#will i go even more in depth in the future

[aestariiwilderness]

My times are in Your hand - Psalm 31:15 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. - Matthew 10:29-31 ‘For in Him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are His offspring.’ - Acts 17:28 Psalm 139:13-16 For You formed my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. / I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Marvelous are Your works, and I know this very well. / My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in secret, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. ... Isaiah 64:8 But now, O LORD, You are our Father; we are the clay, and You are the potter; we are all the work of Your hand.

Psalm 39:5 You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing before You. Truly each man at his best exists as but a breath. Selah Isaiah 51:12 “I, even I, am He who comforts you. Why should you be afraid of mortal man, of a son of man who withers like grass?

Isaiah 40:6-8 A voice says, “Cry out!” And I asked, “What should I cry out?” “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field. / The grass withers and the flowers fall when the breath of the LORD blows on them; indeed, the people are grass. / The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.”

Isaiah 41:10 Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will surely help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

Joshua 1:9 Have I not commanded you to be strong and courageous? Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Romans 8:37-39 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Job 9:12 If He were to snatch away, who could restrain Him? Who could say to Him, ‘What are You doing?’ John 10:29-30 My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.

"That wouldn't be fatal!" It would."They couldn't survive that!" They could.

If my time as an EMT and instructor taught me anything it is that the body is both impossibly resilient and impossibly fragile, and almost any traumatic injury you can think of could either be fine or fatal depending on the whims of the universe.

So use that crap as liberally as you want to serve whatever narrative you're writing.

[hisfavegirl]

Endless Devotion- Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : Though the kingdom’s future was always at the forefront, it was the love between you and Daemon that would defy fate, a love that transcended the barriers of duty. The day you were born, the future had already been written for you, and yet, you and Daemon would challenge it with every breath you took, every moment you shared.

Daemon Masterlist.

You were the third child of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, born on a stormy night that claimed the lives of your mother and twin brother. The Maesters had whispered of your slim chances, but somehow, you survived—a fragile yet fierce reminder of the strength that ran in your blood.

Growing up, you were cherished by your father, Baelon, and doted on by your older brothers, Viserys and Daemon. The bond between the three of you was unbreakable, though it was clear that each of your brothers saw you in very different lights.

Viserys was gentle, the older brother who would read to you by the fire or braid your hair as you told him stories of your dreams. He had a natural inclination to protect you, a role he embraced as the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Daemon, however, was something else entirely. His affection was fierce, his attention constant. He was protective, yes, but also possessive. There was a sharp edge to his love for you, a depth that seemed to go beyond the bonds of mere siblings. Where others might have dismissed it as Daemon’s usual intensity, you could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his hand lingered on yours a moment too long, and the way his mood darkened whenever you spoke of marriage or suitors.

As you grew older, you noticed how Daemon’s attention never wavered. He always found excuses to be near you, whether it was accompanying you on dragon rides or sitting too close during family feasts. His words were often veiled with deeper meanings, and his actions spoke volumes he didn’t dare to put into words.

You loved both your brothers dearly, but with Daemon, there was an undeniable tension, a connection that made your heart race even when you wished it wouldn’t. You often found yourself questioning the nature of his affections and, more troublingly, your own.

As the years passed and the politics of the realm began to weigh on your family, Viserys took his place as heir to the Iron Throne, and Daemon’s restless spirit grew more pronounced. But no matter how far he roamed or how much chaos he caused, his attention always returned to you.

You couldn’t deny the warmth his presence brought or the way his protective nature made you feel safe, even as whispers in the court began to stir about the true nature of Prince Daemon’s feelings for his beloved sister.

The Throne room was heavy with tension as you stood beside Daemon, the newly crowned King Viserys sitting on the Iron Throne before you. His calm demeanor belied the storm brewing in the room. You glanced at your older brother, your heart heavy with uncertainty.

Viserys’s voice was steady, but there was a finality in his tone. “It is time to secure the future of our house, for the good of the realm. Daemon, you will marry Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone. The Vale is a strong ally, and this union will solidify our ties with them.”

Daemon stiffened beside you, his hands curling into fists. He shot Viserys a glare so intense it could have melted steel. “You expect me to marry her? A woman I have never met, with a temperament as cold as the mountains she comes from?” His voice was sharp, his disdain evident.

Viserys ignored his outburst and turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you, my sweet sister. Lord Jason Lannister has expressed interest in taking you as his wife. A match with the Westerlands will bring great strength and wealth to our house.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the weight of Daemon’s gaze shift to you. His anger now burned hotter, directed at your eldest brother. “A Lannister? You would send her to Casterly Rock, to be a trophy for that pompous lion?” His voice grew louder, echoing through the hall.

Viserys’s expression hardened. “This is not a debate, Daemon. These matches are for the good of the realm, not for personal desires.”

“You mean your desires,” Daemon snapped, stepping forward, his anger barely restrained. “You sit on that throne and play the dutiful king, but you forget who we are. She is a Targaryen, not some pawn to be traded for gold and swords!”

You placed a hand on Daemon’s arm, trying to calm him, but his fury was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. “Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please.”

He turned to you, his face softening for a moment as he saw the uncertainty in your eyes. But when he looked back at Viserys, his rage reignited.

“If you think I will stand by and let this happen, you are mistaken,” Daemon growled, his voice low but menacing. “I will not let her be taken from me.”

Viserys rose from the throne, his patience thinning. “You will obey, Daemon. Both of you will. This is my decree as your king.”

Daemon’s lips curled into a bitter smile, his voice dripping with venom. “Then perhaps I am no longer fit to be your brother, if all I am to you is a sword to wield and a pawn to marry off.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall, leaving you standing there, torn between your loyalty to your eldest brother and the fiery love and devotion of the younger.

Viserys sighed heavily, his face a mixture of frustration and sadness. “He will come to understand, in time,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself more than you.

You stood your ground, your heart pounding as you faced Viserys, who had returned to his seat on the Iron Throne. His expression remained stern, but you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he regarded you.

“Brother,” you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within you. “You must reconsider this decision. Daemon is not someone who will take this lightly, and you know it.”

Viserys exhaled sharply, leaning back against the cold iron of his throne. “You think I don’t understand Daemon? I’ve been dealing with his impulsiveness and defiance all my life. He will learn to obey, as we all must for the good of the realm.”

You stepped closer, your gaze unwavering. “You may think you understand him, but you do not see what I see. Daemon will not accept this. He will do whatever it takes to undo what you’ve decreed, and you know as well as I do that his methods are… dangerous.”

Viserys frowned, his fingers drumming against the armrest. “And what would you have me do, sister? Set aside what is best for the realm because of his temper? Because of his… feelings for you?”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you hesitated. “This isn’t just about his feelings for me,” you said softly. “This is about preventing a fracture in our family—one that may be impossible to mend. Daemon’s anger is like a wildfire, and once it begins, it will burn everything in its path. Including you, including me… including the realm.”

Viserys looked at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You think I enjoy this? That I take pleasure in making decisions that hurt those I love? I must think of the greater good.”

“Then think of the consequences, Viserys,” you pressed. “Think of what Daemon might do. He is loyal to his family, yes, but his loyalty to me is stronger than any bond you could force upon him with a marriage to Rhea Royce. And if you send me to Casterly Rock… you will lose him. Completely.”

Viserys rubbed his temple, weariness etched into his features. “Daemon must learn to control himself, and so must you. I cannot rule with my heart alone, sister.”

“You must rule with wisdom,” you countered. “And wisdom means understanding the consequences of your actions. I am begging you, Viserys. Think this through before it is too late.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you. Viserys seemed to weigh your words carefully, his gaze searching yours for answers. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy.

“I will consider it,” he said, though the exhaustion in his tone betrayed his uncertainty. “But know this, sister—whatever happens, I will do what I believe is best for House Targaryen.”

You nodded, though your heart remained heavy with doubt. As you left the throne room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over—and that Daemon’s reaction to all of this would shape your family’s future in ways none of you could yet foresee.

You made your way to the training grounds, where the sound of clashing steel and labored breathing filled the air. Your eyes immediately found Daemon, his silver hair damp with sweat as he ruthlessly swung his sword at a weary guard. The poor man could barely keep up, his shield trembling under the relentless force of Daemon’s strikes.

“Daemon!” you called out, your voice cutting through the din.

He didn’t stop. His sword continued its brutal arc, forcing the guard back until the man stumbled and fell to one knee. You took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Daemon, that’s enough!”

Still, he ignored you, his focus fixed on his opponent. The guard, clearly terrified, raised his hands in surrender, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Daemon sneered but finally lowered his sword, stepping back as the man scrambled to his feet and fled the training yard.

Daemon turned to face you, his expression cold and furious, his chest heaving. His violet eyes burned with anger, though whether it was directed at you or someone else, you couldn’t tell.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “Go back to Viserys if you’re here to plead his case.”

You stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m not here for Viserys. I’m here for you.”

He scoffed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “What do you want, sister? To tell me to fall in line? To bow to his commands like a dutiful dog?”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I’m here because I know you. I know how angry you are, and I know what you’re capable of when you feel cornered.”

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Then you should also know that I won’t sit by while he takes everything from me.”

“You think this is about taking from you?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Daemon, this isn’t just about us. This is about the realm, about alliances, about keeping peace.”

He turned back to you, his eyes blazing. “To hell with the realm! To hell with alliances and peace! You are my sister, my blood, and I will not stand by while he gives you to some Lannister!”

“Daemon,” you said softly, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t want this any more than you do. But if you do something reckless, if you act out of anger, it will only make things worse. For both of us.”

For a moment, his anger faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently. “I cannot lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I won’t.”

You placed your hand over his, your heart aching at the desperation in his words. “You won’t lose me, Daemon. But we have to be smart about this. We can’t fight Viserys on this—not like this.”

His gaze searched yours, his anger giving way to a deep, simmering frustration. Finally, he sighed and stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.

“Then tell me what to do,” he said, his voice quieter now but still tinged with defiance. “Tell me how to fix this without losing you.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. But one thing was clear—you would have to tread carefully if you wanted to protect both Daemon and yourself from the storm brewing around you.

You grabbed Daemon’s hand, pulling him forcefully away from the training yard. He resisted slightly, his voice sharp with frustration.

“Where are we going?” he demanded, his tone laced with irritation.

You didn’t answer, your grip tightening as you led him through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. He huffed behind you but didn’t pull away, his curiosity piqued by your determination.

Finally, you arrived at the council chambers where Viserys was still seated, reviewing documents and speaking with an advisor. He looked up as the door swung open, surprise flashing across his face as he saw you enter with Daemon in tow.

“Leave us,” you commanded, your voice steady and firm.

Viserys frowned but waved his advisor away. The room emptied quickly, leaving the three of you alone. He set his quill down and folded his hands, his expression expectant. “What is the meaning of this?”

You stepped forward, releasing Daemon’s hand but keeping him close by your side.

“You call yourself a king of fairness and justice,” you began, your voice steady but tinged with anger. “Yet you would take from us the right you claimed for yourself.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair. “And what right is that?”

“The right to marry the one you love,” you said sharply. “You chose Aemma, a woman you cared for deeply, despite the fact that the match was orchestrated by our grandfather. You didn’t resist it, not because it was your duty, but because it was what you wanted. And now you sit here, dictating our futures without a care for what we want.”

Viserys’s gaze hardened. “It is my duty as king to secure alliances for House Targaryen. Aemma was a choice that benefited the realm, as are these marriages I’ve proposed.”

Daemon stepped forward, his voice low and laced with anger. “Aemma was no mere alliance to you. She was your love, your comfort. Do not twist the truth to suit your decisions now, brother.”

You glanced at Daemon, grateful for his support, before turning your focus back to Viserys. “We are not pawns to be moved on your board, Viserys. We are your family. Your blood. Do not expect us to accept this without question.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “And what would you have me do? Allow you to marry whomever you please, damn the consequences for our house?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “If it was acceptable for you, why not for us? Do you fear that granting us the same freedom will make you appear weak? Or do you fear that we will make choices that do not align with your vision of the future?”

For a moment, the room fell silent, the tension between the three of you palpable. Viserys stared at you, his expression unreadable, before his gaze shifted to Daemon, who was watching him with barely concealed disdain.

Finally, Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “You speak boldly, sister, but you fail to understand the weight of a crown. The realm demands sacrifices, and those sacrifices often begin with us.”

Daemon scoffed, his tone biting. “Spare us the lecture, brother. You made your sacrifices with Aemma, but they were sacrifices you were willing to make. Do not expect the same from us when you refuse to acknowledge our desires.”

