#the tragedy of being born a daughter

[kuroochako]

actually i identify as “a bad liar with a savior complex”, “argumentative antithetical dream girl”, “just a girl in her room trying to forgive herself”, “my mother’s child”, “monster on the hill, too big to hang out”, “mirrorball”, “the archer”, “no one sees when you lose when you’re playing solitaire”, “my poor parents’ teenage daughter”,

[councilofcastamere]

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

summary: The reader is Aemond’s new bride, a match fixed some time before Viserys’s death. Daemon’s daughter through Lady Royce navigates through a difficult now into a new chapter of being married to the one eyed prince, council and war.

warnings: daemon being an awful dad, Luke’s death, attachment issues, angst, slow burn, arranged marriage

word count: 5.1k

Part 1. Part 2

-

Worlds changed, dragons spew fire, flowers burnt and flowers bloomed, children born and doomed. Y/n, Daemon Targeryn’s first born through Lady Rhea Royce. A child he had despised ever since her birth, just an extension for his hatred towards Lady Royce in the first place. He could never stand her, having been forced to his duties he hated her even more. He was never around for the aftermath of anything, the rogue prince who knew no bounds. The child wasn’t even half a year old when he mercilessly put an end to Lady Royce. The ‘accident’ left the child at the kindness of pitiful wet nurses and the castle staff.

King Viserys however couldn’t stand such tragedy over and over, he generally refrained from interfering his brother’s life. He did regret his decision of marrying daemon to someone against his will but he could not have anticipated such a harsh counter reaction via Daemon. Especially after the babe, Viserys thought the child could perhaps soften the coldness of their relations but it only got worse. The king wished to seek some atonement at least for the sake of the child. Y/n, the princess, away at the grasslands of Runestone. He arranged for her to live at the red keep, a motherless child with an absent father would do better within her present family. The King’s children through alicent were mere babies themselves. The maids, the kind Queen herself, would do well to look after the infant. After all the red keep was her house just as much as it was Daemon’s despite his grievance towards it. Her dragon too was well looked after through the keeps instead of Runestone staff. Her dragon was just a hatchling as y/n too was a baby herself.

Alicent, younger at the time. The keep’s staff, mastered in squalling babies and fussy infants. Y/n wasn’t a bother at all. Not that she were to remember but Queen alicent was kinder to her than the fates had been, she nursed her like one of her own. Such fondness and softness towards daughters, it was nice enough. At least for a while. Y/n was six by the time daemon had come for Rhaenyra’s wedding, then off with Laena. No familiarity between the six year old y/n and her father. Too young to understand her family setting and Daemon still rancour.

Daemon had two daughters with the driftmark princess, viserys deemed him capable enough to raise y/n then. He decided to send little y/n back to her father, viserys wanted his brother to accept his daughter. Alicent had a smaller voice at that time yet she tried to reason with her husband to let y/n be at the keep. Daemon had to accept his brother’s whim anyways so he did. Viserys was as relieved as Alicent was anxious that y/n was in Pentos. King made the decision in good faith, if only he put a bit more distrust in daemon than he did trust. Daemon was still the same, y/n, still a child and he did nothing to make her feel included or at home. She learnt to keep to herself how she had seen Haelena do. Still quite young to comprehend where all such distaste came from, all these different people, different land. She longed to call a place home, her memories of the red keep, Alicent, the others it kept fading because she was but a baby back then. Her father wouldn’t teach y/n how to ride on dragon back how he did with her half sisters. But y/n had taught it to herself. Watching she learnt, she didn’t have to be told explicitly what to do. She fell a lot, on her face and back but she learnt anyways.

As years passed nothing changed between y/n and her father, her half sisters were company enough time to time but she was always in their orbit and not as close. All until Driftmark, they lost lady Laena. Y/n was in her early teens and she tried to be there for Baela and Rhaena. She stood by their side through their mother’s funeral. She understood the gravity of such tragedy, she lived with that grief all her life for her mother who was a stranger she never even met. But she mourned her longer than she’d known her.

Reunited with Alicent, gaining a distasteful look from Daemon. “You’ve grown so much” Alicent remarked as she pulled the girl into her embrace. Both of them looked so much different from when they last met each other. The girl had distant memory of the queen but her warmth was nicer than she had known anyone else’s. Despite the occasion alicent was brought some peace of mind seeing Y/n, she didn’t look her best but at least not the worst. She didn’t have to ask y/n to know if Daemon spoke to her, if she felt at home. She reintroduced y/n to her children, some of them y/n didn’t even remember through faces if not for name.

“She was such a small babe.” Helaena commented as she greeted the young girl. It had been years since Helaena had seen her. Aegon and Aemond just stood with disinterest, Aemond trying to mask it otherwise regardless.

After the tragedy that was which followed Laena’s death upon the nightfall of her funeral. Aemond’s eye was taken and it was a rather gruesome unfolding. A night which left a permanent distance between families. A mark which shaped Aemond for years to come.

As the years followed, dragonstone proved to be just as dreary and awfully lonely for y/n. None of her half siblings were her own or ever treated her as such, unsolicited kindness was all she would get here and there and she had accepted surviving it. Thinking of lives far away, a place where life would begin. But it was perhaps never. As King Viserys’s health worsened the queen and hand took matters into their own hands bit by bit.

The queen, declared that it is but the king’s wish for Aemond to be married with y/n, Daemon’s firstborn. Viserys was asked about it, surely, his decision was firm and wearily elated about the marriage so what does it matter who pitched the thought as long as the king agreed. Aemond was agitated. He did not want it, at all. For the ever present and abiding Aemond he had a rift with the thought of marriage to y/n. But he kept his shortcomings to himself.

Even more so mortified was y/n, she didn’t remember how exactly was her childhood at the red keep but she did recall that ever since driftmark, that family would surely not have a soft heart for her. “Father please don’t-please don’t make me do this” she pleaded Daemon.

“It is the King, my brother’s wish.” Daemon said in a disregard of her wish, surprisingly he was fine with his brother’s second hand wish too. Daemon was aware that the Hightower queen and Otto is who pulled all the strings and his brother was a bed ridden king but this was a decision in his favour as long as he could be rid of y/n.

“You cannot marry me off like this!” She exclaimed, for someone who rarely expressed thoughts to daemon. Something she learnt in all those years with being met with cold shoulder all of life, she had to fight for her life as of now. “Not to Aemond, please father please, I do not know any of them-“

“You do. You have spent most of your childhood at the hip of that Hightower queen you will be just fine.” Daemon scoffed with a bit of condescension in his voice. Indifference as he referred to Alicent.

“I do not remember them” y/n tried to reason, any wet nurse could show sympathy to a high born motherless child she did not account to be in a marriage with that sympathy at this stage in her life. “They are complete strangers, father, please I will stay wherever you ask please don’t marry me off!”

“You are of age, y/n. This is a fitting decision for you!” He exclaimed with growing irritation at this conversation, daemon never paid mind to her moreover chose not to and hence he had expected her to show nothing but compliance.

“For me or for you?” She asked with a bitter huff looking away from her father already losing hope in this conversation, she couldn’t stomach this decision without letting him know her repulsion of it. “You are so eager to wash your hands off of me as if I have ever wronged you, all my life, I’ve never asked for anything-“

“Haven’t you?!” Daemon said loudly, his rage visible in his tone “The fact that you exist is asking too much of me as it is. You are an awful reminder and a mistake. I have been subjected to duty and honour and it is only fair if you are too. It is your duty, if not to me then to the King.” With that the door was slammed as the rogue prince walked out, an ironic vision of her life.

A bitter goodbye and an uncertain life with little to no hope y/n was set for the red keep, glancing back at dragonstone for one last time. She didn’t know if she held any homely softness for that place in her heart but she presumed the life which awaited her would be more dreary than the stone.

The wedding was an intimate affair, a small ceremony but still a lot of strangers y/n had never seen. Daemon refrained from attending but it was no surprise. She was met with warmth and affection from her mother in law and her family but not her husband to be, they were all a strange set of people down here in the south from the maids to the king himself who didn’t even sit on the throne yet made decisions.

Even the most beautiful flowers would wither away at the heavy heart of the new bride of new title, the princess. She couldn’t stand her person she was becoming or moreover the mere idea of what she had to be. Aemond wouldn’t even share the same bad as her, almost every night for the first week. He’d rather sleep on the sofa or some nights he’d just never return from wherever he wandered off to.

Barely getting the grasp of it, small domestic solaces just everytime she was with Halena and her mother in law, tending to her niece and nephew. The only time she felt less alone but she was familiar with the loneliness, that wasn’t the problem. It was the nerve wrecking confusion and uncertainty that followed after, eating her alive every night that she would lay. Within strangers now, she felt a stranger to herself too.

Days passed, circumstances arose: the king fell. Aegon was declared the king, a restless unease of an upcoming war. The hand’s very first decision was passing daemon’s seat on the council to y/n. “What?” She asked wide eyed as the hand and queen pitched it to her. “Why, me? I’m not even that learned…” she trailed off.

“You spend most of your time in the library, you happen to have a knack for reading. I’m assuming you can write too?” Otto questioned, if more number of people on the council were his own to mould and speak for the rule would be so much easier.

