she can castrate him or maim him or kill him like we so wish we could do to rapists like him. He’s a Prince, for fuck’s sake. How are you going to fix a young man who is wayward and seeks out empty hedonism with total disregard for his health or the well-being of others? Viserys disregarding him, his own inferiority complex, and Alicent’s terrible treatment of him don’t help, of course, but that is still no excuse for him sexually assaulting women and girls.

You know how heart-aching that kitchen scene was? Imagine you’re some regular maid. A nameless face working in the palace. You’re violently assaulted by the future heir of the Seven Kingdoms. He’s a Prince, you can’t outright refuse, you have no place to refuse or to fight back. You can’t strike him, you can’t rely on guards to help you. He cares not if he impregnates you.

It’s a nightmare, it’s a living nightmare, and then you learn that the Queen herself has learned of what’s transpired, and she wants to speak with you about it.

This is medieval fantasy, so we know what the dynamics are here. Rape is a crime, but rape of a commoner by a noble is considered poor taste but depending on the honor of the noble’s family, they could just shrug and move on. Considering this is the royal family, accusations like this won’t get you anywhere if you don’t have someone in the family vouching for its wrongness and a position that will lead to consequences.

Not to mention this is a patriarchy, and despite the uneven gender dynamics, mothers will often defend and apologize for their scumbag sons, being that he is male and their child. It’s poisonous cognitive dissonance. Not to mention that, again, this is the PRINCE we’re talking about, and a Prince whose inheritance to the throne is being whispered and murmured about as possibly not being affirmed by the King because the King has eyes for his eldest daughter instead.

But Alicent personally meets the serving girl who was assaulted, and she asks what happened. The girl is understandably terrified, not because Aegon threatened to hurt her if she told, but out of fear of not being believed it was out of the blue, that she will be punished or shamed for ‘allowing’ it to happen to her, that she will be punished and sent away for possibly carrying a bastard, that she will be punished for daring to accuse the Prince, her eldest son, of such a crime.

But what does Alicent do? She listens, and she hugs the girl, and she apologizes for what has happened. Can you imagine being some little mouse of a maid, an absolute nobody, and being embraced by the Queen? The Queen! And then the Queen giving you an apology for the harm inflicted upon you by who by all rights should be and is the most important man in her life besides the King? Royalty never apologizes to commoners. To apologize is to admit fault, to admit fault is to be faulty, to be faulty is to lower yourself as less than all-powerful.

Alicent shed her Queen mantle in that moment and spoke to that girl like a person, like a woman to another young woman, both living in a world surrounded by men that take liberties without permission, without care or consideration, without remorse. And there is rarely if ever any justice. Crimes inflicted on women are made invisible simply due to the status of the man committing them. But Alicent sees. And the guilt she holds in her heart of having birthed and raised a monster that hurts women and girls haunts her to no end. She cannot do anything about it. She cannot force Aegon to stop because what he does, he supposedly does out of some pain of being less than worthy in the eyes of his mother and father.

Alicent does another kindness to the girl, but also a pragmatic strategic one, by advising the girl to not repeat the story to anyone else. While this does keep Aegon’s record cleaner than if the girl did tell (and thus obscures Aegon’s ill-fittedness for the Throne a little longer), Alicent is absolutely correct when she tells the maid that people will think that she was at fault for being assaulted, or that what happened was an attempt at seduction gone sour. Alicent does not want such a thing to haunt her, because in this world a woman’s reputation is the only thing that separates her from death in many cases. She would be branded a liar at best or killed, or else relegated to making a living as a prostitute because no lady of a house is going to hire a girl suspected of ‘indiscriminately wooing men’. It is an injustice of the highest order, but Alicent cannot protect the girl if she talks. She would be overruled by the male powers that uphold and enforce such a virginity=virtuous=trustworthy=valuable-obsessed culture.

In a final act of kindness, Alicent gives the maid Plan B in the form of a tea to prevent/abort pregnancy. It is another pragmatic solution (don’t want bastards running around), but it is also a gift, because single motherhood in that day and age is also a one-way trip to prostitution. No girl deserves to have her life so irrevocably ruined due to the sins committed by another.

Alicent does not let her desire for Aegon to have the throne, and thus ensuring the protection of her family, blind her to the evils her son has committed. She cannot do much in her position, not what she wishes to (which most certainly involves some involuntary surgery of the genitals), and it hurts her so deeply that this is the case, that in a way she created this monster of a man that would and has hurt women and continues to do so despite her clear and repeated denunciation of it and of him.

As a mother, she loves her son. As a woman, she hates the man that he is and what he represents—male power recklessly inflicted upon the defenseless. Alicent was never a starry-eyed romantic in the way young Sansa Stark was, but as a woman her understanding of duty is “doing what is expected and best for the kingdom”. What is best for the kingdom is peace, and part of peace is protection of the defenseless, and women are some of the most defenseless. That the product of her duty—a son by Viserys to ensure a smooth transition of father-son inheritance of the crown and peace throughout the lands—is waging his small campaign of terror upon the serving girls in the Red Keep and wherever else he may slink off to, is nothing short of horrifying. Her love for Aegon will always be tempered by a revulsion for what he has done. She cannot lie to herself.

She will protect Aegon, but she will never accept that part of him. She will never forgive that part of him. She will never defend that part of him. She loves him, but she detests him as a person.

For this scene alone, Alicent is a real one.

[very-straight-blog]

Yeah you're right, there is no doubt that alicent love her children but she has some serious problems to express it. I do not blame alicent, her situation was difficult, but she created great problems in aegon's emotional growth in my opinion. In all the scene where aegon and alicent are together (teen aegon and then adult aegon) she is yelling at him or slapping him even when he did no wrong like at the driftmark episode. I honestly think that both of his parents failed him, for different reasons (viserys didn't care and alicent didn't know how to express love/needed some guide in her motherhood) but the outcome is the same: he felt unloved by both of his parents. Tgc in an interview said that aegon believe all of his family hated him. Im sure that if he grown up with two loving parents he would have been different, not a rapist or drunken. Im so sorry for him, he did terrible things yes but he was only an innocent child, imagine growing up thinking that your family hate you, even when he said "I tried so hard but it will never be enough for you or father". I can't help but feel pity for him

Yes, I suppose Aegon has felt alienated from his family since childhood - this is obvious both from the series itself and from Tom's interviews. However, I blame Viserys much more for this. Getting married for the second time and having more children was his conscious choice, while Alicent was a victim of circumstances. As for any physical abuse, we were shown only two similar episodes in the entire series and both of them happened for a reason. The first was in Driftmark, when Alicent was on the verge of a nervous breakdown due to the fact that Aemond was maimed. The second was when Aegon r*ped Dyana. There's no reason to believe that physical abuse was something normal in relation to Aegon. The main problem was rather the lack of open expressions of love. As a result, we got a character with an unstable nervous system, depression, alcoholism and, in general, a craving for self-destruction.

[darklinaforever]

Yall actually trying so hard lmao it's hilarious at this point. Here im just chilling waiting to see you desperately sobbing when Daemon will cheat on Rhaenyra cause if you wouldn't be that much obsessed with the ship, you would understand that Daemon's arc is literally setting up to cheat. In S1 it's pretty much clear sleeping around, is his nature. Oh no wait, right, i forgot that you're the one romanticizing grooming so that's why you see that as act of love...Ok Ryan will soon wake you up, don't worry 😉

Oh ! Another idiot who doesn't know the definition of grooming and the terms historical context, all while thinking he is morally superior, and who stupidly mixes the canon of the book and the canon of the show ! Refusing to understand that the two are not the same thing and that I don't care what happens there because it's already slammed to the ground with the characters and events of Fire and Blood ? (As I said in another post, you the antis, are content to stupidly repeat the same stupid arguments that we have already royally dismantled, yet you continue to act like parrots. You are really pitiful by force) It's not me who lacks maturity. It's you who wrote this kind of stupidity without having the balls to take responsibility for your words. Also, I never denied that the writers of the series were capable of writing a scenario where Daemon cheats on Rhaenyra. In fact, they're so stupid that they can do it. We are talking about the same people who defend Aegon II the rapist and the greens team in general. They're stupid, of course they can make stupid decisions. Have I literally said it before ? On the other hand, what else I pointed out and how difficult it seems to you to understand is that the canon of the show will never impact the canon of the book. GRRM himself said that it were two different things, and whether you like it or not, in the book there is no real evidence for this so-called cheating that Daemon allegedly did towards Rhaenyra. And I think it's this eternal uncertainty that drives you crazy. Also, for a man who apparently all of season 1 has been preparing him to be a future cheater for season 2, it's a bit stupid that we've never actually seen him cheat and in reality seemingly faithful to every woman he's been with in couple in a consensual manner. Wow. What an incredible set up indeed.

[squadrah]

So how did your doctor OC respond to la squadras' deaths and did they choose to continue working in Passione under Giorno or did they choose to leave!! Thank you!!! I am just full of questions

First of all, bless you for asking about my OC whom I really need to draw sometime along with her Stand - there is actually a CuriousCat post on that, and I cannot remember if I have posted it here or not!

But whether I have or haven't, I'll give a quick background first to put her into perspective within Passione: after watching all of Vento Aureo, I decided that the one uh, "doctor" we saw should probably not be the only medical professional available to the magical mafia, so I revamped an old but reliable OC of mine from a way different fandom and era to have a little mafia clinic where members of the gang can come to have their injuries treated or to get medication that might otherwise be difficult to obtain. Dr. Rattoppo is not actually a doctor per se - she had been trained as a veterinarian before she was sentenced to prison for castrating a rapist at the vet, and because word got round, she was offered the lighter test and passed it, which gave her the ability to treat injuries and produce medication.

I have not written any fics yet that feature her, but she's in the back of my mind as this one medical professional that La Squadra can also go to if they need a full patching up or anything like hormones, which trans members would be able to get from her clinic. Like the Hitman Team, she is also financed directly by the Boss, but at least she has fewer people to look out for (her staff is basically a couple of street urchins who help maintain the clinic) and lives comfortably as a civilian, which our assassin friends cannot do.

Given the above, Dr. Rattoppo would have been familiar with every single member of La Squadra, and their deaths would have been a shock to her, though not wholly unexpected. She probably heard of how Sorbet and Gelato had died and pitied the others for their loss, but with two years going by, she was almost convinced things would largely stay the same until Giorno paid her a visit to let her know the aftermath...

I feel like Dr. Rattoppo didn't think twice about staying regardless; she knows deep inside that this is her place in life now and that mafia members depend on her for surviving anything rough, as do a number of people who have difficulties getting what they need. If she had shown any reluctance, I think there would have been plenty of testimonies to go around that her work was important enough that people would rather subject themselves to her Stand than to Gold Experience, ahaha.

May she appear in a fic someday! I have at least two ideas that involve her, I just... life can sometimes get ahead of me, you know?

[uj453]

the black box... 

6/1/2020 

0 Comments 

the holiday season here in europe, or i can say at least in Vienna, is weird. Everything gets shut. Even institutions! It is crazy how well lapped up this idea of christmas is here. And the city really does slow down. These are anyway extremely isolating times, extremely divisive times, and writhin all of that, being in europe can be even more isolating. And the rhythm and flow of my work was completely screwed up by these holiday shutdowns. And on the christmas eve, when there s not much else to do, the filmmuseum was screening the wizard of oz. Had never seen it, but as even the person at the ticket booth told me, it was the highest ticket sale for the year. And a different bunch all together than usual screenings. Families, couples, kids, youngsters, and all having a ball over the screening. The air was so different. And yet again, on yet another day, being in the black box with a single light ray illuminating the screening, hidden, and invisibilised had saved the day for me. The next day they were screening Blazing Saddles, and I have never really seen a Western. Maybe if you consider Ramesh Sippy’s Sholay a western, which it at least partly is, then I have seen one, but apart from that, not really. 

Anyway, there I was again messing up time and schedule and reaching much before the screening time. Had a beer at the filmmuseum bar, and got set for this ‘western’. Turned out to be not so much of a western after all. A lady at the bar who had read the synopsis told me that this was going to be a parody apparently. She liked my hair apparently, so maybe her judgement couldn’t really be trusted and later she would help me look for my tobacco pouch and not finding that, offer me a cigarette. The beauty of all that connects us within this box. The only reason she had come to see the film was that she had seen films as a kid with horses in it. She had been crossing the filmmuseum and saw that there was a film with horses and voila. 

The film was hardly a western, but did have horses. Somehow it probably was only possible on screen and that too only in a parody that a black man was being made a sheriff of a white only town. Of course the population of the town is ready to shoot him down but is only stopped by the black man himself threatening to shoot the black guy, and that act of bi-polarity, is the only point which triggers all the whites of the town to see that it was actually a human being - who might actually be killed, and by no other than this black person! The connection with germany is also interesting. The German seductress gets herself seduced by the seXual appeal of the black sheriff, and of course there is the mention of how big his thing was. And it was amazing how Mel Brooks was breaking the illusion of cinema. The villain in his height of villainy and before proclaiming the hiring of villains for destroying the aforementioned town actually says ‘there goes my chance of Academy award for supporting actor’. In the most crazy of queues of villains ready to join in the militia to destroy the town - rapists, robbers, murderers, German soldiers, the klan, you name it, and the black sheriff tries to infiltritate the militia, by pretending to be a klansman! 

There was this group of three young people who were sitting in front of me, and they were really loving it. The parody really had them in tickles and quite a few of the audience members. It had me amazed as to how the same struggles continues, and how talking about the same things even decades later is so difficult. It is a pity that we can talk about the other, others than the majorities can be talked about/with only on the screen. In life, more and more so it is becoming more and more difficult to. It is crazy how majoritarianism is such a driving force now, and the situation is becoming so isolating. The only ones we can have connection with are people we laugh with in the black box? Or of going for a film because it has horses in? 

While the society here can be extremely isolating. But with all the things happening in India it is even much more so. It is bizarre how driven these guys are towards the idea of the Hindu state. It’s almost like by 2024 the target is to just reduce the overall voter base to contain it only to their supporters. That s another way to win elections, I guess, just get rid of all the others, of all the dissenters, of all the opposers, of all the oppressed, of all the disenfranchised and then rule with the oppressors, and be with the privileged and govern not just for them but with them, and make sure the structure isn’t questioned and even looked at. Somehow anything and everything is fine under the garb of Hinduism. Also because somehow these guys are the whole sole agents of Hinduism who can define what Hinduism is. And their idea of Hinduism, like most right - in most countries, is so narrow, so limited. These are intensely isolating times, these are intensely dividing times. So much so, that even so many of those protesting against CAA (kudos to them) wouldn’t care so much about the repealing of 370. 

I had asked Saeed Akhtar Mirza, as to what does one do, how does one react, or positions oneself, when a disenfranchised community is not even ready to connect with another. Not that there was a hope of a positive optimist response, but the response that we can’t articulate political positions till the acts have been done, and the results of the same had, was quite heartbreaking. It is important to be able to protect oneself, and so on also, but if we don’t talk about things in anticipation, then... then yes, the disenfranchised and many of them will lose their lives, their identities, and so on.

Is all of this, in a larger scheme of things, just elements being prepared for another parody to be done eventually? It is such a crazy time for stand up comedians with Trump, with Boris Johnson and so on. But eventually one wonders who the joke is on - them or us? Indian political situation is far more graver - it is far more difficult to make fun of characters like Adityanath, Pragya Singh Thakur or even Modi or Shah. Maybe we will find our way to do that, but by the time that position is articulated, one wonders what all will be or will have to be lost... Until then, the only recluse seems to be in this black box, nicely invisibilising, and at least with that one ray of light hitting the screen reflecting back on us, connects us all somehow. These are the connections that are probably the only ones that we might have remaining. It is of course telling of the times we are in, that we can only connect with people when we can’t really see them, and only in the act of seeing something else (on the screen) is where we have any sense of camaraderie. Regardless, we probably need to value them and respect what we do have. 

