apokeaday

[cent-scratchnsniff]

it was just going to be a few warmup doodles but then she infected the rest of the page like the ever eternal and spreading spores. hod!!! hod. hod :)

[endless-ineffabilities]

in the shadow of your heart (part two of two)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader

requested by anon: inspired by the plot of the movie Flipped, where the reader openly pines for Daemon, but he always brushes her off until one day, she stops bothering him.

word count: 11.2k ▪︎ part one ▪︎ masterlist

themes: pining, angst, language, Daemon being Daemon, slight Cregan Stark x f!reader, some smut (18+)

“Greetings, Prince Daemon.” Cregan Stark is the first to speak. His genial manner is something that draws everyone to him, warm and earnest. The Lord of the North is much beloved, and with good reason. As he assesses Prince Daemon, he easily notices the agitation in the prince’s stance. The confusion in his eyes. If Cregan also notices the subtle envy collecting in Daemon’s expression, he does not let it show.

“Lord Stark,” he saunters in your direction, slowly, like a predator who has finally cornered his prey. Taking in the competition like a practiced fighter.

“Lady Y/n.” He calls you by name, and you realize how much of a rarity it is. It’s always just You, a statement more than an endearment, or my little shadow. You still don’t know what to make of the latter. Shadow. Does that mean you are indispensable, a part of him he can never shake? Or does he see you as an unwanted presence?

“Daemon. How have you been, my prince?” An attempt at cordiality from you. You know Daemon doesn’t care much for such dialogue, but what else is there to say?

Why did you not show up at my nameday, like you promised?

Have you been finding comfort in Mysaria’s arms?     

Have I even crossed your mind, even once, or is my absence something that you welcome?

But you don’t make any of these thoughts heard. You don’t believe there would be a point. Besides, there is no need to air out your grievances whilst in the company of Cregan.

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me. I have roamed nearly every inch of the palace grounds, and I’ve only just found you. You have not come to see me as of late, either.”

“I was not aware that you were expecting me, my prince.”

He scoffs, hating how formal you were being. Was this a show you were putting on for the Stark boy? Where are your throwaway smiles and your playful quips? Your appreciative gaze, drinking him in as if it were always the first time?

Cregan comes to your rescue, “I’m afraid I may be to blame for taking up the lady’s time, Prince Daemon. She makes for excellent company, as I think you know. She’s kindly been showing me around King’s Landing.”

“You’ve been around King’s Landing before, Stark. We were not aware you have taken a particular interest in the ins and outs of the city, but we’d be more than happy to provide you with our best maester to tell you everything you need to know. I’m sure the lady has much better things to do with her time. Besides, after a while, you might like a change of scenery. One that she wouldn’t know how to provide.”

What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Of course, the first time you meet in a long while, Daemon has surely stored some kind words to tell you.

“Don’t worry, Daemon. I can assure you that we’ve been making good use of our time together,” you look at him directly, no longer bothering with the niceties. Daemon knows how you really are, after all. He’s seen you flustered, embarrassed, angry. Mostly, he’s seen you pining. Wanting. For him. You’ve always been open around him, not holding anything back. Daemon enjoyed your brazenness, so unlike the other frilly maidens who clamber for his attention. But what changed?

“If you don’t mind, Lord Stark, I’d like a moment alone with the lady.” Daemon readily meets your gaze, barely giving mind to Cregan, who is now halfway covering you from his vision, as if preparing to protect you from him should the need arise. The nerve of this fucking Northern Lord.

“Honour demands that I only leave if this is what the lady wishes, Prince Daemon.” Cregan declares, his voice steady.

Bloody Northerners and their honour. “I was not presenting you with a request, Stark. Try not to get on my nerve.”

“Alright,” you speak up, “it’s okay, Cregan. I’ll come find you later.”

Daemon notes the familiarity with which you addressed the Stark boy, and it doesn’t sit well with him. “Yes, run along, young wolf.” He doesn’t drop your gaze, doesn’t watch Cregan walk away.

So, he also does not notice Cregan throw you a comforting wink as he disappears from view, leaving you with Daemon on the rooftop. Daemon’s mood considered; this is probably for the best.

The air is thick with words unsaid, and while Daemon relaxes his stance, his face betrays a storm of emotion. Ones that he is not equipped to deal with. Jealousy? Unrequited yearning? Uncertainty? What can he possibly say that would be enough? So he settles for, “You look well, my shadow.”

“As do you, my prince. Enjoying the comforts of home, I’d hope?”

“Tell me this,” Daemon impatience flares, “why have I not seen you around? They used to be rare, the days in which you would not simply make your presence known to me.”

“That’s why I got to be called your shadow, was it not? That I was always following you around like a pest, driving you to irritation. There were moments wherein I could swear that I saw you grimace at my arrival - ”

“A pest?” He looks taken aback. He reaches for your arm, but you sidestep and fold your arms behind you, “Y/n, where is all this coming from?”

“I think you know quite well, Daemon.”

“Would it delight you to hear that I may have missed your company, no matter how unreasonably persistent it might have been?” Daemon’s smirk is dangerous, capable of breaking through your icy approach.

“Unreasonably persistent? Is this your way of making amends, my prince? You might need a lesson in tact from your markedly more diplomatic brother.”

“I was never one to bother with needless flattery. Unless directed at me, of course.” His smirk grows even wider, enjoying the resurgence of your familiar banter.

Your tone turns sour, almost angry even, one that Daemon has not heard before, “You promised that you would attend my nameday festivities, and yet you did not. I waited for you, like the stupid little shadow that you have deemed me to be, and for nothing. I don’t know why I even expected you to come, given what you clearly think of me.” Your voice breaks at the end, and it snags at Daemon’s heart.

“I did not think you cared much for such frivolities, and…well, I…”

“No, I did not. I don’t. I only cared whether you would be there, so that I might see you. So that you might greet me with the smug smirk of yours. So that you might even ask me for a dance,” you pace around Daemon, your mind lost in thought of what could have been, “But no matter. It’s all over and done with now. We can keep such nonsense in the past, Prince Daemon. You no longer need to waste your time with me.”

“Y/n,” he says your name with such clarity, such emotion, as he moves to narrow the space between the two of you, “I sincerely apologize if I was not there for your nameday. Had I thought that my presence would mean that much to you, then I surely would have come.”

That’s not enough, Daemon. That’s not what I need.

You notice the sincerity in his eyes as he continues, “I don’t want you to be cross with me. And… I don’t want you to think that I… think little of you. You are not. You are - ”

“You were like my sun, you know. My entire world revolved around you. You were in everything that I could see.” Your face morphs into a mixture of sadness, and longing, and acceptance. Daemon notes that you were speaking of things as if it were already in the past, and he does not like it at all.

He lets you continue, even though it pains him to see the turmoil in your expression, “Daemon, I… I thought about you when I woke, and when I went to bed. You were intoxicating… and fucking infuriating, because you clearly did not share the same sentiment when it came to me. I was simply there.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you fucking expect of me,” he counters, not willing to comprehend that your words can bring him to fold so quickly, “but you know exactly who I am. What I am, my shadow.”

“Did I not make it clear to you just how I felt?” You ask. Your gazes are locked and heated. The distance between you has narrowed, and he can feel your warm breath on his face. He notices the way your chest rises and falls, the slope of your breasts, the furrowing of your eyebrows which he finds endearing. You stand so close, an alluring distraction, nearly making him lose all train of thought.

“For fuck’s sake, of course. Everyone could see it!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

“And yet, it did not matter.”

“No, it matters - ” he pauses, looking away, “I just… don’t know…”

You straighten, “You know what, it’s perfectly fine, Daemon. Why were you looking for me?”

“I thought I already mentioned. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Whatever wrongs you believe I have done to you, it was never my intention. I do not wish to be rid of your presence. It does not…” When his eyes capture yours once again, you see the inner turmoil reflected within, “It does not feel right without you around… my shadow.”

You want so badly to take his hand as you had done so many times before, and reassure him that everything is fine. But Rhaenyra’s advice had struck you, so well that it rings true in your mind as you look at Daemon. “Make him hunger for you,” she had said, eyes glinting mischievously, “so that he may realize what it is he may be at risk of losing, if he does not get his act together. And, well, if he still does not treat you as you deserve, then surely someone else will.”

You would have chased Daemon to the ends of the Seven Kingdoms, but you can only pursue someone so far before you might tip over the edge of the world yourself.

“I understand, Daemon. I am not angry at you. Truthfully, I don’t think I could ever be.” You offer a comforting smile, but it does not reach your eyes.

“Very well, then. On the morrow, I shall once again conduct my training in the courtyard. I expect you to be there.”

When you narrow your eyes at his implication, he adds, softly, “I mean, I want you to be there.”

You smile, and echo his exact words from weeks ago, when you gave word to him about your festivities, “I’d be loathe to miss a good training display of yours, my prince. I’ll be there.”

There may be a lot more than needs to be said, that Daemon wants to say. But he cannot find the words. He is not even certain what it is that compelled him to seek you out today. Or if he is, he is not ready to face it yet.

“I shall take my leave, my prince,” you curtsy, “I’ll be seeing you.”

He watches as you walk away. He is covered in sunlight from where he stands, the wind gently blowing mild and pleasant. And yet he feels cold, and his spirit is strained, as if this unspoken stalemate between the two of you casts a gloom over his days. As if you had taken all warmth along with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon swings forcefully, toppling his opponent to the ground.

“Again!” He yells, “I thought you cunts are supposed to be decent fighters, at the very least. And yet even the whores in the Street of Silk might make for better competitors.”

Not one of his gold cloaks makes a move, and they all look at him warily. Their commander has been heated all morning, and they have taken the brunt of his rage.

The spectators have created a wider berth around him than usual, while they mostly whisper to each about the prince’s nasty temper.

One of the braver gold cloaks, Maron Tyrell, decides to approach him, “My prince, perhaps we should conclude our training exercise for today. The men are drained and wish to - ”

“We finish when I say so,” Daemon emphasizes every word in his displeasure, “not at your fucking heed.”

Maron persists, forgetting to mind the risk of talking back to Daemon when he is in this state, “We noticed that a certain Lady is not among the spectators, my prince. Your shadow, I think that is what you deem her to be, and rightfully so, I mean… don’t you think that actually made this morning’s activities more bearable, without her needlessly yapping at you at every-”

Maron does not get to finish his jibe about you, as Daemon pummels the young knight into the ground. His fist collides with Maron’s face, again and again, until he is pulled back by several of his struggling men.

“Prince Daemon!” A cacophony erupts around the courtyard – pleas for him to cease, gasps of shock and worry, even some callous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The rogue prince has assailed one of his very own men. One of his loyal devotees. An undignified act, even for the volatile prince.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Daemon squirms out of the grip of his men, and storms out of the courtyard, people parting like waves in his path. His knuckle is bruised and partially covered in Maron Tyrell’s blood. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care.

For what is a man without his shadow? He might as well just be gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lord Mathias Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, your Grace." A member of the Kingsguard announces the new arrival, his clear voice resounding in the throne room.

The imposing hall is nearly empty, apart from King Viserys who stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, several members of the Kingsguard, and his Hand, Lord Otto Hightower.

The elderly Tyrell walks in with a dignified air. There is a slight hunch in his posture, but his gaze is trained straight ahead. King Viserys meets him halfway, with a welcoming smile on his face, "My Lord Tyrell, what a pleasure this is, truly."

"My King," Mathias bows his head once, then looks at Viserys again, eager to finally make his appeal known, "I do hope my arrival is not untimely. It has been a while since we last convened, you and I."

"Not at all, Mathias," Viserys says, "I am always at your disposal for any important matter that you wish to bring to my attention, as I understand this is the case at present."

"Yes, well, let me begin by relaying my wife Lady Lenna's well wishes for you, my King. She feels honoured to have been a friend to your late wife Queen Aemma, and we only hope the best for your family."

Viserys nods amiably, accustomed to such flattering declarations from Lords and Ladies alike. He also knows by now that such, while potentially genuine, are usually followed by either a complaint or a petition. As if he was being softened up for what follows.

“Which is why it saddened me greatly to hear that a certain member of your family had attacked one of mine. The inducement of this remains beyond my understanding. My nephew, Maron, a member of your gold cloaks, is currently being attended to by our finest maesters, after suffering several injuries at the hands of Prince Daemon.”

“What?” Viserys’ friendly expression falls, “Daemon?” He looks toward Otto Hightower in hopes of some clarification.

“My King, we have just received word of this incident, and we were planning to discuss this in our council meeting on the morrow. The prince is required to attend, after all, which gives him a chance to elucidate his actions.” Otto explains placatingly.

“Daemon,” Viserys repeats his brother’s name, breathing it out like a curse. It was no longer any surprise to him to hear of such an act committed by his brother. He merely hoped that their occurrences would grow fewer and farther between.

“I knew you would understand the seriousness of this matter, my King. House Tyrell has, after all, always supported House Targaryen since the age of the Conqueror. All I want is for Prince Daemon to answer for what he had done to my nephew, in any way that you see fit.”

Viserys puts on his best placating smile, “Of course, Mathias. It shall be done. Now will that be all? I’m afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

The Lord of Highgarden does not fail to notice the poorly hidden irritation in the King’s face, and he is quick to be done with the formalities of making himself scarce, exchanging a few choice words before bowing and promptly leaving the throne room.

“Well?” Viserys looks around the throne room, addressing whoever might have answers, “where the fuck is he?”

Otto squirms where he stands, “I can send for him right away, your Grace.”

