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voidpetrova · 8 months

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everyone but you — kai parker x reader

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content warnings and genre: swearing, sex — fluff, smut

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synopsis: he hates everyone in the world but you

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you never thought you'd be drawn to someone like kai parker. he was manipulative, cruel, and indifferent to the feelings of others. but for some reason, you were different. perhaps it was because you were a supernatural creature yourself, and he could sense it. whatever the reason, he had taken an interest in you, and it had been both thrilling and terrifying.

kai had a reputation for being one of the most vicious and dangerous heretics in the world. he had killed his own family in the past, and he had slaughtered countless others since then. the people of mystic falls knew to fear him, to stay out of his way, and to never let their guard down in his presence.

as previously stated, you were different. you had met kai by chance, and he had taken an immediate liking to you. he had seen something in you that he didn't see in anyone else. maybe it was your intelligence, or your compassion, or your strength. whatever it was, it had drawn him to you like a moth to a flame.

at first, you had been hesitant around him. you had heard the stories about his cruel deeds, and you didn't want to get caught up in his dangerous games. but kai had sensed your reluctance, and he had taken it upon himself to prove to you that he was different. he had shown you a side of himself that no one else had ever seen. he had been kind, considerate, and even charming. he had listened to you when you talked, and he had made you laugh with his witty banter.

over time, you had grown to trust him. you had started to see the good in him, despite his dark past. you had even started to care for him, in a way that scared you. you knew that he was dangerous, that he could break your heart in an instant. but you couldn't help the way you felt.

kai had noticed the change in you, too. he had started to open up to you, to share his thoughts and dreams. he had even told you about his family, and how much he had loved them before he had lost control. it was a side of him that no one else had ever seen, and it made you feel special.

but even as kai opened up to you, his hatred for others remained unchanged. he still saw the world as a cruel and unfair place, and he had no qualms about hurting those who crossed him. It was a constant reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

one day, you found yourself sitting with kai on the roof of the salvatore mansion, watching the sun set over your little town. It was a peaceful moment, and you were content to sit in silence, enjoying each other's company.

“i hate everyone in the world,” kai said suddenly, breaking the quiet. you turned to him, surprised. “what do you mean?”

“i mean exactly what i said,” kai said, his voice cold and bitter. “there isn't a single person out there who i care about, who i would go to great lengths to protect. except for you, of course."”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “why me?” kai looked at you, his eyes serious. “because you're different. you see me for who i really am, not just the monster that everyone fears. you make me want to be a better person.”

the sincerity in his voice made you heart skip a beat. you reached out to take his hand, and he let you. it was a small gesture, but it meant everything to you. “i care about you, too, kai,” you said softly. “i don't want to see you get hurt."”

kai squeezed your hand in return. “i won't let anyone hurt me, or you. i'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. i promise.”

as the sun sank below the horizon, you and kai sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. for a moment, you forgot about the danger that surrounded you, the hatred that consumed the world. all you could think about was the person sitting next to you, holding your hand, and promising to protect you.

it was moments like these that made you believe that maybe, just maybe, kai parker wasn't beyond redemption after all.

as you sat there with him, the breeze blowing gently through your hair, you felt a sudden urge to be closer to him. you turned your head to look at him, and before you could even think about it, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. at first, kai seemed stunned by the sudden kiss, but it didn't take him long to respond. he started to kiss you back eagerly, his hand moving to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

your heart was racing in your chest as you opened your mouth to him, allowing his tongue to explore yours. every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire as you felt kai's hand move to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

as the kiss continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria wash over you. you had never felt this way before, so completely lost in a moment with someone else. you felt like you could stay there forever, lost in the warmth of kai's embrace.

but eventually, the kiss had to end. you pulled away slowly, breathing heavily as you looked at kai, seeing the desire in his eyes. before you could say anything, he kissed you again, this time more intensely than before. all of your senses were overwhelmed as you kissed kai, his hands running up and down your back.

unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you broke away from the kiss, gasping for breath. your eyes met as you silently communicated the desire to continue this stolen moment somewhere more private.

without a word, kai took your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, as he led you down the stairs and through the house. the familiar creaking of the wooden steps echoed through the empty hallways as you followed him, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. finally, kai pushed open a door that led to one of the guest bedrooms. the room was dimly lit, casting playful shadows across the walls and creating an intimate ambiance. his blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with a raw intensity that made your insides flutter.

as the door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed, charged with an electric energy. slowly, kai closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours once more.

his kiss was hungry, passionate, as if he had been starved of affection for centuries. the scent of him, a mixture of pine and a hint of magic, intoxicated your every sense, sparking an unquenchable fire within you. you fervently responded, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

every brush of kai's lips against yours was like a delicious torment, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you that burned hotter than any magic spell. his hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. you felt his lips travel along your jawline, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses. his hot breath tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but moan softly in response. the sound seemed to ignite a primal hunger within kai, as he pressed his body against yours with even greater urgency.

lost in a sea of desire, you tackled each article of clothing, needing to feel each other's bare skin against your own. with every touch, every connection, the tension between you intensified, pushing you both to the brink of sanity.

with a content sigh, you snuggled closer to Kai, feeling his warmth and his presence enveloping you. you were completely at ease with him, and as you gazed up at him, you knew that nothing could ever come between you. he bent his head, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “i love you, (y/n).”

the words were like a seductive caress, sending shivers down your spine and leaving you breathless. you felt his hand move to cup your breast, his thumb stroking over your nipple, sending a shiver through your body. you responded in kind, your hand sliding down to his waist, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes. you felt his cock, hard and pulsing against your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that this man, this beast, this monster, was yours.

with a groan, kai rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. his eyes were feral, his lust and desire palpable as he stared up at you. “i need you,” he growled, his voice rough and husky. “i need to be inside you.”

you knew that he meant it, that he wanted you to take him, to claim him as yours. with a small smile, you nodded, your heart beating wildly as you sank onto him, feeling the heat and the power of him.

for a moment, time stood still. you were lost in the moment, lost in each other, and nothing else mattered. it was just you and kai, two creatures bound together by a force that was both magical and all too real.

as you began to move, the world faded away, leaving only you and kai, together in a perfect harmony. the sound of your flesh meeting was like a symphony of passion. the smoothness of your skin against his, the way your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces, was a blissful harmony that seemed to soothe the very essence of your souls.

you felt his hand move, his fingers tweaking your nipples, sending a surge of electricity through your body. you could feel the heat of his skin against your chest, the rhythm of his heart against your cheek.

for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, lost in the feeling of being completely and utterly surrounded by kai. there was no world beyond him, no past, no future, just the two of you, intertwined and bound together.

and then, as if on cue, the world reappeared. the sound of birds chirping outside, the faint scent of flowers wafting in from the garden, reminded you that you were not alone.

you looked down at kai, seeing the expression on his face, the lust and desire still burning in his eyes. and you knew that this was a bond that would never be broken, a connection that transcended time and space.

“i love you so much, (y/n).”

“i love you, too.”

with a small smile, you leaned in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss that was filled with love and passion. and as you did, you knew that nothing could ever come between you two. Not the world, not the past, not even the future.

you were his, and he was yours, forever and always.

#tvd #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries angst #the vampire diaries smut #kai parker #kai parker x you #kai parker fluff #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut

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nightwings-robin · 4 months

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Some of y'all act like Tim hated Jason when Tim was Robin and Jason was still dead but I disagree.

Not a lot of people do this but I've seen it enough times that it's gotten to bother me a little bit.

Let's take a look at some early Tim opinions on Jason.

Detective Comics (1937) #618

"Just a boy like me... One day I'll be as good as Jason."

This issue came out in 1990, so it's rather soon after Jason died and Tim was introduced (which happened in 1988 and 1989 respectfully). This is what Tim thinks about Jason very early one. This doesn't read as even remotely like hatred to me.

But wait, there's more!

The very next issue shows Tim having sympathy for Jason.

Detective Comics (1937) #619

Tim is noting the similarities between Dick, Jason, and himself. This issue is in the same arc when Tim's parents get kidnapped and his mom is killed. He has sympathy for Dick AND Jason, who both lost their parents. Tim is faced with the same pain and it shows his compassion for Jason.

Now this isn't to say that Tim was unaware of some of Jason's problems and maybe did blame him for his own death a bit, as shown with this panel:

Batman (1940) #455

Tim knew that Jason had times of anger and says he won't let that happen to himself. I don't think Tim is being quite fair here in claiming that he won't let his anger get the better of him like Jason's did, but Tim is hardly the only character to think this way about Jason and, again, this doesn't read as hatred to me. If anything, to me this reads as a character with preconceived notions about how another person died and not wanting to make the same preconceived mistakes as that person.

Is he being a bit harsh and 'holier-than-thou' here? Yes. Do I think this is hatred or some other malicious view of Jason? No.

There is also that time Tim hallucinated Dick and Jason, and they gave a sort of "pep-talk" to him about being Robin.

Batman (1940) #456

These are Tim's own thoughts manifesting through Dick and Jason. I do dislike that he imagines Jason blaming himself for his own death but think about why Tim would think this about Jason. Tim never met Jason. Wasn't there when he died. He only knows what he read and what he was told about Jason from other people. People like Bruce, Dick, and Alfred. And while those three loved and cared for Jason, they also unfortunately reinforced the belief that Jason was responsible for the Joker murdering him. It's not great but it does stand to reason that Tim would think this about Jason.

But it's not all bad stuff. Tim imagines Jason cheering him on alongside Dick:

Batman (1940) #456

Tim imagines not just Dick but also Jason telling him he can do it. That he can figure it out and be a good Robin. I feel like if Tim really did hate Jason, he wouldn't imagine Jason rooting for him.

Tim goes on to imagine Dick and Jason later helping him out with a fight:

Batman (1940) #457

Again, Tim imagines both Dick AND Jason encouraging him during a battle. He imagines that they both want him to succeed as a hero. Why would Tim want Jason's approval if he dislikes Jason? Because he doesn't dislike Jason. Tim respects him enough as Robin to think that he wants Jason's encouragement.

and then at the end when he officially becomes Robin:

Batman (1940) #457

"Dick made it a symbol... Jason gave his life for it. Failing them... what they fought so hard to build... worries me."

Tim sees being Robin as not just carrying on Dick's legacy, but also Jason's. He wants to live up to Jason just as much as he wants to live up to Dick. He wants to be a Robin that both of them can be proud of.

Like none of this says to me that Tim hated Jason. Did he look up to and idolize Jason the way he did with Dick? No, but that also doesn't mean that Tim hated him.

I get the feeling that Tim viewed Jason's death as a tragedy but since they never met, he didn't have any personal feelings about him, only wanting to live up to the Robin name that Jason left behind.

Now I DO think that Tim did eventually end up hating Jason after Jason came back and tried to kill Tim and others multiple times but this post is specifically referring to the time before Jason returned from the grave.

And I guess I should make it clear that I've not read every single comic issue of Tim Drake ever so maybe there are moments that refute my claim that I just don't know about. I'm simply going off of issues that I have read and I've only read Tim's very early days as Robin.

Feel free to disagree and add on if you want.

#tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman and robin #dc comics #I just get annoyed when I see people say that tim always hated jason even back before jason came back. like... no he didn't #likewise I've also seen people say that jason was tim's robin more than dick was and... that ain't it either #but I didn't touch on that in this post because it was already getting long #I want to know other people's opinions though so feel free to add anything if you want!

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ladyluscinia · 6 months

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Ugh I'm still thinking about that damn tweet so...

2x08 Reaction #6

Ok, so this is not a screed against people posting about or hoping for Izzy's return - whether in joking denial or genuine belief. Like if that's what makes you feel better after the finale, you are entitled to all the posts, fix-it fics, etc.

But.

I really want to push back on this idea that it's this obvious thing canon is supporting.

This is not another Lucius situation. Like. It's just not.

