#to overcome what they never thought they could

[retiredteabag]

Caretaking and Guilt

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Synopsis: quintessential sickfic- you just have a hard time accepting help from others.

Tags: Fluff, comfort, mild angst

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

These past few days you hadn't been feeling so well.

Friends and coworkers had been getting sick left and right. You had thought you were lucky enough to pass it by but after a couple restless nights and a depleted appetite, it was fair to say you had caught the bug.

Yesterday you had tried to prevent the worst of it, taking medicine, drinking orange juice, staying active; none of it seemed to hold back the storm that was this illness.

The second you had opened your eyes this morning you could tell it had all been pointless.

Your head was throbbing, you were unbearably congested, your chest felt heavy, and chills racked your body. There was a cold sweat sticking to your neck and it hurt to swallow. Above all else, you were exhausted. You kept drifting in and out of dreamless sleep, waking to a deeper state of drowsiness.

At one point you had checked your phone only to realize it was mid-afternoon and you had been in bed all day. Toji had been out on a job and would likely be back before dinner.

It's not as if you were embarrassed or ashamed to be sick, but being the fervently independent individual you were, you hated the idea of needing to be cared for.

So, despite your shaky legs and turning stomach, you stumbled your way into the bathroom to try and wash off the sweltering perspiration and muck from yourself.

Something had to be made for dinner after all.

You’d probably feel better after washing up, right?

After what can only be described as a brave attempt at standing under the shower head's assault, you found yourself covering up the drain in your shower bath and allowing the downpour slowly fill up the tub surrounding your collapsed form.

You sat for an inordinate amount of time, every so often opening your eyes to see the waters rising closer to your chest. The droplets knocked against your ears and eased you into a cloudy headspace.

The water was hot. Stiflingly so. What you assumed would aid in clearing out your clogged sinus cavity did very little on that front but rather aided in the onslaught of an enervating fever.

Too weak to consider the sweating and dehydration your hot "rain bath" had caused, you fell into a state of delirium as you shook and dressed yourself in some sweatpants and crew neck.

The man who so frequently was at the forefront of your thoughts was no longer haunting your thoughts. You had originally gotten out of bed to prepare a meal but in your current state, that would not be happening.

It was laughable even to yourself as you made your way into the living room, pitching off to this side and then and staring off at the kitchen and front door for what would appear to an onlooker to be an unnervingly duration.

Eventually, you had to blink and come back to yourself, lost at how you had even gotten into the living room. And for being in such a position to seek comfort, you were overcome with the sudden need to lay on the couch.

Just for a couple minutes to "rest your eyes" as Toji often called it. And "rest your eyes" you did as the room started to spin and your hid your head into the cushions.

--

That was how Toji found you when he arrived home.

The two of you didn't text too often so the fact that you hadn't messaged all day hadn't set of any alarm bells for him. When he came through the front door, finding the place untouched since he left, well, that certainly did.

The room was dim, there wasn't any noise coming from the other rooms of the place, your presence was something he felt he needed to seek, not follow.

It was odd, seeing you there, conked on the couch, smooshed into the bolstering. And even more odd was the feeling it filled him with.

There was an overwhelming sense that something is wrong... Toji had never seen you like this. He tried to recall any hints that could have alluded to you clearly feeling unwell but the two of you had both been so busy. In and out of work, how long had you felt this way?

He knew how you were, never sharing when you hadn't gotten enough sleep or when a light was too bring and causing your headache to throb. Of course you wouldn't have said anything.

He should have noticed it. If Toji is good at anything, it's noticing. Especially when it comes to you. So whatever was going on, it must have progressed rapidly.

Toji sat up against you on the couch, when you didn't move or make any show of recondition, he pursed his lips and told himself to relax. His palm made its way around your head between the couch in order to feel your forehead and it was then that he started to panic.

You were hot. Too hot.

He had never been sure of what to do in these types of situations. His immune system was just too good, he rarely had issues like this and he had never seen you in such a pathetic state.

You were going to play it off when he woke you, he knew you would, so, how then, is he supposed to know for sure how serious it was?

He leaned his weight against your back now, looking down as your sunken form. He didn't say anything until you had whined and shifted to squint up at him.

"Hey." It came out grumbly.

"Mmm?" Everything felt airy, your ability to move your body, your recondition of where you lay, the man before you. Was any of this even real? Gosh, you felt awful.

"How you feelin'?"

Toji was a big, tough, guy. He was notorious for his unfeeling and cold nature. Rarely did he take the initiative to coddle or pamper you. And even rarer still were the times you would allow it.

In this moment though, every fiber of his “big, tough, guy" being was blaring for him to treat you gently.

He ran his hand down your back, the gooseflesh on your neck sent a chill across his and he began to seriously worry that you must be sick.

"mmm" Was your only response.

You firmly placed your face back between the couch and its cushions, truly believing you had just given a proper reply to Toji.

Narrowing his brows even further, Toji leans in, gently petting your back, lifting your hair from your neck. He places the back of his hand to your flesh there.

He couldn't recall a time where you had ever been more heated than he.

"Hey, I need you to look at me." He whispers, trying to draw your attention again.

"...ughhh...'oji" You try to shift from him but in no state, certainly not the one you presently found yourself in, were you a match for his strength.

"hey, hey, hey..." He doesn't even realize the tone he has taken on, as if he is approaching a wounded animal. He really just doesn't know what to do.

"...Eghhhh... it'ssso cold."

It is this slurred declaration that finalizes it for him. Never before, even when inebriated, have you taken on this tonality.

Toji's thigh jitters on the couch but he hides his internal alarm well otherwise. He is usually so quick to manhandle you over his shoulder, tossing you this way and that. But not now.

He takes you tenderly, and when you shuffle your face into his arm, he swallows the feeling that coats his throat.

"You been feelin' bad all day?"

He makes his way to the bedroom, when you nod into his chest his posture straightens.

Of course.

Once you're feeling better he's going to need to have a talk with you about sharing how you feel. At this moment, however, you are a limp noodle, falling away from his body as he plops you onto the bed.

He tucks the blanket around your body and sits on the edge of the bed.

"You eat yet?"

If you think that not responding will get him off your back, you are sorely mistaken. He would get an answer out of you. Nudging your side, pressing your body further into the mattress.

"Hey. Have you eaten?" He asks, slower this time.

You open your eyes, feeling a bit more cognizant. From the bed, you heave a breath and blink up at the man. "M' a bit nauseous."

"So, no."

"Yeah…”

He sighs, saving his lecture for when he isn't pounding with anxiety at your expression. The bed starts to tilt as Toji shifts his weight, moving to get up.

He was very likely going to prepare something light for your stomach, but in a moment of weakness, (wholly brought on by the cloudy brain and certainly not your realization of how soft your man was being) you reach out for him.

"Don't go."

A shiver causes his shoulders to tremble. A week ago he would have said no, shoving you off him only to fulfill your request. But in this moment he doesn't even have it in himself to jokingly deny you.

Turning back, he tickles a hand along your face. Pressing slightly at your temples. The massage eases everything for a moment, you wish you could stay like this for the however long your ailment lasts.

You roll over slightly, turning your face away from him and into the pillows. His fingers dance from your temples to the side of your eye, to the bridge of your nose. He presses slightly, running his fingertip up the length of it, to the space between your eyes, then back again.

He repeats the motion a few times, watching your breathing even out. He watches chills roll over you as his hand finds the back of your neck, moving to scratch gently there.

It does not take long for you to fall back into a restless sleep. As he watched you snore under the lump of blankets, he hoped this rest would do you well.

Toji isn't the best cook out there, but he's not as useless in the kitchen as he might seem. He would swap between preparing soup to peeking into the bedroom every so often. Cutting up some potato, shredding some chicken, chopping some carrots. Only to get nervous and stand in the doorway to watch the heep of germs on his bed.

Typically he would feel a sense of accomplishment for his healthy meal and the speed at which he prepared it.

Not now. His thoughts were filled with your weak voice back on the couch, your gaze when you asked him to stay with you.

He had never seen you like that. It had thrown him.

Toji almost didn't want to wake you but it only took remembering that you hadn't eaten all day for him to eventually nudge you awake.

You groaned and complained but once you were conscious, it seemed that you were more aware.

"W-wait, what?…Toji, you made this?"

"Yeah, so you better eat it all."

He scooched you over into the middle of the bed before sitting up beside you. You waved off his attempt to feed you, insisting on holding the bowl in your lap.

So Toji just watched, looking down at you spooning soup into your mouth. Humming every so often.

"It's good, Toji."

"Oh, yeah?" You aren't looking at him but you can hear his grin, "Lucky you, there's plenty of extra."

You smile. But it doesn't reach your eyes.

You know Toji did this because he wanted to, but sitting here, being useless all day, you felt so ashamed.

"...Lucky me....thank you...Toji."

"No worries." His fingertips found the back of your neck once more and started thrumming a pattern while you stared off, still eating.

"I'm sorry."

You couldn't not say it. It just came out.

"What? Why?"

The spoon clinks against the bowl and you cover your eyes with a hand. "Just...all of this, I'm sorry it happened, and that you had to come home and do all this."

"Alright-“ He leans over now, trying to bend and catch your eye but you turn away. He grabs the bowl in one hand and sets it on the bedside table beside him. "I don't want to hear you say that again."

You shake your head to disagree but he leans back then, gripping your shoulders and laying you atop his shoulder.

"I wish you would let me take care of you."

You stay on him, feeling his chest rise and pound with life and love. But you still try to avoid the eye contact he was trying to make happen.

"You already have-"

"Well I wish you would let me without whatever all this guilt is. I don't want you feelin' bad for getting sick. And then apologizing for me watching out for you."

There was a steady pause. The two of you lay, listening to the silence, awaiting your reply.

"Thank you." Is all you said.

Because it's what you felt. And you knew he wouldn’t accept anything else.

"Sure, baby." He leans down and kisses the top of your head.

And as badly as you would like to stay present and ask about his day like you normally would. It is becoming a real challenge to stay awake. Especially with his hand tracing patterns over your arm.

And for the first time in three days. You have some restful sleep.

--

The next day you wake feeling much better, rejuvenated even. But Toji is still fussing over you like he's your grandma. Tapping his foot and waiting for you to finish eating before allowing you to do anything else.

"I slaved over that, you better not leave a drop."

You roll your eyes, grateful the teasing dynamic has come back to you both. Even so, there is an underlying care that the two of you share, you smile before getting up, he tries to take your bowl but you insist on washing it yourself.

Toji’s head is on your shoulder and his breath whispers on your neck, you rinse the suds from your dish. For once, it feels nice and warm to be cared for without pretense.

You set your bowl on a towel, quickly shifting to tiptoes and leaving a smooch on Toji's cheek.

He makes a funny noise in the back of his throat then. Whiling around to squish your cheeks in a firm grip.

"Ya better not go getting me sick."

You stare at one another, and although he had just finished pushing your from him, he looks at your face in his hand. And without a moments hesitation longer, he drags you in for a proper kiss.