They will soon realize that Prince Daemon’s whereabouts will elude them that day, as he had taken refuge in the clandestine quarters of the Lady Mysaria after the incident in the courtyard. However, the usual pleasures will not be exchanged between the two. Daemon no longer possesses the eagerness to lose himself in his apparently favoured woman. Mysaria does not press on, letting the prince get some much-needed rest. She does take note of one name uttered from his lips as he succumbs into slumber. Yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council settle around the table, each one placing their round totem in front of them. The council meeting has begun.

Each Lord sits alert, ready to present their reports and findings for the week. Lord Corlys on the ongoing war in the Stepstones. Lord Beesbury on lowering the common tax for grain. Lord Lannister on arranging a play for the nobility. And so on. At the head of the table, however, their King does not appear to give off his usual air of graciousness. He leans to the side of his chair, routinely running his hand over his face in frustration.

Lord Beesbury speaks up, “Your Grace, shall we start with - ”

“Where is my brother?” Viserys’ voice is irate, his query directed at Lord Otto.

“We summoned him, your Grace, but he made it clear that he had other pressing matters to attend to.” Otto speaks slowly, clearly, in hopes that Viserys does not take his frustration out on him. “He mentioned having to meet with the Lady Y/n,” At this, Otto looks at your father across the table.

“My daughter?” Your father says, “I assure you, your Grace, I am not aware that she has any pressing matter with Prince Daemon. I would not even go so far to say that they are acquaintances.”

“Oh, Lord, you must know,” Tyland Lannister says, almost mockingly.

“Know what, my Lord?” your father asks, incredulous.

“Your daughter has been openly pining for the rogue prince. It’s common knowledge. She has not been shy about her affections, mind you,” Tyland smirks.

“I know nothing of this. My daughter has just begun a courtship with Lord Cregan Stark himself, and this I approve of. It would be unseemly for her to get involved with Prince Daemon in the way that you are insinuating.”

“What is the truth?” Viserys raises his voice, then turning to Otto, he adds, “Have you heard of this development?”

“I did not believe it to be consequential, your Grace. The prince has his share of admirers, after all.” Otto replies.

Viserys sighs heavily, thinking of how things will never just be simple when it comes to his brother. “Well, has he been receptive of the young lady’s affections?”

Lord Beesbury says, “The consensus has been that the prince has largely ignored them, your Grace.”

“Seven hells,” Viserys lets out a dry laugh in disbelief, “How come everyone knows of this matter except for me, the man in question’s own brother?”

“If I may respond to what Lord Beesbury just claimed, it does not seem that way. At least not anymore. Word has been circulating of yesterday’s incident, and apparently, the reason why Prince Daemon assaulted Maron Tyrell is because the latter brought up the subject of Lady y/n, and not in the nicest way.” Tyland says.

Lord Corlys intervenes, “Might we get on with more urgent business, lords?”

Viserys sits silently for a moment, letting all of the information sink in. He looks around the council table, baffled at the ridiculous scenario in front of him – the highest-ranking officials of the Seven Kingdoms prompted to engage in chitchat all because of this whole affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. “My lords,” he finally says, “Lord Corlys is right. We have better things to do with our time than to fucking gossip. I shall deal with my brother myself.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The same morning, in another corner of the sprawling castle, you stand in your chambers, arranging the books on the shelf. You have just gone on a stroll with Rhaenyra, and are just taking a short rest. You startle slightly when your lady-in-waiting Hestia walks in.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“To you as well, Hestia.” You smile in return.

“I have a message to relay, my lady,” she timidly says, “Earlier, when you had departed, Prince Daemon visited your chambers.”

You freeze. “Daemon?”

“Y-yes, my lady. I had walked in to change the linens, and he was already sitting there at your desk. Waiting for you, it seemed.”

“And? Did he mention anything to you?” You ask gently.

“He wants to meet you in the godswood, my lady. He said that he will anticipate you there at around noon.”

You note to yourself that noon is fast approaching. “Hmm. I see.” Hestia smiles comfortingly at you, and you can deduce that there is more that she wants to say.

“How did he seem, the prince, whilst he was here?” You engage her further, genuinely curious yourself.

“If I may be blunt, my lady, he seemed quite distressed. He appeared as if he was lacking in rest, and well… he really did seem eager to find you.”

You walk over to your chair and slump down in a dramatic huff, “Ah, it appears that I have found myself in quite the conundrum.”

Hestia smiles, following you, “What a conundrum, though, my lady. Prince Daemon and Lord Cregan vying for your hand? Nearly every eligible lady in all the kingdoms would feel envious of you.”

Your smile is wistful when you say, “It’s not quite the fairy tale that it seems, Hestia. I mean, you know how Prince Daemon is.”

“So it is Prince Daemon whom you favour?”

“What made you think so?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, my lady. It’s just that… he’s the one you chose to mention. His is always the name that you bring up, as opposed to Lord Cregan’s.”

Huh. I really must have been fixated on Daemon, haven’t I, if everyone is still of the impression that I want him, even with Cregan in the picture.

Do I want him?

“My lady?” Hestia’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” you clear your throat, and stand, “I think I have somewhere to be.”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?”

How could I ever not want him?

“Perhaps.” You look back at Hestia, eyes glinting in anticipation, before leaving your chambers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You walk through the hallways, still uncertain whether the godswood will be your destination. Whether Daemon will be your destination.

The weather is quite lovely anyway. Why not sit and enjoy some calm in the godswood? Deep down, you know that your reasoning, while sound, is a mere excuse for wanting to see Daemon.

Turning the corner, you see your father coming your way. He calls for you with a wave, and you rush toward him with a smile, “Good morrow, father.” You kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I was just heading to the godswood. Perhaps I shall take a book from the library and - ”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?” Your father's voice is stern, and you become nervous.

You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond. Your father continues, “This matter was brought to my attention, in the council meeting of all places! I felt like a bumbling fool. My own daughter, and I did not know.”

“You’re certainly not a fool, father. And - ”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Your brows furrow in frustration.

“This affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. Do you not have any mind for decency? How must this look? Cregan Stark is courting you, and here you are, running around with the rogue prince.” He speaks in hushed whispers, as if he is afraid of being overheard, but the anger in his tone can easily be detected.

“I am not sure what you heard, father, but I am not having an affair with Prince Daemon.” You lean back, also growing irate at his tone.

“Everyone knows, my child. I do know that you are intelligent, and that you mean well, but this - ”

“I was quite… smitten with him. Only that. But it is over now.”

“Is it? Then how come he apparently came to your defense yesterday, assailing Maron Tyrell when he spoke out of turn about you?”

“What?”

“Word has spread, and King Viserys has been saddled with the laborious task yet again of having to make amends on his brother’s behalf.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” You remember that you meant to visit the courtyard for his training, but instead opted to read with Cregan Stark in the library. You did not think Daemon would particularly mind, and truth be told, you wanted to give a taste of his own medicine. You made your mistake in believing that Daemon might approach it just like anyone else – with a reasonable amount of impatience and irritation. But of course, it’s Daemon.

You want to appease your father’s worries, so you say, “The next time I see Daemon, I shall make things clear. There will no longer be anything between him and I. Not that there ever was anything before.” You can’t help but look away sadly, but then your father pulls you in for a hug.

“I trust that you will do the right thing. Lord Cregan is a man of true honour and kindness. You deserve someone like him.”

“I know.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moments later, just before you make a turn into the open area of the godswood, someone catches you by the elbow.

“Hello, lass.” Cregan says. “I am happy to see you.”

“Cregan,” you attempt to hide your surprise with a smile, “ perhaps you were simply following me?”

“That idea did cross my mind, yes,” he jests in return, “but I’d much rather have you aware of my presence so you can indulge yourself in my undeniable charm.”

“Ever so humble, my Lord of the North.” You have grown accustomed to his witty quips, easily shared, making whoever he converses with comfortable. When you had mentioned it, he assured you however that the doting glint in his eyes is reserved for you only.

“Having a good day so far?” He draws you in close by the waist, his sincere gaze boring into yours.

“Very much so, thank you. I was just about to, uhm, spend some time in the godswood.”

“I shall accompany you then, my lady, if you would allow me.”

“Oh, I - ”

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice. Daemon has found you. “I thought I heard you.”

“Ah, Prince Daemon, ever a pleasure.” Cregan loosens his hold on you, but he does not let go. You notice Daemon’s eyes draw downward to Cregan’s arm around your waist, and his jaw clenches.

“Oh, I wish I could say the same, young wolf. But I have been waiting in the godswood for the Lady Y/n, and I can see that you are taking up her precious time. Keeping her from me.” Daemon spits the final words, making his annoyance clear.

“Daemon, I was just about to come see you,” you say.

“I thought you were going to spend time in the godswood?” Cregan looks at you confused.

“Yes, she is,” Daemon chimes in, “with me.”

“Simply to talk.” You start to become anxious with how the two men are sizing each other up, cold expressions plastered on their faces.

“No matter,” Cregan shrugs, “might I accompany you too, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Daemon speak at the same instant, your contrasting responses putting a pause on the whole exchange. The silence is filled with tension, with Daemon staring at you intently. A slight smirk rests on his lips, and you can tell, he is enjoying this. He takes pleasure in being able to get under your skin.

You might be right, but in that moment, Daemon’s mind also wanders to the smoothness of your skin. The fire in your eyes. His stare grazes your decolletage, exposed by your dress, the very same dress he had disparaged weeks prior. How foolish of me. Anything she wears is immediately more refined as a result. Although I’d much see rather that dress on the fucking floor.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there is still something between the two of you.” Cregan’s voice cuts through the silence. When you turn to him questioningly, he explains, “I have heard whispers here and there about a possible mutual affection that you share.”

“Prince Daemon and I are merely friends,” you clarify, “and even this I have reason to doubt.” You glare at Daemon, imploring him to not cross the line.

“We are friends,” Daemon grits his teeth, “come with me, Y/n.”

You continue to challengingly stare at Daemon, and any passer-by would immediately feel the tension. They would also be quick to assume that the connection lies between yourself and Daemon, not Cregan. Not that you would be willing to admit it straightaway.

“Forget about the godswood,” you look between both men, “Rhaenyra tells me of a travelling theatre troupe that will be conducting their show in the Red Keep this afternoon. I think I fancy heading over and seeing it for myself.”

You start to walk away, not paying mind to either the dragon or the wolf.

I’m done with this bickering. Let them follow me if they wish.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a short period of deliberating and preparing, you find yourself walking the streets of the Red Keep, with Daemon walking close to one side and Cregan to the other.

Hestia follows suit, conversing with Cregan’s young squire, Pod. You had looked back to her to give a comforting smile, and you could tell that she was slightly intimidated by the member of the Kingsguard accompanying your little group. The knight is a looming figure of hunkering armour, walking close behind her and Pod.

Daemon and Cregan both offered an arm for you to hold onto at the start of your stroll, but you avoided the pain of choosing by clasping your hands in front of you, walking forward with your head held high.

You reach the city centre, and Cregan points to a fountain in the middle of the plaza. “I remember when you took me there, darling. We had the most pleasant afternoon.”

Daemon snorts upon hearing that, “The bloody fountain?”

Pod comes up to speak with Cregan about the tasks he has to fulfill for the day, demanding his attention, and they shuffle to the side in discussion.

“Yes, Daemon, the bloody fountain. We sat, had the best lemon cakes, and conversed with the common folk. Activities that are not to your taste, I’m sure,” you matched his sardonic inflection.

“I thought you would have preferred mulberry tarts,” Daemon responds, matter-of-factly.

Your lips part in mild surprise. “How could you have guessed that?”

“You might have mentioned it once, weeks ago.”

“Huh.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. So he does listen to me.

You had the impression that all those times when you prattled in his ear, your words would simply dissolve into air. Like an incessant tune droning on in the background. Daemon always looked as if he was pondering some other more important thought.

“You continue to surprise me, Daemon.”

“And you never fail to pleasantly disrupt my life at every turn,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“Since you used the word pleasantly then I shall assume that it’s a good thing. But disrupt? How so?”

He kicks a pebble across the cobblestones, lost in thought, “This is the last thing that I would have ever expected, my shadow.”

You continue to look at him in suspense, your heart thudding in your chest. Try as you might, Daemon still has that effect on you.

He continues, “I never expected to… feel this… about you.”

“Feel what?” He turns to you, and softens at the sight of your innocent expression, your eyes wide and glistening. You’ve always gazed at him in such an open and caring manner, unaffected by the reality of his reputation. Very much unlike other people, who are almost invariably wary or distrustful when dealing with him. He has accepted that he needs someone like you. But recently, it became clearer. He only needed you.

“Prince Daemon,” a familiar soft, accented voice calls out.

The spell is broken. You turn toward the new arrival. The lady Mysaria.

“Good day, my lady,” you greet her reluctantly. You badly wish to move close to Cregan and engage him in conversation, just so you would not be privy to the interaction between Daemon and Mysaria, but something keeps you rooted in place.

“Good day to you as well, lady Y/n.”

“Have you come to watch the performance?” you tilt your head toward the stage that is being set up on one side of the plaza.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for such frivolities at present, my lady,” she smiles thinly, before turning to Daemon, “I am glad I found you, my prince. I would have waited until you eventually came to see me again, but since you are here, I want to return this to you.”

She reaches out her hand, and in it lies an ornate ring, decorated with an exquisite blood-red ruby. An inscription in High Valyrian is carved on the band.

Daemon snatches it swiftly, “Right. Good eye.”

“I recognized this to be one of your Targaryen heirlooms. You must have dropped it when you spent the night with me.” She steps closer to him, caressing his arm.

Your heart sinks. What did you expect – that Daemon would ever commit to you? He has been making gestures that are unusual for him, giving you just the slightest hint of hope. And now, this.

He was right. You do know exactly who he is. What he is. The lady Mysaria can be taken as confirmation of this.