Look, when Lucius was "killed" at the end of S1, it was a joke everyone was in on. He got tossed over the side of the ship with a little "fwoop" and a literal shoe spinning in the air. His "offscreen death" was confirmed by a guy who could not have known what happened after he fell. Of course he was alive.

Lucius's fake-out was so successful because it engaged with the genre of the show in a way that rewarded the audience for buying into the suspension of disbelief.

Izzy's death... doesn't.

Izzy dies from a stray bullet in a shot that you might miss on first watch. He's not doing anything important, or protecting anyone. It's random. They reveal he's injured and then make it back to the ship, only for him to give a dramatic deathbed speech. He dies on screen, and they immediately cut to his funeral.

This isn't the kind of death that fits with OFMD's universe. They tried to borrow a scene from Black Sails or something and just sanded down its edges. Killing a character in the main cast just because "it's a pirate show"? Really? The daring escape plan is real and dangerous and life-threatening in the same episode where Auntie survives an explosion, and we watched Zheng and Edward casually massacre their way through a dozen soldiers each?

I'm buying into the suspension of disbelief that our ragtag crew can escape scott-free because it's a silly romcom about a muppet guy where "things always have a way of working out in the end", and then the show looks me dead in the eye and says "Actually, no, this time the consequences are real. Sorry."

A bird landing on a grave doesn't change that?

Like... in Pirates of the Caribbean they can resurrect Barbossa from the dead like it's nothing because some of the first worldbuilding elements they introduce are a compass that points at what you most desire and gold that curses you into an undead existence. Of course necromancy exists.

OFMD had a guy turn into a seagull behind a tree for plausible deniability, a cursed coat rationalized as a peanut allergy, and the gravy basket which took place wholly in Edward's head. Resurrection would be a hell of a reach. Even if they did open S3 with it, it would be a retcon of Izzy's death, not a reveal that we all could have predicted.

Which does mean that pointing to vague tweets from the crew or likes of Witch!Buttons posts and pushing the idea "Look - they're telling us he'll be back!" leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Like... it's not set up as an inside joke this time. And especially if they don't get renewed - and they certainly seem worried - they should not get credited for leaving this particular beat "open" and just being thwarted by MAX or whatever.

Izzy dying right then, as shown on screen, was unambiguously their final beat.

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd 2x08 #izzy hands ofmd #ladyluscinia

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furiousgoldfish · 5 months

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I've been inactive lately, because I'm back at a bad place. It turns out that spending six months frozen in trauma affected me more severely than I would have liked. I'm bedridden, constantly in too much pain to do anything.

I've spent the first week of it in denial, believing that I will snap right out of it and be okay, but I can tell now that I'm going to be like this for a while. Even just getting up to eat something is now too complicated, the struggle of the day is just getting some food in me.

I'm trying to accept this and be okay with it. If I need to spend several months in bed before I can move again, and for a while my achievements will be that I managed to spend a few minutes outside, then what's so wrong about that? I don't need to feel guilty. I don't want this, and I didn't choose this, and I hate that life is just going by while I lie down, unable to do anything, struggling to eat. I've been through this before and it's only ever when I feel better, that I realize how bad it really was, how I was struggling to breathe, how much time I spent wishing my stomach didn't hurt from hunger, unable to fix myself a meal.

Even just writing it down makes it more down to earth. In my mind I'm still struggling with the shame of being inactive, but the reality of it is that I'm in pain, it's not something to be persecuted for. Isn't it interesting how difficult it is to feel compassion towards yourself, when no one else has ever shown it to you? I bear no hatred towards myself, but my instincts still jump to persecution and judgment, just because it's the only thing I've ever experienced in such a state.

I know a lot of people have their symptoms worsen during the holiday season, re-living all of the seasonal trauma and feeling like their recovery is going backwards. I hope you all experience compassion and don't feel that judgment towards yourself any longer, because nobody deserves that. Nobody needs to be persecuted for struggling and staying inactive, it's not even a choice. There's not even a point in it, because it doesn't make the suffering end faster, it doesn't make the person get active more quickly, it makes the whole thing worse and longer. It's not a helpful sentiment, it's just hatred, wanting a person in pain to feel even worse. And nobody needs that on top of already suffering.

#struggling with guilt #toxic shame #being inactive #recovery #healing #healing from trauma #trauma recovery #being sick and trying to not judge myself

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 4 months

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Finding character motivations for everything Talia Al Ghul does and says in Lost Days

People say she was manipulating Jason to be more violent but like... was she?? Why would she be doing that??? She spends years trying to heal him for Bruce and then tries to make him more violent towards Bruce because... ????????

I've read Lost Days a fair few times and it never felt like she was being cruel or manipulative and this has confused the fuck out of me for a long time. Since I'm going to be writing her into my Jason centric fic pretty soon, I figured it would be good to go back to Lost Days and really focus in on her and her character motivations.

This is a post because I do my best thinking through the act of writing essays, and figured someone out there might also be interested.

tl;dr In the text as written Talia does her level best to guide Jason to become a Hero again out of genuine compassion. It is her explicit goal to make Jason less vengeful, less violent, and more like the hero he was before he died. She is not predatory towards him, and the only times she works in ways that could be damaging to him are when she feels her own safety is threatened by him. Talia is depicted as a good but flawed person shaped by the trauma Ra's and the League has put her through.

So yeah, wildly over detailed analysis of everything Talia does and says during Lost Days under the cut:

Scene one: Ra's and Talia yelling dramatically on a lawn right after Talia uses a Lazarus Pit on Jason.

Her stated justification for doing so is "I did--what--needed to be done" (em dashes for choking). Considering she risked a LOT to do this, I figure she's probably telling the truth. She believed this was necessary.

Then we flash back to her first learning about Jason's death. She posits that his death will essentially break Bruce.

In the panels directly after this she's shown looking at a picture of Jason and Bruce, face in hands, clearly upset. Probably primarily for Bruce, but like idk she's an empathic human I feel like it's safe to say she's upset for the kid who died too, especially since the picture centers Jason prominently, with focus/close-up panels on both Bruce and Jason, with Jason's scanning first.

Then we have the sequence of her learning that Jason is still alive, through her agents who have been instructed to keep a very close eye on Bruce.

Her first big decision is to bring him to her Father. She doesn't make any attempt to hide him, so it's either a good idea to her or a necessary one. Ra's obviously wants to figure out how he managed to cheat death, and it seems likely to me, given that she's loyal to him, that she'd also want to do so. She doesn't seem to want him dead, even if she's at odds with him pretty much the whole time to one degree or another.

Then we get her investigating Jason's ressurection and the doctor she's got telling her about his brain damage and the Doc claims he's not getting better

We're just gonna breeze on passed that autistic affect weirdness...

She disagrees.

This is the third time now that Talia has had faith in the humanity and emotional capacity of people the rest of the League write off as being capable of nothing but violence. Considering she's been right the other times it stands to reason that she's right about this too. It also says a lot about her character that this is something she's repeatedly done.

She attempts to prove he's getting better by slapping Jason across the face, declaring, "He never fights back when it's me! Explain that! Never when it's me!"

This strongly suggests that she must treat him differently than the rest of the league, specifically that she treats him with more kindness and more attention. He recognizes her as someone safe, who he doesn't need to fight.

This is further backed up by the next page

Ra's then decides that all this has been a complete waste of time and demands that Jason be put out to pasture so he can't distract Talia from her work for the League.

During this argument Ra's posits that she thinks handing over a healed Jason would make Bruce love her, but that doesn't seem to be the case. I think Ra's is misreading her, in exactly the same way all of the League has been misreading everyone all issue: he's failing to understand that people are capable of actual love and compassion. He's interpreting her acts of kindness and love as something manipulative and selfish. Maybe that's something she believes or hopes for on some level, but it's obviously not her "real" motive here like Ra's thinks.

This is what makes her decide that it's necessary to make one last attempt to heal him, and get him out somewhere safer than with the League. It's a desperate last ditch attempt, but she's a competent motherfucker.

The rest of the issue is narrated as a letter Talia sends off with him in the bag of supplies she gives him. In it she says that she had other reasons for attempting to save him.

So, at the end of issue #1 we have three clear motives for why she healed Jason:

To heal Jason is to heal Bruce.

She has a basic sense of decency and wants to help a murdered kid recover. Jason healing is its own reward.

She wants to find out how Jason "survived" so that her Father might be able to replicate that for himself.

Healing Jason might bring her emotionally closer to Bruce.

ALL of these are based in love, and thus could qualify for what she meant in those last few lines of her letter. However, I think I want to emphasis that she almost certainly has to be including love for Jason himself, not just for what Jason represents to Bruce, though Bruce is still a huge focus for her.

And she didn't tell Bruce because Ra's might kill Jason. He doesn't want Batman to know he's alive, ever, and may very well kill Jason to keep that secret.

ON TO ISSUE #2

This is where it gets a lot harder to figure out why she's doing things.

Talia's first act is to refuse to tell Ra's where Jason is. Her second revealed act is that while tossing Jason into the ocean to help him escape she says this:

"Do not seek him out. You remain unavenged."

Third thing she does is check up on her loyal agents who tell her "We know where he's going You're not going to like it." This is immediately followed by the reveal that Jason is going to Gotham.

So uhhhh... Why doesn't Talia want him to go to Bruce now? Also, why does Talia think that being unavenged would mean Jason going to Bruce was a bad idea? Like how is the unavenged bit not a complete nonsequitor?

Cause the thing is, we the audience know what Jason is like in the future, Lost Days was written after UtRH, but Talia doesn't know Jason's personality, she's only met him while he was incapable of communication, so what reason does she have to assume this would impact him like this?

Hypothesis one: She knew about Felipe, thinks he killed him, and thus counts him as a killer of abusers, someone who would want revenge.

Seems pretty unlikely. There's absolutely nothing in the text to support this, it's completely made up conjecture. Also, she doesn't seem to think Jason is the type of person to do revenge all that harshly in later panels.

Hypothesis two: She's counting on the temporary adrenaline-rage-pain boost from the Pit to convince him to be mad about the whole unavenged thing.

Why tho? Like, for realsies, there's no reason for her to try to do this? If this is a plan to keep him away from Bruce, it's a dumb one, like why would that be her choice of strategy?? Also the letter contradicts this.

Hypothesis three: She believes it was wrong of Bruce not to avenge him, or at least thinks that most people would be incredibly angry to find they weren't avenged

Baring her just being fucking precognitive and knowing the future for no good reason, this seems like the most likely cause. Growing up in the League hasn't exactly given her a view of how healthy people handle their anger, and violent retaliation is a nigh daily obstacle for her to navigate. It means she told him that because she thought it was important and she probably always intended to tell him whenever he healed enough to understand it.

Hypothesis four: She assumed him finding out was inevitable, and wanted to do that in a controlled manner... uhhh... and the best controlled manner avaliable was... while flinging him off a cliff??? Instead of in the letter?????

Not buying this one.

We see Jason try to kill Bruce and then get him explaining himself to Talia.

That's... that's not how sociopathic works I'm pretty sure... whateves...

Talia seems to have believed there would have been a fight about the Joker, but not that Jason would have actually tried to kill him. Or at least not that Jason would have tried to really, truly kill him in such a cold, calculated way once all forms of Laz juice were out of his system.

So again, why the fuck was she preventing him and Bruce from meeting?! Would the Dark Knight not have survived a fist fight with an angry sixteen year old??

I don't get it. That's uhhhh- that doesn't make any sense to me. I guess she was just wary of how bad the confrontation might get, but not fully expecting this kind of rage? Maybe she was acting much more confident of her decisions in front of her father and was really worried about this outcome? I dunno, and that's all the evidence we've got!

And now we have a new problem! Why does Talia agree to help him?

She believes she's released a curse into this world. She believes that she has kickstarted a nasty cycle of violence spiral. She doesn't want to see Bruce hurt or killed by his kid.

So the only conclusion left is that she thinks she can better mitigate the damage by helping and misdirecting than she can by actually confronting Jason. Considering who she interacts with, that seems perfectly reasonable.