“Yes but just letters and scrolls..” she trailed off with a sigh, it was rather strange they would approach her for something as important as the council in the first place.

“We need sharp mind of a soft heart on the council.” Alicent said as she caressed her daughter in law’s cheek, with a smile to put some confidence in her. Despite her father’s motives of having y/n on the council, Alicent believed y/n would prove to be rather fruitful and genuine.

“It is also your birthright, through your father’s seat on King Viserys’s council. It is only right if you were to be a part of it.” Otto added in an encouraging manner. The pieces were being set already, as the blacks were processing their own steps.

They had Aemond set to go meet lord Dorros the very next morrow, with a bribe of the crown’s coin and loyalty. The forces set, Aegon’s coronation done. Just one last afternoon council left. Aegon, riding the high of his coronation wasn’t present in this one.

Everyone took their respective seats, it was an eventful morning’s slow afternoon. The coronation was as eventful as it was unpleasant with the beast beneath the boards. Sending out scrolls to other lords, the council discussed it. Y/n didn’t say anything, just listening. Writing out the needed scrolls, Alicent quietly remarked her beautiful hand at the words.

The door slammed open as Aemond entered, he was enraged at his wife’s seat on the council. “Aemond.” Alicent said as the room stiffened.

“What is this?” He asked with as his brows furrowed, he felt very wronged and partially frustrated that his lady wife had a seat on the council above him.

“It’s a meeting.” Otto declared as he looked back from the board back to Aemond, “Not yet done, what is your business here?”

“What is she doing here?” Aemond inquired as he leant over a chair, more belonging in this room than anyone else. Especially his wife, he thought to himself the other members with an awkward look on their face.

“She has a seat extended on the king’s council after her own father, daemon.” Otto filled him in on the subject, visibly disinterested.

“Daemon’s claim on the council died with my father’s death. She holds no such extension.” Aemond reasoned calmly, very much opposed to the irritation rising inside him.

“I’m still a hand to the king aren’t I? Your mother is on the council. Lord Tyland-“ Otto replied back but was interrupted by Aemond midway before he made his point.

“None of them sworn against Aegon. Daemon has called for the pretender hence his seat on this council holds no significance.” Aemond scoffed looking down at his wife who sat, scrolls lay in front of her and a pen in her hand. She felt overwhelmed with such necessary distaste, the hand to the king and queen mother herself asked her to join the council yet Aemond had an issue. It’s not as if she were to act against the interest of the crown or make big decisions to begin with.

“She is the princess. Your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of the gods and all the members of this very council and more. Despite Daemon’s treachery and your incoherent jealousy she belongs here.” Otto said breaking Aemond’s mouth, he knew which nerve to exactly hit. Saying Aemond was jealous, of his lady wife’s seat in front of everyone. It was enough to send him seething back and he was right. With a huff as he stared down at y/n, he turned to his heel at left.

Everyone had their accustomed part with a potential war brewing. Aemond had to leave to meet lord borros next morning. Y/n assumed he would be calculating and supposedly busy with his task at hand yet he found time to cause a scene at the council. Y/n knew that nobody on the council saw her as a threat because they all knew of daemon’s indifference for her. The black sheep. In truth she didn’t owe her father any loyalty either so their calculations were correct, her husband however.

She planned to avoid him regardless, spending the rest of the day with the twins, Helaena talking her ear off about her fixated spider and y/n loved that too. Jaehaera was playing with y/n’s hair, adding her toys into it making improper braids. Jahaerys running in circles and hoarding his toys in y/n’s lap as she enjoyed a conversation with their mother.

Alicent walked in, for a moment just taking in the domesticity of the scene. The serenity, the girls laughing. It was rather rare before y/n to see Helaena at peace like this. She entered with a soft knock greeting everyone and she took a seat next to y/n, “Children you must retire your auntie now, it’s rather late!”

“It’s alright mother, it’s not that late.” protested, Haelena she enjoyed y/n’s company as much as the whining children, Jaehaera caged y/n in her tiny arms from her back to not let her go. However through alicent’s hesitant eyes y/n realised she must have some sort of business to discuss.

“Forgive me my loves I am growing a bit tired…but I’m not going anywhere I’d be back soon enough!” She said with a sigh as she kissed the twins goodbye, both of them a bit protestant but let her go eventually. “Good evening, Helaena.” She smiled and bid her goodbye as well and exited with her mother in law.

After they were out in the hallway, secluded of other ears Alicent proceeded “Are you alright?”

“Yes, your grace” y/n replied with a non hesitant nod, in an instant with a smile confused why would that question come up.

“Mother.” She corrected her stopping on her way to turn to face her.

“-Mother.” Y/n said with a soft smile rephrasing her title.

“After…today’s council. You have been avoiding Aemond?” She asked searching for y/n’s dreary eyes.

“No-that is not the case” y/n shook her head trying to formulate a better answer given she hadn’t asked that question to herself. Because in a sense she was avoiding Aemond. “I—“ she breathed “I am rather anxious.”

“Of what? Does he speak to you in an ill manner? Do you wish for me to talk to him?” Alicent inquired concerned for her hesitation of Aemond’s lashing out or whatever it was she was trying to avoid.

“No-no it’s not that…I just feel guilty. He wants an authority, his opinion to be heard at council level and I get that place before him, we’re not at the best terms to begin with and now he must be cross with me” Y/n explained her worry with a sigh.

“And? It is your right, y/n.” Alicent said as she took her hand into hers in an affirming way, “you must never feel guilty for claims that are solely yours.” She explained, “as of Aemond, he can be difficult sometimes, but I assure you he isn’t malevolent. He loves you.”

The Queen mother’s assurance felt it came from a place of gentle constitution and the motherly naïveté of overlooking some things but y/n was more than aware that Aemond did anything but love her. She was familiar with lack of warmth, affection, just so far from it she could almost find strange ways to dwell in it. It was an emotion she knew for so long, from her father’s house to her husband’s, bricks of her old life and no love.

But she did not tell alicent of her wearies, after all she did not worry about it she was at terms with it. But she was worried meeting Aemond, as of now, she walked the hallway to their shared bedchamber with heavy breaths. Aemond was looking out the giant window, he had a journey to make the next morning to the baratheons yet he wasn’t resting or preparing. Much to y/n’s demise she hoped he’d be off somewhere else. She closed the door behind her as she entered, Aemond never talked to her generally. She never spoke unless spoken to but today silence weighed heavy between the two of them.

“The meeting ran late did it?” Aemond asked without looking back at her, he could tell from the soft stride who entered their chambers.

“No, I was with Helaena…” She trailed off growing strangely anxious because she felt answerable to him. As if it would compensate him and that was her burden to bear. “The meeting was rather trivial”

“Was it now?” He scoffed in a bigger way and turned to face her, “You must have provided the trivial meeting with your other worldly wit and understanding of warfare.”

“Aemond” she said taking in a sharp breath, meaning to tread carefully “I know you are upset. Believe me I did not know beforehand of the planning nor was it offered to me, the hand-queen mother they deemed it as my duty and right and I did not have other choice otherwise I would’ve asked you…”

“Asked me what?” Aemond interrogated crossing his arms as he leant against the stone pillar, her feigning nonchalance and false sympathy irritated him to no end.

“To take my place” she answered. She meant it in a genuine sense because she did not hold the same passion or want for a seat on the King’s council the way Aemond did. It was far from her. “I’d rather you take my place, I have no wish for authority on the council. I could ask the hand to-“

“You truly are the imbecile I presumed you to be.” He said assertively as he stiffened, his shoulders tight. “Are you that naive? Do you think I would need your help to put myself on the council? Yours?” He said as he huffed, berating her was his intention. Y/n remained silent, unmoving in her place no matter however she tried and help him or soften the rift in their marriage he was always imbecile from it. In the meantime he walked a bit closer to her, towering over her given his taller stature he leant forward by a bit to make himself appear intimidating.

“My apologies then.” She muttered lowering her gaze from his because she felt rather scrutinised by him as if she was at fault for something, as if she had wronged him. “Excuse me” she said before he could reply and attempted to retreat away to the adjoint bathroom. Wait out him falling asleep or leaving. The newlywed with their peculiar marriage of indifference.

-

Aemomd’s return from his errand with the Baratheon lord contained of a difficult detour nobody had anticipated. Rather difficult, to navigate such a blow through warfare. The council, y/n merely heard and spoke four sentences on an average, was shocked. No idea of action status not war treading. Circumstance heavy on everyone. Shame and disregard.

Sitting by the burning lamp, late evening, the scrolls and letters were to be written with such urgency after what happened with lucerys y/n had to take it to her own desk. Too busy with the works she barely processed the loss yet, she did not know Lucerys as a brother but an acquaintance who was rather kind to her all those years.

She barely looked up when the door opened, only when Aemond drew closer. Rather too close to her desk, he leant on the table where she was writing. Close to where she was sitting he breathed heavily. Putting the pen down and the scroll aside y/n looked up at him. “What did the king say?”

“The king?” Aemond repeated with a small laugh, he was still getting used to the new titles but referring those even behind closed doors was somewhat strange. “Aegon, he is not the most serious about it. Collateral damage he said.” Aemond repeated the words, he was never fond of the bastard himself but he never planned to take such drastic step. “Grand sire had a lot to say and mother, she is disappointed. Perhaps everyone is disappointed?” He asked emphasising ‘everyone’ referring to her. He did not know of his lady wife’s connection with the Strong boy but his own mother had a dislike for him and yet she was disappointed.

