#so I'm making up for lost time. Constantly.

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

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[fairy-spring]

I’ve read over this essay several times over the past few weeks. It wasn’t because of a profound realization or anything, but more because with each successive read I was squinting my eyes harder and harder as I sat there thinking, “None of these words are in the bible.” I also had to dig around and find your proper, published essay from 2017, as this post is simply an abbreviated version of that publication which is missing essential points of your argument and kinda muddied the whole read for me.

You had another post in 2020 dabbling on Midna and Ganondorf’s interactions which, uh… I also had to read through several times.

I'm going to be courteous and put everything I mean to say under a read more, both for the sake of anyone who happens upon this post and for you, in case you don't feel a want or need to even look.

I think I have to start with tackling the crux of this essay: the thought that Ganondorf is gradually humanized during the entire four-phase battle with him, that Ganondorf was written as “an unquiet postcolonial ghost,” and that players are meant to experience, essentially, a hate crime.

“Throughout most of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf is characterized as a ruthless tribal warlord who attacked Hyrule because of his lust for power. As indicated by his monologues and gradual humanization over the course of the final battle, however, Ganondorf represents much more than simply an evil to be defeated. He is introduced to the player as a foolish man who became evil incarnate, and he does little more than scream in rage and pain when the player first sees him in a flashback. When he is allowed to speak for himself, however, he reveals himself to be highly intelligent with motivations that are not unsympathetic.” (The History of Light and Shadow)

While I do agree that Ganondorf may have motives rooted in the eradication of the Gerudo, the problem is that, in order to have this context, players must have played Ocarina of Time first.

Ocarina of Time really set in stone the animosity between the Gerudo and the other peoples of Hyrule, given how wearing the Gerudo mask evokes anything from townsfolk in Castle Town screaming in fear to Darunia straight up saying, “I hate the Gerudo!”

Without that context, however, any potential humanization in this aspect is lost, for lack of a better term.

I don’t know how else to explain that Wind Waker is masterful in its humanization of Ganondorf because it talks about Ocarina of Time. Ocarina of Time is the ghost haunting the narrative of Wind Waker. The game opens with a retelling of Ocarina of Time’s plot, Link is compared to the Hero of Time by elder deities such as the Deku Tree and Valoo, Daphnes constantly hammers in how Link was not chosen by the gods like OoT Link or even TP Link were, the boy has to hunt for the pieces of the Triforce of Courage that had shattered after the Hero of Time wound up in Termina, literally picking up the pieces the Hero of Time left behind! And when Link finally enters Hyrule Castle, what is there to greet him but the statue of the Hero of Time?

So, it makes perfect sense, then, that Ganondorf in Wind Waker would reflect on what led him up to this point. Of course he would think on his foiled plot, on the people he abandoned, the people who disappeared because of him. And of course, because he is so set in his ways and so stubbornly determined to fulfill his goal, Ganondorf wants not the Great Sea the goddesses left behind, but Hyrule. Because he’s always wanted Hyrule.

Perhaps more than any other game, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker is the true sequel to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

In contrast, in The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, the events of Ocarina of Time didn’t happen. Any reference to Ocarina of Time is referred to as “ancient,” as if hushed whispers from a distant past. While Wind Waker hammers Ocarina of Time over the player’s head with its plot beats, character interactions, and imagery, Twilight Princess functions more as an echo of Ocarina of Time. The gameplay is similar and Link bears a striking resemblance to the Hero of Time, but the game itself is largely separated from Ocarina, with Ganondorf as the enigmatic specter behind the scenes, a literal ghost story uttered by the petrified spirits of a forgotten age.

Because of this quiet refusal to discuss Ocarina of Time, players aren’t allowed to understand Ganondorf. It is why he feels so weakly written compared to his Adult Timeline counterpart. People in Hyrule today know nothing of the Gerudo. Link’s map refers to Gerudo Desert as “The Great Desert.” It is a forbidden place, only accessible via cannon as the main pathways are blocked off. The desert itself is empty, deprived of life or civilization, with the only places of note being a Sky Puzzle and the Cave of Ordeals.

It is a subtle horror, yes. The thought of an entire people, an entire culture and way of life being wiped off the face of the earth, erased by a country that refuses to discuss ancient sins and would rather focus on the everyday or on borderline cryptids like the Oocca is a poignant one. As you’ve said, it mirrors post-imperialist movements to censor or downplay unsavory moments in history, from American textbooks attempting to downplay slavery to Japanese efforts to wipe away thoughts of Korean comfort women.

But you need Ocarina of Time to understand it.

If any player is just as clueless as Link and going through this journey for the first time, Ganondorf is portrayed exactly the way the game wants him to be: as a menacing, power-hungry, evil man who puts himself above the gods themselves, given his defacing the effigies of the goddesses when Midna confronts him in Hyrule Castle’s throne room.

Furthermore, Ganondorf’s acts throughout the final battle do little to humanize him. In his first monologue, he:

Degrades Midna and her people and refers to them and the Fused Shadow as inferior beings and “petty magic”

Dangles Princess Zelda over Midna and Link's heads like a trophy

Puts himself on the same level as the goddesses by wielding one of their pieces and defacing the Royal Family’s images of them

Upon being met with defiance from Midna, then possesses Zelda as a means to personally hurt Midna and force Link to confront Zelda

credit for the above gifs goes to @hyrulehistoria on tumblr

On this last bullet in particular, it’s certainly… interesting that you stated this regarding Puppet Zelda:

“Ganondorf later possesses Zelda as a means of forcing Link to sheath his sword before a real battle can commence, and this hostage strategy is awful. Nevertheless, the bluntness of this ultimatum should have been effective. When Link proves that he will not hesitate to kill even Zelda herself, only then is Ganondorf overcome with rage.” (03/27/2020)

Whereas in actual gameplay, Link is incapable of harming Zelda’s body. The entire fight against Puppet Zelda is comprised of Dead Man’s Volley, where you’re turning Ganon’s magic against him and stunning him; or, simply evading Puppet Zelda’s attacks as Ganondorf has her flying sword first at you. During this entire fight, Link is unable to strike Zelda’s body with the Master Sword, nor can he fire an arrow at her. This first phase isn’t about killing Zelda; rather, it’s about incapacitating Ganondorf.

credit for above gifs goes to @sacredflames on tumblr

Link clearly shows visible relief when Midna squishes Ganondorf out of Zelda, I don’t know how you missed that one.

credit to @fuckyeahlink on tumblr

In phase two, Ganondorf doesn’t utter a word, instead morphing into Beast Ganon in an effort to destroy Link. When that doesn’t work, he enshrouds Hyrule Castle in twilight, where Link and Zelda would be incapable of battling Ganondorf directly. Midna then teleports the two out of Hyrule Castle and dons the Fused Shadow, facing Ganondorf alone.

When next we see Ganondorf, he is on horseback, and he has a new trophy: Midna’s helmet.

Everything up to this point paints Ganondorf as the “ruthless tribal warlord” the sages characterize him as. I genuinely don’t know how you saw Ganondorf explicitly regarding the Twili’s greatest power so lowly that he destroys it and practically tramples it with his ghost riders, and then said this:

“When we next see Ganondorf, he is holding Midna’s crown, which crumbles to dust in his hand. We think he’s killed Midna, but of course he hasn’t. Ganondorf has spared Midna’s life and obliterated the cursed artifact that transformed her into an uncontrollable monstrosity. This incident marks the last time we see Midna in her imp form, which means that the spell on her has now been lifted.

“Ganondorf has suffered through war, genocide, and unimaginable physical pain, yet he does not kill Midna, who has openly attempted to kill him. He takes the formidable weapon Midna has been assembling throughout the game and, instead of using it, destroys it.” (03/27/2020)

(Sidenote: Where on earth did you gather that the Fused Shadow is uncontrollable? Midna was simply inexperienced with it the first time she used its full potential, which is why she collapses after breaking the barrier surrounding Hyrule Castle. She used the Fused Shadow to squeeze Ganondorf out of Zelda’s body like a lemon, and seemed to have a perfectly good handle on it when using it to face Ganondorf alone.)

((Double sidenote: The very last time we see Midna in her imp form is after Ganondorf’s death, where she is sitting in Hyrule Field with the Light Spirits. That’s the whole reason why Link runs to her. Because the Light Spirits revived her. And they lifted her curse. Look, they even look at the camera like, “Heeeeeey, we got your girl~”))

((Did… Did you forget that?))

Just before the final phase of the battle, Ganondorf unsheathes his own blade, regarding Link’s as “impressive looking… but nothing more,” and then makes a declaration to “blot out the light forever.”

With his final words, Ganondorf hisses out, “Do not think this ends here… The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!”

You have interpreted these final utterings as a warning to Link and Princess Zelda:

“At the end of Twilight Princess, broken and defeated, Ganondorf still finds the strength to warn Zelda and Link about how a cycle of hatred has created a history ‘written in blood.’” (03/27/2020)

However, I choose to read it more as a final “Fuck you,” much in the same way that Demise’s curse in Skyward Sword could be read. However, both readings are mere speculation, not fact. We may never know the “true” meaning of Ganondorf’s words, which I quite like.

Now, I fully agree with the sentiment that, symbolically, Ganondorf is the ghost of the old world returning to terrorize a postcolonial country. However, at least in my interpretation, Ganondorf is not humanized by the game’s narrative. Any potential depth that Ganondorf has must be inferred, as according to plain text, he is simply the most evilest villain ever and must be stopped no matter what.