Viserys hesitated, the weight of your words clearly affecting him. He looked at you again, his gaze softer now, though still conflicted. “And what do you propose, sister? That I abandon my plans entirely?”

“I propose that you listen,” you replied, stepping closer. “Listen to us, to what we want, and find a solution that benefits everyone. You owe us that much, at least.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but strained. “I will consider it,” he said finally, though his tone lacked certainty.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was enough for now. You turned to leave, Daemon following close behind, his steps heavy with frustration.

“Do you truly think he’ll change his mind?” Daemon asked as you walked down the corridor.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But I had to try. For both our sakes.”

He was silent for a moment, then reached out to gently squeeze your hand. “If he doesn’t, I’ll find another way. I won’t let him take you from me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you said nothing, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you as you continued walking together through the shadowed halls of the Red Keep.

You and Daemon walked together through the halls of the Red Keep, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. The weight of your conversation with Viserys bore down on your shoulders, leaving you feeling drained and uncertain.

You glanced at Daemon, his expression unreadable as he walked beside you. Though his face betrayed little, you knew him well enough to sense the storm of emotions brewing within him.

“I love him, you know,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavered slightly, but you kept your gaze forward.

Daemon stopped walking, forcing you to halt as well. He turned to face you, his silver hair catching the faint light from the torches lining the walls.

“I know,” he replied, his tone low but steady. “You’ve always loved Viserys. Just as you’ve always loved me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart tightening at the truth of his words. “But it’s not the same,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened, the anger and frustration from earlier giving way to something deeper—something raw and vulnerable.

“I’ve always known that too,” he said, stepping closer to you. “And I’ve never cared. Because I know you, just as you know me. You don’t want to lose him, but you’re terrified of losing me.”

You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to lose either of you,” you whispered.

Daemon reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before taking your hand firmly in his. “You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what happens. Viserys can scheme and command all he likes, but I will not let him separate us.”

His words sent a wave of relief through you, though the fear still lingered. You knew how determined Viserys could be, and you knew the lengths Daemon would go to defy him.

“You promise?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I promise,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar hint of mischief. “Even if I have to burn the realm to the ground, I will not lose you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, his words both comforting and unsettling. But that was Daemon—wild, unpredictable, and fiercely loyal to those he loved.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you said, squeezing his hand.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “With Viserys as king, it just might.”

The two of you resumed walking, the tension between you eased but not entirely gone. You didn’t know what the future held, but as long as Daemon was by your side, you felt a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty.

Two days had passed since your conversation with Viserys, and in those two days, the weight of his decision loomed over you like a storm cloud. Despite the pressure, you and Daemon continued to find solace in each other, meeting in secret within your chambers or his, navigating the hidden paths of Maegor’s Holdfast with the ease of familiarity.

This morning, however, was different. A summons had come from Viserys, commanding both you and Daemon to meet him in the council chamber. The air was heavy with anticipation as you and Daemon walked side by side through the Red Keep, the silence between you filled with unspoken thoughts.

When you entered the chamber, Viserys was already seated at the head of the table. His expression was stern but not unkind, and you noticed a hint of weariness in his eyes. The room was empty save for the three of you, the absence of the councilors adding to the tension.

Viserys gestured for you both to approach, and as you stepped forward, he sighed deeply, his hands resting on the arms of his chair.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “And I’ve come to a decision.”

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I was wrong to try to dictate your futures without considering your wishes,” Viserys admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You were right, sister. I made my choice with Aemma, and it was a choice I was fortunate to have. You and Daemon deserve the same.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I’ve informed House Lannister and House Royce that the arrangements have been canceled,” Viserys continued, his tone firm. “You will marry each other, as you both clearly desire. I only hope this decision brings you happiness and strengthens our house.”

Daemon let out a quiet laugh, the sound laced with relief and triumph. “You’ve finally seen reason, brother,” he said, his smirk unmistakable.

Viserys shot him a pointed look but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back to you, his expression softening further. “I only ask one thing of you both,” he said.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do not let your love for each other blind you to the responsibilities you bear as members of House Targaryen,” he said. “The realm looks to us for guidance, for strength. Be each other’s strength, but never forget the weight of the crown.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you, Viserys. I promise we will honor our house and our family.”

Daemon’s hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring. “You have my word as well, brother,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Viserys smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Then it is settled. The preparations will begin at once.”

As you and Daemon left the chamber, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of hope and relief, the weight of uncertainty lifted from your shoulders.

Daemon turned to you, his smirk returning as he leaned closer. “It seems the gods favor us after all,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed softly, your heart light for the first time in what felt like forever. “Perhaps they do,” you replied, your hand tightening around his.

As the two of you walked through the halls together, you couldn’t help but feel that this was the beginning of something extraordinary—a union born not of duty, but of love and unyielding loyalty.

You laughed uncontrollably as Daemon suddenly lifted you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

“Daemon! Put me down this instant!” you demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting, as you squirmed in his grip.

He only chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. “Not a chance, sweet sister. A betrothal like ours deserves to be celebrated.”

“Celebrated? By making a spectacle of me?” you shot back, still laughing as he carried you with effortless confidence.

“Precisely,” he replied smugly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Daemon strode confidently to where his horse was waiting. Setting you down briefly, he helped you into the saddle before mounting behind you, his arms resting comfortably around your waist as he took the reins.

“And where exactly are we going?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“To the Dragonpit,” Daemon replied, urging the horse forward.

“The Dragonpit?” you repeated, your curiosity piqued.

He grinned, leaning closer to your ear. “Caraxes and Maraxes deserve to know about our betrothal, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of your dragon, Maraxes, and Daemon’s Caraxes. The two dragons had always shared a bond, much like their riders.

The ride through the bustling streets of King’s Landing was exhilarating, Daemon’s confidence radiating behind you. His presence was as steady as the rhythm of the horse’s hooves, and you found yourself leaning into him slightly, the excitement of the moment overtaking your initial protests.

When you arrived at the Dragonpit, the cavernous structure loomed before you, filled with the faint echoes of dragon growls. Daemon dismounted first, his hands quick to help you down.

Inside, the air was thick with heat and the unmistakable energy of dragons. You immediately spotted the familiar forms of Caraxes and Maraxes, their red and silver scales gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Daemon smirked as Caraxes let out a low growl, his serpentine neck arching toward his rider. “There’s my boy,” he murmured, stepping closer to greet his dragon.

Meanwhile, Maraxes let out a low rumble of recognition, her sharp eyes locking onto you. You approached her with a smile, placing a hand on her warm scales. "Hi my love," The bond between you and your dragon was as strong as ever, a connection forged over years of shared battles and flights.

“Do you think they approve?” you asked, glancing at Daemon as he ran a hand along Caraxes’ neck.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. “They’ll have to. They’re bound to each other, just like we are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity, though his words carried a truth you couldn’t deny. Standing there together with your dragons, it felt as if the world had aligned perfectly for this moment—a celebration not just of your betrothal, but of the bond you shared, one that had always felt inevitable.

You watched the Dragonkeeper closely, noting the concern in their eyes as they observed Caraxes and Maraxes. One of them, a young man who had worked with dragons for years, hesitated before speaking.

“Maraxes and Caraxes have been acting out recently,” he said, voice low. “They’ve been more aggressive than usual, particularly Maraxes. We thought something was wrong.”

The other Dragonkeeper, an older woman, nodded in agreement. “It’s unlike them. We’ve been keeping a close eye, but nothing we do seems to settle them.”

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, who stood quietly beside you. The air around them felt thick with the dragons’ restlessness. However, as the Dragonkeepers’ gazes shifted toward you and Daemon, their expressions shifted from concern to shock.

Maraxes, normally a force of nature, moved with an uncharacteristic calmness. She stepped forward slowly, lowering her massive head toward you. Then, in an almost deliberate motion, she nudged you gently, pushing your body toward the area where she and Caraxes slept. It was a soft nudge, but it was clear that she wanted you to follow.

“Maraxes…” you murmured in surprise, but you allowed the dragon to guide you. You took a cautious step forward, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. Daemon followed close behind, a knowing look in his eyes.

As you reached the resting place of your dragons, your breath caught in your throat. There, nestled among the bedding of fireproofed hay and soft stone, lay four dragon eggs.

The sight of the eggs made your heart skip a beat. You knelt slowly, reaching out with trembling fingers. The eggs were large, their shells shimmering with an iridescent glow, a mixture of deep reds and silvers that mirrored the colors of Maraxes and Caraxes.

Daemon stood behind you, his eyes softening as he spoke. “This… explains everything,” he murmured. “They’ve been guarding these. Their aggression, their restlessness—it was to protect their future.”

You felt a rush of emotions—pride, awe, and a profound sense of connection. The change in Maraxes and Caraxes was not just a random shift in their behavior; they had been preparing for something, something bigger than the two of you had expected.

“I didn’t know…” you whispered, your fingers tracing the smooth surface of one of the eggs. “They were expecting.”

Daemon moved to stand beside you, his voice low and reverent. “Neither did I. But it makes sense now. They’ve been waiting for their offspring. They’ve always been protective, but now… this is their legacy.”

The Dragonkeeper, who had been watching in stunned silence, finally spoke. “It’s extraordinary. The dragons have chosen to trust you both in ways we never imagined. Not only are they accepting of you as their riders, but now, they’ve given you their future.”

You felt a sense of awe wash over you, realizing that this moment was more significant than anything you could have imagined. Caraxes and Maraxes were not just dragons bound to their riders—they were family, and they were passing on their legacy to you.

Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze intense but filled with something softer, something deeper. “This is just the beginning, my love. We have something far greater ahead of us now.”

You nodded, the weight of the moment settling in. You had always known that your bond with Daemon and the dragons was something extraordinary, but now, you understood just how much more it truly was.

The eggs lay there, waiting, as if the dragons were telling you both that they were ready for this next chapter—to share their legacy, their power, and their future with you.

After returning to the Red Keep with Daemon from the Dragonpit, the exhilaration of discovering the dragon eggs still lingered in your mind. As you made your way through the corridors, a servant approached and informed you that Queen Aemma had requested your presence in her chambers.

You exchanged a glance with Daemon, who smirked slightly. “Go on,” he said, his tone teasing. “I’m sure she’s been planning our wedding more than we have.”

Rolling your eyes but smiling softly, you left Daemon and made your way to Aemma’s chambers. When you entered, you found her seated near the window, her delicate hands working on a piece of embroidery. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm glow, and she looked up with a gentle smile as you approached.

“There you are,” she said warmly, setting aside her work. “I was beginning to think I’d have to send someone to drag you here.”

You laughed softly and took a seat across from her. “I was at the Dragonpit with Daemon,” you explained. “But I came as soon as I heard you wanted to see me.”

Aemma’s smile widened, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Ah, Daemon. I suppose he’s too busy parading you around on dragonback to think about the details of your wedding.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, feeling a sense of comfort in Aemma’s presence. She had always been kind and supportive, treating you more like a sister than just her sister-in-law.

“I thought we could discuss the arrangements,” Aemma continued, her tone softening. “Your gown, the feast, the decorations… all the things that men don’t think about.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance. “I’d appreciate that, Aemma. I’ve hardly had time to think about any of it.”

She reached for a small chest beside her and opened it, revealing swatches of fabric in various shades and textures. “I had these brought in for you,” she said, holding up a piece of silvery fabric that shimmered in the light. “I thought this might suit you—something that reflects your connection to your dragon and your Targaryen heritage.”

You ran your fingers over the fabric, marveling at its softness and beauty. “It’s perfect,” you said, already envisioning the gown that would be made from it.

Aemma smiled, her expression thoughtful. “You’ll look radiant,” she said. “And I know Daemon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

The warmth in her voice made your heart swell, and you reached out to squeeze her hand. “Thank you, Aemma. For everything.”

She squeezed your hand in return, her gaze steady and full of affection. “You’re family,” she said simply. “And you deserve to be happy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and planning as you and Aemma discussed every detail of the wedding. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that you were surrounded by love and support as you prepared for this new chapter in your life.

As you opened the door to your chambers, the familiar warmth of the room greeted you, along with the sight of Daemon standing near the fireplace. The golden glow of the flames reflected off his silver hair, giving him an almost ethereal presence. His arms were crossed casually over his chest, but there was an intensity in his gaze as he turned to face you.

“You’re here,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you approached. “I expected you to be… elsewhere. At the brothel, perhaps, celebrating your last night of freedom with Mysaria.” Your tone was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it.