To him, felt good to love you, and to you, it felt good to be loved

[protect-namine]

this post is about qiao ling. but first, I want to talk about the power rangers of this show.

so. I'm really glad YE2 is putting the triple star warrior mirroring in a more interesting context

because that's clearly the intent and it's not like it doesn't make sense back in S1, but the actual execution of that mirroring seemed shallow at best with just S1 knowledge

(look! qiao ling even bought cake of them in the S2 finale)

I think it's because I couldn't quite place qiao ling's role in this until now. she's the star of wisdom, but she's the one who is the most out of the loop and lacking in knowledge... or so we thought. but with the S2 ending giving her tianxi's ability, and YE2 showing that it's a pattern for her to keep relevant information, then yeah, it's starting to make sense. the triple star warriors really are their character arcs.

star of justice, bringing hope (cheng xiaoshi's kindness being both a strength and a weakness that can either uplift or endanger other people; "even if you don't see hope, it doesn't mean it's not there")

star of courage, conquering fear (lu guang timelooping himself is the most extreme response to fear he has over cheng xiaoshi's death)

star of wisdom, serving knowledge (qiao ling and the burden of knowledge that she keeps from people out of guilt or protection)

and they really do need to overcome all of that to get the good ending.

anyway, I just think it's neat. I thought the triple star warriors mirroring was cute back in S1, but now I love it even more knowing qiao ling's place in all of this. I actually love this trait about her. she is always taking care of other people and has "big sister" vibes. she's the one who actually goes out of her way to find clients for shiguang to help and hearing their clients' troubles, even when she had no idea how their abilities worked. she's the one who truly connected with tianxi and knew how to communicate with her — even better than cheng xiaoshi could, and cheng xiaoshi was the one who actually got to live as tianxi.

it's in her nature to care for others, but it's also her biggest flaw. much like lu guang, in her desire to keep cheng xiaoshi safe in her own way, she hides relevant information from him. and the act of secret keeping causes her to keep doing it out of guilt too — as we've seen in the doudou case. it's a very human trait to have.

it puts the earthquake arc in a new context. a young cheng xiaoshi went to qiao ling, distraught over the possibility that maybe his parents died in the earthquake. young qiao ling, wanting to comfort cheng xiaoshi but also knowing that her parents were advised that it's safer for cheng xiaoshi to not go to bridon, tells him that his parents are probably somewhere "far away" and wasn't caught in the earthquake. this isn't just words for the sake of comfort. she has reason to believe this is actually true.

she's in a tough spot when S3 rolls around, because she should, by then, know about cheng xiaoshi's death, if not possibly everything that happened in bridon (through tianxi's power/memory transfer). unlike lu guang, who is dead set on timelooping himself as a way to fix things, qiao ling is in a precarious spot.

should she honor aunt shao's wish and keep cheng xiaoshi safe, which she also wants? or should she tell cheng xiaoshi information he rightfully should know, thereby allowing him to exercise full agency over his own future, even if that future has the risk of death? and whatever she chooses will affect lu guang too. what is the wise thing to do here?

on that note, others have pointed out how this recontextualizes S1E1 cheng xiaoshi talking about his parents. looking back, it's insane to me that S1E1's opening scene (not the dive rules, the one after the op plays) has cheng xiaoshi saying, "I won't go anywhere until my parents come back. if you drive me away, I'll hang myself here! then your father will never get a new tenant."

(it's looking like whatever he learns in bridon won't carry over to the cheng xiaoshi of S1, but I digress)

he says this, and both lu guang and qiao ling are sitting there calling him a childish idiot, all the while harboring knowledge about his parents that cheng xiaoshi doesn't have. (lu guang also has the extra knowledge of cheng xiaoshi's death and what happened in bridon at this point probably, but this post is not about lu guang)

like... in S1 this could just be seen as a little "haha okay so this is exposition and this is their dynamic" scene but now... man. qiao ling knew all this time, in this scene, where his parents might be. she knew during the earthquake. she knew while they were renovating the shop.

I understand the reasons behind it, and in her eyes it probably was the wise thing to do. but when S3 comes around, should she still keep hiding it, like she did with the doudou case? when she confronts lu guang about his memories, what will she do?

I have hope that she'll bridge the two boys together. we saw how her strength has always been communication and delivering words. she is the person the clients look to. she is the person that gained tianxi's trust and knew how to meet her where she's at. she is the person who knows cheng xiaoshi and lu guang best.

here's hoping that she can overcome her guilt and desire to protect cheng xiaoshi from himself, and become the star of wisdom the show wants her to be

[the-lazyyy-artist]

i saw you in a dream a two-part Karasu Tabito x Filipina!reader story part one

Synopsis: The Japanese Occupation was far kinder than you expected, especially in his eyes.

Word Count: 19.1k

Content Warning: historical au (based in the Philippines), talks about the Japanese Occupation in the Philippines, glimpses of the events during World War 2, love despite the war, angst

Author's Notes: I tried to be as mild as I could with the information of the war, as well as the reader's situation. Based on my research, some families were exempted from the horrors. I tried to be as clear as possible with the story too, so if you have any notes after reading, please let me know thru the comments, reblogs, asks, or DMs! I would love to discuss things with you guys!

@fishii28 ✨

"We have to do this," your father iterated once more as he paced across the living room in anxiety, "It's for the safety of our family, Y/n, the safety of your sisters and your mother... most especially you. You're our eldest daughter, you have to understand."

"Compliance? For safety? How is that even a good thing, Papa? These Japanese are... massacring the country, our city! The best we can do is fight back!" You reasoned out, your voice raising in frustration. Of all people in the world, you would never expect your father to bend the knee to the colonizers. Sure, his allegiance is to the Americans, who also colonized your country after the Spanish did the same, but he held hope that they would be saved by them. For now, he has to think of the best way for his family to be safe, especially with the news going around about the abuses against women. He couldn't bear to live the rest of his life thinking that the women in his family would be facing the same fate as everyone, so compliance with the Japanese was the best option.

"My dearest, please. I don't want you to be..." he sniffled and lowered his head, then he cried in anguish. "I don't want to endanger all of you. The situation is hard, I understand that, but the best way for us to be safe is to side with them. Despite the crimes they're committing to our country and the people, we need to be safe. Think of yourself, Y/n. Think of your mother and your sisters. They're still so young." He walked towards you and pulled you into a hug, the tightest he had given you. "I love our country. You know that out of everyone. But right now, my love for my family overcomes that."

Two weeks later, a Japanese General, accompanied by his Lieutenant General, entered your home and had a written agreement with them, officially making your family untouchable from the atrocities of the war. You listened to their conversation from your room, peeking through the crack of your door. It was a surprise that the General had some English skills, which you then figured that maybe they had to learn for the invasion. From what you have gathered in their conversation, they have laid out some privileges for the family: you'll sustain your way of life and be exempted from the abuses, forced labor, and serve as entertainment for the soldiers.

That was good enough, you thought.

You then heard a cry from the other room. Your youngest sister's voice can be heard through the walls, and unfortunately, throughout the house. You saw the General and Lieutenant General perk up as soon as her cries spilled out. Your parents' bedroom door flew open, and out went your sister, crying for your father. "Maria!" You exclaimed, bursting out of your room to grab her before she could even reach the living room. You carried her in your arms despite her protests, but your eyes landed on the guests, specifically the Lieutenant General. He was about your age, a little stern at first glance. His blue eyes met yours, full of curiosity and a tinge of annoyance from the disturbance. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said as you walked away, carrying your crying sister back to your parents' room, closing the door behind you.

A few moments have passed, and you heard the bedroom door open, revealing your father, looking more distraught than he should be. He looked at you with apologetic eyes, and your stomach flipped at the sight. "What did you do, Papa?" you asked, your voice anxious and breaking.

"I'm sorry, my dearest. It had to be done."

Lieutenant General Karasu Tabito became a frequent visitor to your home. The reason? He became interested in you despite your short presence that day, thanks to your good-for-nothing sister. You're forced to face him every day with soft fake smiles that never reached your eyes. You try your best to be kind, at least just for the facade, so your family would be safer. You try your best to entertain his stories, all interesting and questionable. You try to respond accordingly, just as how your mother trained you all these years when the time comes for suitors to arrive at your doorstep.

Karasu was nothing but patient and kind, though sometimes, his eyes gave it away. He would sometimes look like he was analyzing you, the way you move, the way you speak, the way you laugh. Then one day, he said, "You're faking." That caught you a little off-guard. You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, pulling your skirt down your knees. "I beg your pardon?" you replied.

"I don't like the way you're faking your interactions with me."

Like any other person in this time of war, hearing that would feel like a death sentence, especially with the situation your family was in. You, acting like their sacrificial lamb to this Japanese soldier, and him, a wolf. You smiled at him and shook your head. "I don't think I understand."

"Y/n, I know you feel forced to talk to me almost every day. But I want to let you know that I'm not like anyone out there. I don't agree with what they're doing, and I would..."

"You would?"

"If there wasn't a war, things like taking an interest in knowing you better wouldn't be that hard. Because I want to know you more and take you as my wife," he continued, his eyes full of honesty.

It took a year before you agreed to marry him, which your father was more than enthusiastic about. For him, it meant that your alliance and complacency with the Japanese colonizers were now set in stone and that your family would be forever safe from the horrors you read from underground newspapers that often arrive on your doorstep. You made sure Karasu never found any of it every time he visited your home before the marriage.

Life with him was peaceful, or it seemed to be. You were away from all the noise, and Karasu ensured you would live as a married couple peacefully. Every morning, there was a routine of you two drinking coffee at the dining table, him reading the newspaper, Japanese issued ones, and you humming a tune. It was lovely. Sometimes, he'd hold your hand as he drinks his coffee, and you'd smile at him.

Mornings also included helping him into his uniform every time he's being called to the office, ironing it to perfection. You'd help him button up his shirt, then hand him his hat, sometimes dusting it off before you do. "I'll be back soon," Karasu would say with a smile, and you'd respond, "Take care."

Your afternoons are spent tending the garden and listening to the vinyl records your father gave you as a wedding gift. They were pretty old, and you played them anyway. You'd sway alone in the living room until you grew tired. Then it was time to prepare dinner for you and your husband.

He'd consistently arrive home at 6:00 PM, leaving his boots by the doorway before he walked to you as you worked in the kitchen. He'd give you a chaste kiss on your temple, whispering, "I'm home." You're always glad whenever he comes home because it means things haven't gotten worse yet.

One night after dinner, while you were washing the dishes, humming a tune you heard from one of your records, you heard Karasu rummage through the same shelf of records in your living room. You weren't concerned, no. It's just he never once had an interest in your collection, yet here he was. Then you heard him put on one of the records to the record player you had in your home.

"Y/n," he called out, his feet padded on the wooded floor of your shared home, "dance with me." You looked at him over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Just after this, Karasu."

He sighed as walked nearer to the sink where you were and turned off the faucet. You faced him with a slight disappointment on your features and he just smiled at you. He took a towel hanging from the drawer handles, and then wrapped your hands with it, drying them for you. "The dishes can wait. Please, dance with me." You could only nod and walk back with him to the living room as the scratchy music filled the living room. Karasu placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, beginning to sway with him. "We never danced before," he stated in which you hummed in reply. "I think the war hasn't let us, Karasu."