[lexxiisstuff]

Hii may i request Kisaki Angst, where we had an argument before he went to mission then when he comeback reader died, mybe bcs his enemies attack the reader like tht...n lol regretful kisaki shshshs thank youuu btw i really enjoy your hanma storyy hv a good day

this hurt to write omg. Kisaki loml😭. Alsooo my first request ever btw so yay I'm really excited I hope you enjoy it <3 ( Also I'm sorry it's super short I have tons of assignments left and I'm trying to pace myself lol)

Warnings: swearing, death, fem reader

*************

𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒋𝒊

"Just stop for fucks sake!" Keisuke turned to glare at you and you winced. The two of you had been arguing for days and somehow still, neither one had felt like there had been any break through "God don't you have an off switch."

"Stop being such an asshole then Baji! I apologized more than once for coming to the warehouse! I know I'm not allowed there, but can you blame me, you've been acting different! You haven't been talking to me for weeks! I needed to know if something happened" You ended sadly. The only reason you went to that stupid hideout was to see if you could get some answers as to why your boyfriend had been so down and instead he'd seen you, grabbed your arm and dragged you out before you could talk to anyone.

"If something did happen it's none of your godamn business" He hissed. He knew he was being difficult but he didn't care. He couldn't care.

"How can you say that? How could you possibly say that after all the shit we've been through. All the shit you put me through. What the hell is going on with you?" You hated the tears that welled in your eyes. They made you feel pathetic. Weak.

"You. You're what's wrong with me. Save the pity party for later I have places to be" He grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door of the apartment you shared.

"Keisuke. Wait. Please just don't go yet. Please" You couldn't help it. You knew whenever he walked out that door there was always a 50/50 chance he'd never come back "I'm sorry. I'm sorry okay. Don't leave angry. Just stay a minute"

"I don't have a minute. I especially don't have a minute to deal with whatever your problem is. I'll see you later" He heard your quiet sniffle and felt his heart tug.

"Okay I love you" You said it softly but he heard it and he promised later he'd make it up to you for not saying it back as he shut the door. You felt your heart dropped. He never ignored your I love yous . He'd never been able too and it that moment you felt the last of your hope deteriorate.

"Why don't you just tell her?" Chifuyu muttered. Baji had been in a mood the whole mission, he wasn't concentrating, barely present and had a permanent scowl etched on his features. They were just lucky he'd succeeded in doing what he had to do but Chifuyu had enough of his friends bitter moods.

"Because she doesn't need to know" How could he tell you that a month ago he'd accidentally killed an innocent. A girl who was your age, who had your hair color, your eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Keisuke. She was collateral. She jumped in front of the boy you were supposed to kill" Chifuyu put a hand on the dark haired man.

"It was her brother" He said angrily.

"Who was a renowned drug dealer, rapist and all round terrible fucking person. She chose to die for him. Leave it at that. Tell y/n. The whole story. Before you lose her because of your stupid actions"

"Keisuke" Baji watched curiously and anxiously as his friend Kazutora stood silently in front of the apartment building.

"What are you doing here?" Kazutora frowned not knowing what to say.

"Baji listen to me I need you to sit down" Baji tensed. A chill sliding down his spine. Something wasn't right and unease curled around him like a blanket.

"What happened? Where's y/n? Is she okay?" He attempted to enter the building but Kazutora held him back shaking his head lightly.

"Keisuke there was an incident" Kazutora said softly "Some guys got into your apartment. Y/n was home. There were guns involved, man. She.. She didn't make it"

She. Didn't. Make. It "That's not fucking funny Kazutora. Move. Now. Before I make you"

His friend hesitantly took a step back and glanced at Chifuyu anxiously. Baji bounded up the stairs. His stomach clenching at the sight of the familiar apartment door. The handle broken. Mikey stood at the entrance.

"Where the fuck is my girlfriend? If this is some joke you, Kazutora and y/n are playing its fucking cruel. Tell her to come out. Right now"

"Baji. I'm sorry. I wish it was, man. Fuck I really wish it was. Four bullets to the chest. One to the arm. She couldn't have survived it. Some of the guys heard the gunshots. Alerted me and Draken. We knew this was your area, wanted to check things out but when we got here she was already gone. I'm sorry"

He couldn't breath. He shook his head repeatedly "No no no" He tried to enter the apartment, Mikey grabbed his arm.

"Don't put yourself through that. It's not a sight you want to live with"

"Don't fucking touch me" The apartment felt cold. Empty. Lifeless. His heart caught at the sight body in the middle of the room covered in a sheet he knew belonged on the bed. The bed the two of you shared. With trembling fingers he knelt down and carefully lifted the sheet and all of a sudden it was too much.

Grief washed over him in waves and he couldn't help the small sob that got stuck in his throat. "Y/n? No. Baby no. No no no. What happened? Fuck. Fuck I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Oh God please. Please."

He cupped your cheeks and sobbed harder at how cold they were. And soon it wasn't only grief that washed over him but memories. Memories of you laughing at the lame pick up jokes he told you . Of you interlocking your fingers with his whenever you were in public. Of you snuggling in his lap whenever you were sad or stressed. Of you kissing away his worries.

"I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'm sorry I didn't say it back earlier. I'm sorry, I was a godamn idiot. But you knew right, pretty girl? You knew I love you" He cried into your hair. Shuddering at how still you were

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live in a world where you didn't exist. He felt something inside him break. It could only be his heart. He heard the crack, felt the life inside him leave him slowly, almost like his soul was following yours.

"You can't go sweetheart. You promised to marry me" He wiped his tears but he couldn't help how hoarse he sounded "You're too young. You have too much ahead of you. Much more than the likes of me. God. Thank you for fucking choosing me though"

The last words he said to you rang through his mind over and over again "I don't have a minute. I especially don't have a minute to deal with whatever your problem is. I'll see you later" Fuck. Fuck. He felt like he was on fire. Like he was being suffocated by guilt, grief and anger simultaneously.

"Keisuke Come on. Come on" Kazutora grabbed him dragging him away from your lifeless form.

"She probably hated me Keisuke" He sobbed into his friends chest " She died not knowing I loved her. Not knowing because I decided to be a fucking asshole and not tell her"

"She knew man. She knew."

"It should have been me" Keisuke whispered softly "It should never have been her"

"It shouldn't have been either of you" Kazutora said vehemently "We'll find the fuckers that did this"

"I know. Because I won't die until I do" He would find them. He'd avenge you. Make those bastards suffer. And then he'd regret this day. Regret the choices he made because somehow he knew he was just as responsible.

[abeautifulblog]

gremble watches a hexer: episode 3

So this is the episode in which Geralt meets Renfri, and the vibes are very different from TWN.

It really changes their dynamic to have him be brand new on the Path, and for Renfri to be, in essence, his first extended interaction with a human. He's still trying to figure out what humans are like, he clearly wants to be able to put people in neat boxes -- but there's Renfri complicating the narrative by being undeniably a victim, but also eager and willing to immediately turn around and become a villain in her own right.

It also changes their dynamic that none of Geralt's decisions re: Renfri are motivated by wanting to fuck her. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't, anyway.) Like, she makes that play, when she's looking for a hook that’ll give her a way to control Geralt -- same way we saw her make that play with the thugs planning to kill her in her introductory scene -- but there’s no sense that it’s motivated by desire, just cold calculation.

(And when Geralt's like “uhm, no,” she taunts him and asks if he's incapable of it. She's not a nice person.)

There's no guarantee that they won't fuck later, because compulsory heterosexuality, but she is definitely not being set up like a love interest.

She's quite unlikable in this, and I get the impression that she's supposed to be—that you can pity her, to be sure, because she has indeed been wronged, but she's not a sweet and blameless “ideal victim.”

idk, it's just interesting.

*

FROM THE TOP!

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Not a fan of threats of sexual violence being used as a plot device, but good on this girl for straight-up stabbing the dude!

(I assume the girl Geralt rescued is Renfri, since the dudes claimed she was a mutant before he killed them.)

*

Hm, and here is Vesemir telling Geralt he shouldn't have stepped in to kill the would-be rapists: “And if there were witnesses to this, what would they think of a crazed witcher cutting down half a dozen people?”

Foreshadowing for Blaviken, much?

Vesemir is ~banished~ from Kaer Morhen, wot? How does that even work? Seems like if you did something bad enough to get “banished” it would be bad enough that they wouldn't trust you on the Path anymore.

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lol these subtitles are calling the path “the route,” which doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

*

Not really a fan of Renfri's actress or characterization in this one, she comes off like a spoiled child.

...A very mercurial and manipulative child.

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Hah, I like that Roach has been trained to ignore commands from non-Geralt people. That vibes with my headcanon for why he likes Difficult horses.

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...lolol okay I did enjoy the bandit jumping out to try to scare them, and then Renfri just bitchslaps him.

Renfri: TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER.

Bandit: I--

Renfri: SILENCE, YOU FUCKING SWINE, I TOLD YOU TO TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER.

Bandit: ...yes ma’am. 😞

*

100% A+ that Geralt carries his saddlebags with him when he goes into town! Yes! As he would! Same as you don't leave your purse sitting your unlocked car!

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PFFT.

Hooray for Geralt saving a dryad from a basilisk or whatever, after she'd been shot with an arrow!

Oh no the arrow was poisoned!

It's okay, Geralt will suck the poison from the wound!

...It is awkward that she got shot in the tit though.

*facepalm*

It doesn't feel that sleazy, because Geralt doesn't feel sleazy—he's quite utilitarian about the whole business—but that is still a Choice someone made.

*

Oh no, Geralt is about to look “”hideous”” from taking his potions!!

Will it be less of a cop-out than TWN???

Answer: not in the slightest, he just looks like he’s on MDMA.

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I do wish they would stop trying to force love interests on Geralt every episode, especially since they are developed so staggeringly shallowly, and we all know they're not sticking around anyway.

Also this actress looks VERY, VERY YOUNG, like, that is a child young, like, that could be a boy-child young, because they look the same pre-pubescent.

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lolol Queen of the Dryads looks like Scully in camo facepaint. Welp, no one better for the job!

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“I am a witcher, a mutated human. We are not allowed to love; maybe we cannot.”

THIS IS THE KIND OF CONFLICT I'M HERE FOR, BABY. 😎

*

lol I do like the “mama with a shotgun” vibe for the dryad queen. Like, Yes thank you for saving my girl, I appreciate it a lot, and now you are going to let her down gently, and you are going to leave. 🙃🙃🙃

*

The subtitles have definitely gotten better, and despite the excruciatingly tedious compulsory heterosexuality, this episode was a lot livelier than the previous episodes. Would recommend starting with this one, I think. You really don't need any backstory from the first two.

[thedeviousdevilxx]

Besides the drug and alcohol abuse in these GnR bios and autobios, there is a lot of disturbing events that are just kinda mentioned rather casually. 

Like 13-14 year old Steven having sex with a 30+ year old woman? A grown adult SHOULD NEVER be sexually involved with a minor! It’s statutory rape and basically that woman is a pedo. It doesn’t matter if the minor is interested or into it, they are still relatively a CHILD at that age. Ahhh I read that in Slash’s bio and while he neither endorsed or condemned the fact, it was written more matter of factly, and then Slash’s father told him to warn Steven that the husband wanted to kill Steven who is very much a YOUNG MINOR for sleeping with his wife. It was written as if it was kinda a messed up but sort of amusing antidote. And yet for me I thought this was so FUCKED UP. 

But I remember how our society views minor boys as sex crazed fiends so when an adult WOMAN grooms and engages in predatory sexual behavior with A MINOR BOY CHILD, people will actually congratulate the MINOR BOY CHILD of scoring, praising him for getting laid etc. It’s a sick twisted perspective pushed by our patriarchal society(men always want sex/are ready for sex) and so when these minor boys grow up many develop a lot of issues stemming from this but society just brushes it off. 

Because like we should discuss the ways which women can be predatory and it can be done WITHOUT derailing other discussions about cis female and trans female victims ya know! 

Anyways yeah that part disturbed me a lot, along with yeah the accusation against Axl according to Slash’s perspective it seemed a mess of a situation and since nobody knows the girl’s side we just have Axl and Slash’s version so who really knows. 

But for the record rape accusations are very rare, and when cases get dropped it’s because the court system is actively hostile to victims, AND, lack of evidence thus dissolving into he said/she said etc. Going through the court system is traumatic, and when cases when the assault is seen, still the rapist walks off with a pitiful sentence showing even with EVIDENCE, witnesses! Most cases never receive any justice because the justice system is broken! That’s another topic. 

 Anyways this incident happened before they were even big and famous so the idea she did so because of some nebulous gain rather than drugs were involved and when drugs and sex are involved things can go bad really quickly. Which is why consent TODAY is so important. And that goes for guys under the influence as well, you become incredible vulnerable, can be incoherent and thus unable to make lucid decisions! It goes BOTH ways and while some might not think it’s messed up, if one partner is more sober than the other, that’s not okay and we as a society need to discuss why and how to openly and safely discuss messy situations like this without too much judgment and moral handwringing. 

And Axl himself was abused and sexually assaulted while hitch hiking but got away. This deeply impacted him, like of course that was fucking traumatic! Plus the familial abuse...y’all no wonder he’s unhinged, the dude suffered a lot.

 For me it just shows how incredible difficult things about this subject, it isn’t always clear cut, there are so many shades of grey, it’s complex, messy, and just fucked up and sometimes there is no justice, no help, no fix for the situation.

GnR are a bunch of fucked up individuals dealing with a shit ton of trauma, abuse, addictions but in general yeah I do not think they’re bad people compared to a lot. But we tend to view celebrities with too much heart eyes and idolize them that all their bad behaviors, bigotry, and flaws are ignored, justified or even praised and celebrated. Some “stans” take it even further and worship celebrities going so far as to harass, dox, and target people with criticisms. 

They are people, and people fuck up, and sometimes those fuck ups are too much. Personally I have a line that if something or someone I adore crosses, it’s over. I’m mature enough to know when it’s time to let go.  

I also don’t hold people’s past over their heads unless they haven’t shown they’ve changed. Someone with a looooong history of certain actions or behaviors, or it’s very, very recent. Yeah no cigar there mate 

No point this is just a brain dump. 

[megahwn]

Three Years Later

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x female reader

Genre: established relationship!au; hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2,482

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit language; cunnilingus; discussion of past sexual assault (no act is directly described, but please be cautious when reading)

Summary: You love being intimate with your boyfriend, and one act in particular is your absolute favorite thing. When he thinks to ask you why, you choose to finally confront a hidden truth about your past.

A/N: Written for @peonybane’s The Intimacy Anthology. Based on a true story.

“Yes, yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg, legs practically vibrating around your boyfriend’s back as he holds your hips down with his inhumanly strong arms. He doesn’t stop, choosing instead to lick into you even faster than before, making you cry out in unadulterated bliss. You’re soaked from his tongue on you and your own arousal leaving you all at once, and you can feel yourself approaching your end.

Just as Seokjin appears to be giving you some sort of reprieve by taking his tongue out of you, he immediately turns his attention to your clit, wrapping his plush lips around it and sucking hard. The pressure from his lips and his tongue working together on your bundle of nerves sends you headlong into an orgasm, warmth radiating from your belly to the tips of your fingers and toes. You try to regulate your breathing as Seokjin lifts himself off of you and comes to settle himself beside you on your bed, not even bothering to remove your wetness from his face.

“Go clean up,” you giggle at him for being so content with himself.

“But I don’t wanna,” he drags out, flopping down onto his back in mock petulance.

You shake your head at him fondly as he turns toward you once more, propping his head up with his hand.

“You have a perfect body, you know,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Shut up,” you retort, cheeks burning.

