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queers-gambit · 6 months

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And Let Me Love You Anyway

[ part two of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader only description given: red hair and Daemon's able to lift you

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part one: "Tell Me Every Terrible Thing you ever did, And let me love you anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

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uzurimisery · 5 months

Text

chapter 4: the bluff. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 6746

Warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, PIV, unprotected sex (this guy is never wearing a condom ever), angry sex, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

AO3 version | Series master

You slammed the dressing room door shut. “What the hell was that , Coriolanus?” pacing the length of the room, anger seeping out of you. “Did you forget what we were supposed to do? We were supposed to play it off, say we were too young. That was not playing it off! That was proposing!”

In your rage, you stumbled in your heels. He watched you curse under your breath, undoing the strap on them and throwing them across the room. Coriolanus didn’t move, cemented in his spot just past the door.

“Listen to me Y/N,” his tone was stern, like a parent scolding a child. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you did!” you interrupted your voice tinged with sarcasm. “You always do whatever you want, don’t you? Here, the gala, the dinner. Always regardless of the consequences!”

Your words were sharp, digging in the fact that whatever was going on between you two there was meant to be a unified front, a single storyline. You were meant to be partners in the power play, both of you using each other to further your positions. All the work that went into constructing the next five years of the act was undone in an instant.

“I thought we were on the same page, Coriolanus. There was a plan for what we were going to do, but you just fucked it up!” He was always hypercritical of himself, internal monologue pointing out his every mistake, but you doing the same set him off.

“Can you shut up for five seconds! Or are you so self-obsessed that you can't let anyone else get a word in.”

“How dare you try and talk to me about being self-obsessed you narcissistic, unthoughtful-”

“There you go! Proving my point. You can’t even get off your high horse for a minute so I can explain why I did that.”

“You want to explain? Fine then, explain.” you spat.

Coriolanus’ jaw clenched. You were so hot and cold with him. He could never gauge what you really wanted in all of this, and you would never just tell him either.

“I saw an opportunity.”

“For what?”

“To play the part, to make the story so much better. Picture it, Coriolanus Snow, a man who has always been so organised and timely there are articles on how to put your life together like him, rushing into something. He’s so in love with his mentor’s daughter that he proposes to her on stage in front of all of Panem, and he doesn’t even have a ring on him because at that moment he realises that he can’t live without her.”

Your eyebrows were drawn, scanning over his face like you were looking for a fault in what he said, as you dissected it. There was nothing wrong with it though. The show was exactly how he described it. It painted him as a kind and caring man, beyond his known abilities at game making.

“You should have told me ahead of time.”

“I didn’t have a chance. I thought of it while getting ready.” he was lying, and you could tell. Seeing through lies was your speciality. He hadn’t thought about it while getting ready.

You called him on his bluff. “Bullshit. You didn’t have any plan, that was all impulse.” you were digging your finger into his chest to make your point. “You could have ruined everything we’ve been working on, made the past year pointless. What if I hadn’t followed along? What if I lost my composure for your little outburst? It’s not just your future on the line here Coriolanus. I’m leaving.”

Your shoulder bumped into his as you moved to walk out of the room, but his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back and lifting you off the ground.

“Y/N,” he started.

“Let me go!”

“You don’t get to walk away from me. You need to listen to me.”

“I’m done listening to you, put me down!”

“Well, I’m not done talking!” Coriolanus pushed your back against the wall, pinning you in place.

Why couldn’t you just listen to him like you normally did? Why were you so upset with him? What he did was off-script but it still looked good, and it still achieved your shared goals. You didn’t get to walk away from him when he was right.

You slapped him, still able to move your arms. “I told you to let me go.” He tasted blood in his mouth. When he smiled at you, you felt your blood run cold.

“Are you done?” His teeth had traces of blood on them.

You weren’t about to be intimidated by him. You didn’t cower or beg anyone, and that included Coriolanus Snow. “Let. Me. Go.” your demands fell on deaf ears.

His smile only widened, eyes glistening with a sinister light. You thought he’d be furious with you, and hated that you were out of control, but it seemed more like he enjoyed it. That he liked it when you fought back.

“I told you Y/N, I’m not done talking.”

You moved to slap him again but were met with your wrists being grabbed and pinned above your head, utterly defenceless for whatever happened next. The expectation for him to strike you back weighing in the air. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips met yours, forcing your mouth open and letting his tongue in. You tried to fight back but he bit down on your lip and stopped you. His tongue only became more insistent. Copper on both your tongues.

You didn’t hate it. You were still mad at him, obviously, but the sexual tension that always between the two of you beckoned, its tendrils wrapping around you. Who said some angry sex wasn’t the solution to your being mad at him?

Your teeth clacked against each other as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his midsection. Coriolanus’ free hand moved to support you. Standing like this he was able to grind his hips against yours, the friction delicious. The kiss was messy, both of you trying to prove something to the other with it.

When you pulled apart for air you spoke. “Let me go.” His breath was laboured, just as yours was, the rough makeout session leaving the both of you breathless.

“Not a chance, sweet girl.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, letting you slip free to pull at his hair, connecting your mouths once again. Your moans mixed with his own, body rolling to press your clothed pussy over his erection. Even though he had picked you up a multitude of times, it was always surprising how strong he actually was. His slim build did not give away how strong he actually was.

Everything between you was primal, driven by lust and anger.

Coriolanus brought you over to the couch, dropping you on your back. He liked you best like this, on your back and needy. Your high horse forgotten, and the only thing you rode him. The both of you took care to remove your clothes carefully, neither wanting to deal with a lecture from Tigris as well as knowing you had a dinner to attend in them after this. But that was where the caution ended.

The moment you were naked he had his fingers stretching you open with his thumb toying at your clit. His mouth was all over your skin, biting your breasts, adding to the marks already covering you. He was so rough with you and made you feel so small. But god did he know exactly what to do to you.

Your moans were sharp as he brought you to an orgasm. Everything you did drove him up a wall. Every time he thought he could move past it, ignoring the feeling, your pussy sucked him back in. It was your fault he made a mistake, that he lost his composure, that he went off script. He wanted access to your warmth whenever he wanted.

No matter how much he consumed you, he was still hungry, the type of hunger he hadn’t felt since the war. The one with claws that tore at his insides, teeth grinding into his bones. A bottomless pit that could never be filled. It clouded his mind with thoughts of you, your breasts and hips, the pout of your lips. He could almost always feel the sensation of you against him, biting into your soft flesh. It made him emotionally volatile, willing to risk everything for just a crumb. But every time he got a bite it filled him with dread.

Your perfume, boozy and peachy, a reminder that the only thing that would ever fill this hole was you. That when he was on the brink of death, starving and empty, it was you who would nourish him. Your being the very source of all his problems and all his solutions at the same time. A double-edged sword driving into his heart with every step he took towards you.

“See? Look how good you have it when you just behave.” you weren’t out of it yet, still able to spite back in vitriol.

“Fuck you.”

“Already have.” Coriolanus flipped you on your front, positioning you on your knees with your chest pressed against the couch.

Like this, he got to spread you open, look at what your body could offer him. Why did you have to be you? Why did you have to rival his mind and have such a perfect body? It ruined everything.

His fingers pressed back into you. He could watch you drip down them for hours, whiny and whimpering from his actions. Begging him to fuck you. No matter how you tried to act like you weren’t. You were just like him. Hungry and waiting.

Coriolanus lined up his cock with your entrance. Instead of easing into you, he thrust in fully, jolting your body forward. He wanted it to hurt, to make you feel sorry for blowing up at him. To show you that no matter how you acted out he could fuck you back into place.

He fucked you hard and fast, pulling your head back by your hair. It forced you up and to put your hands on the back of the couch. Your back arched, your shoulders almost against his chest. His other hand pinched at your nipples and tugged at them. It hurt, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

Moving his hand out of your hair, his fingers hooked into the side of your mouth. “Your mouth can be used for better things than being disrespectful.” your drool pooled around them, dribbling out the side of your mouth as you spoke.

“I’m gonna cum.” your speech altered from his fingers.

“I don’t care.” he did care, but he couldn’t let you know that, not right now. The biggest ego death to him would be if he was unable to make you cum. It fed his ego every time you clenched down around him, pussy fluttering from your orgasm. He didn’t slow down or let up, fully intent on taking his frustration out on you.

The air between you was hot and heavy, thick with the smell of sex. With his hands free, your waist became his new hold stone. Coriolanus didn’t even have to pull your hips to meet his, you were doing that for him, bucking backwards in time. Each trust had you panting little praises for him.

He wanted to see your face. You felt him pull out of you and then sit down on the couch next to you. “Ride me.”

You shifted, placing your knees on either side of him as you sunk down on his length. When you got to the base, you took a moment to recollect yourself, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Coriolanus’ lips found the crown of your head before he even recognised what he was doing. It was odd. This intimate act in the midst of all of this. He wanted to show you that he cared, that he wasn’t mad at you anymore. Why wasn’t he mad at you anymore? He was the type to let his anger fester, angry with infection. He waited until the moment was right and then he spread his sickness, cutting down whoever upset him. You were more useful than being cut down; however, he felt strongly towards you. The one thing he wouldn’t do is name those feelings.

The drag of your hips cut off his line of thought. He watched as you rode him, your thighs shaky but not letting it stop you. When you pulled your head out to kiss him he met you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. Hair and makeup would have a hay day with the two of you but the way you went all the way up, his tip the only thing inside you, to then your ass flush with his thighs made their annoyance worth it. Wanting to feel you cum around him again, his thumb began circling your clit, working you up to another orgasm.

“I’m close.”

“I know.”

Your hips slowed as you came, exhausted from riding him. But Coriolanus wasn’t done. His hand wrapped around your waist, moving you to an elevated position with his dick still inside you, and he began thrusting up into you. “Hold yourself just like that sweet girl.” You did as he told you, your head lulling to the front pressing your forehead against his. With a few final thrusts, he came inside you. You were winded, your eyes closed as he guided your bodies apart and grabbed a disposal west wipe to clean the both of you up. Finally, with that done, he could lay down and settle you on top of him, both of you naked and sweaty.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just listening to each other breathe, your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” apologises always felt like he was trying to speak a foreign language, his tongue struggling to make the sounds. “I shouldn’t have acted impulsively.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn’t have blown up on you.” his fingers traced your hairline as you lay on top of him, still reeling from the sex. “I just don’t like when things don’t go to plan, and they’ve not been going to plan between us.”

He couldn’t argue against that. Everything was so fuzzy between you. He didn’t know what you were feeling, but his feelings were you weren’t something he could ignore. When he said that he couldn’t picture his life without you it was true. He thought that speaking it out to the world would alleviate the pressure, and make it something he could keep inside himself, but he didn’t. He needed you to know that it meant it.

“Would it be so bad, marrying me?”

You picked your head up. “No,” you sighed. “It wouldn’t be.” He watched you find your original position, ear over his heart.

“We could be allies.” his heart pounded as you traced patterns on his skin. “You’re the first person I’ve met I’d consider that with. I could make you the First Lady of Panem.”

Being the First Lady was an appealing idea. You’d be able to do so much more in that position. It was a core belief of yours that the games were only the first step in binding the loyalty of the country, to furthering the control over the populace. Aid programs needed to be doled out in the Districts. People who were content were less likely to look behind the curtain and see what was really happening.

“What happens when you fall in love with someone? Would we divorce and I’d lose everything, both the games and my position?” there was uncertainty in your voice.

There could never be someone after you. You were it for him. Sure he could find a docile wife and marry her, leave her be and just have kids with her. But she could never truly know him. But you could, and you were learning the true him. And you wouldn’t make him separate his work and home life, you’d dive into it with him, lethal and cunning.

“That won’t happen,” he was blunt with his statement. “You’re the only one I could do this with.”

It felt like the weight was finally lifting off him some. The pressure that had been building and threatening to blow, to whistle like a kettle. As much as he had intended for your relationship to be a temporary political alliance, he wanted it to be permanent. He didn’t trust people, but he was growing to trust you, knowing that your goals were ultimately the same.