He shushed you softly as he shook his head. "No mentions of war in this home, Y/n. I told you that before, remember?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. No need to. I want us to live away from it, even if we have to pretend. Keep your mind away from it."

Karasu sighed shakily as he pulled you closer to him, embracing you. You can feel the tension radiating from him, so you rest your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Karasu, what's wrong?"

"You've been calling me Karasu for the longest time. Maybe it's time for you to call me Tabito," he said, his voice low, ignoring your question. You nodded and spoke his name. It felt new on your tongue, but it sounds much better now that you won't be calling his, and your, last name. Tabito rested his forehead against yours as you two were engulfed by the silence of the night and the hum of your record player.

It wasn't long until that peace slowly faded as Tabito would spend more time away from your home.

He came home with news of a possible battle, one that was inevitable. He told you in great detail what Japan would do to defend the Philippines from the Americans, and it would be bloody. You listened to him intently, holding his shaking hands. Tabito warned you of two outcomes: either they will lose and leave the country, or Japan will continue their reign over the islands. If you were asked right now, you don't know what to feel. If you were still 2 years younger, you'd feel overjoyed about the liberation of your country. However, now that you've come to know Tabito, and eventually, loved him more than you imagined, Japan losing would mean him leaving you behind.

The news of Japan's surrender broke you.

The sight of Tabito running to you and apologizing broke you.

"I know I never told you this in our whole marriage but remember that I love you. I loved every moment with you, and I would trade everything to be with you," he cried as he cupped your wet cheeks. "I love you, I love you, Y/n."

He left the next day along with the other Japanese troops, leaving you in your once-shared home.

It's such a shame, others would say, that your Japanese husband left you without a child. That you were left alone with hopes of him returning to get you. That after 3 years, you ended up lying on your deathbed.

That your last words before you closed your eyes were his name.

A second part of this story will be posted soon, so keep an eye!

[fairyminnie444]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

— 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘐 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧ ✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

𝓟𝓞𝓢𝓣𝓢 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

your subconscious is simpler than you think it is

you are NOT persisting if you are checking 3D and waiting for you DR!

you don’t try to manifest

Manifesting is instantly

how should I see the role of other people in my reality?

ENDING the cycle of main frequent doubts that arise in our minds once and for all

“At your command”

EIYPO explained for you to understand and absorb

do you sometimes have that feeling that you NEED TO DO SOMETHING/TAKE ACTION to receive what you want?

“BIG” manifestations

What’s the “secret”?

Why You Can Change Your Physical Appearance and Overcome the Limitations of Biology

Why Others’ Manifestations Can’t Block Yours

I already know everything!! How do I apply this to my routine?

The “Sabbath State”

Yes, it’s perfectly okayyyy if you forget or get distracted by your routine.

affirmations to make it easier and “faster”

the ultimate post u need to LET GO

understanding your EGO so you don’t let it hold you back anymore

how to feel your desire in a natural way even if it seems unlikely?

even a negative view of circumstances can lead you to a positive one

manifesting $100,000 is as easy as manifesting $1

you already understood that! you are already there!

𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤

manifesting is supposed to be fun, light and easy!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧ ✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

𝓐𝓢𝓚𝓢 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

i want to increase my height

what if my desires stay in imagination ans never externalize?

can we manifest multiple sps?

time travel

What if others also try to manifest my celebrity sp…

how do you/did you convince yourself that manifesting/LOA is real

dealing with the 3D when it comes to using LOA (living in the wish fulfilled)

doubts affect my manifesting?

How does one take a very famous person « off the pedestal » in order to manifest them?

I want to change my birth name but i have to sign documental stuff

How I could live in the end when revising smth that if materialized would totally change my live in the 3d?

SPEC method

will it still manifest what we want even if we don’t have a clear picture on it?

I need help with my imagination.

how do i know if it's just taking its time or if i'm doing something wrong?

Can you go deeper into days/weeks of the 3D not changing and how to persist throughout the whole day when you're doing things?

What are your thoughts about getting back people who have p@ssed away? REVISION

YT Channels (sub, meditations, mentors)

I want to manifest the absence of something I've been experiencing for a long time (health and wellness related).

work on my self concept / deal with people who criticize or make me feel drained

simple breakdown to help you manifest your SP even if it feels delusional right now

trying to manifest a modeling career

manifest changing appearance and dna, but i also want to change my past to always have been this appearance and my parents too

everytime i think something is "never going to happen" or "hmm i've never seen xyz" it ends up happening?!?!

How can I manifest when I absolutely don't believe that I can?

how can i use daydreaming and listening to songs while manifesting?

someone asked me about my sp. what should I do in this case?

why is consuming more information about this law considered to be coming from lack when doing something in the 3d that "opposes your desire" not considered to be coming from lack?

I have too many things to manifest so what should I do? advice to me in harsh way

struggle with is my celeb sp and my dream job

how would you manifest hectochromia eyes?

EIYPO everything like a puppet and me it’s master pulling the strings? Does it mean that “ancestors,” “angels,” etc. are not existent, only me?

Why Some Manifestations Work Effortlessly

advices for manifesting with mental disorders

can manifest such extreme beauty that everyone in a shopping mall turns to look at me. Even though I'm not the standard and I'm common

I’m manifesting a new face, but visualising it doesn’t make me feel anything?

how do i make sure that happens for certain? i'm scared it won't

What do you think about manifesting being immortal?

+ tips on manifesting a bf/significant other

struggling with feeling the feelings and believing that it’ll happen.

I can never manifest anything related to MONEY purely

date with the guy I like However, I am a very physically insecure girl and I am too scared and nervous.

i dont know what i did wrong, i really thought this would work, i was sure about it but it didn’t and i can’t helped but feel discouraged

I have a fear that some of my manifestation will dissapear

If everything we are seeing in the 3D is assumptions we made through our life, why does sometimes when we are like 100% sure of something and then we figured it is not?

was confident, my affirmation was "no matter how and what, i have all A's" but alas i did in fact not get all A's.

i WANT to see a people who actually manifested things that changed their past, their reality

i wanna manifest more lenient parents

I’m religious so I believe in a higher power/god, but I do still believe in my own power/ Will this hinder my manifestation process because I believe in a higher power?

What am I doing wrong? SP related

how can i.. like manifest or just "undo" it??

I want to manifest my natural hair color being blond, but i have black hair and also my parents, do i have to detail everyone in my family who is blonde for my new genes?

I feel like I can't anymore, that I'm giving in… I feel stuck

i’m really confused in the living in the end thing and others things in my manifestation

I simply want to be like those people who are successful in curing their illnesses

what do you recommend me doing to change my birth year while not ignoring the reality and still living in the end?

Can our negative thoughts manifest if we think them for a long time and then stop thinking them?

How to use chatpgt to clear doubts and manifest

Tips for beginners

why do some people's jokes manifest if they don't assume those jokes are true?

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧ ✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

[hisfavegirl]

Beneath The Crown - Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

Summary : You became more than just the daughter of Otto Hightower and the sister of Alicent—you became the woman who had captured the heart of Daemon Targaryen, the woman who would stand beside him in the face of the dangers and challenges that lay ahead. But love, especially one born of such fire and conflict, was never easy. The world around you was shifting, and as much as you wanted to embrace this new chapter of your life, you knew that the path ahead would be fraught with obstacles. Yet, in Daemon’s eyes, you saw a future that was worth the fight.

Daemon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

It had been a year since your father, Otto Hightower, had decided to send you to King’s Landing. A year after Alicent had settled into her new life as Queen, after all the adjustments and challenges had been faced and overcome. Now, it was your turn to step into the complex world of the royal court. But unlike your sister, you were not as eager to embrace it all.

You had learned to navigate the winding corridors of the Red Keep, and although there were many unfamiliar faces, you had grown accustomed to this new life. You were beautiful, much like your sister, with the signature appearance of House Hightower. The people had taken to calling you the “Gem of Oldtown,” a title that carried with it both praise and pressure. The men of the court, and even those from other noble houses, flocked to your father with offers of marriage, eager to make you their bride.

But Otto, ever calculated, rejected every offer. You were not just any woman; you were a pawn in a much larger game, and your father had bigger plans for you than a simple marriage. Every suitor, no matter their rank or wealth, was turned away. But with each rejection, you felt the weight of your father’s ambitions press heavier on your shoulders.

Still, despite the countless men who courted you, there was only one who caught your eye—Daemon Targaryen. The infamous Prince of the Targaryen family, whose reputation preceded him. Daemon, with his sharp wit, silver hair, and mischievous smirk, was different from the others. He was not like the polished, calculating men who sought to marry into power. There was something untamed about him, something that intrigued you.

Your encounters with him were brief—fleeting moments before he left for the Stepstones, where he waged war on the free cities. The two of you would exchange words in passing, but it was enough for you to notice the way his gaze lingered, the way his smile was both playful and knowing. It was a connection that felt electric, and each time he left, you found yourself thinking about him long after his departure.

But you knew better than to act on these feelings. Daemon was not a man you could trust in the way you could trust a suitor brought to you by your father. His world was one of violence, ambition, and danger. He was no mere pawn in Otto’s game. He was his own master.

Still, despite your better judgment, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. Every glance, every word exchanged between you, ignited something deep inside you, and you found yourself eager for the next brief encounter.

As you sat in your chamber, gazing out at the bustling streets of King’s Landing below, you couldn’t help but wonder what your future would look like. Would your father’s plans for you come to fruition, or would you carve your own path? And if you did, would Daemon Targaryen play any part in it? The possibilities seemed endless, but one thing was certain—your life was about to change in ways you could never have imagined.

The evening air was cool and fragrant as you walked through the gardens of the Red Keep. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the meticulously maintained greenery. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to your thoughts.

You had just spent the afternoon with Alicent in her chambers. She was glowing with the joy of motherhood, having recently given birth to her second child, a beautiful baby girl. The bond you shared with her had only grown stronger since your arrival, and it warmed your heart to see her so content. Yet, as you left her chambers and wandered into the gardens, a different set of emotions began to stir within you.

As you meandered through the winding paths, your eyes were drawn to a familiar figure standing beneath one of the ancient trees. His silver hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, glinting like polished metal. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly as if savoring the tranquility of the moment.

It was Daemon.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. It had been some time since you last saw him, and his sudden presence here felt almost surreal. You took a hesitant step forward, then another, until you were standing just a few paces away from him.

“You’ve returned,” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of surprise and warmth.

Daemon’s eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, he simply looked at you, as if making sure you were truly there. Then, a smile curved his lips, a smile that was both familiar and disarming.

“I have,” he replied, his voice smooth and calm. “It seems the Stepstones can do without me for a while.”

There was a glimmer in his eye, a spark that made your pulse quicken. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you held your composure. It was difficult not to be captivated by him, standing there so effortlessly commanding yet at peace.

“I trust your campaign was successful?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Daemon shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the weight of his accomplishments. “Success is a relative term. The battles are never truly over.”

His gaze remained fixed on you, intense and unyielding, as if he were trying to read your thoughts. There was a tension in the air between you, an unspoken understanding that neither of you dared to voice.

“And you?” he asked, his tone softening. “How have you fared in my absence?”