“I love eating it,” Seokjin continues anyway.

“Oh my God, shut up!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands.

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t love it too,” he says in sing-song.

“... You know it’s my favorite thing for you to do to me,” you manage to mumble through your hands, still unwilling to look at your boyfriend.

“Yeah, I know,” Seokjin says with his signature confidence. His voice then takes on a questioning tone when he says, “Why is that, anyway?”

In that moment, everything good about today - your dinner with Seokjin, the beautiful flowers he got you, the great orgasm he just gave you - is suddenly replaced by fear in your heart and a lump in your throat.

You take your hands away from your face. “Why what?” you ask, even though you already know what he means. You just hope you’re wrong.

Seokjin seems to be unaware of your inner turmoil. “Why do you like me going down on you more than anything else we do? I mean, I know I’m good at it, but I feel like that’s not it.”

You figured that someday your boyfriend might ask you why you loved being gone down on so much, but you didn’t think it would be today. Would this moment be where it all goes wrong?

“I don’t know if I can tell you,” you start slowly, cautiously. Seokjin notices your trepidation right away, and he immediately moves to sit up on the bed and face you directly, even as you continue to lay down next to him. “I’ve only told a few people.”

“Okay, this sounds… serious.” You can practically hear the wheels turning in Seokjin’s head as he tries to find the right words. “I didn’t expect your answer to be serious, so if you don’t want to talk about it, we definitely don’t have to.”

His response makes your heart do somersaults inside your chest. You love this man. How could you not, when he says things like that? His trust in you and his willingness to remain in the dark about something that clearly bothers you makes you want to scream and you just know that this is the right time, so you say it.

“I was assaulted.”

The words ring in your ears as they fill the space you and your boyfriend occupy. To this day, almost three years after the fact, they are still hard to say without taking you back to that place. They’re difficult words and you hate them most of the time, but it feels good to get them out.

You finally turn your head back toward your boyfriend, and as your eyes find his face you can see him quickly change his expression from one of shock to something much more neutral. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and the corners of his mouth are turned down more than they usually are, though. He’s trying to be calm for you.

“Um, okay… Can I ask you what happened? Or is that overstepping some kind of boundary you don’t want crossed?” You can hear confusion in his voice, and something else that might be heartbreak.

You sigh audibly, turning back toward the ceiling and saying, “You can ask me. It’s okay.”

“Alright, then,” Seokjin says quietly. His thumb gently moves back and forth across your arm as he asks, “What happened?”

You take a breath, ready to begin your story, when a thought pops into your head that you can’t ignore.

“Before I talk to you about this, I want to make something clear,” you announce to no one in particular, still looking toward your bedroom ceiling. “I don’t want your pity. I’m tired of people feeling bad for me because of this, and it’s not what I want from you. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you about this sooner. I don’t want pity, and I don’t want you to see me differently after I tell you this story. Okay?”

“Okay,” is all he says. He sounds sincere, like he really understands the seriousness of what you just asked of him. It soothes your nerves, if only slightly.

“God, this is still embarrassing to talk about.” You’re not sure why you lead with those words. It shouldn’t be embarrassing to talk about how you were violated. And yet, somehow, it just is.

“It’s okay, just tell me what you want me to know,” Seokjin says quietly. You can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady. Guilt overtakes you at the thought of making him upset. So much guilt.

“Okay,” you say despite your shame. You take a deep breath, and then the words flood from you like a tidal wave.

“He was a friend’s brother. We used to flirt all the time in college, and we even ended up sexting a couple times.” You peek over at Seokjin, already expecting judgment like you had experienced with others to whom you had told your story. It doesn’t come this time, so you continue on.

“One day I was sad about something and he asked me to hang out, so I said yes because I wanted a distraction. We got some food and drove to the lake, and we were eating in his car when he basically asked me why we hadn’t fucked yet and said that we should. I was still sad so I didn’t want to, and he also didn’t have a condom with him so I really didn’t want to. I told him that but he just wouldn’t let it go.”

You take a moment to pause and collect your thoughts. At this point, you can’t bring yourself to look at Seokjin because you know what you’re about to say next.

“He brought up the fact that when we sexted in the past, I had said that we should fuck. I started to feel guilty about not being into it. I felt like I owed it to him because of what I had said in the past. He was still complaining about the fact that I wouldn’t fuck him, and I was still refusing, so eventually he goes, ‘At least let me eat you out.’ At that point I just wanted to go home, and I was still feeling guilty about not wanting to have sex with him, so I said okay. He went down on me right there, in the middle of the woods. He was kneeling in front of the open passenger door of his car on a towel so he wouldn’t get his knees dirty. I was laying across the seat and the center console, and I still remember how uncomfortable it was. When he stopped, I looked up, thinking it was finally over, but he was getting closer to me, dick in his hand. I instinctively closed my legs and said, ‘What are you doing?’ He pushed my legs back open, told me to relax, and then he raped me.”

You feel raw, open. Your blood is pounding in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so exposed. Seokjin hasn’t said anything yet, which is fine (totally fine), and just as you begin to let inklings of doubt and regret into your brain -

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Throughout your retelling of your assault, you didn’t shed a tear. In fact, you barely stopped to take a breath, just wanting it to be out there so you wouldn’t have to say anything else about it. It’s only when you hear those gentle words come out of your boyfriend’s mouth that your eyes start to water.

“Yeah,” you say, feeling small. “Me too.”

“Can I hug you?” he asks, still gentle. He knows how much you love it when he asks before touching you. Now he knows why.

“Yes,” you say, finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

You hear shuffling sounds, then Seokjin is laying next to you once more, and he scoots over so his body is flush with yours. He throws an arm and a leg over your body and places his head in your neck. You immediately feel wetness on your shoulder, and you realize that Seokjin is crying too.

You lay there for a while, letting the weight of Seokjin’s limbs on your torso and the feel of his breath on your neck ground you into the present moment. Whenever you discuss your assault with anyone, you tend to go back to that place for a while and relive every feeling, every smell, every touch of your rapist’s hands on your body. It really takes a toll on you, as much as you hate to admit it.

What you hate the most about discussing (or even thinking about) your assault, though, is the immense amount of guilt you feel. Guilt that you led your rapist on, guilt that you didn’t want to have sex with him, guilt that you eventually gave in, guilt that you didn’t fight back.

“I feel like it’s my fault sometimes,” you manage to get out much more calmly than how it sounded in your head. You’re playing with Seokjin’s hair as he continues to lay beside you, sniffling slightly in attempts to stop himself from crying.

Seokjin takes in a shaky-sounding breath and lets it out slowly. “Do you want to talk about that?” he asks you as he gives your body a quick squeeze. He does that when he wants you to know you’re safe.

Usually people are quick to reassure you that, no, your rape was not your fault. The thing is, though, that you know that already. You are well-aware that the only person at fault in your rape was your rapist. No one else. So the fact that Seokjin simply asked if you would like to talk about your feelings of guilt, rather than trying to assuage those feelings without letting you speak your mind, is a really big deal to you. You just didn’t know it was a big deal until now.

You let out a small, pathetic sounding, “Yes.” Your throat feels so tight with emotion, you’re amazed you were even able to say anything at all. Seokjin gives you another squeeze.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, sounding much more composed than he did a few moments ago. He’s really trying to hold it together for you. “Let it out,” he continues, leaving you free to speak your mind.

It takes you a minute to collect your thoughts, but once you do, you’re able to get to the root of what plagues you. “I feel like I had a choice and I made the wrong one because I didn’t want him to be mad at me,” you say to the ceiling. “I could have kept saying ‘no’ but I just kind of gave up and let it happen to me.”

Your boyfriend lets out a “Huh,” then immediately turns over in the bed and reaches for his phone. You would be offended, but you had already learned a long time ago that whenever you’re in the middle of a conversation and he does this, it’s because he wants to show you something that he thinks will be helpful.

“Aha, here it is,” he says triumphantly after a minute or two. He then turns the phone toward you so you can read the screen.

It’s an Instagram post. The orange picture is full of black and white text, and the title reads, Know “No.” You read through the post, slightly confused about what it has to do with what you’re talking about, when you read the last line.

“No” might look like five ‘No’s and eventually a ‘Yes.’

You read the line at least three times before it registers with you completely. You blink away fresh tears and return the phone to Seokjin’s waiting hand. You slowly turn to face him for the first time in a while, completely overwhelmed by how much you love him.

“You said no,” he simply states. “Giving in after saying no isn’t consent.”

You sigh out, moving to place your head under Seokjin’s chin. That was exactly what you needed. He always manages to give you exactly what you need.

You clear your throat for what feels like the thousandth time in the last ten minutes, and then you circle back to finally answer Seokjin’s original question.

“I hope this isn’t weird for you now, but that’s why I like it so much when you go down on me. It’s the fact that you love me and would never hurt me like he did. It’s the fact that every time you do it, I heal a little bit more.”

Before Seokjin has a chance to question you, you continue your monologue. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think about the assault every time you do it, but when I do have flashbacks I’m able to get through them just by thinking about how much you care for me and how much you respect me and my boundaries. I know that if I ever told you “no,” you would stop right then and there. I’m really, really grateful for that. And for you.”

Seokjin gives you a third squeeze. He’s right. You are safe with him. You feel him give a kiss to the crown of your head, and then you both drift off to sleep.

[cauldronofmorning]

Hollyhock!

I'm rewatching Bojack as we speak so if there's shit I missed I'm sorry in advance.

Sexuality Headcanon: bi with a preference for men, dad influences.

Gender Headcanon: nonbinary

A ship I have with said character: I don't think I have one?

A BROTP I have with said character: Bojack before he sabotaged everything.

A NOTP I have with said character: same as ship question, it's not a show I ship anything in.

A random headcanon: she gets into Sarah Lynn's music and steadfastly refuses to look into her personal life, it's difficult but she feels like she owes her that much.

General Opinion over said character: because you know someone said this, they say it for everyone who's not Bojack (some wretched fucker said Penny was the rapist!), I'll say this: she had every right to cut him off. As sympathetic as he is, Bojack was and is an abuser, and the fact that his main reaction to Penny was self pity? Damns him even more.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Champagne Problems-Diego Hargreeves

a/n: WHO’S READY FOR THE ANGST?! here we go lol. i’ve never written a song-inspired fic but here we are. this part 1 of of my 2 valentine’s day fics. the other is a cute luther fic and hopefully I’ll be able to write more umbrella academy so... NO I HAVE NOT FINISHED SEASON 2 DON’T COME FOR ME. i’m also totally willing to write a second part to this, especially after i hurt myself so bad so if it’s something you’re interested in, please let me know. listening to champagne problems during this is probably a good idea. this also exists minorly in my law and order: special victims unit x the umbrella academy universe but it’s really only slight mentions of ADA work, so no real connection. 

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: ANGST, Hazel, Agnes, and Eudora live and Ben comes back to life because I said so, post-Texas apocalypse but my own storyline because I haven’t finished season 2 yet, my own thoughts and feeling in the form of the main character, Ben’s secretly a history nerd, Tumblr fucked with my spacing and I’m salty

word count: 3,064 (including song lyrics)

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

-

You always opted to take the cases that kept you up the latest at night, working the hardest to get victims justice. You refused to sleep at night until you knew you’d be able to put a killer or rapist away the next day. Which, in turn, meant that there’d often be nights a detective would call in need of a warrant, already knowing you’d still be awake. However, there would be nights, weeks, even, where it was a small case or no cases at all. Those were the days you’d busy yourself in the office until you had no other reason to be there, finding the later you took the subway home, the fewer people there would be. Usually, the quiet of the night calmed you and gave you time to reflect. Sometimes though, your mind would wander to him.

-

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

-

Diego had taken you on a drive, bringing you to the city of Manhattan. You always spoke of your love of the city, missing your time spent there while in law school. The two of you had gone for a walk and picnic through Central Park and as the sun was beginning to set, leaving the New York sky a dusty pink, he grabbed your hand as you talked about your favorite memory at the Chinese place just down the road. You paused, looking up at him, seeing the love for swimming within his features. After that night, you had grown to hate the sight of Central Park and avoided it by all means necessary. Your team had never been able to figure out why.

-

Your mom's ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

-

Although never actually married to Reginald, and despite the fact that she was an AI, Grace had a wedding band she kept tucked away. When Diego had introduced you to Grace, he knew that you would be the one he’d marry. You were so kind to the AI, not batting an eyelash at her charging port or her sometimes distant nature. She was Diego’s mom by all accounts, and he’d be damned if he was going to live the rest of his life with a girl who didn’t respect his mother. Despite Diego’s fear, you and the AI got on splendidly and at the end of the night, when you were talking to Pogo, Grace brought the boy upstairs and slipped him the small band. She smiled at him and Diego had to restrain himself from crushing the sweet women in a hug. “Just in case.” she had said.

-

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

-

Diego had tried from the very beginning to be honest with you that he came with a lot of issues. Building trust had been difficult and a fragile process. You had been patient and kind and understanding and everything he was certain he didn’t deserve. Diego slowly learned to let his walls and heart open to you and by the end of it, Diego believed that you had melted his heart of ice and worked your way into his life and family. Until you turned away, dropping the ice heart, shattering it.

-

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

-

When you and Diego had first met, it had been purely by accident. You were just moving into the apartment across the hall from Vanya’s and he had come barreling down the stairs after Five. After knocking you and one too many boxes to the ground, Diego profusely apologized, concerned eyes flitting across you to make sure that you indeed weren’t hurt. He had offered to help you finish moving your belongings, wanting a few more minutes with the pretty girl on the stairs. You agreed and asked if he would be interested in grabbing dinner with you that night since you didn’t know anywhere in town. He agreed and the two of you had always considered that your unofficial first date. As the two of you grew closer and Diego’s family became interested in the mysterious ADA with whom he spent all his time, the more determined Diego became to shelter you from them. His family came with a lot of baggage, a lot of trouble, and you had enough just trying to put the bad guys away. But as he became more certain he wanted you in his life for a long time, the more he knew he wanted to tell his siblings. After the apocalypse, he and his siblings had tried to repair the broken bridges and had been successful for the most part. So, one night, at family dinner, he looked around at his siblings, laughing at some witty comment Five had made, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself. The siblings went quiet, looking over at him. You had just met Grace a few days ago, and he was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “I think I’m going to marry her.”

-

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

-

Allison had been the most excited, wanting to plan an elaborate engagement scheme, wanted to help him pick out the ring. He let her too, unsure of really what to do, and was happy to see her so excited about something. She had convinced Diego to introduce you to her and Vanya, wanting to get to know you, to accurately help Diego (and of course to get to know her future sister-in-law, with whom she was determined to be best friends). As the date that they had settled on drew nearer, she bought an expensive bottle of champagne, stating that only the finest would do for her brother’s engagement. Diego rolled his eyes, but deep down he appreciated that she cared about him this much to help him. When Diego returned to the Academy that night, unannounced and much later than originally intended, Allison immediately knew something was wrong. The siblings looked around at each other, in shock and disbelief. No one had really thought you’d say no.

-

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

-

You weren’t sure why Diego brought the bottle of champagne with him, and he wasn’t sure either, both knowing you didn’t drink. As you stared at him, and he stared at you, hurt flickering across the other’s face, all Diego could focus on was the fact that he brought that stupid bottle of champagne. Why had he listened to Allison, or Vanya, or any of the Hargreeves for that matter? Diego was not meant to get a happy ending, he was sure of it. And he had gone and tempted fate and had gotten the heart-breaking answer he knew all along.

-

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

-

The Hargreeves had taken Diego out to Griddy’s that night, not sure what else to do with him. Hazel and Agnes looked at him, pity in their eyes. The police chief of the town was there, the one who had despised Diego entirely and was entirely infuriated when he had found out his favorite ADA was “messing around” with the disgraced ex-police officer-turned-vigilante. He looked at the pity party that seemed to be happening in honor of Diego and laughed. “She always was too good for you. Glad she finally realized it.”