“I don’t know warfare as good as the lot of you, but” she nodded to his previous implication of being disappointed in a way, such loss must be difficult to stomach for those really close. “It is a lot…”

“Do you grieve him?” Aemond asked, his tone non threatening nor interrogative, subtly calm.

Pausing y/n thought about it for a moment, she was quick to side with the hand’s cold and calculative decisions as her mother in law suggested writing Rhaenyra letters instead, y/n herself weighed heavy on practicality as if grief was non existent. In a way it was. “I don’t know” she said puzzled “We were never close but he was kind to me, not all of them and not everytime but whenever he could be…” she trailed off. “He was easily anxious about a lot of things, scared.” Last time she had seen him it was the dinner for King Viserys upon the discussion to heir of driftmark. The scene that followed that dinner was distant in y/n’s mind until now. The same inferior fright was in Luke’s eyes that day.

Aemond did not say anything, her words made him feel guilty even more so but he would never display to anyone. He fought for his life debating to the council, to grandsire that it was an accident however not enough for him to take accountability of it as if he had done something wrong. He knew he had, but he did not show it. He could not. It did not come from a place of sympathy nor altruistic intentions but an ambush of unsolicited guilt. “Is it true?” She asked him.

“What is?” He replied as her voice pulled him out of his thought and his gaze met hers, she still sat on the desk the soft orange hue of the lantern on her face.

“You hold no regret?” She asked him referring to the conversation he had with the council when he was confronted about what happened. He did not owe his truthfulness to anyone, especially not the council.

The heavy silence between the two of them told her more than his words could, her eyes softened as he pondered his unsaid exoneration. Nobody would believe him but she might just, “I did not mean for that to happen, nor did I plan it.”

There was a crack in his demeanour, very different from how he presented himself back in front of everyone else about the the whole ordeal. Accountability seeping in and he should know, “Acting bigger than the situation won’t provide you with the atonement you are looking for.” She told him, forgetting herself when he asked for her advice and she assumed in such delicate state of mind he would rather lash out than listen but he did not. He was present, here to listen. To her? So far he had made it so very clear that he held no regard for her whatsoever.

“I am not looking for atonement.” He said more to himself than to her in a gentle tone and a hint of lostness in his expression. He longed for something, some consolation of some kind but he did not know exactly what and he felt restless with heavy emotions.

“You are.” She answered for the question he did not ask out loud, however the epiphany of it was not lost on him as he looked at her like an open wound. He did not protest her because she was right, she held the answers to herself. She could think for him despite of what he did and it unsettled him in some way because he had never felt such softness of anyone else. To know that he had done something he would have to seek atonement for and…hold regard for him still?

“Do you see me differently then?” He asked, small fright creeping him on the inside if she affirmed his answer.

“No” she replied without hesitation nor enthusiasm, she did see him less ruthless and uncaring than she had previously known him to be but she did not tell him that in this state of mind of his. However the heavy silence and the remorseful tension was too much to bear. She stood up from her chair seemingly to leave and attend some other task, just then realising he stood rather close. Before she could attempt to move away he stopped her. Holding her by her wrist he pulled her close but he was already close enough, the distance shortening this small for the first time since their wedding.

“Do you truly, not see differently?” He asked again with searching eyes. He couldn’t do with her short no however affirming as it was it wasn’t absorbing. It did not feed to his shame and guilt.

Y/n did not know how to soothe his wearies, she never thought her perception would matter to him at all. The walls within their marriage came crumbling down as he held her wrist it seemed, she wasn’t going away yet he kept a hold of her. To ground himself more than her. After staring into his eye for what seemed like an eternity she simply pulled him into her embrace, in a tight embrace. Her arms holding his broad stature the best they could, raising on her toes to bring him as close as she could.

Aemond was stunned to say, for a moment. He could not fathom she would want to tread so gently with him after what he had done he did not expect such, such softness. As he enlaced his arms around her waist, hugging her back as he raised her closer to him. His person. He had never felt such warmth and love of hands that would show soft affection even after knowing his ugly work, he was met with her comfort when he deserved retribution. It nestled his spirit in a serene place, he worried the place would vanish if he let go off her so he didn’t. He kept holding her close to him, closer of it was possible as he buried his face by the crook of her neck.

After a while she pulled away but not entirely, resting her temple against his. His soft breath on her as she sighed closing her eyes. He followed to, until he met her gaze again. His impulse wanted to touch her face to make sure she was real, that this moment was. So he did. Fixing the loose strand of her hair behind her ear he cupped her face. She did not move away, heart racing in such gentle exchange between the two of them. It was a first and he did not want her to extend her boundaries for his sake but he could not stop himself, he brushed his lips against her.

Indulging in a passionate kiss, holding her face in his hands as if she was made of porcelain. It was the first time somebody had held y/n with such fragility. Such affection was very foreign to her all her life, even the kiss on their wedding day felt forced and ceremonial. But this felt real, it was. She kissed him back and held him close, standing in the light of a desk lantern, the moonlight seeping in and lovers who might just be alright.

—

—part 2.

I am sorry if this feels rushed, i skipped season 1 bc i want to do all of s2…please let me know what you think in the comments 💕

If you want to be in the taglist pls comment AND go drink water RIGHT NOW ILY SO MUCH !!!!!!!!

-

[blorbocedes]

On: different parenting approaches

so keke rosberg has a world championship, and a newborn son. he retires the sport a year after, the shadow of tragedy following him -- the fatal crash of his friend and f1 driver elio de angelis being the reason.

now keke has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. he bonds with his son in the language he knows best — no, not his mother tongue rusty with disuse — racing.

so he builds a track in their garden in ibiza and sticks his son in the two person kart beside him before he is old enough for the helmet to even fit properly.

keke takes nico to the last race of his career in DTM, in a smaller replica of his exact uniform. keke tells him to wave. the roar of the crowd terrifies nico. he can't. he wants to be a racing driver when he grows up.

and you know this part of the story. the boy follows in his father's footsteps. in the sport of nepotism, keke rosberg is the only world champion father who lives to see his son become a champion.

so nico rosberg has a world championship and a newborn daughter. he retires the sport a year after she is born. he knows the same fatality of the sport his father does, has experienced and lost firsthand.

now nico has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. nico wants to bond with her in every way he can. he wants to be hands on in every way.

he speaks 5 languages, went to an international school and both she and her sister are enrolled in the same one. he reads parenting books, has tea parties with them, and drops them to school.

the thought of his daughters following in his footsteps terrifies him, and he understands now why his mother could never stomach to watch a single race of his. this glorious unforgiving sport of his, and his father's, that doesn't care who it takes. and it seems unthinkable to put a child in a racecar, even though that was his childhood.

but if she really wanted, like he really wanted -- he would not deny it.

so he takes her to a indoor go kart track in monaco, in a helmet that's bigger than her. he's tucked right behind her, safe. they share so many languages in common, french growing up in monaco, german at home, english at school, some spanish from going to ibiza. and this -- although it's been a while since he's really spoken it, his father's language-- is one of them.

[pcktknife]

These are messages I recently received from Ahmed (@/zinaanqar)

In Gaza, life is not just life, it’s a daily struggle for survival. Imagine being a father trying to provide the bare necessities for your family while trapped in a place that imposes impossible choices. For Ahmed this is his reality, a father of three children and an infant born amidst the tragedy of war, living in Gaza and facing an endless battle to secure the essentials.

Every week, it takes $650 just for Ahmed to acquire a modest amount of vegetables, a carton of eggs, and a kilogram of meat. While this amount might seem sufficient to some, in Gaza it barely covers their basic needs. His little daughter, Ronza, requires diapers and milk - the cost of diapers alone is $80, while two cans of milk amount to $27.40. These are simple necessities, but they come at a hefty price in a place where the siege has skyrocketed prices.

The hardest decision? Ahmed cannot meet all their needs. Between buying food and caring for his infant, he has to make choices, each one leaving him with feelings of guilt and anxiety about what comes next. Additionally, Ahmed cannot obtain cash in hand due to a lack of liquidity and the closure of banks in the country. Even when liquidity is available, he pays a 20 to 30 percent fee to access the funds needed to provide for his family.

But his story is not just about needs; it’s about the courage of a father facing an unimaginable ordeal. He is a voice calling for hope in a place where it is scarce. Your support, whether by sharing his story or offering any help, can be the light of hope that brightens this family's life in the darkest of circumstances.