“I’ve been well,” you replied, though the words felt inadequate to convey the myriad of emotions you’d experienced since he left. “King’s Landing has its charms, though it can be… suffocating at times.”

Daemon nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can imagine. This place has a way of making one feel trapped.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the unspoken connection that had always lingered just beneath the surface. It was in these quiet moments that you felt most drawn to him, to the man behind the legend, the man who seemed to understand you in ways few others could.

As the last light of day faded into twilight, Daemon extended a hand toward you. Hesitant but curious, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Walk with me,” he said, his voice a gentle command.

You nodded, your heart racing as you fell into step beside him. Together, you strolled through the gardens, the world around you fading into the background. In that moment, it was just the two of you, bound by something deeper than words, something that neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.

The soft rustling of leaves accompanied the rhythmic sound of your footsteps as you walked alongside Daemon through the garden. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the cool breeze caressed your skin. The tranquility of the evening seemed to wrap around you both, creating a bubble of quiet intimacy.

After a few moments of silence, Daemon’s voice broke through the calm. “I hear your father has been turning down every marriage proposal that comes your way,” he said, his tone casual but laced with underlying tension.

You glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened slightly, a subtle sign of his discontent. You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Yes. He says he only wants what’s best for me.”

Daemon gave a short, humorless chuckle, his gaze fixed ahead. “Otto Hightower always does have a peculiar way of defining ‘what’s best.’”

You could sense the bitterness in his words, the disdain he held for your father. It was no secret that Daemon and Otto were often at odds, their ambitions clashing in the complex game of power that unfolded within the Red Keep. But beyond the political rivalry, there was a personal animosity that seemed to fester between them.

“I know how you feel about my father,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “And perhaps my sister as well.”

Daemon stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto yours. “It’s no secret that I don’t hold either of them in high regard. Your father… he sees you as a pawn, a piece to be moved on his chessboard. And your sister, well, she's too easily swayed by Otto’s manipulations.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “They are my family,” you replied, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. “I cannot simply turn my back on them.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “I don’t ask you to. But know this—your life is your own. You are not a piece to be played in their game.”

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into it, drawn to the warmth and sincerity in his eyes. In that moment, it was as if the weight of expectations, of duty and loyalty, fell away, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken connection that bound you.

“I wish things were simpler,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Simplicity is a rare luxury in our world. But perhaps… we can find moments of it, here and there.”

He stepped closer, his presence commanding yet comforting. “You deserve to choose your own path, to live for yourself and not for the ambitions of others.”

For a fleeting moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat and the intensity of Daemon’s gaze. In that space between words and actions, you felt a flicker of something more—something that both thrilled and terrified you.

“Walk with me a little longer,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a quiet plea.

Daemon nodded, offering his arm once more. As you resumed your stroll through the garden, the tension between you eased, replaced by a mutual understanding. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and choices that would shape your future. But for now, you took solace in the presence of the man beside you, and the shared moments of simplicity that seemed to defy the complexities of the world you lived in.

Your steps faltered as you and Daemon came to an abrupt halt. Standing before you, with his usual stoic expression, was your father. His gaze flickered briefly to where Daemon’s hand rested lightly on your arm before returning to your face.

“The King is waiting for you both in the council chamber,” Otto announced, his tone formal and devoid of warmth.

You exchanged a quick glance with Daemon, noting the subtle tightening of his jaw. His distaste for your father was evident, but he kept his composure, offering a small nod of acknowledgment.

The furrow in your brow deepened. It wasn’t unusual for the King to summon Daemon, but to include you in such a meeting was puzzling. What could King Viserys possibly need to discuss with you?

“Me?” you asked, unable to mask the surprise in your voice. “What does the King wish to speak with me about?”

Otto’s expression remained impassive, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “You will find out soon enough. It would be unwise to keep him waiting.”

With that, he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the Keep, expecting you both to follow. Daemon’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer, a silent gesture of reassurance, before he too began to move.

As you followed your father through the winding halls, your mind raced with questions. The Red Keep’s stone walls seemed colder, more imposing, as you approached the council chamber. The weight of the unknown settled heavily on your shoulders, each step bringing you closer to whatever fate awaited.

Daemon walked beside you, his expression a mask of calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. His presence, though steady, did little to quell the unease that coiled in your stomach.

Finally, you reached the great doors of the council chamber. Otto pushed them open, revealing the grand room beyond. At the head of the table sat King Viserys, his crown glinting in the dim light. His expression was kind, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that set your nerves on edge.

“Ah, there you are,” Viserys greeted, his gaze settling on both you and Daemon. “Please, come in.”

You stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Whatever this meeting was about, it was clear that it was significant. You could only hope that whatever the King had to say would bring clarity to the storm of uncertainties swirling around you.

Your breath caught in your throat as Viserys’ words echoed through the chamber. “I have annulled Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea. It is my wish that Daemon marry you, to solidify the bond between House Hightower and House Targaryen.”

The room seemed to tilt around you, the weight of his declaration pressing down on your chest. You stood frozen, your mind racing to comprehend the gravity of what had just been said. Daemon, your confidant, the man whose presence had always been a source of comfort and intrigue, was to become your husband.

You cast a glance toward your father, who stood silently at the side of the room, his face unreadable but his intent clear. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place—the countless suitors turned away, the meticulous grooming of your image, the careful orchestration of your future. He had been maneuvering toward this moment, toward securing an unbreakable tie between his lineage and the Targaryens.

Daemon remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable, though you sensed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise, or something else? His demeanor, however, was composed, as if he had anticipated this turn of events.

Viserys’ voice softened, attempting to alleviate the shock that he must have seen on your face. “I believe this union will bring strength and unity to both our houses. You are a remarkable young woman, and I can think of no better match for my brother.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, your thoughts a whirlwind. The idea of marrying Daemon, a man who had always held a complicated place in your heart, was daunting. Yet, the political implications, the expectations of your father, and the desires of the King left little room for refusal.

Finally, finding your voice, you lifted your eyes to meet Viserys’. “Your Grace,” you began, your voice steady but laced with uncertainty, “this is… a great honor. But I must admit, I am taken aback. I would need time to… adjust to such a change.”

Viserys nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Of course. This is a significant decision. Take the time you need.”

Otto, however, took a step forward, his tone firm but respectful. “Your Grace, my daughter has always understood her duty. She will do what is necessary for the good of the realm.”

You felt Daemon’s hand brush lightly against yours, a subtle gesture that brought you a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. His eyes met yours, a silent communication passing between you—one that spoke of understanding, of the shared burden now placed upon both your shoulders.

As the meeting concluded, you followed Daemon out of the chamber, the weight of your father’s ambitions and the King’s decree settling heavily upon you. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and choices that would shape not only your future but the fate of two great houses.

Leaving Daemon and your father behind at the doors of the council chamber, your steps carried you swiftly through the corridors of the Red Keep. The weight of the King’s decree pressed heavily on your mind, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty and emotion. You needed someone to confide in, someone who could offer you solace and understanding.

Reaching Alicent’s chambers, you knocked softly before pushing the door open. Inside, you found your sister seated before her mirror, brushing her auburn hair with a calm, methodical rhythm. She looked up at your reflection in the mirror, her brows knitting in concern as she noticed the tension in your posture.

“Sister,” Alicent greeted gently, setting her brush down and turning to face you fully. “What troubles you?”

You crossed the room, sitting on the edge of her bed, your hands nervously clasped in your lap. “Alicent,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “something… unexpected has happened.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out to take your hand, offering a comforting squeeze. “Tell me,” she urged, her voice warm and soothing.

Taking a deep breath, you recounted the events that had transpired in the council chamber—the King’s announcement of Daemon’s annulment, the proposed marriage between you and Daemon, and the realization that your father had orchestrated it all. Alicent listened intently, her eyes wide with surprise and concern as you spoke.

When you finished, there was a moment of silence as Alicent absorbed the weight of your words. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, her gaze filled with empathy. “I cannot believe he would do this without speaking to you first,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration. “Our father… he always has his plans, but this…”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening slightly under her understanding gaze. “I don’t know what to do, Alicent. Daemon… he’s always been… complicated. And now, to marry him?”

Alicent leaned closer, her hand still holding yours. “Daemon is many things, but he cares for you. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you. This may not be what you wanted, but perhaps… it could be something good.”

Her words were meant to comfort, to offer a glimmer of hope in a situation that felt overwhelming. You appreciated her kindness, but the uncertainty remained, a constant hum at the back of your mind.

“I need time to think,” you whispered, your gaze dropping to your lap.

Alicent nodded, her hand resting on your shoulder in a gesture of support. “Take the time you need. And remember, you don’t have to face this alone. I’m here for you, always.”

Her reassurance brought a small smile to your lips, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the storm. For now, you had a decision to make—a decision that would shape the course of your life and the future of your house.

A month had passed since King Viserys’ announcement of your betrothal to Daemon, and the court was abuzz with whispers wherever you went. Every step you took seemed to draw the attention of nobles and servants alike, their eyes following you, their voices low with speculation. Despite the scrutiny, there was a surprising shift within you—a growing affection for Daemon that you hadn’t anticipated.

At first, your interactions were formal, marked by the awkwardness of an arranged match. But gradually, the walls between you began to crumble. It started with simple gestures—Daemon inviting you to ride Caraxes together, the exhilarating flight through the skies creating a bond that only the shared thrill of dragon-riding could forge.

The first time you soared on Caraxes, you were both terrified and exhilarated. Daemon’s reassuring presence behind you, his hands steadying you as the wind whipped around you, made you feel invincible. As the dragon dipped and soared, you felt a freedom that you hadn’t known you craved.

When you weren’t in the skies, Daemon often suggested horseback rides through the lush countryside surrounding King’s Landing. These rides were your favorite moments—just the two of you, away from the prying eyes and endless expectations. Daemon’s wit and charm surfaced during these quiet times, revealing a man who was not just the fierce warrior and unpredictable prince but also someone capable of tenderness and understanding.

It was during one of these rides that you realized how much you enjoyed his company. As the sun set over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the fields, you felt a sense of peace and contentment in his presence. Daemon, ever perceptive, noticed your smile and leaned over, his voice soft and teasing. “You seem happy,” he observed, his violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that surprised even you. “I am,” you admitted, feeling the truth of your words settle over you like a comforting cloak.

Daemon reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I want you to be happy, truly.”

The simplicity of his words struck a chord within you, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope that this union might be more than a mere arrangement. It might be the beginning of something deeper, something genuine.

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you grew stronger. Daemon’s presence became a constant in your life, his unpredictable nature tempered by a growing affection that mirrored your own. In his company, you felt seen, understood, and valued—a feeling that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

Despite the whispers and the ever-watchful eyes of the court, you found solace in the knowledge that, in Daemon, you had a partner who cared for you beyond the obligations of duty. And as you prepared for the next chapter of your life, the possibility of love no longer seemed like a distant dream but a burgeoning reality.

The preparations for your wedding were a constant buzz throughout King’s Landing, with every noble and servant whispering about the grandeur and significance of the upcoming union. As the younger sister of Queen Alicent and betrothed to Prince Daemon, your wedding was set to be one of the most spectacular events the realm had ever seen.