-

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

-

Diego had a speech, he had. He’d prepared it with Grace and Allison and had practiced it a million times over, to make sure he wouldn’t stutter. Klaus and Ben had listened patiently, giving him pointers and Vanya had even helped him rewrite it when he thought it wasn’t conveying what he wanted to say. And yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t think of a single word of it. He was nervous, sure, but he was so consumed by the love he felt for you, that he just blurted out, “Wanna get married?”. He offered wondered if he had given you a speech, told you how much he loved you, why he loved you, if you’d still be with him.  

-

Champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

-

Diego had been so nervous bringing you to the Academy to meet his siblings. He wasn’t sure how’d you react to the dysfunction of his family and he was terrified in anticipation of what the siblings might say or do that would scare you off. Luckily, you and Klaus had immediately become attached at the hip and you were already familiar with Vanya. Luthor and Five had been cold at first, waiting to see if they were up to their standards and if you had ulterior motives with Diego. You, of course, passed with flying colors and by the end of the night, you had them laughing and sharing embarrassing stories of Diego. Allison was enthused and happy to welcome you to the family. Ben had engaged you in a deep conversation about the legacy of ancient civilizations long after anyone else cared to listen or contribute. Still, Diego had been nervous it was all a front as to not have the dinner be awkward and uncomfortable. As he drove back to your (unofficially shared) apartment, he had joked that his house was a madhouse. You had seen right through him, knowing he was trying to apologize for the chaos that is his family and that is, well, Klaus. You had laughed and told him that if you could survive in your madhouse of a family, you could survive in his too.

-

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

-

As Diego looked back on your relationship, he looked for signs that you were unhappy, or wanting to leave. He was unable to come up with any, with the exception of one. You and Diego never fought. It couldn’t have been healthy but there was… never anything to fight about. You were both okay with the other’s line of work, and while not perfect, Diego was learning to be open and honest with you about what he needed from the relationship and you had always been so receptive to that. Ben had once joked that he hadn’t seen plants so evergreen as your relationship. You had laughed and Diego smiled, happy he had someone that was so easy to be with after all the hardship he’d experienced in his life. Now all Diego could do was look back on that memory with the bitter taste of regret.

-

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

-

Christmas had been your favorite holiday ever since you were a child. As you had gotten older, the excitement faded, but the cheer and happiness that came from watching old Christmas films and dancing to songs in your kitchen as you baked cookies found its way into your heart without fail every year. So, when the first Christmas with Diego came around, you had cautiously asked him if he’d like to celebrate it with you. Diego tried not to speak too much on Reginald, and from what you knew about the man, Christmas didn’t seem like something that was being celebrated at the Umbrella Academy. Diego had shrugged, saying he didn’t really know what Christmas was about to know if he’d enjoy celebrating it or not. Thus, you had taken Diego to look at lights and watched all your favorite Christmas movies as a child and listened to songs while baking family recipes and he had even helped you decorate the apartment. By the time Christmas rolled around, Diego had started to understand why you cherished the holiday so much. But waking up the morning of Christmas to gifts you had picked out for him, one making up for every year he lost out on what Christmas was supposed to be like, he felt his heart growing three sizes more, like the Grinch from the night before. Diego had never felt a love as pure when he looked at you.

The next year had been no different, just on a larger scale as the whole Hargreeves clan joined in this time. That year, Christmas morning found the Hargreeves boys whisper-yelling at Diego about how he had found the perfect woman as they woke to an abundant amount of gifts under the tree. You dragged Vanya and Allison down the stairs, insisting the family had to open presents together. Klaus had insisted he act as Santa, stating the real Santa should get to sit with her boyfriend. You hadn’t protested, seeing how much a kick he got out of the hat and curled up into Diego as he sat with his back against the arm of the couch. Diego ran his fingers through your hair, and you laid your head against his chest. Luther, wide-eyed, asked you how you were able to pay for all of it. You had shrugged and stated that being an ADA paid you a much larger salary than you knew what to do with and moving out of Manhattan meant a lot less on rent. When Vanya asked why you’d bother spending all that money on them, your response had ensured to Diego that he’d found the right one. “Well, you guys are like family to me. And you never got the Christmases I grew up with and it’s all about making other people happy. I wanted to give you back the Christmas you never had.”

As he looked around at the decorated Academy this year, Klaus and Ben insisting on continuing the tradition you left behind, Diego just felt an overwhelming sense of hatred of the colors and lights. All just painful reminders of what he lost. Of the girl who left.

-

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

-

Luther was the only one who could never quite believe you were with Diego totally and completely. Maybe the misgivings came from his strained relationship with the second Hargreeves boy but he always believed you were in it for one of two reasons. Either the money that came with Hargreeves fortune or the fame that came with the Hargreeves name. Of course, Luther wasn’t you, and would never understand the real reason you had said…

“No.” Diego looked at you, hand on his pocket, ready to give you Grace’s ring, unsure if his fear was playing tricks with his head. You shook your head, “No, Diego. I’m sorry.” When those words had left Diego’s mouth, your heart had stopped. You loved Diego, more than anything you had ever known, but the untold horrors of your life before Diego came rushing to the surface and began to choke you. How could you marry Diego when you couldn’t disclose the worst moments of your life to him for fear of being a burden on the already broken boy? You realized at that moment, you could be everything Diego needed, but you would never allow Diego to be everything you needed, setting your relationship hurtling for sure-fire failure. You gasped, the tears threatening to render you breathless. “Diego, I-” And in a moment of pure, blind panic, you grabbed your things and ran, leaving the boy devastated behind you.

-

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said

-

A few weeks after that night, Diego found himself alone at the Academy with Five. The two of them were sitting at the bar, not saying much. Finally, Five put his drink down on the table and looked at Diego. “I am really sorry about her, Diego.” Diego looked up at Five. “It’s a shame she’s got too many issues up here,” he said, tapping his head, “to give you what you wanted. She was one-of-a-kind.”

“What are you talking about Five?” Diego questioned, mildly annoyed Five brought you up.

“Did she give you a reason why, Diego?” Number 2 shook his head. “She always seemed to have her own issues, her own baggage, she was never willing to discuss. Maybe her issues with marriage was one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous Five, she would’ve told me.” Diego said, taking a sip of his drink. But as he thought about it, the more he wondered if Five was right. You had told him about your less-than-ideal relationship with your family and disclosed the fact that you didn’t drink due to a genetic predisposition of being an alcoholic, but he had always sensed there was something more you wouldn’t share.

-

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

And hold your hand while dancing

-

One night, he ran into Eudora at Griddy’s making a midnight waffle run for the family. She told him she had heard about the failed proposal and that if he ever wanted or needed to talk, she’d be there. He called her a few days later, and the two of them met up at a bar for a few drinks. He told her about you and that night, and as Diego talked about it, he realized that pain subsided. The outings to the bar became weekly occurrences and he found himself enjoying the company and comfort Eudora offered. And as Eudora found her way back into his life, as time went on, Diego realized he thought of you less and less.

-

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken karaoke hookup with Rafael Barba

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warnings: Mature content (no smut), very dubious consent due to alcohol, SVU-typical topics discussed

1,850 words

The light was what woke him up. Even behind his eyelids, the light was a gnawing pain that irritated him out of what had been an extremely heavy sleep. When he at last gave in to the inevitability of consciousness and opened his sluggish lids, the light seared into his retinas and stabbed him like a dagger through the optic nerve, making him hiss and pull the covers over his head.

In short, Rafael Barba awoke with a splitting hangover.

Groaning and shielding his eyes from the blaze with a palm cupped to his forehead, he peeked out of the covers and swiveled his head around. He was lying in a bed that was not his bed, in a room that was not his room. Based on the narrow size of it, the big screen TV at the center, and generic art on the walls, it was clearly a hotel room. The sun shone angrily in through the window, reflecting harshly off the windows of adjacent skyscrapers.

Something heavy and warm moved in the bed next to him, and made a low noise. At that moment, he realized there was an arm draped around his waist. His head throbbed painfully as his heart sped up.

You opened your eyes with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head, then propped yourself up on your elbow with a drowsy smile. “Morning, Rafael.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide and unbelievably pale green in the daylight, with his pupils contracted to dots. “Hello,” he greeted with bewilderment and impending panic that he haphazardly stuffed down inside a well-trained disguise of professional courtesy, though several of its seams were ripping already, only two syllables in.

“Last night was… something,” you murmured, eyes squinted into narrow slits. You were calm and pleasant, but there was a trace of hesitation in your voice, like you were nervous, or hiding something. It was enough to arouse his suspicions. You knew what was happening. You knew his name and weren’t surprised to find him in your bed, or yourself in this room.

“Where am I?” he said sternly, words short and clipped. “Who the hell are you?”

Your eyes opened wide at that, then scrunched closed again with a pained grunt that brought your hand to your face. You opened them again slowly, gradually adjusting to the light, and squinting at him in confusion you rasped, “What?!”

He was convinced of it now. He’d seen enough cases like this, taken enough witness testimony, to understand exactly what had happened to him. “You drugged me,” he growled. “You think you can get away with drugging an A.D.A.? Was this for some kind of… of blackmail?”

“Drugged you? What the fuck?” Your eyes filled up with confusion, hurt, and fear. You scrambled away toward the headboard, wincing. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything? No,” you shook your head, laughing nervously, “This… this is one of those weird pickup artist games so you don’t have to call me, right?” But there was no recognition in his eyes, only a cold, impersonal glare. Your hands flew to your mouth.

His resolution that you were some sort of predator faltered as he watched you panic, and you seemed so small and frail, and scared. It made no sense that he would wake up with no memory of last night, though. Rafael Barba was always in complete control of himself. He did not drink to excess—he rarely even got drunk—and he would never have gone home with a stranger.

As he collected the fragments of his thoughts, however, he began to shape a different story. The splitting headache and fuzziness in his mind was familiar—he recognized it from sophomore year at Harvard, and a party with the legacies who shared last names with wings of the library where he had been peer-pressured into drinking so much he blacked out. He ended up being blamed for the whole thing, while his wealthy “friends” didn’t get so much as a stern lecture. That day, he learned a valuable lesson about never letting his guard down. But a dim memory came back from the night before—he remembered being devastated by the result of a trial. He remembered nothing had been going right. And he remembered drinking.

If he was that drunk… if he couldn’t remember what he did…

He was stuck to the inside of his pants with dry semen. You had pulled away so that you were no longer under the blankets, and his chest constricted when he saw your shirt and bra torn open, and angry bruises and bite marks covering your neck all the way down to your breasts. Your face was drained of color, and you stared at him with terror when you spotted the direction of his gaze, swiftly closing your blouse. “Oh god,” he croaked. He had seen images just like this hundreds of time, submitted into evidence. He had heard this story a hundred times, too: a normally harmless man gets drunk and assaults someone, then later feigns innocence because he couldn’t remember the crime. Barba had put away men like that, with never an ounce of pity for their excuses. It wasn’t you. He felt nauseous. Blood pounded in his ears.

“What did I do?” His throat was so dry. He swallowed hard, and swallowed again, but the horrible dryness remained. “Oh god, what did I… Did I do anything inappropriate? Are you hurt? Oh god.” He blinked, glancing around the room to anchor himself to his surroundings. Big hotel flat-screen. Bathroom door. Tiny office desk with his Brioni suit jacket folded over it sloppily. He didn’t remember taking it off. “OK,” he breathed. “I need to establish a timeline. We need to determine if any… if any crimes were… Oh god.” He scrubbed his face with his palm and left his hand clamped over his mouth. He sexually assaulted someone and his life was over. He was one of the monsters he put away.

“What the fuck is happening?” you half-whispered, the corners of your lips pulling taut into a grimace as your hungover mind spun to catch up with the emotional whiplash of the last sixty seconds.

His eyes were glassy with unspilled tears, but he tried to smile comfortingly, like he might to a hesitant witness in a trial. “Look, I’m a lawyer. I… I know the detectives in the Special Victims Unit,” he said. You shot back a skeptical glance, and he realized that probably sounded like a veiled threat. “I can give you Sargent Benson’s number. They won’t go easy on me if you press charges, trust me. I’m sure some of them would be happy to handcuff me for how difficult I make their lives. Obviously, I’ll plead guilty to any charges, but first we need to convince the grand jury to indict...”

Your face had worked through several stages of confusion, cringing, and brow-raising, and finally your brow pinched together and your grimace broke into the dark, guilty grin of someone laughing at something that was probably too serious to laugh at.

“Rafael, you really...” you covered your eyes and shook your head, “You are really obsessed with proving you’re a rapist; I think your job is doing something to your brain. Maybe you need a vacation.”

His mind had been working a mile a minute to uncover the crime that would explain the mystery of his distressing circumstances, first accusing you, and then himself of being the perpetrator. But, he had been told more than once that he could be high-strung at times. Maybe there was no crime, legally speaking. At least, he was relieved he hadn’t done something awful. It was still unclear who you were, and why you felt comfortable taking advantage of someone who was severely impaired by alcohol. There was something else… something just out of reach in the smoky nebula of his memory.

“What do you know about my job?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“You told me about it last night!” You sighed heavily, and scooted closer to him. “Tranquilo, Rafael. Cálmate.” You gently pressed his shoulders as you searched his eyes. He flinched away from your touch, and you frowned. “You really don’t remember me? Jesus, you were drunker than I thought. It’s a good thing we didn’t fuck.”

“We didn’t?”

“No. You wanted to, but I told you you were too drunk!” You poked his chest in a playful I-told-you-so way, but when he returned only a strained glare, your hand dropped sheepishly to your side.

He was puzzled and disturbed. Most strangers mistook him for a gringuito, but you just told him to calm down in Spanish. You had obviously spoken at length. But he couldn’t remember. And there was something about you he couldn’t put his finger on, something that felt important. It probably wasn’t. Whenever he forgot something he meant to say, it grated at his brain for the longest time, and when he finally remembered, it was always something like, “I prefer Cheez Doodles over Cheetos.”

There was something in the way you were looking at him, almost mournfully that stirred up a lost feeling. He wondered what he had said to you last night—what kind of reckless flirt drunk-Barba had been to leave you so heartbroken this morning. He would have felt guiltier, but his head was being squeezed in a lead vice, and he was in no mood to tolerate fools. Maybe you hadn’t intended it, but you had taken advantage of a moment of weakness, and he was done with the whole sordid incident.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that…” He winced as he stood up from the bed, his underwear yanking on the pubic hair glued to it with dried cum.

“Please, stay and use the shower,” you offered, but it was more like a plea.

“Well, I certainly can’t go out like this,” he snipped. His shirt was wrinkled, and his slacks ruined, with the embarrassing pièce de résistance of the crispy, stiff area at his crotch which could not escape anyone’s notice. He could only imagine what his hair was doing.

Your eyes followed him as he bustled around the small room wearing a sour expression, checking the closet for, and gratefully finding, an ironing board. They kept following him until he closed the bathroom door behind him, and he was left alone with your helpless eyes still hanging in front of him in his imagination, and the strange way they made him feel. He had a million questions for you, but he was certain he did not want the answers.

It’s not as if this story could have had a happy ending, anyway. He was an A.D.A. with a career in the public eye, and this was already bordering on a scandal. Drunken hookups with party girls at bars never ended well. It was better to just forget.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:  @beccabarba​ @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws​ @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020 

[thegreymoon]

Ever Night

How does she always make the worst decisions 😑

I am trying SO HARD to stan but she makes it so difficult 😒

***

These people are the only ones I stand behind on this show. The rest are all getting on my very last nerve. 

I am so sick of the Tang Emperor, he has no spine and no common sense and this pitiful attempt to give the Empress a story arc of her own was beyond underwhelming. Like, choose your position and stick to it, ffs!