Is it the tired, racist stereotype of the barbaric, war-mongering brown man seeking to destroy the good and pure fragile kingdom? Yes, it very much is. It is sadly a very easy way for Nintendo to shorthand why Ganondorf is so evil and terrible and must be purged from this good and blessed nation. That said, I firmly believe that Ganondorf is portrayed exactly the way Nintendo wanted him to be: as an egotistical, self-righteous, manipulative man, who believes himself untouchable and deserving of Hyrule because he, too, was chosen by the gods.

Is there a hypocrisy to criticizing Ganondorf for holding godlike aspirations, when the descendants of the Goddess Hylia have held dominion over Hyrule for countless generations? Yes, there is. I won’t deny that. However, we must remember that Twilight Princess was released before Skyward Sword came along and did that; so, within the context of this game, Hyrule was just ruled by a royal family, not a goddess-blessed-mandate-of-heaven one.

All that aside, there is something else I need to mention, too: Why Midna shattered the Mirror of Twilight.

You have stated multiple times that Ganondorf’s death was wrongful, and it is that hate-filled death that makes Midna realize Hyrule has no place for people like Ganondorf or herself, which is why she chooses to shatter the mirror. You’ve also stated that Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf?

“… Link kills him anyway, and the cruelty of this act convinces Midna that it’s impossible for her to remain in Hyrule as an ethnic minority.” (10/20/2024)

“… but it is significant that this occurs immediately after she has witnessed the fight between Link and Ganondorf.” (… Light and Shadow)

Which, uh…

Midna was dead during that. I know a lot of people didn’t play Twilight Princess, so I need to reiterate: Midna was dead during that. She didn’t see that.

Even if she did, Midna literally wanted him dead five minutes ago. She declared to his face, “I will risk everything to deny you!” Why would Ganondorf’s death suddenly influence her to do something so drastic, if she wasn’t already thinking of this throughout the second half of the game?

I suppose there is a cryptic aspect to Midna’s final interaction with Link and Princess Zelda, wherein she states: “Light and shadow can’t mix, as we all know.”

Did Midna believe she will never belong in Hyrule? Did she, as you state, realize that “there is no room for ‘monsters’ in Hyrule[?]”

To land on this sentiment, however, is to forget a very literal aspect of Midna’s existence in Hyrule: Until she was blessed with light, whether it be from Zelda’s aspect or from the Light Spirits themselves, Midna physically could not live in Hyrule. In the first half of the game, when she isn’t in the twilight, Midna will retreat into Link’s shadow.

It’s the only place where she is safe; otherwise, the light will harm her. This is most evident when Zant turns the Light Spirit, Lanayru, against Midna, and the poor imp is hit with a full blast of concentrated light.

Like, the light literally almost killed her. It stands to reason that the other Twili would more than likely react the exact same way.

I guess in that way, you are correct. Midna quite literally does not belong in Hyrule, nor do the Twili. The thought is a heartbreaking one; to say that, biologically, you are the other. That you will never have a place here because you are built differently.

Along that same vein, though…

There… is room for monsters in Hyrule. For me to really bring this point home, I need to talk about the bulblins.

Now, bulblins are kind of your main goon in Twilight Princess. We have bokoblins and keese and deku babas, for sure, but bulblins are… different. From the moment we’re introduced to them, they are organized and coordinated. While bokoblins are shown as more “primitive” with their use of large clubs, bulblins have an array of weapons, from clubs with big old rocks attached to them, to riding on massive boars called bulbos to attack you whether on horseback or on the ground, to arrows that are dipped in oil and set ablaze. They literally set an oil trap for Wolf Link on the Bridge of Hylia and tried to burn him and Midna to death! Like… that’s so cool. Bulblins are so fucking cool, we never see monsters quite this intelligent ever again.

And I haven’t even brought up King Bulblin yet. Throughout the game, the leader of the bulblins is portrayed not as yet another monster to be eradicated, as we have with Zant and Ganondorf, but instead as a rival for Link. He jousts the boy twice on the Bridge of Eldin and the Bridge of Hylia, respectively; he battles Link just outside of the Arbiter’s Grounds with a giant axe, just after Link cleared out an entire camp of bulblins.

Is there something worth noting about the player aka Link killing all these monsters if they’re intelligent and sapient like people? Well, wouldn’t you kill a band of human thieves in Skyrim if they slighted you? Kidnapped your friends and family? Slaughtered your livestock and hung their horns over their giant gate as a personal taunt?

It is only after besting King Bulblin for the final time, in Hyrule Castle’s courtyard, that the leader finally concedes defeat, proclaiming, “I only follow the strongest!” He recognizes Link as an equal, and he agrees to back off. In the end credits, King Bulblin and his guys are riding around on their big old bulbos, no longer terrorizing innocent people.

Now, we could argue all day about whether they’re only allowed in Hyrule because Link one-upped them and these guys now consider themselves subservient to him. Regardless, the end credits show that even Bulblins belong in Hyrule. They, too, have a place here.

And if we go by Zelda’s final plea to Midna, so do the Twili.

“Shadow and light are two sides of the same coin… One cannot exist without the other. I know now why the goddesses left the Mirror of Twilight in this world. They left it because it was their design that we should meet. Yes… That is what I believe.”

But the thing is, Midna already made up her mind. She made up her mind a long time ago.

But that’s not good enough for you. Is it?

“… Midna's reactions over the course of the story deserve far more attention than simply taking what she says at face value.” (10/21/2024)

And as a fun little bonus round, I need to just say little things concerning your argument of Hyrule’s “slow apocalypse.” In your essay, you refer to Hyrule’s “eroding ruins and decaying ghost towns,” such as the Hidden Village, or Snowpeak Ruins, or the random little stone area just outside of Castle Town that houses a Sky Puzzle, as environmental suggestions of Hyrule’s gradual downfall. But to insinuate that the erasure of the Gerudo or the slaughtering of Ganondorf are primary symptoms of this decline would be disingenuous.

“Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf and the Gerudo, Hyrule is now in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its borders.” (A Legend of Regret…, p.52)

“The people of Hyrule are entering the twilight of their civilization under the rule of an ineffectual leader that has not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity… The potential for energetic dynamism represented by Ganondorf has been violently denied in favor of cultural and ideological purity…” (A Legend of Regret…, p.56)

Cultural exchange is actively happening in Hyrule during the game. The only place you can argue is truly “culturally pure” is Hyrule Castle Town itself, with people from all reaches of Hyrule integrating themselves into this “pure” culture one way or another. Everywhere else, however?

Renado, the leader of Kakariko Village, is outright stated to be proficient in treating both Gorons and Zora. Gorons are not only allowed to sell their hot spring water to residents in Castle Town, but are actually permitted to enter Hyrule Castle itself to sell their wares. Or, at least they were before the Twilight Invasion began. Malo’s business practices more than likely reflect Sera’s, given his upbringing in Ordon, and he then brings that frugal model into Castle Town, where the people rejoice.

credit to @roaxes on tumblr

Gorons taught Mayor Bo how to sumo, and in turn, Bo teaches Link. Even the yeti, Yeto, teaches Link how to snowboard to get to Snowpeak Ruins! You can then race him and his wife afterwards! The passing down of culture is at play in real time in this game!

I’d hardly say that Hyrule is in a state of decline. If anything, given such innovations as high-quality pictographs in places like Hena’s Fishing Hole, fully electric lighting in Castle Town’s Malo Mart, and advanced weaponry like Auru’s bazooka—as well as Hyrule’s apparent religious enlightenment, given that this is the most secular that we have ever seen the country—I’d argue that Twilight Princess’s Hyrule is actually on the cusp of an industrial revolution.

But those are just my own thoughts.

Also, ruins and ghost towns exist all over the real world. Roanoke Island, Nara Dreamland, Imber… There are countless examples. Sometimes a disaster befalls a town, and it’s easier to relocate than to start over where you were. Sometimes you can’t maintain a house and it gets abandoned. Sometimes an area is reclaimed by the government or the military. Sometimes a town dies out because its lifeblood runs dry, forcing residents to relocate elsewhere. Given the massive disparity between the rich and the poor in this game, this feels the more likely scenario.

Does that mean the real world is on the decline, too? I suppose that depends on who you ask.

And finally, as you’ve stated before, Link is what the game and the player dictate he be. You’ve tried stating in your essay that “if the gameplay demand that Link must defeat enemies in order to advance,” or that he “ransack ancient temples to progress,” then he is a killer and a “marauder.” (A Legend of Regret…, p. 54) However, that is to ignore the story once again.

The only temples Link arguably “ransacks” are the Arbiter’s Grounds, and the Temple of Time. Link is given permission to enter the Forest Temple, the Goron Mines, Lakebed Temple, Snowpeak Ruins, and the Twilight Realm. Link was even, debatably, given permission to uncover everything in the Temple of Time, as the ancient sages had instructed him to go there. The Arbiter’s Grounds is the dodgiest one to discuss, because nobody should be there. It’s a necessary evil, but to accuse Link of further desecrating a place Hyrule and Zant have already stained would be a hard pill to swallow.

And then we have the big one: The killing of Ganondorf.

Why was Link so cruel? Why wasn’t there a way to stop Ganondorf peacefully? Why couldn’t Link and Zelda just talk to Ganondorf, after he “[refrained] from taking control of the kingdom through conquest and murder, even though doing so would have been well within his abilities[?]” (03/27/2020)

I think we’re ignoring the fact that Ganondorf acted through Zant and killed countless Twili to achieve his goals. We see soldiers in Hyrule Castle, but how many more were there before the Twilight Invasion began? How many people died in Kakariko Village? What would have become of Ordon Village, or their children, had Link not awoken as the chosen hero? What would have become of the Twilight Realm, had Ganondorf not been content with only Hyrule?