ON TO ISSUE #3

We get some proper answers here hopefully

Our previous idea about why she was helping him was correct, this is an attempt to keep him less violent, steer him towards other things, and let his desire for revenge fizzle or find a different target.

She's not giving him over to Bruce because Bruce would never forgive her for having kept Jason from him... And also Jason will fucking kill Bruce.

Make special note here of the idea that sex is why she isn't beating the crap out of this guy. Put a pin in that. It'll be important later.

Back down at the murder ranch, Jason finishes killing his teacher and then explains himself

I believe she's genuinely happy about this, because it is actually a step in the direction she wants him to take. He went from being completely obsessed with just killing the father who didn't avenge him, to saving a bunch of kids and delaying his own revenge goals to do it. The tin man IS growing a heart. Her plan is, miraculously, kinda working!

ON TO ISSUE #4

Further proof that her plan is working: Jason leaves Rip, the mercenary driver, alive. He's developing standards for who he is and isn't willing to kill, and those standards are evolving because he is being pushed outside his conflict with Bruce.

His treatment of the bomber's connection with the mob is further proof of this.

That little smile and her gently nudging him towards the idea that he's picking "old habits" back up is very telling. She's guiding him back to the path of actually being a Hero. I think this is meant to imply that Talia is deliberately throwing scumbags towards him to not only distract him, but also to remind him of the heroism he did before he died and give him new purpose beyond mere violence towards Bruce.

And again, her plan is working! He's doing hero stuff!

Aaaaand now we have another curveball. Why show him Tim?

Again, him finding out about this was probably inevitable. He seems more chill, the dark circles under his eyes are gone, I think she's hoping that while in the middle of a new investigation Jason will be in as good a place as she can find to tell him about this.

It's better than mid cliff dive, if nothing else.

Now, to head this off at the pass, because I've seen people assert this in other posts before: this is definitively, absolutely, 100% guaranteed, NOT WHEN TITANS TOWER HAPPENS. He hasn't even come up with using the red hood as a persona when she shows him this picture, so even if he let the extremely time sensitive bombing plot go for a day or two worth of private jetting to beat up the new guy, there's no way in HELL Tim would be able to recognize the Red Hood as Jason. Heck, Tim wouldn't even be with that set of Titans yet, the fucking HUSH plotline hasn't even happened yet!! Okay moving on...

ON TO ISSUE #5

Talia isn't in this one

Jason acts as a Hero. Tim man definitely has a heart.

I really like this plotline tbh, it's just great.

He kills all but one of the Russian mobsters that come to kill him and then he runs out of ammo on the last, and that guy offers up the Joker's location in exchange for his life.

This is when the Tin Man relapses.

ON TO ISSUE #6

CONTENT WARNING FOR DISCUSSION OF CONSENT ISSUES

He hunts the Joker down and fails to kill him. I want to emphasis here, that failing to kill the Joker is a failure to adhere to the morals that Jason has established for himself, and a failure to keep being an anti-hero the way Talia was encouraging him to be.

This is not him being a good guy. This is him getting worse again. This is him failing to care about the world and things other than his own revenge.

Once again he explains himself to Talia, and reveals that he's known for a while now that she's been stalling him.

And then they fuck, and Jason wakes up alone.

So what just happened and why?

First of all I think the fact he KNEW he was being stalled combined with his heroism prior to the Joker being brought up strongly implies that Talia's plan would have kept working and that Jason would have kept letting it work, drawing him more and more into just being an anti-hero. He has a heart, he has morals, but his rage for Bruce and the Joker eclipses those morals pretty completely. Talia's plan was always to guide him away from revenge and it might have worked if he hadn't run out of ammo at the wrong time.

Secondly, Talia has just been given a bunch of reasons to feel threatened. Her plot was revealed, and Jason no longer has reason to believe that she isn't an obstacle to his goals.

Considering the sheer amount of violence that Talia regularly narrowly escapes only through manipulation and leveraging men's emotions, it seems pretty reasonable to me that she'd assume she needed to do both those things in order to protect herself.

She tells Jason about Ra's death, claiming that she's angry with Bruce for that. I don't know if this is the truth, but it would serve this purpose either way. She's giving him reasons to believe she's still on his side. Then she gets emotional leverage on him by sleeping with him. Take that pin out of the fact that she didn't beat that other guy for talking out of turn to her because she was fucking him. Then she escapes while he's asleep and only contacts him again from afar.

She does both of these things because she is afraid that a freshly refocused on vengeance Jason will hurt or kill her if she doesn't. After all, she herself is a killer. Jason might just decide it's her turn to join his other teachers.

The scene of them sleeping together isn't framed as traumatic for Jason; he seems to be perfectly willing.

There two very important questions that need answered before we cast judgments though: Is Jason still a minor when this happens? How old is Talia in comparison to Jason?

The only indication of timeline that we have is that it takes place JUST prior to Hush, as the story ends with Jason meeting Tomas Elliot. According to the Batman Chronology Project, Tim should be 16 during the events of Hush. We know Jason is about two years older than Tim, making him 18 during this scene.

According to Dennis O'Neil "I’m pretty sure that Talia is still a young woman – young by our standards, not just her father’s." According to some random fucker on an ancient comicvine forum going by the handle "brock4618", O'Neil said in a different interview that she was 18 when Bruce kissed her and is about Dick's age, not Bruce's age. I can't find O'Neil saying that, but it does line up with the quote we know is real.

So this was a case of an extremely traumatized 18 year old boy agreeing to sleep with a woman in her twenties after he accidentally made her feel that she needed to use sex and emotional manipulation to protect herself from his possible violent retaliation.

This is still a deeply unpleasant situation, but it's so much better than the initial impression that I got!

CONCLUSIONS TIME

Talia healed Jason because

She's a kind and loving person, and was especially kind and loving when she was younger. She wants to help Bruce, she wants to help Jason, and she wants to help her father. She did it for love.

Talia kept Jason's existence a secret from Bruce because

Her father demanded she keep it a secret, then she was afraid Bruce would hate her for it, and by the time she ought to be warning Bruce about Jason, well he was a scary motherfucker and she was in too deep.

Is Talia portrayed as a sexually predatory monster?

No. A woman using sex to escape violence is not predatory; I will fucking fight you. That whole scenario was bad, but acting like she's evil for this doesn't pan out unless you disagree with some of the facts of the case. It also really doesn't feel like Winick intended for the audience to assume this was predatory. Jason never seems uncomfortable with the fact it happened, and he even gives Jason a bit of beard scruff to help convey that he's older now. (it uh... it didn't work. Because I thought Talia was like 52 at minimum. Also just the timeline. But that was the intent I feel)

Is Talia attempting to make Jason more vengeful?

No. Exact opposite actually, every lie and manipulation is in service of preventing him from going on his vengeance quest, guiding him to be a better person, and protecting herself and others.

As a side note: I haven't touched the potential misogyny or racism angles, because that's simply beyond the scope of this analysis. I don't have the time, energy, or resources to dig into this myself, you'll have to find a different post for that angle, sorry.

So... yeah. That's my findings, I hope at least one other person finds this useful!

#jason todd #talia al ghul #lost days #nightmarishly long analysis that I hope is half decent lol

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thattimdrakeguy · 2 months

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Hey,

So if it's not too much to ask, can you give me a summary on the Core Four's personalities? I really wanna know for analysis reasons, I'm re reading all the core 4 young justice and teen titans books and trying to decipher my favorite one.

I can give you the personalities as intended by their creators no problem, Person Newtonote.

Now as you read you might think "Oh, hmm, that doesn't add up with what I've read" when it gets into the Young Justice and Teen Titans books, but that's 'cause different writers write different things, and some writers understand some characters better than others, and some of it is just plain character development, or in worse case writers doing what ever they please 'cause they don't care.

I'll let you judge when what happens.

Onto what you've asked though, I'll try to keep it simple as I can while still being detailed:

Tim Drake:

My personal favorite, that much is likely obvious.

As intended, he is an idealistic young boy, and dreamed of Robin as an even littler boy (he's pretty small for his age). He's clever, and resourceful, and thinks very very highly of the legacy of Robin. It's his heart though that got him his job as Robin, and his compassion and genuine passion for the role of Robin. And he displays what many may call boy scout tendencies. Even admitting to original Robin Dick Grayson that he enjoys helping old lady's cross the road (or something like that.)

Being raised in private schools, without a lot of friends (He's shown having no friends until he goes to public school to my knowledge), he's a pretty naive and oblivious, trusting person. And it's through out his journey's he has to learn how dark Gotham City can get. Though compared to the other Bat-Family members of this era (90s) he's very much the heart and light-hearted youthful energy to it.

His social ability is mostly perfectly fine, he's no complete weirdo. Kid can get friends easy peasy. Easily likable to folks. Endearing. But he has an oblivious side, and can get ahead of himself. Has a habit of getting spiritually adopted by people who instantly want to protect him. Anyone from Batman, to former CIA agents, and even villains. He's just got that babyface on him, and button nose.

He also deals with anxiety in terms of being Robin, being worried that he may be stripped of the job, or let people down, or mess something up. And sometimes that lends him having a lot of insecurities about himself. While having some prior training in martial artists, and implications of having taken gymnastics, also a former boy scout, he still doesn't naturally take to the role like all other Robins around him. Which means he has to try a lot harder to have his keep.

In the Bat-Family in this era (the 90s) he's the heart, and baby to everyone. They're uber protective of him, and take him out of the action when they deem it to be too much for someone like Tim. Within Young Justice he puts on a heavy Robin persona to hide what he's really like. Making himself out to be a more Batman-esque mysterious leader.

When really, he's a dorky, fanboy, who loves Kaijus, Crocky the ??? Crocodile I guess (Basically Barney the Dinosaur), super heroes, cars, Warlocks and Warriors (Dungeons and Dragons), sports, comics, Sci-Fi, fantasy, and cartoons. Self-admitted geek, with some popular interests in there.

Think of Tim as sort of Autistic kind of. He's never officially said to be. But when you read his origin, it's definitely a legitimate way to interpret him. Though I believe his uniqueness is intended to really be molded by Tim's passion, and obliviousness from a lack of parental figures in his very young life.

Tim is supposed to be an optimist, as told by his creator, but to be real a lot of writers seem to forget that, even when making jokes about how he's optimistic compared to others. I think sometimes the writer's own cynism leaks out into him. So remember that...despite a lot of writers forgetting it. Be better than them.

Cassie Sandsmark:

My personal second favorite member, but, please, make up your own mind here.

She's a rebellious teenage girl, and tomboy. She stays up pass curfew to party, but is at heart a good hearted individual who truly wants to help. This comes at odds with her stubborness and headfirst attitude. She hates being treated as a kid. And shows a great deal of intuition and cleverness. She's also a babysitter. Seemingly a good one too.

Her need to prove herself can put itself ahead of her own logic though. And she buts head with her very stuffy mother who doesn't appreciate Cassie's care-free nature. She means a lot to Cassie, and Cassie wants her approval. Cassie's natural being is...very much in contrast to what her mother would prefer though. It's fun.

A lot like Tim she's also shown to be a Super Hero fanboy. For her it's specifically Wonder Woman and the Flash, while with Tim it's basically anyone the writer decides he hasn't met offscreen yet.

Through her journey's she learns to contain herself though, and better use her powers.

Bart Allen:

The most teenager-y teenager you ever seen. He has ADHD, but not the uber-hyperactive, talkative, hugger you see in some more modern misunderstandings of him.

Originally he was pretty quiet. Super popular in his school. Girls loved him and considered him a pretty boy. But in reality he has no social knowledge, because he was raised in basically a video game for two years. He's essentially an alien learning to fit in with human civilization. So he's incredibly reckless without intention. It takes him awhile to truly process the concept of death and related repercussions. So he's sort of dangerous.

He can be quite surly, and mean spirited on occasion. But like most heroes, he has a good heart that comes out in the end. It's just simply the 90s and being Anti-Authority is the norm. His name is Bart after all. Underneath that is a young man who does sweet things when he has it in him.