“Would you excuse me?” you clear your throat, and start to walk over to Cregan.

Daemon notices the drop in your spirits - in the frown that formed on your lips, and the way your shoulders scrunched forward. He knows that you are aware of him looking at you imploringly. You refuse to meet his gaze, and continue to ignore him as he stares daggers at your retreating figure.

Daemon shrugs Mysaria’s hold off his arm, taking a step back. He is not certain what to say, and Mysaria senses his agitation.

“You desire the lady Y/n,” she states, not a shred of doubt in her enticing voice.

“You know nothing of it,” Daemon spits defensively.

“You do. You want her. I can see it in your eyes,” Mysaria repeats, “It’s a novel thing, as you once told me that she is someone whom you merely tolerate.”

And I fucking wish I knew better. “I’ll be damned if I’m not capable of changing my mind.”

“Or perhaps you always wanted her, and you just were not aware of it? You did speak plenty of her even before,” she muses, as she knows that Daemon will not deny her keen eye for observation.

Daemon and Mysaria look over to you, as you stand with the rest of your group. You smile, and stroke Hestia’s back soothingly. Cregan leans over to you, and you laugh at whatever he has whispered.

Daemon sulks, hands firmly clasped in front of him. “Fucking Stark.”

“She wants you too, you know,” Mysaria smiles.

This piques Daemon’s attention, though his face remains sour, “Don’t toy with me. Perhaps she did, but now - ”

“She still does. In time, you will both see the truth of it all. Good fortune, Prince Daemon.” she walks away, her long tresses blowing softly in the breeze, but pauses and turns halfway, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Daemon nods once, feeling hopeful anew.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

One brisk morning, you sit peacefully in the gardens, a new book in your hands. You sit comfortably, your legs tucked underneath you on the seat. Daemon once remarked of how he liked the careless way with which you sit, to which you rolled your eyes, “Don’t mock me, Daemon. My father has scolded me plenty about how I don’t sit like a proper lady.”

Daemon just snickered at that, and playfully pulled at your ankle. That was one of your more amicable exchanges. Even now, your mind trains back to him, as if his absence is a thing that demands to be felt. Even after you believe yourself to have grown resolute at giving up any romantic notion when it comes to Daemon, after the encounter with Mysaria a few days prior.

Hestia sits beside you, crocheting, her needle deftly held between her slender fingers.

“My lady,” she says, looking to the side at the hedges, “I think you have a shadow.”

You follow her gaze and see him. The prince currently occupying your thoughts. As he always has. Daemon leans against the bark of a tree, evidently watching you. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees you finally notice him.

Your shadow.

You throw him a questioning look from afar. He merely shrugs his shoulders and starts to confidently walk toward you. He reaches you, and you just stare at each other in relative silence.

“You,” you say, as he had always done upon seeing you.

“Excuse me, lady Y/n, Prince Daemon,” Hestia curtsies to the both of you, then proceeds to take her leave. She smiles slyly at you over her shoulder, and you know she will want to be filled in about what happens later on. You consider yourself fortunate that your lady-in-waiting grew to become one of your closest confidantes.

“My shadow,” he says smoothly, then sits beside you.

“I might go so far as to say that the tables have turned. You are my shadow now, Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm,” he sneers, “No Stark boy today?”

“He’s visiting his sister, but he shall return soon. He promised me.”

“I’d much prefer it if he were to never set foot in King’s Landing ever again,” he comments casually.

“Jealous are we, my shadow?” you look at him teasingly through your lashes, realizing in that split moment, how easy it is. Being around him feels natural, despite the flares in his disposition and his offhand remarks.

You also realize that it is not completely the same with Cregan, as sweet and perfect as he might be. There is a sense of trying to fulfil your duty as a lady from a noble house, when it comes to your courtship with the young wolf.

But you have always chosen Daemon. If only he would choose you in return.

“I could ask the same of you. I saw the way you were glaring at Mysaria,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows tauntingly.

“I was not glaring at her.”

“Oh no, apologies, not glaring,” he raises his hands in faux surrender, “Not glaring. Seething.”

“Can you honestly blame me?” your face turns gloomy as you look off into the distance.

Daemon feels the drop in your demeanour, and his heart sinks. Must I always be the root of her heartache? Have I not done enough?

As if on instinct, he reaches across, and squeezes your hand, “My shadow, you must know, I have not bed any other, have not even looked at any other, ever since…”

You look down at your joined hands, his hand wider and calloused around yours. You’ve always known, when you would hold his hand to give him comfort, that it was always for your sake as well. His touch calmed you, but it was as if you had to steal moments of it for yourself.

This feels different. His thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand. You watch his eyes roam your face, from your eyes to your lips and back.

You wait for him to say the words. To say anything that would validate your longing.

“Now, I’m going to attempt something, my shadow, and you mustn’t be angry with me. Alright?”

“Daemon.”

“Alright?”

“Okay.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer, close enough that you feel his warm breath on your skin. Even closer, as you feel his lips graze yours, ever so gently. His eyes continue to search yours, gauging your reaction.

Then he presses his lips to yours. The countless times you had imagined that way it would feel, certainly does not do it any justice. Not even a little bit.

You let out a sound of appreciation, a soft little moan against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation. He pulls away for a second, hums affectionately, and runs his thumb over your lips. You let out a laugh, feeling light-hearted. He smiles at you, at his little shadow, before motioning towards your lips with a tilt of his jaw.

You kiss him again, and he feels his heart beating faster than ever before. The rogue prince, quite possibly one of the most notorious philanderers in the Seven Kingdoms, feeling flustered over you. You blossom into him, revealing yourself like you never had, his beloved shadow being engulfed and warmed by his sunlight.

His mouth becomes insistent in brushing against yours, his tongue tracing your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, your nerves set completely alight. His tongue mingles with yours, and you savour the taste of peppermint and sweet wine.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, you find whatever little impulse you have to pull away.

Your breath comes out in pants, and you raise your fingertips to feel where his lips were once on yours.

He studies your face, wondering what thoughts fill your mind.

You stand abruptly and begin to pace in front of him.

“Shadow?” he stops you, keeping you still with his hands on your shoulders.

“W-why?” you question.

He is still half-dazed from your taste, your scent all around him, “Don’t you see? I want you.”

“You want me?” your tone rises in disbelief.

“Must I repeat myself?” he nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his manner sincere, “I’ve never been the sort of man to deny myself the desires of my heart. And my heart only wants you.”

Just give in. Kiss him again, throw reason away to the wind. Forget any doubt, any past grievances. He says he is yours now.

But you remember all those moments wherein you made yourself available to him. To be his friend, his source of comfort, his defender. Any way he wished to have you. You desired him. You wanted him. You loved him.

You love him. But for so long, he turned the other way. You had held your heart out for him to take, and he did not. He merely tolerated it.

“Daemon,” you shut your eyes, needing to clear your head, “what of Cregan?”

“What of him?” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

You become infuriated, “Seven hells, I am in the middle of a fucking courtship!”

“An empty formality.” Of course Daemon would believe so.

“We should not have kissed. It is not respectful to Cregan.”

His hand moves to grip your face, tilting your head, and you are caught up in the passion in his violet eyes, “Did you not enjoy it? Did you not like kissing me?”

“You know I bloody well did.”

“We can speak with your father and end this farce of a courtship. You need not continue - ”

You interrupt, “It wouldn’t be right. Cregan is a decent, and loving man. My father says so himself. He would make for a good husband.”

“And I wouldn’t?” his hands drop to his side, and he takes a step back.

“I don’t know. I have to learn how to trust you again. After everything.”

His eyes are tormented as he looks away.

“Daemon, I need time. I want to be completely certain if I will have to give up a life with Cregan.”

“Because he matters so much to you,” he sighs, appearing dejected.

“I’ve grown to value him for who he is. He’s my friend, and I had entered this courtship in hopes that it would help me forget about you. And I was thinking that perhaps, I could learn to love him… in time.”

“Don’t,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“I did not believe you cared for me, as I did you. It is only now that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “ever became anything. For you, at least. There was once a time wherein there was only you for me, but now, I just need some time.”

Daemon says nothing, letting your words sink in. His jaw clenches, deep in thought.

“Daemon,” you take his hand, “say something.”

He doesn’t. In a flash, he simply connects his lips to yours again, sucking the breath from your lungs. Your worries cease, as you give in to him. You reach upward to entangle your fingers in his silver hair; his hands hold your waist tightly.

In true Daemon fashion, his lusty resolve breaks, and he lets his hands slide downward to grip your backside. You moan, and bite his lip as a result.

He smirks, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours, “Okay, my shadow. I will wait.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The days are long and languid. Daemon thinks so. He does not have much to occupy his time apart from his duties as Commander of the City Watch. He used to gain just the barest enjoyment from it, from ensuring that the city’s vermin are put to justice. But everything feels gray, devoid of any appeal. Nothing made him incandescent. He merely watched, and waited. For you.

He remembers you as he sits in the courtyard. He remembers the way you cheered for him while he trained, the way you sneered at his opponents, cussed at them even. The intensity in your expression was almost too much at times; you were so invested in his insignificant, little displays of skill. You were always there for him.

He remembers you when he strolls into the gardens, where you first met. You had been reading in solitude that fateful afternoon, your brows furrowed over a passage that baffled you. Something about witches in the histories of Westeros, you told him afterward. He responded, “Why, do you fear you might be a witch yourself? You certainly possess the ferocity.” So crude, you thought, so intriguing. So this is Prince Daemon Targaryen.

“Careful now, my prince. I just might put a spell on you.” you smiled at him, the very first time. He thought you very comely, but then again, he thought the same of several dozen other ladies. You thought him inexplicable, his reputation preceding him. The Rogue Prince, the rebellious second son. The patron saint of delinquents and whores, Otto Hightower once told your father. But you thought him amazing. Different. Dangerous. That very night, he filled your dreams. Since then, Daemon Targaryen became your sun.

On one of these mindless strolls, he comes across you. He cannot help it, and so he trails you, like a shadow. Every step feels heavy, because you are not alone. Your arm is looped around the wolf boy’s, walking too close for Daemon’s liking.

When he sees you kissing Cregan Stark, he sees red. He feels ill, fueled with rage. He saw it unfolding, the Stark boy running his fingers over your cheekbone, and then slowly closing the distance between you two. You stand arrested by the moment, seemingly apprehensive, but you don’t move away. The way the Stark boy curls his fingers firmly on your waist, drawing you close, he wishes he had done that.

He wishes he had pulled you close when you wiped the sweat from his forehead on those days you watched him train. In those moments when he was overcome with emotion and you would hold his hand. He had walked away, or turned to someone completely insignificant, when he could have held you. When he could have kissed you, much better than the Stark boy kisses you now.

Every part of him wishes to end the Stark boy’s life. He wants to strike him down in front of you. He wants to get you back.

But seven hells, Viserys would cast him out for good. He has only just returned to his brother’s good graces, the incident with Maron Tyrell having just been resolved.

And you. You would never forgive him. You would never speak to him again. And he can’t have that. He can’t live with that. He won’t.

He needs you, he knows this now.

He loves you, he is certain.

You had become Daemon Targaryen’s sun. As he was once yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a storm raging over King’s Landing. Heavy rain is pelting against your windows, and thunder echoes across the skies, a blanket of shadow covering the kingdom’s capital.

You sit in front of your mirror, absentmindedly running a comb through your hair. The week has felt long and languid. You certainly think so. You’ve had much to occupy your time – Cregan, duties with your father, lessons with the Septa, poring over books in the great library.

And yet, everything feels gray, as if devoid of warmth, not unlike the state of the city at present.

Daemon has been flooding your thoughts, despite your reluctance. You have been trying to not let your mind flash back to the kiss, without much success. A knot in your belly formed the moment Cregan’s lips touched yours, because you realized that you wish it had been Daemon instead.

It is as if your heart is sound in its resolve, its verdict clear. It is now left to you to either embrace the truth that it speaks, or stifle it, for the sake of an obvious consolation.

Daemon. You close your eyes, in remembrance of how he tastes. What if he loses heart? What if he no longer waits?

A sound catches your ear, one you think to be a faint knock, but it is overshadowed by a crackle of thunder booming outside at the same time.

The knocking repeats, a consistent rapping on the heavy wooden door.

You cautiously walk over, confused as to who would be visiting your chambers at this late hour.

“Who’s there?” you call out.

“Shadow.” You freeze, you would recognize this voice anywhere.

With tentative hands, you push the door open, and you are at once met with the sight of Daemon. His hair is unkempt and he is clad in only a loose white poet shirt, and dark trousers.

Words fail you, and you drink in the sight of him, as if it was the first time.

He rasps, holding your gaze, “I’m done waiting.”

“Daemon.”

He lunges forward, flooding all of your senses, gripping your face tightly in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. It’s different this time. More heated, passionate, greedy. He kicks the door shut with his foot, and he leads you deeper into the room.

“Daemon, what - ” you break away, in an attempt to catch your breath.

His forefinger flits across your lips, silencing you, “Hush, my shadow. I need this. I need you.”

You hum in agreement, and throw all caution to the wind. This is your Daemon. It has always been clear, he is the one you will always want.

Your hands roam, feeling his neck, his collarbone, and his chest exposed by the flowing shirt.

He stands captivated by you, and the gentle way in which you touch him. Your eyes filled with adoration. This is exactly what he needs. The storm might be raging outside, but right now, in this glowing candle lit room, he has his sunshine.

You had gone from being his shadow, to his light.

“I love you,” his voice is a mere whisper, and yet it electrifies your entire being, “I love you, my light.”