If one man believes himself a god, and he is threatening the lives and wellbeing of not one realm, but two, then what choice does a boy chosen by the gods, by royals, by the people, have? Is it truly so monstrous? Do the ends justify the means? Is it cruelty? Salvation?

I don’t know. And neither do they.

Now, why did I bother writing this whole thing? What was the point?

Quite simply, since your first publication iterating these thoughts was back in 2017, and your most recent post in 2024 proclaims that Link is a murderer, it means that your interpretation of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess is one that you’ve held for at least seven years, if not even longer. There’s nothing wrong with interpretation. The problem, however, is that you portray your take as “the correct one,” or the “big brained, deep one,” given how the thoughts you bring up in this first essay have been repeated by you again and again, whether it be the aforementioned “Link killing Ganondorf was an act of cruelty,” or “Why did Midna really shatter the Mirror of Twilight?”

And… The game already answered those questions. The game has already refuted your claims. You’ve just been ignoring it, and you’ve been encouraging everyone else to do the same.

And I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to start a conversation about it.

TLDR: Uhhhhh please don't misconstrue what was in the game in order to make your argument because that's Not Cool, and I invite everyone to please play or watch a playthrough of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess in order to form your own educated opinion!

Basically ummmm please reread the book before writing your book report.

And here are all my referenced sources so nobody thinks I'm pulling this out of my ass:

A Legend of Regret: Fallen Kingdoms and Postcolonial Ghosts in Twilight Princess

Tumblr Post Dated 03/27/2020

Tumblr Post Dated 10/20/2024

Tumblr Post Dated 10/21/2024

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

[t3a-tan]

Silent But Friendly

A what-if story about what would happen if Oliver met borrower James wayyyy before they actually did

---

They are in silence; though not the uncomfortable stuffy kind, rather a very peaceful quietness that surrounded the dinner table. His uncle worked late most weekends, and so that left Oliver and his aunt to eat alone on that Saturday afternoon.

It was macaroni and cheese tonight— one of Oliver's favourites. He even helped in the kitchen to chop the tomatoes and grate the cheese; aunt Charlie was 7 months pregnant after all and he wanted to do his best to help out.

As he finished his portion he placed his knife and fork together on the table before making eye contact with his aunt. She was eating slowly, mostly picking at the food. Her appetite seemed all over the place during the pregnancy; sometimes Oliver saw her eating lots of snacks, and other times he saw her throwing up from the tiniest bite.

He could see in her face that she was full, though she looked determined to finish the remaining bites. Catching his eye contact, she looked up and smiled tiredly. It was a warm and kind smile; like drinking a hot chocolate in front of the fireplace in the winter. Oliver soaked in that warmth whenever it was available, and right now was no different.

“Thanks for your help in the kitchen, love. It tastes brilliant.” She praised, before sighing as she finally set her fork down. She offered a sheepish grin in his direction. “I don't think I can fit any more... D’ja think you could go put the plates in the kitchen, poppet?”

A simple task really. Oliver didn't mind doing any of his chores or extra for his aunt and uncle— not after they had taken him in and been so kind to him. And sure, he missed his parents sometimes, but it felt much more gratifying to complete a task and receive praise rather than constantly fearing punishment as he had before.

Even if he looked at his mum wrong…he could just remember the look on her eyes. It was cold and distant; like being stranded out in a snowstorm, alone and lost. Resentful.

No…he much preferred living with his aunt and uncle, no matter how many times he woke up clutching his pillow and missing the way things used to be.

Oliver nodded silently, standing up and moving all the cutlery onto her plate before stacking her plate onto his own and lifting them both. He brought them closer to his centre so they'd be easier to carry and began walking towards the kitchen only to pause as his aunt spoke up again.

“Oh— and love? Just while you're up, d’ja think you could grab me a drink of water too?”

He turned back towards her, scanning her expression for a moment and seeing that once again there was nothing but geniality in her gaze. He offered a small smile in return and nodded again. She beamed, leaning on her hand as she looked up at him.

“You are a little sweetheart, you know that?” She praised once more. Oliver averted his eyes, though internally he was very pleased by the praise. He once again only nodded in return before entering the kitchen to go put the plates by the sink.

Next, he grabbed a glass from out of the cabinet and opened the tap, first testing it with his finger to make sure it was cold before holding the glass underneath. Once it was sufficiently full he turned the tap off and returned to the table, setting the glass down in front of his aunt.

She watched him enter with a fond gaze.

“Thanks, love.”

Picking up the glass she raised it to her lips and took a few sips before coughing. Oliver's expression turned to one of worry, his lips mouthing the question he wanted to ask although no sound came out. His hands moved too, signing alongside him.

‘Are you okay?’

She saw the gesture and waved a hand dismissively, nodding a few times, though she looked a bit pale still.

“I'm fine… I'm just gonna head to the bathroom, you stay down here, okay?” She stood up slowly, and Oliver could tell just by the slight winced in her expression that she was having a bout of nausea. He shuffled closer to help her up but she gently waved off his help.

“I'm okay, I promise. Why don't you get your comfies on and I'll come in to you later to read the next chapter of Magic Tree House, hm?”

Although more hesitantly than before, Oliver nodded slowly and watched as his aunt walked up the stairs. Once she had disappeared from view he glanced back towards the kitchen.

I don't think she'll be well enough to wash up… I can do it. I'll just leave things to dry since I can't reach the cupboards.

With that thought in mind he re-entered the kitchen and approached the sink, putting some dish liquid in the washing up bowl and starting to fill it up with warm water only to jolt when a sound caught his attention.

It was faint, he hardly heard it thanks to the sound of water on water, but he still heard it. A cry. Oliver turned the tap back off, glancing around and listening for it again.

Nothing.

As he looked around for any sign of what could have made the noise— or god knows it would bother him for the entire evening— he then noticed that the cylindrical tub of oats that sat beside the other cereal was…open. The lid wasn't off all the way, laying balanced and slightly ajar.

Oliver watched it silently for a few moments, wondering how exactly it had ended up that way. He had used the oats last when he ate porridge earlier in the week, so he knew that he had closed it once he was done using it. He even remembered looking at it this morning and never noticed anything off about the lid.

Unable to come up with a plausible theory, he sought to find answers as he approached the countertop the tub of oats was on, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Is it…a mouse..? Unafraid and full of curiosity his hands gripped the base of the tub and he tilted it towards himself to peer in through the opening, the lid clattering onto the counter as he did so. He expected just…oats. Maybe a mouse or a rat.

What he didn't expect was a pair of brown eyes staring up at him through a mop of messy long black hair. There, sprawled out and covered in oat dust, was a tiny boy.

Oliver stared silently— even if he wanted to speak he was at a loss for words, simply gazing down at the boy through his glasses, his mind blanching. He tilted the tub down more just so he could get a better look, listening to the little yelp that escaped the boy as more oats rolled over him.

The walls are much too high…he must have fallen in. He could be hurt.

With that in mind, Oliver smiled reassuringly, holding one of his hands out placatingly as a gesture of goodwill before using that same hand to reach into the tub, his vision now obscured as he blindly grabbed around for the tiny boy. He had held mice before— he imagined it was the same.

His fingers closed around a squirming form and he couldn't help but wince as they did— it was a weird feeling, to hold something so small that was undoubtedly alive. Once he was sure he was holding the boy securely he lifted his hand out of the tub and let it sit upright again as he brought the squirming rescuee to his eye level.

He realised that he had carried some oats with him and saw that the raven haired boy was still struggling away, kicking and fighting and losing energy by the second. Oliver noticed that one of his legs wasn't kicking very well, but it wasn't bleeding. He opened his mouth to ask, only for the words to catch in his throat again.

He knew he could speak, but he didn't like it. Whenever he did speak it was forced and he hated the way his voice made his head and ears feel. His aunt and uncle had promised him that he didn't need to force himself to speak and were teaching him British Sign Language…but he highly doubted this random boy knew it.

None of the kids at school did. None of the teachers. They all got frustrated with him and now Oliver made sure to keep to himself, as much as he wanted to raise his hand more.

Oliver lowered his hand slightly, offering another reassuring smile that was half a grimace at the same time. He waved slowly with his free hand, trying to get the boy to stop panicking so he could attempt communication.

As his other hand raised he caught how the tiny boy's gaze immediately focused on it, going stiff and staring up at him like he was a monster. Oliver didn't let that phase him; so long as he was able to communicate his intentions, he was sure they would calm down.

He kept a gentle smile on his face, moving slowly once he noticed how easily startled they were by his movements. He mouthed his question alongside his gestures, pointing at their leg and then tilting his head as he mouthed ‘is your leg hurt'?

They continued to stare owlishly up at him, trembling. Oliver's smile faltered slightly, concern in his eyes as he repeated the movements and mouthed his question again more emphatically.

“W-why aren't you talking..?”

The tiny boy's voice definitely held fear, but it was also slightly accusatory. Oliver was used to that second part— where people thought he was weird or creepy for not speaking. He was so used to it by now that it wasn't really upsetting, though it was hard to explain without words.

Oliver shrugged and mouthed ‘I don't like talking’. The boy squinted up at him, seemingly trying to figure out what he was trying to communicate.

“You…don't like talking? O-okay…” Oliver was surprised they didn't laugh or call him weird or just ignore him as many others did. That made him smile again as he repeated his previous gestures, still trying to ask about their leg.

“O-oh…my leg..? It's fine..! So…so you can just put me down and I'll go home, yeah?” Oliver heard the hint of uncertainty in their voice and he couldn't help but frown at the thought that they didn't think he would do that in the first place. He quickly realised that his frown could be taken the wrong way though and opted for a more neutral expression.