€75,181 / €100,000

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jane Fonda (Barbarella, Sunday in New York, Barefoot in the Park)—Feminist icon, LGBTQ+ rights activist since the 70s, Civil Rights and Native American rights advocate, environmentalist… she really is THE woman ever

Rita Hayworth (Gilda, Cover Girl)—Absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She steals every movie she’s in; she was Fred Astaire’s favorite dance partner, as you can see in clips from their movies [link][link]. Born Margarita Carmen Cansino, Rita's story had its tragedies—her father was awful and had her performing in nightclubs way, way too young; the studio totally remade her look because they were afraid of her hispanic image, putting her through painful treatments and diets; she had a string of failed marriages. But beside all that, I think there's something about Rita that still glows through—an inner beauty that has nothing to do with the studio, or the men who pinned their dreams on her. Rita brings an incandescence to roles that's impossible to replicate, and was truly a great actress in that she could switch from herself—shy Margarita—into a bold and glamorous femme fatale so convincingly everyone fell in love with her as Gilda. She's my favorite movie star, and I think she was a beautiful human through and through—Rita, gorgeous and real and shining bright.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jane Fonda:

" I assume she's already been submitted but I gotta make sure. I think there's an element to movies like Barbarella or her segment of Spirit of the Dead of those having been directed by her husband, who famously made movies about her being hot, and the incredible costume design also helped, but good lord. Look at her"

"She was so pretty, dear lord! She was and still us stunning. She’s great at comedy and drama."

"Shes so hot im so gay for me i will let her hit me with hers car"

"Gorgeous and also still getting arrested at climate protests, which is sexy behavior"

"Watching her in Barefoot in the Park seriously made me, a straight woman, question things"

"PLEASE I LOVE HER SO MUCH"

"Her vibes in these movies are so interesting because she, the daughter of an Old Hollywood star, went on to make both poignant dramatic movies and the some of the silliest things you've ever seen but even in the silly space adventures and sexploitations there's always this undeniable gravitas to her. It's like she's able not to take herself very seriously but at the same time never stops having this grace and elegance and makes it all work together. And she's always been very politically active which is also sexy. Her famous mugshot is from 1970 so right at the cutoff mark but come on"

Rita Hayworth:

Do you need any other propaganda? Here’s the video.

She was not called "the love goddess" for nothing: beautiful, glamorous, despite playing sexy and provocative roles her inherent shyness somehow also would shine through sometimes, creating this contradictory and incredibly attractive image

Often played "the bad girl" who tempted the male hero away from "the good girl"; but did have roles that broke her out of that mold. She was also the inspiration for Jessica Rabbit. THE pinup girlie.

HELP

She was soo beautiful when she was young and she MAINTAINED that beauty into her later years and I think that old lady glamour is hot. bombastic sex appeal

every line she delivers in gilda is so flirty and passionate or absolutely desolate and it's so good

I just have a lot of feelings about her

[evermore-grimoire]

The Evermore Grimoire: Greek Mythology

Melpomene (Μελπομενη meaning "Celebrate with Song") was one of the nine muses known as the 'Muse of Tragedy' in Greek mythology. She was also known as the goddess of music, song and dance as well as being the daughter of Zeus (king of the gods) and Mnemosyne (goddess of memory). In the Classical era, when the Muses were assigned specific artistic and literary spheres, Melpomene was named muse of tragedy. In this guise she was portrayed holding a tragic mask or sword, and sometimes wearing a wreath of ivy and cothurnus boots. According to some traditions, the Sirens (half bird half women) were born from the union of Melpomene with the river god Achelous.

artwork by Yliade

[dandelion-blues]

Imitheos Phantasm

Chapter 1: Like Clockwork

Time has always existed, and yet it has not. For how can time exist when there was nothing? Then, the first being came. Chaos. They birthed the universe and thus time began. Time didn't originally have a name, nor a personhood - they just were. Much like their parent, they simply just existed. 

But then, life formed on those planets that Chaos created. The passageway of time leading to their evolution and their sentience.

It happened slowly at first, or perhaps in an instance — it can be hard to tell for one that represents time, but Time looked to shape a form that wasn’t like the endless waves of timelines.

Time took a liking to the mortals as they now were called and shaped their form off of them. They were even given a name by the mortals when they visited.

Chronos.

Of course, only a part of Time ever slipped away to the mortal realms, influencing their lives here and there, while the other stayed in the celestial or infinite realms.

But it was this piece (or rather several as there are multiple universes and dimensions) of Chronos that truly became attached to the mortal realm — that chose to separate themselves from their main body even if they became weakened by doing so.

This Chronos came to be named Kronos and was mistaken as a Titan in his more mortal form as he traded his tail for legs. 

Kronos walked or rather stumbled through the land that was known as Earth, or Gaia. Kronos recognized one of his sister progeny of Chaos. They weren’t true siblings like mortals, though, just as they simply came into existence as Chaos willed it so.

It was perhaps in this moment, though, the Kronos knew what love was when they saw her. All tan skin, like gold, and fiery red hair like a rose, and those eyes lush and green.

Kronos fell in love. It wasn’t until later, much later though, that he finally got the courage to approach this gorgeous woman. 

He watched her play in the meadows sometimes. Watched as she took special interest in the golden flowers. And he decided to make his red eyes as golden as those flowers.

He didn't really know until much later that this behavior would be perceived as creepy. Afterall, he’s always watching. He’s watched time form the very start of his existence, and why should another one of his interests be any different.

And so, he continued to watch with golden eyes. His once pale blue skin became pale like the clouds that she so loved to gaze out. And his pure white hair became black as the night she dreamt under.

Then, one day, Kronos could no longer just watch, and he approached her.

Kronos learned that her name was Rhea, and she was the daughter of Gaia and Ouranos.

Rhea seemed almost as fascinated by him as he was with her. His tales of time that just seemed insignificant made her bright green eyes shine with wonder.

And Kronos began to see life and time through her eyes, and he spun tale after tale of all they saw and learned.

Kronos learned what it was to live, and the two soon fell in love.

Their marriage wasn’t one of opulence and riches, but of flower crowns and promises and tender embraces.

Of course, that’s not how the mortals tell their tale, but that’s for another time.

But the mortals did get a few things right. Kronos descend into madness and the swallowing of their children.

Kronos didn’t think that there would be negative effects from separating so permanently from his main body, but not much after Rhea was pregnant for the first time, did he start to hear voices whispering in his ears.

He was too weak. He couldn’t protect them. His children were in danger!

He had to keep them close.

Kronos dismissed it at first, but they grew louder and louder every day. Speaking of the tragedies that would befall the child. And when his first daughter Hestia was born.

The voices were thundering. His daughter. His precious daughter. She was so fragile, so breakable. 

And he ate her. She would never be hurt in his stomach after all. She would be able to grow and survive in peace, and he would always be able to protect her like this. He could feel her breathing, her heart, her screams. She was safe.

Rhea was never the wiser, but Kronos knew she wouldn’t understand.

Thus, began the tale of Kronos and how he swallowed up all of his kids, except one, to protect them. Of how, his youngest, hidden away by his sweet Rhea, eventually tricked him into throwing all of his babies up.

No, he couldn’t protect them! They needed to be safe and whole! They couldn’t leave or they would get hurt!

But then Kronos was cut into pieces by his children.

Even then, he only held love for them, not hate like the mortals would say.

Perhaps, this should have been when he merged with his other self, and became whole again, but something stopped him. The voices, the timelines spoke to him. Of him returning, or him seeing his children again if he stayed and healed over time, of wars and blood and massacres.

And so, Kronos stayed and healed and waited.

Kronos didn’t know how much time passed by again until he was conscious enough to think, but one day he could.

At first, he didn’t know what he was seeing, but eventually he learned that he was seeing other's dreams, slipping into their unconsciousness like a phantom.

It was through these dreams that Kronos learned much of the present world.

That his children once ruled over the world all bright and glorious, until mortals made them fade into obscurity. How dare they?!

The mortals even took their names and changed them! Made them Roman! Even named him Saturn!

Then, the mortals dared to forget his children and even made some of the gods fade over time, when too much of their domain was wrecked by the mortals and they were forgotten.

Kronos was once again stuck by that blinding fear, like lightning from his youngest.

His children could fade!

And his children had children. Some of his grandchildren already did!

Kronos was in anguish. How dare those mortals?! How dare they?!

He swore that day that the mortals would be eradicated if it was the last thing he did.

It was then that he was able to slip into mortal’s dreams, into demigod dreams. 

Kronos loved them, he hated them.

They were his grandbabies, they were destruction.

They were his. And that was what mattered.

He could teach them to forgo their mortal ways, after all they have ichor in their blood just as they have red in their veins. For now, though, until gold overtook their veins, they were pesky mortals, they were pawns.

One such pawn great-grandson went by the name of Luke Castellan, and he was going to make sure that he would see his children and grandchildren again… the godly ones of course.

And so, Kronos lied to Luke, for Luke wanted to tear down the gods, his children, and Kronos said he wanted the same. Still, even as Luke’s plans made Kronos’ blood boil, he was such a good pawn for what was to come.

However, everything started to go down when that mortal with more gold than red in his veins stood against him. 

Perseus Jackson, that brilliant amazing grandson of his useless mortal trash foiled his plans at every turn. And there in his dying hour, did Kronos finally see his grandson for the first time. His green eyes are so much like Rhea’s, the fear and anger and hurt in those eyes.

Ancients what has Kronos done?!

Thus, Kronos let himself seep back to his main body, perhaps to be destroyed for good, for all the sins he committed. But, instead, his other self, Chronos, held him, gold peering to gold, and hugged him.

Kronos cried and cried, and they fell into one another. The two became one once more.

Of course, while this moment felt like an instant, it was also so much more. Fusion of two powerful beings into one, atoms spitting and time ending and begging. The universe tilted on its axis, and time once again started anew.