“But what if it does?” He had never seen you so worried about his feelings, genuine concern. “Or what if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Y/N,” his thumb brushed your lips, making you face him again. “I promise you that is never going to happen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a final look of determination, kissed you, his lips bruising against your own. He was hoping that it conveyed that he meant it with all his heart. He was never going to fall in love with someone else, the home you made in his heart was always going to be yours. The decor exactly how you left it if you ever walked away, waiting for you to come back. You’d never get the chance to walk away but that was the sentiment, that he could forgive you for leaving him if he took you back and you stayed with him. A dove with a broken wing was still a dove. It might not be able to soar in the slides, free from the gravity of the world, but it was still a dove. Even if he broke you and locked you up, you’d still be you.

He could never love another, not when he loved you. Coriolanus loved you. The realisation shook him, a tempestuous collision of the man he was and the man he wanted to be. The crack formed by Lucy Gray was broken open once again by you. He had convinced himself that love was a weakness, that it was something to be exploited. Over the past year of getting to know you, getting to be with you, you had challenged his core beliefs, forcing him to confront the fact that he loved you.

It was hard admitting it to himself. Just hours earlier he had told Tigris off for even suggesting the idea of it, vehemently denying it. He didn’t want to love you then, terrified at the idea of you finding out and leaving. But you had said it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to him, that you’d be willing to be allies for the rest of your life. The truth was there though, written into every interaction he had with you. The glaring reality that he could no longer ignore, lingered in his eyes like a burned-in image.

It was terrifying, the exact opposite of the control he wanted to have over those around him, to have you control his heart. The practised emotional detachment he had led his life with failed in his darkest hour. The fear that you’d be just like Lucy Gray and run. It didn’t matter that you both worked on the games, that he had seen you develop new ways to punish the Capitol’s enemies, that you had just as much darkness within you as he did. That you were as ruthless as he was. The betrayal he had once experienced at the hands of a District dog had him petrified of it happening again.

Could he erase your existence like he did hers if something happened? The thought was both horrifying and tempting. He didn’t want it to come to that, to erase you, to discard you like a broken toy. You were better than Lucy Gray, you wouldn’t betray him. He wouldn’t let you. But he couldn’t come to you with this, not yet. Coriolanus Snow needed you to break down and beg him to tell him that he loved you. When he could see you, lost in your feelings for him, then he could tell you. Not before, not after. But at the moment when you are in desperate need of him, he could tell you. Only then could he believe that you loved him too.

______________________________________

Things have been busy since then and luckily you have been able to avoid conversation with your mother too. Coriolanus and you had no time to talk about your game plan and what would've happened next as the games started. Every day you were at the Citadel, ensuring things ran smoothly. He was there too, doing his own work, but the amount you had to do kept you from each other. It wasn’t until after the games ended that the two of you got a moment alone. Of course, you had been to several events together but you couldn't talk about things there. So when the last person left the production room, you were finally alone with him.

“Did you mean what you said that night on the balcony, that it was hard pretending that you loved me?”

The two of you were in his private lab. You were sitting on the edge of his desk instead of a chair, something he noticed you liked to do. After the cameras had been turned off you had taken your hair down from the pinned updo made of a braid, letting the braid hang loose. The heels you were wearing off your feet and lost in the room. Coriolianus’ head was in your lap as your fingers brushed through his hair. The slight stubble he’d grown over the last two days catching on your tights.

His voice was muffled by your thigh. “No.”

“No you didn't mean it or no it isn’t hard pretending that you love me?” Your fingers were putting him to sleep. It had been so long since he had been touched like this. He only had one strong memory of his mother. They had been sitting before the fire, her belly full with his younger sister, her finger running through his, much like your own, singing a song he couldn’t remember now, the melody lost with time.

“No,” he finally replied, groggy. “It’s not hard pretending that I love you”

There was a flicker of hope within you when he first confessed to you that night on the balcony. You had convinced yourself that he was being vulnerable with you then, letting you in. Was this him adding kindling to that fire or dousing it?

“Is it easy then?” Each word was laced with intrigue and tinged with trepidation. The question wormed itself into the conversation, hanging in the air like the hum of the machinery. He tensed under you like he had been unprepared for this conversation, a betrayal of how he normally was.

Coriolanus’ response was slow, deliberate and weighted, with every individual syllable chosen carefully. “No, it’s not easy either.” The threading of your fingers felt so good against his scalp, it was criminal. “It’s neither easy nor hard, it’s necessary.” He shrugged with that statement, drowsy from the long day and your actions.

It was strange seeing him like this, his head in your lap as he was half asleep. The Coriolanus you knew was a man of fronts, never betraying his persona of unwavering composure and unyielding strength. He was smart and capable, bringing the Snow family back from the brink of destruction. But now there was no front present. He was relaxed and open, the tension in his shoulders finally released as he rested on your thighs. You could see every pore of skin, every hair out of place. There was a faint scar above his lip, so blended with his skin that you had never seen it before. It had access to the same medical and cosmetic treatments as you did meaning that he had left this one there on purpose. A reminder of something that had happened to him.

You chewed on his words as you watched him. It was neither easy nor hard pretending that he loved you, it was necessary. It was a non-answer, a refusal to tell you his feelings on the matter, that itself a revealing statement. He was used to his words working on others, his honied lips spinning the sweetest lies. But you had watched him, seen him change over the years. Coriolanus was a man burdened with his own demons that sat at the table with him. There was an understanding in that. You had your own demons that sat in the corner of your room every night, watching you sleep and whispering dangerous things. Neither of you were innocent good-hearted people, both of you violent and deadly.

But his cracks were showing, and that night under the stars with too much to drink, he had let you see just how much they were cracking. You were willing to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together. Your own feelings were the same as his, you were just better at hiding it.

“My father wants us to have an engagement party.”

“When?”

“In two weeks at my family estate,” knowing your father, it was going to be a spectacle. He doted on you. “But he wants to have a private dinner before that, just your family and mine.” His only family was Grandma’am and Tigris. If you wanted to, you could count the Plinths as family, even though he hated the thought of having any relationship with them.

“That’s fine. I’m sure Grandma’am will be excited, she’s been pestering me about marrying you while she’s still alive to see it.”

“She wants you to marry me?”

He murmured some form of agreement, still out of it. “She says you make me smile like I haven’t since I was a boy. It’s annoying actually, she keeps demanding that I bring you around for lunch.” This was news. Your interactions with Grandma’am had always been under the pretence of public events, you never thought much of them, but apparently she had. More than that, she thought more of your effect on her grandson.

“You should be kinder to her, you don’t know how long she’s got left.”

Coriolanus’ head lifted from your lap, rubbing his eyes as he propped his head up on a hand. “I know,” it wasn’t nice to have to think about the fact his Grandma’am was up there in age, that she maybe had another 15 years left. If that. “I’ll tell her we’ll do lunch then.”

Your smile was irresistible. “Good. The least you can do for her is let her think that you’ve found someone you genuinely love, and who loves you just as much. She’ll never know that it's just an act either. It’ll let her rest easy knowing you’re taken care of.”

His heart sank, and his stomach dropped out and onto the ground.

“Yeah, it’s a good act too.”

______________________________________

Coriolanus paced in the foyer, stopping every so often his fingers fidgeting with the knot of his tie, loosening and tightening it. His outfit was simple and smart today. His father's button-up with a red tie, a grey pinstripe waistcoat and matching trousers. The black leather of his oxfords had been polished earlier in the morning. He felt antsy, just wanting to get this luncheon over with. He shouldn’t have told you that Grandma’am wanted this, he must have been out of his mind when he did.

“Coriolanus my boy,” Grandma’am had snuck up behind him, making him jump as she put her hands on his shoulders. “You look as handsome as always, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

His smile was weak in the mirror, not reaching his eyes. “Thank you Grandma’am.” She fiddled with the shoulder of his shirt, lining it up properly as it had been moved from his walking around.

“You must really love her if it’s got you like this.”

“I do.” The words were heavy. This was the first time he had acknowledged his feelings for you to another person. The vulnerability threatened to consume him.

“I’m glad,” her eyes became teary as she spoke. “Your mother loved your father so much. I remember their wedding day. She was so nervous, running around like a rabbit. You remind me of her sometimes.” she threw her hands up like the statement was outlandish. “But of course, you’re more like your father than anything else. Strong Coriolanus Snow.”

They rarely talked about his parents, or Tigris’ parents, like this. It was easier for them all to let the dead stay dead. A bittersweet ache spread through him.

“I’m glad.” He reached out and took Grandma's hand, offering her some comfort. Talking about her dead children always set her off. They stood in silence for a beat, hand in hand, each processing their own feelings before he shattered the quiet.

“It’s easier to let the dead stay dead.”

Grandma’am nodded, her handkerchief to her eye to clean up the tears she had spilt. “Sometimes,” she acknowledges, “the past is too painful to revisit. But it’s important to remember Coriolanus. To remember the love, the laughter, the life that was lived. To honour those who came before you.”

But he didn’t want to remember the past. The past made everything worse.

The ring of the elevator cut the conversation short. You were here, and he was nervous. This was no different than a public event, you both knew the parts to play, but it was so different at the same time. You were in his family home, eating with him and his Grandma’am, and doing it purely because you thought she deserved to think someone loved him. Doing it because you cared for her. It was here that his history echoed, ghosts of the past hanging on every wall. Remnants of the boy he once was tucked away in boxes, now dusty with age.

As the elevator doors opened, revealing you standing there, those boxes came out of storage and were placed on the table for you to sort through.

“Oh! Miss Gaul! Please come in.” Grandma’am rushed towards you, excited to have you over.

“Grandma’am,” you chided, pulling her into a hug. She had shrunk in her old age and your heels didn’t help the equation, making you bend down to do so. “I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Y/N. Plus soon enough I’ll Mrs. Snow.”

“I know, I know, I just forget sometimes. Perhaps I should just call you Mrs. Snow!”

“Now I think that’s a wonderful idea!” You took a second to greet Coriolanus with a kiss and then went back to chatting with Grandma’am taking her hands in your own.

You were so delicate with her, it pained him to watch you be so kind to her. You nodded along diligently to whatever she said and were actively engaging in the conversation. He could tell that you weren’t pretending to care and that you actually wanted to speak with his grandmother. She was so animated with you like years had been removed from her. He had spent so long trying to protect her from all that had happened, and all that he had done. His actions had severed parts of their relationship, and with Tigris not living in the apartment anymore, she must have grown lonely. But you brought her back, the vibrant woman who could connect with the world.

Coriolanus sidled up to you, arm wrapping around your waist. “I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I do believe Y/N came here for lunch.” It felt so right to have you like this.

“Yes, yes, Coriolanus,” Grandma’am started, “I’ll go make sure the cook has prepared everything. Why don't you show Y/N into the dining room.”

“Of course, Grandma’am.”

Alone, he nipped at your ear, his breath making your heart skip a beat. His hands were warm, one placed on your stomach the the other on your arm. You could smell the mint on his breath when he uttered a whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. “You look stunning today.”

You were wearing all black today, something that went against the average Capitol woman. It was a high neck mini dress, stopping a few inches above your knee. The sleeves were long, longer than your hands and instead of normal holes, the fabric was spliced up to your elbow. Your heels were lower than they normally were from press events, no doubt more comfortable. The splash of colour came from your earrings. They were red, with a velvety coating on them, and shaped like rose petals separated and hung on a chain. You had remembered Grandma’am’s love of roses.

“It’s not for you, you know.” you took every opportunity to tease him. “But thank you.”

You had no idea what you did to him. “If it were for me it’d be on the floor by now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing this is for Grandma’am and not you.” You patted his cheek. “Now are you going to show me to the dining room Coriolanus?” When you said his name you mirrored the way his Grandma’am said it.