He lowered his hand again, this time so that it was flat against the counter, nodding his head in one direction as if he was shooing the boy off of his hand with his head alone. ‘Go on. I won't keep you’. He offered another smile for good measure.

The boy didn't move for a few moments, looking around at his fingers warily as if they would snap closed on him like a bear trap. Oliver simply held still, patiently waiting, despite his many questions.

Slowly they began to scoot towards the edge of his palm, and Oliver tried his best not to react to the ticklish sensation. He watched as they fully climbed off his hand and stood up before meeting his gaze again with trepidation.

“You…you're actually letting me go..?”

Oliver nodded, smiling again as he slowly moved his hand away and turned it back over so the palm was facing downwards. He placed his free hand over his heart to indicate sincerity.

They seemed to hesitate still, but took a cautious step back. As they put weight onto one of their ankles though they let out a hiss of pain, losing their balance as they suddenly pulled their weight off of that leg. Instinctively, Oliver's hand reached towards them, cupping as he caught them, looking down at them with concern.

‘You are hurt…’ He mouthed, although it was unreadable due to the way he was practically mumbling. Regardless, the boy wasn't looking at his mouth, instead they had wide eyes and were swivelling their head around to focus on Oliver's hand. He frowned worriedly, not wanting to scare them more than they clearly already were, but also not wanting to ignore someone who was injured.

He raised his other hand from the counter again and held out his palm, splaying his fingers out in a placating gesture and biting his lip when the boy flinched away from his hand’s shadow. He repeated the gesture again, trying to show that he meant no harm. All the while, his left hand remained cupped behind them, although it wasn't caging them in.

It took about five or six times of Oliver calmly repeating the same motion for the boy to calm down and notice that his fingers weren't closing in, and his right hand wasn't moving any closer. They looked up at Oliver, looking so small and vulnerable from this vantage point… I just want to help.

‘Your leg…’ He slowly pointed to the tiny leg again, then pointed towards himself, his hand instinctively flattening to sign help, only to remember his leading hand was currently cupped behind the boy. He rested his hand on the counter again instead.

‘I can help you.’ He mouthed. When the boy didn't seem to read his lips, Oliver simply repeated the most important word. ‘Help. I can help.’

There was a hint of understanding in the boy's gaze, but he was still clearly very frightened. Oliver tried to imagine seeing the world from his perspective, but it was hard to imagine…regardless, he thought he would be more curious when coming face to face with a giant unless he had reason to believe they meant him harm.

His green gaze danced around the counter in search of something else he could offer as a sign of good will. His gaze landed on the macaroni and cheese his aunt had left— and although it wasn't super hot anymore he could warm it up. Most of it was untouched after all, and he found the boy in the oats, so he was probably looking for food or something similar.

‘Wait.’ He held his hand out again, slowly moving his hand from behind the boy so that he was no longer supporting his weight. He then picked up his aunt's plate and walked to the microwave, covering it with a lid and putting it in for thirty seconds. He watched the timer go down, intending to stop it just before it would start beeping.

At one second he opened it, turning off the timer and pulling out the plate before carrying it back over to where he had left the boy. He was pleasantly surprised to see that they were still there, watching him with wariness…but also a hint of curiosity as Oliver set the plate down nearby.

Sliding it in the boy's direction he smiled, gesturing towards the plate.

“For…for me?” They asked, shocked by the offering of food. Oliver nodded. He watched as they limped closer to the plate and very nearly toppled over whilst climbing onto it. They crawled closer then sniffed at the food, before finally taking a piece of the warm macaroni into their hands.

Oliver winced at the mess but made no moves to stop the tiny boy, simply leaning on his hand as he watched the display.

They ate ravenously, making it clear how hungry they were as they only paused to announce how good it tasted; expressing shock over the fact that the food was warm. Eventually the boy grew full and he looked up at Oliver again, cheese covering his hands and face. Oliver couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle, hushed and soft but no less amused.

The boy frowned up at him, little eyebrows contorted in frustration.

“H-hey! Nothing funny to see here..!” He protested. Oliver covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the laughter, cutting it off with a small cough as he was worried he might actually upset the tiny boy. That would be bad…he was trying to help him after all.

They continued to stare up at him, looking him up and down with a scrutinising chocolate brown gaze, seemingly debating something internally. Oliver was silent as usual, removing his hand that was covering his mouth and making his expression neutral again— though he couldn't hide the curious spark in his eyes.

“My name is James…” The boy murmured, but Oliver heard it.

He perked up, his hands already moving to spell his own name, mouthing ‘Oliver’ alongside it. His aunt and uncle just used the sign of an acorn as a nickname for him, but he didn't really introduce himself like that.

“Oliver…yeah I know.” James responded as if it was obvious, but Oliver tilted his head questioningly nonetheless.

‘You did?’

James hadn't read his lips but seemed to understand that he had let something slip he shouldn't have as he began to backtrack immediately, fear visible in his expression.

“I-I mean…it's not— I-I'm sorry…” He was back to trembling, shoulders hunched and posture stiff. Oliver's expression saddened and he leaned down slightly so he was more at eye level, offering a small reassuring smile and shaking his head lightly, hands gesturing alongside his lips moving.

‘It’s okay. It's okay. I'm not angry.’ He shook his head again to emphasise that fact. ‘You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'll ask something else… like…’ He thought for a few moments before levelling with James again. ‘How old are you?’

There were a few beats of silence as the tiny boy continued to stay silent, but Oliver remained patient. Eventually he spoke up, albeit shakily.

“I-I'm um…I'm thirteen.” He answered, averting eye contact every now and then. Oliver knew that he was prone to staring or giving way too much eye contact so he looked away again for a moment, only looking back when he responded back.

‘I’m ten.’ He held up his hands, palms facing himself and fingers close together with his thumbs sticking out, before turning them around and splaying his fingers out. People usually understood the second gesture much more when Oliver tried to sign numbers.

“Ten?” The tiny boy clarified, and he nodded in turn. That seemed to make James perk up a bit himself, as if age was a matter of pride. “So…I-I'm older than you? You're just…so big. It’s weird…”

It's weird. Not I'm weird.

Oliver smiled.

‘I am big.’ He agreed, his hands continuing to sign as much as he knew his constant hand movements probably only confused James. Wanting to focus on more important matters again, Oliver pointed towards his leg. ‘Can I help fix your leg? It's hurt.’

“Oh, right… u-um… nothing is broken, I think I just landed weird. The pain is starting to go away a bit… But I can't stay out here— my dad’ll kill me if he catches me talking to you..!” He exclaimed, glancing around as if his dad might pop up from anywhere. Oliver couldn't help but glance around too, worry etching across his features.

‘Your dad would really do that? Is he mean to you?’ He signed quickly, his mind instantly flashing back to the many threats he had heard when he was younger from his own parents. Mostly his mother, but his father never stopped her.

James didn't seem able to read his lips that time thanks to how sporadic it was, but he could tell that Oliver was worried.

“N-not actually! I just…I'm exaggerating. He.. he will be worried about me, is all. He and my mum…” He corrected, confusion in his gaze as he looked up at him. Oliver let out a small sigh of relief and relaxed, calming down little by little.

An exaggeration. Right.

He nodded to show he understood, although he couldn't help the jittery feelings that remained buzzing under the surface, his hands withdrawing closer to his chest as he looked down at the tiny boy. ‘Okay… Do you want to clean yourself before you go, then?’

He reached over the counter and picked up a napkin before offering it forwards for James to use. The boy's face lit up in realisation and he glanced down at his cheese covered hands sheepishly before nodding and reaching out to take a corner.

“Thanks…” He spoke out as he wiped off his hands. He let go of the napkin and gave Oliver a confused look when he didn't withdraw. Letting out an amused exhale from his nose Oliver pointed at James then gestured to his face.

‘Your face is messy too.’

The boy's face went red with embarrassment and he took a clean part of the napkin to wipe the cheese from his face too. Once finished he let go again and held out his hands as if to say ta da, then shakily pushed himself to a stand.

At first it seemed like he might fall again, and Oliver's fingers twitched in anticipation…but it seemed the boy had been telling the truth that the injury was nothing serious and the pain was fading, as he was able to put more weight on it than before. Satisfied, he put the napkin in the bin before looking down at James again.

‘It was nice to meet you, James.’ He smiled, waving down at them. He waved back up at him, climbing off of the plate and walking backwards towards the…wall..? Oliver watched with confusion and interest, then awe as the tiny boy opened a hidden doorway into the wall. His eyes sparkled with wonder, although he only watched.

“I-it was nice to meet you too, surprisingly. Thanks again for not um..for not killing me.” The secret door then closed and left Oliver alone in the kitchen once more. He tilted his head, brows furrowing.

What an odd thing to say… Oh well. I hope his parents don't get angry at him because of me.

With that in mind, he stood up straight again and turned the tap back on to resume his washing up, playing the interaction in his head over and over again.

I hope we can be friends.

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆ Who Is This Diva✦

｡⁠☆Content: Izuku Midoriya BF headcanons

｡⁠☆Cw: a few uses of she/her, one singular pregnancy mention, no use of y/n, light cursing

✦ Always writing in that damn notebook, there is nothing you can say or do that won't end up there

✦ If you're creeped out by it, he will commit what you said to memory and write it down later

✦ The best gift giver. He notices everything about you. From your face to your body to your brain. All of his gifts are thoughtful

✦ Didn't know how to do his own hair until Mina showed him, however if you know how to do it he'll play dumb

"My hair... ? Y-Yeah, Mina normally helps me with it, b-but I seen you take care of your own so... Do you mind helping me instead ? Not that Mina isn't great, b-but she isn't you... Sorry, is that a weird thing to say ?"