***

LMAOOOO, weren’t you trying to murder her, like, 2 seconds ago? 

When will this show go back to being intelligent 😫

***

I mean, he’s not wrong, but who the hell wrote this script? 

=> the Elder sneaks in to murder the Emperor

=> the Elder tries to murder the Empress when she won’t aid him in killing the Emperor

=> the Elder gets the Emperor to agree to his terms with severe political, religious and military repercussions with no real leverage whatsoever except pointing a stick at the Empress

=> (the royal guard is somehow unbothered and nowhere to be seen)

=> the Elder is suddenly worried about the state of the royal marriage again and apparently concerned about Empress’ happiness after she unrepentantly abandoned their people in a frozen wasteland to live a life of luxury and he tried to murder her for it

=> the princess does the only logical thing there is to do when an assassin infiltrates the goddamn palace to threaten the lives of her royal father and his wife

=> (the captain of the royal guard appears and remains unbothered)

=> Emperor: “Tell my daughter to go away, nothing to see here, it’s not an assassination attempt, just a tiny squabble with my in-laws!”

=> the Elder points out the absurdity of this entire situation as if we’re now supposed to laugh off this whole debacle of a script and write off literal attempted regicide on a quip from a quirky old man who ~loves~ his daughter even though he just tried to kill her

Me: ................................................... 🙄🙄

***

LMAO, and since there was obviously no logical resolution to this whole damn ridiculous mess, the writers decided to conclude the entire shitty arc by having the Elder commit suicide for no good reason via terrible special effects 🤣🤣

I cannot with this nonsense 🤣🤣

***

I’m becoming more and more sympathetic to Li Yu. I mean, she’s insufferable and a brat, but her father is just so... worthless. He replaced her mother with his mistress (and could do it with no repercussions because he’s the most powerful man in the country), had her married off to a feral tribe when she voiced her objections and is now threatening to kill her. 

Yes, she’s cold-blooded, somewhat selfish and self-centred and has a massive blind spot when it comes to her sadistic idiot brother, but her father is a really shitty parent to all of his children. 

I feel like the narrative keeps trying to make the Emperor a sympathetic, honorable character but he’s just so self-serving, spineless and cowardly and all he does all day is angst about how hard his life is. Also, there is no honour to be found anywhere. It’s canon that he’s more than willing to let corruption go unchecked and his family to get away with murder, torture and a bunch of other bullshit, as long as it benefits him. Chao Xiaoshu was right to wash his hands of all his filth. 

***

Ha! Here we go! Finally, we get to the bottom of his age!

So, he was 8 yrs old when Xia Hou attempted to kill him, fifteen years passed from that point until his arrival in the capital, which made him 23 yrs old at the time, and at least a year has passed since then. That means he is at least 24 right now. 

@dangermousie​ I suppose they upped his age because they cut the transmigration part and there is zero chance a four-year-old is going to survive killing to stay alive and taking care of a baby at the same time. Even an eight-year-old is pushing it. 

***

Every single scene with that Mo woman is such pure nonsense. Elementary school villains trying to boost her relevance, nonsense all over the place. I am losing braincells by the moment. 

***

OMFG, this stupidity is never-ending 😑😑

It is really, really hard to be invested in the story when the stakes are this manufactured. 

***

When the writing is so bad, it literally gives you second hand embarrassment. 

***

All the hate 🤮

The fact that Sang Sang is waiting for him at home, thinking of him every minute of every day, and here he is, sowing his wild oats, just gets to me on a visceral level. Fuck this entire collection of (poorly written) tropes with a cactus. It absolutely ruins stories for me and this one is also very much ruined at this point. 

***

I am beyond pissed off. Crystal Yuan is now firmly on my no-watch list.

***

This is how this useless character is described on Wikipedia: Gentle and delicate, her pureness is reflected in her cultivation as well as her honest attitude toward love.

Nauseating 🤮🤮

***

Exactly! The note is for Sang Sang, not you!

Go fuck yourself.

***

“When will he write a little note just for me?”

Bitch, never! At least I hope. 

***

LMAOOO, “Do you know how many girls I have lining up for me?”

I very much doubt anyone is lining up for your stank rapist ass. 

***

LMAOOOO, he is such a mood 🤣🤣

This is my exact face when some moron starts rambling about Heaven and Hell, how the Devil is coming to bring about the end of the world and how we must kill all those who practice the same faith a bit differently because some old man proclaiming himself as an authority figure says so and claims it’s written in a book in an ancient language that I can’t personally read and have never even seen 🙄🙄

Come to your senses already, Ning Que! Is this sheltered fool really who you want to be in love with? Ask yourself, is she really wise, deep and intelligent, or is she just rich and conventionally attractive? 

Also, let’s not get into the idiocy of her old man shifu sending this stupid child into the wilderness in the middle of a war to look for the original copy of a holy book that every single power faction is also looking for and will definitely kill to obtain. And that is before we even get to the two of them travelling alone, her wearing a pristine white outfit, and apparently carrying no supplies with her. Like???????  

I want to go back to the first episodes when this show was still good 😭😭

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany's actions as Queen of Meereen and the advice she received

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She's still massively inexperienced when it comes to leading, and has a tendency to slavishly follow the advice of those around her. (x)

~

She makes a show of paying attention to all sides but never takes their concerns about culture or the economy seriously. And, surprise, this leads to violence. You could argue that it’s fine since the majority of the city clearly wants to punish the old slave masters, but here’s where she really screws up: she doesn’t even listen to the majority of the people. It’s not like she spares the former slave who kills the Son of Harpy or finds better housing for the poor. But we can’t pretend that she’s doing it all for show; her problem is that she cares more about individual petitioners than about open debate. (Wisecrack)

~

Dany used to take control. [...] But then she got comfortable. With an army, a legion of followers who think she's "Mhysa," and a council that are all fighting over being her favorite, she's relaxed into letting other people "help" her rule (you're the Queen! YOU DO THE RULING!) and basically doing not a whole lot other than lock two out of her three dragons up in a dungeon, while the other is who-knows-where breathing fire on everything. (x)

~

[W]e haven’t really gotten a chance to get to know the people she’s (often literally) burned. They’ve been depicted as two-dimensional villains, two-faced schemers, and backwards-thinking haters committed to enslaving people. They don’t deserve pity; They deserve to be conquered! The problem here is that they actually are all people and while their values might be abhorrent to Daenerys, you can’t course correct an entire culture with a couple of decrees and a bit of gusto. Hence why Daenerys kind of deserves the wrath of the Sons of the Harpy. Conquering a city is easy — making people love you after you’ve conquered them is hard. (x)

~

It’s true that Daenerys embraces the responsibilities of her role, but unless setting everything on fire is an option, she seldom knows what to do when faced with difficult challenges. (x)

Does Dany "[make] a show of paying attention to all sides but never takes their concerns about culture or the economy seriously"? Did Dany "[relax] into letting other people "help" her rule" and "[did not do] a whole lot"? Does Dany "kind of [deserve] the wrath of the Sons of the Harpy" (disgusting)? Is it simply that "Dany seldom knows what to do" if "setting everything on fire" doesn't work? Does Dany "slavishly follow the advice of those around her"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

NOTE: For this list, I organized the chapters chronogically because I think the progression of events works better that way, which is different from other lists (that were focused on Dany's characterization), in which I ordered the chapters back to front because I felt it highlighted Dany's character development.

Also, I separated passages about Dany's actions from passages where Dany receives advice to prove that Dany makes decisions critically, i.e., taking into consideration both her counsellors' perspectives and her own without "slavishly" following neither. However, since they aren't always mutually exclusive, I had to repeat many of them and cut them short according to what I wanted to show. Still hope I got my point across with this collection.

 Dany’s actions in Slaver’s Bay

ASOS Daenerys VI

“Was the night as quiet as it seemed?” Dany asked.

“It seems it was, Your Grace,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

She was pleased. Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city was hers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?

~

“Your Worship!” he cried. “My name is Ghael. I bring greetings to the Mother of Dragons from King Cleon of Astapor, Cleon the Great.”

Dany stiffened. “I left a council to rule Astapor. A healer, a scholar, and a priest.”

“Your Worship, those sly rogues betrayed your trust. It was revealed that they were scheming to restore the Good Masters to power and the people to chains. Great Cleon exposed their plots and hacked their heads off with a cleaver, and the grateful folk of Astapor have crowned him for his valor.”

[...]I have given Astapor a butcher king. Dany felt ill, but she knew she must not let the envoy see it. “I will pray that King Cleon rules well and wisely. What would he have of me?”

[...] “As you wish. Great Cleon bids me declare his devotion to the Mother of Dragons. Your enemies are his enemies, he says, and chief among them are the Wise Masters of Yunkai. He proposes a pact between Astapor and Meereen, against the Yunkai’i.”

“I swore no harm would come to Yunkai if they released their slaves,” said Dany.

“These Yunkish dogs cannot be trusted, Your Worship. Even now they plot against you. New levies have been raised and can be seen drilling outside the city walls, warships are being built, envoys have been sent to New Ghis and Volantis in the west, to make alliances and hire sellswords. They have even dispatched riders to Vaes Dothrak to bring a khalasar down upon you. Great Cleon bid me tell you not to be afraid. Astapor remembers. Astapor will not forsake you. To prove his faith, Great Cleon offers to seal your alliance with a marriage.”

“A marriage? To me?”

Ghael smiled. His teeth were brown and rotten. “Great Cleon will give you many strong sons.”

Dany found herself bereft of words, but little Missandei came to her rescue. “Did his first wife give him sons?”

The envoy looked at her unhappily. “Great Cleon has three daughters by his first wife. Two of his newer wives are with child. But he means to put all of them aside if the Mother of Dragons will consent to wed him.”

“How noble of him,” said Dany. “I will consider all you’ve said, my lord.” She gave orders that Ghael be given chambers for the night, somewhere lower in the pyramid.

~

“Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.”

“In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her.

“We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.”

“It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,” said Daario. “My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.” if the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. “Records must be kept,” she said. “Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.”

ADWD Daenerys I

“Grey Worm, why was this man alone? Had he no partner?” By her command, when the Unsullied walked the streets of Meereen by night they always walked in pairs.

~

“Stalwart Shield shall not be forgotten. Have him washed and dressed for battle and bury him with cap and shield and spears.”

[...] “Send men to the Temple of the Graces and ask if any man has come to the Blue Graces with a sword wound. And spread the word that we will pay good gold for the short sword of Stalwart Shield. Inquire of the butchers and the herdsmen, and learn who has been gelding goats of late.” Perhaps some goatherd would confess. “Henceforth, no man of mine walks alone after dark.”

~

Selmy was training knights for her, teaching the sons of slaves to fight with lance and longsword in the Westerosi fashion … but what good would lances do against cowards who killed from the shadows?

~

Dany had dispatched her tiny khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, under the command of her three bloodriders, whilst Brown Ben Plumm took his Second Sons south to guard against Yunkish incursions.

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen. “When the Stormcrows return from Lhazar, perhaps I can use them in the streets,” she told Ser Barristan, “but until then I have only the Unsullied.”

~

“How much gold have we offered for information concerning the Sons of the Harpy?” Dany asked.

“One hundred honors, if it please Your Radiance.”

“One thousand honors would please us more. Make it so.”

[...] “Skahaz,” she told the Shavepate, “I thank you for your counsel. Reznak, see what one thousand honors may accomplish.”

~

“King Cleon would be wise to tend his own gardens and let the Yunkai’i tend theirs.” [...]

“I am only a young girl and know little of the ways of war,” she told Lord Ghael, “but we have heard that Astapor is starving. Let King Cleon feed his people before he leads them out to battle.” She made a gesture of dismissal. Ghael withdrew.

~

When Dany had closed the city’s fighting pits, the value of pit shares had plummeted. Hizdahr zo Loraq had grabbed them up with both hands, and now owned most of the fighting pits in Meereen.

[...] “...How many times have I refused you?”

“Five times, Your Magnificence.”

“Six now. I will not have the fighting pits reopened.”

~

What he desired turned out to be gold. Dany had refused to compensate any of the Great Masters for the value of their slaves, but the Meereenese kept devising other ways to squeeze coin from her. The noble Grazdan had once owned a slave woman who was a very fine weaver, it seemed; the fruits of her loom were greatly valued, not only in Meereen, but in New Ghis and Astapor and Qarth. When this woman had grown old, Grazdan had purchased half a dozen young girls and commanded the crone to instruct them in the secrets of her craft. The old woman was dead now. The young ones, freed, had opened a shop by the harbor wall to sell their weavings. Grazdan zo Galare asked that he be granted a portion of their earnings. “They owe their skill to me,” he insisted. “I plucked them from the auction bloc and gave them to the loom.”

Dany listened quietly, her face still. When he was done, she said, “What was the name of the old weaver?”

“The slave?” Grazdan shifted his weight, frowning. “She was … Elza, it might have been. Or Ella. It was six years ago she died. I have owned so many slaves, Your Grace.”

“Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman.”

~

A rich woman came, whose husband and sons had died defending the city walls. During the sack she had fled to her brother in fear. When she returned, she found her house had been turned into a brothel. The whores had bedecked themselves in her jewels and clothes. She wanted her house back, and her jewels. “They can keep the clothes,” she allowed. Dany granted her the jewels but ruled the house was lost when she abandoned it.

~

A former slave came, to accuse a certain noble of the Zhak. The man had recently taken to wife a freedwoman who had been the noble’s bedwarmer before the city fell. The noble had taken her maidenhood, used her for his pleasure, and gotten her with child. Her new husband wanted the noble gelded for the crime of rape, and he wanted a purse of gold as well, to pay him for raising the noble’s bastard as his own. Dany granted him the gold, but not the gelding. “When he lay with her, your wife was his property, to do with as he would. By law, there was no rape.” Her decision did not please him, she could see, but if she gelded every man who ever forced a bedslave, she would soon rule a city of eunuchs.

~

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father's household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father's house, and the other had joined the queen's soldiers as one of the Mother's Men. He wanted them both hanged.

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

~

“Pay them for the value of their animals,” she told Reznak, “but henceforth claimants must present themselves at the Temple of the Graces and swear a holy oath before the gods of Ghis.”

ADWD Daenerys II

“Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question.”

“It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?”

“Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this.” She hesitated. “Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?”

“Three freedmen, murdered in their homes,” the Shavepate said. “A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her.” The queen flinched. Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils. “We have no captives but this wineseller?”

“None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon.”

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him.”

“Do as you think best, but bring me names.” Her fury was a fire in her belly.

~

“I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.”

“As you command. How many men?”

“As many as you require.”

Reznak mo Reznak gasped. “Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?”

“From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy’s Sons have slain.”

~

“but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city.”

[...] “Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well.”

“Magnificence,” murmured Reznak mo Reznak, “we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills.”

“They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills.”

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. “We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl.”

“Hostages,” said Skahaz, happily.

“Pages and cupbearers. If the Great Masters make objection, explain to them that in Westeros it is a great honor for a child to be chosen to serve at court.”

~

“The freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,” Dany pointed out. “If I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.” She considered a moment. “Let it be written that henceforth only guild members shall be permitted to name themselves journeymen or masters … provided the guilds open their rolls to any freedman who can demonstrate the requisite skills.”

~

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon’s work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea’s father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

 [...] Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. “I would give Hazzea back to you if I could,” she told the father, “but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again.”

ADWD Daenerys III

The Stormcrows were returning from Lhazar. Her captain was riding back to her, bringing her the friendship of the Lamb Men. Food and trade, she reminded herself. He did not fail me, nor will he. Daario will help me save my city.

~

Skahaz mo Kandaq had given her the new watch she had asked for, made up in equal numbers of freedmen and shavepate Meereenese. They walked the streets both day and night, in dark hoods and brazen masks. The Sons of the Harpy had promised grisly death to any traitor who dared serve the dragon queen, and to their kith and kin as well, so the Shavepate's men went about as jackals, owls, and other beasts, keeping their true faces hidden.