But then, those golden eyes peered at the universe, to see if their family was safe and saw that their grandson with Rhea’s eyes had died.

Chronos raged that day, oh they raged. So many universes fall into dark timelines, but they did not care, for the one who brought them back to the light was gone.

But then, they saw with their eyes turning a brilliant golden, a baby being born, crying out and their soul. Oh, and their soul was Percy’s.

Chronos wept with joy and from then on, they took to watching each and every moment in Percy’s, or rather Danny’s, life.

…Not noticing until it was too late that a scythe sliced their left eye, and the chains shackled them to a clock tower.

Their eyes no longer were the brilliant golden of sand. No, they were the color of blood, red and weak with mortality.

Chronos was no longer time. No, they were merely a slave to those eyeballs that called themselves the Observants. Whatever they wanted he did. Their powers were greatly dimensioned, and he could barely see into the vast timelines. He needed mirrors to see now. No, in this clock tower, they were simply just another clock worker.

So that’s who he became — Clockwork.

Notes:

Both the Gods in the PJO Universe and the DP Universe and the DC Universe (as well as others) can exist simultaneously because they can split themselves (whether permanently or not).

Also, this fanfic idea comes from my #2 "What if...?" where Percy Jackson was reborn as Danny Fenton. Of course, fate has never been nice to the hero's soul, and struggles will continue on in all of his lives. From one universe to the next. At least the dc universe has other heroes to help him (even if they were too late to save him from death). Still, we can only hope that life will give him a break (but Death never will).

[yearnerspermit]

The thing I keep coming back to about the finale is how much the writers get it

Anne Rice wrote the book because of the loss of her daughter. It grew and developed a world and life of its own in the years and decades after that, but at its core, Interview With the Vampire was born from a death. And doesn’t that just make so much sense? For vampires, where birth and death are inextricably linked?

And again, even here in adaptation, no matter how much else is changed:

Louis tells the story. He’s the perspective. It’s filtered through him, remembered imperfectly by him, shaped by him. And Louis is shaped by Lestat, there’s no denying it

But at the end of the day, the story is about Claudia. Lestat only matters here because he became her maker, Louis only matters as far as being the one who initiates that change, and the one who recounts it all

Because what story is there to even be told, without her? Without her life, and her anger? The unfairness of her existence and the unfairness of her destruction? The tragedy that at every step she could have been helped, this could have been avoided, but the only way to avoid it entirely would have been her never entering the narrative?

That truly the only way you could ever avoid the death of the one you love is if you never had them to begin with. And would that be better? For them? For you? It feels like logically the answer is yes. But emotionally? Even considering erasing someone you love from your life feels worse than being the one to kill them. I cannot say even now that I regret Claudia

Every important beat after her introduction — the good, the bad, the ugly — is motivated by messy, imperfect love for her. The story only exists for the love of Claudia, it’s only told for the love of Claudia. The story is Claudia

The tragedy is that they can’t forget her. The tragedy is they can never remember her as she was. Memory is a monster because it’s an incomplete, blurry copy of the people we love who are gone, and it can never be killed, even if you wanted to. But we never really want to, do we? So you cling to that monster, keep it, make it part of you

And at the end? Louis and Lestat, meeting again?

It’s perfect. It’s them, broken. It’s them, on the threshold of learning how not to be. It’s not about romance, its not about betrayal. It’s not about them

It’s two parent, grieving a child. It’s two parents, looking at each other, knowing how badly they failed that child, and knowing how much they loved her still. It’s two parents, embracing and crying and grieving a loss that only they will every truly understand

Because the story is about Claudia. And even when she’s gone? The story is about learning to exist without her. Her absence is still a presence, though. The space she filled, the space it left behind, matters. Because it will never go away, and it will shape them and what happens next, forever

Whatever madness and plot and love and hate spirals out from here, it started from the love of a child, and the loss of a child. And whatever happens next, that will never go away

The story will always be about Claudia

[i-am-traveling-the-multifandom]

Blood and Cheese

Warnings: S2 E1 spoilers, mentions of SA, mentions of gore and blood

So, you are telling me that HBO made b&c an accident. It was supposed to be Aemond. And they made Heleana run while Jaehaerys was being killed and her daughter safe and sound. And Alicent and Maelor wasn't even there. What the hell??!!

They turned one of the best, in fact the only well written part of the book and turned it into this piece of crap

Aemond was never involved. Daemon wanted to kill a child when Luke died because he didn't have the guts to fight Aemond. Aemond might have been the reason the dance of the dragons began but he was never the cause of b&c.

Heleana begged blood and cheese to take her life instead of her children and in the show, she offers her necklace. The entire point of blood and cheese is to show a distraught mother trying to protect her children and being forced to choose which one of her children die. And they made her simply point at her son. Book!Heleana would never. Book!Heleana had to hold the lifeless body of her eldest child that didn't even have his head. She couldn't see his last expressions, was there fear on his young face or was it pain? She would never know until these ruthless killers were found. She would rather lose her life and her sanity than her own children. And in the end, she lost them all. And that is the tragedy of Heleana the Dreamer. That is the tragedy of a mother and a queen.

Jaehaera is sleeping soundly and isn't even harmed while in the books she was a traumatized kid. She was threatened with rape by a man when she was 6 years old. She watched her twin get killed in a helpless position and could do nothing to protect him. That possibly was a driving reason of her suicide.

Maelor was present there at the time of b&c and he wasn't even born in the show. He was two years old; he was a child who saw such a brutal murder. Heleana in her mind made the right decision by offering Maelor instead of the heir to the throne but imagine how much that would have mentally and emotionally scarred him, if it wasn't for his untimely death. He was a victim of 'the greater good'. But it was never him and if he had grown up enough to even form words they would have been of pain and sorrow.

Alicent was in her room having sex with Criston Cole while in the book she had to wait knowing that her daughter and grandchildren would enter any minute and be harmed. She was helpless in those moments, and God knows what went through the mind of this woman who loved her children so much. Her trauma is undermined. She saw her bed maiden killed knowing this might be the fate of her beloved children and it was for Jaehaerys. She had to take care of Jaehaera and Maelor while her own daughter sank into a deep and dark pit of madness. She saw her daughter commit suicide because of this. Do any of us ever stop and wonder if she blamed herself for all this?

Blood and Cheese was one of the most traumatic events in the entire history of Targaryens and I will murder those who say otherwise. Not because I am team green but because I have sympathy. Sympathy for two young children forced to witness such cruelty, sympathy for a child who was inflicted with such early death, sympathy for two helpless mothers who blamed themselves for their children's doom.

And the show destroyed it. HBO destroyed everything, from the cruelty and from the trauma. And those who have never read the book will never know. Never know the cruelty of team black. Blood and cheese wasn't revenge, it wasn't a son for a son. It was pure cruelty and malice. It was the murder of a child who had never done anything wrong, and the show erased it. They never showed what extents team black could go in the name of war and revenge.

And I despise HBO for what they did. Once again, they show that team black can do no wrong, that Daemon Targaryen's actions are justifiable because he did it for his 'family'. But he didn't, like always he did this for the sake of violence, and forever will.

This season is ruined from the beginning. HBO can do nothing to make it better.

[bonefall]

It’d be interesting to have the whole “kits die commonly” thing be important too. Like Bristle died a war hero and will be remembered, but rowankit was just another young death in the grand scheme of the clans, which means dovewing probably faced cats saying “oh that happens all the time, it’s just how life is out here”

so Ivypool trying to relate would probably set her off

There's also an angle here where it's clear that the other Clans are ready to brush off Rowankit's death as "just a sickly kit" when THEY had no losses. Like the whole world wants to treat her son like he was born doomed instead of a preventable tragedy.

TigerHeartstar was sounding this alarm for MONTHS before the epidemic hit. Everyone knew stocks were low, and they were rolling their eyes like it was a future problem. It was only when people got sick that they sent a patrol out to fetch catmint. There were so many moments where, if they'd treated the situation with the urgency it required, Rowankit would still be here.

But instead, her son is dead, and people try to tell her it's not a big deal because in like 40 cat years she can look foward to also being dead, so she can spend eternity with a permanent baby who will never have a chance to grow up.

It's like the only ones who actually understand Dovewing's grief is her family..... except Ivypool. And that should hurt.

So for BB,

I still need to wait for the ASC arc to wrap up before I rewrite it (S O O N) but, this whoooole situation is going to be a LOT crazier even with JUST the changes I made to BB!TBC.

In BB!TBC, Bristlefrost dies twice. First, she's executed by the Impostor early on for being in a relationship with Rootspring. Then, at the end of the arc, she dies knocking Ashfur out of heaven to burn him up in orbit. Both times, Ivypool failed to protect her daughter even when she'd vowed to do so.

I plan to use this SE as a major opportunity to get into Ivypool's head again, and explore how she's dealing with that. I've also been hanging onto an idea for a few months now; that Rosepetal will actually be Squirrelstar's first deputy, but die either on this mission, or during ASC.

I need a couple more books to come out before I start cooking, but the ingredients smell reaaaal nice right now.

[novaursa]

Omg!!! I saw that you're taking requests soo.. I'd like to ask for one since your writing is incredible🫶

Just before I start, if you're uncomfortable with the whole thing it's alright if you don't write anything at all...