✦ Sometimes YOU are the third wheel when Katsuki's around. Good luck with that.

✦ Nervous forever. Constantly apologizing. Trips over everything when you're around. His face is always bright red. Nervous talker for sure. Heaven forbid you compliment him, he might pass out on the spot

✦ He stays on Uraraka's phone. He needs advice before he does anything, especially if you're a girl. He used to take advice from Kaminari, and then he learned his lesson (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

"I-It's not sexist to assume she likes flowers just cause she's a girl right ?.... What ?! Of course I know that not all girls like flowers !! .... N-No way I can't just ask her. What if she thinks I'm weird" (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

✦ Doodles you everywhere. Aizawa is fed up with the scribbled pictures of you in all the corners of his homework. He's debating whether or not he should take point off his papers just to get him to stop. Mic and All Might think it's cute

✦ All this to say he is the sweetest ever. He makes sure to know every single thing about you, it borders on obsession. He follows you around like a lost puppy. His receiving love language is physical touch/quality time, and his giving love language is gift giving and acts of service

✦ Izuku is selfless to a fault, but when it comes to you he can't help but be selfish. No matter how much he gives to you, he feels justified because your love, affection, time, and attention, is the ultimate prize.

☆ PROHERO ☆

✦ Interviewers are tired of hearing about you. Any questions lead right back to what you're doing, something you've said, what you think, what you look like. It doesn't matter as long as it's about you

✦ Puts your needs first which can be really nice, but definitely neglects himself in the process. Like this man has chronic pain in his hands, but will stay up until ungodly hours giving himself carpal tunnel making something that you didn't even ask for just bc he knew you'd like it

✦ If you're not a prohero (hell, even if you are), Izuku is overprotective. His worst fear is you being taken from him in any sense of the word. Losing you isn't something he would ever get over

✦ Rarely ever yells, but when he does he sounds just like Katsuki. It's annoying how much like Katsuki he sounds. Otherwise though, he prefers to concede to whatever you want, the only time serious arguments occur is if it's about something like your safety

"Shouto, I'm gonna throw myself off a cliff... No she's not hurt she's perfectly fine don't even joke about that !!! .... The problem ? Shou she's so mad at me.... Don't look at me like that, I'm serious !"

✦ A sass monster. Rarely ever to your face, most of the time it's just a mutter under his breath that you barely catch but you just know he said something smart.

✦ If your first language isn't Japanese then trust and believe he's learning whatever your native tongue is. He has the cutest accent too. If he's feeling bold he'll use your lessons as an excuse to flirt with you, and after that there's a high chance you won't get anything done

✦ NOT a morning person. Clings to you and the bed like his life depends on it. Moaning and groaning in your ears about how mean you are to him, how could you make him get up for early morning patrol ? Death for 10 thousand years have been cursed upon him.

"Hmm ? I don' care 'bour the alarm. Turn it off... Where you goin' ? Noooo don' go shh i's okay, mhmm it snoozes itself. Jus' lay back down, yeah 'xactly baby.... Hmm ? Late ? Patrol ? OHMYGOD PATROL !!"

✦ Pet name extraordinaire. It takes a while until he finds his favorite, so he spends his time cycling through all types of sweet names. Anything from baby to darling to pookiebear to beautiful. He probably doesn't stray too far into weird names, but he dips his toes in if it feels right.

✦ Won't admit it, but he loves it when you flaunt him to your friends. Makes him feel like a big strong man, especially when you feel up his arms. His face flushes bright red and he tries to wave it off but he stutters so much that his sentence is barely distinguishable, but of course that only makes you want to do it more

✦ When you get married it's honestly been inevitable, especially if you met while in highschool. If it was only up to Izuku you would've been married within the month, but lucky for you he has self restraint. If you both want kids they truly won't be far behind marriage, and if you thought he was obsessive before just imagine if you get pregnant.

First post,, how exciting !! Not sure if I'm sticking with this format, but I think I like it. My blog is almost completely set up and I have a few reblogs so... My askbox is open if you so please (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Who f/w black Izuku like I do ?? 🗣️🗣️

｡⁠☆Requests open

[bestangelofall]

I think both possibilities are interesting regarding what you can do with his character in this AU. World building wise, I love the lack of Daemon for resurrected people, because it leads into the idea of there being a price for the resurrection, and the possible stigma that people who came back to life would face.

Applying this to Jason specifically, would he be seen as less than by Bruce? As soulless? Would a Daemonless Jason be a reason to justify all the victim blaming, to justify all the other things Bruce does after Jason's resurrection? For example, the ending of UtH, or Gotham War, could be put as not being "that bad" because in Bruce's eyes Jason wouldn't be a complete person, and a part of him is forever lost.

I love that idea, but, as per HDM lore, to lose the connection with the Daemon is to lose the soul (at least in the case of the children which were cut), so I prefer the idea that the Daemon also comes back after resurrection. Maybe "come back" isn't even the right word, because when Lyra went to the Land of the Dead in The Amber Spyglass, Pantalaimon was left behind. Of course, Jason stayed dead for months, so maybe in this AU the daemon actually died.

I haven't read The Secret Commonwealth, but I do know that it addresses the aftermath of Lyra and Pan's separation, and that is that things between them aren't the same anymore, and they never will be. Of course, in Lyra's case, she willingly left Pan behind, which would be very different from Jason being murdered, but dying would still be a sudden and violent change, so I think that the same irreversibility would be reasonable here.

If Jason's death was wrong to be corrected (by Superboy Prime), it would make sense that his Daemon would be left behind while Jason went to the Land of the Dead.

Here we can have the option of continued separation after Jason crawls out of his grave, and that it contributes to his catatonic state, and maybe the Lazarus Pit has a role in helping with that (maybe it "reconnects" the bond, but not even the Pit can heal it totally, and there will always be a scar 🤔). I'm not so sure on this part, but it's an idea...

Anyway, Jason and his Daemon start early on not really feeling that separation as much as one would initially assume. They are both very motivated by the same goals, they both love Bruce very much but need to see proof of reciprocation, and most importantly, they both understand that what happened wasn't their fault.

However, as the time passes, and as other people treat Jason the way they do (and now I lean more into Rebirth Sad Jason) that disconnect that results from the separation during his death starts to show. The Daemon stands her ground, being the part of Jason that remains sure that they were good, that they didn't deserve what happened, and that it wasn't their fault - they were tricked by Sheila (and her Daemon) and still tried their best to save them.

Jason, however, after having been told time and again by Bruce & others that he screwed up, started to believe that, because if it was his/their fault, then all he needs to do is to be better, it's not something out of his control. It hurts less. And because of this subject, the discord between him and his Daemon is born and intensifies, and things get ugly. Rebirth Jason has the self-esteem of a wet paper bag, and fights with his Daemon constantly because she wants to impose boundaries to others, while he sees her as an obstacle for reconciliation with Bruce/Dick/maybe Babs/Alfred (btw, his Daemon fucking hates Alfred).

We see in HDM Mrs. Coulter acting on her self-hatred in the form of Daemon abuse which constitutes self-harm. I think Jason would do that too :/

I probably could talk more about this, but this is already a wall of text.

So like in a Daemon au do you think Jason's Daemon would be resurrected with him or do you think you can tell if someone has been resurrected by their lack of Daemon

[rhiannonsknife]

you said rhiannon and safe word in the same blurb and now i'm having some thoughts...

i'm thinking about a really intense scene, maybe you being tied up in her basement and her fucking you - whether it be with her strap, her fingers, her tongue, or her knife, she's bringing you to another orgasm (you've lost count of how many she's given you)

now, she's content to wring as much pleasure as she can out of you, but it's getting to be too much. the pleasure has turned into pain and you don't think you can take it anymore. so, you utter your safe word, a hushed sob beneath your breath

red.

she's immediately stopping any and all stimulation, backing away to give you some space. i feel like if it's at the beginning of your relationship, she'd lowkey panic, freezing up and apologizing over and over again. you assure her that it's ok and that she didn't do anything wrong. she's immediately rushing to untie your bonds (if she can't do it fast enough/her hands are shaking too much, she cuts them off with her knife)

the whole night is spent by her side while she continuously makes sure you're ok. she draws you a bath, she brings you a fresh pair of clothes/pjs, and she's constantly checking in to make sure you're ok. she just cares so much about you and she wants nothing more than for you to be ok 💔💔💔

-🪐

100% yess!! she just wants you to be okay :(( god i love rhiannon so much guys cannot!!!