~

“I am only a young girl and know little of such things, but older, wiser men tell me that to hold Meereen I must control its hinterlands, all the land west of Lhazar as far south as the Yunkish hills.”

~

“[...] A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

“[...] Meereen needs beans more than it needs rare spices, and beans require water.”

~

“You spoke of help. Trade with me, then. Meereen has salt to sell, and wine …”

“Ghiscari wine?” Xaro made a sour face. “The sea provides all the salt that Qarth requires, but I would gladly take as many olives as you cared to sell me. Olive oil as well.”

“I have none to offer. The slavers burned the trees.” Olives had been grown along the shores of Slaver’s Bay for centuries; but the Meereenese had put their ancient groves to the torch as Dany’s host advanced on them, leaving her to cross a blackened wasteland. “We are replanting, but it takes seven years before an olive tree begins to bear, and thirty years before it can truly be called productive. What of copper?”

“A pretty metal, but fickle as a woman. Gold, now … gold is sincere. Qarth will gladly give you gold … for slaves.”

“Meereen is a free city of free men. [...] Go to the Dothraki if you must have slaves.”

~

“Two companies. The Yunkai’i will send twenty against you if they must. And when they march, they will not march alone. Tolos and Mantarys have agreed to an alliance.”

That was ill news, if true. Daenerys had sent missions to Tolos and Mantarys, hoping to find new friends to the west to balance the enmity of Yunkai to the south. Her envoys had not returned. “Meereen has made alliance with Lhazar.”

That only made him chuckle. “The Dothraki horselords call the Lhazarene the Lamb Men. When you shear them, all they do is bleat. They are not a martial people.”

Even a sheepish friend is better than none.

~

“My freedman—” Dany started.

“Bedslaves, barbers, and brickmakers win no battles.”

He was wrong in that, she hoped. The freedmen had been a rabble once, but she had organized the men of fighting age into companies and commanded Grey Worm to make them into soldiers.

~

“...The ships are yours, sweet queen. Thirteen galleys, and men to pull the oars.”

Thirteen. To be sure. Xaro was one of the Thirteen. No doubt he had convinced each of his fellow members to give up one ship. She knew the merchant prince too well to think that he would sacrifice thirteen of his own ships. “I must consider this. May I inspect these ships?”

~

As ever, Lord Ghael was the first to present himself, looking even more wretched than usual. “Your Radiance,” he moaned, as he fell to the marble at her feet, “the armies of the Yunkai’i descend on Astapor. I beg you, come south with all your strength!”

“I warned your king that this war of his was folly,” Dany reminded him. “He would not listen.”

“Great Cleon sought only to strike down the vile slavers of Yunkai.”

“Great Cleon is a slaver himself.”

“I know that the Mother of Dragons will not abandon us in our hour of peril. Lend us your Unsullied to defend our walls.”

And if I do, who will defend my walls? “Many of my freedmen were slaves in Astapor. Perhaps some will wish to help defend your king. That is their choice, as free men. I gave Astapor its freedom. It is up to you to defend it.”

“We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom.” Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

~

Late that afternoon Admiral Groleo and Ser Barristan returned from their inspection of the galleys. Dany assembled her council to hear them. Grey Worm was there for the Unsullied, Skahaz mo Kandaq for the Brazen Beasts. In the absence of her bloodriders, a wizened jaqqa rhan called Rommo, squint-eyed and bowlegged, came to speak for her Dothraki. Her freedmen were represented by the captains of the three companies she had formed—Mollono Yos Dob of the Stalwart Shields, Symon Stripeback of the Free Brothers, Marselen of the Mother’s Men. Reznak mo Reznak hovered at the queen’s elbow, and Strong Belwas stood behind her with his huge arms crossed. Dany would not lack for counsel.

~

“My lord, I will gladly have those ships, but I cannot give you the promise that you ask.” She took his hand. “Give me the galleys, and I swear that Qarth will have the friendship of Meereen until the stars go out. Let me trade with them, and you will have a good part of the profits.”

Xaro’s glad smile died upon his lips. “What are you saying? Are you telling me you will not go?”

“I cannot go.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.”

~

“Peace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne. Can you do that?”

~

When he was gone, Daenerys called Ser Barristan back. “I want the Stormcrows back in the field.”

“Your Grace? They have only now returned …”

“I want them gone. Let them scout the Yunkish hinterlands and give protection to any caravans coming over the Khyzai Pass. Henceforth Daario shall make his reports to you. Give him every honor that is due him and see that his men are well paid, but on no account admit him to my presence.”

ADWD Daenerys V

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

~

“How fare your orphans, ser?”

The old knight smiled. “Well, Your Grace. It is good of you to ask.” The boys were his pride. “Four or five have the makings of knights. Perhaps as many as a dozen.”

“One would be enough if he were as true as you.” The day might come soon when she would have need of every knight.

~

“How many pyramids has he visited?” asked Dany.

“Eleven.”

“And how long since the last murder?”

“Six-and-twenty days.” The Shavepate’s eyes brimmed with fury. It had been his notion to have the Brazen Beasts follow her betrothed and take note of all his actions.

“So far Hizdahr has made good on his promises.”

~

Skahaz was convinced that somewhere in Meereen the Sons of the Harpy had a highborn overlord, a secret general commanding an army of shadows. Dany did not share his belief. The Brazen Beasts had taken dozens of the Harpy’s Sons, and those who had survived their capture had yielded names when questioned sharply … too many names, it seemed to her. It would have been pleasant to think that all the deaths were the work of a single enemy who might be caught and killed, but Dany suspected that the truth was otherwise. My enemies are legion. “Hizdahr zo Loraq is a persuasive man with many friends. And he is wealthy. Perhaps he has bought this peace for us with gold, or convinced the other highborn that our marriage is in their best interests.”

~

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

~

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.”

~

She turned to Ser Barristan. “Send riders into the hills to find my bloodriders. Recall Brown Ben and the Second Sons as well.”

“And the Stormcrows, Your Grace?”

Daario. “Yes. Yes.” [...] “The Stormcrows too. Send riders after them at once.”

~

“...Grey Worm, are my freedmen ready for battle?”

The eunuch crossed his arms against his chest. “They are not Unsullied, but they will not shame you. This one will swear to that by spear and sword, Your Worship.”

“Good. That’s good.”

~

“Ben, I will need your Second Sons to scout our enemies. Where they are, how fast they are advancing, how many men they have, and how they are disposed.”

“We’ll need provisions. Fresh horses too.”

“Of course. Ser Barristan will see to it.”

Brown Ben scratched his chin. “Might be we could get some o’ them to come over. If Your Grace could spare a few bags o’ gold and gems … just to give their captains a good taste, as it were … well, who knows?”

“Buy them, why not?” Dany said. That sort of thing went on all the time amongst the free companies of the Disputed Lands, she knew. “Yes, very good. Reznak, see to it. Once the Second Sons ride out, close the gates and double the watch upon the walls.”

~

“...We cannot have the Astapori in Meereen.”

Dany looked at him helplessly. It was good that dragons did not cry. “As you say, then. We will keep them outside the walls until this … this curse has run its course. Set up a camp for them beside the river, west of the city. We will send them what food we can. Perhaps we can separate the healthy from the sick.”

~

[...] “I cannot fight two enemies, one within and one without. If I am to hold Meereen, I must have the city behind me. The whole city. I need … I need …” She could not say it.

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan prompted, gently.

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.

“I need Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

 ADWD Daenerys VI

“...Let us distribute the food, Your Grace.”

“On the morrow. I am here now. I want to see.”

~

Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barbersurgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. Separating the healthy from the sick had proved impractical as well. Her Stalwart Shields had tried, pulling husbands away from wives and children from their mothers, even as the Astapori wept and kicked and pelted them with stones. A few days later, the sick were dead and the healthy ones were sick. Dividing the one from the other had accomplished nothing.

Even feeding them had grown difficult. Every day she sent them what she could, but every day there were more of them and less food to give them. It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.”

~

Many shat where they slept now, too feeble to crawl to the ditches she’d commanded them to dig. 

~

“The gods have sent this pestilence to humble me. So many dead … I will not have them eating corpses.” She beckoned Aggo closer. “Ride to the gates and bring me Grey Worm and fifty of his Unsullied.”

~

“You should not linger here overlong, Your Grace. The Astapori are being fed, as you commanded. There’s no more we can do for the poor wretches. We should repair back to the city.”

“Go if you wish, ser. I will not detain you. I will not detain any of you.” Dany vaulted down from the horse. “I cannot heal them, but I can show them that their Mother cares.”

~

There was an old man on the ground a few feet away, moaning and staring up at the grey belly of the clouds. She knelt beside him, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and pushed back his dirty grey hair to feel his brow. “His flesh is on fire. I need water to bathe him. Seawater will serve. Marselen, will you fetch some for me? I need oil as well, for the pyre. Who will help me burn the dead?”

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. Symon Stripeback and his men were pulling the living from the dead and stacking up the corpses, while Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes. Aggo stared at them as if they had all gone mad, but Grey Worm knelt beside the queen and said, “This one would be of help.”

Before midday a dozen fires were burning. Columns of greasy black smoke rose up to stain a merciless blue sky. Dany’s riding clothes were stained and sooty as she stepped back from the pyres.

~

The priestess and the seneschal were happy to see her garbed in a tokar, a proper Meereenese lady for once, but what they really wanted was to strip her bare. Daenerys heard them out, incredulous. When they were done, she said, “I have no wish to give offense, but I will not present myself naked to Hizdahr’s mother and sisters.”

~

“Hizdahr zo Loraq may inspect my women’s parts after we are wed.” Khal Drogo found no fault with them, why should he? “Let his mother and his sisters examine one another and share the special cake. I shall not be eating it. Nor shall I wash the noble Hizdahr’s noble feet.” ~

“As you wish,” she sighed. “I shall marry Hizdahr in the Temple of the Graces wrapped in a white tokar fringed with baby pearls. Is there anything else?”

~

“After the wedding Hizdahr will be king. Let him reopen the fighting pits if he wishes. I want no part of it.” Let the blood be on his hands, not mine. She rose. “If my husband wishes me to wash his feet, he must first wash mine. I will tell him so this evening.”

~

“Continue as we planned. Gather food, as much as you can.” If I look back I am lost. “We must close the gates and put every fighting man upon the walls. No one enters, no one leaves.”

ADWD Daenerys VII

“...Will you hold court today?”

“No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.”

[...] “...Will you come hold court?”

“After my wedding, perhaps. After the peace.”

~

“...Bring your frog to court tomorrow. The others too. The Westerosi.” It would be nice to hear the Common Tongue from someone besides Ser Barristan.

~

“Summon the first petitioner.”

It had been so long since she last held court that the crush of cases was almost overwhelming. The back of the hall was a solid press of people, and scuffles broke out over precedence.

[...] The rest was a tedium the queen knew well. She sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience. Jhiqui brought a platter of figs and ham at midday. There seemed to be no end to the petitioners. For every two she sent off smiling, one left red- eyed or muttering.

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on.

~

“Would that you had come a year ago. I am pledged to wed the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

[...] “This changes nothing,” Dany said, as Irri removed her crown. “What good are three men?”

~

“Your Grace, I must entreat you. My father’s strength is failing, but his devotion to your cause is as strong as ever. If my manner or my person have displeased you, that is my sorrow, but—”

“If you would please me, ser, be happy for me,” Daenerys said. “This is my wedding day. They will be dancing in the Yellow City, I do not doubt.” She sighed. “Rise, my prince, and smile. One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father’s throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai’i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves.” Dany kissed his cheek. “Come. It’s time I wed.”

ADWD Daenerys VIII

When the gluttony was done and all the half-eaten food had been cleared away—to be given to the poor who gathered below, at the queen's insistence—tall glass flutes were filled with a spiced liqueur from Qarth as dark as amber.

~

“Is there some man in the Second Sons who might be persuaded to … remove … Brown Ben?”

“As Daario Naharis once removed the other captains of the Stormcrows?” The old knight looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps. I would not know, Your Grace.”

No, she thought, you are too honest and too honorable. “If not, the Yunkai’i employ three other companies.”

“Rogues and cutthroats, scum of a hundred battlefields,” Ser Barristan warned, “with captains full as treacherous as Plumm.”

“I am only a young girl and know little of such things, but it seems to me that we want them to be treacherous. Once, you’ll recall, I convinced the Second Sons and Stormcrows to join us.”

“If Your Grace wishes a privy word with Gylo Rhegan or the Tattered Prince, I could bring them up to your apartments.”

“This is not the time. Too many eyes, too many ears. Their absence would be noted even if you could separate them discreetly from the Yunkai’i. We must find some quieter way of reaching out to them … not tonight, but soon.”

“As you command. Though I fear this is not a task for which I am well suited. In King’s Landing work of this sort was left to Lord Littlefinger or the Spider. We old knights are simple men, only good for fighting.” He patted his sword hilt.

“Our prisoners,” suggested Dany. “The Westerosi who came over from the Windblown with the three Dornishmen. We still have them in cells, do we not? Use them.”

“Free them, you mean? Is that wise? They were sent here to worm their way into your trust, so they might betray Your Grace at the first chance.”

“Then they failed. I do not trust them. I will never trust them.” If truth be told, Dany was forgetting how to trust. “We can still use them. One was a woman. Meris. Send her back, as a … a gesture of my regard. If their captain is a clever man, he will understand.”

“The woman is the worst of all.”

“All the better.” Dany considered a moment. “We should sound out the Long Lances too. And the Company of the Cat.”

“Bloodbeard.” Ser Barristan’s frown deepened. “If it please Your Grace, we want no part of him. Your Grace is too young to remember the Ninepenny Kings, but this Bloodbeard is cut from the same savage cloth. There is no honor in him, only hunger … for gold, for glory, for blood.”

“You know more of such men than me, ser.” If Bloodbeard might be truly the most dishonorable and greedy of the sellswords, he might be the easiest to sway, but she was loath to go against Ser Barristan’s counsel in such matters. “Do as you think best. But do it soon. If Hizdahr’s peace should break, I want to be ready. I do not trust the slavers.” I do not trust my husband. “They will turn on us at the first sign of weakness.”

“The Yunkai’i grow weaker as well. The bloody flux has taken hold amongst the Tolosi, it is said, and spread across the river to the third Ghiscari legion.”

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare’s coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun’s son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. “I cannot rely on plague to save me from my enemies. Set Pretty Meris free. At once.”

“As you command. Though … Your Grace, if I may be so bold, there is another road …”

“The Dornish road?” Dany sighed. The three Dornishmen had been at the feast, as befit Prince Quentyn’s rank, though Reznak had taken care to seat them as far as possible from her husband. Hizdahr did not seem to be of a jealous nature, but no man would be pleased by the presence of a rival suitor near his new bride. “The boy seems pleasant and well spoken, but …”

“House Martell is ancient and noble, and has been a leal friend to House Targaryen for more than a century, Your Grace. I had the honor of serving with Prince Quentyn’s greatuncle in your father’s seven. Prince Lewyn was as valiant a brother-in-arms as any man could wish for. Quentyn Martell is of the same blood, if it please Your Grace.”

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai’i? If he had come with a fleet …”

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever. “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.”

“Dornishmen are notoriously stubborn, Your Grace. Prince Quentyn’s forebears fought your own for the better part of two hundred years. He will not go without you.”

Then he will die here, Daenerys thought, unless there is more to him than I can see. “Is he still within?”

“Drinking with his knights.”

“Bring him to me. It is time he met my children.”

ADWD Daenerys IX

“How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands.” Dany smiled for him. “You fret too much, ser. I will have you beside me, what other protection do I need?”