Alicent, ever the meticulous planner, took it upon herself to ensure that every detail was perfect. From the lavish decorations to the feast that would rival any in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, she left no stone unturned. But her most fervent attention was on your wedding attire.

You often found yourself being whisked away by Alicent to the royal seamstresses, where you were fitted for the most exquisite gown you had ever seen. The gown was a masterpiece, a stunning blend of white, gold, and silver threads intricately woven together. Each color held deep significance: white symbolized purity and new beginnings, gold represented House Hightower’s wealth and prestige, and silver reflected the Targaryen blood that now coursed through your veins by your impending marriage to Daemon.

Alicent watched every fitting with a critical eye, ensuring that the gown was nothing short of perfection. She would adjust the drape of the fabric, examine the embroidery, and insist on the finest embellishments. “This is not just a wedding,” she reminded you, her tone both stern and loving. “It’s a statement. A union of two great houses, and it must be reflected in every detail.”

Despite her stern demeanor, you could see the genuine care behind her efforts. She wanted you to shine, to be the epitome of grace and beauty as you walked down the aisle. You appreciated her efforts, even when the endless fittings became tiresome.

One afternoon, as you stood on the dais, the seamstresses bustling around you, Alicent approached with a soft smile. She adjusted a stray strand of hair from your face and said, “You’ll be the most beautiful bride the realm has ever seen.”

Her words, filled with sisterly pride and affection, warmed your heart. You reached out, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you, Alicent. For everything.”

Alicent squeezed your hand gently, her gaze filled with a mix of pride and wistfulness. “You deserve this happiness,” she whispered. “And I will ensure that you have it.”

As the days drew closer to the wedding, the anticipation grew. The palace buzzed with excitement, and you found yourself looking forward to the day not just as a duty, but as a promise of a new beginning. The whispers and glances no longer bothered you; they were the murmurs of a realm eager to witness the union of two powerful houses.

And in the midst of it all, Daemon’s presence remained your constant. His occasional smirks and whispered comments during the preparations reminded you that, beyond the pomp and ceremony, this wedding was about the two of you—a bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The day had arrived faster than you could have anticipated. As the morning sun bathed King’s Landing in a golden glow, the realization that you would soon be wed to Daemon filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement. The grand ceremony was set to take place in the Throne Room, a choice Daemon had insisted upon, refusing to set foot in the Great Sept.

In your chambers, a flurry of activity surrounded you. The seamstresses and handmaidens worked meticulously, ensuring every detail of your gown was flawless. The luxurious fabric shimmered as the light hit the intricate embroidery, each thread of white, gold, and silver representing the unification of your house with Daemon’s.

You stood before the mirror, taking in your reflection. The gown hugged your form perfectly, the delicate embroidery accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled elegantly, adorned with a few subtle, yet exquisite, pieces of jewelry. Despite the whirlwind of preparations, there was a calmness in the air, a sense of purpose that steadied your nerves.

As you adjusted the last piece of your attire, the door creaked open, and Alicent stepped into the room. Her gaze swept over you, a soft smile gracing her lips as she approached. “You look radiant,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride.

You turned to face her fully, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Thank you, Alicent. I’m… nervous, but excited.”

Alicent reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s natural to feel that way. But remember, this is your day, and you are ready for it.”

She moved closer, adjusting a strand of your hair before pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Daemon is a complex man, but I can see how he looks at you. There is something real there. Trust in that.”

Her words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that amidst the grandeur of the ceremony and the expectations of the realm, the union was ultimately about the bond between you and Daemon. You nodded, drawing strength from her encouragement.

As she pulled back, Alicent gave you a final once-over, ensuring every detail was perfect. “It’s time,” she said softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—pride, hope, and perhaps a touch of wistfulness for the journey you were about to embark on.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves. The moment you had been preparing for was here. With a final glance in the mirror, you straightened your shoulders and turned toward the door, ready to step into the next chapter of your life.

As you made your way to the Throne Room, the weight of the moment settled over you, but so did a sense of anticipation. The doors would soon open, revealing Daemon waiting for you, and with him, a future that promised both challenges and possibilities.

The grand doors to the Throne Room swung open, and you walked forward, your heart pounding with each step. Your father, Otto, stood by your side, his presence unwavering as you made your way down the long, imposing aisle. Every eye in the room was on you, the whispers of nobles and courtiers filling the air, but you hardly noticed. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle—Daemon.

His figure was regal, standing tall in his formal attire, his gaze locked on you as you approached. The way he looked at you, intense and unwavering, made your heart race. The noise of the room seemed to fade as you drew closer, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Your thoughts blurred together, and all that remained was the certainty that you were about to marry the man you had come to care for so deeply.

As you reached the altar and stood beside him, the whispers died down, leaving only the echo of your footsteps in the vast hall. Daemon’s presence beside you was steadying, though his usual air of confidence seemed tempered by something else. He looked at you with a mixture of affection and quiet anticipation.

His voice, a low whisper, reached your ear, ensuring no one else could hear his words. “You are more beautiful than I imagined,” Daemon murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt your cheeks flush, your heart fluttering with both excitement and the hint of nerves. You tried to steady yourself, but Daemon’s words lingered in your mind, calming your restless thoughts.

As the ceremony began, you focused on him, the man who would soon be your husband. There was no more doubt, no more uncertainty. With Daemon, you had found a place where you truly belonged.

The ceremony began, the High Septon’s voice echoing through the Throne Room as he led you through the ancient vows. Each word spoken brought you closer to the moment where you would be bound to Daemon, not just by the will of your families, but by your own choice.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby see you these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

"Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his/hers, and s/he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days."

As you exchanged vows, Daemon’s eyes never left yours, his hand gripping yours with a firmness that spoke of his resolve. When it came time for the rings, he slipped the band onto your finger with a gentle touch, sealing your bond with a promise.

Daemon turned toward you, his eyes alight with something deeper than the ceremony could capture. “You are mine now,” he whispered, as if sealing the promise that had been made not just in front of the court, but in the quiet moments between you two.

As the High Septon’s final words echoed through the Throne Room, declaring you and Daemon husband and wife, the tension that had hung in the air all evening melted away. The weight of tradition, the whispers of the court, and the eyes of the realm were no longer on you. The only thing that mattered was the man standing beside you.

Daemon’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with emotion. Without hesitation, he reached for you, his hand sliding around your waist as he drew you closer. The silence in the room felt heavy, the world outside of the two of you vanishing entirely.

He didn’t need to say a word. His lips found yours in an urgent, possessive kiss. It was everything you had imagined, and more. His kiss was a promise, a culmination of everything that had led you both to this moment. It was fierce and tender at once, as if he had been waiting for this kiss for a lifetime, just as you had.

You kissed him back, feeling the strength of his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. In that moment, you understood. He had waited for you, respected your decision, your wish to wait until you were truly married. And now, as his wife, you could feel the intensity of his feelings, his affection for you pouring through the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Daemon’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His eyes were filled with a mixture of passion and affection, his smile slow and genuine.

“You are mine now, fully and completely,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest. In his arms, everything felt right, as if the world had finally come into alignment. The decision to marry him, to give him your heart and soul, was no longer just an obligation. It was a choice, a choice you were proud to make.

Daemon smiled again, leaning in to kiss you once more, sealing the promises that had been made not only in front of the court but in your hearts. This was the beginning of your life together, and nothing could tear it apart.

You sighed, your breath heavy with the effort of trying to keep up with Aemond’s quick strides. Your growing belly made every step a challenge, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you down more each day. Frustration bubbled up as you called out his name, your voice tinged with irritation. “Aemond, wait!”

He turned back for a moment, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, but he continued walking, not slowing his pace. You groaned and came to a stop, placing a hand on your back as you tried to catch your breath. Behind you, the sound of soft laughter drew your attention.

Alicent approached with a warm smile, her hands reaching out to support you. “Come, let’s take it slow,” she said gently, her arm wrapping around yours to offer balance. She guided you through the garden, the fragrance of blooming flowers surrounding you as the sun cast a warm glow over the Red Keep.

“You’ve been cooped up too much,” Alicent remarked softly. “Daemon’s protective nature has grown even more intense.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He won’t even let me walk to visit you. He insists you come to us.”

Alicent chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s just worried about you, about both of you.”

The thought of Daemon’s constant concern made your heart swell. His protectiveness was both endearing and suffocating. You understood his fears, especially after everything the two of you had been through. But sometimes, you longed for the simple pleasures of walking through the gardens or sitting in the courtyard, feeling the breeze against your skin.

“Thank you for coming to me,” you said, squeezing Alicent’s hand. “I know it’s not easy, being the queen and all.”

Alicent smiled warmly. “Family comes first. Always.”

You leaned into her support, grateful for her presence. The garden was peaceful, a small escape from the confines of your chambers. As the two of you walked slowly, your mind drifted to thoughts of Daemon. Despite his overprotectiveness, you knew it came from a place of love. The thought of him made you feel safe, cherished.

“Do you think he’ll ever let me out on my own again?” you asked with a teasing smile.

Alicent laughed softly. “Perhaps after the baby is born. Until then, I’ll make sure you have company.” She glanced ahead, where Aemond was waiting by a fountain, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. “And perhaps I can convince your dear nephew to slow down next time.”

You both shared a laugh as you continued your slow walk through the garden, the bond between you and Alicent strengthening with every step.

Your peaceful walk came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Daemon’s voice, firm and laced with concern. “Why aren’t you resting in our chambers?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, a hint of worry in his eyes.

Before you could respond, Alicent stepped in, her tone calm and reassuring. “She needed some fresh air, Daemon. Being cooped up isn’t good for her.”

Daemon, however, wasn’t convinced. His eyes softened as they met yours, but his protective instincts were clear. “Fresh air or not, she needs rest,” he replied, his voice gentler now but still resolute.

In a swift motion, he closed the distance between you, scooping you up into his arms with ease. The suddenness of his action made you gasp, but the warmth of his embrace was comforting. “Daemon,” you protested lightly, “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “But I’d rather carry you.”

Alicent stood nearby, shaking her head with a soft smile. “You’ve become quite the overprotective husband, Daemon.”

He glanced at her briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I have every reason to be.”

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His protectiveness, though overwhelming at times, was a testament to his deep care for you. Despite the exasperation you sometimes felt, you couldn’t deny the comfort his presence brought.

As Daemon carried you back toward your chambers, you allowed yourself to relax in his arms, the worries of the day melting away. Alicent followed behind, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding. She knew the depth of Daemon’s love for you, and though it bordered on overbearing, it was also undeniable.

Once inside, Daemon gently placed you on the bed, ensuring you were comfortable before sitting beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. “I just want you safe,” he whispered.

“I know,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “And I appreciate it. But a little fresh air won’t hurt.”

He chuckled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But next time, let me join you.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

Alicent watched the exchange with a knowing smile, excusing herself to give you both privacy. As she left, she couldn’t help but admire the love between you and Daemon—a love fierce, protective, and deeply devoted.

The quiet of the room was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire, casting a warm glow over the chamber. You lay reclined on the bed, the weight of your growing belly a comforting reminder of the life you and Daemon had created together. Beside you, Daemon knelt, his hand resting gently on your stomach, his touch tender and reverent.