— warnings: established relationships. fem!reader. implied knife play. nsfw content. mdni. use of safe word. after care.

so. as we’ve established: rhiannon loves to know that you trust her as much and that you let her explore these rather ‘extreme’ things with you.

obviously, with handing over power like this comes a certain responsibility. rhiannon lowkey gets so happy and excited (and not even in a sexual way) to have somebody there who loves and appreciates her so much that they’re willing to share the experience with her!!

before you get started, she talks about every possible thing that could happen; discusses safe words and boundaries, things you definitely want to incorporate, dealbreakers, and stuff that you’re not sure about/want to experiment with. obviously, even with all of that settled, there are times when it just becomes too much to handle. pushing you to your limits is the point, after all, and rhiannon appreciates it even more that you’re comfortable and willing enough to stop whatever you’re doing and don’t try to push yourself for her sake.

that doesn’t mean she’s not in full panic mode the first time you use your safe word.

she’s been keeping you tied up for what must’ve been hours, at this rate. she’s started out by rubbing her knife against your clit until you’d been pushed over the edge -embarrassingly fast and from nothing but the firm pressure of the handle. ever since you’ve lost count of how many orgasms rhiannon has given you. she has put her mouth on you, has finger fucked you (-stuffing your cunt full. “so you’re ready to take my cock” she’d claimed, pumping three fingers into you at a brutal pace), and has then gotten the strap out for good measure.

that’s how she’s been fucking you ever since. right now, your wrists are tied together and she’s got you bent over, ass up and face down as she slams into you from behind. under different conditions, you would wonder how she does it, how she keeps up the relentless motion of her hips, snapping forward time and time again. but right now, your brain is foggy with the haze of your previous orgasms and the sting of overstimulation.

something seems off today, though. usually, there’d be pleasure in the pain that comes from being pushed this way. there’d be a thrill in knowing you’re giving all control to rhiannon. there’d be at least one more orgasm in you. it had been pleasurable, up until this point, after all.

under your breath, knowing you won’t be able to manage anything louder than this, you utter: “orange”, not willing to call it quit just yet. maybe, you think, you can take some more. you want to be good for her, you want to please her.

rhiannon slows her pace down. “are you okay?” she checks in as established. “do you need a break?”

“i don’t- fuck- i’m not sure-“ you stammer. god, rhiannon really has been fucking your brains out, hasn’t she?

her palm lands on your back, tracing the skin there soothingly. “take your time baby” she assures you. she’s so tender with you. in an instant, it pushes the first sob from your throat. her strap is still buried to the hilt, but now that you have the time to consider it, there’s no longer any pleasure in the way it feels. your body is too spent to accommodate the stretch.

“red” you cry out, unable to string any more words together.

rhiannon is backing off of you immediately, a quiet little gasp falling from her lips. you can’t see her yet, she’s still behind your back, but now you long to, desperately.

“i’m sorry” you hear her, sounding frantic. the sound of the harness dropping to the floor still rings in your ears by the time she walks around you. “i’m so sorry, here-“ rhiannon steps into view. she’s discarded the strap and a panic expression is written all over her features. she is in a rush to untie you, cursing quietly under her breath as she isn’t able to undo the knots fast enough for her own liking. in the end, though you’re only half aware of it, she cuts them with her knife carefully.

“is it okay if i touch you?” she asks softly, her hand lingering just above your shoulder, always knowing when to take and when to give, and not yet touching you.

you can only muster a soft nod, but rhiannon sees nonetheless and carefully maneuvers you so you’re no longer on the cold floor, but half draped over her lap. like this, she waits the time out that it takes for your breathing to calm until you’re coherent enough to verbalize your needs.

(she caresses your body all over, whispers sweet nothings against your temple, and plays with your hair.)

“can we go to the bedroom?” you suggest weakly. whilst you appreciate being cradled in her arms, it would obviously be better in the comfort of your bed. you don’t have to ask her twice: instantly, you’re picked up and carried all the way through the house until you’re both curled up under the covers together.

rhiannon is still excessively apologizing at this point and continues to ask if you’re okay: “is this comfortable for you?”, “do you need anything else?”, “god i’m so sorry, i should’ve known”, “can i get you something?”

even after you’re conscious enough to reassure her that you’re okay, that this could’ve happened before, and that the point is not that it was too much, but that she immediately stopped what she was doing to look after you, rhiannon still makes sure you’re the center of her attention for the rest of the evening. she gets you into your most comfortable pjs, takes a bath with you if you feel like it and lovingly scrubs your body clean.

if you don’t, she offers to order dinner for you, and the two of you end up having a movie night on the sofa, cuddling together with tink curled up beside you.

with you, she’s always nurturing like you’ve never seen before but especially after using the safe word, rhiannon wants nothing more than to make up and ensure that you’re okay <33

[eyebulb]

Kay, I'm not done w. The whole Stolas thing.. Cus talking to antis piss me off.

Do you not realize that Stolas and Blitz have very similar issues?? That just present itself in different ways (although not entirely)

Both of them have history w. Abuse. Verbal and physical. Blitz has abandonment issues, Stolas has been isolated his entire life. They're both afraid of loneliness and not being enough.

Now.. What about some of their bad habits, hmm? Things people looove to critique.

First up: delusion and deflection

Stolas lives in a fantasy world to escape life. He makes things up in his head and therefor ends up acting to a false reality. He's scared at looking too deeply into things that aren't that great so tries to play it off w. Changing the subject, fleeing, flirting etcetc.

Blitz doesn't live in a fantasy world.. But he's an expert at deflecting. Through humor, anger or just simply ignoring things he doesn't want to hear. Blitz is also afraid of looking too close, but this also include good things lest he fucks it up. This guy is more in the "expect the worst" kinda camp. Cus he does have a version of reality that isn't quite true too. Due to all of his self-hatred among other experiences.

Boundaries..what's that?

Lots of people like to criticise Stolas on this one. His delusion leads to him flirting aggressively and uncomfortably w. Blitz and not seeing when Blitz isn't into it. He also takes Octavia to a place she didn't wanna go despite her saying so, he also talks a little too freely to Blitz in front of her.. (demeaning speech is also included in his uncomfortable flirting)

Blitz.. Is notorious for boundary breaking. He stalks M&M constantly despite them telling him no repeatedly. He also stands in the way of Loona as a protective father which makes her lash out cus she's an adult. (totally get him but still crossing a boundary). He pry into their sex life and does a little bit of inappropriate touching on Moxxie (in a joking manner ofc.. I thought it was hilarious.. But still a boundary). He stalks his sister despite everyone telling him not to. He makes fun of and comes back to scream at a broken hearted Stolas who thought it was over and done after the full moon. (if you wanna try to keep the bird don't make fun of his feelings and break into his home my dude). Not to mention breaking and entering to steal a very valuable book in the first place.

They both have their own reasons for doing this but still.. They're both doing this.

Blames themselves.

Both Stolas and Blitz are very much in the "I'm a piece of shit" camp. As in.. They think very lowly of themselves.

Stolas sings about missing signals, not being enough, being a monster, doing the wrong thing, on several different occasions. He is anxious and insecure in social situations and he tries to hide when he doesn't feel welcome. He has stood up for himself twice but it's rare.

Blitz is self-hatred galore! Which makes him push people away before they can get too close to him lest they see the real him and oh how much worse it would hurt to be rejected then. He made one big mistake that everyone ended up blaming him for and he leans into the role of shitty as much as he can. So he acts out if threatened by treating people around him badly and hurting himself in the process.

They are both their own worst enemy.

Both have fear of loneliness.. However this is a little different.

Stolas has always been lonely... He holds hope of genuine connections and tries desperately to hold on if he finds someone. He is hopefull and falls hard but he doesn't want to force people to stay if they don't want to.

Blitz hasn't always been alone but has been lonely for a longass time. He fears being abandoned since he was pushed away as a child and lost everyone he cared about in one big accident. Blitz also craves genuine connection and hopes for it but is scared of it cus he's lost it before. He wants to get close but not too close.. Except he does want to be too close too. Actually he's quite clingy. But being clingy is scary sooo let's keep our distance.

They both are kinda clingy honestly. Both want to love and be loved. Both are family people. Both are desperate and keep making dumb choices because of it.

There are definitely things that are very different too. Which is a reason to why they don't understand each other yet. But they're starting to.

And I've probably missed things but these are a few similarities in the way they act that makes me wonder why they aren't judged equally..

[randomfoggytiger]

Though I'm forever drawn to the insane chemistry and comedic timing of Craig Ferguson and his first (and reoccurring) guest David Duchovny, there's something very magical about Craig taking shots at David's fashion and David then setting Craig up for a gag:

(Compilation of these two that I watch over and over like a movie found here.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[deoidesign]

.

[purpurussy]

I know this is 100% my personal problem and idk if anyone can relate but as an afab person with some weird gender shit going on I kinda hate it whenever dnp make jokes like "you know us we don't like pussy/tits" etc like 😭 I love that they have fully healed from the comphet "fyi I like vagina" era but I hate being made to feel like a Woman™ because of my anatomy if that makes sense. Like my brain interprets it as "we don't like those traits because they make you a woman and we're gay" idk it gives me like a weird wave of dysphoria every time they say it 😭😭 the first time I watched BIG I interpreted Dan's monologue about "I don't care what kind of anatomy you've got going on, I don't feel attracted to the signs on bathroom doors" as being like trans inclusive but I fear he's walked it back with these constant jokes dsdfghjkl and to be clear I'm not saying anyone is obligated to find me or my body type attractive like that's not what this is about. It's just the equation of genitals/anatomy with gender idk. And this is not even really something that's specific to dnp and I know there's a lot of discourse about genital preferences or whatever idk idk maybe I should've just sent this to phannieconfessions and allowed everyone to take it in the worst possible faith over there. I just need to get it off my chest

[demonbloodenthusiast]

91w deancas is so delusional cause they been making heart eyes at each other since day fucking one, calling the other sweatheart, thinking of kissing the other innocently just for the sake of the other being kissed, because they deserve that softness in the midst of all the chaos around them and the minute they actually get to it (motherfucking 200 pages in mind you) they try so hard to revert it back into something purely phisical with no emotions involved AND THEY KNOW THAT IT'S MORE BUT IF THEY BOTTLE IT UP AND IGNORE IT THEN ALL THE REVERENCE OF MOST OF THEIR LOOKS AND TOUCHES WILL JUST DISAPPEAR which is the epitome of the dilusional repressed gay way of doing anything

[bumblebeehug]

i'm literally never leaving 14 mentally. i'm exactly the same, only now i know how to cope in public

[running-in-the-dark]

.