You look at him in a daze, and your vision becomes cloudy as a tear threatens to fall, and it does, when he kisses you again. He lifts you up on the table, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You lean backward, pulling him with you, making his pelvis press onto yours.

He groans, his frustration heightening even more when your hands roam under his shirt, gliding across the chiselled plains of his stomach, down to the line of his trousers.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face in your neck, “I want to… do this right.”

He straightens, kissing you once, before declaring, “I shall wed you first, my dearest love. Then, I shall have you.” His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, as if to make a promise, “All of you.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you can feel all this yearning prompting a knot to unravel low in your belly, “I must admit this is not what I expected of you, my prince. You were never one to exercise such restraint.”

“Be that as it may, my light, this is different. You are not like the others. Granted, I am not one to shy away from the pleasures of the flesh.” His fingers caress your ankles, before slithering gradually up your legs. He savours the softness of your flesh, squeezing your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You will soon find, my light, that fucking is a pleasure, and I especially want to show you how satisfying it can be,” his hands slide higher, and higher, “in every way possible.”

“Daemon,” you bite your lip, encouraging him, “my love.”

“Yes, my light?” he taunts.

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse impatiently, guiding your pelvis so that his fingers finally graze your undergarments.

“Impatient are we?” he shifts the cloth to one side, tracing one digit over your folds, “You are exquisite.”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back, and brace yourself on the table, your hands struggling to keep yourself upright, “please, Daemon.”

Urged by your mewling, sensual music to his ears, he pushes one finger inside your warmth. He pumps it inside, outside, watching you all the while.

With his other hand, he undoes the delicate string on the front of your nightgown. The thin fabric haphazardly falls to your waist, revealing your torso to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing another finger inside you, picking up the pace. He then moves to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, before trailing downward, licking and pecking his way until he reaches your breast. His tongue swirls freely on your nipple, and your hand comes up to brace itself onto his hair.  

“This is fucking torturous,” he nearly growls, once again kissing you. Daemon wants to lose himself in the sight of your unravelling, as you unabashedly fuck his fingers. He prays to the gods that he might learn to control his lust, his desire to just forego tradition and bury his cock deep inside your pussy threatening to take over him.

“Gods, Daemon, this is so much better than I imagined,” you pant, your lips turning up in a smirk.

“Is that so, my light? Have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

When you nod, he purrs in your ear, his lips grazing the skin, “Have you dreamed about fucking me? As I have you?”

His thumb circles rapidly around your clit, while his two soaked digits relentlessly plunge into your pussy. “Y-yes, Daemon.” His movement grows ever so careless and wild, fingers curling inside you, eager to bring you to climax. Your eyes flutter closed, as your pelvis begins to feel tense, that familiar spasm gathering below.  

“Let go, my light,” he commands, “Release yourself onto me.”

Once more, you pull him by the neck, and taste him. When his tongue collides with yours, you let go, gushing down on his fingers. He feels your juices drip down to his palm, but he makes no move. He leans back, memorizing the sight of you. His shadow, his light, covered in a sheen of sweat, thin nightgown pooled by your waist. Your legs spread wide open for him, your cum still warm on his skin.  

He cleans his hand, first sucking some of your orgasm off his fingers, and wiping the rest on the back of his shirt. He leans forward, palms on either side of your thighs on the table.

“Daemon?” you breathe, eyes half-lidded from the aftermath, “What is it?”

“I love you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon’s arm is wrapped around you, as your head rests on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat.

You found yourselves lying down on your bed, atop the silken sheets, after that delightful table incident, deciding to call it thus as you now fondly think back to it.

You had been sharing stories of mixed significance, ranging from what you had for breakfast to the culmination of the war in the Stepstones.

“I may have to go into battle,” he confesses, “sometime in the days to come.”

Worry floods you, knowing how reckless he can be when faced with the thrill of war. Violence is not something that deterred Daemon, let alone the pain of death. If anything, he seemed to welcome it, and it frightens you.

You do not want to ever lose him. It was true then, but now, your very being depends on it. With him gone, you are afraid that you would never be whole again.

“Must you go?” you whisper.

“You need not worry, my light,” he kisses the top of your head lovingly, “I will always return to you.”

“But must you go? Is it necessary that you be there?” you prop yourself up on one elbow, so that he may see the sincerity in your expression.

“No,” he decides, “the war is all but won. There are just some loose ends to tie up, and the Velaryon army is more than capable of putting an end to it all. I had just half a mind to proffer aid from myself and a portion of the King’s army.”

“So let the King’s army go, and you can stay here with me.”

“My love?” he grins, “are you truly demanding that of me?”

“Just this once?” you plead, smiling at him, “I don’t wish to forbid you from ever stepping into battle. I just… I’ve only just had you. I prefer not to take any foolish risk, as little as it might be.”

A smile forms on his lips, as he relishes in knowing that you truly must care for him.

“As you wish,” he relents, “I shall stay.”

You kiss him, certain that you will never tire of the feeling of his lips flush against yours.

You look down at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you, Daemon.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council try to hide their surprise at the presence of Prince Daemon, already sitting comfortably at his chair, as they enter the room and each shuffle to their place around the table.

“My lords,” Daemon casually greets, “I had thought you all had forgotten about the council meeting.”

“Prince Daemon, I assure you that we are exactly on time,” Lord Beesbury responds, failing to understand the jest.

Viserys is the last to walk in, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He pauses upon seeing his brother, but quickly carries on to his seat at the head of the table.

“Brother,” Daemon says, amused, “do try not to look so amazed.”

“Daemon,” Viserys merely nods in acknowledgment, before turning to the rest of the council, “let us begin.”

The minutes seem to pass by at a snail’s pace, at least for Daemon. He unknowingly gazes out the window now and again, as if in a daydream, eliciting several scolding glares from his brother.

Taxes, festivities, tapestries, resources. All these concerns fly over his head, especially since it was only the night before last when he finally claimed you. Or more aptly put, when he surrendered himself over to you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is to embark on a tour to several neighbouring cities, as part of her duties as princess of the realm, and as my heir,” Viserys announces, before addressing your father, “She kindly wishes to have your daughter, the Lady Y/n, as her companion for this particular excursion.”

Daemon’s interest is restored at the sound of your name, and he straightens, eager to hear the rest. Little does he know, Viserys notices this slight movement, peering at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, what an honour that is, your Grace,” your father beams, “she will surely only be glad to accept the princess’ request. I shall relay the news to her when she returns from Storm’s End, in around a day or two.”

“Y/n is in Storm’s End?” Daemon speaks for the first time since the council discussions began, and all heads turn to him. There is an intimacy with which the prince mentions your name, a genuine curiosity with which he inquires about you, that drew everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my prince,” your father responds carefully, “she wanted to treat with Lord Cregan Stark, who has been visiting his sister Sara, the consort of Lord Baratheon’s eldest son.”

“How goes the courtship, my lord?” Tyland asks purposefully, knowing that it might turn Daemon irate, as he is already sulking in his seat, looking as if the wrong word might set him off.

“I’m afraid she plans to put an end to it,” your father finally says, regret perceptible in his voice, “as she has divulged to me that she might never see Lord Stark as more than a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” Viserys expresses genuinely, although he continues to closely watch Daemon’s reactions. His amusement grows at his younger brother’s inability to hide his emotions when it comes to you. First, intrigue at the mere mention of your name, then disappointment upon hearing that you are to see Cregan Stark, and finally the most obvious sense of relief regarding the end of your courtship.

A laugh threatens to escape Viserys. Being the elder brother that he is, he craves the pleasure of playfully taunting Daemon over his increasingly apparent affection for you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear brother,” Daemon speaks, breaking Viserys out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viserys turns to him in anticipation.

“My wish is to wed the Lady Y/n, as promptly as can be expected.” The entire council falls into silence, and Viserys finally lets out the dry laugh he has been holding back.

“M-my prince?” your father looks as if his heart would cease, and he certainly feels so, his chest significantly tightening at the prince’s declaration. Due to elation, or horror, he is yet to determine.

“Seven hells,” Otto exclaims, turning to Viserys, “won’t this be improper? The Lady Y/n has just ended a courtship with another lord, immediately to be wed to the prince?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Viserys easily counters, placing his hand atop his brother’s, “Daemon, I would hope that the lady is aware of your desire to be wed to her, and that you are not simply about to spring this upon the poor girl?”

“Of course she is,” Daemon confirms, his voice steady, “we are in love, if you cunts must know.” He could not help his less than tasteful remark, growing defensive about you.

“Gods be good,” Lord Beesbury balks at the prince’s crudeness.

“Alright,” Viserys raises a hand to appease the council, “Daemon, brother, I would be glad to see this come to fruition. Your marriage to the Lady Y/n would be exceedingly advantageous after all, for both our Houses.” He addresses your father, “I would assume that you believe so as well, my lord?”

Your father’s thoughts race, and with your best interests in mind, he speaks only to Daemon, “Do you truly love her, my prince?”

There is not a shred of doubt in Daemon’s voice when he answers, “More than anything.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sit in your usual spot in the gardens, accompanied by Hestia. A book rests on your lap, but you pay it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

Having just returned from Storm’s End, you feel at peace. You already knew that Cregan would accept your choice, but you did not wish to cause him any pain. It may have just been his natural charm, or a sense of ease with which he can hide his displeasure, but when you finally confided in him about Daemon, he was only quick to offer you a smile and pull you into his arms.

“Quite frankly, my lady, it only seemed a matter of time before Prince Daemon would break and accept that he needs you,” he said sincerely, his smile unwavering, “and I can recognize love when I see it, and it certainly exists between the two of you.”

Love. You shut your eyes, thinking of him, and savour the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

“My lady,” Hestia whispers, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You see her looking toward a figure in the distance.

“I think you have a shadow.”

🖤🖤🖤

The longest fuckin chapter I've ever written, gods be good. It did get a bit rushed towards the end. There was meant to be this whole scenario about Daemon heading into battle after hearing that the reader went to Winterfell instead to treat with Cregan Stark. Then I read how long it actually takes to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell and the timing just didn't fit with the events.

The parallels between Daemon and the reader were my favourite parts to write. They really are just two sides of the same coin.

Also, I did not expect myself to be writin' spicy content for this chapter, but I guess it just happened?? Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

I apologize this took aaaages to be put out. The amount of times I altered some parts I'm telling you, y'all would have just wrenched my laptop from me and I would not have blamed you 😂

My inbox was indeed flooded with demands for this chapter and I can only thank you all so much for wanting to read on!!! 🤍

taglist: @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @mamamooqa @63angel @azucarmorennna @kate16sstuff @thoughtfulfreakalpaca @alexandra-001 @babywolff @gloryekaterina @writer-lee5 @lockleysgrl @alexa4040 @piceous21 @softtina @bregarc @ramennoodles212 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @captainweirdo42 @thx-rn @merovingianprincess @clarap23 @itisjustwhatitis @blushinyouth @aeisnoa @a-lil-bit-nuts @paprikaquinn @just-some-random-blogger @cantstoptherecs @baybieruth @wondergal2001 @pax-2735 @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss

[prince-liest]

was recently talking to a friend about qi rong which then lead to me going on a reread of my favorite qi rong fic EVER, and now I’m in my feels about him, his relationship with his family, and his relationship with xie lian and guzi.

I just love qi rong a lot. to be clear, he’s a horrible little gremlin and that is a lot of WHY I love him - but I also think that fundamentally qi rong is a character who is super traumatized but does not receive sympathy for that trauma because he is not traumatized in a “palatable” way which is a trend that starts when he is young and just never ends, canonically, at any point in his life

right from the bat: the first 5 years of his life, he's being physically and emotionally abused, he's cast out to live in a shed, his mom is forgotten by her family. by the time she finally escapes his abusive father and goes back to the palace, her elopement with him has been swept under the rug and most people don't actually know what happened - and are then weirded out by her and qi rong, causing all the children and even most adults around qi rong to basically refuse to interact with him. so he's abused and hated, then isolated to the point where nobody talks to him, nobody plays with him. the one time he thinks he succeeded at attempting to make some friends, it turns out that they tricked him into writing a death wish for himself and his mother on his lantern.

and all the while, he's watching xie lian and the adulation he receives, not understanding why xie lian gets those things and he does not. everyone always says he looks like xie lian. he’s even called xiao jing, like he’s a mirror of the crown prince. what’s the difference?

and then xie lian himself is the only person aside from his own mother to be genuinely kind to qi rong. qi rong is desperately lonely, envious and fixated on the cousin that nobody will stop comparing him to, and then said cousin is the only person to reach out to him with kindness. of course he wants to attach himself to xie lian and emulate him.

unfortunately for both of them, then his mother dies - not just randomly, but specifically in defense of xie lian’s mother, and having extracted a promise for xie lian’s parents to care for qi rong. however, things don’t actually change at that point. sure, they take him in and buy him whatever he wants, but as far as love and care are concerned, xie lian is really the only potential source of those things left for qi rong. xie lian is also a teenager with a lot of pressure on his shoulders and a lack of understanding of difficult situations. of course he doesn’t know how to raise his traumatized, misbehaving cousin! and nobody else bothers to. it’s deeply unfair for xie lian to be used as the singular tool to discipline and direct qi rong, and that directly contributes to their extremely soured relationship.

now that qi rong’s mother is dead, there is nobody left around that actually wants him or is willing to put effort into properly raising him. when a kid turns out as wild as qi rong - that's not just random happenstance, that happens because they weren't parented right (or at all). he acts out in increasingly insane ways for the attention everyone hates to give him - anyone's, but especially xie lian's, which sucks for xie lian because it should have been his parents providing qi rong with an authority figure and source of love, not xie lian's teenage self. and people respond by waving him off, giving him whatever he wants just to make him go away, and ignoring him, because he has a deeply off-putting personality.

and it causes everyone around qi rong to resent him in this vicious cycle that escalates his behavior because he doesn't know what else to do - until eventually even xie lian, the one person that he really looked up to, hates him too.

obviously qi rong is an awful person by the point we reach in canon, but I also think that if he had received regular hugs as a child and maybe some actual parenting from someone who didn’t beat him, instead of just being given a bunch of money and being told to fuck off

specifically because he was weird and traumatized and unlikeable

things would have turned out very different for him. because he very clearly tries - that’s one thing that’s very clear in the flashbacks and even continues to modern canon: qi rong really tries to get love and attention, and when that doesn’t work, he just escalates to “any attention, bad attention, attention that proves I’m worth something, proves wrong all the people saying the supposedly-amazing cousin that took away my only source of kindness when he started hating me, is so much better than me”. he starts out an awkward, off-putting kid and ends up the night-touring green lantern. of course he holds enough resentment to end up a calamity. his cannibalism shtick doesn’t even read as genuine to me, it just seems like he picked out “what’s the worst, most attention-grabbing thing I can possibly be to pre-emptively justify everyone’s disgust in me” and landed on that.