Daemon chuckled, the sound low and rich, as he stepped closer to you. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Is it not true?” you countered, tilting your head. “You’ve always been so fond of such places. Why not indulge one last time before you can’t go back without consequences?”

He laughed again, this time louder, and shook his head. “You’re sharper than a Valyrian steel blade, aren’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But no. I haven’t set foot in a brothel—or seen Mysaria—since you came of age.”

That caught you off guard. You stared at him, trying to process his words. “What?”

Daemon stepped even closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “Do you really think I’d waste my time there, knowing what I know now? After realizing how much of myself I gave to the wrong people, the wrong pursuits?”

You blinked, still trying to make sense of his words. “What are you saying, Daemon?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, but his gaze was anything but—it was intense, almost searing. “I’m saying that for too long, I gave my attention to the wrong women. Women who didn’t matter. Because I was too blind to see what was right in front of me.”

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Daemon…”

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that softened his features. “You’ve always been the only one who mattered,” he said softly. “And I’m not going to waste another moment pretending otherwise.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, your emotions a whirlwind of disbelief, hope, and something far deeper.

“Then why are you here?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “If not to celebrate your last night of freedom?”

Daemon’s smile turned into a smirk as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because I’m not losing my freedom,” he murmured. “I’m gaining you.”

The fire crackled softly in the background as his words hung in the air, and for the first time, you realized just how much this marriage meant—not just to you, but to him as well.

Daemon’s gaze softened as your hand gently caressed his cheek, your touch tender and full of unspoken emotions. His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but before he could, you rose onto your toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, a quiet intensity passing between you.

“I’m lucky to have you, Daemon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The raw honesty in your tone made his jaw tighten, though his eyes glimmered with something vulnerable.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued before he could, your hand still cradling his cheek. “If our father were still here…” you paused, a pang of sorrow in your chest, “he’d be proud of us. Of you, especially.”

Daemon’s expression faltered for a moment, his confident facade cracking as he absorbed your words. His hand came up to cover yours on his face, his touch warm and steady. “You truly believe that?” he asked softly, his voice almost uncertain, as if he needed to hear the answer more than anything else.

You nodded, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “I do. He would have seen the man you’ve become—the man who fights for what he wants, who protects those he loves. He’d be proud of you, Daemon. Just as I am.”

Daemon exhaled deeply, his forehead leaning against yours. “You give me too much credit,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Not nearly enough,” you countered gently, your own lips curving into a smile.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows around the room. It was a moment of quiet understanding, a bond stronger than any words could convey.

And in that moment, you knew—no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could face anything.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence near the window of your chambers, the cool night air filtering in as stars scattered across the dark sky. Daemon’s arm was wrapped possessively around your waist, his grip firm yet comforting. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of your own breathing.

He broke the silence, his voice low and curious. “Why did you name your dragon Maraxes?”

The question made you smile softly as you turned your gaze toward him. He was looking down at you with a mixture of curiosity and fondness, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your side.

“She reminded me of Rhaenys’ Maraxes,” you said after a moment, your tone thoughtful. “The strength, the grace… Even as a hatchling, she carried herself like she knew she was born to be something great.”

Daemon smirked faintly, his eyes reflecting the dim glow of the moonlight. “And you always did have a penchant for the stories of our ancestors. I remember how you’d make me read them to you when we were younger.”

You chuckled, leaning further into his warmth. “Those stories are part of who we are, Daemon. Rhaenys and Maraxes… they were a force to be reckoned with. I wanted my dragon to carry that legacy, to remind the world of the power our family holds.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. “Maraxes suits her, just as you suit her. Both proud, unyielding, and utterly impossible to ignore.”

You laughed quietly, a soft blush creeping into your cheeks. “And what of Caraxes?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “He’s as wild and unpredictable as his rider.”

Daemon grinned, unbothered by your playful jab. “Caraxes and I understand each other,” he replied. “We don’t need names steeped in history. We make our own.”

Your smile softened as you looked back at the sky. “That’s why we work, Daemon. I carry the weight of the past, and you carve the path for the future. Together, we balance each other.”

Daemon didn’t respond immediately, but the way he held you tighter said everything. In his embrace, you felt the promise of a shared destiny—one that neither history nor the future could take away.

Your wedding day was meant to be perfect, and every detail had been meticulously planned. Yet, the air was thick with tension as a heated argument unfolded between Daemon and Viserys.

Daemon stood firm, his voice sharp and unyielding. “We are Targaryens. The blood of Old Valyria flows through our veins. This wedding should honor our ancestors with an Old Valyrian ceremony.”

Viserys, seated on the Iron Throne, was equally resolute. “This is a union that will be celebrated across the Seven Kingdoms. You will marry in the sight of the Seven, as is tradition.”

You stood silently between them, your heart heavy as you watched your brothers clash. Daemon’s jaw was set in frustration, while Viserys exuded the authority of a king determined to have his way.

“I’ve allowed this match to proceed,” Viserys added, his tone sharp with warning. “But do not mistake my indulgence for weakness. If you insist on this foolishness, I’ll put an end to it. Daemon will wed Rhea Royce, and you will wed Jason Lannister.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Viserys’ threat sinking in. You looked at Daemon, whose expression was a mix of fury and disbelief. His hands clenched at his sides, and you knew he was moments away from saying something he would regret.

Before he could speak, you stepped forward, your voice calm but firm. “We will marry in the sight of the Seven,” you said, your words directed at Viserys but meant for Daemon as well.

Daemon turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You met his gaze with quiet determination, silently pleading for his understanding.

“This is about more than just us,” you continued, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. “A wedding in the tradition of the Seven will solidify our union in the eyes of the realm. It will bring stability, which is what we need most right now.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident, but he said nothing. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter how we marry, Daemon. What matters is that we will be together.”

Viserys nodded approvingly, his stern expression softening slightly. “It’s good to see one of you understands the bigger picture,” he said, his tone dismissive.

Daemon didn’t respond to Viserys. Instead, he turned to you, his violet eyes filled with unspoken words. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, his hand brushing against yours in a silent promise.

As you left the throne room together, you whispered, “Thank you for trusting me.”

Daemon’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered.

Despite the tension, his words warmed your heart. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you would face them together.

You entered Aemma’s chambers, the faint scent of lavender filling the air as sunlight streamed through the windows. She stood near a mannequin, admiring a breathtaking white gown made of the finest silk. Her face lit up as she saw you approach, her hands clasped together in excitement.

“There you are,” Aemma said warmly, gesturing for you to come closer. “I’ve had this gown specially made for you. I want your wedding to outshine even mine.”

You stared at the gown in awe. The intricate embroidery shimmered in the light, delicate patterns of dragons and fire adorning the fabric. The train was long and flowing, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, while the fitted bodice sparkled with tiny gemstones.

“You’ll be the most beautiful bride the realm has ever seen,” Aemma said, her voice filled with determination. “This wedding will be the grandest of all, as it should be.”

You smiled softly, touched by her efforts. “You didn’t have to go to such lengths, Aemma.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re my sister now, and this is the happiest I’ve seen Daemon in years. This marriage is a celebration not just for you, but for the family.”

She guided you to stand before the gown, motioning for her handmaidens to help you try it on. The silk felt cool against your skin as the dress was carefully draped over you. Aemma adjusted the neckline, stepping back to admire her work.

“You look perfect,” she said, her eyes glistening with pride.

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, the sight taking your breath away. The gown fit you like it was made for you alone, the shimmering silk enhancing your natural beauty.

“I hope Daemon doesn’t cause trouble just so he can get a glimpse of you before the wedding,” Aemma teased, a playful smile on her lips. “He’s been restless ever since Viserys gave his approval. He might just break tradition.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “He’s always been impatient.”

Aemma took your hands, squeezing them gently. “I want you to know how happy I am for you,” she said, her voice soft with emotion. “You and Daemon… you belong together. This wedding will mark the beginning of something truly beautiful.”

Tears threatened to well in your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding. “Thank you, Aemma. For everything.”

She smiled, pulling you into a warm embrace. In that moment, you felt the love and support of family surrounding you, giving you strength for the journey ahead.

After trying on the gown Aemma had prepared for you, you made your way to the throne room, which was abuzz with preparations for your fast-approaching wedding. Servants scurried about, setting up tables and arranging decorations with meticulous care. The banners of House Targaryen hung proudly from the walls, their red and black sigils casting a regal presence over the space.

You paused, taking it all in—the grandeur, the anticipation. This was more than just a wedding; it was a union that would be remembered for generations.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you felt a familiar warmth at your back. Daemon’s hands slid gently around your waist, his touch both possessive and comforting. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against your ear.

“I’ve seen you in your gown,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “And I can already tell they’ll speak of your beauty for centuries.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his smirk from the corner of your eye. “You couldn’t wait, could you?” you replied, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your tone.

“Patience was never one of my virtues,” he admitted, his arms tightening around you. “But it’s not just the dress. It’s you. I’m not sure the Seven or even the old gods could have made something more perfect.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you quickly composed yourself, glancing at the bustling preparations before you. “Everything is coming together,” you said softly. “It feels… surreal.”

Daemon shifted slightly, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “It’s fitting, isn’t it?” he said, his voice softer now. “A grand celebration for us. For what we are and what we will build together.”

You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes meeting his. “And what is that, Daemon?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A legacy,” he replied without hesitation. “A bond stronger than dragonfire, one that no one—not even Viserys—can break.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the chaos around you seemed to fade away. All that remained was him, and the unyielding certainty in his gaze.

“Come,” he said suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ve grown tired of watching others make preparations. Let’s see to the dragons instead. Let them know that soon, we’ll be joined as one.”

You couldn’t help but smile, allowing him to guide you away from the bustling throne room. As always, with Daemon by your side, the future felt both thrilling and inevitable.

You gently patted Maraxes’ powerful back, feeling the familiar warmth of her scales beneath your hand. The wind whipped through your hair as you soared high above the Red Keep, the world below appearing as small as a map laid out on a table.

Beside you, Daemon and Caraxes raced ahead, the Blood Wyrm’s elongated form slicing through the clouds with ease. Caraxes let out a piercing roar, its cry challenging the skies themselves.

Maraxes, not one to be outdone, responded with a thunderous roar of her own, her wings beating harder as she surged forward. You gripped her saddle tightly, leaning closer to her neck to encourage her.

“Show them, Maraxes,” you murmured with a grin, the thrill of the flight coursing through you. “Show them what you’re made of.”

With a sudden burst of speed, Maraxes lunged forward, her massive wings cutting through the air with precision. The distance between you and Daemon began to close rapidly.

Daemon glanced back, his silver hair shining under the sun, and you caught the smug smirk on his face falter as Maraxes closed in.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” you called out, your voice carrying over the roar of the wind.

He laughed, the sound carried to you by the wind. “Careful, my love,” he replied, steering Caraxes into a sharp dive. “I’d hate for you to lose your nerve.”

But you didn’t falter. Maraxes followed Caraxes’ lead, diving with grace and speed that rivaled even the most seasoned dragons. The ground rushed toward you, but you trusted her completely.

As you leveled out beside Daemon once more, the two dragons roared in unison, their voices blending into a symphony of power and dominance. You and Daemon exchanged a glance, the exhilaration of the ride mirrored in his eyes.

“Maraxes is a true queen,” he said, his tone filled with pride.

“And Caraxes a worthy prince,” you replied with a playful smirk.

Together, you guided your dragons into a synchronized ascent, their forms weaving through the sky like a dance. In that moment, it wasn’t just the bond between you and Daemon that felt unbreakable—it was the connection you shared with your dragons, the legacy you were creating together, and the love that burned as fiercely as dragonfire.

You dismounted Maraxes with practiced ease, patting her side gently as she let out a low, satisfied growl. You turned toward Daemon, who had already slid off Caraxes and was approaching you with a small smirk on his face.

The two dragons, seemingly understanding their riders had finished their flight, began to walk together toward the Dragonpit. Their massive tails swayed lazily as they moved side by side, a rare display of harmony between the two fierce creatures.

Daemon’s attention, however, was solely on you. His sharp violet eyes took in your slightly disheveled appearance, a teasing glint in them. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of your hair back into place, his touch lingering for just a moment.

“You look as if you’ve just fought in a battle,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

You laughed softly, brushing dirt from your sleeve. “Flying with Maraxes always feels like a battle—she doesn’t let me relax for even a moment.”