A crooked grin rose on his face with a small laugh. “With pleasure, my dear,” he replied biting your ear again before leading you through the grand hallways of the apartment. His hand never left your back until you were sat down. You were on Coriolanus’ right, with his chair being at the head of the table.

The table was smaller than the average dining room table in the Capitol, unsurprising given the number of Snow family members there were left. It looked to seat about 10 people maximum. It was a dark-stained wood, a style that was popular in the prewar days. The walls were a pale blue, covered in a patterned wallpaper. The signature tile flooring of the apartment was carried into the dining room, laid in a geometric style with the table in the centre. It was all a testament to the family’s long history and enduring presence in the Capitol, a microcosm of the Capitol itself.

“Have you told her about the dinner?”

“No I haven’t had a chance yet-”

“What dinner?” Grandma’am sauntered into the room, waiting for Coriolanus to pull out her seat so she could sit. “The cook prepared quite a lunch today,” she listed out the menu after she sat down, Coriolanus returning to his own seat, arms resting on the table.

“That all sounds wonderful Grandma’am. Corio’s told me how wonderful your chef is.”

“Yes, I do agree. It took me ages to find one that I liked, so many of them are lacklustre these days.”

“Well I hope my family’s chef won't disappoint you then.” you grabbed his hand on the table. “My father wanted me to invite you to a family dinner on Friday evening. It’s just a small get-together to introduce everyone to each other properly. After all, we’ll be one family soon.

“Oh, that is a wonderful idea! I’ve always had such admiration for your father’s interior design work.” Grandma’am's voice faded out for Coriolanus as she spoke. Rambling about how your father had ‘brought back the elegance of the Capitol’ through his job. Coriolanus was focused on one thing.

You were wearing the ring. He had gone in between rings for what felt like a millennium till settling on a custom made. It was reminiscent of the one he remembered his mother wearing, covered in diamonds and made of gold. Your was made of platinum, far more durable than gold and less like the be damaged by your time in the labs and only plated in gold. The centre stone was large, 1.5 carats, an emerald cut diamond. The style of the ring was similar to an ornate mirror. There were 22 stones in total, each one glittering from the chandelier's light. He hadn't stopped with just the one ring either, he needed to decorate you in the finest jewels he could buy with the Plinth family fortune. That's why your index finger had a stack of thinner, geometric, stack complimenting the engagement ring.

It thrilled him. Wedding rings were no more than a shackle connecting you to him. A show of his authority over you. Marrying you wasn’t about companionship, it was to own you. To change your last name to his own and let everyone know that he would never leave you alone. Maybe he’d let you hyphenate your last name, and you’d like that, it went against the norm.

His thumb rubbed against his own engagement ring. His was simpler, he didn’t enjoy the over-the-top couture and showmanship of the Capitol, a think gold plated platinum band with a matching kite cut diamond flush set into it. The kite shape echoed by etchings around the placement. You had picked the ring out for him after seeing your own, saying that you wanted it to match with yours. It was ironic that you chose a kite shape. They flew high in the sky, a symbol of freedom and soaring ambition.

The luncheon was nice, you had to admit. You didn’t have a living grandmother and it was nice to talk with Grandma’am as you ate. She kept telling stories of Coriolanus’ youth, much to his chagrin. The stories, and how he treated her, were different than what you had expected. He was cold towards Tigris, but he had so much warmth towards Grandma’am. What had happened between the two that caused a rift? Grandma’am spoke as if the two had been thick as thieves growing up.

When the plates were cleared, you joined Grandma’am in the kitchen as she made coffee for the two of you, Coriolanus somewhere in the apartment answering a message on his communicuff. You had offered to do it but she insisted on doing it herself, telling you that the machine was too complicated for a guest to use. But you know exactly how to use it, but that was a secret.

When she sat across from you, both your mugs steaming, her eyes were sombre. “Can you be honest with a foolish old woman?”

“I don’t see any old women here, but I can be honest.” her chuckle was wethered and dry, telling of someone who had lived through too much.

“I know my Coriolanus is a difficult man,” she always insisted on using his full name. “He’s much like his father in that regard, and I would know having raised them both. But you’re good for him. When I see him with you it's like all the horrible things he had to live through are forgotten, and that he’s that smiling boy running around the apartment with his mother chasing after him again.” Grandma’am’s voice broke as the spoke, teetering on the edge of crying.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She loved him so much.

“I love him Grandma’am, I really do.” candour in every word you spoke. “With him, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true and that one day I’ll wake up and this was all a dream that I had. Every day I pinch myself to make sure it's still real.”

“Will you always?”

“There’s no future in which I don’t love him. He’s my now and always. And even if one day we weren’t together anymore, I’d still love him and I’d still support him. Just like he’d do the same for me.”

As you spoke Grandma’am’s tears flowed freely, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of gratitude. She saw in you that she didn’t have to worry anymore, that someone other than her would love him unconditionally. Be a sanctuary to his troubled heart.

“Thank you.” as the older woman bawled you got up to hug her, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

Coriolanus had heard the whole thing but he couldn’t tell if you had said it for her or it was a confession of your true feelings. You were always perfect at playing your part.

taglist: @serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad

#tdoaa #the death of an actor #uzuri writes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #hunger games smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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comicaurora · 2 months

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In the latest trope talk you used Odo as part of your examples. I think You've talked about Star Trek: The Next Generation before but not Deep Space Nine and I just had some questions about what you thought about the show.

What did you most/least enjoy about the series?

What did you think of DS9's syndicated episodes compared to contemporary trek's (TNG, VOY) episodic nature?

How do you feel about the Dominion storyline as a whole? Did you feel like it went against Star Trek's utopian future?

Which characters stood out to you the most/had the most engaging development?

What do you think gagh tastes like?

Any other thoughts about the series?

Oh man, DS9.

I have this very consistent pattern of thinking that the star trek I have most recently watched is the best star trek. When I watched TNG it was the best because of its standout episodes that let Patrick Stewart and Brent Spiner show off. Then when I watched Voyager it was the best because Janeway was incredible and 7 of 9's arc was a beautiful iteration on the "inhuman character explores humanity" star trek trope. Then when I got to DS9 I was like "Oh, so this is what actually good Star Trek looks like." I do think I'm actually right this time, though.

I think they really took advantage of how different the core premise of the show was from previous Star Treks. Because the setting was very consistent, the episodic variations on the formula weren't dedicated to seeking out Weird New Shit, but to focusing on the characters and their dynamics with one another. Correspondingly I think the best thing in the show is the character writing and how everyone's arcs are built up. This was something I think they were building towards with the previous series; TNG would occasionally have character-focused episodes, but for the most part everybody on the ship operated like a well-oiled machine, inputting the Weird Thing Of The Week and outputting a solution. Voyager destabilized the formula by yeeting the heroes halfway across the galaxy and well outside the safe confines of federation space, so you got a lot more opportunities for drama caused by limited supplies or existential despair, and a lot more character-driven conundrums without clean or flawless solutions. DS9 is kind of the apotheosis of this shift away from "seek out new life and new civilizations, boldly go etc etc" because instead of our heroes briefly interacting with Bajor and then fucking off into the end credits, they're sitting right on top of a planet undergoing tumultuous social restructuring after the end of a long and horrible military occupation, and they're there for 7 seasons. Because they aren't following an adventure-of-the-week formula, absolutely everything they do has consequences they have to deal with later down the line, and that lends itself very well to longform character arcs.

I liked the Dominion storyline well enough, and I think the existence of an evil space empire to fight doesn't preclude the Federation being a utopia. Utopias are internally perfect systems, not worlds that have absolutely no conflict. I think the part of DS9 that does undercut the utopia is the whole thing with Section 31, but I think that's part of a very intentional move on the writers' part to highlight that Section 31 is not as necessary as they think they are, and that doing all this stuff unethically is a moral concession and a shortcut that demeans the principles of the Federation. That's part of why I like that they serve as a nemesis to Doctor Bashir, who has very personal reasons to despise the idea of taking the easy way out.

Character-wise, I have very predictable favs. Jadzia Dax is fascinating to me, and I love the way they play with her past lives and centuries of experience to create this very layered character packed with plothooks. Also I have very simple tastes, and "woman fills narrative Man Role trope and nobody is weird about it" is an itch I so rarely get scratched despite how not complicated it is. Jadzia gets to be a swashbuckling romantic hero with a tragic starcrossed lover; she gets to be a wise yet cheerful mentor to Captain Sisko; she gets to be a noble warrior honoring debts from a lifetime ago. And I adore how her dynamic with Sisko plays out over the seasons - another completely uncomplicated trope I so rarely get to enjoy, male and female leads who are profoundly ride-or-die for one another and have absolutely no interest in making out. I am still so mad about how Jadzia gets iced, but that doesn't mean I don't like Ezri, and there is something very beautiful about how when she gets Dax'd and her existence becomes an absolute mess of confusion and conflicting memories and she doesn't even know who she is anymore, her single point of stability is Sisko.

That said, Garak is probably my overall fav. The man is an absolute drama hound and since he's not technically main cast it's a rare treat to get him focused on. He is so much fun on a rewatch when you can see exactly when and how he's lying and when he's telling the truth in a way that everyone thinks is lying, and what I think is most interesting about him is how absolutely everybody else on the station has him figured out. There's this "I know he knows I know they know" loop underlying almost every interaction. Everyone knows he's a spy, he knows everyone knows, and they're all just vibing anyway. It's like his entire character is built on telling the truth in a way that sounds like a lie, to the point where it always manages to surprise people when he does something absolutely ruthless. He's been saying he's a bad guy the whole time! People seem to keep forgetting!

Also, fun fact, the very first chunk of DS9 I caught was the back half of the episode "The Wire", and when I was mentioning this to my dad, I was like "yeah I don't remember their names but these two guys seemed extremely married-" and he immediately went "oh, Garak and the doctor?" so that's very telling I think

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 10 months

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"Dabi is a chill / cool guy" wrong, in fact his whole quirk and emotional struggles are all about how not chill he is. He literally burned himself alive? Twice? He cries blood? He just appeared detached 'cause he is suicidal and he's trying to convince himself that nothing else matters but revenge he's failing.

"Tomura is cruel / dumb / explosive" super wrong, there are several instances of him getting threatened by the League when he either did nothing or calmly reacted to him. There are also several instances of Tomura explaining historical events or sharing facts and strategy with them.

Contrary to what Dabi once suggested on the manga, Compress is known for taking big risks to accomplish his missions and he has an active role whenever the League needs him (jumped against Overhaul and later took his arm, kidnapped Bakugo, used his quirk on himself to allow Spinner and Tomura to escape, fought against Machia with Twice to allow Tomura to rest, etc).

Twice is not just a silly guy, he has actual malice too and he acts on it. Overhaul would have been a great addition if it wasn't for his need to control. He is capable of being cruel for his family the League sake and he was with them because he wanted, not because he was being a naive man being tricked.

Spinner is not a background character but someone really important to the storyline development (maybe Dabi is the second strongest and most active league member after Tomura, but Spinner is the person they all trusted and Tomura's greatest follower).

Toga is not just cheerful-crazy, she is really serious when it matters and like Twice or Dabi or thr rest of the League, a big part of her personality is a consequence of some trauma, in this case the social mask she tried to maintain for the sake of getting approved by her parents.

The League of Villains is more complex than all the stereotypes.

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

Text

My Girl

➥ summary: Twin brothers Miles and Miles (Prowler) both seem to be crushing on the same girl at their new school, just a matter of them before one of them admits it. May the best man win

➥ a/n: so i decided on a storyline where they both grew up as twins, no spiderman or prowler but as to not confuse us all earth 42 miles will be nicknamed prowler, another thing fanart isn’t mine it was simply found on Pinterest and google

➥ 1610! Miles (RJ) x Reader x 42! Miles (The Prowler)

Rio Morales watched her twin boys, Miles and Miles, grip each other's shoulders tightly with anticipation as they stood outside their new school. It was a crisp autumn morning, and the leaves danced playfully in the breeze, mirroring the excitement that fluttered in Rio's heart. The decision to move them to a new school had been tough, but after the fight that broke out at their old school, Rio believed it was necessary to give them a fresh start.