[luvsavos]

random vent(?) in the tags, feel free to ignore i just have a lot of pent up emotions to get out today apparently

[byanyan]

It was too bad there weren't more books on humans in Sigma Rhada.

That was to expect from a species that wasn't native to Eros, but even so, the lack of information frustrated him. Ardaka knew he could ask the human he had in his life any question that came to mind… But the answer he would receive was always going to be limited. Very limited. Byan's recent antics had told the kariian there was some sort of significant human-related event happening, but he also didn't want to just ask them about it. Not only did it ruin any surprise, Byan was… Avoidant at the best of times. Sometimes a liar at his expense. They would deny it, but they were often flustered, too. He knew the sort of thing they'd find difficult to answer. Something sentimental, heartfelt — he knew Byan struggled with that, and for good reason. He'd indulge himself with a question later on, but for now…

The recent gift was something of a statement. Something had prompted it. While he wasn't sure of what it was, it didn't take Ardaka long to decide to begin putting together a gift for his human companion. It seemed like humans had too many holidays for him to truly keep track of anyway, but he understood the sentiment. Kariians did have similar gift-exchanging holidays, sparse as they were. Something related to things that were dear to you in your life. For the little human to express that sentiment to him meant something. It warranted a reciprocation, and gladly.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he was running out of excuses to give Byan things, flighty and perpetually-unsettled as they often were. There always needed to be a reason for it. Even if Ardaka didn't exactly have the context, this was still a good one.

The gift Byan had made was now a month ago. Maybe two. Aside from framing the portrait, Ardaka hadn't mentioned it. He, too, had taken time to compose what he'd wanted to give them now. The Hunter had needed time to think… But he also needed time to perfect it. Even with his cybernetic eyes having the ability to gauge exact distance, Ardaka had went through the effort of being exact. He didn't want to say 'Hey, stand still while I measure the radius of your skull,' so he opted to wait for Byan to be asleep to do it without the potential hassle of spoiling his intentions. Ardaka was neurotic and anxious to those who knew him well, but when he intended to hide something, there were few more adept than he was. Byan might've assumed the kariian had no plan at all before they came across their gift.

How did they find it? First one of their knives had gone missing. In its usual place, a note to lure Byan elsewhere in the base, titled Humor Me.

From their backpack pocket to one room then another. Notes and riddles but nothing concrete until they come to the main room. There upon the table, not the knife but instead a sleek pair of gloves. They held the visual of being fingerless on first glance, but there was thin and resilient wiring that extended down to the fingers, meant to wind around them like rings. The note here read simply, Byan, then You'll figure them out. Then, Turn this over after.

Each knuckle held a divot like something was meant to come out, and the technical nature and feel of them left an implication that there was more to be garnered here. When Byan would put them on, including the wiring as intended, there was a subtle but painless undercurrent of electricity within. Only when they snapped their fingers did the note's promise come to fruition. Thumb to little finger, the power in the gloves hummed stronger. The nearest metal — a conveniently placed piece of cutlery — magnetized quickly to their palm. Snapping the combination again made them disappear, or even combo with another of the glove's features. Thumb to ring finger, a quarter of hard-light blades shot out from the divots atop the knuckles, similar in visuals to Ardaka's pink hard-light prosthetic. Warm like a sun-heated window-pane and as sharp as any knife. Thumb to middle finger, the hard-light took on an appearance more like plasma, and spread over like liquid across Byan's hands, moulding over them and effectively cutting off any sensation of outside temperature; they could have soaked their hands in acid then and remained perfectly safe. Thumb to index finger, the hard-light blades of the ring-finger snap extended and whirled into a circular shape, creating a small — but effective — shield.

When the note was turned over, there was another single sentence. Now where would I put a sword?

The room next to the training gym, naturally. Where he kept every blade, practically all of them too heavy for Byan to ever be interested in borrowing. Byan finds their knife here — among other things. The dagger is embedded through the next note, and into the neck of the training dummy. In the chest of the dummy is another blade — much longer than a dagger… And atop its makeshift head is a helmet, much smaller than those the Hunter donned.

The note didn't start with Byan's name exactly.

The gloves, the helmet, and the sword is for you. I admit, this might just be a convoluted scheme to get you to wear a helmet or a mask… But I know you'll find use in the gloves and the sword. Destructive use, I'm sure, but use nonetheless. I trust you'll do more damage with these than you will with a switchblade. Try not to get carried away when you're in here with any property damage, though..

It was a proper sword under that note, its hilt made of dense metal, the heaviest piece of the weapon. Consequently, had Byan discovered each trick to the new pair of gloves, the magnetized pull of it was powerful enough to draw it right into their palm, where it fit easily, hilt-first. The weight was far easier to manage than the swords the kariian used despite its weight, its edge so light it almost seemed it was only fit to cut, to slash but not to cleave.

That was, until another of the glove's abilities was active. The harmless plasma-y liquid that coated over Byan's hand would extend up the sword, where it seemed to ignite like a lit match to a wick. It turned the edge of the blade white-hot with the barest hint of the same pink that shared the energy of these new tools. Hot and deadly enough to slice through metal like butter. It also brought attention to a script carved into the surface of that blade, that glowed a vibrant hue instead of white.

The helmet, on the other hand, was a sort of two-piece helmet. A front-facing protective mask that could seal to an additional attachment, making it take on a look more similar to that of Talon's motorcycle helmets. If it wasn't obvious that it was intended for Byan — the armor was, of course, pink. Bright, bright pink.

An additional two notes were attached. One another letter, and another attached with more care, on a material more resembling cardboard than paper in its thickness. It was a sketch of Byan. There was no color like the picture the teen had made the kariian, but each line was obviously etched by a claw dipped in ink, loose and minimalistic in comparison. While there seemed as few lines as needed to make the portrait, the human's dark eyes conveyed an intense, mischievous emotion.

Thank you for your gift to me. Accept mine to you as well. They may be a little over the top, but I think you deserve something worthy of being called a real set of gear. Not just a toothpick, but something even I would use.

The words on the sword say 'vaxa osti a todivarr mûrû'. It's a saying in my language that would translate roughly into 'the edge to depend upon'. This blade doesn't have a name, but all great ones do. I hope one day I'll learn what it is.

Sukehiir vur ruure a ohhta. Koz khukh kharvas xot zar mrrar sukeh zqrry.

re: byan inexplicably leaving ardaka a christmas gift with no context.

ㅤwaking up to a treasure hunt for their own knife was not how byan expected their day to start. and yet, here they were, barely awake and stumbling from room to room still clad in their pyjamas and intense bedhead, squinting at each note and trying to solve the clues without an ounce of caffeine in their system as of yet. part of them was tempted to step away for a moment to make some coffee before continuing to pursue the odd little search, but their curiosity to where this was going had them telling themself 'i'll do it after i find the next part' with each note they picked up, all the way to the base's main room.

stuffing the now-solved note into their pocket, byan approached the table with interest further piqued by the sight of more than just another note this time. it wasn't the knife that they were trying to track down, but they were some pretty cool looking gloves. a bit simple for their taste at first glance but, sliding the note closer and reading it over, there was an implication that they were more than they appeared. undeniably intrigued, the teen snatched one of the gloves off the table and lifted it toward their face, turning it over as they surveyed it more closely. there was something more here, upon closer inspection, even beyond the odd wiring which ran along the fingers, though they couldn't quite figure out what. knowing the sort of tech ardaka had and worked with, however, there was an excitement buzzing in the back of their head at the possibilities.

after a few further moments of study only to come up empty-handed, the only conclusive next step to figuring them out, as the note clearly intended for them to do before proceeding with the hunt, was to put them on. slipping their hands inside each of the gloves, impressed with how perfectly they fit, byan wasn't sure of what to expect, but the sudden sensation of an electrical undercurrent, painless as it was, earned a faint start regardless. ...okay, so there was definitely something more here.

it took a bit of playing around to figure things out. from simply touching the table and the note to closing their hands into fists and slipping them into their pockets to even just clapping their hands together, nothing seemed to cause anything interesting to happen. ...until they snapped their fingers absentmindedly while trying to think up some other way to get the things to activate, that was. the hard-light blades popped out first, earning yet another startled jump and a wide-eyed stare that melted into a thrilled excitement in a matter of seconds. oh, that was so much fucking cooler than they were prepared for. turning their hands to admire the warm pink blades, a wild grin took over byan's features as countless fun and kickass uses for such a thing began to flood their mind. experimentally, they snapped their fingers again, and the weapons disappeared just as suddenly as they'd appeared. god, it was so goddamn cool.

fully forgetting about the entire idea of making coffee, far more awake now than they had been in trying to follow all the previous notes, byan snapped their fingers a third time, this time catching their ring finger and their middle finger without really thinking about it. to their continued surprise, a second feature revealed itself, their hands now coated and seemingly protected by the same hard-light as before. while less exciting than the weapon function, there was no doubt that this would prove useful as well. more than that, though... there was no way these gloves had a different feature activated by each finger... right? obviously, it had to be tested, so they snapped their index finger next, revealing the gloves' shield capability — also not as cool as hard-light knuckle knives, but unquestionably handy considering how much more often they found themself being shot at these days. then, finally, they snapped their pinkie finger last and watched in utter bewilderment as a piece of cutlery they'd barely made note of across the table was sucked straight into the palm of their hand. —okay, so that was pretty neat. they definitely found the coolest part of the gloves first, but they couldn't say that had complaints about any of the features. all of them would absolutely be getting use in the future.

although tempted to keep playing with the gloves and all their capabilities, a glance at the note still laying on the table reminded them that they weren't done yet — their knife was still missing, after all. deactivating the gloves' functions with another snap of their fingers, byan dropped the fork back to the table, trading it for the note which they finally turned over. 'where would i put a sword,' huh? now that was an easy one.