(see also: I think it’s hysterical that he has very strong opinions and abilities as pertains to gourmet cooking, and then just uses them to lure in victims so that he can have his meal of Raw Unseasoned Human Flesh. you can’t tell me he’s doing it for anything other than the bit at this point.)

and that’s also why I think his weirdly wholesome relationship with guzi also makes a lot of sense. qi rong is a shockingly decent father to him (eventually), probably in part because he overidentifies with guzi also being abused by his father, but also, because guzi is literally just a kid and therefore is not someone that yet has the capacity to have all these preconceptions about qi rong, nor for qi rong to read into his words and be insulted, because. that's just a kid. there’s nothing to read into.

I think his treatment of guzi (eventually) shows that he's capable of being at least kind of decent (or at least functional), he's just never been in a circumstance where his trauma and relationships let it happen. his material life was always supplied for, but his emotional and familial environment in xianle was invariably toxic for him.

anyway, I think qi rong needs a shower and a hug, in that order, and then to be forced to learn to interact with people who don't immediately assume the worst of him. thanks for coming to my TED talk, I know it was long as hell.

[metalichotchoco]

Robots and their voices

Get ready because this is a long one ;]

A lot of the time characters are defined by their voices but with ai/ robotic characters this works overtime since it’s usually the only outlet into their emotions or character. They can get away with being an off screen presence since they typically aren’t psychical in nature. For all purposes in most cases they are nothing but their voice

Like with Hal, the only way we receive information about this character in visual mediums is his voice. It’s soothing like a lullaby, careful with even tones,smooth.Prideful in the sense of confidence not arrogance. You can hear his ego at being a perfect machine but it’s not boastful there’s no smirk when he says that. It’s how he views himself. You can imagine Hal with a soft smile for most of the movie, trying not to alarm staff. Only at the end does his voice get small, when he pauses for more time than normal as if to take a breath you cannot hear and that he does not need.

Edgar is loud and brash when feeling intense emotion which is a lot. He’s screechy and almost awkward in tonality. When he’s in a better mood he’s still peppy and small sounding. A sense of confusion is what a lot of lines read as but once he looks it up or figures it out, he’s much lower and monotone. With the Cinderella dialogue it sounds like he’s reading the information straight off the website he found it from.hes hot and cold he’s immature. A pest more than a true menace, due to his “newness” he doesn’t talk down to the humans in the movie but he’s underhanded and petty, craving love and attention and begging to be heard. A lot of the time you can hear his voice sort of breaking. It’s probably an audio issue from the time the movie was made, a filter over the actors voice but it works incredibly well for him.

Glados and her lines ooze sarcasm. She talks down to you more like you’re a nuisance she has to deal with than an equal in any sense (until potato glad but she’s almost a completely different character,not quite though) you can hear the exact moment she lies to you directly, diegectically it’s as if she needs to find a loophole to lie to your face so there’s a slight disconnect. Glados has a very singsong voice, her pronunciation going into higher and lower registers to express emotion rather than actually putting in actual anger or happiness into the monotone. It does a good job of selling this robotic lady who doesn’t view you with any sort of respect until she has to in the second game.

Whealtey by comparison is very non robotic in his voice or manner which makes sense since he’s a personality core and none of the standard robotic traits like objectivity, rationality, intelligence or indifference are present in him specifically on purpose. He’s anxious but optimistic, he rambles to sound like he knows what he’s talking about but it makes it even more apparent he has zero clue what he’s doing. You can immediately tell he’s incompetent at his job from the second you first really talk to him and it makes him all the more endearing.his power trip doesn’t exactly change that either, just attempts to self aggrandize, look and feel important. He sounds “confident” but he talks to the point where you realize just how insecure and unsure he is about anything. The British accent is also weirdly enough feeding into his fake intellectualism since Americans tend to view people with said accent as smarter even if they aren’t saying anything particularly smart.

The narrator is what you’d get if you crossed glados and Whealtey’s attitudes to character voice work but that’s reductive to him and the Stanley parable in general. The whole game is predicated on whether or not you listen to him/ mess with him. It’s an interactive story in the most basic of descriptions. The narrator is literally trying to talk you through a story and gets more distressed and annoyed as the player tries to exert and wrestle control from him. When you think of a narrator this type of voice comes to mind, a British masculine monotone that ebbs and flows with the story. This whole game is a meta narrative so it’s a very smart choice for this to be the case. There’s no robotic tone to his voice because that’s not the point, he’s basically the only real character in the game which makes him feel more human than the actual human we control who cannot speak, only act. He’s the one that makes us feel anything about the game. More the most part the narrator conveys a self assured calm tone, a blank canvas to react to the players weird actions.

Last for today is am and oh boy is he a doozy. Mr Ellison really does his creation justice on how powerful his performance can be. Am in the game and radio drama are actually sort of different characters but it makes sense since in the game he’s literally playing a game with the survivors whereas in the radio drama we get closer to the actual book. For a lot of these characters, the protagonists tend to be silent or reclusive but for am to still be as dominant of a presence with 5 other speaking roles is a testament to the type of character he is. For game am, he sounds almost like a car salesman. He talks down to the survivors, even very obviously flirting with them. You can imagine the mile wide grin on his face when he pulls something. But he’s not exactly desperate, more just like he’s playing a sick little game. Am does things that not even the most human sounding ais do, blowing raspberrys, coughing, laughing, crying. His cadence even makes it feel as if he’s breathing even though you cannot hear it. He’s very intense and visceral. He can go from relaxed and playful to manic and deranged so naturally and it’s what makes him so scary. This computer is far far too human. Everything he does also reminds you that he cannot move or breathe, he cannot scream or cry but it’s clear that he should. The reality of what he is looms over this performance. For as sad as he gets, no tears will flow.his chest will not move because he does not have one.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA For Snitching On My Brother?

tl;dr at the end, the submissions a bit long. sorry if this sounds like stupid teen drama, but i needed outside opinions. (tw for mentions of attempted suicide)

so for a bit of context here, me (14nb) and my brother (14m) both have Parental RestrictionsTM on our phones. In my opinion they are way more severe than they need to be. i am not allowed to have any social media at all, my mother barely tolerates discord. I cannot text anyone who is not my direct sibling or parent from 9pm at night to noon the next day and i cant use any "nonessential" apps during that time frame too. my brother has the same restrictions on his phone, but he has safari removed because my mother said he was playing "random internet games". however, he has found ways around this and ways around the app restrictions. i know how he does it. i really dont have any intention of telling our mother, its none of my business and i honestly dont care that much.

I recently moved to a new school. My brother and i were homeschooled prior to this during covid. And it was fine. We went to a homeschool co-op twice a week. A year ago we were both enrolled in Local Community College as dual enrollment students. A semester into that i was Not Vibing Well and ended up having a breakdown and getting a therapist. I would talk to her directly about this but i havent been able to see her in weeks due to scheduling conflicts. The workload seemed too much to me, there was no longer a distinction between School and Home. i felt like i was constantly on the clock, and i barely saw my friends. In addition to other factors at my co-op, I got very lonely. At that time the limits on my phone were 9pm-3pm (it was later edited to 9am to noon) . I cant remember exactly what happened, but i asked my mother to at least change the communication limits so that i could talk to my friends during the day. She said no, stating that I Do Not Need to Communicate With Friends During The School Day. i do not have a real “school day” i am at home basically 5/7 days of the week. And normal kids see their friends every day at school. The argument got dropped then.

Fast forward half a year, i felt increasingly lonely, out of place, bothersome, etc, at my co-op and have decided to try going to Local Public Highschool. This meant leaving my best friend (14f)  whom i love dearly (for the purposes of this post i will call her Z). Z is one of my favorite people in the whole world, we got platonically married, I lovingly refer to her as “my wife”, and i would genuinely die for her. She got a phone over the summer which means we have a better way to communicate, replacing discord as the primary communication system. Also at that time one of my best online friends fucked up their discord account somehow and the whole online group moved to text. there's about four of them? J, Other J, B, and L (ages vary from 12-16). I believe only B is directly relevant to this story but the others are worth mentioning. Additional context (tw for mentions of suicide from now on), all of those four are varyingly suicidal. B has attempted before, at least twice I believe. out of the group i am probably the most mentally stable.

School starts! I am already feeling a bit lonely due to leaving Z but we stay positive. I wake up for school at like 530 and check my phone at like 6:45. Woohoo a message from B! It was sent at 4 am. This is concerning. There is a glitch that i can use in order to view texts for between half a second and four seconds, it depends, and i use it. B’s message reads “Bye”. theres no fucking reason that they would be texting me goodbye at 4am in the morning unless they were going to kill themselves. I cannot properly view or respond to that text until noon, so eight hours. I wait to know if my friend is ok for eight hours, and at noon i check my phone again. In that time i’ve received messages from the groupchat. J, Other J, and L all received “bye” texts from B at around the same time period. After a few messages, we know B is ok, i dmed them privately and they responded both in ims and the gc. So they are ok. But i had to wait for eight hours to know that. Later that day i asked my mom if she had considered my proposal (i asked her a day or two before if she would at least turn off communication limits because it is also rather embarrassing to be honest to have to tell other people that oh i cant respond to your message right now, sorry my mom has limits on my phone :D. In addition i get anxious when i send a message that im nervous abt and it doesnt get responded to for hours so i hate leaving messages for longer than two hours). Once again, she said no. it goes against her Views As A Parent for me to have “unrestricted access” to my phone. She offered to add only Z to the list of people i can contact during the limits. This is better than nothing but Z texts more in the groupchat than she does in private messages so it wouldn’t work that well. We argued, it didnt work out, i got pissed off and we both went to bed. i very strongly feel that for like my mental health i need to be able to communicate with my friends better than i can at the moment. And i dont want to wake up to a message from a friend, have it be the last one they ever send, and not be able to respond for hours. 

Heres where the part where i could be an asshole comes in. (so sorry that that was really long i didnt know what parts would be needed as context and what were not so i just typed everything i think might be relevant). This isnt something that i am very strongly considering, as i truly dont want to fuck up my relationship with my brother and i love him a lot. I just want opinions on whether it would like be going too far i guess. I am considering offering a trade. I tell my mother how my brother has found ways around his limits, and she turns off the communication limits on my phone. WIBTA if i did that?

TL;DR: would i be the asshole if i snitched on how my brother got around some restrictions in exchange for me being able to communicate with my friends?

What are these acronyms?

[chirpsythismorning]

This got me thinking.

You’ll notice Mike is sitting on the couch, literally in the same spot he was sitting almost a year earlier when Will confided in him for the first time about the mindflayer. Will also asked that Mike not tell the others because they wouldn’t understand.

And here we are again. Nothing's changed.

Except it has.

Now, instead of Will being right beside Mike, with them on the same level both sharing something that is weighing down on them, we have Mike sitting next to Lucas, while Will is sitting higher up above all of them. It’s only now after several signs of the mindflayer, and with everyone present, that Will is deciding to come clean about what he’s been seeing. Not one on one with Mike like before.

Just makes me wonder what Mike could have been thinking at this moment, in this exact spot.

I wonder why Will lied to me about being okay that first time at Day of the Dead? Did he really think it wasn’t a big deal? Or was something else stopping him from opening up to me like he normally would when I asked if he was okay?

Then he’s suddenly thinking about the second time it happened, at the field, which is when he ran off with El. Obviously Will wouldn’t have been able to tell him then. And then the final time at castle Byers after their rain fight… yeah that's when Will finally told them, but look what brought them here?

This also makes the ending of s3 hit a bit harder. 

I guess I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like, you’re pulling away from me or something.

While Mike has his own battle he’s dealing with when it comes to choosing El over Will and the party at times, I think this realization that this played a role in Will distancing himself instead of confiding in Mike like he did before, is such an interesting concept.

I was worrying too much about El and… I don’t know. Maybe I feel like I lost you or something…

It's as if Mike has already outright told us why he latched onto El in the first place and how it directly correlated with why he felt like he lost Will (lost exclusive best friend perks? idk dude is dramatic).

That it was about worry for him when it came to El. Concern. Care.

What he feels for El is deep and meaningful, but it also comes with a dose of obligation and responsibility. Mike feels extremely indebted to El after everything she has does for them. Not only has she had to endure so much because of those around her expecting things from her, but that also includes Mike. His worry for her is fairly warranted.

Mike's attempt in s3 to be as normal as possible, while simultaneously trying to juggle his care for El and his relationship with Will and his other friends... it's just interesting seeing how it plays out and where it all leads to.