•••

"Alright, boys," Rio said, with a mix of determination and affection in her voice. "Remember why we're here. This is a chance for all of us to turn things around, to make new friends, and grow into better versions of ourselves."

Miles, wearing a red hoodie and sporting a mischievous grin, fidgeted restlessly. He was the meticulous one, always wanting to explore every nook and cranny he stumbled upon. His friends called him the "Prowler" due to his natural curiosity and resourcefulness.

"Mama, trust me," he chimed in. "No more fights. The Prowler always has a plan."

Rio looked into Miles' expressive eyes, recognizing the genuine excitement and innocence that radiated from within him. But she also saw the darkness that lay dormant, the potential for trouble that he carried, as often seen in the consequences of his actions.

"Miles, my love," Rio began, her voice filled with equal parts love and worry, "your curiosity is a gift, but you have to learn to channel it in the right direction. There's no doubt you can do great things, but it's important you steer clear of any more trouble."

Miles nodded sheepishly, understanding his mother's concerns. He had a naivete about him that matched his mischievous nature. He longed for adventure, but deep down, he understood the importance of his mother's guidance.

Miles, his green hoodie a stark contrast to his brother's, stepped forward and slipped his arm around Rio's waist lovingly. With a confident smile, he told her, "Don't worry, Mama. We'll be good. No more fights, I promise."

Rio smiled back, acknowledging that Miles always had a way of soothing her fears with his undeniable charisma. Known as "RJ" to his friends, he had a magnetic personality, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm and laid-back attitude.

With resolve in her eyes, Rio led her twin sons through the school gate, determined to give them the fresh start they deserved. The trio embarked on a journey into the unknown, hoping to forge new friendships and redefine their identities along the way.

Little did they know, this new school would provide them with countless opportunities, both joyous and challenging. In this unfamiliar world, they would uncover hidden talents, face unexpected dangers, and learn what it means to be true to themselves while navigating the trials and triumphs of high school.

•••

The hallways buzzed with excitement as the rumors about the enigmatic prowler named Miles circulated like wildfire. Whispers filled the air as students gossiped about the alleged incidents involving broken arms and daring escapes. Among the crowd stood two very different Miles - the reclusive prowler and the more timid and anxious RJ.

As the whispers grew louder, RJ's anxiety intensified, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt trapped, suffocated by the rumors that threatened to swallow him whole. His breaths came faster, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seeing the new kid on the brink of a panic attack, a young woman named (Y/N) who was a confident and fiercely protective classmate of all newcomers, stepped in. She wore her Hokage cloak, a symbol of strength and leadership, as she positioned herself between Miles - RJ, and the encroaching crowd.

"Back up, everyone!" (Y/N)’s voice commanded authority. "Give him some space and stop pestering him with these rumors."

Her declaration didn’t come as a shock to the onlookers seeing as how this was normal, and only some hesitated for a moment before backing away, allowing RJ a small reprieve from the overwhelming attention.

"Hey new kid, are you okay?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

Miles - RJ, managed a weak nod, grateful for her intervention. "Yeah, just... it's all too much."

(Y/N) put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know it's tough, always is for you new comers but don’t let the stupid need to gossip about some stupid rumors define you. You're more than what people say."

Miles - the prowler, observing the situation from a distance, couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity towards (Y/N). Her support and willingness to protect his twin Miles - RJ, struck a chord within him. Despite his secretive nature, he couldn't help but feel a connection with this girl who wasn't afraid to stand up for what she believed in.

The hallway started to clear as the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class. (Y/N) removed her Hokage cloak and handed it to Miles - RJ, giving him a gentle smile.

"Keep this for now," she said. "It'll remind you that you have friends who stand by you."

Miles - the prowler, couldn't shake the image of the girl from his mind. He knew he had to talk to his twin, RJ, about her. Approaching Miles - RJ after school, he found him sitting on a bench, lost in his thoughts.

“Yo,” Miles said, taking a seat next to him. "I saw you with some girl in the hallways. Care to explain?"

Miles - RJ's face flushed slightly, but he knew he could trust his twin. "Yeah, she helped me when I was almost having a panic attack. She stood up for me when everyone was bombarding me with questions about you and the rumors."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "She seems a little too invested in our affairs, don't you think? We can't trust anyone easily, especially not someone who shows up out of nowhere."

Miles - RJ nodded, understanding his twin's caution. "I get it, but she seemed genuinely concerned. She's different. I've never met anyone like her."

Miles, the prowler, sighed, torn between wanting to protect his twin and wanting him to experience genuine friendship. "I know you're craving connection, RJ, but be careful. People have hurt us before, and we can't afford to let our guard down."

"I won't be naive, Miles," RJ assured him. "But she's different from those who've hurt us. I know she can be a true friend."

The prowler studied his twin's eyes, searching for any signs of deception. Seeing only sincerity, he relented. "Alright, but stay cautious. I'll keep an eye on her too."

As the days passed, Miles - RJ and (Y/N) grew closer. She welcomed him into her circle of friends, and he began to experience a sense of belonging he had never felt before. They laughed together, shared stories, and supported each other through thick and thin.

Miles, the prowler, watched from a distance, his protective instincts on high alert. He saw how much Miles - RJ was opening up to (Y/N), and a part of him was happy for his twin, but another part couldn't help but worry. The past had taught him to trust no one and to protect RJ at all costs.

One evening, he decided to approach (Y/N) cautiously. "I've been watching you and my twin," he said. "I know you've been helping him, but don't think I'll let my guard down just because he likes you. If you hurt him, I won't hesitate to protect him."

“Damn…he wasn’t kidding. Y’all look exactly alike.” (Y/N) says and Miles raised a brow at her.

(Y/N) changed her expression from one of bewildered and met his gaze with determination. "I wouldn’t hurt him intentionally. I care about him, Miles 2.0.”

“Miles 2.0?” Miles - the prowler questioned.

“Well yeah, cause well he’s the first miles I’ve met and you’re, you know…”

Miles - the prowler, studied her carefully, searching for any signs of deception. But all he saw was sincerity.

"I'll be watching," he warned before disappearing into the shadows.

•••

A few weeks later, Miles - RJ mustered up the courage to invite (Y/N) over to his place to play video games. As the day arrived, he nervously waited for her at the door, trying to ignore the creeping thoughts of doubt seeded by Miles, the prowler's, constant warnings.

When (Y/N) arrived, she had a bright smile on her face and greeted RJ with enthusiasm. "Hey, RJ! I'm so ready to kick your ass!”

“Sup miles 2.0!”

Miles - RJ's heart fluttered with happiness as he led her inside, introducing her to Miles - the prowler, who was sitting on the couch, looking aloof and distant. He eyed her cautiously but nodded in greeting at her nonetheless. "Hope you can handle our intense gaming skills."

(Y/N) chuckled, undeterred by his dismissive demeanor. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle it. I'm not one to back down from a challenge."

As they settled in for some gaming, Miles - the prowler, couldn't help but taunt (Y/N) throughout the play, trying to unnerve her. But to his surprise, she responded with playful banter and didn't let his jabs get under her skin.

"You’re actually decent at this," Miles - the prowler, said, genuinely impressed not that he would show it.

(Y/N) grinned. "Told you I wouldn't go down without a fight. Bring it on!"

As the gaming session continued, Miles - RJ noticed a subtle change in his twin's demeanor. Miles - the prowler, seemed less guarded and a bit more at ease, thanks to (Y/N)’s carefree and friendly approach. They laughed, teased each other, and the competitive spirit in the room was infectious.

The boys mom, Rio, couldn't help but peek into the living room, where her two boys were engaged in laughter and fun. A warm smile spread across her face, relieved to see her boys making a new friend.

As the evening went on, Miles - the prowler, gradually let down his defenses, realizing that (Y/N) was genuinely a good person who meant no harm. He was confused by his own emotions and the newfound camaraderie they were sharing. It was a mix of vulnerability and comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night came to an end, (Y/N) got up to leave, exchanging a hug with the RJ and a fist bump with his brother.

"Thanks for inviting me over, RJ. I had a blast," (Y/N) said warmly.

“No problem!” Miles - RJ says.

“And good play with you Miles 2.0. I had fun.”

"Yeah, it was... fun," Miles, the prowler, admitted, trying to hide his genuine happiness.

"See you guys at school tomorrow!" Y/N called as she headed out the door.

As RJ closed the door, he turned to his twin with a raised eyebrow. "So, what did you think?"

Miles - the prowler, hesitated for a moment before cracking a small smile. "She's something else, that's for sure. I don't know what to make of it, but... I don't hate it."

RJ laughed, pleased to see his twin warming up to (Y/N). She's amazing, isn't she? I'm glad we made a friend like her."

"Yeah, me too," Miles, the prowler, admitted, surprising even himself with his honesty.

•••

A month had passed since (Y/N) became an integral part of their lives, and both the boys found themselves experiencing an unexpected but undeniable crush on her. Each twin had their own little moments with her that left them captivated.

Miles - the prowler, couldn't help but remember the time they were walking home together after a study session. (Y/N) had stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and he instinctively reached out to steady her. As their hands briefly touched, he felt a jolt of electricity, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled away, trying to hide his blush, but he couldn't forget how his heart had raced in that brief moment.

For Miles - RJ, it was the time they were at the local arcade, cheering each other on during a competitive game. (Y/N) had leaned in close, her laughter infectious and her eyes sparkling with excitement. In that moment, Miles felt an overwhelming warmth, as if he had found someone who truly understood him. Her support and genuine interest in his passions made him feel seen and valued in a way he had never experienced before.

Both twins found themselves looking forward to seeing (Y/N) at school every day, eager for the chance to talk and share moments with her. They noticed how her presence could brighten even the darkest days and how her playful banter with Miles - the prowler, left him confused but with a faint hint of a smile.

As they spent more time with her, they discovered shared interests and values that deepened their admiration for (Y/N). She was caring, compassionate, and fiercely loyal, always standing up for them and others when needed. The way she treated everyone with kindness, regardless of their reputation or background, earned her even more respect from the twins.

Miles - the prowler, found himself drawn to her strength and independence, a stark contrast to his own solitary nature. He admired the way she could hold her own and how she wasn't afraid to challenge him, refusing to back down from his teasing or sarcasm.

Miles - RJ, on the other hand, cherished her ability to make him feel at ease, like he could be himself without judgment or expectations. Her easygoing nature helped him open up, and he found himself sharing thoughts and feelings he had never shared with anyone else.

One day, while hanging out in the park, the twins decided to talk openly about their feelings for (Y/N). Sitting on a bench, they shared their different perspectives, realizing they both felt a deep connection with her that they couldn't ignore.

"I can't believe we both have a crush on her," RJ admitted with a blush.

"Yeah, it's... strange," his twin Miles said, trying to wrap his head around his own feelings. "But I can't deny that she's had an impact on both of us."

Miles - RJ nodded. "She makes us feel understood, you know? And she's just so caring and genuine."

Miles - the prowler, smirked. "Well, I hope you're not expecting me to back off. I don't give up that easily."

Miles - RJ chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But let's remember she's our friend first and foremost. We don't want to jeopardize that."

The twins agreed to keep their feelings in check and focus on cherishing the friendship they had with (Y/N). As they continued to spend time with her, they found comfort in knowing that they didn't have to face their feelings alone.

•••

After school, Miles - RJ and Miles - the prowler, found themselves unable to contain their feelings any longer. They knew they had to talk to (Y/N) about what they had been experiencing. With nervous excitement, they cornered her near the school's courtyard, determined to be honest and vulnerable.

"(Y/N),” Miles - RJ began, his voice slightly shaky. "We need to talk about something important."

(Y/N) turned to face them, her eyes curious. "Okay, what's up?"

Miles - the prowler, took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "We both... we both have feelings for you, (Y/N).”

Miles - RJ nodded, adding, "It's true. We didn't plan for this to happen, but we can't ignore how we feel about you."