“I am one old man, Your Grace.”

“Strong Belwas will be with me as well.”

“As you say.”

~

“Your Grace. We set the woman Meris free, as you commanded. Before she went, she asked to speak with you. I met with her instead. She claims this Tattered Prince meant to bring the Windblown over to your cause from the beginning. That he sent her here to treat with you secretly, but the Dornishmen unmasked them and betrayed them before she could make her own approach.”

Treachery on treachery, the queen thought wearily. Is there no end to it? “How much of this do you believe, ser?”

“Little and less, Your Grace, but those were her words.”

“Will they come over to us, if need be?”

“She says they will. But for a price.”

“Pay it.” Meereen needed iron, not gold.

“The Tattered Prince will want more than coin, Your Grace. Meris says that he wants Pentos.” “Pentos?” Her eyes narrowed. “How can I give him Pentos? It is half a world away.”

“He would be willing to wait, the woman Meris suggested. Until we march for Westeros.”

And if I never march for Westeros? “Pentos belongs to the Pentoshi. And Magister Illyrio is in Pentos. He who arranged my marriage to Khal Drogo and gave me my dragon eggs. Who sent me you, and Belwas, and Groleo. I owe him much and more. I will not repay that debt by giving his city to some sellsword. No.”

~

“A boy,” said Dany. “He was only a boy.”

“Six-and-ten,” Hizdahr insisted. “A man grown, who freely chose to risk his life for gold and glory. No children die today in Daznak’s, as my gentle queen in her wisdom has decreed.”

Another small victory. Perhaps I cannot make my people good, she told herself, but I should at least try to make them a little less bad. Daenerys would have prohibited contests between women as well, but Barsena Blackhair protested that she had as much right to risk her life as any man. The queen had also wished to forbid the follies, comic combats where cripples, dwarfs, and crones had at one another with cleavers, torches, and hammers (the more inept the fighters, the funnier the folly, it was thought), but Hizdahr said his people would love her more if she laughed with them, and argued that without such frolics, the cripples, dwarfs, and crones would starve. So Dany had relented.

It had been the custom to sentence criminals to the pits; that practice she agreed might resume, but only for certain crimes. “Murderers and rapers may be forced to fight, and all those who persist in slaving, but not thieves or debtors.”

Beasts were still allowed, though. Dany watched an elephant make short work of a pack of six red wolves. Next a bull was set against a bear in a bloody battle that left both animals torn and dying. “The flesh is not wasted,” said Hizdahr. “The butchers use the carcasses to make a healthful stew for the hungry. Any man who presents himself at the Gates of Fate may have a bowl.”

“A good law,” Dany said. You have so few of them. “We must make certain that this tradition is continued.”

The advice Dany received

ADWD Daenerys I

“Your Grace,” he said, “I fear your eunuchs are ill suited for the tasks you set them.”

Dany settled on her bench and wrapped her pelt about her shoulders once again. “The Unsullied are my finest warriors.”

“Soldiers, not warriors, if it please Your Grace. They were made for the battlefield, to stand shoulder to shoulder behind their shields with their spears thrust out before them. Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation … not to unravel secrets or ask questions.”

~

“The Mother of Dragons must don the tokar or be forever hated,” warned the Green Grace, Galazza Galare.

~

“Your Grace has not asked for my counsel,” said Skahaz Shavepate, “but I say that blood must pay for blood. Take one man from each of the families I have named and kill him. The next time one of yours is slain, take two from each great House and kill them both. There will not be a third murder.”

~

Reznak squealed in distress. “Noooo … gentle queen, such savagery would bring down the ire of the gods. We will find the murderers, I promise you, and when we do they will prove to be baseborn filth, you shall see.”

~

“Your Magnificence,” whispered Reznak mo Reznak in her ear, “it is customary for the city to claim one-tenth of all the profits from the fighting pits, after expenses, as a tax. That coin might be put to many noble uses.”

~

Reznak and the Green Grace had been urging Dany to take a Meereenese noble for her husband, to reconcile the city to her rule. [...] The Shavepate had offered to set aside his wife for her, but the notion made her shudder. Hizdahr at least knew how to smile.

~

Grazdan, she had been forewarned, was a cousin of the Green Grace, whose support she had found invaluable. The priestess was a voice for peace, acceptance, and obedience to lawful authority. I can give her cousin a respectful hearing, whatever he desires.

~

“...Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?”

“No, Magnificence.” Reznak bowed. “Shall I send these rascals away, or will you want them scourged?”

ADWD Daenerys II

“Magnificence,” murmured Reznak mo Reznak, “we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills.”

“They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills.”

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

~

Dany grimaced. Even her own people would give no rest about the matter. Reznak mo Reznak stressed the coin to be made through taxes. The Green Grace said that reopening the pits would please the gods. The Shavepate felt it would win her support against the Sons of the Harpy. “Let them fight,” grunted Strong Belwas, who had once been a champion in the pits. Ser Barristan suggested a tourney instead; his orphans could ride at rings and fight a mêlée with blunted weapons, he said, a suggestion Dany knew was as hopeless as it was well-intentioned. It was blood the Meereenese yearned to see, not skill. Elsewise the fighting slaves would have worn armor. Only the little scribe Missandei seemed to share the queen’s misgivings.

~

"[...] Will you hear my friends? There are seven of them as well.” [...] They have come to add their voices to mine own, and ask Your Grace to let our fighting pits reopen.”

Dany knew his seven, by name if not by sight. All had been amongst the most famed of Meereen’s fighting slaves … and it had been the fighting slaves, freed from their shackles by her sewer rats, who led the uprising that won the city for her. She owed them a blood debt. “I will hear you,” she allowed.

One by one, each of them asked her to let the fighting pits reopen. “Why?” she demanded, when Ithoke had finished. “You are no longer slaves, doomed to die at a master’s whim. I freed you. Why should you wish to end your lives upon the scarlet sands?”

~

The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. “At least rip out his tongue. This man’s lie could destroy us all, Magnificence.”

ADWD Daenerys III

“Daenerys, let me be honest with you, as befits a friend. You will not make Meereen rich and fat and peaceful. You will only bring it to destruction, as you did Astapor. You are aware that there was battle joined at the Horns of Hazzat? The Butcher King has fled back to his palace, his new Unsullied running at his heels.”

“This is known.” Brown Ben Plumm had sent back word of the battle from the field. “The Yunkai’i have bought themselves new sellswords, and two legions from New Ghis fought beside them.”

“Two will soon become four, then ten. And Yunkish envoys have been sent to Myr and Volantis to hire more blades. The Company of the Cat, the Long Lances, the Windblown. Some say that the Wise Masters have bought the Golden Company as well.”

[...]“I have sellswords too.”

“Two companies. The Yunkai’i will send twenty against you if they must. And when they march, they will not march alone. Tolos and Mantarys have agreed to an alliance.”

[...] “And whilst you are razing Yunkai, my sweet, Meereen shall rise behind you. Do not close your eyes to your peril, Daenerys. Your eunuchs are fine soldiers, but they are too few to match the hosts that Yunkai will send against you, once Astapor has fallen.”

[...] “Bedslaves, barbers, and brickmakers win no battles.”

[...] “Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos.”

~

“Of him, little and less. These ships, though … Your Grace, with these ships we might be home before year’s end.” [...]

“If they were so unseaworthy, they could not have crossed the sea from Qarth,” Ser Barristan pointed out, “but Your Grace was wise to insist upon inspection. I will take Admiral Groleo to the galleys at first light with his captains and two score of his sailors. We can crawl over every inch of those ships.”

~

Ser Barristan went to one knee before her. “My queen, your realm has need of you. You are not wanted here, but in Westeros men will flock to your banners by the thousands, great lords and noble knights. ‘She is come,’ they will shout to one another, in glad voices. ‘Prince Rhaegar’s sister has come home at last.’”

“If they love me so much, they will wait for me.”

~

“My lord, I will gladly have those ships, but I cannot give you the promise that you ask.” She took his hand. “Give me the galleys, and I swear that Qarth will have the friendship of Meereen until the stars go out. Let me trade with them, and you will have a good part of the profits.”

Xaro’s glad smile died upon his lips. “What are you saying? Are you telling me you will not go?”

“I cannot go.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“The Shavepate would feed them to your dragons, it is said. A life for a life. For every Brazen Beast cut down, he would have a child die.”

Dany pushed her food about her plate. She dare not glance over to where Grazhar and Qezza stood, for fear that she might cry. The Shavepate has a harder heart than mine. They had fought about the hostages half a dozen times. “The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.”

~

“Then heed me now and marry.”

“Ah.” Dany had been expecting this.

~

“I am sworn to serve Your Grace, and to keep you safe from harm wherever you may go. My place is by your side, whether here or in King’s Landing … but your place is back in Westeros, upon the Iron Throne that was your father’s. The Seven Kingdoms will never accept Hizdahr zo Loraq as king.”

~

“Attack,” he said at once. “A man surrounded by foes cannot defend himself. Try, and the axe will take you in the back whilst you are parrying the sword. No. When faced with many enemies, choose the weakest, kill him, ride over him, and escape.”

[...] “You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?”

“Your own subjects would gladly slaughter you.”

He had been so long away, Dany had almost forgotten what he was. Sellswords were treacherous by nature, she reminded herself. Fickle, faithless, brutal. He will never be more than he is. He will never be the stuff of kings. “The pyramids are strong,” she explained to him. “We could take them only at great cost. The moment we attack one the others will rise against us.”

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?”

“Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?”

“This queen is.”

Daario shrugged. “Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

ADWD Daenerys V

Her admiral’s counsel had proved worse than useless. “Let them see your dragons,” Groleo said. “Let the Yunkishmen have a taste of fire, and the trade will flow again.”

“Those ships are strangling us, and all my admiral can do is talk of dragons,” Dany said. “You are my admiral, are you not?”

“An admiral without ships.”

“Build ships.”

“Warships cannot be made from brick. The slavers burned every stand of timber within twenty leagues of here.”

“Then ride out two-and-twenty leagues. I will give you wagons, workers, mules, whatever you require.”

“I am a sailor, not a shipwright. I was sent to fetch Your Grace back to Pentos. Instead you brought us here and tore my Saduleon to pieces for some nails and scraps of wood. I will never see her like again. I may never see my home again, nor my old wife. It was not me who refused the ships this Daxos offered. I cannot fight the Qartheen with fishing boats.”

[...] “There must be something we can do.”

“Aye, and I’ve told you what. These ships are made of rope and pitch and canvas, of Qohorik pine and teak from Sothoros, old oak from Great Norvos, yew and ash and spruce. Wood, Your Grace. Wood burns. The dragons—”

“I will hear no more about my dragons. Leave me. Go pray to your Pentoshi gods for a storm to sink our foes.”

~

“And how long since the last murder?”

“Six-and-twenty days.” The Shavepate’s eyes brimmed with fury. It had been his notion to have the Brazen Beasts follow her betrothed and take note of all his actions.

“So far Hizdahr has made good on his promises.”

“How? The Sons of the Harpy have put down their knives, but why? Because the noble Hizdahr asked sweetly? He is one of them, I tell you. That’s why they obey him. He may well be the Harpy.”

“If there is a Harpy.” Skahaz was convinced that somewhere in Meereen the Sons of the Harpy had a highborn overlord, a secret general commanding an army of shadows.

~

“If he is not the Harpy, he knows him. I can find the truth of that easy enough. Give me your leave to put Hizdahr to the question, and I will bring you a confession.”

“[...] The Great Master Hizdahr plays Your Worship for a fool. Do you want a serpent in your bed?”

~

Skahaz drew a parchment scroll from his sleeve. “Your Worship should have a look at this. A list of all the Meereenese ships in the blockade, with their captains. Great Masters all.”

Dany studied the scroll. All the ruling families of Meereen were named: Hazkar, Merreq, Quazzar, Zhak, Rhazdar, Ghazeen, Pahl, even Reznak and Loraq. “What am I to do with a list of names?”

“Every man on that list has kin within the city. Sons and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers. Let my Brazen Beasts seize them. Their lives will win you back those ships.”

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.”

~

“Mouths on feet. And sick, you say?” Reznak wrung his hands. “Your Worship must not allow them in the city.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “I’m no maester, mind you, but I know you got to keep the bad apples from the good.”

~

“Them, and dragons,” said Brown Ben Plumm, with a grin.

“In the pit, in chains,” wailed Reznak mo Reznak. “What good are dragons that cannot be controlled? Even the Unsullied grow fearful when they must open the doors to feed them.”

~

“If there’s no dragons in the balance, well … we should leave before them Yunkish bastards close the trap … only first, make the slavers pay to see our backs. They pay the khals to leave their cities be, why not us? Sell Meereen back to them and start west with wagons full o’ gold and gems and such.”

~

“I defeated the Yunkai’i before. I will defeat them again. Where, though? How?”

“You mean to take the field?” The Shavepate’s voice was thick with disbelief. “That would be folly. Our walls are taller and thicker than the walls of Astapor, and our defenders are more valiant. The Yunkai’i will not take this city easily.”

Ser Barristan disagreed. “I do not think we should allow them to invest us. Theirs is a patchwork host at best. These slavers are no soldiers. If we take them unawares …”

“Small chance of that,” the Shavepate said. “The Yunkai’i have many friends inside the city. They will know.”

~

“Your Grace, I have known the bloody flux to destroy whole armies when left to spread unchecked. The seneschal is right. We cannot have the Astapori in Meereen.”

~

“What do you counsel, ser?”

“Battle,” said Ser Barristan. “Meereen is overcrowded and full of hungry mouths, and you have too many enemies within. We cannot long withstand a siege, I fear. Let me meet the foe as he comes north, on ground of my own choosing.”

ADWD Daenerys VI

“I would feel better if Your Grace would return to the city.” The many-colored brick walls of Meereen were half a mile back. “The bloody flux has been the bane of every army since the Dawn Age. Let us distribute the food, Your Grace.”

~

It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved.

~

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan, “the Unsullied are your best fighters. We dare not loose this plague amongst them. Let the Astapori bury their own dead.”

“They are too feeble,” said Symon Stripeback.

Dany said, “More food might make them stronger.”

Symon shook his head. “Food should not be wasted on the dying, Your Worship. We do not have enough to feed the living.”

~

“If we were to share our food equally …”

“… the Astapori would eat through their portion in days, and we would have that much less for the siege.”

~

“You should not linger here overlong, Your Grace. The Astapori are being fed, as you commanded. There’s no more we can do for the poor wretches. We should repair back to the city.”

~

“But,” said Reznak mo Reznak, blinking, “but you must, Your Worship. Before a marriage it is traditional for the women of the man’s house to examine the bride’s womb and, ah … her female parts. To ascertain that they are well formed and, ah …”

“… fertile,” finished Galazza Galare. “An ancient ritual, Your Radiance. Three Graces shall be present to witness the examination and say the proper prayers.”

“Yes,” said Reznak, “and afterward there is a special cake. A women’s cake, baked only for betrothals. Men are not allowed to taste it. I am told it is delicious. Magical.”

And if my womb is withered and my female parts accursed, is there a special cake for that as well?

~

“Magnificence, you do not understand,” protested Reznak. “The washing of the feet is hallowed by tradition. It signifies that you shall be your husband’s handmaid. The wedding garb is fraught with meaning too. The bride is dressed in dark red veils above a tokar of white silk, fringed with baby pearls.”

The queen of the rabbits must not be wed without her floppy ears. “All those pearls will make me rattle when I walk.”

“The pearls symbolize fertility. The more pearls Your Worship wears, the more healthy children she will bear.”

~

“If we should wed by Westerosi rites ...”

“The gods of Ghis would deem it no true union.” Galazza Galare’s face was hidden behind a veil of green silk. Only her eyes showed, green and wise and sad. “In the eyes of the city you would be the noble Hizdahr’s concubine, not his lawful wedded wife. Your children would be bastards. Your Worship must marry Hizdahr in the Temple of the Graces, with all the nobility of Meereen on hand to bear witness to your union.”