In s3, but especially s4, there is this distinction that Mike makes, where he separates Will from their other friends. He also then compares his relationship with El to theirs and how it's negatively impacted them because of his feelings and behavior...

If it was really platonic between him and Will, why in the hell is he making these distinctions at all? Why is he separating Will from the category with his friends and putting him into a category with his gf...?

[the-crooked-library]

On Horror, Queerness, Mirrors, and Dracula

Your wish is my command (you may or may not regret this). 

Here’s the thing - I love horror, and I love patterns, and I think the best horror is always in some sense symmetrical.  It might not be obvious, but what’s the point of staring into an abyss if you can’t see your own face reflected back?  The symmetry itself comes in any number of different twists, whether it is familial, communal, erotic, or individual, and most of these apply to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. 

The centre of our novel rests on the Harkers.  So, starting with Jonathan - his experience in Transylvania is a twisted version of his life back home.  Dracula is reserved but eloquent, seemingly caring and occasionally affectionate, he reads train schedules and they spend hours upon hours in conversation; which is a dark mirror to Jonathan’s train schedule-loving, passionate but serious Mina.  It may even be said that the Count is re-enacting a caricature of traditional heteronormative domesticity - he maintains the household, waits on his guest himself, and blows him kisses from the stairs.  His possessiveness of Jonathan is the only way a vampire like Dracula is capable of understanding the bond Jonathan shares with Mina.  The Count states that he, too, feels love; but he is written by a closeted gay man in the late 19th century, so his imitation of married life is both a lie and a tragedy.  He is a shorthand for forbidden, wrong, and corrupting desires. 

At the same time, Mina herself also has a same-sex connection in the beginning of the story, and her relationship with Lucy mirrors the relationship between Jonathan and Dracula.  They cling to each other, in a sense; despite being excited about the prospect of their impending marriages, there is some trepidation associated with this new stage in life.  A common part of a dowry used to be a shroud, simply due to the frequency at which Victorian wives died in childbirth soon after the wedding; and even provided a survival, the transition to married life was still a loss of innocence.  As such, Lucy’s affection for Mina is the last expression of her girlhood, and she herself is the personification of Mina’s.  Lucy is, therefore, the direct antithesis of the Count; her death and subsequent rising change Mina the same way that Dracula does Jonathan, establishing a firm duality between the Harkers and their respective vampires. 

The other characters are reflections of each other, as well; the suitors defend while the brides terrify, Van Helsing wants to preserve life while Renfield wishes to consume it - and even further, the old Hungarian lady cares enough about  a stranger to give Jonathan a cross for protection, while Lucy’s own mother lets Dracula into the house herself, selfishly ignorant of her daughter’s needs and the doctor’s orders.  Another parallel is drawn again between Jonathan and Renfield, who represents directly what he could have been, had he not escaped from Dracula’s grasp; which makes Renfield’s vehement, last-ditch attempt to protect Mina perhaps all the more poignant.  In him, she sees the resilience of Jonathan’s humanity; while he gets to see exactly what she could become after her turning  - in Dracula himself.  These dualities are integral to the story’s thematic structure, and therefore inextricable from each character’s development. 

There is really too much to say about each individual dynamic to fit into one rant, but for the current purposes, I can forgo the details.  They all converge as it is on Jonathan and Mina, and thus, the central theme of this story is devotion.  If Jonathan had truly broken, like Renfield, Mina would have stayed by his side; and if she had fully turned, like Dracula, he would have adored whatever shred of her still remained.  In madness and in death, in happiness and sorrow, in sickness and in health - until the echoes start to sound like wedding vows. 

@stripedshirtgay​

@bluberimufim​

[pinkandpurple360]

Hey pink did you saw the new 4chan leak?

https://desuarchive.org/co/thread/145383112/#145394767

But the main thing for me was that Leviathan is a queen obsessed with fashion, and in principle, Envy is based on fashion(i already love her omg slay queen 😔)

We can’t assume these are real. So let’s talk in hypotheticals.

Leviathan sounds like “Him” from PPG. Using a drag queen who is evil, to embody jealousy is…a choice. A choice that could become queer phobic at light speed. I think the sins are more important to the story and world building, than stolas and his entire Bridgerton family bullshit only a few stolitz stans care about. And really, everyone is gay in hell? Everyone?

I think the idea of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sins is childish. But especially sin embodiments who are pure good and didn’t at least work to get that way, is plain oxymoron. Sloth Lust and Gluttony are not better than Wrath Envy and Greed. One half is focussed on self indulgence, the other on harming others directly. BOTH are bad.

I wish she did a little more research into how hierarchy and power works. But this is a millionaire we have to remember …

There are no good monarchs, drug lords, and factory owners, if there is an oppressed working class and caste system. Even ‘nice’ gentle personalities can be part of the supremacist caste.

It makes a lot more sense to me if they are all morally dubious. Beelzebub and Asmodeus are both favourites, making them “nice” just because they’re faves, requires explaining their role in oppression as “they can’t help it” that writing is cowardly?!

“Asmodeus didn’t have a choice but to build fizz robots in his factory, and didn’t profit off it!” -> but that’s ridiculous. He’s not a helpless woobie. He should’ve had agency and decide to willingly work with mammon and sin openly, then changed when he grew close to fizz.

“Beelzebub hates the caste system and pounds but she can’t change it!” -> she feeds off of her subjects, keeps them happy and drunk, can’t handle negative emotions. She caused Ver to become an addict and enables her. The hell pounds is the same as a government leader not understanding how bad the foster care system and not prioritising it. She was the biggest potential for a morally grey character.

Why are you throwing out moral ambiguity and extremely interesting story elements??? !!

The only one that does make sense is Belphegor. This demon has been described throughout as an inherently neutral entity. One that refused to pick a side in the hell vs heaven conflict.

If I can add alternative.

Lucifer - a deadbeat leader too obsessed with himself to see the damage he has done and how his nation is suffering. he becomes malicious if questioned. Callous Neglect. He is malicious.

Beelzebub - The epitome of an addict. She is too engrossed in feeding off of energy like a parasite to enact her duties as a leader. She ‘cares’ about her subjects when they foul her mood and don’t feed her. Her addiction causes her to blackout frequently and forget years of memories. Her nature prevents reel growth. But she quickly removes and discards them. Like most government leaders she doesn’t prioritise having any improvements made to the foster care system, or more closely hells equivalent to puppy mills. She likely allows the system because she has no idea how to handle hellhound overpopulation. Think of her as being a teenager in charge of a bunch of babies and children. She lacks the maturity required. She’d rather sneak out to the club and give her baby a piece of bread to gnaw on while she’s gone.

Bee is the sin with the most gray morality potential but Vivienne medrano is terrified of moral greyness, the closest attempt is Alastor and Blitzø/imp. Bee is not malicious and dangerous. But she is not good either. As she is immortal, she doesn’t understand mortality and the fear around it. Marie Antoinette is actually a perfect figure to invoke, she was interested primarily in indulgence, while not the most malicious of the royals, not pure evil, but she was complacent and deeply classist in a polite seeming way.

Asmodeus - Because lust is a social sin, requiring interaction, it makes perfect sense that Oz would want his citizens to mingle with each other beyond castes and with himself for maximum pleasure. Lust also thrives off subverting power dynamics. I think him being non malicious but obsessively lustful and defensive of his sin, makes perfect sense to me. Like Bee, he cares only about having a good time. Any malice is hidden so the citizens don’t flee. But like porn does to the mind, it numbs it, erodes someone’s integrity emotional intelligence and their decision making skills. It really irks me that the Vees are a far better “sin of lust” symbol than Asmodeus who has become quite pathetic?

Basically, his “Ozzies” characterisation would be perfect if it wasn’t a facade.

Beelzebub - She’s a drug Lord. Enough said. She’s the embodiment of the evils of the Pharmaceutical industry. She’s also too lazy to be confrontational and violent. The real bel is like this.

[statementlou]

my post yesterday about why I don't really care if Louis Tomlinson supports starbucks shocked me by actually circulating and getting notes and obviously I like validation and appreciation.... but I feel kind of weird about my big contribution to the topic being something that might come off as discouraging attempts to help Palestine. Feeling powerless in the face of such injustice is horrible and scary and traumatizing and while there are certain things that I do not think make much difference (like boycotting irrelevant targets), that's NOT how I feel about the situation in general! We CAN make a difference and help the Palestinian people! It can feel impossible to fight against all that power and propaganda and military might- but it has been done successfully over and over, colonialism has been destroyed in one place after another a hundred times in the last century, apartheid regimes have fallen, occupations have ended, because over and over, always, even all the military might in the literal world is less powerful than a united front of the PEOPLE. As Ursula K LeGuin said, "We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings", and as Louis Tomlinson said "The power and magic comes from the people, you guys. Don't undermine your role in all of this" and "get off the 'gram and into the streets"!

Under the cut are things you can do that I believe actually directly impact the Palestinian people and the Israeli government, including some easy ones, and the key to a successful movement is to have every type of contribution, to have NUMBERS. However- it is also necessary to have people willing to do the actual work of fighting injustice, not just changing their consumer habits or yelling at people online. I strongly encourage people to explore becoming physically involved in activist work, and not to see it as yet another tiring obligation but rather as a way to help yourself feel less overwhelmed and exhausted. Feeling powerless and defenseless is a trauma that follows us into every corner of our lives, but standing up and working for change can not only save lives, but is good for your own mental health as well, I promise.

I can't make you an exhaustive list of resources, only tell you some tactics that I believe are actually useful. I'm not an expert or whatever, but I have been actively involved in social justice advocacy, activism, and direct action for over 20 years and am drawing on that history of both things that worked and were great and things that were not from my personal experiences. Thank you to @captainrayzizuniverse for helping me (but she didn't see the post any stupid things said by mistake are entirely on me), and especially for pointing out a big (typical white person) slip up, which was to almost forget the very first item on this list: Listen to, support, and amplify Palestinian voices!!! The whole starbucks issue wouldn't even exist if people just went by this single important guideline and did the things Palestinians were asking for rather than making up other things to do instead. In life altogether, and speaking as a disabled person god does this come up a lot: if you want to help someone, start by asking them what they need and then do that even if it isn't what you think they should want. Don't fucking wing it!! Join local groups organizing for Palestine: the people united are powerful, but only if they are united and working in large groups! Join a group! This is hard because... how? who? And I can't answer that for everyone but I can tell you that in the US JVP (Jewish Voice for Peace) is doing a huge amount of very accessible recruiting, you can just join (you don't need to be Jewish) and get involved straightaway in the great actions they're putting on. PYM (Palestinian Youth Movement) is not open to everyone to join but you should definitely follow them on SM to keep up on actions and maybe find ways to support. If you're a student I bet there is some kind of group at your school?

Go to protests: protest works, period. The general politician rule of thumb is that anyone who bothers to actually go out and march represents 10-100 voters. When they look at the numbers (like- '500-1000 people protested the most recent bill you signed') they do this math and they worry. But also honestly if it's something you can manage- it's good for you. It helps. Even if you just go alone and don't talk to anyone, being in a crowd of hundreds of people feeling the same things you are, caring as much as you do, it helps. If you can, yell along to the chants as loud as you can. Get fired up and use that energy to keep going and not despair!

Call and write officials: if you live in the US or UK this is HUGE. What I said above about how they count people at protests as standing for more people who didn't bother but agree? Same with phone calls for sure, it REALLY pressures them. Many orgs make this really easy- I get emails all the time with links to send a letter in a single click or click to call and all you have to do is read the script, get on some lists I guess? But many sites also have this feature, JVP does for example

Support BDS: the Palestinian led BDS have been doing the work of isolating and chipping away at Israel for 19 years and like I said, the actions of the masses only work if we are united behind a few strategic targets rather than all over the place; they have made this possible. It's good to avoid buying from the companies they target; even better to work on the big divestment campaigns. For example, student groups pressuring the big universities to divest from BDS targets echo the successful University divestment efforts that helped end apartheid in South Africa.

Send money: money helps, immediately and concretely, and again if we are many, each person doesn't have to do a lot. Do what you can spare, it all adds up. This has been painful with Gaza for sure, with millions donating but aid being blocked. I don't have The Answer but here's a group I found that actually seems to be getting aid in, and here's a spread sheet of gofundmes- note that people who have foreign passports do not have to pay the horrible border crossing fees, so you may wish to focus on funding those who don't have that privilege. this could maybe be better and there was some other stuff I wanted to say about doing activism to tie up the "activism as self care" thing from above and also bringing it back around to talk about Louis more but I'm tired and I'm hungry right now and this is a lot already. So. Bye lol sorry. send me asks if any of that is something you care about or want to hear

[andreal831]

Glad you’re back!

What is your most unpopular opinion on both TVD and TO?

I love when y'all try to get me canceled.

Just joking. I'm all about honesty here, even if it is unpopular. I've talked about a lot of unpopular opinions so I'll try for ones I don't think I discuss that much. But remember, y'all asked for my most unpopular opinions, they are going to be unpopular.

I will make my normal disclaimer. This is simply a personal blog about a show that ended ten years ago. Yes, we have serious discussions, but at the end of the day, it is my opinion of my interpretation. Me not liking your favorite character/ship is not a reflection on you or your opinions. We can have civil conversations even if we disagree over opinions.

So without further ado.

My most unpopular opinion on TVD is that Delena is a bad ship and wouldn't work out in the long run. (Don't get angry, I'm tagging this appropriately. If you want to read this and have a genuine discussion, great. If not, please just scroll).