Just don't think of him like a baby like how a lot of people make him out to be. He's a teen's teen.

Original Bart, like original Tim, and original Cassie, to me, is the best version of the character. The most nuanced, and interesting.

Oh, and minor violent streak on Bart too. Started a fight before, and stuff like that.

He cares inside. That has to count for something right?

Kon-El:

Hot-Headed pervert. Over-confident. Fame hungry. Lady magnet. Stubborn. Head first. Sort of a prick. But again good hearted.

I haven't read him as much as the others, because I don't personally care for him. Then in the early 00s with Teen Titans they decided just to make him an angsty young Clark, which is personally boring.

I don't have a lot of great things to say about him. His solo is very dated, and overtly sexual. Something I have no interest in reading.

He's at his best in Young Justice though, where he isn't written as jail bait by a writer who thought it'd be great if he dated grown women to fulfill teenage boys dreams. Instead you get to have fun with a very flawed character without the distracting perversion...mostly.

Punk styled. Loves dressing like a punk. Until he doesn't. Ruh-roh.

Again though, different writers write different things. They catch onto different things more than others, some are plain neglectful, others don't care, some want to change stuff for the sake of it. It's comics, you'll be lucky if it's consistent.

But on my years of studies, all that is what the character's where intended to be by their creators. So a lot of it is a starting pad, but it's also the purest form of them you're going to find.

#Tim Drake #Robin #Cassie Sandsmark #Wonder Girl #Bart Allen #Impulse #Kon-El #Conner Kent #Superboy #DC Comics #Young Justice #Young Just Us

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altraviolet · 4 months

Text

Ch 47 sneak peek 👀

Hello and happy winter* festivities** all!

*summer for southern hemisphere **normal day for those without festivities right now

I'm hoping to finish Ch 47 before 2024, but wanted to share a lil sneak peek! Everything below is subject to change, of course, but as of now Ch 47 will be told from Rodimus's point of view.

In case I don't see you again til 2024, wishing you all a very happy seasonally appropriate greeting! All the very best! Excerpt beneath the cut >D

Rodimus awoke in a tangle of tentacles. He stretched, careful to avoid scratching Soundwave's visor. “Mmmm.” He wiggled and settled down against the smooth protoform of Soundwave's body. Soundwave didn't stir.

The low hums and cyclical pumping of the Lost Light's utilities were louder here than in Rodimus's room, courtesy of the torn walls. The sheeny curtain had pulled back, revealing little crystals glowing faintly in their nooks and crannies. With soft metallic ssshhhks, Soundwave's tentacles repositioned themselves around Rodimus. They always moved so their cool sides coiled against him. Rodimus wasn't sure if they got too hot when touching him, or if they liked being warm and moved to distribute his heat evenly.

Rodimus traced a burned section of tentacle with a fingertip. Its metal was darkened and marred by tiny ripples. The segments were offset, preventing the tentacle from coiling properly. It bent into a soft corner. A rounded corner.

Rodimus snerked to himself.

It wasn't really a laughing matter. Rodimus gently pet the darkened metal. Its tiny ripples caught in the mechanisms of his palm. He'd dealt this damage. He felt bad about it. But... not guilty. Soundwave didn't deserve to be burned. But Rodimus wouldn't fault himself for his body's defenses.

Besides, Ratchet had a plan to fix it. They were gonna fix it, just like they'd fixed the holes in his chest, and they'd both be good as new.

"A virus.”

“Compassion.”

“I only want yours.”

Rodimus grinned to himself. No one had believed him when he'd said Soundwave would find his place. Hell, there were times when he barely believed it. But he'd done it. He, Rodimus, proud co-captain of the Lost Light, had shown this emotionally-starved, devastatingly loyal Decepticon there was another way. A better way. And now Soundwave was flourishing. He had friends, and a really weird but wonderful hobby, and tendrils that could leave a mech gasping in pleasure. And holy hell, Rodimus never would have thought that last thing was a thing, let alone it could be true, let alone he'd be the mech gasping.

“Preferred: Rodimus, happy.”

The grin faltered. Of course Rodimus was- well, he was happier. That was good. And of course his new bedmate would want him happy. That made total sense. That's what a good friend would want. What a lover would want.

What a lover would-

Rodimus wrenched himself from that train of thought. He scanned the room, desperate to distract himself. The desk was cluttered, projecting a dim data cascade in Soundwave's native cyphers. The makeshift shelves were crammed full of random tools and crystals. Bare wiring poked through in places, backdropped by shadowy pipes and conduits.

It was barely recognizable as Drift's room.

Maybe it never had been.

…

Oh, it had been. It definitely had been. And he'd been on this bed before, tangled up in limbs, feeling serene. Feeling at peace. Feeling like the mech beside him was a beacon, and for the first time since their initial jump, he could see where he wanted to go.

That bright and gentle feeling tightened in his chest.

No! Shut up! It's not happening again!

Rodimus knew he should get up for his own good. But his frame would not obey. He found himself burrowing harder into Soundwave, willing that cool body to shield him from those memories. Beat them away. Bury them. Better still, forge new ones. He wanted – he hated that he wanted – Soundwave woven into the fabric of his reality. Heavy in his arms and weighty against his plating. Too weird and wonderful to be washed away by the tides that pushed and pulled at Rodimus.

Soundwave stirred. His visor onlined with a flash. It displayed a rapid pulse. “Rodimus: agitation?”

Rodimus's field perked up out of habit, ready to push the concern aside. Dammit. Soundwave always knew when he was lying through his field. He didn't like it.

“False field express-”

“It was automatic. I didn't mean it.” Rodimus shoved the false cheer away. His true feelings seeped out. He couldn't hide them, but that didn't mean he had to explain them, either.

Soundwave's tentacles snapped up, tendrils sampling the air. “Rodimus: afraid? Danger in vicinity?”

“No,” said Rodimus. He parted the sheeny curtain and pushed himself off the bed. “Old thoughts. Don't worry about it.”

A tentacle wound around his arm. “Rodimus: needs...?”

“Breakfast.” Rodimus pulled away. The tentacle's biolights slid under his fingers, one by one. Blue light peeked between the bevels of his joints. “Why don't you sit with Nautica and Blaster today? We don't want people getting suspicious.”

The tentacle retreated. “Affirmative.”

Rodimus returned to his room via their secret door. He gave himself a big smile in the washroom mirror. A big, huge, totally happy smile accompanied by a forceful spoiler raise. Rodimus scrubbed faint, dark paint marks from his plating and polished his biolights. The glass of his body dulled when pressed against Soundwave's for hours. Rodimus didn't bother to wonder why. The explanation was always dimension stuff.

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vamxxpire · 4 months

Text

Was trying to think of the reason of the Love Triangle between the boys and Mare and I think I got something down lol.

— Kilorn is the representation of Mare’s life as a Red and of her past, being the reason why she’s so overprotective and constantly wanting to keep him safe. But also not wanting to pursue him romantically because her life as a Red was horrible, and because of how much hatred he harbors for Silvers and that of the unknown (back when he found out she’s a Newblood and didn’t react positively). Her rejecting Kilorn is a milestone for her, refusing to let her hatred and anger of Silvers and of her identity as a Newblood consume her.

— Maven represents War and the present, a person she is afraid of becoming because of the similar circumstances they were both brought into. They were used and turned into people neither of them wanted to be, making Mare afraid that she’s capable of becoming just as bad of a person. Because of war shes made to change, forced to do things she doesn’t like. She pursues him at the start because it’s easy to find comfort in war and anger, especially when it’s painted with rose tinted glasses. But through the series she shows distress in Maven, each time distancing herself from him. In a way, killing Maven signified letting go of the war. That it doesn’t define her.

— Lastly Cal, being Peace and the future. From the very start we see Cal as someone soothing, the person who hears Mare out and offers her the job position in Summerton. Mare is hesitant to seek him out romantically and at times loathes him, but he is also the only other person who understands her. Cal had constantly shown support and compassion to both Silvers, Reds, and Newbloods through the series (showing distaste when Mare kills Silvers, sneaking out at night into red villages to be a better king, etc.) He is a constant warming presence for her, even if she doesn’t seek it. Though Mare sometimes clashes with peace, as getting it is not easy by no means. In order to achieve peace sacrifices have to be made, and you have to let go of war. Seeking Peace in the midst of War can be hard, especially when you’ve faced so much tragedy. Coming to terms to it after war’s over is even harder. But in the end, Peace is what she needs the most to overcome the trauma and grief. It’s the one she stays with by choosing Cal.

#:3 …#my godd I feel sick #was trying to think of ways to apply their dynamics in the fanfic series since I’m switching between cal-maven-mare #but oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!#anyways #im so normal about them.#red queen #red queen victoria aveyard #cal calore #mare barrow #book series #maven calore #kilorn warren

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flock-talk · 6 months

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Do you think your birds are empathetic to you when you're upset? The other day I was upset by something and started to cry and the moment I started actually crying my bird flew over and snuggled right against my neck. She's not usually a velcro bird either, her cuddles always have to be when she wants them. It melted my heart and I wanna know if others have experienced something similar.

They definitely have and there’s actually a decent bit of science to suggest that they are empathetic creatures!

There’s a few studies that have demonstrated their capacity to show compassion towards other birds even if they get nothing in return. In some cases one bird would have no access to snacks and the other bird did, the one with snacks would willingly pop snacks through the gaps in the enclosure to share them with its neighbour without ever being shown or taught how to do that.

Even with things like allopreening it’s suggested that they may do it purely to help eachother out and build stronger relationships. Not for the need to copulate or seek self preservation.

Parrots themselves do have a limbic system which means they experience true emotions, and to couple with that they’ve been shown to grieve the loss of a flock member. Many parrots have been spotted selflessly comforting one another through preening and cuddling behaviours for the theorized reasons of making the other bird feel better.

While more research is needed to confirm current theories it does seem pretty strongly suggestive that parrots are capable of recognizing stress and discomfort in eachother (potentially people!) and show empathy by offering comfort or help through hardships.

#parrot behaviour #behaviour #science

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

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You know what I rarely see? In the show after wooing Alec, Magnus is not shown as overly invested and it always appears as Alec reaching/apologizing/moving the pair along. Which was definitely a writing/directing choice. But what I’d like to prompt if it suits you, is Magnus being the one to apologize or to reassure Alec that he is important and not temporary-I’m team immortal but this convo certainly should happen. I liked the way you had Alec be angry in that prompt fill about his birthday and Magnus had to own up to that. If this isn’t your thing no big deal! Hope the weather is nice where you are and nightshade has enough pets and treats for the day!

i believe in 'no partner is perfect' and while i don't tend to write the angstier couple stuff 'i like my malec happy' i don't mind occasionally dipping my toes into partner angst (with an immortal happy ending)

this particular fic isn't about about immortality but it's about haing two people who have fundamentally different lifestyles having a miscommunication that devolves and while the argument is based on the show scene, it doesn't follow it perfectly. nor is the actual argument written. just the aftermath.

my thoughts are that magnus tries to spoil alec in season two still but it's more intimate and offscreen and he sort of in season 3a but magnus relies heavily n his magic to spoil alec and he kind of is spiraling all of season 3 tbh. they just really were sprinkling angst on malec like it was salt and they realized the show was bland.

all they did was get oversalted content which got salty fans, since they forgot to add actual herbs and spices.

it's a bloody hot day okay. i love the sun as much -nevermind apparently this is a lie-

so i don't hate the sun okay. i enjoy sunshine in specific environments. the sun is not a tyrant devoid of compassion.

anyways i live in a desert because its whats best for the people i love but give me mist and foggy days and give me winters of waist deep snow i can fall in. oceans so cold your lips go blue and rivers so deep and clear and still cold with melting ice.

if people are going to send me 8-10 feet to the bottom of the lake because they lost their electronics. it better be cold and clear. not warm and murky. (this has only happened 3 times but i have a preference).