(Y/N) blinked, seemingly taken aback by their confession. "Wait, you both have feelings for me?"

"Yeah," Miles - the prowler, confirmed, his voice earnest. "It's confusing and unexpected, but we can't change how we feel."

(Y/N)’s lips curled into a small smile. "Damn, well, I can't help but admit that I have feelings for you both too..."

“Both of us or…”

The twins looked at each other in shock, their hearts racing. It was a revelation they hadn't anticipated, and the rush of emotions was overwhelming.

Before they could say anything else, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. (Y/N) glanced at them, her expression a mix of emotions.

"I’ll leave a note in your locker after school" she said, stepping back.

“Wait which one of us?!” Miles - the prowler asked.

“You’ll see…”

Torn between anticipation and uncertainty, Miles -RJ and Miles - the prowler, spent the evening restless, eager to meet (Y/N) the next day and finally find out what the future held for them.

The night passed in a blur, and the next day arrived faster than they expected. When Miles finally reunited with (Y/N), the atmosphere was charged with tension and excitement.

"So," Y/N said, breaking the silence. "Seems you got my letter.”

“Yeah I did.”

Miles - RJ ending …

Miles - the prowler ending …

Both Miles ending …

(Haven’t written the endings yet but when I do I’ll have them tagged and listed)

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showtoonzfan · 6 months

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Hey it’s been a bit! The Mammon episode finally came out, so here’s my review!

Pros:

- The sign language scene was cute. Kinda weird that a kid was seeing a show that was clearly for adults but I love me some representation so it gets a pass.

- Despite Blitz not really needing to be in this episode, I thank god he had little screen time and more time was dedicated to Fizz.

- The fish ladies (despite having wonky color palettes that made them EXTREMELY hard to look at) were cute.

Cons:

- Mammon is so flat and uninteresting but I don’t know what I expected from a creator who always hypes her characters up that always end up being one of the three go-to personalities she picks for her male characters. In Mammon’s case he’s just a loud mouth cursing bum so way to ruin another Deadly Sin and make them boring af, moving on.

- I don’t like how Mammon and Fizz’s relationship are similar of Val and Angel’s, Viv keeps recycling stories, characters and plot lines ect, it makes Angel’s story for Hazbin really predictable/underwhelming and not exciting to look forward too especially since we already have the “mafia bad daddy” aspect to him too that they pulled for Moxxie. I guess the idea of Mammon being a controlling ruler is fine on paper but not much is done with it, Fizz just quits in the end like it was easy with zero consequences so what was all that build up for.

- Fizz himself once again feels REALLY out of character, he’s just too soft compared to how he was introduced in season 1. He’s constantly nervous in this episode and insecure, as well as walking on eggshells, and even in Oops he wasn’t THIS sensitive. I’m all for characters struggling and being kicked down but it has to make sense and not feel forced, and once again it feels like Viv is trying way to hard to make the characters she once introduced as snarky assholes to uwu innocent babies. I refuse to believe Fizz was actually INTIMIDATED by this random geeky imp who insulted him, as well as the fish ladies whom he was weirdly nice and welcoming to. It’s also weird seeing how uncomfortable/nervous he was around his fans when I thought the whole point was that he LOVED praise and loved being famous, at least that was season 1 Fizz. Now he feels retconned. Seeing him say “I just need this gig” is weird too, the explanation to why he went through all of this makes no sense, Fizz still has Ozzie and is famous in the Lust ring, and I understand Mammon is his idle but to go through all that abuse for so long for something that could have been so easily avoided feels forced to fit the plot, but it also makes Fizz look dumb.

- There’s confusing lore stuff regarding Mammon and Ozzie, and it makes me realize that Viv should have picked ONE storyline aka ONE Seven Deadly sin to go with Fizz’s story because this is getting mixed up. Fizz acts like if he looses this completion, he looses everything, which confused the heck out of me because no he wouldn’t have? First of all, Ozzie is a fucking powerful sin, how would you loose him? Second, from what we know from season 1, Fizz is a jester who performs at Ozzie’s club. It was Ozzie who built the sex robots across the rings of hell, NOT Mammon, and in season 2 we see that Fizz is under Ozzie’s care and lives in his house. Yet for some weird reason Mammon also represents Fizz and uses him for profit, but it’s not really explained in a way that makes sense, like Love’s art had said in her Fizz redesign video, Fizz’s job is really confusing on what exactly he does. Having both Ozzie and Mammon represent him overcomplicates things and the show did a poor job at explaining how this goes.

- Once again Viv dumps trauma and struggle onto her characters without building it up first. When did Fizz ever give off the impression that he was being controlled or abused, or even that he was so insecure and constantly walked on eggshells to be perfect. In Oops he was happy to be in the spotlight and happy to get the attention, he bragged to Blitz about how successful he was. He seemed happy to perform for Mammon and talked of him highly, and now you’re pulling an Angel Dust situation where he’s expected to be perfect 24/7 and it gets to him emotionally, while also being someone who’s physically and mentally abused. Yet another season 2 episode that wasn’t planned, same as how Millie wanting to feel important wasn’t planned, same as how Stolas seeing Blitz as genuine love wasn’t planned. Different episode, same issues.

- I’m so done with the Hell lore bro, this place officially has no rules and demons can just do anything without consequences. There’s no class system, there’s no rankings, there’s no power dynamics, screw anything that Viv says. There was no fucking reason why Ozzie and Fizz’s relationship needed to be a secret. There was no reason showing Ozzie threatening his workers to not tell anyone about his love life if he was just going to admit it to EVERYONE THE NEXT EPISODE IN FRONT OF ANOTHER SIN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME— what was the POINT. What is the point of Stolas and Blitz’s conflict. What is the point of Stella being classist. What is the point of these class systems and rules if you can just announce that you technically broke a hell rule and no one gives a fuck and you get off scott free. Mammon telling Ozzie “you’ll regret that” like a cartoon villain doesn’t do anything either. What is he ganna do? Tell Lucifer, the character that canonically won’t appear in HB because the sins won’t appear in HH? If Lucifer rules over the sinners, who the fuck is in charge for the rest of Hell. Where’s the authority? And Mammon is just ganna come back for another episode to give the gang trouble cause lord knows we don’t have enough fucking villains already.

- It feels weird that Ozzie would just sit back while someone whom he knows is a piece of shit is treating his loved one badly. I get he was concerned but you’d think one of the seven deadly sins would have more power and authority.

- I was expecting some big gross bug-like thing to appear when Mammon was transforming into his final form, only for it to the exact same design but with small extra eyes and a spider lower half that isn’t even visible in most shots….GOD VIV.

Watching this episode also made me remind myself that this is supposed to be Hell. Seeing Fizz feel better and stand up for himself was sweet but these soft lessons and morals don’t belong in a show like this, and it’s extra aggravating regarding Viv’s double standard, how she can just pick and choose which characters she wants to be evil and which characters are saints. Overall not anywhere near the worst episode of season 2, but I am officially done with Helluva Boss so-

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #anti vivziepop #helluva boss

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 7 months

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ok so like objectively yes ed did things wrong but not only do i personally feel no negative emotions about any of that, i swear it would make more sense tonally with the rest of the show to NOT make a huge chunk of s2 be about ed facing the consequences for and redeeming himself from the marooning/pushing lucius overboard/izzy toe thing. like if im wrong i’m wrong and it’s whatever but i really really think the focus will be more on ed’s internal emotional state and how his choices were informed by trauma and how he’s going to learn to heal more than it’s gonna be like, Ed Learns It’s Wrong To Maroon People And Force Feed People Their Own Toes. like if anything i think it’ll be Ed Learns That He Deserves To Be Happy And He Also Realizes That Marooning People And Force Feeding People Their Own Toes Is An Unhealthy Coping Skill That Negatively Affects His Mental Health And He Learns New, Healthier Coping Strategies. like i think the focus of coming out of the kraken era is going to be almost entirely on ed’s feelings, and any mention of how his actions harmed the rest of the cast will be brief and/or it’ll primarily be played for comedy

which yes irl this would kinda suck to have some guy respond to getting his heart broken (and other stuff) by killing and maiming people and then have his whole journey of self-discovery be solely abt him and not any of the people he’s hurt. HOWEVER a biiiiiig part of the humor of the show is that the characters are experiencing some very real and very relatable self-esteem issues and insecurities and vulnerabilities, and all of that is placed on a backdrop of comedically gratuitous pirate violence. like this is a romcom and ed is basically going through the classic emotional beats of the romcom heroine getting her heart broken and eating a whole tub of ice cream and crying in her room for days before becoming cold and distant and “love is dead” edgy, only the joke is that bc he’s a pirate his “love is dead” romcom era includes some people actually literally dying. izzy and the crew all just happen to be in the blast radius for this joke, and while we as fans might love and care abt those characters too, the plain fact is that ed and stede are the main characters and the other characters’s feelings or storylines or internal motivations simply do not matter nearly as much to the show as theirs (with the exception of maybe jim, and also maybe olu depending on how s2 goes). and that’s literally just how romcoms work. this sort of “protagonist bias” is like, a core part of this kind of story.

and there’s nothing wrong with not vibing with the story because of that. if season two comes and goes and you aren’t happy with how the show handled the consequences of ed’s actions in e10 that’s fine, nobody has to feel any specific way about this show. but if i’m right and this is how s2 plays out and some of y’all don’t like this, the problem is not that ofmd is bad. the problem is just that this is not the story you wanted or expected to be told.

i DO think, tho, that there’s something very powerful abt a character like this being a queer indigenous man. he’s a gay romcom protagonist and narratively speaking his feelings trump all. this is a queer romcom that uses gratuitous slapstick violence as a punchline and where the queer main characters are allowed to get violent and unhinged about their feelings, and at the end of the day they ultimately get a pass bc it’s a gay romcom and the show is about them. like literally that description itself is more than i could’ve ever dreamed of from any tv show ever, and THEN you’re telling me that one of the main characters is indigenous???? it’s been a year and a half and s2 is right around the corner and i swear to god i still can’t believe this show actually exists. we don’t GET shows like this, we don’t GET characters like this. ed teach is such a fucking blessing of a character and i love him with all my heart.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 #ofmd speculation #ofmd s2 speculation #edward teach #ed teach #edward teach born on a beach #s2 predictions #txt #meta #mine #og #this is why im unironically on team “ed did nothing wrong”#the show gives us very realistic depictions of emotional trauma #and slapstick looney toons depictions of physical trauma

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a-shoebox-named-meap · 10 months

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aight. have some nimona canon divergence AU fic ideas because i’m no writer but i AM going insane

as a huge fan of canon divergence AUs where One Small Decision Changes Everything™ i can’t stop thinking about little bits and pieces from the nimona movie like:

what if the squire had shown ambrosius the video (ohh a fic like this would be Delicious) (mm ambrosius x squire tag team) (ballister’s two biggest fans) (this might be one of my favorite ideas so far) (lots of potential here i feel like)

now there have been a lot of people asking “let’s feel some ANGST what if real ambrosius had walked into the director’s office before nimona” but i will take that and raise you: what if ambrosius had walked in while nimona was doing her thing in the director’s office. perhaps around the time when the director stabbed fake!ambrosius. please consider. may the chaos ensue

ballister had noticed his sword-laser-cannon powering up and moved it away from the queen but it hit something else! or someOne else! (or it killed the queen anyway but still hit somebody else in the process) (oh gods what if it took off his own arm) (or even ambrosius’s—) (can you imagine the kinda twist that would occur if he took off ambrosius’s arm by accident and ballister not resting until he found out who the real culprit is skdjdjdjdjddj) (oh but wait let me make this WORSE what if he hit ambrosius instead of the queen ((don’t worry ambrosius is wearing armor, he doesn’t die he’s just,,, gravely injured?)) and ballister, even if he still gets framed for it, will stop at nothing to find out who did this to ambrosius) (now incorporate nimona into that storyline and hoohoohoo) (i’m rubbing my hands together like a maniacal fruit fly right now)

what if they had uploaded the squire’s video when they got it huh. what then. back it up to the cloud. or just TEXT it to ambrosius you Fool. you absolute Buffoon. (but perhaps this seemingly obvious course of action results in some unexpectedly dire consequences oh no—)