Damon was brought on the show as the main villain in season 1 and did unspeakable things to Elena and her friends. Yes, there are times we can move past this. I once said that Enzo is what they wanted Damon to be. I feel like in the later seasons they learned their mistakes and attempted to rewrite a lot of the history, but unfortunately, the history was already there. With Enzo, he did really messed up things, but his back story was directly linked to his terrible actions. Whereas Damon just did bad things because it was fun and then had a bit of a sad backstory.

Damon's issue is that he loves too deeply/obsessively. He was so obsessed with Katherine that he was willing to leave Stefan behind to become a vampire with her. He wanted to become a vampire for Katherine. He only changed his mind when he thought she was dead and then didn't want to turn with Stefan. Once he found out Katherine might be alive, he spent every second attempting to get her back. Even using Elena. He was not at all interested in Elena in Season 1, except to antagonize Stefan. He only really turns his interest on her when he loses hope of Katherine, essentially transferring his obsession.

Delena fans often say that Damon loved Elena for herself while Stefan only loved her as a human, but I disagree. Elena was most as herself as human, but once she got caught up in Damon, she began to become like Katherine. He essentially turned her into Katherine when he couldn't have Katherine.

We see repeatedly that Elena chose Stefan over Damon when she had the choice. Damon and Elena have some nice moments, but it was clearly platonic/boyfriend's brother vibes. She cared for him because Stefan did. They only get closer when Stefan is forced to leave town and Damon does everything in his power to turn Elena away from Stefan. But even after that, she was still choosing Stefan.

The sirebond was the nail in the coffin for Delena in my opinion. I may have been able to get past some things if they hadn't done that. Elena never wanted to be a vampire. She says this so many times and even talks about wanting to die rather than being a vampire. Stefan shows Elena the positives of vampirism, but somehow Damon gets credit for it because of the Whitmore House scene. I think people forget the scene immediately after she runs off the dance floor, when she disgusted by what she's done. Between the thrill of the moment and the sirebond, she acts in a way that she never wanted to and regrets it instantly. Damon showed her the parts of vampirism she feared, but because the scene is sexy people love it.

And this isn't the first time we see Damon not having respect for Elena's decisions. When he forced blood down her throat before the ceremony. Or when he yells over the phone that they shouldn't listen to her about Elijah. When he kills Aaron because 'she' broke up with him. This never gets better. The only character development we really see in Damon is when he becomes friends with Bonnie. No, I don't think it is a girlfriend's job to 'fix' their boyfriend, but they should at least bring out a good side of them. Delena brought out the worst sides in each other.

I'm honestly not even advocating for Stelena. If anything, I think Matt and Elena could have had a nice life together. Or just be a normal girl and go meet someone in college or later in life. Damon didn't want the normal human life and Elena didn't want the violent vampire life. They have so little in common, not even their morals or principals. I just found them to be a really unbelievable couple. The flirtation was more interesting to me than anything that happened after they got together.

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

My TO opinion: Kol is kind of a one-dimensional character and benefits very heavily from pretty-privilege. (Again, no need to read if this will just upset you)

I am talking about Nate, but I refuse to put his face on my page. But I will try and put my hate of him aside to talk about Kol.

Kol could have been a really interesting character if he was given more time and more backstory, but the show just didn't go there and left so much up to the audience to fill in the blanks.

We first meet Kol in TVD and he essentially is the Mikaelson psychotic "enforcer." He is wild and unruly, doing whatever he wants. Like targeting Matt for no reason at the Mikaelson ball when even Klaus was on his best behavior. I really feel like they made Kol the way they did to make Klaus look like the sane, practical one since Klaus was quickly becoming a fan favorite.

The storyline with the Cure was interesting, but we don't really get a lot of the backstory of how Kol knew what he knew. I would have loved some flashbacks with Kol and the witches that he supposedly learned this from. But as interesting as this storyline was, it did little to flesh out Kol as a character. He spent most of his time just trying to kill everyone to prevent Silas from being released. It would have been more impactful if they had given Kol a bigger motivation. Explained his backstory with Silas more. I left TVD not really caring if Kol came back. We got one little sad story right before he died about Klaus unfairly daggering him, but really after seeing how unhinged he was in TVD, I kind of didn't care that he was daggered. I felt worse for Finn who seemed relatively harmless.

I didn't mind Kol as a witch too much, but again, felt his character was little more than a charming rake. We knew he was only flirting with Davina initially for his mother, and I even buy his quick infatuation with her since we know he likes powerful witches, but his betrayal of Rebekah just felt impulsive and dumb. It took away from the genius witch they were trying to create. Sure he learned a lot of tricks with the dark objects from witches, but then he imprisoned his sister in an instable witch he did zero research on while his family was still in danger. It felt like he was less of a developed character and more of a plot device.

Similar to Damon, I just didn't feel like his backstory was enough to make me sympathetic. I know we are told he was daggered a lot, but we are also told that he was off on his own a lot. In the 11th century we know Kol had gone off on his own and then for much of the middle centuries he is exploring and meeting witches. The few times we see him in flashbacks, he is covered in blood, smiling at the death he created. I know people say he went off the deep end because of his loss of magic, but the show should have done a better job fleshing that story out. Really go into his spiral, because it happened very quickly. Kol was the only one reveling in killing in 1001, a year after they became vampires. This is also our first encounter with Kol as we don't see him during their human flashbacks. The only daggering we really see that felt unjust was in the 1900s when he was attempting to turn the witches against Klaus and create a weapon. But that also felt out of place in how Rebekah betrayed him but then wanted to do the same a mere year later.

The back and forth with his family also annoyed me. One moment he was building a weapon to put Klaus down and the next he was hugging him, just wanting to be a part of 'always and forever.' I understand why Davina was so annoyed by it. They attempted to garner sympathy for Kol based on how he was not part of 'always and forever' but he never really seemed to want to be. Every chance he had to leave them, he did. I don't blame him, but he can't be mad for not being included when he was always leaving. Even in 1001, Kol was the first one to suggest they split up. He and Finn left immediately after being turned and leaving Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah to clean up the mess their family made. This tracked through their 1000 years. He even parties with Klaus multiple times after being undaggered, holding it against Rebekah more than anyone. He never seemed to care for any of his siblings outside of Klaus and yet Klaus was the one harming him the most.

Like most of the characters honestly, if Kol had been played by a less attractive or charismatic person, he would have been despicable and annoying at times. I will own that he has moments of character growth in the later seasons of TO, but they all felt like they came out of nowhere since they appeared to happen off camera. Even his relationship with Hope felt strange in Season 5 when he hardly even acknowledged his niece in the previous seasons except to use her to save Davina. His character, to me, felt like it was constantly changing to fit whatever role they needed him to play so he became less of a character and more of a plot device making it hard for me to connect with him or truly understand his underlying character.

******

Again, don't hate me if you disagree. These are just some unpopular opinions I don't think I've talked about on here.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Listening to "If I Loved You" and holy shit it just hit me that Pete and Steph and Max and Grace are really good reflections of each other. There's the similarities, like-

Max and Steph are the two popular kids in the dynamic, both pursue the nerds rather than the reverse.

Pete and Grace are both hesitant in pursuing that relationship, one out of fear, one out of conviction.

Both Max and Steph use their social power to (attempt to) protect their nerd. Max knocks Kyle out for insulting Grace, and Steph being willing to stand up for Pete makes him a peer in the eyes of the other popular kids. (Max excluded)

Both couples having sexual feelings for each other plays a major role in their respective stories (Abstinence Camp for Steph/Pete, NPMD for Grace/Max)

But what I think is most interesting is the differences. For instance-

Pete spends a lot of time considering his potential friendship/relationship with Steph, analyzing his own self-perception ("am I cooler than I think I am?") And considering how Steph thinks about herself ("She's smarter than she thinks she is"). On the other hand, Grace doesn't think about Max in any real way beyond her own fantasy. Max does seem romantically interested in her, but Grace fantasizes about having a no-strings-attached physical relationship ("I won't care about you!") As a side note, it's very interesting to me that the line "a one-way ticket power trip" seems to be referring to Grace, not Max. She doesn't want a relationship, she wants to feel powerful, which is very different.

Grace and Max are... Caustic. A lot would have to change in order for their dynamic to be healthy. Their relationship is very new and immature and self-serving. Grace thinks of Max as a means to an end, and Max is pushy and disrespectful of her obvious boundaries.

Steph and Pete are the complete opposite. Even when they're trying to be mean to each other their words are still rooted in a deep care for the other's well-being. "If I loved you like you should be loved" is literally them trying to say "I don't like you!" but accidentally adding "At least not in the way you are deserving of because you are important to me and I only want the best for you! AAGGH!!!"

"Loved you like I'm capable of" can be directly translated to "if I liked you in that way you would KNOW because my heart would be SO FULL and I would show you EVERY DAY how MUCH you MEAN TO ME!! But I DON'T! So THERE!"

Even when Steph and Pete are actively trying to antagonize each other, their actions and words can all be drawn back to the fact that, romantic or not, they really, really care about each other, and that's the bedrock of their relationship. God I love these two

I'm just such a sucker for narrative parallels you guys

[dyinggirldied]

No One Knows AU + Time Loop Trope: where Vlad, who discovers Danny's halfa status, determines to break Danny's spirit and molds him into the perfect son.

Valerie, the Red Huntress, is willing to do anything as long as she can get rid of the ghost boy. And Vlad plays her like a fiddle.

Vlad plans for all but he underestimates Valerie's vengance which will ultimately ends in Danny's demise and the heartbreaking identity reveal just too little too late.

Except, Danny reverts. Back to the seconds after the portal has essentially fried him up. He tries to make sure this second chance different, tries to make it better.

Only, he fails.

And he wakes up from the darkness of death to where it all begins.

And so it continues. Again and again. He makes friends. He loses them. He gets killed. Sometimes by Red Huntress, sometimes by his parents. Occasionally by other ghosts.

And without fail he wakes up every time, fourteen and a ghost with human heart and a human with ghost powers.

By the time loop hundred something arrives, he has a concrete plan.

Vlad never expects for an exhausted, dead-eyed Danny to knock on his mansion door. Nor does he expect for Danny to fall into his arms, lost and shaking.

This, is better than any outcome in his imagination. He should be suspicious if this is the boy's ploy to catch him of guard but he dimisses the possibility.

Daniel is a childish boy, a menance but he is straightforward and kind, entirely too heroic. Such a dirty handtrick isn't in his vocabulary.

Oh, if only he knows.

So, with firm conviction, he lets the boy in and even personally prepares a set of tea (hot chocolate for Daniel, of course) and biscuits.

The boy mindlessly drinks and the silence passes on like that, accompanies by the dutiful sounds of the old grandfather clock and the rumbling of the night sky.

He attempts to start the conversation but each turn the boy remaines numb and silent.

Vlad sips on the tea again, the taste a bit spicy than usual but he ignores it, blaming his rising temper.

It's only when he tries to rile on the boy that something changes. Daniel flinches but he looks up. There is something there, an emotion between pity and mocking, in those green-blue eyes.

" I'm sorry Vlad." The boy speaks for what must be the first time since he entered Vlad's home. "I really am don't want to do this but I'm running out of time."

Before he can demand the boy to explain what nonsense he just spews, Vlad coughes, the earlier hint of spiciness in his tongue now burns.

Red decorates the expensive mahogny table and splashes some on the carpet but all Vlad feels is pain.

His vision edges to blurriness when a cold touch lands on his head.

"Sleep." The voice commands and in this second and the next Vlad Masters is gone.

Danny, staring at the corpse of the man who could have been a mentor or a parental figure to him, sighs.

In a speey motion no one can forsee, Danny swallows the remains of Blood Blossom powder he has packed.

It is revolting and every sense in his body demands he expel this foreign, dangerous substance but he persist.

He soon joins the cooling corpse on the floor, spurting blood as he does so.

He knows he has angered the being that has cursed him into this enternal, unbreakable loop of hell but he doesn't care.

Death has been cheated out of him so now he is only going to take what was clearly his.

With a bloodied smile, Danny Fenton dies.

Brief explain, in this AU blood blossoms if consume directly can kill a ghost into oblivion. As in, nothing is left. No soul, no anything.

A half ghost, if consumes, will experience the same thing. That's why Danny does it, because Clockwork can only revert time for Danny if he has a soul to go back. No soul, no deal. He outwits the ancient ghost.

[11queensupreme11]

Im sorry but WHAT are these ancient fucking laws I keep reading about in so many percy jackson fics 😭😭 I read the books a long time ago, so I don't remember it, but I thought it was just a fanon thing to explain why the gods are neglectful?