So I made Say breakfast and nightshade breakfast and then I made @saeths breakfast a few hours later so i made an extra egg for nightshade to tempt him to eat another bowl of kibble.

so i fed nightshade twice and forgot to make any eggs for myself ^_^ so he is plenty spoiled (don't worry his egg was made without cheese and salt).

also the reason i'm awake is because he needed snuggles and after that he wanted to play in the pool and then i was too awake to bother

but that's our wednesday so far and i'm getting my work out of the way so i can focus on writing and house things.

<3 lumine

Magnus is ready with another quick retort when Alec’s face goes blank for a moment.

The argument fades from Magnus’ mind in an instant, because while this is the perfect moment to land another barb, the words die and his sentence stops, ending with a snide comment he doesn’t really mean.

“That’s fine Magnus.” Alec says and he’s not angry, which is worse. He sounds tired and yet professional. His manner restrained and placating in the way he does when he no longer has any fight left and he just wants to retreat and lick his wounds.

Wounds that Magnus caused.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts, because he didn’t intend to get so upset but Alexander just shakes his head.

“You’ve said your piece, Magnus. I get it.” Alexander sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he shuffles. “I messed up, again.”

Magnus winces, because he’s begun to feel more like a scolding mentor than a partner.

“I need to get to the Institute—” which makes sense, the argument started as they both got ready for their days. “I’ll—” and Alec hesitates and then shrugs, “I’ll see you tonight.”

—

Magnus waits until it’s dinner time and then portals to the Institute, already preparing words to once again explain that it’s not Alexander, it’s just not time yet.

He opens the door to the office without knocking and steps in.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts and then he hesitates.

Because for once, Alexander’s eyes don’t soften when they meet his. They remain cold, devoid of the warm ardor they normally contain but once again, without anger. Only an empty tiredness that Magnus longs to chase away.

“Do you have an appointment today, Magnus?” Alexander asks, setting down his pen and turning off his tablet with a sigh. Even upset Alexander will still give him his full attention and Magnus steps closer to the desk when Alexander continues, “because I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for a meal, or a conversation if it’s not official. So, if you don’t have an appointment, it needs to wait until I’m off.”

Alexander doesn’t mention coming home like he normally does, and Magnus suddenly misses it, with a deep lonely ache.

It also reminds Magnus that despite how often Alexander drops everything to join him, his boy is being worked to the ground and also driving himself to his limits in his pursuit of building a better Institute. Alexander is struggling to create ties between an Institute and local downworld leaders that would be revolutionary, with a sincerity that is unmatched by anything Magnus has ever seen.

Of course, he’s exhausted, and Magnus feels hollow now, remembering their fight all over again with a new clarity.

“No darling, it’s nothing official. I’ll see you tonight—” Magnus pauses, wanting to offer to summon Alec something to eat or drink, but it feels too much like an emotional bribe with how shuttered his boy is. Alexander nods and gives him the same perfunctory, polite smile he gives his siblings when he’s too exhausted to deal with them and doesn’t know what else to do.

It cuts Magnus to the heart to have that same expression directed at him, when he’s supposed to be safe for Alexander.

Magnus can’t handle the idea of reaching out only to be shied away from, so he runs from the possibility and instead summons a tiny flower to land by Alexander’s pen when the door shuts.

No one in the Institute seems to notice anything is wrong. Magnus gets a few strange looks, but he quickly realizes that it’s because everyone expected Alexander to be leaving with him, like his boy usually does.

Magnus feels cold and it’s with determination that he sends out an emergency message.

—

“I became stagnant in my old, single age.” Magnus bemoans, “I spent so long on my heartbreak that now, with a man I adore over every living being, I keep pushing him away.”

“Truth potion?” Catarina offers but Magnus shakes his head. Alexander deserves Magnus explaining this without the aid of something to help his thoughts form, even if it’s a trick Magnus has used continually and without remorse on himself.

This is different though because Magnus wants to become aware of what is wrong, not rely on a potion to figure it out.

“He wants to move in.” Magnus starts, about to launch into it when Cat laughs, interrupting him.

“What do you mean he wants to, he already has. Or did you just move him in on the sly and forget to ask him if he wanted to?”

“Cat—” Magnus says hesitantly, “he’s never moved in. He’s the one who brought it up. I told him no.”

Catarina pauses and then she sighs, and she summons her favorite, light summer beer and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Start from the beginning, Magnus. I need details.”

Magnus does, realizing things that he missed as he’s explaining so many details that he just assumed and took for granted.

“I did wonder that the Loft hasn’t changed much. It seems more like Alec’s an addition to your things rather than his own person.”

It’s that comment that drives Magnus into a frenzy the moment he’s home.

Magnus doesn’t go overboard; Alexander wouldn’t want him to. Also springing this on his boy after the prior rejection will be too much like whiplash.

So, Magnus starts very small.

He finally creates the foyer he promised himself and Alexander he would make.

Alexander’s never pushed but Magnus remembers the tightening of his shoulders and the way Alexander will be too tired for anything but cuddles — rarely even hungry — after barrages of people through the loft.

The kitchen he only summons when Alexander asks, which is rare, so he makes it a permanent fixture and makes sure to hang an apron with little angel wings up. It’s with a pained smile that he sighs and wonders when he got so old that he forgot to enjoy life, and instead spent all his time focused on the past, just like Ragnor always warned him about.

Magnus doesn’t want to regret any time with Alexander, and he finds that he already does.

Not the time spent with his boy, but the time he could have focused on him more.

Magnus has spent so long protecting himself from losing Alexander, that he hasn’t noticed that he’s pushing him away, stopping him from coming too close.

Except Magnus has also bound him tightly.

Alexander sleeps more often in Magnus’ bed than his own. He’s rerouted his own schedule so he can take the last patrol before shift change, come to Magnus’ loft, write his report there and send it in, and be in bed for Magnus to return to.

Except for work, Alexander spends the majority of his daily life either in the loft, or with Magnus.

There are signs of him, all over the loft, but Magnus can’t look at a single piece and think, “Alexander picked that out.”

It aches in way that is almost visceral, because now that Alexander isn’t here, it’s only more obvious.

Magnus is chest deep in a drawer when he becomes aware of his boy stepping slowly into the bedroom.

“Is this a bad time?” Alexander’s tired voice asks. “I noticed there was a new door and tried to knock but the door just opened.”

Magnus wants to say something except he’s furious with himself and everything and the idea that Alexander saw a new door and knocked instead of walking right in, tears something in him.

They stare at each other for a moment, Magnus with his hands still wrist deep in the dimensional dresser, sure he’ll eventually find more than the sparse offering of Alexander’s clothes that he has.

“Where are all the clothes that you leave here?” Magnus asks instead of answering because he genuinely doesn’t know, “I was cleaning, and I couldn’t find them.”

Alexander sighs and Magnus just knows that he’s gearing himself up to — once again — explain to Magnus that it’s not about the clothes, before his boy visibly gets too tired. Instead, he just shrugs and potions to the paltry pile that Magnus has found.

“You have more than that!” Magnus exclaims, frustrated because he knows Alexander does. “That green shirt I got you that you loved. And those pants, the black ones with the umber stitching. The cream sweater I adore you in! That suit I had tailored for you in Milan and the other one in Hong Kong.”

Alexander sighs and he rubs a hand over his face, the stubble he normally shaves away in Magnus— in their bathroom, shadowing his face.

“Magnus, those don’t exist anymore.” Alexander doesn’t seem upset, if anything his face softens into an almost reluctant fondness, “you tend to vanish all the clothing you get me, some way or another. Mostly before fucking me. I tried to ask you one time where they went and you waved a hand and said, ‘another dimension, nothing to worry about’.”

“Surely that’s not all I said.” Magnus protests weakly.

“Well, you proceeded to fuck me unconscious so no, it wasn’t the last thing you said. But it was the last thing you said abut clothes.”

Magnus gives a flat chuckle and then sighs, snapping his fingers to clean up the mess.

“Have you eaten?”

“I figured I could grab something from the cafeteria when I head back. It’s fine.”

It most certainly is not fine, but Magnus doesn’t think coaxing Alexander into eating is going to work this time, which means that Magnus has accidentally undone weeks of effort.

Magnus doesn’t press, doesn’t remind Alexander that he can here. Or that, if by normal standards Alexander stays until he usually leaves Magnus, it would be the early evening of the next day.

“So, you were cleaning.”

Alexander is looking around, voice faltering but face devoid of actual emotions.

“I realized some things, after this afternoon.” Magnus admits slowly, “you’re the first person I opened my heart to, Alexander. In a very long time, I’ve told you that before.”

Normally, explaining things is easier but all Magnus can think is he’s not explaining it correctly.

“I know. But Magnus, you’re the first person I’ve ever opened my heart to.” Alexander interjects and he sounds raw and broken, like he’s been torn apart. “Doesn’t that get to mean anything too, to you? Because I don’t know what I’m doing, and you told me that there was nothing wrong with that. That I had nothing to feel ashamed about but now, it doesn’t feel like that.

"It feels like I can’t do anything right and I thought, I hoped something was coming together with us but now—” Alexander gives a heavy sigh and shrugs. “Now I don’t even know what I am to you anymore. Where do I belong, in your life Magnus? If you tell me where to fit, I’ll make it work.”

And that breaks Magnus’ heart, because Alexander was never meant to feel like he had to cut off pieces of himself to ensure Magnus loves him, that he has a place in Magnus’ life.

“Oh darling, beloved.” He murmurs and Alexander flinches, like it was a knife to his side. “You belong. The entirety of you. You belong in my bed because it’s no longer just my bed. How can I say it’s my bed when I lay in it without you and can’t sleep? When I reach for you in the night and can’t find you?” Magnus moves across the room with slow, purposeful steps and then reaches out to carefully — only because Alexander allows it — cups his face.

“Alexander, I have no excuses. My heart is old, and it is scarred and it is a wonder that you love me with all the cracks you’ve seen exposed. I don’t fear men or demons or angels, Alexander. I fear my heart being torn from my body and leaving me alive, an empty hollow cavern where it should be in the shape of you.

“I’ve always been too much, Alexander. I put my own fears on you, not that you deserved any of it, sweetheart. You’re right. I am your first relationship, and you grew up and live in a shadowhunter society. The relationships you've witnessed aren't similar to ours at all.

"You trust me to guide our relationship but I’m always encouraging you to ask me for things and you rarely do. I’m sorry, that you finally trusted me enough to ask me for something and that I broke that trust.”

And Alexander breaks, his eyes filling with tears and he coughs, scrubbing over his eyes because he hates being emotional during talks like these. As if Magnus will use the crystal sorrow streaking his face against him.

“I don’t understand.” Alexander murmurs against Magnus’ shoulder, “I thought this was already my home, here with you. I don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry Magnus.”

“Oh sayang.” Magnus whispers, eyes stinging because his heart is lanced every time Alexander apologizes. “You did nothing wrong. My heart was too scared to admit that you already were home for us, I pushed you away because I panicked. I’m sorry, my darling.”

Magnus is as tender and sincere as he can be, because he doesn’t want Alexander internalizing anything over this. Especially not when he realized that for Alexander, the loft already was home and he just wanted permission, for it to be official.

It’s endearing and sweet and Magnus presses a kiss to Alexander’s temple, softly and then harder when Alexander pushes into the caress.

"This is already your home. Where ever I am, will be your home." Magnus promises, "that will never change, my love. This is our space, for us to grow together and live together in.

Instead, Alexander tackles him to the bed and just lays there, pinning Magnus to the comforter as he snuggles into Magnus.

"Alexander?"

There is no answer, just a soft, exhausted snuffle and Magnus wonders how upset Alexander's been, thinking he was deprived of the home Magnus gave him.

He uses magic to change their clothing. More conversations and decisions can be made after rest and well, Alexander certainly isn't going anywhere and neither is Magnus.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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ikamigami · 3 months

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I miss Old Moon. At this point, Old Moon was nicer to everyone than New Moon is. He sympathized with villains, he actually CHECKED IN on his family- kept them in the loop about things- Told his brother that he loved him more than once every six months!!!