“ooh… nemesis.” “nemesis?” at which point nimona and ballister get stuck in the closet, nimona reveals her shapeshifting abilities, and oh, screw it, if ballister’s situation with his arm-chopping nemesis is really so cOmPLiCAteD then maybe since they’re breaking out of jail anyway they might as well kidnap ambrosius while they’re at it. aka the au where nimona breaks ballister out of jail and she takes ambrosius with them. (i am FEASTING on the possibilities of this one)

let’s take todd’s suspicion and blame directed towards ambrosius (“why didn’t you tell us ballister was working with whales?”) and dial that up to 100. slowly, though, not too fast, it’s gotta build momentum. let’s breed some mistrust in ambrosius. let’s see people refusing to let ambrosius lead the manhunt for ballister on account of their close relationship. let’s see people turn their backs on him thinking he was a conspirator. let’s see ambrosius losing the public’s favor. let’s see ambrosius starting to feel some doubt when he’s alone in his room — let’s see ambrosius wondering what if people are actually as wrong about ballister as he knows they are about ambrosius himself. (what if everybody hates ambrosius too—)

this one is not nearly as straightforward a canon divergence but ponder this: the director noticed the squire was there in the locker room (?) that day and swapped out the swords after the squire had left. or maybe she swapped it out before the squire was ever there. the squire never knew the director had been there. there was no video evidence. now what? up to you >:)

ok hear me out. the squire is a #1 ballister fan right. the squire is probably very careful with the swords and armor he handles. the squire is probably intimately familiar with the swords and other various weaponry and armaments of the institution. the squire is probably very familiar with ballister’s in particular. when ballister first picked up his swapped-out sword he noticed something was off about it, but what if — WHAT IF — the squire had noticed something was off about it first. now of course there’s Possibility #1 where he sees the director swap the sword, and then he checks out the sword and feels that something is wrong with it etc etc (or maybe he mistakes the sword change for an equipment upgrade) BUT now let’s combine this with the previous bullet point for Possibility #2 where the squire DIDN’T see the director swap the sword but he DID notice something was off about the sword before ballister did and actually investigated it. would he discover the hidden weapon, or not? if he did would he bring it to ballister’s attention? ambrosius’s? the director’s? what if he caught the hidden weapon but didn’t mention it and then the queen died and the squire was left fully believing ballister killed the queen (ballister knows mechanics, you’ve seen his arm, it’s plausible he built the weapon into his sword himself) and then ballister and nimona kidnapped him and interrogated him and ballister and the squire were left spiderman meme-ing each other like *points* “i thought YOU were behind all this!” and now the squire is an unwilling sidekick dragged into this by nimona and ballister to figure out who the real culprit is and there’s ACTION and ADVENTURE and COMEDY and it’s absolutely metal—

the squire really feels like a lynchpin in this story is all i’m sayin

if you can’t tell i’m also a fan of happy endings. in my brain most of these canon divergences result in a similar happy ending as the movie. except maybe faster (not always). which i enjoy because i’m sappy and silly anyway thank you and goodnight

#nimona #nimona fanfic #nimona fic #nimona netflix #nimona au #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona spoilers #nimona squire #nimona director #i don’t write fic but for the fic writers out there (i appreciate you all dearly) pls accept my humble offerings #i’m sure i’ll have more ideas later #my head is spinning #meap posts #nimona stuff

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gofancyninjaworld · 4 months

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The OPM Manga in 2023

By the numbers:

23 updates (most 14 days apart, shortest interval: 9 days, longest: 33 days).

662 pages (range 12 - 41 pages, mean page count: 29 pages).

Volumes published: 2 (Volumes 28 and 29). 1 bonus chapter included in Volume 28 -- Olfaction.

By the story:

Psychics and Temper Tantrums (chapters 176 - 184)

Well, the Monster Association is behind us but the fallout from it is slowly beginning to settle. Most of the heroes are now back at work and some of the consequences of a world that's increasingly scared of monster attacks are beginning to show up. The first quarter of the year was taken up with Tatsumaki's temper tantrum -- and Saitama once again daring a strong person to do their worst -- it's like he didn't learn his lesson with Garou, which disappoints me. [I love Saitama, but when brains were being handed out, he was not at the front of the queue.]

That said, even though I did not care one whit for Tatsumaki throwing Saitama around (it wasn't terrible, but really it could have been condensed into 1-2 chapters), the start of the Psychic Sisters arc was fantastic, and its ending was very interesting. I made a nuisance of myself at the start of it, pestering everyone in earshot with my excitement that Tatsumaki was taking Fubuki into her confidence to try getting Psykos out rather than trying to do everything herself.

Her complex feelings of disappointment, betrayal, and the sense that she'd made a mistake were some of the most complex and nuanced we'd seen in the story. She may be paranoid and misanthropic, but she's not crazy: there's a basis for her actions, and being knocked back just when she'd taken the risk of opening up was harsh. Unfortunately, Tatsumaki's default response is rage.. and I'm not going to waste time on recounting what happened then.

I felt pain for her here.

The end as well, expanding as it did on Tatsumaki's thoughts about how she'd accidentally woken Fubuki's psychic powers by scaring her so badly and the guilt she felt at having made her sister a target, was great. Her feelings about Blast are great, as this is the first time we get what she actually thinks of him. I still want her to learn that Blast doesn't work alone -- it'll blow her mind. The session ending with her giving the Fubuki group a chance to grow stronger and prove themselves is a fantastic development.

Even when she's giving someone a chance she still has to be scary.

Schemes (chapters 184, 187 - 191)

I really love how seamlessly the Psychic Sister arc flows into the next big theme: that of schemes and threats to the Hero Association's future. ONE has done a lot of work reworking the webcomic story so that the storyline is a coherent whole rather than two-three apparently unrelated storylines. Fubuki taking advantage of the chaotic aftermath to extract Psykos while securing immunity for her sister, and Tatsumaki brazenly using the HA's need to keep the rich clients sweet to scupper an investigation into Psykos's whereabouts was all clever. However, they're just amateurs and their antics played beautifully into McCoy's hands, who leveraged the crisis to make himself appear indispensible to the HA, thus making it very hard for him to be removed, even as he works to implicate the Hero Association in scandals (many of which he's running).

You can't call McCoy hasty: this guy has played a good long game.

The Hero Association is already having issues recruiting new heroes as they're going to Neo Heroes, which is also pinching existing heroes. However, it's not 100% going McCoy's way. Something I started praising in my review of chapter 173 is the greater self-efficacy of the characters in the manga. Sekingar and Sicchi haven't just been sitting on their hands watching McCoy sell the HA down the river. They've teamed up with Child Emperor to find out what he's really up to.

I think that this is the best cover of 2023: a collection of individuals who embody heroism, whether or not they're recognised as such or work in 'regular' ways. Well, there's one impostor…

Critically, they're not assuming that the Neo Heroes are necessarily evil: they want to understand what this outfit is actually doing. After all, heroism is heroism, no matter what guise it takes. To see that Sekingar has so earned Metal Bat's respect that the latter follows him into the heart of danger did my heart good [1].

Please, my poor heart, it'll burst if things get much more awesome.

Ninjas, Ninnies, Nintendos (193 - 199, ongoing)

That Blast has some connection to the ninjas from Sonic's Ninja Village has been clear for a long time in the webcomic. [2] However, it is only here in the manga that we're getting a full explanation of what that connection is.

Yes, yes, my partner may be a monster but he's a useful monster.

The intertwined story of Blast and his attempts to reach his former partner, Empty Void, who was also running a horrifying 'school' for grooming boys into assassins, and that of Flashy Flash and Speed o' Sound Sonic isn't done yet, but it looks to be reaching at least one turning point. It's a pity that the fan translators stopped translating the cover text because that for chapter 199 was incredibly pertinent: 'Staring at the back of a friend you used to stand shoulder to shoulder with.' Sonic has so much to process.

And like that, Sonic's world has been turned upside down.

Since Blast has an ongoing relationship with Empty Void, we get troubling questions as to how long Blast had known about the Village and whether he disapproved, or had been content to ignore it as long as he had his partner by his side and found his talents indispensible. It's going to be interesting when those two meet! Also, if Blast is hoping to reverse Empty Void's monsterization, he'd better hope that the guy isn't like most people who became monsters. Most ex-human monsters *want* to be that way and there doesn't seem to be a good way to undo it. Well, maybe if you chop them up, have Phoenixman (oops, he seems to have lost his powers) resurrect them, then shock them incredibly hard, that might work. It's unlikely that anyone present can deduce what happened to Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame, much less put all the working parts of that together.

Still, they're going to try. This *is* going to be interesting. Also, potentially heartbreaking.

Reappearances

Genos: the disciple returns to his duty

Unlike the webcomic, Genos has not been completely absent. He's been quite busy: helping Saitama recover their apartment, meeting the Hero Association to discuss important matters, and also, hanging out with Saitama as a friend rather than as a disciple. It's been fun to see that he's finally ditched his flip phone for a smart one, heheh.

Nevertheless, it's not until Dr Kuseno finishes his new upgrade that Genos sets foot in Saitama's house, formally reporting for duty, so to speak. I praise Saitama's self-discipline and good sense in not breaking eye contact and in politely ignoring his disciple's new-found exhibitionism until he had the sense to put a shirt on [3].

Less positive, it's been painful to see that Genos is frustrated at how he doesn't seem to have grasped the kind of growth he's looking for and is unsure whether Saitama truly sees him. It's not been helped by Saitama trying to reassure him, pulling his best 'Reigen' face and instead made everything worse. There are two interesting shames, which will surely be built on at some point. 1: We see Saitama seeing Genos's strength but he doesn't say anything. 2: Genos is right that the strength that comes from within is different from that granted to one by upgrades. We see in another chapter from Nichirin, that having artificial parts is no hindrance to pulling out that great inner strength. The funny thing is that Genos has shown that kind of strength before, when he was fighting Elder Centipede, but he doesn't know it.

Ah, despite everything, those fools are no better at speaking to each other than they were before! It'd be hilarious if it weren't so tragic.

Rarely have the words 'open your mouth and solve your problems' been more apposite. Sadly, that's exactly what they don't do.

Garou: the other disciple tries to learn duty

Now this really threw a lot of fans for a loop -- ONE making clear that he's aware of how young Garou actually is. It was very easy to read Garou as a guy in his early twenties, but strip away the pretensions and he's really young. His over-simple understanding of what was wrong with the world and his over-large sense of responsibility to fix it are thoughts of a teen. It's just a good thing that teenagers don't have world-shattering power, and so can be extreme and wrong without hurting anyone. But it has really jarred with a lot of fans.

I may be giving Bang the side eye as he implements his idea of reformation (apparently, it involves hitting Garou over the head often), but the sense of lightness Garou feels at having a reliable mentor, the relief he undoubtedly feels at having a way to work his crimes off -- being a social outcast may seem cool in a 'reject-the-corrupt-world' way but it gets old fast -- and being able to contribute meaningfully to the dojo's re-establishment is palpable.

His life is sure to start sucking again soon, but for now, it's a joy to see him.

Let him gambol for now. Go Garou!

King: ugh

Sorry, King just irritates me some days and this was one of them. Not because he was running around trying to find someone who could help him: that was fine. But because, unlike the webcomic, once Saitama told him to work out, he's continuing to stick around and play videogames. In a world where everyone is trying their best to make sense of their world and help themselves in some way, however imperfect, the sight of this poster child for mediocre white men overpromoted for looking the part continuing to laze about just pisses me off.

Let him start helping himself and I will praise him.

He's been told what to do but he's not doing it.

GAY!