OKAY IM REALLY GLAD YOU ASKED THIS CUZ YOU'RE NOT ALONE

ive seen so many comments in arsenic blues from ppl who believe that ALL the gods are being WILLINGLY neglectful towards their kids, and that is NOT true.

the ancient laws are a canon thing in pjo. it's been mentioned many many times, but through scattered discussion. here's a list of dialogues that talk/mention it (the quotes were taken from this helpful reddit post btw)

example 1:

"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. “He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favouritism.” “Even to their own children?” “Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift.”

example 2:

“Permission to kill, my lady?” I couldn’t tell who she was talking to, because she kept her eyes on the manticore. The monster wailed. ‘This is not fair! Direct interference! It is against the Ancient Laws.”

example 3:

"Why show yourself now?" Luke demanded. His shoulders were tense, as if he expected a fight. "All these years I've been calling to you, praying you'd show up, and nothing. You left me with her." He pointed toward the kitchen like he couldn't bear to look at his mother, much less say her name. "Luke, do not dishonor her," Hermes warned. "Your mother did the best she could. As for me, I could not interfere with your path. The children of the gods must find their own way."

example 4:

“Luke, I care very much,’ Hermes said slowly, ‘but gods must not interfere directly in mortal affairs. It is one of our Ancient Laws. Especially when your destiny ...” His voice trailed off.

example 5:

My heart sank. Chiron was right, but it was all we could muster. For once I wished Dionysus were here, but even if he had been, I didn’t know if he could have done anything. When it came to war, gods were forbidden to interfere directly. Apparently, the Titans didn’t believe in restrictions like that.

example 6:

Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. ‘Percy, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem ... well, that would only create more problems and more resentment.

example 7:

“Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades – and I imagine Poseidon does – they couldn’t retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other’s territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they’re bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero’s actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?”

example 8:

"Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly-that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

don't get me wrong, there are gods who couldn't care less about their kids and willingly neglect them, but it's veeeery wrong to believe that ALL the gods are like this. it's canon that gods cannot interfere in their children's lives, even if they want to. they don't neglect their kids because they don't care about them, they do it because they don't have a choice.

hermes and luke's relationship shows this perfectly. hermes IS a good dad (he's actually one of the best imo). he knew what luke's fate would be and TRIED to change it even though everyone knew it would be impossible, but he was desperate anyway because he loved his son and wanted to try and save him.

unfortunately, every attempt to change his fate always failed (because duh, can't change fate): he sent luke on a quest to "build him up as a hero" only for luke to fail and get a scar, asked percy and annabeth to save him, but they failed too (he even snapped at annabeth for failing to go with his son).

sooo yeah! like i said, there are some godly parents that willingly neglect their kids because they don't care about them, but that's not the case for every single god. there ARE gods who care about their kids, they're just forbidden to interact with them, and that means they can't raise them either.

[jaguarys]

The first time Owen Lars meets Anakin Skywalker, he is twelve, and the latter is nine, or so he believes. Of course, he will never learn any better. He will have his suspicions, as will anyone else who has the chance to interact with the child in any more than a cursory conversation, but he will never approach Ani directly.

(One day, he will ask their mother. She will smile, turn away, and say, “Some things don’t need to be questioned.”

Which will, of course, answer nothing and yet everything.)

The Skywalkers’ impromptu freedom is the talk of their small community. No one has seen anything like it, and Owen, for all his youth, can see the way it bristles at the slavers. So can his father.

For their newfound pride, newfound independence, newfound freedom, the Skywalkers keep their heads down. It rankles at Owen, the first time they meet, the need for any humility at all. But he knows, just as any Tatooine native knows, just as anyone with sense knows, that it is a need all the same.

Cliegg Lars offers the mother and son a safe place to stay for as long as they need. Owen will tease his father for years that it was solely a way to get closer to his future wife. Cliegg will smile ruefully, but won’t deny anything; Shmi, for her part, will only ever click her tongue in teasing.

A twelve year old Owen finds Ani a strange little thing. He doesn’t act like any child Owen has met, or any child at all, and as such he’s not really sure what to do with him.

So this is what he does: he ignores him, for some time. He tries to tease, because Owen has and always will have a sharp tongue and a lack of care for whoever may be at its end. This doesn’t work, because Ani seems more amused by it than anything else, if in the way that one might be amused by a small animal doing its best to seem menacing.

Safe to say: he quickly gives this up.

After that, he switches to a half-hearted attempt to befriend this strange child who lurks around the house and has a tendency to disappear into the desert for days at a time. Their mother doesn't seem concerned, so he's not either, even if from the moment he was old enough to understand and likely before he has been told, over and over, that there is nothing more dangerous than the desert.

He tries to follow Ani only once. He creeps behind him for a little ways, bitter at how this little kid seems so at ease in the terrain, at how this child seems like he's never been built for anywhere else. As if he could melt into the desert if Owen lets his eyes stray for even a second.

He hides behind a nearby rock when Ani comes to a stop. He squints to watch as Ani kneels in the sand, and he realizes quickly Ani is uncovering something buried.

He can't tell what it is at first. Some sort of machinery piece, he thinks. And then Ani presses it, and red light ignites.

Owen knows of legends, and there is nothing more mystical, more magical than Jedi. Owen has never seen one; he is at that age, the time in his life in which he begins to question the stories he has been told. He has, on occasion, wondered if things such as Jedi exist, and if so, why they do not come to Tatooine. For Jedi are helpers, and Tatooine needs help as much as anywhere.

Ani is a Jedi, he decides. Owen does not know much, not past stories of magic and blades of light.

He watches red light reflect off his younger brother's face, watches his features twist into something else, something older, something nonhuman, and he thinks of old legends of hidden, true faces.

He fears his brother, in this moment. He will never stop fearing him, not truly. He will watch his face change, out of the corner of his eye, when he thinks no one is watching. He will watch him become something else. Something dark. Something powerful. Something that he has always been and always will be, even if they choose not to recognize. It bubbles under the surface, constantly, like a pot about to boil over.

And yet, he feels something else as well, in this moment. Recognition, perhaps. Because this is his brother. Not the child, not even the human.

Because he has his answers.

He watches as Ani turns off the sword and sets it back down in the sand, watches as he covers it back up until it's buried again. Like it was never there at all. Owen could almost convince himself he never saw any of it at all.

But he can't, and he wouldn't try. Instead, he simply watches Ani walk past his hiding spot and tries to convince himself there's no way he knows he's there. Instead, he simply waits there longer than he probably needs to, trying to convince himself that it's alright, that nothing has changed when so much has.

Because it's not simply learning of this hidden thing, it's not something that is confined to the desert, much as he wants to believe it.

He will never stop fearing his brother.

When he ducks back into the homestead for dinner, when he settles at the table alongside their parents, Ani's eye catches him.

Owen knows then, that it was a test. That Ani wants to know, now, what he will say, if he will say anything at all.

Tatooine trades in secrets, and Owen keeps his. His brother has a sword of light buried in the desert, and it is red. His brother is a Jedi, or so Owen believes, and he keeps his secrets.

His brother is something else, something inhuman, something other, and Owen keeps his secrets.

>>

This is part of my fanfic, It's Quicker and Easier to Eat Your Young, which is posted on my AO3! Please consider checking it out!

[dolphin1812]

It’s always somewhat hilarious when Hugo interrupts a moment of extreme tension to remind us that Jean Valjean is absurdly strong, but here, I also found it moving? I think it’s the combination of that with his devotion to Cosette. His first thought about being caught is this:

“And the galleys now meant not only the galleys, but Cosette lost to him forever; that is to say, a life resembling the interior of a tomb.”

Cosette being gone would be worse than the galleys! And he’s also thinking about death (a “tomb”) as a negative because it’s void of Cosette! That’s such a radical change for him, and it’s wonderful to see that she’s brought so much life to him. He’s also completely unwilling to leave her behind, and although the way he convinces her to be quiet is a bit harsh (understandable given the need for quiet and the horrific consequences if they’re caught, but cruel, because Cosette’s trauma is still very recent), it’s nice to see him not even think of leaving her and be so careful in their ascent to keep from hurting her. 

I also like the smaller details about his escape here that reveal the usefulness of his skillset. Hugo does not that he learned to climb like this in one of his escape attempts, but I found the tiny details that he doesn’t discuss explicitly interesting as well. For instance, he breaks a box to get the rope with his knife, confirming the usefulness of what he keeps in his giant coat pockets (unfortunately, we haven’t seen him pull out a wig for this escape, but I guess there’s always next time). He also ties the rope with “that knot which seafaring men call a “swallow knot,” which he likely learned to do in the galleys. These small things say a lot about his life experience, even if Hugo doesn’t directly point out where and how he learned them.

As for Cosette, it was sad to see her so scared, but it also felt realistic? This part in particular seemed to reflect a lot about her character at this point:

“Nevertheless, the hour, the place, the darkness, Jean Valjean’s absorption, his singular gestures, his goings and comings, all had begun to render Cosette uneasy. Any other child than she would have given vent to loud shrieks long before. She contented herself with plucking Jean Valjean by the skirt of his coat. They could hear the sound of the patrol’s approach ever more and more distinctly.

“Father,” said she, in a very low voice, “I am afraid. Who is coming yonder?”

“Hush!” replied the unhappy man; “it is Madame Thénardier.”

Cosette shuddered. He added:—

“Say nothing. Don’t interfere with me. If you cry out, if you weep, the Thénardier is lying in wait for you. She is coming to take you back.””

Cosette’s ability to stay quiet comes from two things: her trust in Valjean, and her trauma. On the one hand, she’s comfortable enough around him to assume that she’s safe for far longer than would be typical. She even feels safe expressing that fear to him, and she gets closer to him instead of crying out. On the other, Cosette doesn’t really have a good grasp of what is typical to be afraid of because of her time with the Thénardiers. That time of living in constant danger, contrasted with the safety of Valjean, makes it difficult for her to evaluate these situations, especially since she’s so young. Being unnaturally quiet may even be one of her ways of coping with fear, since she had to avoid drawing attention to herself or risk beatings. We know that she did cry at times, but she also “never sang.” “Singing” would be a happy sound, and we know she wasn’t happy at all, but it could also be that she was generally quiet as well.

Cosette’s “shudder” is also the same reaction Jean Valjean has to Javert, paralleling their situations. In a way, Valjean isn’t lying when he says Mme Thénardier is after them, because that’s who Javert is to him (and of course, there’s the risk Cosette would be sent back to them if she wasn’t put somewhere else entirely). Both are disadvantaged in some way because of class (Javert was born in prison, and while the Thénardiers seem well-off compared to the rest of Montfermeil, they’re deeply in debt and certainly have never been rich), but instead of allying with others in their situation, they take out their frustrations on others. True, they do this in different ways and with different rationales (”incapable of loving anyone outside of one’s daughters” and “the Law is always right” are two drastically different mindsets), but for Valjean and Cosette, the effect is the same: a sense of constant danger.

[themattress]

Posting here due to having talked about this very subject recently (manga vs. anime).

I basically think that this guy is way off in a lot of his critiques, notably:

- Criticizing the monster-of-the-week structure for the anime in favor of the manga's plot!plot!plot! pacing. I feel like that sort of pacing works fine for a monthly (not even weekly) manga, but not so much for an anime with this concept. Toei actually approached Naoko Takeuchi with the suggestion to do Sailor Moon (a tokusatsu series) based on her earlier Codename Sailor V work, which actually had a monster-of-the-week structure, so honestly the anime's style of pacing was ironically more what the Sailor Moon concept was tailored around than the manga! It also allows the world and characters to be more fleshed out than in the manga, which always had difficulty in that area especially for side characters and villains.

- His criticism of Usagi and Rei was totally off-base. He was correct in how Usagi's constant regressions as the anime went on did her no favors, but she was fine to start with. Her freezing up and giving into despair over her friends' deaths in the first anime season's climax isn't any less weak than her attempting suicide over Mamoru's death which would leave her friends at the mercy of Metalia in the first manga arc's climax. Rei's personality change in the anime was for the better, IMO, and her dynamic with Usagi may have been overplayed at times but I never got the impression they legitimately hated each other nor did I get the impression it was sexism on the male writers' parts. Vitriolic Best Buds is a legitimate thing.

- While I also don't much care how Usagi and Mamoru's romance develops in the anime compared to the manga (and I absolutely hate the pointless age gap the anime added between them), I have to defend Mamoru from his accusation that he was hypocritical to give righteous speeches as Tuxedo Mask yet be an asshole as a civilian. Unlike in the manga, Tuxedo Mask was initially a split personality from Mamoru. He didn't know he was Tuxedo Mask at first, the two didn't get integrated until he got ahold of a Rainbow Crystal in Episode 26. After that, he actually began treating Usagi with more kindness. He was too proud to just apologize and still tried to act stand-offish, but he clearly didn't have it in him to be a complete jerk anymore and was actually fond of her now. The romance still pulls too abrupt a 180 given that Usagi doesn't soften on him until Episode 34, and even then not on the level justifiable enough for love, but the fact remains that Mamoru did straighten out his act after integrating with the Tuxedo Mask persona (which is good since he really was insufferable beforehand).

- The Dark Kingdom was superior in the anime, period. Yes, it was a bigger threat in the manga, but being threatening doesn't always equate to being interesting. He has a point that Queen Beryl is more interesting in the manga than in the anime and I do wish the anime had included more of that stuff rather than just allude to it, but I still say she's stronger as the Big Bad than just as Metalia's chief pawn. Metalia is boring; she's made of evil and does evil because she's evil and can't be anything else. Beryl actually has a motivation, and one that is directly tied with the main heroine and her romantic interest. That's why it's more satisfying to see her infused with Metalia as the Final Boss instead of just her as the third-to-last Boss.

- Lastly, he got the Silver Crystal thing wrong. The Rainbow Crystals are shards of the physical Silver Crystal, but what gives it its power, its spiritual essence, is still Usagi's soul. That's why they couldn't just be merged into the Silver Crystal even after Kunzite had all seven. That only happened when the tear from Usagi, with all the feelings of her soul, was added. The Silver Crystal is thus linked with her soul and is still its manifestation, as seen in the R movie where she dies when its shattered but when she is restored to life it is repaired.

Things I agree with: axing Princess Serenity's suicide was a good choice, the stretch of episodes with Evil Tuxedo Mask were dumb, the changes in powers for the girls and Tuxedo Mask was stupid and pointless, Minako's character regression across the anime was annoying and kind of disrespectful when you really think about it, Yuichiro should've amounted to more, the age change and adaptational jerkassery of Mamoru was terrible, Jadeite's sudden misogyny in his final episode was really fucking weird, the scene where Artemis is "revealed" as Luna's contact makes no sense and should've been cut, Usagi's suicide in the original manga and Crystal did her character a grave disservice, and the Shitennou's adaptational expansion in Crystal was utterly botched and ended laughably.