ㅤshoving their way through the door to the room which sat next to the gym — the room they liked to think of as the 'sword shed' for all the weapons it housed — the teen flicked the light on and found they didn't have to search very far for their knife. they were, however, drawn to a pause by the sight: the knife pinning the next note to a training dummy's neck, a (very pink) helmet atop its head, and another weapon, one they hadn't seen before, embedded in its chest. this was... a lot more than just the gloves. overwhelming, in a way, as they started to get a better idea of what the point of luring them all the way here was. still, byan padded quietly through the room on socked feet, approaching the dummy and reaching for their small blade. a quick yank was enough to pull it free and, folding it closed, they pocketed it while their eyes slowly scanned over what appeared to be the final note.

despite themself, they couldn't help but smile a little as they read. as they suspected, the items were all intended for them — a convoluted scheme to get them to wear a helmet and mask, he said, but something told them that the whole thing was just as much to give them a gift without them being able to refuse it. ...something they couldn't deny that he'd done a damn good job of, considering how goddamn awesome the gloves were on their own. they might not have been great at accepting gifts given to them with express intent to make them happy, always struggling when handed proof that someone knew and understood them so well, proof that someone cared enough about them to go out of their way to bring them things they'd like, but even they had a hard time saying no when those gifts were sickass weapons.

breathing a soft snort of a laugh through their nose at the comment about the destructive use they were sure to find in the gloves and sword, byan folded the paper once they finished reading and tucked it into their pocket alongside all the notes which came before it, their eyes drawn to the sword sticking out of the dummy's chest. a hand extended toward it, but froze about a half-second later as a more fun idea came to mind. remembering the gloves' magnetic ability, and having already suspected that it might come in handy if they were ever disarmed in a fight, the teen glanced down at their still covered hands with interest. then, after a moment or two of recalling which finger combination did what, they used their thumb and pinkie and held their hand open, outstretched toward the weapon. almost as if it was the full intention behind the design of both pieces of equipment, the sword tore free of the dummy's torso and snapped directly into the palm of their hand, hilt first. fuck, that was awesome. fingers closing around it, byan tested the blade's weight, turning their hand over this way and that, and then gave it a few experimental swings. it certainly held some decent weight, but it was nothing compared to that of ardaka's weapons, which they were unable to hold for more than a few moments, if at all. this one... it was chosen, if not outright made, with them in mind, and they weren't sure how to feel about it.

deciding it easier to not think too much about it right this moment, to focus instead on how cool the thing was, byan found themself with another question in mind: if their suspicion was right, that the gloves and the weapon were meant to work together... did more than just the magnetic ability affect with the sword? maybe it was a silly thought, some wishful thinking, but they couldn't help but to feel like something was off. something about the blade, how lightweight it was in comparison to the hilt, almost seemed like it was missing something, even if it was clearly functional as is. even if it turned out they were wrong, it couldn't hurt to try, right? no one was here to witness it if they only made a fool of themself.

eyeing the sword and giving it some thought, byan activated the gloves so that the hard-light coated their hands again, just to see. lo and behold, it appeared their guess wasn't so out there after all — blinking, they watched as the strange liquid-like substance ran up along the sword's blade and seemingly heated up, far hotter and much more deadly-looking than the hard-light blades of the gloves themselves.

ㅤㅤ" whoa... "ㅤthe display earned a genuine gasp, their eyes shining as they stared on in awe. alright... everything had been cool so far, but this officially took the cake. a few more experimental swings were given, these even more satisfying than the last with the way the blade glowed and how the heat that emanated off of it, and byan couldn't resist — they had to try something a little more with this one, it was too fucking cool to just turn off without a proper test. thus, turning to one of the other nearby training dummies, they squared up against it, pointing the end of the sword at its chest. practically vibrating with all their excited energy but still trying to look cool, even if they were the only one in the room, the teen readied themself and then let loose a violent swing, cleaving the dummy neatly in two. the torso dropped to the floor with a dull thump, and they couldn't contain the broadest, toothiest grin their face was capable of forming as they looked from one piece to the other. it was only then that, in raising the sword again, they caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an inscription. must've been too distracted by the white hot edge of the blade to notice it before, they figured, pulling the weapon closer to their body to inspect. the script looked like it was probably kariian, which felt like the obvious guess, though they certainly couldn't read it themself, much less translate it. curious as to what it might say, but admittedly somewhat afraid to actually ask when they'd see ardaka later — both because they'd rather not acknowledge the gift if they could help it and also out of an odd sort of fear of all the endless possibilities which could potentially hit too close to home in all sorts of ways — byan again decided to put it out of their mind, deactivating the gloves and setting the sword to the side in order to lay their attention on the final piece of this weird but amazing gift: the helmet.

grasping the armor between their hands, they wrenched the helmet off the dummy's head and drew it in for a closer look. unexpectedly, there seemed to be another note attached, drawing byan to an almost hesitant halt as they pulled the paper and the much thicker, almost cardboard material carefully free. ...that seemed intentional, like they weren't supposed to notice it until they went for the helmet. like they were supposed to find it last, like ardaka knew the helmet would be the least interesting item of the three. and to his credit, he was right — even looking at it now, byan could tell that it wasn't as decked out with cool features as the gloves or the sword, it was literally just a helmet with a protective face covering. ...which, okay, yeah, it was probably about time they had one. at least he got it in pink, that way they might be more inclined to wear it. they'd try it on later, though. maybe when they actually needed it.

setting the headgear to rest alongside the sword, the teen's attention shifted once more to the items which had been attached to it, a slightly wary look etched into their features. ...this felt like it was going to be the really meaningful part of the whole thing. the little treasure hunt and the gadgets had all been fun, set up in a very deliberate way to make sure they were enjoyed to the fullest. it was something they appreciated, though they wouldn't say it, because it made it easier for them to follow along without question, without any overwhelming concern that they were going to get slapped in the face at any point by anything emotional or serious. it was an ideal way to give them a gift, and they had to give ardaka credit for it, even if the realization that he knew them well enough to put together such a scheme in the first place was a bit... frightening, in a way. it was a show of how close they'd allowed themself to get, how much they'd allowed themself to be seen. and this, the final piece in it all, was sure to be the one where ardaka finally allowed himself to express his feelings, as he was so fond of doing. oh, he was good; he knew exactly how to do all of this, didn't he? ...it was stupid how nervous they felt, standing there alone in the weapon room, with nothing but a note in their hand. —well, a note and...

drawing in a steady breath, byan flipped the thicker of the two sheets over first, freezing up at the revealed image. it was... them. even the most cursory glance made that much clear, despite the simplicity of the drawing. —it wasn't even simple, it was merely minimalistic, with great care still clearly taken with each line. did he...? —he did. not only did he draw them, a portrait in return for that which they drew of him, but he did it in his own unique style with his own favoured tools: his claws. these were no lines drawn by pens or painted by brushes, there was something too different about them, the ink had flowed off in such a unique way... it had to be his claws. despite themself, despite the tightness in their chest, despite everything, looking the drawing over forced another smile across their lips against their will. he nailed the expression, okay? that was it. it wasn't like they found it really sweet or meaningful or like they planned to display it in their room like they'd noticed he'd done with theirs, or anything! ...there was a pretty good shelf in their closet that they could set it up on though, so they'd see it at least once a day without it being obvious...

clearing their throat, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness that had extended up into it from their chest, byan turned the final final note over and covered the portrait with it so they could stop thinking about that, too. having braced themself for some really mushy, emotional comments about them, about his decision to set up this whole experience for them, and about the gift they had left him several weeks ago, it came as quite a surprise when reading through it... they didn't find it that bad. there was still some weight to it, of course, but nothing nearly so intense as they were expecting. he even balanced it out with a comment about their knives being toothpicks to (playfully) exasperate them, and left a translation for the inscription on the blade so they wouldn't have to ask him in person — and that, too, was far more tame than they had anticipated. if they were to guess, the part of the note written at the bottom in kariian, the one part they couldn't read, was probably the bit with the most emotion in it, which... again, they had to give him credit. if that guess was right, that meant he effectively left them able to maintain their comfortable ignorance, unprepared to handle words too kind or heartfelt, while also being able to express those things as he preferred to. it was clever, and they would be ignoring it for the time being.

he got them. he fucking got them. he figured out the perfect way to give them a gift perfectly tailored to them without having them turn it down and take off, the perfect way to get them to actually accept and (potentially) wear a helmet and/or a mask, and the perfect way to give them something heartfelt, as well as a (presumably) heartfelt note without freaking them out. he was truly a worthy adversary. ...or rather, a worthy friend. or... something closer to family, maybe.ㅤㅤ—maybe.

smile gentler than they'd ever admit to, than they'd ever allow anyone to see, byan kept the last note neat and flat against the portrait beneath it and proceeded to collect both the helmet and the sword. although they had the full intention of coming back to mess around a little more seriously with the gloves and the blade in a while, they wanted to tuck everything else safely away first. —so that if ardaka came in later, he wouldn't see it all still there and comment on it, obviously! not because they wanted to keep it safe, or anything!! ...but also maybe so they could finally get that cup of coffee and have a few minutes to process the strange and somewhat overwhelming morning they'd had before they started stabbing and cutting more dummies in half.

ㅤwhen they left the room, items bunched together carefully in their arms, it was on light feet, hair bouncing with each step, and a warm, happy smile still firmly intact.