This year, ONE said: here, my children, I have brought you a pint of homo milk. Drink. What else are we to make of Fubuki triumphantly cradling Psykos as she makes a clean getaway?

This has to be the smuggest 'got the girl' face I've ever seen.

Or Blast continuing to call Empty Void his partner, despite everything that the guy has done, including turning into a monster? He wants him back so badly, and though he says it's strictly professional interest, we think the man doth protest too much.

And then whatever's going on with these two:

Flashy Flash, you ain't got no business calling Blast soft when you're handing Sonic tissues and smiling at him.

Fandom Follies

Do we need to do this? Yup! This year, we discovered that a lot of dudebros who have been against the idea of romance in OPM have just been shippers afraid to come out and own it. The sheer number of Saitama x Tatsumaki fans has been incredible. Nothing wrong with SaiTatsu but the obnoxiousness of fans new to shipping has been hard to tolerate. Learn some manners, folks!

Asides

[1] I think this is great foreshadowing of something Forte says later in the webcomic to paraphrase, risking your life for another hero is something you do as a favour for a friend, not because someone's declared themselves the boss of you and ordered it. It's nice to see Sekingar embodying that ideal.

[2] It's hard to believe it, but to this day (chapter 149), Blast is not yet seen in the webcomic. At this rate, he'll show up at the very end to get jobbed by God (no ID), but not before giving an over-long exposition about what he's been up to. That is, if he's not already dead, only nobody knows yet.

[3] I can see SaiGenos shippers worried that my saying that it's good that Saitama isn't taking Genos up on his obvious attraction means that I might be disapproving of the ship. That is not the case. I'm going to assume that most of us here are old enough to vote, enter into contracts, and pay taxes and so can think of things with nuance and context. A fandom that needs the reassurance of canon to decide what's permissible is a weak, timid, and pallid imitation of one, and one I want no part of. For certain, we're here to discuss the story as it exists, but please, we're also here to consider and explore scenarios and make works that cannot and often should not exist in the canon because they are FUN. Even more pertinent, ONE is on record as LOVING that fans spend their time and creativity doing things with his stories. So please, don't allow any in-universe discussions on what is helpful or unhelpful in the story affect what you draw and write! PLEASE SHIP! Gimme!

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nardo-headcanons · 2 months

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it's been an age since i've been into naruto, and now that i have plans on making my own version on how naruto shippuden ended, i was wondering, how do you think naruto shippuden should've ended? like are you pro or anti naruhina? pro or anti sasusaku? whats your opinions on how the fourth war was played out? if you already spoke about this i'm sorry lol but im just wondering.

OMG HIIIIIIII @ofrolysdogs you're one of my OGs! How have you been????? Please please tag me or let me know once you create your rework. that sounds so intriguing!

This post is gonna be controversial, beauties.

How do you think Naruto Shippuden should've ended?

Ideally, with Naruto realizing that he doesn't need to become hokage to get the attention and validation from the people he loves and cares about. Or at the very least, with Naruto becoming hokage but abolishing the shinobi system. Maybe even make Danzo hokage along the way, just when Tsunade falls into her coma, and slowly make Naruto question the system more and more. Also, Sasuke's whole "redemption" arc should have been handled differently. First and foremost, he was a victim. He did a few things that were wrong, and I agree that there need to be consequences, but for this redemption arc I'd rather have him travel around and teach people around the world about the customs and culture of the Uchiha.

Are you pro or anti naruhina? pro or anti sasusaku?

I am both Anti NaruHina and Anti SasuSaku, but for two different reasons. I used to be a hardcore SNS shipper, but not so much nowadays. NaruHina had so much potential, they could have explored their class and privilege differences together, learning from each other and stuff. But Neji dying for their ship to sail? That was a hate crime. The reason I'm Anti SasuSaku is because I simply don't really like the thought of shipping Sasuke with anyone. He has enough to go through and putting him in a romantic relationship is not something that would make it more interesting or add stakes to it, although I wouldn't mind seeing him adopt a kid or two, given how family oriented Sasuke is.

Whats your opinions on how the fourth war was played out? I found the use of Edo tensei very interesting, albeit a little cheapened here and there. The Itachi and Sasuke vs Kabuto fight was a little disappointing. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing he two of them fight together side by side, and Itachi's final parting was very touching - but them fighting Kabuto of all people? Maybe if Kishi fleshed out Kabuto's story a little more, he clearly had no idea what to do with him. Poor bastard.

Madara just 'knowing' the hand signs of edo tensei is actually not so unlikely, but it still irks me how he was able to just "come back" when Edo Tensei was released.

And let's not talk about the power scaling, which went completely through the roof in the end. Oof. Kaguya, as is, ruined the storyline completely. It could have worked, but not in the way it was executed in shippuden.

But alas, I suppose there is only so much Kishi can do within the confines of a genre.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto meta #naruto opinions #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #pro sasuke #anti konoha

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casey-wont-eat-paste · 4 months

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I’m gonna be talking about the finale of season three so if you don’t want spoilers scroll on

They all cleared out? Good.

Honestly, I felt kind of disappointed with the finale, the battle was great, the buildup and the resolution of the characters that we have grown to know and love throughout the series was great, but.

And this is a really big but.

The actual finale of the show, the last few minutes we got with these characters, not Nine or Thorn or Dread or Rebel but the characters we started out with Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Rouge felt bland. it made the entire series feel inconsequential, the way that everything was just better now, Sonic and Shadow were the only ones who learned anything, and we have no resolution to any of the other storylines. What happened in New York now that the egg are taken down? What adventures does captain Rose lead her crew on? How does the boscage maze grown to live in Harmony? Is nine just living in isolation now? And how do each of these universes function without their respective prism shards?

Of course, none of these questions take in the theory that each of the shatter spaces was a part of Greenhill, that each of the characters are a part of the ones that Sonic knows them as, but I feel like that theory would be better illustrated if we got a little more time with the og characters, If they could talk about this weird shared dream, Or contemplate the validity of their memories. Or if the characters themselves didn’t want to address it they could have the visual image of the shatter spaces colliding into each other.

I appreciate the hug that sonic gave Eggman, I think that was cute and funny but the fact that the battle proceeded with basically no consequences felt bland.

Overall the finale felt incomplete for me, but feel free to debate me on this, I’m actually really interested to see other people’s opinions of this finale.

Anyway here’s my interpretation of how I think an extra few minutes in the show could’ve gone.

We open up on New Yolk in shambles, robots are destroyed, the buses and trains that were used for transportation are powered off and the people are celebrating. The oppressive rule of the egg is no more and they are finally free. They establish a democracy or other political system, and their entire worlds technology is set back due to the absence of the prism shard, people are hopeful, there is a future for New Yolk, one that is safe for everyone.

Captain Rose collaboratively, with her pirate crew, decides to hunt for a new treasure, discovering other people, the mainland, and the giant gemstone said to hold immense power.

The scavengers live at peace with the forest, taking what they need and learning to give back as well, protecting its life from the inside.

nine lives in isolation, but slowly realizes that if he looks far enough there are inhabitants in the grim (because I refuse to believe there’s just this incomplete universe) and he’s able to make friends, even if it’s difficult

And Sonic knows, he knows he made a huge mistake and that he was lucky to fix it. Shadow knows to. But sonic has his friends, he has his friends he knows he can rely on and that he needs to listen to. And together, nothing can stop them.

(Or yk nine could be a interdimensional superhero who makes sure that other universes don’t break like his almost did, whatever you want)

#sonic prime season 3 #sonic prime #Sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic prime spoilers #shadow the hedgehog #this is just my two cents

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elliezlils11utt · 3 months

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Bad idea - girl in red. (E.W)

content: You cant get your on & off ex, Ellie Williams, out of your head. So you decide to call her over.

song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/57j65yC2HggQfmYNc6rdOK?si=2416f86b42e84be8

warnings: nsfw, hate sex, angst, smut, mean!ellie, degration, reader is a hot shit mess. (me!) if i missed anything lemme know!

a/n: Im still sick asf and my phone is broken so ive kinda just been writing the past few days. this is not my best work, like at all. (its so bad) but the storyline is kinda interesting. (based on "bad idea"- girl in red)

proofread?: none of my work is ever proofread lmao.

You and Ellie had been broken up for a couple months now. But of course you had not been able to get her slick ass smile out of your head. She plagued your thoughts, being the only thing you could think of. She was the worst partner you could ever have. But, god was she ethereal.

So when you sat at the edge of your bed with her image glued to the inside of your eyelids you picked up your phone. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Did you care? Nope. You sat there staring at the past messages. The fights, then the make up texts. Then more fucking fights.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Contemplating the mistake you were about to make. Its like she was a fucking drug you were addicted too. You couldn't get enough of her, even If you tried. Which you really did this time. Really hard. This had been the longest you and Ellie had stayed apart. Ever. You always somehow ended up back with her. Ignoring the pleas of your family and friends to dump her ass for good this time. It was a bad idea, to think you could stop. Because now here you were, your phone up to your ear with Ellie on the other line.

“Hey, ellie?” You stumble over your words.

“Hey.” Fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Her voice.

“Uh- um. What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing.”

“Wanna come over? Like, for a smoke.” bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

What you can only assume is an amused chuckle muffles the phone line. “Sure.”

“Kay, cool! Uh, see you soon?”

“Mhm.”

The line ends abruptly. Oh fuck. Ellies coming over. Again. Fuck why did you do that? Your totally fucked now. You spend the following minutes pacing around your house. One little horny butt dial can turn into a series of bad decisions. You knew this. Yet Ellie is sitting across from u on your coach. Blunt in mouth, eyes on u.

“You know, ive missed us.” she admits while passing the weed to you. You take a drag of the blunt, ignoring her blatant attempt to ‘win you back’ (it was working)

“Why did you call me over..?”

“You want the truth?”

She just stares back at you with those droopy red eyes of hers. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Im horny. and i missed you.” Smoking always makes the whole truth come out of you. Even if you didn't want it to.

“Yeah?” There it is. That cocky lopsided smirk.

“Yeah.” Blowing the smoke out of your mouth you lean closer to her. And she does the same. The tension makes the air thick and foggy. A competition to see who will break first. (that she always wins) and surly this time was no different. You close the gap between you two. Pressing your lips onto hers. She cups your face with her hands, desperately pulling you farther into her. She put her hands under your shirt. Undid your bra and said these words. “Darlin you're so pretty it hurts” breaking the kiss she pulls your shirt over your head. And threw your clothes down on the floor. Your brain goes numb. Allowing Ellie to take complete control. All you can think about is her lips on yours. Too busy thinking about the wet kisses trailing down your neck to worry about the consequence to this pleasure.

She said “darling are you ready for more?” Her hands found your tits rubbing the fatty flesh in her hands while she kissed your collarbones. Her lips pecked kisses down your body. Her tattooed hand slipped down and into your painties, feeling your heat. her finger explored your slippery folds. You throw your head back while whimpers leave your mouth. She plunges a finger into your sopping cunt. “F- Fuck els”

“Yeah? You like that pretty girl? You missed my fingers, yeah?”

You just nod repeatedly. Another finger finds its way into your cunt. Her digits curl into you relentlessly.

“Words baby.”

“Fuck els. Yes. y- yes.” You moan

“Fucking slut.” she chuckles before returning her mouth onto your tit. Her tongue swirling around your pebbled bud and her fingers pumping in and out of your pussy makes your back arch. But you can't help but be pissed at yourself for letting her bring you this pleasure after the pain she caused you. This is wrong. You shouldn't be doing this. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ellie. Ellie stop.” you push her head away.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted this.”

“I do, I mean. At least I thought I did.” You quickly throw your shirt back on.

“I don't get it?”

“It was a bad idea, calling you up. I shouldn't have said anything. We are bad together ellie. I fucked up.” guilt rushes over you. You shouldn't have said anything. And that was the truth. You told yourself that you would never get back with Ellie again. Ever. You told yourself that you would never let ellie fuck you again. You told yourself that you wouldn't let Ellie get in your head again. “I need to be alone. Just, go? Please.”