Daemon grinned, his gaze flickering to the retreating forms of the dragons. “She’s a reflection of her rider, then. Stubborn, relentless, and utterly magnificent.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your lips. “And what does that say about Caraxes, then?”

“Loyal, fierce, and just unpredictable enough to keep things interesting,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you allowed him to help you onto his black horse, a sleek and well-bred creature that always seemed to mirror its master’s confidence. Once you were comfortably seated, he climbed on behind you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist.

The ride back to the Red Keep was peaceful, the rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves filling the quiet between you. Daemon’s hold on you was firm yet comforting, and as the walls of the castle came into view, you leaned back slightly into him, finding solace in his presence.

“You know,” he murmured near your ear, breaking the silence, “this is how it should always be. You, me, and the dragons.”

You tilted your head slightly to glance back at him. “And what of the world that waits for us within those walls?”

Daemon’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Let the world wait. For now, it’s just us.”

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, and as you passed through the gates of the Red Keep, you couldn’t help but wish that this moment could stretch on forever.

The day of your wedding had finally arrived, and your chambers were bustling with activity even before the first rays of sunlight graced the horizon. Aemma, ever the perfectionist, had gathered her trusted ladies-in-waiting to ensure every detail of your preparation was flawless.

You sat before a large mirror, dressed in the finest silk undergarments, as one of the maids carefully wove intricate braids into your hair. Aemma hovered nearby, her sharp eyes inspecting every detail, from the embroidery on your gown to the gleaming jewelry laid out on the table.

“This will be the grandest wedding the realm has seen,” Aemma declared with confidence, adjusting the tiara that would soon rest on your head. “You will be the vision of perfection, as you deserve to be.”

You gave her a soft smile, but your attention was pulled elsewhere. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outline of Daemon standing behind the sheer curtain at the far end of the room. His unmistakable figure was partially hidden, but you could hear the faintest sound of his chuckle.

You turned slightly in your chair, catching the amused glint in his violet eyes through the thin fabric. “Daemon,” you said firmly, though your lips quirked into a knowing smile, “you’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony.”

His voice came through, low and teasing. “I’m only ensuring my bride is being treated properly. Wouldn’t want them to dull your shine before the day even begins.”

Aemma turned toward the sound, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Daemon, you’re being ridiculous. Out!” she scolded, waving a hand toward the curtain.

He only laughed softly, his silhouette lingering for a moment longer. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his tone laced with a promise, before retreating out of sight.

You shook your head, warmth blossoming in your chest despite yourself. Aemma returned her attention to you, adjusting the intricate neckline of your wedding gown with care.

“He adores you,” she said softly, her expression unexpectedly tender.

You met her gaze in the mirror, a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “And I, him.”

Aemma’s smile deepened, and she patted your shoulder gently. “Good. Now, let’s ensure you’re ready to take his breath away.”

You were fully prepared, dressed in the stunning gown Aemma had so carefully designed, every detail perfect. Now, it was Viserys who stood by your side in the carriage as you made your way to the Sept.

The ride was quiet, the clattering of the wheels over the stone streets filling the silence. Viserys sat across from you, his face soft yet tinged with a sadness he couldn’t entirely hide. His violet eyes lingered on you, taking in the serene expression on your face and the subtle joy radiating from you.

“You look… just like Mother,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “She would have been so proud to see you like this.”

You glanced at him, touched by his words. “And Father?” you asked gently.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Father would’ve been furious that you were grown enough to marry,” he replied, his tone lightening. “But he’d have been proud, too. Proud of you and of the match you’ve made.”

The mention of Daemon brought a new look to his face—one of conflicted fondness. He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “You and Daemon… You’ve always been inseparable. I only hope this union will bring you happiness, as much as it does the realm.”

You smiled softly, your fingers lightly brushing over the delicate fabric of your gown. “Daemon and I will do our duty, but this marriage is not just for the realm. It is for us.”

Viserys’ gaze softened further. “You and Daemon, happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for either of you.”

As the carriage approached the Sept, you caught a glimpse of the banners of House Targaryen flying high, the crowds gathering to witness the union.

Viserys reached out and placed a reassuring hand over yours. “The realm will celebrate today, but remember, this is your moment. Take it, and let no one tell you otherwise.”

You nodded, your heart steady with resolve. Today, you would not just be a bride but a queen of your own destiny, standing beside the man who had always been your closest confidant and deepest love.

You walked gracefully down the aisle, your arm linked with Viserys’. The grand Sept was filled with lords, ladies, and knights from across the realm, all gathered to witness the union. The light from the stained-glass windows painted the room in hues of gold and red, illuminating the Targaryen banners that hung proudly from the high arches.

At the altar stood Daemon, his usual air of confidence softened by the rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he watched you approach. His violet eyes held yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

Viserys gave your hand a gentle squeeze before passing it to Daemon. His expression was one of reluctant acceptance, but you knew he cared for you deeply. Daemon took your hand, his grip firm yet tender as he pulled you closer.

The septon began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the sacred hall. He spoke of duty, love, and the strength of bonds forged in the light of the Seven. You barely heard the words, your focus entirely on Daemon—the man who had been your constant companion, your fiercest protector, and now, your husband.

When the time came to exchange your vows, Daemon’s voice was steady, yet laced with emotion as he spoke:

“With fire and blood, I bind my life to yours. From this day until my last, I am yours, and you are mine.”

Your own voice did not waver as you responded:

“Through the storms and flames, I will stand by your side. My heart is yours, now and forever.”

The septon proclaimed you husband and wife, and the crowd erupted in applause as Daemon leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that sealed your union.

As you turned to face the cheering crowd, Daemon whispered into your ear, “You were born to be mine, and now, the realm knows it.”

The two of you walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held as one.

The cheers and laughter of the gathered lords and ladies filled the air as you and Daemon stepped into the Great Hall of the Red Keep. The grand space was adorned with Targaryen banners, their crimson and black colors illuminated by the glow of countless candles. Tables were laden with the finest foods and wines from across the realm, a feast fit to honor the union of House Targaryen’s bloodline.

Daemon’s arm rested over yours as you descended the steps from the royal carriage. His smirk grew as he surveyed the crowd, his confidence radiating as always. You could feel his pride not only in himself but also in you—his wife, his equal.

The room fell silent as you both entered the throne room. All eyes turned to you, their murmurs of awe unmistakable. Your gown shimmered under the light, its white and silver fabric a reflection of the stars themselves, while your Valyrian features were framed perfectly by the intricate braids of your hair.

Daemon leaned in close as you paused at the entrance, his lips brushing your ear.

“They’re not here to celebrate the feast,” he murmured with a teasing tone, “They’re here to see the most beautiful woman in the realm.”

You smiled and gave his arm a light squeeze, your gaze sweeping across the room before the two of you moved forward, walking together with regal poise. At the center of the hall, Viserys stood waiting for you both, his expression a mixture of relief and joy as he raised a goblet to toast your union.

“Tonight, we celebrate not just the joining of two hearts but the strength of House Targaryen!” Viserys declared, his voice carrying across the hall. “May their love burn as brightly as dragonfire and stand as strong as the stone of Dragonstone!”

The crowd erupted into applause, and the music began to play. Daemon turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, extending his hand.

“Shall we give them a dance to remember, my wife?”

You took his hand with a soft laugh, allowing him to lead you to the center of the room. As the two of you began to dance, the rest of the hall seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you, your love, and the fire of House Targaryen burning brightly in your hearts.

The music swelled through the hall as you and Daemon danced, your movements perfectly synchronized as though you had been dancing together all your lives. The room faded away, leaving only the two of you in each other’s gaze.

Daemon’s hand rested firmly on your waist, guiding you effortlessly across the floor, while his other hand held yours with a gentle yet possessive grip. His violet eyes were locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that only he could convey. There was no one else in the world for him in that moment but you.

“You are breathtaking,” he whispered softly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “And you look every bit the rogue prince they whisper about,” you teased lightly, though your tone was filled with affection.

His smirk deepened, but the love in his eyes never faltered. “Let them whisper. They’ll never know the truth of how you’ve stolen my heart.”

The music continued, and the guests watched in awe as you and Daemon moved as one, the perfect embodiment of Targaryen royalty. The way he spun you, the way you moved together, and the way he brought you back into his arms spoke volumes—this was not just a marriage of duty, but of deep, undeniable love.

When the music ended, the hall erupted in applause, but Daemon did not release you right away. Instead, he pulled you closer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he whispered, “We are bound now, by fire and blood. Always.”

You nodded, your voice just as soft. “Always.”

As the applause echoed around you, Daemon pulled you in even closer, his breath warm against your skin. He didn’t wait for the crowd to settle, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was full of promise, passion, and love. The world around you disappeared as you melted into his embrace, the kiss deep and slow, as though he was claiming you in front of everyone.

The sound of distant chatter faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the weight of the vows you had just exchanged, the love you had built, and the bond that now tied you together. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

When the kiss finally broke, Daemon rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “I never want to be without you,” he whispered, voice filled with raw sincerity.

You smiled, your heart full, and softly replied, “And you never will be.”

The crowd continued to cheer, but it was just the two of you in that moment, lost in each other, knowing that this was the beginning of your forever.

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

[thetarotyapper]

what's 2025 going to be like for you? (pick-a-card reading)

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(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. select the card based on the number provided below and scroll down to read about the card you have chosen. remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

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۶ৎ pile 1 ۶ৎ

i see that in 2025, you will be leaving your past behind and you will be focusing on building yourself. i see that you will be improving your skills and i see that there will be a good financial opportunity for you. im also getting a message here that you might discover something that'll help you grow (as in like it will help you financially. maybe it's a new business idea? or something of that sort). i'm also seeing that there will be companionship. if you're single, i see that you will be meeting someone new and there is a mutual attraction/connection here. i see you coming out of your comfort zone and putting yourself out there. i am also getting a feeling that maybe last year you might've felt insecure or not so confident about yourself, but this year im seeing that you will finally know your worth. if you are in a relationship, i see that there will be a lot of understanding and depth in your relationship. your relationship will deepen and i see you and your person forgiving each other for any sort of misunderstanding that arose before. i'm also seeing that this year will be filled with good luck for you. however, i do see that there is some lack of future planning in this pile. or just lack of planning in general. i see that you will need to fix your own personal goals and work on yourself. i also see that you might be scared of the future or the unknown, but the universe wants you to understand that they're on your side and that your luck is with you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

۶ৎ pile 2 ۶ৎ

oh my dear pile 2, im seeing that many people have been trying to bring you down lately. im seeing that no one hears you out and they don't consider your feelings. and because of this, you might be blaming yourself and might be thinking that there is a problem with you. you might be wondering “what did i do in order to deserve this?”. but my cards are telling me that nothing is wrong with you. people just don't like the idea of seeing you happy and fulfilled. my cards are telling me that you need to set boundaries this year and you need to be more courageous. i also see that people do not like the idea of you growing and because of this, you've been holding yourself back. you need to let go of all the negatives and focus on the positive. i do see that people will be persistent in bringing you down this year, but you need to stand your ground. i do see that you are hopeful this year and you are ready for a fresh start. i see that you have a positive perspective for this year and do not even change this attitude of yours. people will only talk. your life is up to you. if you've been thinking about an idea or thinking about the life you wish to live, bring that idea into being and carry it out. the universe has got your back.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

۶ৎ pile 3 ۶ৎ

damn pile 3, i see a lot of tension and movement here. i see that your year will be flooded with ideas and inspiration. it seems like you have come out of a blockage period in your life and this year i see you moving on and getting what you want. you go girl! im also seeing that you will be DIRECT with people and let me tell you, they're going to HATE this. where's the quiet, shy pile 3 gone? SHES CHANGED. and changed for the better 😌. this is YOUR year. don't let ANYONE take this year from you. i see that you will also keep your heart open this year and i see that your prime focus for 2025 is your career. you're not gonna let any distractions come in your way. okay girl, i see you🤭. i do see that things might fall out of hand as the year progresses but you'll find a way to manage everything. you always do. so don't worry too much about the downs this year. i see only growth and potential. i do see you having to make important decisions during this year, so take a breath and do what your heart feels right.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

hi loves!! happy new year 🫶i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

[megsdoodletag]

yes ok I have been asked about the updated codex let’s talk updated codex

So. Post Plague-Wars. Ultramar system. Guilliman and Yvraine have a strong alliance, and in completely and totally unrelated news have a daughter named Juno Vaeyncaria Guilliman.