A small flutter beneath his palm made both of you pause. His eyes widened with wonder as he felt the movement of your child. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your belly. His voice, low and filled with affection, murmured words meant only for the little one within.

“You’re already so strong,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like your mother.”

Your fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the silver strands with a gentle caress. The sight of him, so devoted and tender, filled your heart with a warmth that words could scarcely convey. His rough exterior seemed to melt away in these moments, leaving behind a man deeply in love, not only with you but with the family you were building together.

As he continued to murmur softly to the baby, you couldn’t help but smile. His hands, so often associated with swordsmanship and strength, now held a tenderness reserved only for you and the child you carried.

“Daemon,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took your breath away.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “To be loved by you.”

His expression softened further, and he rose slightly to meet your gaze, his hand still resting protectively on your belly. “You’re not the only lucky one,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve given me a reason to be better, to love more fiercely than I ever thought possible.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The love between you was palpable, a bond that had only grown stronger with the impending arrival of your child.

As the evening wore on, the two of you remained in that quiet intimacy, sharing whispered dreams of the future. The weight of your love and the promise of the life you were creating together filled the room, wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and hope.

Tag list : @danytar @zaldritzosrose @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[doodler16]

Today I found another reason why Vivziepop's hierarchy in hell chart doesn't make sense - and that are the Hybrids, but only because she put Hellborn above Imps and Hellhounds. If someone is, for example, a mix between Succubus and Imp, in what category of the Hell hierarchy chart are they put? Are they a Hellborn or an even lower Imp, because if they would only be categorized as someone lower than Hellborn then wouldn't the non-imp parent feel bad about their kid? If that were the case, would couples from Hellborn ever have kids with their Imp or Hellhound partner? If, however, their offspring gets just put in the Hellborn category, wouldn't every Imp-parent want their kids to marry up? However, if this was a well-thought-out caste-system the upper class would never allow the lowest ones to "marry up", so to speak. They would want to keep the lower classes, because they are the ones who profit out of them. You could also allow only a select few to move up if they fit certain criteria and the rest would count as Imp or Hellhound. We also had a small glimpse into this specifically with Hellhounds, when we saw Blitzo adopt Loona. Loona is a more wolf-like Hellhound, meanwhile we saw in the orphanage mostly dog-like ones, same at Bee's party. To get from wolf to dog though, you have to breed them for specific characteristics, for specific purposes. All of this is a form of eugenics, and we certainly could have a story about this and how you could overcome or overthrow it, if any of this was properly implemented, but it's not.

This is why Vivziepop should’ve put more thought regarding the hell hiearchy because their problems such as hybrids and letting other deadly sins like Bee date a hellhound (the lowest class) and no one questions it. But when it’s Stolas and Blitzø, everyone and their mother points it out.

The hell hierarchy is so messy especially since more episodes have come out and confusing once you think about it more. Yeah, shouldn’t hellborns be the same or similar category as imps because imps are technically hellborn too since Satan created them in his image.

[ray935sworld]

Child of divorce

Chapter 5: Italian delusions

Whole AU

"You can't actually be serious" Dani said as he stared at Vale. It had been 3 years now since the accusation and everything started. Dani had assumed he had heard everything now but this - this was something he couldn't accept. He refused to accept it.

"No, no. No. I'm sure of it." the Italian said. "You're - Vale, you accused my husband of having slept with Marc." he said in a serious tone.

He was very serious about everything that happened. He remembered seeing the public accusations against Jorge and feeling how his breath was stuck in his throat for a second.

He didn't believe it. He trusted Jorge blindly. He knew he would never do anything to destroy them and what they had no matter how much self sabotaging and insecurity of Jorge they had to face at the begging.

Years of a love, a child and a marriage had made Dani know Jorge inside and out. So he was confident to say that whatever the article was referring to was a lie.

Not even for a second he had considered it a real possibility, but reading the love of your life allegedly slept with someone else was still a pang to the heart.

It was gone after seeing Jorge panicking sprinting down to him and immediately bursting out "I swear I have never and will never sleep with Marc. Or any Marquez. Or any other man. Or woman. Or person in general! I have never and will never sleep with anyone except you! My husband! Who I love dearly and completly and so much that it makes me look like an idiot"

"It is not my fault you look like an idiot." he shot back with a rich laugh. "Your taste in fashion is doing that on its own already" he watched Jorge's shoulder fall in relief before he leaned down and kissed him "I love you" "Love you too, sweetheart"

Dani bit his lip as he stared at the Italian. He really much wanted to punch the older man. But he had to get to the bottom of this. All of this had stopped making sense the moment he found Marc with tears in his eyes infront of his motorhome sobbing that Vale had left him.

Him and David.

That was the moment Dani had lost the train of thoughts of the Italian completely. He had heard that the two were hitting a rough path. But Dani and Jorge had passed through so many by now that overcoming the pressure a championship battle bought seemed minor.

That was until Marc was a crying mess in his arms, sobbing about Vale calling David a bastard. And then the public accusation followed. Everything just seemed to be getting worst.

He had wanted to give Vale a piece of his mind back then. He was ready to rip him a new one and he would have - But it was Marc, pleading and crying not to confront Vale. Claiming it would just make everything worse, Dani had taken himself back. But now Vale was dragging Jorge - his husband, his family - into this. And that was enough to not stand by any longer.

So now they were here.

"You accused the father of my child to have betrayed me and our baby." Dani stated plainly. "You risked taking my sons father away. You are publicly accusing him of all this. Are you even slightly aware what panic you caused him? You damn well know that the public isn't excatly nice to him, you asshole. So why are you throwing him unnecessary to the wolf?"

He watched Vale gather his thoughts, clearly taking everything in. It took him a few seconds. But eventually he took a deep sign. He looked at the younger rider with a very serious expression.

"Dani, you are very dear to me. I appreciate our friendship and I am sorry that he keeps lying to you. They should be honest with us and just confess-" "I swear to God I will break your nose if you keep spilling that crap" "It's not crap!" "It is!"

Dani felt a little bit like he was arguing with his son. Except even Pedro could understand and see reason.

"Listen, Vale-" Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. He told himself. He needed to get to the bottom of this. "Why do you think David is not your biological son?"

"I- Fucking hell, Dani! Come on, you're one of the smart ones! Don't tell me you can't see it?" "Explain it to me." "Well first off, he was acting weird. Like this whole fucking time! And he was always hanging around you, Jorge, Dovizioso. Especially after a podium and stuff. He was way too close and touchy. Oh and with the Espargabros! Especially that Pol guy. They definitely had something going on."

Dani internally praid that whatever God was the right one would give him enough strength to this conversation.

"So you are telling me - a rookie and then newly crowned, pregant baby champion, that had a kid at 20 with literally his childhood hero, all while continuing to keep being on top in literally one of the most elite and dangerous sports in the world, was not acting like any other normal, rational human being? Because everyone else of us is 'normal'?"

He stared at him, hoping that the indicatory in his voice were everything Vale needed to realize what the younger Spaniard was trying to point to.

An excited nod later, Dani had to discover that he couldn't be more wrong.

"And because he was enjoying some time with his coworkers and making jokes, hugging them - he definitely slept with them?" "Yes! See?! Now you get it."

He stared at Vale, trying to remember that Jorge had made it a strict point to raise Pedro without violence. And he was sure that even if Pedro wasn't present right now, his husband would include smashing someone's head against a table in that statement.

"Okay, look-" he said, taking out a few pictures. He had to change tactics. He had hoped that he didn't had to use but well. "That's Pedro when he was 4 years old." "Very cute" "Thank you. David is around the same ago now."

He put another picture on the table only for Vale to scoff and take it in his hand. He turned it around and put it down. The picture of David, smiling happily in the camera was now facing the table, impossible for them to see.

Dani started at the gesture for a second then took the next photo out. "That's Jorge when he was 5. As you can see, he and Pedro look very similar-" He turned David's picture around, this time keeping his hand on it, to make sure Vale couldn't avoid facing his son even if it was just on paper.

"But Jorge and David look nothing a like. There are no similarities. No shared features. He looks completly different because they don't have matching DNA. Because they are not related."

"I am sure Marquez has whored enough around that he maybe even sure himself who the father is." "Now you're just straight up being rude." he shot back. "You don't know what to say so you're being an asshole to cover it up."

Before he could get another word in, he laid out the next and last picture. This time it was one of Luca. He was looking directly at the camera, his head slightly tilted, seemingly confused. He couldn't be older than 4. Vale seemed surprised but then rolled his eyes.

"Just - Look. Your own brother has so much similarities to David. The same smile. The same freaking head shape. And eyes and nose. Both have the same face. Just like you! Now look at them and tell me you really can't see the connection!"

Vale bit his lips. He looked from one picture to the other. For the first time since everything went down he looked at David. He looked at the boy properly. It was a picture only taken recently, David at 4 years old, playing in a parc. He was smiling, laughing.

Luca had taken the picture on one of their adventures together.

Vale stared at David for a long moment. Then he looked at the picture of Luca. Vale had taken the picture on one of adventures together when he had taken his brother to the local playground.

"You're right" he silently agreed and for a moment Dani was sure he was mistaken. "They do look a like. I - Of course. It explains so much-"

His voice was picking up.

"Why Luca was so distance after 2015. Why he kept going back to that asshole and the little bastard - He is David's father!" he exclaimed and with no hesitation as if he had spoken a widely known fact.

"The fuck you just said?" Dani asked, wondering if he just had a stroke or something.

"Look at the similarities! Just like you said! Luca is his father!" "Luca - Your -" He really didn't even know what to say to that. And hearing Jorge spill the most crazy thoughts ever since they've known each other made him think he had already heard everything.

"You're aware that Luca was just over 16 when David was conceived. Right?!" "Yes! So he was easy to manipulate. Poor boy and now he is stuck as a father to-"

And with that, Vale had managed to do what Jorge until now had failed to do. He found Dani's breaking point. The point where he lost his cool and was running out of patience at once.

Around half an hour later, Jorge got a call. He smiled when he read Dani's contact name and the picture to it. It was Dani, sitting in their garden with a newborn Pedro in his arm, grinning in the camera.

"Hola mi corazon" Jorge said, his voice filled with joy. "Where are you? Our little baby is-" "AM NOT A BABY!" he heard Pedro yell from what sounded like the other end of their home.

"YOU WILL ALWAYS BE OUR LITTLE BABY!" Jorge yelled back. He heard a huffing sound, that could either mean begrudging acceptance or frustration. But since their kid wisely chose not to continue arguing, he returned to the call with Dani.

"Anyway, OUR LITTLE BABY-! is missing his papa and I'm missing my husband. Where are you?" he asked. "I miss you too. I'm sorry but I will need some more time"

"Promise me not to freak out-" But this was never a good sign. "What did you do?" he asked. The anxiety in his voice clear as day. "I'm in the hospital but-" His heart sank for a moment. He didn't like it one bit when someone said that Dani was in the hospital.

"What? Why?" Of course he knew that PR events could take longer and he wasn't even angry. After all it wasn't Dani's fault

And if someone was willing to get away from the media as soon as possible, it was him.