I WANT to like New Moon, but they're making it harder and harder to continue doing so.

And I think with Earth's therapy sessions going on, Old Moon could work through his anger issues & other trauma.

No one was given time to grieve. No one gets to talk about him because it makes New Moon uncomfortable- hhhhh How am I supposed to finish this "Sun-gets-hurt-BAD" fic if I can't bring myself to LIKE THIS GUY anymore?!

Old Moon wasn't bad person. That's for sure. But he was very abusive towards Sun. He loved Sun but he was showing it rarely. And believe me when I say that but I'm sure that Old Moon would totally blame Sun for what happened last year. Because OM already was acting as if the trauma he had to endure was Sun's fault. I don't miss Old Moon that much because he was unable to change towards Sun. And in my eyes it's important because Sun was the closest person to OM for goodness sake! And yet he treated villains with more understanding and compassion than his own brother. Nothing can excuse the abuse he inflicted on Sun. Showrunners were showing us times and times again that OM was unable to change towards Sun to the point that I didn't want to watch the episodes with him...

New Moon is like total opposite to Old Moon. I mean his actions are a total opposite cause he really is showing Sun that he cares about him more than Old Moon but when it comes to villains he treats them awfully. There's zero understanding and compassion towards them. Yes, New Moon doesn't realise that his actions affect Sun badly but because his paranoia is blinding him. I'm happy that New Moon doesn't blame Sun for anything that happened. Also New Moon is willing to change but he's too much focused on being not like Old Moon plus his paranoia is getting in the way.

Old Moon and New Moon has so much in common and yet they're so so different. New Moon has his flaws but I think that his willingness to change will help him change. Both of them realise the issues they have but Old Moon didn't want to do anything about that. He was unwilling to change. New Moon on the other hand is trying to be better. He's taking some actions towards that. The problem is that the actions he's taking are not the best.

And Solar the only one person who spends the most time with New Moon besides Sun is unable to stop Moon in his tracks because he is similar in the regard of paranoia and how he treats villains. Both Solar and Moon don't care about villains. Solar is just more calm. Which I believe that Old Moon would have similar approach.

Idk if Earth would be able to help Old Moon. He should had to be willing to take action towards bettering himself. And OM had really hard time with that.

I'm certainly mad at New Moon for being too pissed off at Sun for lying to him that he didn't care even to listen to Sun. But at least New Moon can apologize to others! Unlike Old Moon. He apologize to Sun once and it still was not that good. But I'm totally mad that he didn't apologize to Sun in his last message! Vsjabsksks

Both Old Moon and New Moon are pretty much egotistic individuals and that's why Old Moon was focused too much on his own pain and trauma to the point that he didn't care about Sun's well-being. Sun's psychotic episode wouldn't be that bad if Old Moon was taking care of Sun better. New Moon on the other hand can't extend his compassion towards villains. His compassion ends on his family. I think that it's understandable. He needs more time to learn how to be more sympathetic towards villains. But we need to understand that New Moon doesn't have any reasons to learn that. In his eyes it's pointless. They're villains who hurt his family so he doesn't have any sympathy for them.

But I think that if New Moon was shown why it's better to treat others even if they're villains more nicely, he would do that. I'm almost 100% sure that he'll learn things the hard way by losing Sun because of his bad decisions.

Anyway New Moon has flaws but I'd take him over Old Moon any day.

People can still like and prefer Old Moon and dislike New Moon. I also had a time when I was angry at New Moon with the way he was towards Sun. But when I understand him more now I can't help but to feel sympathy towards him. Unlike with Old Moon whom I tried to give benefit of doubt at first but later I found myself unable to sympathise with him. I don't hate OM though. But I'm honestly glad that the reset happened. Even if I really wanted for Old Moon to change towards Sun I doubt that he would be able. And Sun is affected by Old Moon's abuse to this day. And it still affects Sun the most. More than any other experience in his life.

Another important thing is that both Old Moon and New Moon has questionable morals but I think that people are seeing that more in New Moon because he hates their blorbo villains. On the other hand I still see that some people don't see how much Old Moon was abusive towards Sun which irks me tbh...

It seems that we have to agree to disagree. But that's okay with me ^^

In addition I say that New Moon's experience is pretty similar to New BM's and now New Eclipse's because all of them had their past be shown to them. They experienced their past in third person's p.o.v. It's very interesting and I think that it's intentional.

#ask #ask answered #mutual asks #sun and moon show #sams #sams moon #sun and moon show moon #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sams solar #laes earth #tw abuse #tw paranoia

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ccrites · 2 months

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it's a compliment, I swear

i absolutely adore freak!Soap and the thing that got brain worms wiggling was "I can make him better--" "Not if he makes you worse first."

there's zero plot yet, let's see how this goes

There’s something odd about being paired with this team.

There always is.

The last-comer. The new-comer. The new girl. You’re unsure if there’s disdain in their voices, it doesn’t seem to be. In the past, it’s been much clearer when they didn’t want you here. Others haven’t put much effort into hiding it either.

But you’re here, and it should feel great. This should be everything you’d ever worked for, placed atop the mountain you’d climbed, the mountain of success. Seeing the top, a something wrapped in a nice little gift wrap, screaming You’ve earned it, open me, while you still huffed and puffed with the effort you’d put into actually getting there.

But the mountainside is steep under your feet, keeping you from ever reaching that peak, always making you slide back down, a little further each time. The grip on your soles is never strong enough and your fingers bleed from the effort of holding on.

Perhaps that something is not even worth it.

You’re not exactly there yet, to find out if it is. Maybe you should give up, but you’re obstinate like that.

The bullets fly around you, voices scream in your head, the orders making sense for the mechanical machine in you they’d built, but not for the little girl inside, cowering in fear, eyes wide, brimming with tears, asking shakily What do we do now?

Your body moves. You’re the beacon of hope for these men (over-inflating your sense of importance much? maybe), when there’s no hope to be had.

But it’s never them you help, either. (That’s more likely)

(Not important enough.)

They’re so… untouchable. Inhuman. You’d think the machine in them had taken over, surpassing the man inside, killing the boy.

Maybe they’re monsters.

Maybe they’re heroes.

Either way, it hurts seeing their glacial eyes, listening to the gruff shouts, obeying their orders yet yearning for the compassion you had to show everyone to be shown back to you.

Your foot slips off the mountain again, and your nails rake against the slippery rock. You’ll fall if you keep wishing for shit you can’t have.

Not important.

Not worth it.

You run soundlessly through the macabre orchestra of pained shouts and stern orders, your knee guards absorbing the shock as you fall to the ground near the downed soldier, rushing to help. He yelps in pain as you peel off blood-drenched clothes, but you slam an open palm against his mouth, a hushed Keep it down unless you want to get us both killed, Corporal. The kid’s your age, you think, but he looks much older, with the way his face is contorted in pain, eyes scrunched shut, drawing lines of distress you know will, at some point, become permanently engraved on his face.

Growing old is a luxury, at this point.

You clean his wound and wrap it with gauze, pop out a pill to feed it to him dry and send him on his way to Medevac, they shouldn’t be far anyway. As you help him to his feet, the voice of the– your Captain crackles in your ear.

“No medevac for him, yet, soldier, we need all the firepower up ahead. We’re closing in on the target.”

“He’s gravely injured, sir-”

“If he can walk and pull a trigger, you’re sending him our way. Better yet, how ‘bout you join him, too. If he’s so injured, he’ll need a helpin’ hand. Understood?”

Your temple hurts with how hard you grit your teeth, but you utter out a clenched Yessir.

You’re unsure if you hear a faint smile in the ‘Atta girl he says lowly in your ear.

The target is not there when you reach the rendezvous point. You keep the curses you wish to spit out behind clenched teeth and sealed lips as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the dilapidated house. The man you’d helped, running on fumes and a stim shot, immediately separates from your hip to join his buddies– pardon, his teammates– on the other side of the room, the other part of the squad. So much for a thanks.

But your attention is pulled elsewhere.

You think you’re dreaming, at first.

He’s one of the machines. A depiction of a man, a painted facade of tan skin and quirked smiles, hiding well-oiled components, hard like steel, programmed for merciless killing.

His flesh is softer than you’d expect when your hands sink into the blood and viscera.

Not a machine, then. Your eyes flicker to the crimson-coloured serrated knife on the floor.

Must’ve pulled it out of himself, the madman.

The idiot.

“Should’ve–” he hiccoughs, as you work through meters of gauze and bandages, “Should’ve seen the other guy. Thrashed ‘is face up. Almost ‘ad ‘im.”

“The-” your voice catches as you look up to his face for a second. He’s smiling, the bastard. Blue eyes stare back at you, almost crazed. His teeth are dripping red as he runs his tongue across his lips and grins. “The target?”

He gasps out a wet laugh. “No, lass, but I got a bullet in ‘im, too. ‘Is lackeys are good, though.”

The Lieutenant barks a reproach at the downed man but stays out of your space as your hands work mechanically on him, focusing on keeping his blood in till the other medics arrive with a stretcher for him. You’re not following what’s going on around you, maybe you should, especially if the walls could collapse around you. That’s the last of your worries now. When you’ve got him stabilized, you keep pressure with one hand on his abdomen, right on the side. It looks sickening, the way his skin is torn on the sides, yet you can’t help but think of the photos you’d been shown, back in basic, of those old WW2 planes, riddled with bullets, holes in the steel that should bring them down, that flew back to base against all odds. Survived despite everything.

He’d stayed alive till you made it here.

There’s nothing to do, not here, not now at least. Voices talk and talk, and debrief, and plan, but you tune them out. Your free hand roams. and it’s not till the helmet is already off, unclasped and discarded on the floor next to him, your fingers threading through the sweaty matted mohawk, that you realize what you’re doing.

Your first instinct is to pull it away like the touch of him burned you, but he’s fast. Maybe it’s the stim shot (second one you’ve used, you only have one left, you categorize mentally, planning already for next time, when you’d need to be sure to have more) or maybe it’s the machine hidden behind the vulnerable flesh, but he manages to grip your wrist with impossible strength.

Your eyes meet, and something stings. It’s electric and painful, and you hate how vulnerable you feel, when he’s the one almost bleeding out under you.

His lashes are long and dark, eyes half-lidded, yet not sleepy. You don’t have to worry about keeping him awake. The blue in his eyes flickers with something dark, and you want to look away, but you can’t. Your own eyes, wide and alert, are stuck on him.

You’re stuck.

His hold tightens on your wrist as you try to pull back gently, a part of you still worried that he might go into shock at any moment, but you only manage to twist your sleeve uncomfortably, unmoving from his grip. Slowly, pointedly, his eyes move between yours and your hand. The hand that had been soothingly petting him not even a minute ago. The hand that had stuffed gauze in the hole in his body, knuckles deep, while the other squeezed the peroxide bottle on the wound. The hand that was still covered in his blood. His blood.

The seconds stretch agonizingly long as he pulls it closer, back near his face. The eye contact makes fire blaze in your stomach, just to the side, mirroring his wound like a cursed voodoo.

You’re frozen, unable to react, as he licks a stripe from your wrist to the tips of your fingers.

The trail he leaves behind is wet and cold, yet it blazes through your veins like liquid fire, keeping you immobile as he runs his tongue over your digits, perversely, lazily circling each of them–

Captain Price’s voice suddenly pierces the bubble, dousing you in cold water (you needed it, you were burning up).

“Get me Laswell on the line, now, we are packing up. Sergeant, you broken?” Price barks.

Your hand is freed, and as the other medics take over your patient– the Sergeant– your blood-soaked glove wraps against the wrist he’d been holding tight, a sickeningly sticky grip over where his warm palm had wrapped against your bare wrist. A memory to keep or to forget, an imprint to copy on your skin, or to soothe its absence.

Maybe it’ll bruise in the shape of his grasp.

“I’ll survive, little birdie patched me right up. She’s as gentle as it goes, Cap, finally had the chance to feel it first hand.”