~

“One more small matter, Your Worship,” said Reznak. “To celebrate your nuptials, it would be most fitting if you would allow the fighting pits to open once again. It would be your wedding gift to Hizdahr and to your loving people, a sign that you had embraced the ancient ways and customs of Meereen.”

“And most pleasing to the gods as well,” the Green Grace added in her soft and kindly voice.

A bride price paid in blood. Daenerys was weary of fighting this battle. Even Ser Barristan did not think she could win. “No ruler can make a people good,” Selmy had told her. “Baelor the Blessed prayed and fasted and built the Seven as splendid a temple as any gods could wish for, yet he could not put an end to war and want.” A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself.

ADWD Daenerys VII

“...Will you hold court today?”

“No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.”

“Some are his, some are yours. The ones you freed.”

“Are you chiding me?”

“The ones you call your children. They want their mother.”

“You are. You are chiding me.”

“Only a little, bright heart. Will you come hold court?”

“After my wedding, perhaps. After the peace.”

“This after that you speak of never comes. You should hold court. My new men do not believe that you are real. The ones who came over from the Windblown. Bred and born in Westeros, most of them, full of tales about Targaryens. They want to see one with their own eyes.[”]

~

“This changes everything,” the old knight said.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“Bloodbeard.” Ser Barristan’s frown deepened. “If it please Your Grace, we want no part of him. Your Grace is too young to remember the Ninepenny Kings, but this Bloodbeard is cut from the same savage cloth. There is no honor in him, only hunger … for gold, for glory, for blood.”

“You know more of such men than me, ser.” If Bloodbeard might be truly the most dishonorable and greedy of the sellswords, he might be the easiest to sway, but she was loath to go against Ser Barristan’s counsel in such matters.

~

“As you command. Though … Your Grace, if I may be so bold, there is another road …”

“The Dornish road?” Dany sighed. The three Dornishmen had been at the feast, as befit Prince Quentyn’s rank, though Reznak had taken care to seat them as far as possible from her husband. Hizdahr did not seem to be of a jealous nature, but no man would be pleased by the presence of a rival suitor near his new bride. “The boy seems pleasant and well spoken, but …”

“House Martell is ancient and noble, and has been a leal friend to House Targaryen for more than a century, Your Grace. I had the honor of serving with Prince Quentyn’s greatuncle in your father’s seven. Prince Lewyn was as valiant a brother-in-arms as any man could wish for. Quentyn Martell is of the same blood, if it please Your Grace.”

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai’i? If he had come with a fleet …”

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever. “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.”

“Dornishmen are notoriously stubborn, Your Grace. Prince Quentyn’s forebears fought your own for the better part of two hundred years. He will not go without you.”

Then he will die here, Daenerys thought, unless there is more to him than I can see.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“I would be happier if you had Unsullied guards about you today, Your Grace,” the old knight said, as Hizdahr went to greet his cousin. “Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.” And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

“And untried they shall remain unless we try them.”

“A mask can hide many things, Your Grace. Is the man behind the owl mask the same owl who guarded you yesterday and the day before? How can we know?”

~

Ser Barristan glanced uneasily to left and right. Ghiscari faces were visible on the terraces, looking down with cool and unsympathetic eyes. “Your Grace, I do not like this halt. This may be some trap. The Sons of the Harpy—”

“—have been tamed,” declared Hizdahr zo Loraq. “Why should they seek to harm my queen when she has taken me for her king and consort? Now help that man, as my sweet queen has commanded.”

~

Daenerys would have prohibited contests between women as well, but Barsena Blackhair protested that she had as much right to risk her life as any man. The queen had also wished to forbid the follies, comic combats where cripples, dwarfs, and crones had at one another with cleavers, torches, and hammers (the more inept the fighters, the funnier the folly, it was thought), but Hizdahr said his people would love her more if she laughed with them, and argued that without such frolics, the cripples, dwarfs, and crones would starve. So Dany had relented.

[maddie-grove]

Little Book Review: The Music of What Happens

Author: Bill Konigsberg.

Publication Date: 2019.

Genre: Contemporary YA.

Premise: Confident and athletic, seventeen-year-old Max seems to have it all figured out, but he’s unraveling inside thanks to a recent trauma. Self-conscious and a self-described “emo,” Max’s classmate Jordan doesn’t seem to have any of his stuff together, but he’s essentially parenting his volatile widowed mother. When Jordan’s mom finds herself unable to cope with running her late husband’s food truck, she impulsively offers a job to Max, who almost as impulsively agrees. Jordan and Max are left alone to run a food truck together, which promises to be difficult, especially given that they have nothing in common...or do they???? 

Thoughts: I really enjoyed this book, which I more or less randomly picked up on Libby, and the main reason is that Konigsberg balances the two protagonists so well. So often in love stories, one character is the protagonist and the other is the love interest, or one character’s problems are taken much more seriously than the other’s, or one character is presented in a far more sympathetic light than the other. None of these things are inherently wrong, especially if the story isn’t primarily a romance, but I think the most top-tier satisfying romances strike a pretty even balance. The Music of What Happens is a definite two-hander, where both protagonists have plenty of room to process their feelings about a particularly rough summer in their lives. Konigsberg also prevents the protagonists from being too bad or too good. Max’s easygoing, blithe attitude is charming in most situations, for example, but his constant reliance on it is both psychologically damaging to him and genuinely distressing to his loved ones. And Jordan is sympathetic as a bright, caring kid who wants to help his mom, but he’s agonizingly self-conscious. Also, Jordan and Max are only okay at running a food truck, although they become pretty good at it once Max’s excellent mother takes pity on them and helps them figure out the paperwork. I found this refreshing, because it’s actually pretty hard to run a business, and there’s a reason seventeen-year-olds aren’t generally expected to do it by themselves.

Konigsberg also does a great job exploring the protagonists’ similarities and differences. Jordan is an extremely online white kid from an financially and emotionally unstable home, who only hangs out with girls (specifically, two sardonic straight girls) and has mostly “feminine” interests; Max is a bro-ish, solidly middle-class biracial kid (Latina mom, white dad) who only hangs out with other guys (specifically, two block-headed straight jocks) and likes sports and video games. But they also have much more in common than they realize at first. They’re both gay, they’re both out to their parents and close friends but not the general public, and they both know what it’s like to have a parent who abdicates their responsibilities. (As excellent as Max’s mom is, his dad is an emotionally immature lout who clearly loves his son, yet won’t refrain from spewing toxic ideas about masculinity or pick up on some pretty alarming distress signals.) Even before their relationship becomes romantic, Max and Jordan are pleasantly surprised at how nice it is to finally have a gay friend. There’s also a lot of joy in how they get to know and appreciate someone who’s different from them in many ways. There’s a lot of joy in this novel in general: the joys of food, and rewarding work, and giving to others, and (of course) first love.

Finally, I like the organic way Konigsberg deals with serious issues (including toxic expectations of masculinity, sexual assault, racism, child neglect, and addiction). Although there are frank discussions over, say, white privilege, or the dangers of bottling up your emotions until you die because your dad told you men should do that, there’s no issues-dump (i.e., no character’s dialogue seems to have been abruptly replaced by a helpful pamphlet or a sociology text). Characters talk about issues because they naturally care about things that affect them or their loved ones; the fact that the reader may learn something is secondary. I also really appreciate the handling of the sexual assault, a creepy and dehumanizing affair that Max agonizes “wasn’t that bad” or “didn’t count” because the rapist didn’t use overt physical force or drugs and acted like what he was doing was okay. 

Hot Goodreads Take: The negative reviews mostly consist of people finding the characters annoying or unlikable. I find these comments annoying, because I like the characters and find their flaws interesting, but I realize that this is subjective, and that we all have the right to dislike whatever characters we want. Hating Jordan for not being that good or focused at running a food truck seems pretty unfair, though. Again, there’s a reason seventeen-year-olds aren’t usually given the primary responsibility for a food truck. And hating him for resenting his mother just seems callous. Yes, she’s mentally ill, and that’s in no way her fault, but he still has the right to feel angry with her and need some space from her after she neglected and lied to him for several years.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/23/2019: FEMALE PRISONER SCORPION - BEAST STABLE

I’m not sure that I made the right choice by including this film in my blogtober program. A fugitive thriller with women’s prison and yakuza elements, BEAST STABLE doesn’t seem very horrific on its face. However, this third installation in the Female Prisoner Scorpion series (and the last by visionary director Shunya Ito) is also the most visceral and intimate. Its relative lack of action movie bravado shifts the focus from matters of the spirit to those of the body, the appalling details of which made me ask myself whether I didn’t consider this a horror movie after all. My conclusions are not very firm, but the debate is worth having.

During notorious convict Sasori (”Scorpion”)/Nami Matsushida’s latest escape, she runs afoul of the relentless Detective Kondo (Mikio Narita) on the subway, who no sooner cuffs her than loses his arm to her blade. This produces some of my favorite images from the whole hallucinatory series, with Matsu racing through the streets with the severed limb flailing behind her to the unforgettable sounds of star Meiko Kaji’s theme song “Urami Bushi”. In her flight to a shanty town on the outskirts of the city, she meets a young prostitute named Yuki (Yayoi Watanabe) in a most outrageous fashion. Yuki lies on her back in a cemetery, clutching bills from the john who left her there, and gazing vacantly at the stars. When a strange sound draws her attention, she finds herself locking eyes with the feral Matsu, who crouches behind a tombstone with the severed arm in her mouth, scraping away at the handcuff chain. The strange gothic horror of this scene only scratches the surface of how weird BEAST STABLE will become.

Yuki is an especially desperate character whose pitiful lot justifies the trouble that she makes for Matsu. A poor prostitute who is virtually enslaved to her brain damaged brother, she must keep his base instincts in check only by submitting to his every sexual whim. When Yuki chases after Matsu, begging to be freed from this nightmare, she unwittingly attracts the attention of the local mob, including a female pimp with a penchant for back alley abortions. The crow-obsessed crook Katsu, who might as well be a Batman villain (played by Reisen Ri, who has powerful Karen Black vibes) hatches a plot to take out Matsu, but this falls apart when Matsu starts slashing her way through the gang’s ranks. Rather than confront her, Katsu foolishly opts for the safety of prison--Matsu’s home turf, where she is able to exact a diabolical revenge that belongs more in a giallo than a standard issue women’s prison movie. 

BEAST STABLE is often as beautiful as either of its two predecessors, which are generally considered to be superior; the dreamy rain of fire produced when Yuki searches for Matsu by dropping matches into the sewer is not to be missed. Admittedly the other films have a more ethereal, allegorical quality, but BEAST STABLE holds its own in terms of being potently disturbing. Where we previously found female criminality presented in a sort of heroic light, aimed at the dissolution of the corrupt prison system and the punishment of hypocrites, here women are metaphorically imprisoned in maddeningly hopeless situations. Yuki is unable to emotionally separate herself from her rapist brother, as she is carrying his baby to term--even after being raped with a golf club by Katsu for intruding on the pimp’s territory. When one of Katsu’s colleagues sets his sights on Matsu, the thug’s distraught girlfriend kills him by virtually boiling him alive. Trapped in Katsu’s bird cage, Matsu escapes by retrieving a scalpel from the cold grip of a prostitute who died as a result of a horrifying abortion. Nowhere are the courageous, castrating antiheroes of FEMALE PRISONER 701: SCORPION or JAILHOUSE 4. In BEAST STABLE, we have only Matsu grimly following a trail of victims to the film’s hard won conclusion.

I am left trying to figure out if I can create a reasonable distinction between horror and pure exploitation, at least in this case. My first clue lies in the film’s profound sadness, which first appears in the image of the recently befouled Yuki, lying fully clothed in a cemetery like a discarded corpse. Apparently, I think that despair is an important element in horror. It would be pretty difficult for anyone other than the most serious degenerates to get it up for this movie, with its relentless agonies and heavy focus on abortion. There is no token lesbianism or nude calisthenics to brighten the mood now and again, and at that, the violence is rarely political. In the former films, Matsu and her defacto acolytes rage against authorities who would break their spirits, but in BEAST STABLE the violence is personal and intimate rather than institutional, and few characters are afforded a majestic martyrdom as a way out. SCORPION and JAILHOUSE 41 pit the anonymizing degradation of jail against the glories of anarchy and vengeance, but BEAST STABLE reaffirms that not much good awaits women beyond prison bars.

This line of thinking leads me to indulge in a personal note. I was introduced to this series while still in college, by a person who I would later categorize as a total abuser. Though he was highly intelligent and charismatic in an offbeat way, he dated exclusively much younger women--a sure sign of someone avoiding the sound judgment of his peers--and there was some evidence of his having that iffy white guy preference for asian girls. He lured in women who were too young or inexperienced to know better by flaunting his inner sensitivity and trauma, and then once he had someone (or more than one person) on the hook, he rewarded her by being relentlessly dishonest and unfaithful, as if to teach her a lesson for sympathizing with him. To my knowledge, he had not been a women’s studies major in his school days, but he might as well have been, as most of his film discussion came through a feminist filter. He analyzed sleazy genre fare to within an inch of its life, and seemed to delight in making remarks like that the infamous borderline pornographic slasher movie THE TOOLBOX MURDERS “is dangerous and should not be seen.” This all might sound like the typical calculation of a basic predator, but having been his unfortunate friend for several years, I truly believe that he believed his own bullshit. His manic depressive behavior belied little self-reflection, and he would sometimes make tearful statements that bordered on magical thinking, about how “something” unnameable about him drove women insane. He seemed genuinely affronted by his long suffering girlfriend’s suggestion that he might be a misogynist, even though he admitted to hitting her during at least one argument. (A fact that he naturally presented as something that should make me feel sorry for him, in his epic turmoil) He showed no awareness of how suspicious it might be to some people, that he voraciously took in any movie starring teenage girls or childlike women; even though I held his opinion in the highest regard for years, I had to learn to start ignoring him when he recommended these movies, because whether he was right about their actual quality was a complete crap shoot. 

The point that I’m coming to is that he was absolutely obsessed with the character of Sasori. He believed that the JAILHOUSE 41 was one of, if not The greatest movie of all time, and both his email address and user image related to her. The FEMALE PRISONER SCORPION series represented the pinnacle of his absolute favorite thing, which was raped virgins returning for revenge. Back when I knew him, I took this to be plain old good taste; today, I associate it obliquely with an attitude I sense a lot on the political right. Without giving this remotely the space that it would take more me to fully prove my point, I’ll just say that part of what motivates conservatives and bigots is the profound, primal, unconscious fear that those they have repressed will come back to avenge themselves. There’s a subaural signal in right wing rhetoric that I always hear beyond their empty circuitous logic, that simply says “We’ve done a lot of bad things to you, and by virtue of that, now we have reason to fear that you will do those same things to us, given the slightest chance.” Since that time, I have become acquainted with more men like this than I would have preferred to. Not the scheming women’s studies serial rapists, but  the sulking intellectuals whose unshakable belief in their own nobility--their certainty that they are too smart to be bigots--prevents them from fully acknowledging their abusive, misogynist, and frankly sometimes pedophilic attitudes toward women. These guys vocally obsess over the likes of Lydia Lunch and Kim Gordon and Sasha Grey and Asia Argento et al, and boast about their literacy in matters of gender and sexuality, only to routinely accumulate the most submissive and virginal partners they can find, and blame these girls for all of their personal problems for as long as they stick around. The FEMALE CONVICT SCORPION movies are great, both in terms of formal artistry and metaphor for the female experience. I would love to believe in the specialness of men who relate so openly to characters like Matsu, but because of my majority experience, I’m afraid I tend to find them all guilty until proven innocent.