Alright, getting started, my request would be Rhaenyra [and team black] x daughter Mc [all platonic, of course]

Rating would be 16+/18+ depending on how graphic you write it, I guess

Now the idea is that the Mc is Rhaes second child with laenor [Cough*Harwin*cough], and the whole scenario starts with her birth and childhood and how she's everyone's sweetheart. However, she has no dragon and is kind of the opposite of Aemond.

While he tries to claim a dragon every chance he gets and has a temperament (as we know him from the show), she is reserved, sweet and waits, being sure that her dragon WILL come to her.

Now the main plot is that at like 9-12 or something, she lets herself get pressured (maybe during the events of driftmark, idk) and tries to claim a dragon like aemond does. However, parallel to him claiming vhagar, she too tries to claim a dragon and legit, tragically dies.

(You can make up a dragon or use one of the unclaimed ones idk, you'll probably find a great solution)

Now, while she was patient and calm, the need for a dragon killed her, and while aemond was impatient and kinda bratty, he actually claimed one.

Nowwww I NEED rhaes [and the fams] reaction. Like, I love the fluff you write, but I just CRAVE GoT tragedy like give me some mothers rage where her daughters tragic, dramatic death is just another kick-start point for the dance.

Now like I said, if you're uncomfy I'm not mad it's a kinda dark(?) request

Hope you have a great day/night 🫶

Unclaimed

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Just like Aemond you didn't have a dragon. And the gods deemed you unworthy once you decided to claim one.

- Paring: daughter!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen (mother) - platonic

- Note: Let's pretend Vermithor is resting at Driftmark.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Your birth was greeted with joy, the sound of the sea crashing against the shores of Dragonstone mirroring the heartbeats of those who welcomed you into the world. Rhaenyra held you close, her second-born child, her daughter, and she whispered promises of love and protection. Laenor stood by her side, his hand resting on your small form, claiming you as his own with the same affection he showed to Jace. But those who looked closely could see the same strong features you shared with your brother, your true father’s blood running through your veins.

As you grew, it became clear that you were everyone's sweetheart. From the moment you could toddle through the halls of Dragonstone, you had a calming presence, your gentle smiles and soft words winning over even the hardest hearts. Rhaenyra would watch you with pride, her heart swelling as you blossomed into a child who was both loved and loving. You had a quietness about you, one that set you apart from the fiery temperament of others in your family.

But unlike your brothers and the other children of your family, there was one thing missing from your life: a dragon. Jace had claimed Vermax, and Luke had bonded with Arrax. Even Joffrey, still young, had a dragon. But you? You were without one, though it never seemed to bother you as it did others. While Aemond, your younger uncle, threw tantrums and chased after dragons at every chance, you simply waited. You were patient, certain that your dragon would come to you when the time was right.

Even in the presence of the mighty creatures, you remained composed, unafraid but unwilling to rush into something that did not feel natural. Aemond would mock you for it, the contrast between his fiery ambition and your quiet certainty driving him to scorn. "Dragonless, yet you call yourself a Velaryon?" he’d sneer, but his words never stung as he intended. You only smiled softly, your calm demeanor never wavering.

“Your dragon will find you when it’s time,” your mother would say, brushing your hair gently as you sat at her feet. Her voice was a balm, a reminder that there was no need for haste. “Just as did many of our blood.”

It was a comfort you took to heart. While others saw dragonless children as lesser, as incomplete, you knew better. You had no desire to force a bond that wasn’t ready, no need to prove yourself by claiming a creature you had yet to meet. You loved watching the dragons, feeling the wind from their wings and the heat from their breaths, but you felt no jealousy, no desperation. Unlike Aemond, who scoured the skies and caverns of Dragonstone, you sat quietly, waiting.

And you waited with patience, with faith, a smile always ready for those around you. In the training yard, you were quick to offer encouragement to Jace and Luke as they sparred. At the dinner table, your laughter was a light melody amidst the clamor of your boisterous family. Even the staff of Dragonstone adored you, their eyes lighting up whenever you entered a room, as if your presence alone made their day brighter.

It was this sweetness, this reserved nature, that endeared you to everyone. Your mother loved you fiercely, for in you, she saw a reflection of her own strength, a quiet, gentle kind that did not need to roar to be heard. The whispers of your true parentage never seemed to matter; in their eyes, you were a Velaryon, a Targaryen, and above all, you were loved. And you knew that your dragon, like the love surrounding you, would come in its own time.

The night at Driftmark was supposed to be a time of mourning, but it was anything but. The loss of Laena weighed heavily on everyone, but for you, it was more than just grief. It was a reminder of what you did not have — a dragon. Your quiet confidence that one would come to you had not faltered, but the whispers had grown louder. You could feel eyes on you, not just from the adults, but from your peers. Aemond's sneers had become sharper, more frequent, and the pressure began to mount.

"You’re nothing without a dragon,” Aemond had spat that night, eyes gleaming with something cruel. His words sank deeper than you let on, a seed of doubt planted in your heart. Everyone else had a dragon — your brothers, your cousins, even Aemond would find one. Why didn’t you?

Perhaps the others didn’t mean to push you, but they did. "You could try for one," Luke had said softly, concern in his voice. "We know you’re waiting, but… what if you don’t have to anymore?"

The words buzzed in your head as you stood there in the shadows of Driftmark, watching Aemond disappear into the darkness, his own ambitions clear. He would go after Vhagar. He was ready to take the risk.

You felt the pull of expectation, the weight of their eyes, and before you knew it, your feet were moving. You headed for the caves. You would claim one of your own, just as Aemond would. The one that had been calling to you in your dreams: Vermithor. The mighty bronze beast, once ridden by Jaehaerys I, lay asleep, unclaimed and waiting, just as you had waited all this time. But now, something had changed in you. The doubt, the pressure, the need to prove yourself clouded your mind.

You found him nestled deep within the cavern, his enormous body rising and falling with each breath. His golden eyes cracked open as you approached, and a shiver ran down your spine. But you couldn’t turn back. Not now. Not with Aemond out there trying to claim Vhagar. You had to do this. You had to be brave.

"Dohaeras," you whispered, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. The old words felt foreign on your tongue, but you spoke them with as much conviction as you could muster. "Serve me, Vermithor."

For a moment, the air was still. The dragon's eyes bore into yours, unblinking, unreadable. Then came the rumble. A deep, threatening growl that shook the ground beneath your feet. Vermithor reared up, his wings unfurling with a deafening roar. Panic seized you, but you held your ground, refusing to flee, desperate to show you were worthy. You didn’t notice how close you’d stepped. You didn’t see the flick of his tail until it was too late.

One strike. One single, powerful blow sent you crashing against the stone walls of the cavern. Pain exploded through your body as your vision blurred, the world spinning around you. You tried to breathe, but the breath wouldn’t come, your chest burning as you crumpled to the ground.

The last thing you heard was the roar of the dragon, echoing in your ears as darkness claimed you.

Rhaenyra found out the next morning. At first, she thought it was a mistake — a cruel misunderstanding. How could her sweet daughter, her gentle girl, be gone? How could this have happened? But then, when the truth set in, when Daemon came to her with the grim look in his eyes and told her it was Vermithor, her world shattered.

Her grief came first — a raw, guttural wail that echoed through the halls of Driftmark. She held your lifeless body in her arms, her heart breaking over and over again as she looked at your still face, the sweetness, the softness that had been taken from her forever. Her daughter, her child, gone.

But then, the grief turned to rage.

“Aemond,” she hissed through her tears, her voice trembling with fury. “Aemond did this. Alicent’s sons did this. They pushed her… they made her believe she had to prove herself.”

She rose, her blood boiling, her eyes flashing with fury. “I will make them pay. They will all pay.”

Daemon stood by her side, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface, but it was Rhaenyra who burned with the intensity of a mother’s grief. The loss of you, her beloved daughter, had broken something inside her, and there would be no going back. No more peace, no more attempts at reconciliation. Alicent’s children had taken something from her that could never be replaced, and for that, they would face the full wrath of the dragon.

"They killed her," Rhaenyra whispered, her voice filled with venom. "Aemond will pay with fire and blood."

[yuri-is-online]

Hi Yuri! Have you ever considered the idea of there being an alternate version of the twst boys in Yuu’s world? Since we have no clue if it’s just another planet or an entirely separate universe, it’s theoretically possible. Poor Yuu would think they are going crazy seeing a familiar face or hearing a familiar voice in another world. Perhaps it is even painful to the point Yuu tries to avoid interacting with the boy in question. - 🦐

(Also, I am well aware of how often I’ve been sharing these thoughts. If they’re annoying you or you don’t feel up to it, I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond or anything. I’m just spitballing and posting before I forget. 👉👈)

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON THIS!!!!! (first and foremost being that you are very much not annoying <3)

An alt version of a twst boy in Yuu's world is just so yummy. There's so much angst potential depending on what the relationship is/was. Did their boy die in some horrible accident? Is he waiting for them, anxious and terrified about where Yuu went? Does this imply that twst also has a version of Yuu somewhere out there in the world? Questions questions. I did sort of write about this idea in the tags of this yan version of the soulbound au, wherein a cursed Yuu driven insane by their curse kills their soulmate before being isekaid to Twisted Wonderland and finding a different version of him, horrified with the realization that they could kill him again... but I want to cook up some dynamics for what the dorm leaders/overblot boys could be up to in Yuu's world first sooo...