He never did.

Not even when they were young and reckless and idiots that didn't understand what their feeling were really like and the world was telling them to be someone they weren't.

But now -

Now Jorge was remembering that it was Dani calling. Not someone from his team or the FIM. It was Dani. He was talking. He was alright. So Jorge could use some humor.

"AGIAN?! Dani, what did you do this time? You're supposed to stay ON the bike!" he chuckled. Somewhere along the way they had discovered that joking about some things made the worries ease.

"Which hospital? We're on our way!" he asked nonetheless. In his mind he was already packing some bags, getting Pedro ready and then trying not to break every speed limit.

"Okay first off - ouch. There was no need for that 'again', alright?! Secondly... I'm not the patient. It's Vale" "Rossi? Why?" A short silence followed and Jorge grinned. If Dani hesitant to tell something, he meant a good story. So he was sure that whatever he would hear next would be pure gold of his husband got shy over it at first.

"Because... Someone..." he started slowly. "May has broken his noise." "Someone?" he asked grinning. "Yes... Someone." "And how did someone even manage to reach his nose? As far as I'm aware you'd need a chair for that"

A fake shocked gasp came from the other side of the line and Jorge just knew he would get a soft punch against his shoulder if they were face to face right now. He would watch Dani's face try to portray betray and hurt all while a smile would be cracking through until he was laughing, clearly unable to contain his giggles about his joke.

After all these years, Dani was still laughing about his bad jokes.

"You know what?! Why did I even marry you?!" he shot back and really, there was only one answer. "Because you love me?" "Naaaah" Dani said and Jorge couldn't help but laugh, knowing it was just them joking around, teasing and nagging each other like they always did.

"It's cause you got me pregnant. Knocked me up first try" he reminisced. "And now I have to deal with a hyperactive 7 year old that's missing his papa." Jorge argued back. "So whose really the victim?"

"Aweeee, poor you... Tell Pedro I love him. Give him a big kiss from me." He nodded. He would have done it anyway but he knew Dani had to say it. His voice had turned softer again, both knowing they were about to hang up.

"And who gives ME a kiss from you?" he asked playful. "I don't know. Be nice and you'll get one later." "I'll count on that." he whispered and closed his eyes. He wanted to imagine he was there with him.

"I promise to be back as soon as possible." "I know. As always." "Mmm.... I love you, Jorge" "I love you more."

Later on, Dani had told Marc about their conversation. At first the older one hadn't been sure if it might just stirr him up for nothing, but on the other hand, if anyone should be aware of how far gone he still was - it was Marc.

And he had sat there and listened. He had nodded along, trying to hide his hurt, shock visible as he heard Vale's newest theory. He was used to a lot from his ex, but this was a new high.

A wave of protection overcame him when he heard it. He couldn't overcome how easily he had been able to accuse his own brother of a betrayal like that. "Luca would never hurt Vale intentionally! Fucking hell, even when he disappointed him the most, he was still trying to help him and understand him! And he accuses him of something like that?!" he argued back, Dani nodding in agreement.

He wasn't even angry that he got accused of manipulating a minor to sleep with him, even if it was one of the most disgusting things he had ever heard. But the bar of things he'd assumed Vale would deam the truth was low.

Still, the conversation kept lingering in his mind. Even now that Luca was spending the day was them. It was one of the slow weekends during the break where he could spent all day with David. And the Italian had decided to visit to spent some time with his favorite nephew. He was his only, but Marc still smiled about it.

He wished he could smile about it now, but with Luca present, he wondered how if he had made a mistake years ago.

"You know - sometimes I regret that I gave in as quickly as I did..." Marc said as he leaned against the wall behind them.

Luca turned to him slightly. He saw the way his empty glance had returned to his face. He was still looking at the track, watching Alex chase after David to make sure the little Marquez was safe.

But it seemed like he wasn't seeing him properly. Like he saw something else. Or someone else.

"I mean... I know why I didn't." he said, more talking to himself than to the boy. "It's just that sometimes when I see David like this, I wonder what it would be like if he was here"

Luca nodded. He knew he was talking about his brother, David's father.

"It's mostly little things. We had made a promise to never let David ride unless one of us is there. And now Alex and you sometimes take him to the track without me and I wondered if Vale - the Vale that still got his mind in the right place - would be angry that I break the promise."

"I think he'd understand. The old Vale would understand." Luca replied. He felt the aif freeze for a moment. There was no reaction. Maybe he shouldn't have answered and just kept it a monolog.

"You really believe that?" Marc asked, his voive softer than expected. "Yes." "And you think he's still there? Somewhere... Deep under all the shit he's talking?" It sounded more like mockery, maybe voluntarily, maybe not.

"Yes" Luca repeated. His voice dripping with false confidence. He wanted to believe it. He really did. But it was hard when the reality was so different.

"I don't know who but someone really got in his head." he argued quickly. It had been Frankys idea. That Vale was being manipulated. The boys came up with it after someone said that Vale might be projecting. That he had been the one cheating on Marc and turned it around to not be blamed.

But Luca and the academy knew Vale. They knew how much in love he was with Marc. So manipulation seemed the only way.

"They still are. He's still being manipulated. Probably. But if we find out who-" "Luca, stop" the Spaniard quickly interrupted. His voice was sharp and on point, making it clear, he wasn't messing around. "I am glad you still have hope, but I don't. I have a son to take care of. I can't afford getting thrown off by Vale. And getting my heart broken all over again. I need to be there for David"

"I know... I... I'm sorry" "No. You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I was so sure he'd get around and sometimes, in moments like this, I wonder what my life would be like if he did. And David's life."

He sighed deeply and remembered how everything had changed. He remembered bearing the accusation for the first time, seeing the news filled with it. He remembered every fight and confrontation. And he realized how much less it actually were than he had thought.

"Sometimes I wondered if I could have convinced him if I just had tried." he admitted. "I never even took him to court over anything. I didn't want to force him to anything. No child support. Nothing. Not even giving up his legal rights to David even if he pushed him away... I didn't even ask him for a paternity test"

He laughed. It was such a stupid realisation that he felt childish for not even having considered it sooner.

"Why didn't I? Really... It... It could have solved everything. It would have gave him the truth, black on white. A scientific prove that he is David's father... But no! I was so stupid and caught up in everything I couldn't think straight. And now it's too late. I don't even know if I want him to make one."

He bit his lips, wondering if it would be to much and what it would even mean.

"Maybe just to see the shock on his face when he realized that he had been saying all this crap about his own kid... But I don't think I'd be able to take him away from him if he actually comes to his sanity... So then I would have to deal with... Well everything. I should have just ask him to do the stupid test...."

He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts again. It was then that he saw the Italian next to him. He was awkward shifting from one feet to the other and avoiding his eyes. There was a guilty look on Lucas face.

"Luca?" he asked "Why do you look like that?" "What? I - No. Nothing. I-" "Luca why do you look like that? What did you do?" he asked and if his voice switched to his parent scolding voice like it did when he had to scold Dabifd, then what?

"Why do you have the same guilty look in your face like when you wanted to help Alex cut his hair and gave him a bald stripe." "Okay first off, that wasn't my fault! I was shaving his neck and he suddenly looked up and basically shoved his hair in the razer" "Then what did you do now?" he demanded.

There was once more a second of silence. Marc looking at Luca, staring him down. Luca trying not to break but at the end giving in with a sigh.

"I... When 2015 happened... I asked Alex to sent me a DNA sample from David. I sent that and one of my own to a DNA lab in Italy. I chose Italy to avoid Vale using his Spanish conspiracy theory and... I got the result and obviously it said that we are related with the expected DNA match percentage for the kid of someone's half sibling."

Slowly Marc's eyes went wide. He understood what Luca was saying before he finished the sentence. They had essentially done a paternity test. But if they did it - where was Vale? And why? If he had the result?

"I showed it to Vale and I thought it would make him understand and reconsider... You know that it was just an emotional out of the moment frustration. I mean - people do extrem things when they loose and - okay that is above all excusesable - I just wanted to prove to him that he is wrong"

"I guess it went wrong?" he asked quietly.

"He didn't believe me. He said the test must be fake." "The test was fake? According to him?" "Yeah..." He just nodded.

The awkward silence return and he knew that Luca felt guilty - again. Again without reason. Again over his brothers action. Marc felt sorry for him. He was so young and had to step up to deal with his older brothers madness and try to ease it. He tried it day after day.

"Well, at least I could save the money for a paternity test." he said jokingly. "And the trouble of dealing with it. Sorry you had to do it"

Luca just shrugged. He was obviously thinking about whatever happend between the brothers when they had the conversation.

Marc tried to imagine. He tried to think of anything that Vale could have said but noen really made sense because in Marc's mind it was impossible to deny while for Vale it was the only logical response.

Luca bit his lips, remembering how he went to Vale that day. He was holding the brief tight in his hand like it was treasure when he saw his brother sitting on the couch.

He had explained him everything. Vale showed no reaction the whole time. His face was guarded and neutral. He let Luca talk, solely because Luca was his brother. Everyone else would have gotten interrupted and thrown out 2 sentence in.

But he let him talk. He took the letter, read it, understood it and let Luca explain if some more.

Luca was mid sentence when Vale suddenly hugged him. "I am so sorry" he had whispered with honestly in his voice. "Luca, I.... I don't know what to say" "It's okay" the younger one had replied with a grin.

"We can figure it out. If you apologize to Marc and the media, maybe we can be a family again. I'm sure they'll understand and-" "No, Luca. Don't you get it? They used you." he said, his voice sad.

Sad for his brother.

"What?"

"They - oh fucking hell. I'm so sorry, Luca. I really am" he said again and pushed his hand through his hair as he eyed the letter again. The scientific prove that he had fathered the child he cursed a bastard.

"I would have never expected them to actually drag you in this as well. Luca, they used you. The test is fake. They are trying to put you against me"

"What? No! No! I made the test! It's real. It really is!" "It's not. Come on, buddy. You're not a kid anymore. You don't really think that... This is true? You think I'm lying? Do you really think I - I - would abandoned my own child?"

Luca had looked up at him. Their eyes met. The hurt in Vale's eyes, just at the thought of it was clear, more clear than any cristal. It was so evident that Luca couldn't help but shake his head. It was than that the older brother had wrapped him up in another hug.

He was remembering it when Marc reached for him again. He just couldn't help it when seeing the younger one like this.

He pulled him in a side hug and stood on his tip toes to give him a short kiss on the cheek. He was family and Marc wouldn't let his family suffer in silence and drown in their own thoughts. He would stand by them and do whatever he could.

And now it seemed like the only thing he could do was giving Luca the comfort only an older brother could provide. But without the hidden burning hate, Vale still had. Without the lingering anger. Without the hole that Vale had caused in his baby's brother heart when he showed the boy he raised what he was really capable of.

Because yes - Luca believed Vale. He believed he would never abandon his own child. After all Vale had been like a 3rd parent to him. He knew what it was like to be raised by Vale. He knew Vale had always sworn to be a good parent one day.

But now he was the opposite. He had abandoned his son and a part of Luca refuses to accept that. He couldn't believed his brother would be able to do that, that his delusion ran as deep as that.