You hold the retch in your throat, despite an awkward tingle in your chest. The praise feels crude, wrong, like the gift had been plucked off the top of the mountain and dangled in front of you, just as you were about to reach it yourself, damn it–

A heavy tap on your back almost makes you choke as he chuckles darkly, “Let’s hope you won’t have to feel it again, soldier.”

That night, as you lay on the thin cot, unable to sleep, you wonder who Price had actually spoken to.

#cc writes #john soap mactavish x reader #soap #it's a compliment i swear #cod #call of duty

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winniewells · 10 months

Text

unpopular HOA opinions

*edited to remove ableist language i.e word crazy*

Nina is not an asshole for being bitchy/apprehensive of Joy. Joy wanted her man, like why would Nina be nice??? Be fr

On that note, Fabian is 100% the asshole when it comes to his relationship with Nina and Joy. Mf led Joy on and flirted with her in front of his girlfriend. Nina and Joy should have collectively beat the crap out of them.

Mara is wild and not the moral compass the show paints her to be. Don't get me wrong, I love Mara but oh my god??? She sent pictures of Ms. Robinson and Mick to Mr. Sweet to make it seem like they had an inappropriate relationship and was just like "im sorry lol Mick u deserve better im just a mathlete"

Patricia in season one deserves to be smacked. Like I know that she was being gaslit like crazy, but she bullied the shit out of Nina and she should have paid for it a little bit.

Season three isn't bad because Nina isn't there. It just carries a less serious vibe and is more comedic. The mystery is also being shown to use through Eddie's lens who completely accepts the Osirian status while Nina never wanted to be the Paragon.

Victor had every right to hate Sibuna. Mf worked his whole for this shit only to have it all unraveled by the British knock off Mystery Inc.

Jerome Clarke is an AWFUL human being and he doesn't actually become decent until Mara dumped him. He might be funny but quit acting like he's a genuine person.

I love Jeroy but it SHOULD HAVE BEEN JARA

Amber deserved better.

Patricia is a bad friend for not noticing how badly Joy was hurting and for not helping her transition. Girl got KIDNAPPED dammit quit acting like things are supposed to be normal and don't let your friend act that way.

I love Fabina but they were never going to be endgame

Joy and Nina DESERVED to have a friendship with each other and we were ROBBED

#house of anubis #unpopular opinion #fabian rutter #joy mercer #eddie miller #nina martin #victor rodenmaar jr #amber millington #jerome clarke #mara jaffray #mick campbell #patricia williamson

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jewish-vents · 1 month

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My entire life, I've yearned for the kind of community the Jewish community and Judaism have provided me. I found out I had Jewish ancestry when I was a kid, I looked into it more later and realized my most recent Jewish ancestor (like three-ish generations back) was almost certainly forcibly converted out, and decided to convert to like. Make amends for that I guess and also because I really vibed with the holidays and how we turn up everywhere in history bc we keep doing cool stuff despite consistently shitty circumstances.

But I digress.

I have waited my WHOLE LIFE trying to experience the joy becoming Jewish has shown me, and that gets shit on constantly.

My sister has started making a truly obscene number of Jew jokes. My mom scoffs at all the 'nonsense rules' and has said repeatedly that she thinks choosing a 'restrictive' religion is dumb and I've made a mistake. She even said it's an insult to HER parenting skills that I would seek out religion after she tried to teach me to know better.

My dad is dead but I never ever in a million years would have told him even if he were alive, and my sister thinks it's funny to threaten to 'out' me as Jewish to his relatives even though they're basically KKK-adjacent so she actually enjoys threatening mg safety at this point. (Yay family right?)

My friends have turned everything into an Israel/Palestine discussion lately and I know damn well what they're doing when they start saying truly horrible shit about Israelis and looking at me. They get mad if I try to temper their extremism so I've given up. I barely talk to them anymore and I spend more and more time with other Jews from temple and I don't want to like. Isolate myself from all non-Jews I guess bc I've always felt like that leads to weirdness and perpetuates shit about Jews being unfriendly I guess idk?

Anyway I digress again. My point is I'm really sick of constantly being expected to tolerate it when people think I shouldn't be Jewish.

Other queer people think I'm somehow compromising my queer identity by being Jewish, leftists think I hunt Palestinian children for sport now apparently, right-wingers think I traffic good Christian babies for organ harvesting or some shit idfk, my friends think that if I'm not being more vitriolic in my hatred of Israel than they already are I'm some kind of secret rabid Netanyahu fan, my family think I've been recruited into a cult apparently and the only other people who show me even an ounce of compassion or regard are other Jews and Gd knows there's like ten of us and that number is unlikely to increase.

Just. Fuck. I've put blood, sweat, tears and money into this, I invested more time and emotional commitment into this than I have into going to college or choosing a career, I love it more than anything and have only loved it more the more I learned about it, and all I get when I express this or even just let slip that I am Jewish and chose to be, I get nothing but hatred. I will never understand how a religion that has spent all 5000 years of our existence minding our business and arguing about the same book over and over can possibly have offended this many people with our existence.

Dmn anon, that is a lot you're dealing with right now. I'm so sorry you're surrounded by people who clearly don't respect you. Because yes this is a lack of basic respect, and it is antisemitic. Now I don't know how old you are and how safe you are, but if you can safely do so, set very hard boundaries. Do not tolerate this amount of disrespect towards who you are. It is hard, and many of us have had to go through similar situations, as you can read all over this blog. But I think having to spend your life surrounded by people who make you feel unsafe and disrespected is worse. I know sometimes there are situations in which people cannot safely set these boundaries, I hope it's not your case, but if it is feel free to come here to vent again.

I know you don't want to isolate yourself from goyim. Many Jewish people don't want to. Sadly, when people disrespect us like this, they're the ones isolating us. It's not your fault. Seek people who love and accept you. Sadly, a good chunk of goyim won't - I'm not saying everyone, obviously, but a portion. Having a good Jewish support network seems to be more and more important, whether it's irl or online.

I hope you can soon be in an environment that's safer and more accepting

- 🐺

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #jewish convert #i feel like i need to clarify #while i said that a good portion of goyim are disrespectful and antisemitic #i dont mean every goy is #so if someone is coming in the comments to call me goy-phobic i assure you i do not have the patience to deal with that #i mean what i said #thats not an attack on goyim #its just an observable truth stated by literally every jewish person I've ever spoken to #if you feel offended at being called antisemitic try not to be antisemitic #like im sorry i sound so mad but i am just very tired of seeing my community suffer while everyone else just looks the other way

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daenerystargaryen06 · 19 days

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Times Daenerys has Shown Compassion

A Game of Thrones:

"She brought back a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables. Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know. While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she'd had made to her brother's measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon. She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he'd hit her. "How dare you send this whore to give me commands," he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet. The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. "I only wanted … Doreah, what did you say?" [..] "Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper." [..] "No one commands the dragon," Viserys snarled. "I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!" The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. "Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace." She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. "Look. These are for you." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IV

"Across the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men. I am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate. "Most of Ogo's riders fled," Ser Jorah was saying. "Still, there may be as many as ten thousand captives." Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne. "I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen," Ser Jorah said. "They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them." Behind them, the girl being raped made a heartrending sound, a long sobbing wail that went on and on and on. Dany's hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver's head. "Make them stop," she commanded Ser Jorah." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"The girl was trembling, her eyes wide and vague. Her hair was matted with blood. "Doreah, see to her hurts. You do not have a rider's look, perhaps she will not fear you. The rest, with me." She urged the silver through the broken wooden gate. It was worse inside the town. Many of the houses were afire, and the jaqqa rhan had been about their grisly work. Headless corpses filled the narrow, twisty lanes. They passed other women being raped. Each time Dany reined up, sent her khas to make an end to it, and claimed the victim as slave. One of them, a thick-bodied, flat-nosed woman of forty years, blessed Dany haltingly in the Common Tongue, but from the others she got only flat black stares. They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate. "You cannot claim them all, child," Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped, while the warriors of her khas herded her new slaves behind her. "I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do." Across the city, a building collapsed in a great gout of fire and smoke, and she heard distant screams and the wailing of frightened children." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"I will carry you, blood of my blood," Haggo offered. Khal Drogo waved him away. "I need no man's help," he said, in a voice proud and hard. He stood, unaided, towering over them all. A fresh wave of blood ran down his breast, from where Ogo's arakh had cut off his nipple. Dany moved quickly to his side. "I am no man," she whispered, "so you may lean on me." Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple. The three bloodriders followed. Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now," said Jhogo. "He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat." [..] "It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo. If I look back I am lost. "It was a cruel fate," Dany said, "yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh." The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. "Khaleesi," the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, "Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back." She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo." He was lying on the bare red earth, staring up at the sun." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

A Clash of Kings:

"We follow the comet," Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo's people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law. They rode by night, and by day took refuge from the sun beneath their tents. Soon enough Dany learned the truth of Doreah's words. This was no kindly country. They left a trail of dead and dying horses behind them as they went, for Pono, Jhaqo, and the others had seized the best of Drogo's herds, leaving to Dany the old and the scrawny, the sickly and the lame, the broken animals and the ill-tempered. It was the same with the people. They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo's queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done. Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. Blood flies swarmed about his corpse and carried his ill luck to the living. "His time was past," her handmaid Irri declared. "No man should live longer than his teeth." The others agreed. Dany bid them kill the weakest of their dying horses, so the dead man might go mounted into the night lands." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick, yet it was her dragons she feared for. Her father had been slain before she was born, and her splendid brother Rhaegar as well. Her mother had died bringing her into the world while the storm screamed outside. Gentle Ser Willem Darry, who must have loved her after a fashion, had been taken by a wasting sickness when she was very young. Her brother Viserys, Khal Drogo who was her sun-and-stars, even her unborn son, the gods had claimed them all. They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Yet even as her dragons prospered, her khalasar withered and died. Around them the land turned ever more desolate. Even devilgrass grew scant; horses dropped in their tracks, leaving so few that some of her people must trudge along on foot. Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"They saw no sign of other travelers. The Dothraki began to mutter fearfully that the comet had led them to some hell. Dany went to Ser Jorah one morning as they made camp amidst a jumble of black wind-scoured stones. "Are we lost?" she asked him. "Does this waste have no end to it?" [..] "It has an end," he answered wearily. "I have seen the maps the traders draw, my queen. Few caravans come this way, that is so, yet there are great kingdoms to the east, and cities full of wonders. Yi Ti, Qarth, Asshai by the Shadow . . ." [..] "Will we live to see them?" [..] "I will not lie to you. The way is harder than I dared think." The knight's face was grey and exhausted. The wound he had taken to his hip the night he fought Khal Drogo's bloodriders had never fully healed; she could see how he grimaced when he mounted his horse, and he seemed to slump in his saddle as they rode. "Perhaps we are doomed if we press on . . . but I know for a certainty that we are doomed if we turn back." Dany kissed him lightly on the cheek. It heartened her to see him smile. I must be strong for him as well, she thought grimly. A knight he may be, but I am the blood of the dragon." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Dany smiled. "Perhaps it's the camels you're smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose." [..] "Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did. -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys II

A Storm of Swords:

"No," said Dany. Groleo watched them from the forecastle, and his crew was watching too. Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, every one had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap. "I want to sail now, not on the tide, I want to sail far and fast and never look back. But I can't, can I? There are eight thousand brick eunuchs for sale, and I must find some way to buy them." And with that she left him, and went below. Behind the carved wooden door of the captain's cabin, her dragons were restless. Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. "No," Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. "You're too big for that now, sweetling." But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"Dany's mouth surely twisted at that. Did he see, or is he blind as well as cruel? She turned away quickly, trying to keep her face a mask until she heard the translation. Only then did she allow herself to say, "Whose infants do they slay?" [..] "To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them." She was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself. "You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"None." Was it Mormont she was angry with, or this city with its sullen heat, its stinks and sweats and crumbling bricks? "They sell eunuchs, not men. Eunuchs made of brick, like the rest of Astapor. Shall I buy eight thousand brick eunuchs with dead eyes that never move, who kill suckling babes for the sake of a spiked hat and strangle their own dogs? They don't even have names. So don't call them men, ser." [..] "Khaleesi," he said, taken aback by her fury, "the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained—" [..] "I have heard all I care to of their training." Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done." Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. "The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs." [..] "Your Grace," said Jorah Mormont, "I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead. And you do have some dogs you want dead, as I recall." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"Valar morghulis," said Missandei, in High Valyrian. "All men must die," Dany agreed, "but not for a long while, we may pray." She leaned back on the pillows and took the girl's hand. "Are these Unsullied truly fearless?" [..] "Yes, Your Grace." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