I had a hard time thinking about Riddle until I remembered he's a horse girl and cast Yuu in the role of bad boy ranch hand whose dad's got a job at the barn so they're forced to help take care of the horses and warn all the would be YA protags about the "special horse" who doesn't take orders from just anyone. Not that Riddle is the protagonist... he's more the well established rich petty bitch who looks down on the new girls and especially on you because you're never taking care of his horse in accordance with all his stupid rules. And in stereotypical horse movie fashion Riddle has a massive not so secret crush on bad boy ranch hand Yuu who just doesn't get why he keeps trying to talk to them.

There isn't much royalty left in the world, but imagine Leona as the son of some rich business magnate whose older brother got the company and left him with "nothing." Maybe Yuu works at a liquor store part time and Leona comes in to pick stuff up every once in a while. You wouldn't call him a friend, but you guys shoot the shit enough that you have a general feel for each other to the point he joins you on your breaks to keep up the talk and play chess.

I love the idea of student president council Azul. He's made for that trope. Born for it, he'd be such a terror with Jade as his VP and Floyd as well. Floyd. I can't see him really being a part of the student council but I had this idea the other day based off this instagram post I saw about this mom who sews right? Her daughter was running for class president and she made these bracelets with little shrimp on them and attached them to cards that said "Keep it shrimple! Vote for (kid's name)!" And I was struck with this vision of Yuu doing that so like. Yuu running against Azul with that campaign slogan and he's tearing his hair out over it being so popular because people like memes (the original idea had Floyd running as Yuu's vp but they both dropped out at the last minute because neither him or Yuu wanted to do the actual work lol.) I also like student council president Azul and delinquent Yuu... but that's because of Tsuredure Children ha

Kalim and Jamil are hard... but I think the same set up of rich businessman's kid and his bodyguard in training still fits. How Yuu meets them is beyond me, but if you were friends with either of them could you imagine how painful seeing the same tragedy play out in this new world would be? Jamil doomed to always be a servant and Kalim doomed to be betrayed by his best friend... that would be so painful for someone who cared deeply about either of them I could see it motivating Yuu to try and resolve things for twst Jamil and Kalim that much harder.

Ok so hear me out... Vil still wants to be an actor in your world but he doesn't have the connections to his dad and is working as a pharm tech with Yuu at your local drugstore while going to school and hunting for gigs. He mentions being interested in cosmetics and magical pharmacology in game... and he also mentions knowing nothing about his mom so like. Your world Vil ended up with his mom instead of his dad and you get to see him on the cusp of his big break as one of his number one supporters from the very start, only to get isekaid to a world where you get to see what things could have looked like. It's strange how similar and yet not both versions of Vil are...

Idia is the guy who comes in to buy snacks at your convenience store during the night shift who you start talking to when you notice him buying a game time card for something you also play. You're stupid awkward around each other at first, but it's nice to finally have someone to talk about your niche interest with once you've passed each other's sniff tests. You don't actually know him know him though... so getting sent to another world where there's another version of him makes you worried the more you learn about his backstory that maybe you should have been there for your Idia more. Is he doing ok back home? Did he think of you as a friend? You hope he isn't blaming himself for any of this...

Malleus is an old money trust fund baby whose family was absolutely royalty at some point and is still overly attached to it. He likes old buildings, cemeteries, long walks in the fog, you know all those good goth things. He's tall and socially awkward and so grateful for you, his first and best friend who he met one moonlight night he swore was a dream in his favorite abandoned building who spoke at length with him about all sorts of things he liked. So you know. More or less the same. Just without the world ending powers... I think this is another one that would be quite sad. Which version of Malleus needs Yuu more? Which one is the real one? I'd hate the idea of him being destined to always be lonely and lose the ones he loves.

As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all. I know that the Lovebrush Chronicles kiiiiind of deals with this??? I wish I had the patience to play through it has an appealing glasses wearing ro but it's a mobile otome :/ but still. It's a concept I promise I am totally normal about.

[orpheusluvr]

Opposite Attraction (Norton x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

What happens when the daughter of a wealthy businessman falls in love with someone that doesn’t match up to her status at all?

-

-

You lay on your stomach on your bed, still wearing your nightdress while you immersed yourself in the book you were reading in front of you.

“So the rich woman fell in love with the man and married him, despite him being poor. That’s true love.” You smiled to yourself.

You heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N, dear? May I come in?” Your father’s voice echoed.

“Of course, father!” You called back.

He slowly turned the handle to your door and opened it, standing near the doorframe.

“I’m surprised to see you up quite early today, my little princess.” He smiled at you.

“I just felt like doing some early reading.” You smiled back.

“That’s my girl.” He walked over to you, lovingly ruffling your hair. “However, as much as I’m glad that you’re comfortable, you need to get dressed soon. I have some guests arriving today.”

“Oh? Who’s coming over?” You said.

“You’ve heard of the Golden Cave, right?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Ah well, I’m going to discuss a business deal with the owner of it. He also mentioned that he is going to bring some of his best workers along, so make sure you dress well.” He began walking towards the door. “As for me, I’m now going to talk with the maids to discuss the catering. See you soon, my dear.” And then he went.

You closed your book and got up from the bed, walking towards your closet.

After a few minutes of rummaging through different gowns and dresses, you finally found the one that spoke out to you.

A black dress, with a gold strap around the waist. The top part was significantly open, which revealed almost too much of your cleavage. There was also a slit at the bottom, which revealed your right leg and most of your thigh. You slightly gulped, knowing that your father would tell you off for wearing your party dress during a business related event, but this wasn’t just any type of dress.

It belonged to your mother, and most of the clothes that were in your closet were hers. This dress in particular was her favourite.

Before you were born, she promised herself that she would pass her favourite clothing on to her future daughter if she had one. And as if by luck, you were born.

However, tragedy struck after your mother passed away a week later after your birth. The doctors said it must’ve been late pregnancy issues. And because of that, you felt like an unlucky child. Cursed even. But your father was always there to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault at all. However, the guilt within you still lingered. And the fact that you can’t remember anything about her at all while only being around her for a week still hurt.

A few minutes later, you eventually left your room and walked down the steps into the open hall.

Your father looked at you, shaking his head.

“My dear, what did I tell you about this dress?” He said.

“Sorry father, I know it’s a little too much for today but I really like it. Especially since it’s mother’s favourite.” You said.

Your father suddenly paused for a moment, but the sound of the doorbell gave him a sudden shock.

A few minutes later, your father had already started talking to the owner of the Golden Cave about the business deal, while also proudly showcasing your mansion. Even though he was a good father, he still had some arrogance in him.

The cave owner and his workers were shocked when they found out that their new business partner had a beautiful daughter. For some reason, they assumed that your father lived alone.

Your father and the cave owner eventually walked away to discuss things alone in more detail, leaving the workers with you to communicate with.

All the workers that you had greeted seemed much older than you, which did put you off considering what you were wearing. But you still forced a smile. Until someone caught your eye.

While the other workers walked away to look around at the paintings in the hallway, you walked up to a particular worker that was standing alone. In front of a large portrait of your mother that was on the wall.

You stood next to him. He turned to look at you, as you did the same. And for a moment, you felt like your heart had started beating faster.

He seemed to be the youngest worker here, possibly around the same age as you. You couldn’t fail to admit that he was handsome.

“Oh phew, I’m glad I found someone that I can actually talk to.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm.” He grunted. You noticed the way his eyes looked at you, most likely checking you out. You nervously adjusted your dress, while his gaze was still on you.

“That’s my mother, by the way.” You said awkwardly, trying to start a conversation of some sort. “She passed away a week after I was born, though.”

“Oh…I’m really sorry to hear that.” The man said.

“It’s fine. I don’t remember her at all, unfortunately.” You said.

“Well, I can see where you get your good looks from.” He said.

Your cheeks reddened. Did he just compliment you?

“Do you really m-”

Within a split second, he immediately pinned you against the wall, his eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Yes. I meant every word.” His voice was cold yet seductive.

He traced a finger down your lips and chin.

“Tell me, rich girl. Would you ever marry a man that is worth much less than you?” He whispered.

You immediately remembered the book you were reading before.

“If it’s true love, then y-”

Cutting off your sentence, the man immediately met your lips, giving you a passionate kiss before slowly breaking free.

You looked at him in shock, but the feeling you had was indescribable.

You wanted more.

“Does this answ-”

This time, you cut his sentence after returning him with a much more needy kiss. He accepted it immediately, his hands roaming around your waist while yours clawed against his back as your tongues clashed against each other. As you pulled away, you both took deep breaths.

“We can’t continue this here…someone will notice us.” You whispered.

He shook his head as he moved his hands and lifted you up on his shoulder, carrying you into the nearby guest room.

“What’s your name?” The man asked, towering above you on the bed. He began pulling down one of the straps on your dress.

“I’m Y/N. And you?” You said.

“Norton.” He said, as he pulled down the other strap.

“Nice to…ngh…meet you-” you were interrupted as he began kissing your neck, then began biting almost too harshly.

“Not too…hard…” you whimpered.