MEANWHILE…

on the other side of the Imperium, the Emperor is given a Text-To-Speech Device. Now the original ITEHATTSD obviously happens prior to Plague Wars so while the basic framework is there (kitten exists, magnus is back, dorn and his Boy are there, etc.) it’s obviously a lil different. Through a series of convoluted events we don’t need to discuss at this point, Magnus accidentally pokes the timeline in a weird way and pops the dead primarchs back into existence. They remember everything just fine! They are just. no longer dead. and now in 42k.

This brings us to what I’m affectionately calling ‘2012 Avengers Tower Imperial Palace.’ All the known primarchs are active, though some are still running around 'lost-ish' in the warp. Most of the previously dead primarchs are ‘recovering’ in their former residencies alongside the TTS crew, seeing to what’s left of their legion and figuring out what the hell is going on with. whatever is happening in M42.

Horus in particular is in a weird spot. first, of all the returnees, he’s alone. Ferrus makes up with fulgrim pretty immediately, sang is permanently covered in various marines of his geneline, konrad’s having a Great Time Actually (we’ll get to that later). but nobody seems to like horus much, a position he’s never been in, and this includes his legion which is entirely under abaddon’s control and not going anywhere in the near future. so he does what any guy going through a midlife crisis does and gets himself a hobby.

See, two supposedly dead primarchs remain unaccounted for after Magnus’ spell, namely the two original Lost Primarchs. by logic this means they must still be alive, somewhere. everyone else is unbothered by this, as Malcador’s memory spell disallows any concentrated thought of the two, and even though the primarchs are aware they had more brothers, to their knowledge dad went out to meet with them and something Went Wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️ and then he came back and retired shortly thereafter. weird! oh well.

but horus was not just killed, he was Unmade. when he was reconstituted it was as though he was new, without the stain of chaos.

and free of malcador’s influence.

while ostensibly crashing on dad’s couch, Horus throws himself into finding out what he believes is the key to all of this, the thing that poisoned the imperium before even the Heresy, the original Deviation from the Plan: whatever actually happened to the two lost primarchs?

Ok it’s later now. Konrad Curze always believed in fate. He followed it dutifully into its darkest depths, to his own grisly death.

And then he came back! He never saw anything about that! He figures that, having lived out his fate to its completion, he’s now free of it entirely. Oh he still has visions, but he’s much more lax in interpreting them, and thinks himself above their dictates besides. So. He still likes flensing people and thinks fear makes a fine method of control and hes still got…issues…but he’s not quite as stuck and he's having a wonderful time about it. and he’s also hanging around the palace bc he’s also got very little contact with his legion, which is either scattered or under Sevatar and/or whichever NL prophet we're on now.

So he gets roped into fucking around in emps’ restricted history section with horus! yippee!

The two actually work really well as a buddy-cop kinda pair, with horus slowly repairing his relationships where he can while konrad trails him and learns how to be alive outside of the narrow scope of his futuresight. Magnus inevitably sticks his nose into things and gets to work undoing the mind-block on the rest of them. Alpharius gets involved because it turns out one of the lost legions might actually still exist. and even lion and leman join the hunt cause honestly they're really curious at this point.

Eventually the uncles drag their niece and her friends into the whole ordeal, in part because she happens to have a particularly strong psychic presence that attracts lost and dead marine souls in the warp. Like a cooler, named character version of the Legion of the Damned. Usefull when trying to gain accurate historical info.

oh yeah and emps gets off the throne at some point. he’s not bothering with the Mystery Gang because he’s too busy being one half of a political deadlock with guilliman, where it’s very clear gman does not actually trust him to lead the imperium anymore and is essentially running his own show off-leash from ultramar, but neither of them are remotely willing to like, discuss this. in any way. so instead they’re just stuck awkwardly across from each other, guilliman never offering control of the imperium back to his father and emps never reaching to take the regent position from him and i think if he stopped to think about it this is bc emps would be. a little nervous about resuming full command back from guilliman. because he’s not sure guilliman would give it to him. and he’s not sure he’s in a position to handle that. again. but emps is allergic to being emotionally competent so his brain skates over that thought, unable to confront it directly with any introspection, and instead he just. doesnt mention it! and guilliman doesnt mention it and emps sits in the wreckage of the dream he accidentally set on fire himself while his son methodically does the work to put it out and they won’t look at each other and its fine its all. fine.

and that’s the Updated Codex! 👍🏻 feel free to ask more

thanks to @wolf_feathers12 for the chance to give my ted talk, and tagging @thisuserissilly for lore posts (tm)

[reborn-readings]

What does 2025 have in store for you?

Tip Jar | Masterlist TBA

Welcome to the end of the year, and the beginning of a new one. At this moment, I'd like to take a look at what sorts of opportunities are available on our collective paths in 2025. Hope you enjoy!

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Top Left)

The Tower | King of Pentacles | Awakening of Wands – Eros | Rx Ace pf Wands | Nine of Winter | Howlite – Meditation | Dreamer | Inspiration 

Pile 1, 2025 is the wake-up call for you. For so long you have focused on your security and material gain that you have now built a fortress around you. How much more secure do you need to be? You are already very skilled at procuring what you need, but it seems that you do not trust your skills. You seem to place your trust in what you have, not what you are. But that is unsustainable. 

Do you fear that the fires of your passions—those frivolous things that we enjoy, those things that we’d place as wants and not needs—will burn up what you’ve built? Well, Pile 1, you can either light your abode with a cozy fire or suffer the cold of winter, letting it sap your strength. There have been signs that you have been neglecting this side of yourself, maybe from the universe, maybe from your own body. 

I will say, you are correct that any passion taken too far can be destructive. But just as destructive is the notion of living your life whilst denying yourself your dreams. Think back to the reason that you wanted to feel safe in the first place. 

I have three big, important messages for you. One: Closed eyes are just as important as open eyes. Two: Your dreams chose you for a reason. Three: rekindle the flame that burned for your passions and projects. 2025 will be a hard road toward stability and fulfillment, but remember: whatever falls apart you have the ability to build back up. 

Other messages - It’s about the journey. Rest and relaxation allowing one to see clearly. The worst-case scenario in your head is worse than the actual worst-case scenario. Traveling the hard path for no reason. Urgent messages to you—stop, be quiet, listen. 

Symbols - Drawing from a never-ending well. Basking in the glow of an out-of-control flame. Weightlessness. Soft, heavy paws. Someone wrapping you in the folds and depths of their cloak.

Pile 2 (Top Right)

Three of Swords | Nine of Pentacles | Quester of Wands – Anansi | Rx Three of Cups | Princess of Winter | Equilibrium | Elegance | Returning – Going with the Flow 

I’m sorry to tell you, Pile 2, but 2025 heralds heartbreak. But that’s not the be-all end-all to it. The rest of these cards don’t point to that much of a loss with the heartbreak. 

After all…you kind of have it made! You are somebody who indulges in the pleasures of life, and, if someone can’t keep up with you, well, then it’s their loss, isn’t it? You’ve got other things to do, other people to grace your time with. Solitude is not the answer right now, and I don’t think it’s even crossed your mind. 

Remember to value the traits of yourself that you know are true. I can sense you’re a very honest, direct, straightforward person, and maybe whoever tried to break your heart didn’t like that about you. Or maybe they saw the suave, elegant way that you move about, the charm with which you capture whole rooms full of people, and they grew jealous. Either way, you have more than enough capability to swat off their attempt at making you hurt. 

Still, it’s difficult to not feel icy or standoffish after a breakup (romantic or non!). Maybe you feel like instead of winter fading to spring, it’s bouncing back to autumn? Don’t worry; as long as you keep and cherish your remaining connections and remain calm, things will go back to normal soon, and what you’ve been growing will yield fruit as usual. For you, 2025 is the year of the bounce-back! Life goes on, and you will keep on enjoying it, quickly filling the space left behind with something grounding and complimentary. 

Other messages - Remember and be awed by the sheer connectivity of the world. Waiting to bloom. Obscurity—a message of intrigue that only you will know. Embrace the myriad colors in you. 

Symbols - Tangles. Stepping into darkness where you expected something else. Lively settings; bars, parties, large get-togethers, festivals and fairs. Multitasking easily.

Pile 3 (Bottom Left)

Rx Judgement | Six of Pentacles | Quester of Swords – Monkey | The World | Princess of Spring | Hematite – Foundation | Discernment | Healing – Restoring Hope 

Hello, Pile 3! I immediately get a sense of relaxation from you. You’re someone who knows how to kick back and have a good time, someone who people flock to because you share that feeling with others. 

But I can sense in you, deep down, a hesitation at this kind of life that you’ve built for yourself. You wonder if it’ll hold water. Deep inside, you are someone who seeks glory and security, someone who strives to be intelligent and to be held as intelligent. Don’t get me wrong—you’re grateful for all this time, for everything in your recent past, and you should be. But there’s an itch telling you that it’s time to move on. 

2025 is a good opportunity to set your achievements up on their shelves and go out to achieve some more. I get both the sense of something duly completed and of something just beginning. Your uncertainty shines through and tints your vision, though. You don’t want to leap out onto a new field where you won’t even know how to stay on your feet. How will you build up if you don’t know where to start? Just remember: often, the best solution is the simplest. You have good instincts, intuition that has been passed down from your ancestors to you, and all you need to do is learn how to use it. 

Hope is a muscle that you have not been working, but it’s never too late to set a goal and start working those muscles. It looks like 2025 is gonna be a busy year for you! As long as you remember to fall back on your common sense and not give up, you’ll be fine. Get out there already! The whole Earth awaits you. I have faith in you. 

Other messages - Very few come through. Value or emphasis on charity, helping others. Optimism (needed). Judgement-free zones. Many things to look forward to throughout the year. 

Symbols - Gossamer wings. Sand; maybe a local beach? Primary colors, esp. red and yellow. Castles.

Pile 4 (Bottom Right)

Pile 4 

Rx Justice | Ace of Pentacles | Awakening of Cups – Orunmila | Rx King of Wands | Six of Summer | Red Aventurine – Journey | Dreamer | Grief – Accepting Loss 

Pile 4, the first message that came through to me was a voice screaming—it’s not fair! It’s not fair at all. And life just seems to…go on. 

As we move into the new year, it seems that you have one eye on the past, or more. I sense that you are someone on a quest to see the past clearly. Do you have memories that are fuzzy and indistinct? Did a story that you heard about your past not line up with the truth? Is there something unaddressed that’s keeping you from being yourself? 

Well, 2025 seems to bring an opportunity to resolve that. But you must temper yourself and keep your feet on the ground; it is likely that complicated and well-thought-out plans won’t work. There’s always something that could go wrong. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m telling you to miss out on the opportunity when it comes—just that you should be careful to take a very grounded, consistent, and well-paced approach to it. And perhaps what you’re looking for isn’t a sudden falling-into-place of all the knowledge that you seek, but the knowledge that you gain about yourself as you undertake this journey. 

Whatever the outcome, there will be an element of sorrow to it. Even if everything goes off without a hitch, you might still look back on 2025 and mourn the loss of anything else you could’ve done with the time. This year will come with many emotions, many ups and down. It’s cliché advice, I know, but I’m sensing that the best way to go about it is to take life one moment at a time. I see some very warm moments for you; being surrounded by your friends, quiet spaces that bring time and space to think, walks or rides surrounded by nature in golden light. Let each moment be what it will be, and once it’s gone, let it pass on. 

Other messages - To enjoy the journey, let go of the outcome. Find fulfillment in pursuit. Annoyance. Sunsets. 

Symbols - Spirals. Small spaces or doorways. Relief and tears.  

If this was helpful, please consider donating 🤍💛

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[serperioranimations]

BUCKLE UP KIDS, ITS TATER TED TALK TIME

I can definitely be on board with this. I am a disabled artist myself, (neurodivergent/ADHD), and I have a range of characters with physical and mental disabilities, and this also includes Red leader Tord. As well as Tom. And Matt. I’ll put my thoughts and response down below.

I also agree with the scarring points, how in film, evil characters have scars to look more “scary”. There is three examples off the top of my head that literally have the word “scar” in their name. However, I won’t really be discussing that here.

I wouldn’t say MY version of red leader is a bad guy(at least not to Edd, Matt and Tom), he’s moreso just a guy who went about things the wrong way while trying to get his friends recruited. Whole thing. He made up with them eventually. And while he has the ability to come off as intimidating, it’s moreso about the level of power he holds in a room rather than his “scary” appearance.

My portrayals of disability, at least with with red leader tord, mostly focus on the mental effects of his disability. Sure, the physical stress is a lot, but the mental stress of having to worry about your perception and how you are viewed as a disabled person makes a lot of disabilities ten times worse.