"Within the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, with her own tall golden pavilion at the center. A second encampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling and chaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, no horselines. Those who had horses or mules slept beside them, for fear they might be stolen. Goats, sheep, and half-starved dogs wandered freely amongst hordes of women, children, and old men. Dany had left Astapor in the hands of a council of former slaves led by a healer, a scholar, and a priest. Wise men all, she thought, and just. Yet even so, tens of thousands preferred to follow her to Yunkai, rather than remain behind in Astapor. I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it. The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver's armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV

"The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay. Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. "They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Jorah." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV

"Ser Jorah looked unhappy. "We'll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There's no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we've had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."[...] "Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." [..] "Slave or free, they are hungry and they'll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"It is known," Jhiqui agreed, as she poured. "Not to me." Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. "Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?" [..] "You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us." Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. "No," she said. "I will not march my people off to die." My children. "There must be some way into this city." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"Children ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. Instead of salutes, voices called to her on every side in a babble of tongues. Some of the freedmen greeted her as "Mother," while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"Dany was shocked. "They want to be slaves?" [..] "The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor." [..] "I see." Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. "Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman." She raised a hand. "But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves," said Daario Naharis. "You have brought freedom as well," Missandei pointed out. "Freedom to starve?" asked Dany sharply. "Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?" Am I mad? Do I have the taint?" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"A dragon," Ser Barristan said with certainty. "Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace." [..] "But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. "My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed all over again." She turned back to look at their faces. "I will not march." [..] "What will you do then, Khaleesi?" asked Rakharo." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

A Dance with Dragons:

"She had not forgotten the slave children the Great Masters had nailed up along the road from Yunkai. They had numbered one hundred sixty-three, a child every mile, nailed to mileposts with one arm outstretched to point her way. After Meereen had fallen, Dany had nailed up a like number of Great Masters. Swarms of flies had attended their slow dying, and the stench had lingered long in the plaza. Yet some days she feared that she had not gone far enough. These Meereenese were a sly and stubborn people who resisted her at every turn. They had freed their slaves, yes … only to hire them back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat. Those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the streets, along with the infirm and the crippled. And still the Great Masters gathered atop their lofty pyramids to complain of how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves, and whores. To rule Meereen I must win the Meereenese, however much I may despise them. "I am ready," she told Irri." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"If he proposes again that I wed King Cleon, I'll throw a slipper at his head, Dany thought, but for once the Astapori envoy made no mention of a royal marriage. Instead he said, "The time has come for Astapor and Meereen to end the savage reign of the Wise Masters of Yunkai, who are sworn foes to all those who live in freedom. Great Cleon bids me tell you that he and his new Unsullied will soon march." His new Unsullied are an obscene jape. "King Cleon would be wise to tend his own gardens and let the Yunkai'i tend theirs." It was not that Dany harbored any love for Yunkai. She was coming to regret leaving the Yellow City untaken after defeating its army in the field. The Wise Masters had returned to slaving as soon as she moved on, and were busy raising levies, hiring sellswords, and making alliances against her." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"The noble Grazdan had once owned a slave woman who was a very fine weaver, it seemed; the fruits of her loom were greatly valued, not only in Meereen, but in New Ghis and Astapor and Qarth. When this woman had grown old, Grazdan had purchased half a dozen young girls and commanded the crone to instruct them in the secrets of her craft. The old woman was dead now. The young ones, freed, had opened a shop by the harbor wall to sell their weavings. Grazdan zo Galare asked that he be granted a portion of their earnings. "They owe their skill to me," he insisted. "I plucked them from the auction bloc and gave them to the loom." Dany listened quietly, her face still. When he was done, she said, "What was the name of the old weaver?" [..] "The slave?" Grazdan shifted his weight, frowning. "She was … Elza, it might have been. Or Ella. It was six years ago she died. I have owned so many slaves, Your Grace." [..] "Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"Reznak wrung his hands. "N-nine, Magnificence. Foul work it was, and wicked. A dreadful night, dreadful." Nine. The word was a dagger in her heart. Every night the shadow war was waged anew beneath the stepped pyramids of Meereen. Every morn the sun rose upon fresh corpses, with harpies drawn in blood on the bricks beside them. Any freedman who became too prosperous or too outspoken was marked for death. Nine in one night, though … That frightened her. "Tell me." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

"Reznak mo Reznak gasped. "Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?" [..] "From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy's Sons have slain." That brought a smile to the Shavepate's face. "It will be done," he said, "but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city." Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. "Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

"How else, to grow a soldier? Your Radiance enjoyed my dancers. Would it surprise you to know that they are slaves, bred and trained in Yunkai? They have been dancing since they were old enough to walk. How else to achieve such perfection?" He took a swallow of his wine. "They are expert in all the erotic arts as well. I had thought to make Your Grace a gift of them." [..] "By all means." Dany was unsurprised. "I shall free them." That made him wince. "And what would they do with freedom? As well give a fish a suit of mail. They were made to dance." [..] "Made by who? Their masters? Perhaps your dancers would sooner build or bake or farm. Have you asked them?" [..] "Perhaps your elephants would sooner be nightingales. Instead of sweet song, Meereen's nights would be filled with thunderous trumpetings, and your trees would shatter beneath the weight of great grey birds." Xaro sighed. "Daenerys, my delight, beneath that sweet young breast beats a tender heart … but take counsel from an older, wiser head. Things are not always as they seem. Much that may seem evil can be good. Consider rain." [..] "Rain?" Does he take me for a fool, or just a child? "We curse the rain when it falls upon our heads, yet without it we should starve. The world needs rain … and slaves. You make a face, but it is true. Consider Qarth. In art, music, magic, trade, all that makes us more than beasts, Qarth sits above the rest of mankind as you sit at the summit of this pyramid … but below, in place of bricks, the magnificence that is the Queen of Cities rests upon the backs of slaves. Ask yourself, if all men must grub in the dirt for food, how shall any man lift his eyes to contemplate the stars? If each of us must break his back to build a hovel, who shall raise the temples to glorify the gods? For some men to be great, others must be enslaved." He was too eloquent for her. Dany had no answer for him, only the raw feeling in her belly. "Slavery is not the same as rain," she insisted. "I have been rained on and I have been sold. It is not the same. No man wants to be owned." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

"I know that the Mother of Dragons will not abandon us in our hour of peril. Lend us your Unsullied to defend our walls." And if I do, who will defend my walls? "Many of my freedmen were slaves in Astapor. Perhaps some will wish to help defend your king. That is their choice, as free men. I gave Astapor its freedom. It is up to you to defend it." [..] "We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom." Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face. Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael's teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him. "Enough," she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. "No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away." They dragged him out feet first, leaving several broken teeth and a trail of blood behind. Dany would gladly have sent the rest of the petitioners away … but she was still their queen, so she heard them out and did her best to give them justice." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

"It was all Dany could do not to laugh. "Not well. Last night three Qartheen galleys sailed up the Skahazadhan under the cover of darkness. The Mother's Men loosed flights of fire arrows at their sails and flung pots of burning pitch onto their decks, but the galleys slipped by quickly and suffered no lasting harm. The Qartheen mean to close the river to us, as they have closed the bay. And they are no longer alone. Three galleys from New Ghis have joined them, and a carrack out of Tolos." The Tolosi had replied to her request for an alliance by proclaiming her a whore and demanding that she return Meereen to its Great Masters. Even that was preferable to the answer of Mantarys, which came by way of caravan in a cedar chest. Inside she had found the heads of her three envoys, pickled. "Perhaps your gods can help us. Ask them to send a gale and sweep the galleys from the bay." [..] "I shall pray and make sacrifice. Mayhaps the gods of Ghis will hear me." Galazza Galare sipped her wine, but her eyes did not leave Dany. "Storms rage within the walls as well as without. More freedmen died last night, or so I have been told." [..] "Three." Saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "The cowards broke in on some weavers, freedwomen who had done no harm to anyone. All they did was make beautiful things. I have a tapestry they gave me hanging over my bed. The Sons of the Harpy broke their loom and raped them before slitting their throats." [..] "This we have heard. And yet Your Radiance has found the courage to answer butchery with mercy. You have not harmed any of the noble children you hold as hostage." "Not as yet, no." Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. "If I kill my cupbearers, who will pour my wine and serve my supper?" she said, trying to make light of it." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IV

"The Astapori stumbled after them in a ghastly procession that grew longer with every yard they crossed. Some spoke tongues she did not understand. Others were beyond speaking. Many lifted their hands to Dany, or knelt as her silver went by. "Mother," they called to her, in the dialects of Astapor, Lys, and Old Volantis, in guttural Dothraki and the liquid syllables of Qarth, even in the Common Tongue of Westeros. "Mother, please … mother, help my sister, she is sick … give me food for my little ones … please, my old father … help him … help her … help me …" I have no more help to give, Dany thought, despairing. The Astapori had no place to go. Thousands remained outside Meereen's thick walls—men and women and children, old men and little girls and newborn babes. Many were sick, most were starved, and all were doomed to die. Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. Separating the healthy from the sick had proved impractical as well. Her Stalwart Shields had tried, pulling husbands away from wives and children from their mothers, even as the Astapori wept and kicked and pelted them with stones. A few days later, the sick were dead and the healthy ones were sick. Dividing the one from the other had accomplished nothing. Even feeding them had grown difficult. Every day she sent them what she could, but every day there were more of them and less food to give them. It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. "I will not turn away from them," she said stubbornly. "A queen must know the sufferings of her people." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VI

"They're past cursing," said Symon Stripeback. Little children with swollen stomachs trailed after them, too weak or scared to beg. Gaunt men with sunken eyes squatted amidst sand and stones, shitting out their lives in stinking streams of brown and red. Many shat where they slept now, too feeble to crawl to the ditches she'd commanded them to dig. Two women fought over a charred bone. Nearby a boy of ten stood eating a rat. He ate one-handed, the other clutching a sharpened stick lest anyone try to wrest away his prize. Unburied dead lay everywhere. Dany saw one man sprawled in the dirt under a black cloak, but as she rode past his cloak dissolved into a thousand flies. Skeletal women sat upon the ground clutching dying infants. Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. "Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …" Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me. What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?" -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VI

"Daenerys gave him a quizzical look. "Lions?" [..] "Three of them. The dwarfs will not expect them." She frowned. "The dwarfs have wooden swords. Wooden armor. How do you expect them to fight lions?" "Badly," said Hizdahr, "though perhaps they will surprise us. More like they will shriek and run about and try to climb out of the pit. That is what makes this a folly." Dany was not pleased. "I forbid it." [..] "Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people." [..] "You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now." The king's mouth tightened. For a heartbeat Dany thought she saw a flash of anger in those placid eyes. "As you command." Hizdahr beckoned to his pitmaster. "No lions," he said when the man trotted over, whip in hand." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IX

"Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you. The voice was no more than a whisper, yet somehow Dany felt that he was walking just behind her. My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest, but she knew that if she turned around Ser Jorah would be gone. "I am dreaming," she said. "A waking dream, a walking dream. I am alone and lost." Lost, because you lingered, in a place that you were never meant to be, murmured Ser Jorah, as softly as the wind. Alone, because you sent me from your side." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Many antis love to say that Dany is evil, a slave master, uncaring, etc. Yet here we see in her passages that she is compassionate, sympathetic, and has a high disdain for unnecessary violence.

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