But the facts were proof enough. It wasn't Vale, standing on the side of a dirt track watching David. It wasn't Vale that was there with them, taking time off and using one of their rare breaks to look after a child.

It was Luca who had been there for Marc, Alex and David. Not Vale. Not anymore. And maybe never again.

[antianakin]

I don't personally think he'd be any worse than anyone else. Mostly because, as you sort-of mention at the bottom, the true problem is not and never has been the Jedi who teaches him, but Palpatine's intervention in his Jedi training. You could literally put Anakin with any Jedi as his master and the result would be exactly the same. None of them would be uniquely better or worse for Anakin because none of them are able to completely eliminate Palpatine's influence. This is why I made the joke post that arguably the ONLY Jedi who could possibly be "better" for Anakin than anyone else was Jon Antilles, a comic-only character who routinely seems to disappear on missions and be presumed dead for months or years before he just randomly pops up again and spends most of his time AWAY from the Temple. This would likely effectively stop Palpatine from being able to gain access to Anakin easily, but not through any actual effort on Jon Antilles's part.

But also, your argument that what happened in the Council room would impact him negatively would still remain true with ANY OTHER JEDI MASTER to some degree. "If I'm NOT the Chosen One, then everyone fought for me or made exceptions for me for nothing." That remains true even if Qui-Gon himself isn't his Master. You can obviously argue that it'd be something that would impact his relationship with Obi-Wan, it would've impacted a relationship with Mace or Yoda or Plo Koon or Ki-Adi-Mundi.

So, you know, yes, obviously Palpatine has things he can use to fuck up Anakin's relationship with Qui-Gon, places where he can seed doubt, but he'd be able to do that with just about ANYONE who'd ended up Anakin's master, there's absolutely nothing uniquely awful about Qui-Gon or his relationship with Anakin that would make him worse for Anakin than someone like Obi-Wan or Mace or Yoda or Ki-Adi-Mundi or Plo Koon, ALL OF WHOM are involved in this series of events and so have much the same history for Palpatine to pull on. Even if he lands with someone uninvolved in the entire affair like Kit Fisto or Shaak Ti, there are going to be things that Palpatine can use to seed doubt, regardless of the lack of relative "history" they have with Anakin.

But remove Palpatine from the equation. Let's assume that TPM still goes generally as in canon, but somehow Palpatine is just... not an issue anymore for Anakin and Qui-Gon lives to take on Anakin. This leaves us with the question of whether Qui-Gon's belief in the prophecy and in Anakin's place within it would negatively impact his relationship with Anakin to the point that it's significantly worse than if Anakin were with anyone else. And I don't personally believe that it would. Qui-Gon DOES believe in it, but he brings it up only when he feels like he HAS to in order to convince the Council to let Anakin be trained and to ask Obi-Wan to take up this mission in Qui-Gon's place, both places where he's clearly desperate and running out of options. This doesn't indicate, to me, that Qui-Gon would constantly be bringing it up to Anakin or even necessarily that he'd allow it to just... fester in their relationship or impact how he treated Anakin.

Anakin himself likely WOULD have some thoughts about it, some doubts about whether he can live up to it or not, worries about Qui-Gon's belief in him, but that is arguably no worse than what he's got with Obi-Wan, who demonstrably DIDN'T believe in the prophecy and agreed more with the Council that he was dangerous. Obi-Wan's LACK of belief would create just as many doubts and uncertainties as Qui-Gon's faith. I don't think one is necessarily innately better or worse in this situation. And if Palpatine is entirely out of the equation, I think Qui-Gon is perfectly capable of helping Anakin overcome some of those doubts and uncertainties with Jedi teachings, the same way he's clearly helped Obi-Wan work through many of his own (Obi-Wan's shock and anger at the events in the Council chamber lead him to react a little rashly and lash out at Qui-Gon a little, but he does ultimately manage to calm himself enough to understand where Qui-Gon was coming from and apologize, an ability he likely gained FROM QUI-GON'S TEACHINGS). Many people, myself included, have pointed out that Anakin was likely entirely capable of learning to apply Jedi teachings to himself if Palpatine hadn't interfered, and I believe that that's no less true with Qui-Gon than it is with Obi-Wan or anyone else.

I've seen the argument that Qui-Gon would've been a bad master for Anakin because he would've been so obsessed with the prophecy that he never would've let Anakin be his own person outside of it and this would've put undue pressure on Anakin as he grew up. But this just doesn't make any sense to me given what we see of him and what we know of him.

Qui-Gon brings up the prophecy all of TWICE in TPM: when the Council rejects Anakin for training, and when he's dying and asking Obi-Wan to train Anakin. He doesn't even harp on it all that much when he DOES bring it up. He says it once when the Council give their decision and then immediately moves to a different tactic when he can tell this isn't going to sway them. He doesn't keep trying to convince them of why the chosen one is important or anything.

And both of these instances are explicitly done out of a desire to ensure Anakin GETS training. Once Anakin is already being trained, there isn't necessarily any indication that Qui-Gon would feel the need to keep bringing it up or pressuring Anakin with that knowledge. Yes, Anakin would know Qui-Gon believes it, but he knows that in canon, too, and he knows Obi-Wan knows about it and that his choice to train Anakin was done in large part because of Qui-Gon's own belief. So I don't know that I believe that Anakin would feel all that much additional pressure under Qui-Gon's tutelage than he does in canon under Obi-Wan's.

Qui-Gon is also just not a particularly chatty person by nature, it seems. He seems like someone who listens more than he speaks and holds back until he feels like it's worth it to say something. We often see him only say as much as he thinks NEEDS to be said and no more (the best example of this is in his conversations with Obi-Wan on Tatooine where he seems to hang up mid-conversation more often than he doesn't). Half the time when he speaks, it's because someone spoke to him FIRST and he's responding or answering a question.

So it just doesn't seem particularly in character for Qui-Gon to be constantly discussing the prophecy or bringing it up to Anakin. He seems like someone more inclined to simply let Anakin come to his own conclusions about the possibility of being the chosen one and what that means to him rather than enforcing his own perspective on Anakin. This could cause Anakin to jump to conclusions that cause problems down the line, but he jumps to conclusions in canon that cause plenty of their own problems anyway, so I don't think Anakin's situation would be all that much better or worse with Qui-Gon than it was with Obi-Wan.

[loki-us]

Just like Thor was changed by Jane, Loki was forever changed by Mobius

[pinnithin]

enver gortash fascinates me from the perspective of his relationship with the dark urge because like, as far as i know his alliance with them is one of the very few he didn’t actively despise. the guy was sold into slavery by his own parents (who tried to justify it by saying their child was a hateful monster and anyone would have done the same) and spent his formative years employed by a devil who gets off on gratuitous levels of suffering and manipulation. and then once he's escaped that and built himself up so he can never be used and enslaved again he meets this bhaalspawn who also had to adapt and survive a violent and manipulative environment for years by becoming the monsters who raised them.

gortash sees how the dark urge has risen to command armies and slaughter hundreds in the same way he outfoxed raphael and ruthlessly controls the people in his employ, and after earning and owning his reputation as a tyrant heres another person who might actually have like, a shared lived experience. not exactly a friend, because people like them can't afford to have friends, but someone who at least understands. and he willingly works with them on this plan to enslave the sword coast and agrees to share power with them.

and then orin lobotomizes them, puts a tadpole in their head, and leaves them for dead at moonrise.

like, can you imagine. youre working with the first person you see eye to eye with and prooooobably arent plotting to actively sabotage (or, at least would hesitate to do so) and the rug just gets yanked out from under them by their own sister, and now you're stuck with her because the plan still has to move along. and as the days go by a group of adventurers start to screw up your plot right when baldur's gate is within your grasp, and you learn that among them is your old almost-friend who you actually liked and respected - and they have no memory of you whatsoever. oh, and on top of that they're rolling with people you've actively fucked over and want to kick your ass.

did it hurt for him to learn this? did he ever think about how things could have been different? did he think, you were supposed to be my ally, my friend, someone who actually understands that becoming a monster is the only way to keep yourself safe and in control. we were going to rule together. and now you're ride or die with this squad of people you've only known for a few weeks at best, and you want me dead. you don't even remember me. you don't even remember yourself.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[mortysmith]

Fuck you season five episode nine genuinely some of the worst shit they clobbered together

[tiny-planet-13]

you know what's absolutely fucked (besides my inability to say a single sentence without cursing) is that I think that somehow, however improbable or disgusting this truth is, riko's abuse is at least half the reason why jean is still alive right now. (please bear with me) and I mean still alive as in the reason why he hasn't killed himself yet rather than someone else doing it.

idk quite how to explain but like, we can acknowledge that the nest and the ravens was a cult, right? and it's quite obvious that the ravens have been essentially brainwashed in their own ways into believing that the whole situation is normal and that's just how life has to be for them to achieve their goals and dreams in the future. but they don't know about the extent of the abuse that riko was inflicting on Kevin and jean and also Neil for his brief stay. (whether they had suspicions is besides the point because I suppose if it didn't affect their futures then there was no reason to care)

so the fact that a lot of the ravens end up killing themselves after the nest has been dismantled in tsc is almost entirely because of the brainwashing and the reliance they had on that awful structure.

however

as we see in tsc jean is also battling with trying to adjust to normality again, but the fact that he is actively trying says everything. sure, he's angry at everyone and makes empty threats and all the rest of it, but the fact remains that he is still willing to embrace change and learn and reluctantly heal. especially once he's with the Trojans, we don't really see jean deliberately working against what is being offered to him. sure, he makes mistakes and he gets angry and he struggles to cope BUT!! I don't think he's doing any of that intentionally because of course he's going to slip up on occasion. you don't just live in a hideous abusive situation for 5 years and then magically escape from it unscathed.

(I promise I'm actually getting to my point soon I'm sorry)

the reason he can go on and try and understand that killing himself isn't an option is because he knew that what happened to him in the nest was wrong and bad and evil. and whilst he still says things like he deserved it, I don't think that overshadows his understanding that it was still wrong. so whilst the other ravens had all accepted that this cult was the correct way for them to get what they wanted, horrifically enough I think riko's abuse is what kept jean aware that it wasn't normal.

so in some backhanded absolutely twisted and sick way I think the difference between jean and the rest of the ravens (particularly those who killed themselves) is that the abuse was so real and tangible to jean that it shattered any reliance he could ever truly have on the nest and is at least in part the reason why him killing himself on the phone to Kevin would never be as plausible as him finally clinging to an opportunity and trying to heal..

[insane-weasel]

I think as writers we should hold funerals for our WIPs more often.

Dearly beloved, gather us here today where this fic of some middle-aged man getting rawdogged and this other fanfic about the importance of friendship are laid to rest, because the author got really distracted playing that new video game.

We celebrate what could have been, cut-and-recycle those really good lines or ideas, because I swear I'm going to use them, I swear! And drag this poor document not to the great recycling bin or trash, but to the "graveyard" folder because sometimes I like to commune with the dead.

[astrxealis]

dear gods i adore horror tbh but i am way too sensitive to it

[seaofsplitpeace]

Every fucking queer love story I consume completely ruins me