He fears that he could get into another accident and lose more of his body and therefore his humanity. Sometimes he has to take his arm off because he hates that he now has to have machinery as his arm. He has nightmares where he’ll be full robot and it freaks him the hell out.

Obviously, there are things that affect him physically too. In the crash, he lost some of his teeth and his cornea had a piece of glass stuck in it and it was damaged. His depth perception is greatly impacted because he’s now blind in his right eye, and he has to wear dentures. He had to change parts of his lifestyle in order to keep them in tact, such as quitting smoking. He also quit because he was scared of getting robot/synthetic lungs and further losing his humanity.

Not to mention, he has to do a lot of work to make sure he can actually LIFT his arm, as it has a lot of machinery in it and that can get quite heavy. He has a lot of frustration surrounding that as well. My version of tord is a tinkerer and always is trying to find new ways to improve something. So his arm is never quite finished. It’s more of an extension to his character than it is a replacement for his arm.

My portrayal of future Tom also has this concept, in the fact that he is blind. His visor does do a lot of things for him, and Tord spent a very long time even trying to get it to work AT ALL.

In a comic I made, it’s implied he had to go through several versions and tests over multiple months to even get him to see ANYTHING. And that comic also implied that it was only a START.

And even if it allows him to see, he still needs to take care of it, he has a backup incase something happens, he has to charge it, all this stuff. And also, it cannot help him see all the time. Like when he turns into a monster.

It can’t help him see when he turns to the size of a building. In fact, when he feels himself turning, he often tries to get the visor off of him as to avoid breaking it because he knows how hard Tord worked on it. But without it, He’s just a giant blind monster who has no idea what’s going on or where he is. And that is a recipe for disaster, my friends.

I will say my representations of technology are not exactly “realistic” and I’ll fully admit that. However, I think it’s important to take into account that sometimes, people just wanna design cool robot stuff that can do cool things. It’s the whole reason people love the idea of flying cars. Yes it’s unrealistic, and we have so many other vehicles that would be way more efficient, but come on- the idea of a flying car is very entertaining. And most of the time, that is what I focus on. If it’s entertaining or interesting.

Plus I’m just like “you know what, I like you- here’s some cool shit you can do cool things with.” That’s how I see the technology in WTFuture. Or at least that’s how I go about it.

In a more realistic and grounded universe outside of Eddsworld, such as my own original story “The Bad Hunters”, I would obviously go about this differently.

But in a world where people can turn into vampires, superhero’s, giant monsters, and just overall break most rules of physics and real life, I think it’s understandable why people in the fandom often default to “because it looks cool” when it comes to designs. After all, I think Edd Gould himself shared this sentiment. 90% of the decisions or jokes he made in his show, I guarantee he made “because it’s funny” or “because it’s cool”.

Like, for example, I have this joke that Tom during meetings will play minesweeper in his headset, because 1- it’s in character that he wouldn’t pay attention to meetings, and 2- it’s funny as hell. And let’s be real- if you’ve been on a zoom meeting that was boring, you’ve probably pulled up minesweeper or solitaire. Is that something realistically that a blind person would be able to do if they had a headset that allowed them to see? Absolutely not. But is it funny? Yes.

Future Matt also has a pretty big disability- that being he has some memory loss related to a brain injury. He got shot in the head and his eye was replaced with a metal one. He also had to get his jaw fixed. He often struggles with remembering what people just told him, and sometimes he forgets where Edd is and that he left. It also, much like Tom and tord and their disabilities, took some getting used to.

He’s also got a mini super computer in his eye that allows him to calculate bullet trajectory and allow him to dodge bullets matrix style. Because fuck it- future Matt is cool, he deserves cool shit. Also because tord was like “aight bro what if I made sure you never got shot in the face again”. Again- is it realistic? No. But is it cool? Yes.

Overall, as an author with disabilities myself, the portrayals of disability I enjoy the most are the ones that acknowledge “this shit sucks” but also are ones that allow for some levity and lightheartedness. This applies to both mental and physical disabilities.

Like toph from ATLA. Yes, she can’t see through the earth and she’s insanely powerful, but also, girlie can’t swim. Obviously, her drowning is no laughing matter, and they don’t make fun of that. But her confidently putting a poster on a wall the wrong way because she can’t see is hilarious.

Or like in arcane, when sevika gets a sick new arm made by jinx, only for it to turn out to be an unpredictable hunk of junk that will do random shit like blast music or shoot fireworks, and sevika is just like “bro are you fucking kidding me”. That may be the most realistic portrayal of a disability aid/tool I’ve ever seen. Sometimes it works great, but sometimes it’s a fucking piece of shit. It also helps that Sevikas arm links to her gambling addiction, hence the slot machine. Sure, it’s not the most “realistic” portrayal, but it does further her character and I think that is also a valid way to write it.

Overall, what I’d say is that I definitely agree with all of what was said above me! These are all valid points and the portrayal of scarring being used the characterize “evil”, or make them look scary, as well as just treating prosthetics as perfect replacements definitely don’t always sit right.

But also I would say that with portraying disability, don’t go the easy way out and basically get rid of their disability by giving them a perfect replacement with no issues that would realistically go along with this. Not just because it’s harmful and disability erasure, but also because it’s boring as shit.

Challenge yourself. Do some research. And most importantly, HAVE FUN.

-your friendly neighborhood tater

The Problem With the Eddsworld Fandom's Depictions of Red Leader/Future Tord, A Disabled Perspective

Disability is a contentious concept for most of society, with most either treating us with disgust, confusion, refusing to treat us as human, or to see our struggles as what they are. Ableism affects all people in many different ways, but as someone who focuses a lot of my energy in fandom spaces, the pervasiveness of ableism with how media and their fans interpet and react to disabled characters is a very personal situation for me. While many may argue that an ignorance to these topics in fiction has little bearing on real life, the prevalance of these tropes have echoed and led to feelings of othering for many disabled people, and oftentimes support the same notions that lead to the day-to-day ableism in our own personal lives.

In recent years, I have experienced this most often with the prevalance of negative disability tropes perpetrated by fanfiction surrounding the character of Tord, also known under the alias of Red Leader in some fanworks. It is a problem not just common in the Eddsworld fandom. A more recent, and much larger fandom in Mouthwashing also shares a common trend of repeated ableism in fan depictions and interpretarions of disabled characters. Most fan creators are unaware of these tropes and the harm that they cause, but as a disabled person, I am unable to ignore it.

For context on myself, you can call me Fish. Get it? Or"fish"eus? I like to think I'm funny. I am a mentally ill, disabled, and neurodivergent creative who has niche interests in representation in media and the intersection of intersectionality and fandom spaces. I experience chronic pain due to a multitude of conditions, all of which are invisible disabilities. I am NOT an amputee or have a facial difference, like the character I am analyzing. I can only speak based on my own research in my attempts to portray him positively, but I want to mainly focus on the ableist tropes I see and the real life effects they have. That is something I CAN focus on, because I've been dealing with it for years from conditions that came onset later in my life. I will be speaking from that perspective, but will be doing my best to try to educate on what I do know from my research to help authors, artists, and creatives create a better portrayal of him in fanworks.

The most common tropes I see with him are what I will call "The Disabled Villain", "The Innacurate Disability", and "The Ignored Disability". There are a few tropes in each, but for ease of organization (and the sake of your (and my) time), I will be talking about them together in these sections. There are also overlaps in many, but I will define the main issues with them.

The Disabled Villain

James Bond, Wonder Woman, The Witches. You name it. You have most likely seen this trope at work in cinema. A malicious evil-doer is revealed to have a "horrid" face symbolic of the true evil within their soul, while the beautiful, able-bodied hero is meant to stop them. It's a trope as old as time, one that goes back to even Plato. Tropes are tropes, people subvert them, so a few cases down the line may be excusable. But that has not been the case For many years, the most prevalent form of representation for disabled people was in these villains. Imagine if the only representation you had for yourself was narratives surrounding how the way you look or what your disability is and have it only be equated to evil people. It leads to a villainization of disabled people. People react to facial differences with disgust, because they are "shown" that it is "evil", or "ugly", or equal to being a horrible person. As stated by The Nora Project, "According to the book Disabilities: Insights from Across Fields and Around the World, disabled students are two to three times more likely to be bullied in comparison to their nondisabled classmates. The disabled villain trope contributes to this phenomenon in overt and subtle ways. For example, the trope implicitly encourages fear of disability and difference, while validating, and even elevating, those who fight against the evil, Disabled Villain. Bullying based on fear and disdain is almost a natural consequence of the trope when viewed in this light". Another big issue is that disabled characters have not been given space to exist outside of villainy. There are not many complex narratives surrounding them. This leads to our disabilities being downplayed, us being dehumanised, and we are seen more like props in real life, or simply tools to achieve a message in a narrative.

Tord's disability is never explicitly shown in the show. It is something more prevalent in Fanon, specifically in fanworks that focus on the "Future" era of the show's timeline, where the narrative and outside discussions on the show implies a high tech society, potentially dystopian, potentially a consequence of his actions. These ideas have taken a life of their own in the fandom, with many creators fully expressing these ideas. The problem arises when Red Leader falls in line with this trope. In many works, he is the sole disabled character, a figure of pure evil, or given little nuance in the narrative. Artists illustrate his scars as bright red, crimson, or, in TBATF, green. For some reason. In this way, they attempt to highlight the villainy by equating him with common symbols of evil: facial differences and disabilities. Unfortunately, these are not just symbols. These are conditions and scars that real people have, which the fandom tends to ignore in favor of dramatization.

This was a trope I most commonly saw explored in fanfiction when I first joined in 2016/17. The show, unfortunately, subtly and accidentally perpetrated it by having the only character visibly and irreparably "damaged" by the giant robot fight be Tord, despite the fact that Tom, who had a whole missile directed at him and got buried under a house, was fine with at most a leg injury and a cut on his arm. Luckily, we have grown past the need for ableist tropes, and the faults of the show can be left in the past!

... Not.

Disability tropes have simply evolved in how the fandom treats Tord. Even if it is now done with more consciousness and sympathy towards his character, ignorance still prevails. Let's talk about common pitfalls people fall into when writing him.

The Inaccurate Disability

In fanon perception, Red Leader is an amputee with a high tech prosthesis and a facial difference resulting from burn scars. Like many disabled characters, he suffers from a collective fandom lack of research. But never fret! That is what I have subjected myself to for the past four years, so your friendly neighborhood disabled Fish can tell you how to right your fandom wrongs! Just kidding! Take this as a pointer, and do your own research.

As is common with fictional prosthetics, his arm prosthetic is treated as a perfect fix for his amputation. It acts just like, if not better than an actual arm. The issue with this is that is isn't realistic. Yes, I know, I'm criticising Eddsworld fanfiction for not being realistic. STAY WITH ME HERE. Once again, if it was one instance, or a few, that explored prosthetics being incredibly functional in science-fiction, then it could be a cool concept. But when every sci-fi work has it, then that is no longer a concept. That is a misconception. And I have interacted with people who believed that prosthetics were 100% functional! The thing is, like all disability aids, it does not suddenly make us able-bodied. For example, I have ear defenders that I wear when I experience pain within my ears. But that does not mean my hearing will now become normal, and I will no longer experience pain from the sound I'm hearing. What WILL happen is that I will straight up not hear you. Like, literally. Can you repeat that? I had my ear defenders on. Oh, you're saying that my ear defenders aren't prosthetics and are not a fair comparison? Well, that's fair, but take this as an illustration of a disability aid and how they differ from able-bodied experiences. Also, many prosthetic users do many things without their prostheses, and some even prefer NOT to wear them. Blogs that explicitly cover disabled representation, such as @/cripplecharacters, have posts that cover WHY many amputees are not fans of this trope. The problem comes with that it erases disability, and yet also treats us like we are given a space at the table of representation. It's just another way that authors avoid actually doing research.