He replied with a simple grunt as he moved lower, pulling down you dress even further. Your breasts sprung in front of his face, exciting him even more. He began licking around one of your nipples, while his hair tickled your skin. You grabbed a handful of his hair, while your breathing became intense and your moans became louder. You felt the heat in your core increase with every lick.

“N-Norton…please…” you whimpered.

“Mmh?” He stopped and looked up at you.

You were desperate for some sort of friction. You wanted something inside you. Norton smirked, managing to read your face perfectly like a book. He licked his lips as he devoured your figure with his eyes.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give you what you want.” He said as he moved away. He spread your legs apart, then carefully slid off your panties, tossing them away. His strong arm held onto your right leg and raised it up on his shoulder.

He began unbuckling the belt to his pants and pulled his underwear down, revealing his erect dick which was considerably larger than you’d expect, with a few veins running down it. You violently thrusted your hips forward, slamming against his legs in a desperate attempt to make him enter you already. He gave a laugh.

“Gosh…have some patience.” He shook his head, as he entered you instantly, his entire length filling you up. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around him.

“So tight for me, aren’t you?” He purred.

You could only manage a simple nod as you fought back tears. He hadn’t even started thrusting yet, but you could already feel like you were being rearranged from inside.

His dick was just so huge.

Norton used his free hand to hold the side of your waist, leaning in for a kiss as he began at a fast pace.

“Ngh…mmph!” You broke away from his lips, lust dancing in your eyes as you let out a moan after another, synchronising with his fast movements.

“Norton…N-Norton!” You threw both of your arms back, desperately gripping onto the bedsheets.

He kept hitting your sweet spot each time, so perfectly. Your hips slammed against his with each thrust, the sound of skin to skin contact filling up the room, mixed with your small whimpers and loud moans.

You both reached your climax, feeling warmth as each of your fluids seeped out and mixed together. Norton gently pulled out of you, then laid beside you, catching his breath.

You threw your head back as you also tried to catch your breath, your chest falling and rising. Norton took one last glance at you before leaning forward and kissing your forehead, his face a deep red hue.

“Is this true love then?” He looked at you.

You paused for a moment, then smiled.

“Maybe.” You said.

No, it wasn’t a maybe.

After the experience you had just now, you were over the moon for Norton. Right now, you felt like the woman in the story.

But you knew that your father wouldn’t let you stay with this man. Norton noticed your face drop.

He gently cupped your face with his hand.

“I know you must be worried about what your father would think of us.” He said.

You sank your head in defeat.

“Norton, I’ve realised that I’m truly in love with you. But yes, unfortunately my father would rather have me get married to a man who is within the same class as me.” You said.

“Yeah, like I already didn’t know that.” He said, coldly. You noticed that the light in his eyes that he had ever since he first saw you had gone.

“I’m sorry…maybe I could try to convince h-”

“It’s no use. Forget about it.” He pulled his underwear and pants back up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You adjusted your dress then got up and crawled beside him, hugging him tightly from behind. His breath hitched for a moment.

“Y/N…you should stop. You won’t see me ever again after today.” He sighed.

“Norton. Please don’t leave me. I love you.” You buried your head into his shoulder.

He suddenly paused.

“What did you say?” He said.

“I love y-”

Norton immediately turned around and pinned you against the bed, kissing you deeply. This time, the kiss was more of a romantic one.

“I love you too.” He said, after pulling away.

You had fallen in love with a man who worked hard for many hours in such dangerous conditions, most of the time without enough sleep or any sleep at all and an alarmingly short amount of food in his body but still earned less than how much you’d earn in a week from pocket money. A man, whose hands were calloused and dirty from the work he did. Countless cuts and bruises would form each day.

You wanted to be the one to turn his life around for good.

To you, he was the one. Your true love. No one could tell you otherwise.

[authoralexharvey]

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN STARS AND SALT, a WIP Intro by @authoralexharvey

GENRE — dark fantasy || adventure

INSPIRATIONS — The Tiger's Daughter, Final Fantasy 10, I Am Setsuna, LoZ: Wind Waker

POV — first-person directive

TAGS AND TROPES — adventure, angst, (non-MC) chosen one, established couple, finding your purpose, grief, lgbtq, marital problems, post-apocalyptic setting, post-flood setting, queer worldbuilding, quests, sacrifice as an act of love, seafaring, tragedy, travel

WARNINGS — animal attacks, emotional trauma, mentions of plagues, self-sacrifice (NOT suicide), violence

STATUS — draft 0

GOAL — ~80k words

THE DETAILS

CHARACTERS

Edera, the woman who married a star. To many, she bears no significance outside of this fact, which has now caused an identity crisis in the face of Seren's prolonged absence.

Seren, the star who fell from the heavens. For a year and a day, she was conscripted as all Celestine are to watch for the world-devourer of legend. After being the one to witness its return, she becomes desperate for solutions.

SUMMARY

There was and there was not, in the oldness of time, a star-born woman and her hapless wife who ventured on an arduous quest... Star-born Seren has been gone for a year and a day, conscripted as all Celestine eventually are to track the cosmos for signs of a legendary devourer of worlds. When she returns home, her wife Edera couldn’t be happier… until Seren confesses that she herself has seen the World Devourer’s return and that, because she was the one to see it, she must be the one to stop it. Unwilling to allow them to be separated again, Edera and Seren must venture across their drowned world in a harebrained effort to save it. But as darkness looms in the fringes and a strange rot afflicts the world they love, they will have to race across the raging sea to avoid being consumed. But just what is it that lies at the end of this mission? And how can they stop a force so much larger than themselves?

Details of this post subject to change as the drafts continue.

TAGLIST (Ask to be added!)

@surroundedbypearls , @magic-is-something-we-create , @ceph-the-ghost-writer

[thecatsaesthetics]

Hello! Hope you're doing well. A while back you said you could write a whole thing about Alysanne being weirdly sinister about her children, especially her daughters and Baelon. I completely forgot that she did not want him to remarry after Alyssa's death which was super odd. I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on those things. If you want to that is.

I think Alysanne is an incredibly interesting character, I wouldn't call her sinister because that implies she is doing harm intentionally and I don't view her that way. Alysanne is both villain and victim, and I would classify her more as a tragic character then a sinister one.

I think Alysanne fits with the tragedy that is to be born a Targaryen woman. She is groomed from birth to be her brother's counter part, she is deemed "special" as a dragon rider, she watches as her brother-husband claims that their blood line is "exceptional" and then watches as her family becomes victims to the very common diseases and deaths that happen in Westeros. Her mother dies in childbirth, her son dies an infant, her daughter dies of plague, two of her daughters die in child birth, her son dies in battle, etc.

I think in terms of Baelon, she favored him. He was "hers" whereas Aemon was for Jaehaerys. She is the one who insisted upon a marriage between Baelon and Alyssa, despite Aemon being the son and heir (and thus being in need of a sister-wife counterpart). Baelon and Alyssa relationship mirrors that of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. You can read this meta on Alyssa, which I love because this fandom has really tried to act like Alyssa and Baelon are this "perfect" Targaryen couple but if you read the text closely you can see a bunch of issues that fans ignore.

In terms of Baelon post Alyssa, I don't think Alysanne's actions are sinister but rather her protecting herself. If she truly saw herself in Baelon and Alyssa then Baelon remarrying would be a threat to her own place in this Targaryen legacy. If Alyssa can be replaced, so could she if Jaehaerys needed. Again her marriage to Jaehaerys is what defines her, she was married as a child and groomed to be his wife.

Viserra is a threat in her mind, when really Viserra's actions scream of a child in need of help. First of all, the fact that Alysanne claims that Viserra wants to be Queen because she seems to want to marriage to her brother is very telling. Baelon was not heir at this time, and even if they knew Aemon would have no more children, it still doesn't seem likely that Baelon would have succeeded. Aemon as King could have easily declared his grandson his heir if he didn't want Rhaenys.

So how could Viserra know she would become Queen if she married Baelon? She would be a second wife to a second son. It's more likely that Viserra didn't want to be sent away from family, after watching what happened to her sisters Daella and Saera. So Alysanne's claim is more reflective upon herself, and her own desire to be Queen. And the idea of someone, even her own daughter, taking that from her is hurtful. So she chooses to send Viserra into a marriage where she would likely never seen her family again, to an aging lord (who likely had sons already). It's a punishment for attempting to take what Alysanne has been told is hers, her specialness.

It's just so fucking sad, and I don't necessarily think that Alysanne wanted to be a villain and in many ways she was a victim but she caused lasting trauma on her daughters. Similar to her sister Rhaena, who is both victim and villain, it's the lasting legacy of Targaryen women. They are the counterparts to their brother-husbands and thus also are complicit in their crimes. Alysanne really highlights this, Alysanne ends up alone on Dragonstone. After being denied the right to attempt to see her only living daughter, after being denied her granddaughters birth right, after losing her last daughter to a mysterious end. She is alone, and it seems she dies alone, for all the maesters do to push the idea that Jaehaerys had this great love for her he doesn't even seem to be there when she dies. Nor do we get any indication that he mourned her death. Alysanne is alone, abandoned in a sense. A haunting reminder that Targaryen women might be placed as a "counterpart" to their husband but can never escape or be allowed the same level of power.