Other things that people tend to ignore are how burn scars, or any scars, would not only appear on a character, but also affect them. I have seen, aside from skin tones that looked like they were picked out of a crayon box instead of what would appear on a person, teeth exposed, wounds that look as if they are fresh from the explosion YEARS after they occurred, and what I like to call "paper shredder" scars. Because instead of them looking like burn or shrapnel scars, it appears as if his skin was put through a shredder. Once again, another consequence of the show's at most-30 second scene with questionable decisions that made massive ripples in the fandom. With the injuries Tord received, it is most likely that he would have two kinds of injuries: a burn on 18% of his body (minimum, based on rule of 9s), and/or shrapnel scars from debris. While shrapnel scars would manifest as darker scars, the burn scar would likely be a hypertrophic scar, as "70% of patients develop hypertrophic scars following burns" (Finnerty et. al). The scars, when healed, are warm toned on the boundaries of their areas and cool in between. When on a pale skintone, they are not too dissimilar, and would therefore not have such a drastic color difference as seen on skin. They would also not go down to the bone or skin, as that would be a completely different kind of injury, and are also commonly done to make him look "scarier", which then aids the Disabled Villain trope. It also treats these scars and injuries more like a work of fiction, rather than something that many real people have experienced, adding to continuous misinterpretations of real life disabilities and facial differences.

For writers wanting to include consequences of burns, what would be more likely to be affected are his hearing, vision, and nerves on the right side of his face, as burn scars can go as deep as nerve endings. Also, burn scars, especially third degree burns, require treatments, such as burn-specific skincare. Scars, especially burn scars, can affect you and become disabling. For artists, the main thing I don't see artists do is draw him with damaged hair follicles. Burn scars damage the scalp and eyebrows, preventing hair growth. I am sorry, but he would not still have fluffy, luscious hair. Do not kill me. He just wouldn't. And if you are saying that he had it in the show, I can't hear you because my ear defenders are on, but I hope you heard me, as we've gone over that the show is inaccurate and we should do our own research.

Even well intentioned authors and artists ignore many aspects of the disabilities he would likely have!

Which brings us to the last trope...

The Ignored Disability

Many well meaning people intend to give him nuance by trying to avoid the Disabled Villain trope. Accidentally, however, they end up completely ignoring his disabilities instead.

Just like the high-tech prosthetic, the real disabling aspects of having a disability are at best rarely mentioned. I have seen, in some fanworks, that he goes straight from amputation to having a prosthetic. And that is where his disability ends. Because the prosthetic ends up being a fix-all situation. Authors refuse, or forget, to include aspects of amputation, such as the healing process, stump or phantom pain. Artists will cover up his scars with a helmet or a mask, another trope that undermines his disabilities and attempts to brush it under the rug. I understand that there is a discomfort for able-bodied authors in thoroughly exploring how a character feels about their disability. That is something I think we should. Avoid. If you're not familiar with the experience of being that minority, you do not need to add commentary on it. And if you do, and it just falls into more negative tropes, I will send a salmon cannon at you (/j). However, I do not agree with brushing every disabling aspect of his life under the rug.

People can assume it's not a problem, like it isn't something blatantly apparent. But, if you assume that disability and being disabled is not a "big thing", you end up where your medication is denied because your insurance refuses to see your common procedure as not a necessary medical intervention because you're "too young". And that is not fiction. That is what inspired me to write this essay, because the day that I got that news was the same day I sat down and told myself that I needed to share my perspective on the perception of disabled characters by honing in on one of my favorite characters and how the fandom treated him.

Disabled characters deserve to be included in media, disability and all, with care given to how their life would operate as a result and what they would experience with their specific disability. That's why many people recommend sensitivity readers who can give proper insight upon that disability and can advise people to properly portray it.

But if you cannot afford or access that resource, what can you do?

Fish's Non-Cohesive List of Ways I Tried to Write Tord as a Non-Amputee Without a Facial Difference

Do research!! The more you are to try to understand what you are writing about, the less you are to misinterpret or misrepresent it.

Look into resources that focus on portraying disabled characters, especially with those you wish to write about. Read blogs, research tropes that are common in disabled characters, and hell, read medical journals. They can provide great insight (<< nerd who likes reading medical journals)

Include more disabled characters. Make the other boys be disabled! Want to be canon compliant? Create OCs who have disabilities! I have a bunch! It's 2024! Be cringe and be free! The character's disability would go against the traditional narrative form of "usefulness"? I'm an animator who can't wear headphones and a theatre performer who can't physically handle the volume of a band. And yet, we find ways to persist, to exist. We will always find our way to live in the way we want to, in whatever way we can.

Look into disability activism. Learn the difference between the Medical Model and Social Model of disability. Know what an invisible disability is. Listen to us when we say that we don't want to be treated as special or an inspiration for simply living (inspiration porn). The more you are aware of what we struggle in real life, the more aware you will be to not repeat those mistakes in your fiction.

Write what you can. Highlight little talked about aspects of having a burn scar or being an amputee, such as the recovery, or treatment for the chronic pain, or how different he would be in battle due to decreased depth perception. As a disabled author, I have personally touched on the experience of gaining a disability later in life, and how he copes with it. Now, not all of y'all can do that. But that is a personal experience I do have, and it is something I have highlighted in my own work. So, while I couldn't tell you the ins and outs of having a burn scar or a prosthetic arm, I could describe the shock and frustration that comes with suddenly experiencing difficulties, or even being unable to do what you had done before.

I ask that, if you are willing to do better, or to start on the right foot, you take what I have written, reflect on it, and treat disabled characters, and in turn, disabled people, better from here on out.

Fiction is not reality, but the way we deal with it is reflective of who we are and what we believe. The boundary for our own personal being does not suddenly stop within fiction. When we interact and interpret it and create for it, it is integral that we remain conscious that bigotry runs rampant, albeit often as an unseen force, within fandom spaces, and do our best to counteract that.

I have doubts that the new eddisode will treat this topic with the same respect. I hope you can all go forward with what you have read in this WAY LONGER than I expected essay, and do what those grown British men cannot. Even if they erase it, retconn it, or do not treat it with respect, let's all go forward and do better!

As for always, you can discuss more in the tags or my inbox!

I hope you have a wonderful life,

Fish

[exgirlfiend]

thinking abt swaine and I just don’t think there’s any Good Faith in depth analysis of his character so I’ll be the change I want to see in the world and do it. get ready for a Long One

first of all, he doesn’t leave in spite of marcassin, he leaves BECAUSE of marcassin. he’s not selfishly leaving him behind for his own gain, his leaving is directly tied to his love for his brother. he doesn’t want to get in his way, because he’s not going to be the sage, marcassin is. he’s not going to be the emperor, marcassin is. all he’s going to do is Get In The Way of that. and he doesn’t feel like he can help him anymore (the emperor telling him that marcassin has nothing to learn from him + marcassin seemingly being Bad at Magic around him probably confirm this. he’s not helping. no one needs him there.) so he thinks he’s better off just staying out of his way so he can’t hinder him anymore. he loves his brother and wants the best for him, and in his mind the best thing for him would be if he Wasn’t There to mess everything up. is it right for him to have left marcassin all alone for so long? obviously not, but this was a 15 year old kid who felt unwanted and unappreciated and like he was just getting in the way of the person he loved the most. yeah yeah “I think he acted this way bc he was literally 15” is a cheap defense, but he was a kid impulsively making a bad decision that he thought was right. yes it was selfish and he DID also want to try and prove himself as not being a failure to his father (who he very much thought hated him and wanted him gone anyway; we know this wasn’t completely true because the emperor immediately asks what happened to gascon when he finds out marcassin is the emperor in the future and calls swaine his beloved son,,, but gascon certainly didn’t feel loved in that way and one has to wonder why) but. in the end it was all for marcassin. and marcassin wanted him to stay so badly, and he was trying so hard to get him not to leave, but swaine didn’t feel like he wanted him there, because why would he? all he was doing was forcing him to practice magic, which he obviously wasn’t enjoying and was actively pretending to be bad at for a reason that gascon couldn’t figure out (to spite him? to get him banned from helping him? because he just doesn’t care? he doesn’t understand that he’s trying to get him to STAY because why would he ever want that?). all he was doing was getting in marcassin’s way, and in his mind that must have meant that marcassin would want him gone too.

and like. I DO think that he made the wrong choice and there were so many other options that would have been less harmful, and he did ultimately pick the one that would benefit himself more than anyone. but he had no way of knowing that he was leaving marcassin alone. he was supposed to be leaving him with their father, who could teach him better than he ever could. how was he supposed to know that he would die that exact same day? he likely didn’t even KNOW that the emperor died right away either, because who was gonna tell him? he’d likely already left autumnia by the time the news got to him. and at that point, he might not have had an easy way back.

and we SEE that he’s absolutely desperate to get back to marcassin, leading him to literally follow oliver and esther into al mamoon just for a CHANCE to get a ticket onto that ship. he even says that “it’s all for him” when confronted. even with the worst form of heartbreak (need I remind you that he had a nightmare?) all he can think about is his brother because he NEEDS to get back to him more than anything. we don’t know how long he was heartbroken for or how long he had a nightmare or how long he’d been trying to get back to hamelin. he likely was too stubborn to go back right away, but…how many of those 15 years were spent desperately trying to claw his way back and being denied at every turn, both from his own lack of restraint and from others telling him he couldn’t? is it any wonder it took so long, based on how many obstacles we can SEE were standing in his way? also, when he steals the photo of marcassin from oliver, he refuses to give it back even when he’s not heartbroken bc he “can’t have it making the rounds”, since (and this was kind of lost on me bc I already knew who marcassin was prior to playing) they only know that he’s the sage; they don’t know that he’s also the prince. and the sage is just the “prince’s servant”, anonymous, unknown. except if you have a photo showing you exactly what he looks like and who he is. and swaine KNOWS what happened to the sages. he knows they’re all either heartbroken or dead from shadar. and these kids want to drag marcassin into helping them fight him (but nobody stands up to shadar and lives. nobody). he’s trying to protect his brother from them and from shadar. he so very clearly still cares about him and wants to keep him safe even if he’s not in hamelin with him. he’s looking out for him.

and on top of that, we’re SHOWN that he regrets his decision. he knows it was wrong, even if he can’t admit it. he tries to convince gascon not to leave when they’re in the past. he’s had time to think. he’s not an irrational and impulsive 15 year old anymore. he knows that marcassin ends up heartbroken. he knows WHY marcassin was pretending to be bad at magic. he knows that marcassin didn’t want him to leave. and he knows that he can’t change the past but…well he has to try, doesn’t he? maybe things can go right this time if he just explains things to gascon. he didn’t understand. he was always so stubborn. but maybe he can spare his brother the suffering he put him through if he just…tries. and it doesn’t work. of course it doesn’t.

he never apologizes (that we see). I’ll give you that. he should and he doesn’t. but it’s so clear that he regrets it. that he wants to apologize but just. can’t. because that means acknowledging that he hurt his brother and he just…can’t accept that he could do that. in their dotdd argument we can SEE that swaine is trying to rationalize what he did. he was just getting in marcassin’s way, and that’s all he does, he holds people back. he knew marcassin could do well, and he didn’t need to be there to hinder him any further. him leaving was a good thing, wasn’t it? he’s trying to convince marcassin, yes, but…maybe he’s trying to convince himself of it too.

and in regards to how he acts towards marcassin after coming back: “he calls him a ‘sniveling little wimp’ and says he’s ‘more trouble than he’s worth’ even AFTER being told he’s brokenhearted” yes! he does! but can you imagine leaving everything behind, being all alone in an unfamiliar place, being heartbroken, having a literal nightmare possessing you, all for the sake of trying to help your brother in your own flawed way, just to come back and have him tell you that he has no gift for magic (when the whole reason you left was bc he has a gift for magic and you don’t)? to have him basically spit in your face like that? it’s selfish and petty, yes, it absolutely is, but have you never said something mean in a moment of anger? of course he would respond that way. he speaks first and thinks later, it’s what he does. and I do think that marcassin deserved to be mad at him and yell at him and take out all of his buried anger and resentment on him because he definitely did the wrong thing and hurt him, and he doesn’t even seem all that outwardly apologetic about it, but…I can’t say that I blame him either. I don’t know what I would have done in his shoes.

and then he leaves marcassin again. and of course he does! he’s traveling with these two kids that are trying to stop shadar and he’s SEEN what shadar is capable of. he watched his father die at shadar’s hand. he FOUGHT shadar himself alongside these kids. he can’t just…let them go by themselves. he could stay with marcassin, and he’d probably be safer if he stayed with marcassin, but he can’t bring himself to send these kids into danger by themselves. he cares about them too much. yes, he just came back, and yes, he has to leave him again so soon but,, they come back to marcassin multiple times throughout their journey. he’s not leaving for good this time (they talk and work together during the clarion event! we see them talking on the iron wyvern! marcassin joins the party!). but he has to finish what he started. and y’know maybe he’s using chaperoning them as some kind of selfish way to make up for what he did to marcassin, because look, he’s not leaving them, he’s protecting them, he’s their guardian, he’s doing everything right this time. can’t you see that he’s doing everything right this time? and maybe it’s just him trying to Prove something to himself but…is that really so wrong? is it a character flaw to…want to improve? to try and do better when given the chance? we see time and time again that he’s Afraid and hesitant and cowardly and he screams when things get Scary and yet he always stands his ground and follows right behind them. these are his friends and he’s tired of running and he’s going to stand by them every step of the way. I don’t like father figure swaine but…I do think he sees himself as their older brother (whether they also see him this way is. probably unlikely). and he’s not going to leave them this time.

and on that note let’s talk about how he acts after the vileheart fight. esther and drippy make it clear that he keeps running away, so clearly he HASN’T improved, right? he’s still running away from his problems. but he straight up tells us WHY he keeps running away: he’s not helping. him being there isn’t going to make oliver wake up. and that SCARES him. oliver has saved them time and time again, and he can’t return the favor. he’s right back to feeling completely useless and he doesn’t know what to DO. but he never goes very far. it’s clear he’s not actually running away from them (esther is always able to find him and bring him back. he’s just leaving the city and that damn room for a bit). but suddenly he’s a scared 15 year old again and he’s incapable of helping the people he cares about and no one wants or needs him around anymore. and he’s falling back into his old habits. and that’s terrifying. but he does something different this time: he STAYS. he stays when vileheart shows up. even though they can’t win. even though oliver might not wake up. he fights with esther anyway.

and yknow what? he’s mean, and he argues all the time, and he always says the wrong things at the wrong time, and he pisses people off. those are true statements. I won’t try to rationalize or explain to you why he’s actually just ~misunderstood~. he’s a cocky jerk. he has genuine moments where he shows that he cares. he says nice things. he also says rude things. he mostly says rude things. he’s burying a lot of his softer feelings under a layer of snark and deflection. I find that endearing. not everyone does. it’s whatever.

I could keep going but I just. head in my hands. I care about him so much he’s so important to me. and yeah you may think I’m being too soft on him and giving him too much credit and maybe he deserves a way more critical and mean analysis that shows what a real jerk he REALLY is but. I genuinely think he’s trying. I see so much of myself in him. and it hurts that no one seems to want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

[nikalaeva]

How to Make Romantic Fantasy Interesting

SJM made it... ugh. Okay, you're only interested in fairy sex, without doing any worldbuilding, plot, characters' development and depth. Then let the relationship be a conflict for the story.

Imagine if Rhysand had to go against laws and traditions for the love of Feyre under threat of punishment or even loss of power. Feyre is the savior of Prythian. Marriage to her is desired by ALL the High Lords, including Beron (they're fae, why can't they have polygamy?). And let Feyre's opinion be ignored, to show how deeply rooted the patriarchy is - magic and the land always chooses men.

Feyre (proudly): "Fuck your traditions. I'm a free person, not an appendage to your dicks"

Tamlin (and others): "Sorry, Feyre, but you can't abolish the centuries-old order. There is no such thing as a High Lady"

Rhysand (tries to be a cool bitch): "Come with me to the Night Court. I pass the law, and you become High Lady, Feyre Cursebreaker"

Feyre (burns him with gaze): "And when are you going to apologize for UTM, asshole?"

Rhysand (still trying to be a cool bitch, but is ready to fall at Feyre's feet): "Well..."

Feyre (even more proudly): "Well, fuck off. What do I need your stupid Lady titles for? I'm a Cursebreaker, and Prythian will remember me by that title, not as someone's wife"

Rhysand (whispers pitifully): "Damn, what am I supposed to do now?"

And Nessian? Damn, that's a perfect example of a misalliance. Nesta is the High Lady's sister. Sure, she wasn't born noble, but she was also Made and has valuable magic. Cassian owes his position to Rhysand, but for Nesta's husband candidates he's just a bastard. This could be a conflict: Rhysand as High Lord is obligated to provide her with a politically advantageous match (you know, Eris or Helion or even Tamlin).

Rhysand (truly morally gray): "Feyre, darling, I don't hate your sister. Nothing personal, just politics. She will be a High Lady like you, is that bad?"

Feyre (furious): "How dare you decide who my sister will be with? We are equal, and you have no right to decide this alone. (Smiles menacingly). Rhys, my love, if you poke your nose into my sisters' future, I'll rip your head off. Deal?"

But Nesta is agreed with Rhysand 'cause she was raised and prepared for it. And without bullshit like "I'm shitty and deserve someone like Eris". Let Cassian fight for her with arrogant nobles and Rhysand, reminding how he did the same for Feyre. And thanks to his efforts, Nesta will understand that she doesn't need princes, kings or even gods - she will be truly happy with man who endured all the mockery, learned to dance and courtesy, chose gifts from the heart, not just expensive ones, listened to her and cared about her.

Cassian (tries to be a cool guy, but hardly hear himself, his heart is beating so loudly): "Fuck politics. Nesta Archeron, you deserve someone who will love you not for your status, or your magic, or your relation to Rhysand and Feyre. I will love you whether you are queen or servant, good or evil, poor or rich. I will love you, not the power you wield"

Nesta (confused and touched): "Thank you, Cassian, but what about Rhysand? If he orders as your High Lord..."

Cassian (really a cool guy): "... then he is no longer my High Lord. I'd rather be your slave than his general".

You know what I mean?

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How will your pregnancy go ? (18+)

PILE 2 (PT.2)

They will organize the baby shower in your house to not trigger you. Everyone will respect your boundaries and love you even though  you can’t accept it because your brain is back on being a living hell. I just heard: ‘’ Ain't no way we are losing her. We love her too much’’ with a sad smile. That was a message from one of your future homegirls. When the dark cloud will go away, a sensual passion is going to bloom back into you couple. Before your sex life was a bit more immature in a way that y’all care more about a power play. Who makes who hornier, harder, wetter? Rough sex in public places. Quickes even in your bedroom. Now it is more sensual and slow, we can blame pregnancy but actually is admiration of each other and the realization of the depth in love for each other. I have a vision: You are getting undressed on top of your man. Your breasts are significantly bigger, you are taking in the weight you are supposed to, which means you are back to eating regularly, your face is glowing because the mirror is back (this is all the observation your husband makes while admiring you. He feels like the most rewarded man because he’s been longing for you but you were going through it so they give you the space to figure it out.). Your husband understands the huge value it is for you to undress in intimate matters after everything you've been through. A lot of caressing, a lot of moaning in each other's mouth, you are going to be riding him, a lot of love affirmation coming from him. 

L I F E S T Y L E 

Queen wands (reverse), moon (reverse) 

At some point in your pregnancy you are going to be convinced that nobody loves you and you are a burden. Back to your old habits but it is far from the truth, you are truly going to realize that around your 7 months. Whatever love feels like rn is a hint of the love that's going to pour upon you in your future. Their action, their toughness, the fact that they neve gave up on you and also never hold a grudge on the way you act is going to make you cry river at the most random time during and after pregnancy . Wondering what you have done to deserve so much love. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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[lilacsongs]

freddie's  face  lights  up  with  a  wide,  giddy  smile  as  he  revels  in  the  prospect  of  finally  getting  the  chance  to  collaborate  creatively  with  silas.  "you  know  i've  always  been  a  fan  and  now  i'm  the  biggest  fan."  he  declares,  his  enthusiasm  palpable.  even  before  their  paths  had  serendipitously  crossed  at  that  awards  show,  freddie  has  long  held  silas'  musical  talents  in  high  regard,  having  been  captivated  by  the  charm  of  the  other  man's  releases  over  the  years.  now,  to  be  granted  the  privilege  of  witnessing  that  creative  mind  in  action,  working  in  real-time,  is  a  thrill  that  freddie  can  scarcely  contain.  he  nods  solemnly  in  response  to  silas'  attempt  to  reassure  him,  though  the  looming  fear  of  potentially  jeopardizing  his  entire  career  persists  within  the  depths  of  his  mind.  but  there's  nothing  that  can  be  done  to  undo  the  past,  and  freddie  knows  in  his  heart  that  he's  not  letting  go  of  their  relationship  no  matter  what  the  disapproving  outsiders  may  demand.  so  it  only  leaves  him  with  one  path  ahead  —  to  let  things  run  their  natural  course  and  see  what  the  future  holds.  "i'll  still  have  my  number  one  fan  no  matter  what,  right?"  he  forces  himself  to  smile,  consciously  pushing  aside  the  catastrophizing  thoughts  swirling  in  his  head  in  favor  of  refocusing  on  the  present  moment.

without  a  moment's  hesitation,  freddie  accepts  the  passionate  kiss,  tugging  silas  closer  with  needy,  grasping  fingers  as  his  body  greedily  soaks  up  the  comforting  warmth  radiating  from  the  other  man.  this  maddening,  all-consuming  affection  is  something  freddie  has  never  experienced  anywhere  else  before,  and  it  had  initially  driven  him  to  the  brink  of  madness.  but  silas'  possessiveness  towards  him  is  not  foreign  or  unsettling  —  freddie  recalls  the  palpable  tension  that  had  crackled  between  them  the  last  time  the  pair  had  run  into  one  of  freddie’s  exes  at  a  party.  "i'm  yours  and  yours  alone,  baby."  he  reassures  his  lover  in  a  loving  whisper,  knowing  with  unwavering  certainty  that  they  have  found  in  each  other  a  once-in-a-lifetime  kind  of  love  that  can  never  be  replaced.  it's  an  exorbitant  claim  to  make,  given  their  relative  youth,  but  freddie  is  steadfast  in  his  conviction.  his  lips  curl  upwards  in  a  smile  at  the  confession,  those  three  little  words  that  he  will  never  grow  weary  of  hearing.  in  fact,  he  would  relish  nothing  more  than  to  wake  up  to  them  each  and  every  morning.  "not  as  much  as  i  love  you,"  he  murmurs  tenderly  in  return.

freddie has a way to him. he speaks the sweetest words that, on the spot, turns his insides into goo. whatever good deeds he accomplished in a past life to deserve his sweetheart of a soulmate must have been nothing short of saving the world from a certain end. he cannot explain how else he was granted the blessing of freddie's unconditional love. “ talk about pressure on my shoulders, ” he jests, however heartily agrees with the sentiment. time and time again, they'd talked throughout the night of their dream to work together, sometimes bringing in a guitar to their bed and merging their voices as beautifully as they did their bodies. the ensuing sore eyes and heavy limbs from the lack of sleep were worth it. there's no hesitation upon handing over the lyrics, which aren't particularly sentimental or deep, but still a glimpse into his soul, similar to all the words he puts down on paper. nevertheless, his boyfriend is the person he trusts above all else, and with every fragile bit of his soul, his heart, his entire being. “ freddie, don't pay attention to your phone. beyond us, nothing matters. fans come and go, as do work teams. music can be made from anywhere and everywhere, whether there's an audience to listen or not. ” for someone with a way with words on paper, he sure isn't the best pep talker. “ pinky promise, baby boy. ”

“ there's my boy. ” his pretty, pretty boy, gorgeously blushing. still so shy as if silas hadn't ravished him six ways to sundays just hours ago, before they fell into morpheus' arms, and on many, many occasions as many times as thrice in the same day. silas hasn't gotten tired of the man underneath him. each time he gets his hands on his better half, his hunger for him only grows, and grows, and grows. silas needs him, desires him with every fiber of his being every second of every day. he leans down to capture his love's lips in a bruising kiss, stealing the last breath from the younger's lungs. “ i couldn't bear to see another touch you. i can barely deal with the fact anyone did before me. ” it's irrational, he's aware. the past doesn't matter. everyone that came before they found each other doesn't matter. still, the thought sometimes drives him mad and fuels his possessive nature. but, he never takes his irrationality out on his better half, let alone holds it against him. “ if anything, it's entertaining as hell. ” soon enough, delusions would dissolve. freddie and silas are in it for the long run. forever, they promised. there would be no one else, and silas has already given some serious thought to ring shopping for the love of his life. “ only thing that matters is i love you. ”

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[itspileofgoodthings]

tags continued from prev post.

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[radmista]

I need white people to shut the fuck forever about how scars form and heal, and how they "aren't that bad looking" when talking to dark skinned people

Yeah a white scar doesn't look that bad or obvious on your white ass skin, but when I'm multiple shades darker than you a bold white scar IS PRETTY FUCKING OBVIOUS

[memories-break-our-fall]

hey I don’t like being a smart gifted kid anymore. can I please be normal I’d much prefer that

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x