“Yeah alright. Call me when u wanna finish this, kay? Cause u always do” She says bluntly before rolling her eyes and leaving. A tear breaks free from your glossy eyes. Thats fucking problem. She thinks that you will call her again. Because ‘you always do.’ And she's not wrong. You always end up calling her again, Whenever u get lonely, or horny, or miss her. Who the fuck would miss Ellie, fucking, Williams? You. You miss her. Because you can't get enough.

a/n: I apologize for this. :D

#tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou #ellie tlou #bad idea #girl in red #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #the last of us 2

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theflyindutchwoman · 2 months

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What did you think of Nolan,Bailey and their storyline this episode ? And the episode of their wedding ?

Let me preface this by saying that if you are a fan of Bailey & Nolan, you might not want to read my answer. As always, this is only personal. I mean no disrespect to anyone who loves this pairing.

I have reached a point where I simply couldn't care less about these two. I can't even say I hate them or anything. I just… don't care. And that's pretty much how I felt about their wedding storyline - from the proposal to the honeymoon. On the bright side, I did like her dress and her vows. That's it. Oh and the bachelor/bachelorette parties… But they weren't even the focus : it was more about Tim and Lucy than Bailey and Nolan.

If anything, that whole wedding storyline encapsulates everything that bother me with this pairing. It was completely over the top, too cliché. Instead of focusing on one or two problems so they could be properly developed, it almost felt like the writers used all the tropes they could think of for drama's sake. Now, it wouldn't be so bad if it were the first or second time. But these two, somehow, always find themselves in these unbelievable situations… to the point that it becomes more boring than entertaining since it never leads to anything substantial. I know it's a show and I expect some drama but I need some balance too. If the writers can't be bothered to give them some depth, why should I care? I mean, awesome, they can fight (and I love me some good old Battle Couple Trope). But what about the character development?

Like the proposal. It happened right after a huge traumatic moment for both Nolan and Bailey. And all we got was John crying for a total of 5 seconds. Show me the struggle and the guilt he had to feel for not pulling the trigger and thinking he had lost the love of his life. I'm not saying that he was right or wrong. But I need to see him dealing with the consequence of that decision. And what about Bailey? How did she feel about being targeted, about dying and about John's choice? We don't know. And if that wasn't bad enough, her death was treated as a running joke one episode later. Compare this to Tim's feeling of guilt for pushing Lucy to go on that date… to Lucy's feeling of guilt for Chris being targeted by Rosalind… to Chris' struggle with his trauma. We got none of that for John and Bailey and they're supposed to be the main couple.

And that's exactly the same issue with the wedding and honeymoon. So many things went wrong but that was it. Well, to be fair, maybe we'll see Bailey and Nolan struggle with almost getting killed (again) in the next episodes… But I'm not holding my breath. Their honeymoon was the worst for me : the lack of passion was absolutely jarring… It's a freaking honeymoon! Why would they spend so much time focused on their cameras and weird neighbours?! Are they this bored of each other? (the way it was filmed didn't help at all).

#ask & ye shall receive #the rookie #I'm not sure how to tag this #but I don't want to upset anyone who likes this pairing so I won't tag the characters just in case

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autumnslance · 1 year

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The Unsundered and Tempering

There's apparently some kinda post going around ruffling jimmies about the Ascians versus the Ancients, with extreme assumptions about a society we see precious little of ourselves in game and mostly get informed of by people still grieving it millennia later.

Most of them antagonists, that like many other antagonists and allies, folks seem to want to take at face value for a lot of what they say, while often ignoring what they do and how, while speaking.

This is something I have noticed among fandom and roleplayers for decades, so it's nothing new, but there's a lot of times the text of any situation is making it clear that even if a character isn't outright lying--even thinks they are being "honest"--that is not necessarily the case.

It also comes back to making sure one is using all the available information--goodness knows I've made a fool of myself before by missing scenes or text that did explain someone's position on lore and characters!

Regardless of how one feels about certain plot points, storylines, or characters, they all inform each other in canon. Different characters say different things at different times in different company. A scene from two expansions ago may inform a new patch cutscene. Actions may contradict words. It all works together.

For an example, since it's come up elsewhere, I've had doubts about how Tempered the Unsundered were from the moment Emet-Selch claimed it, due to one of the last scenes in ARR, cutscene #5 in "Before the Dawn" where we see Lahabrea and Elidibus speak just before Urianger arrives in response to the Emissary's request for a meeting:

Lahabrea: The earth is fertile, and the seeds well sown. By my will, they shall reap salvation unlike any the world has known. Elidibus: By His will. Lahabrea: …By His will.

The Ascians in ARR and HW spend a lot of time telling the WoL about their One True God. Here though, in a moment of privacy before the Archon's arrival, Elidibus has to remind Lahabrea to check his ego as his actions are for Zodiark, not himself.

This is an early indication, alongside Nabriales's actions in the previous patch quests, that not everyone's on the same page in regards to the Ascian agenda. Nor is Zodiark's hold on each red mask absolute--even the ones initially at His summoning.

EDIT: Not to mention Fandaniel's actions in their entirety in Shadowbringers and Endwalker; killing one's god to usher in the end of the world is not the act of a tempered man!

Further doubt is placed on Emet-Selch's claim by Tiamat. We get more of her situation in the Shadowbringers patches, in the "Righteous Indignation" cutscene:

Tiamat: Recall, mortals, that it was I who did first summon my beloved, praying with all my being to bring him forth. You who contend with eikons cannot well be ignorant of the consequence. Alphinaud: …You too were exposed to his influence. That you are yet in possession of your own will is testament to the indomitable strength of your soul. Alphinaud: But were you to meet with Bahamut again, you fear you might succumb. Tiamat: Indeed. Ask the dragonslayer, and he will tell thee the power we of the first brood wield. Were I to lose myself to the eikon's influence, all would pay the price. Tiamat: But it is of little matter. For even had I the strength to resist, I yet lack the strength to break my shackles. This prison shall be my tomb. Alisaie: On the matter of Bahamut's influence, at least, I believe we can be of some assistance. Alisaie: If you're afraid of being enthralled, don't be─we have a cure. And while we've never tried it on one such as you, its basic principles are universal. Tiamat: Speakest thou in earnest? Alphinaud: There is no future for those bound to the past. Alphinaud: That you committed a terrible sin, I do not dispute. But if you feel remorse, you may yet make amends. We offer you that chance. Take it, or you will forever remain a prisoner, not of these cruel shackles, but of your own guilt. Tiamat: A chance to make amends… To lay Bahamut's memory to rest… Tiamat: When our own star faced annihilation, Hydaelyn granted us sanctuary. And now your foes would bring about Her destruction. This I cannot allow. For the debt I owe to Hydaelyn, and to all who have suffered for my sins…I shall fight with you, children of man.

Tiamat is a victim of the purposefully corrupted summoning magic the Ascians distributed. Yet she is not entirely enthralled by the Bahamut she summoned; she fears she would be if she were exposed further to a primal. Tiamat, as a Great Wyrm of the First Brood, is more akin in her aetheric composition to the Unsundered than most others on Hydaelyn. She knows she is influenced by the primal she summoned, and part of her remaining bound is to protect herself and the world from that consequence.

And then she chooses the cure and to move forward with her life, when given the option. As do other enthralled figures among the tribes when granted the option.

While there wasn't yet a cure when still fighting the Unsundered, entreaties to end their crusade and move forward fell on deaf ears--but I doubt very much it was due to Zodiark's influence entirely, and more their own stubborness after having clung to this course for ages.

The first cutscene of "Unto the Heavens" in Endwalker presents finally the intersection of original creation magic and modern summoning, as preparations are made to board the Ragnarok:

Livingway: You've done a fine job of readying the Ragnarok, but for it to take flight, we'll of course need the power of the Mothercrystal. Livingway: Given its immense size, however, transporting it would be an absolute logistical nightmare. Not to mention we'd need to shatter it into tiny shards for feeding to the engines. Livingway: But a brilliant idea came to me: we convert the crystal's energy into forms that can transport themselves! Urianger: Thou wouldst employ summoning…or should I say its precursor─creation magicks. Thancred: Care to explain for our benefit? Urianger: As you may have witnessed at Bestways Burrow, the Loporrits are capable of creation magicks, which they use to shape the moon's environment. Urianger: Yet simple though they make it seem, 'tis a highly advanced and exacting art. To perform it correctly requireth that the wielder holdeth the object in his mind's eye in clearest detail. Alphinaud: Hence the ancients' meticulous management of concepts. Urianger: Drawing upon this art, the Ascians conceived of summoning as we know it. Urianger: A derivative that replaceth the complexity of concepts with the simplicity of zealotry to make manifest a creation. Y'shtola: I see… By combining the Loporrits' magicks and the tribes' faith, we convert the Mothercrystal into primals of purer form and greater obedience. Y'shtola: Summoning as it was intended, one might say. Livingway: Indeed, indeed! Livingway: While Hydaelyn gave us the ability to use creation magicks, She forbade us from using it to make anything possessed of a soul─or similar. Livingway: She didn't say anything about fulfilling the desires of others, though. So! Borrowing our friends' faith, we'll create deities using the Mothercrystal's power, and send them to the Ragnarok! Alisaie: Am I the only one here concerned about the risk of being turned into a tempered minion? Livingway: Oh, right, I was getting to that… From what I've read in Sharlayan tomes, it appears the Ascians incorporated an additional nasty element into their summoning method: the fervent desire to assimilate others into one's belief. Livingway: Beings thus created are instilled with the selfsame desire, and use their powers to enthrall people─starting with the summoner. Livingway: In contrast, our creation magicks─the original and the best, accept no substitutes─don't incorporate any of that rubbish, so there's no risk of tempering. I mean, if the being was on the scale of Zodiark, you might feel a little “tug”…but I think we'll be safe enough.

From what we get here, summoning is quite obviously an offshoot of the original creation energies of the Ancients, but twisted by the thinness of the sundered mortals' aether and using faith and collected aether as a substitute. The tempering part was a later, intentional addition, possibly after the Unsundered had opportunity to examine the effect of Zodiark's summoning on themselves and extrapolating that.

Now, is some of this likely retconning to explain discrepancies in how characters acted and how tempering has been used? Probably! There was supposedly a rewrite of the main Ascian/Hydaelyn/Zodiark storyline, inherited from 1.0, which Stormblood allowed the time and consideration going forward on how they wanted to resolve this long arc. There's a lot in ARR and HW that has been recontextualized to fit, though some things still stand out a bit oddly; they did as good a job as they could, especially given the many years and writers involved.

But from the more recent writings, the intention is not to excuse the Unsundereds' actions with "they were tempered." And the final proof comes from Emet-Selch in Ultima Thule in cutscene #4 of "You Are Not Alone", having been through the preliminary wash cycle of the Lifestream long enough to have had various enchantments removed from him, while yet retaining his self before that too is washed out before reincarnation:

Alisaie: You're leaving!? Emet-Selch: Of course. The encore is finished, and I will not suffer myself to live again by Hydaelyn's magick. Emet-Selch: But more than that, the future you seek is not the past we loved. That is why we fought. And why I lost. Emet-Selch: But though you defeated me, my ideals are inviolate. Invincible. Emet-Selch: Spare me your pity. I have no use for it. If you would do something for me─save our star. Emet-Selch: See this tale to a triumphant conclusion, and with elation in your hearts, bid the final curtain fall. Emet-Selch: Only then may it rise again and a new tale begin─with new parts for all to play.

Through Shadowbringers, Emet-Selch claimed to want to cooperate with the Scions, while only giving bits and pieces of carefully considered information, and moving the goal posts whenever they did prove to him they were able to pass his tests and meet his expectations. It is not until this moment where, his duty to fight finished and the fate of his beloved world in any form at stake, that he is truly honest about what he did and why.

(I may also have an analysis WIP about comparing him and The Sandman's Morpheus and that stubborn refusal to change his mind and ideals, but it's slow going)

So while we mostly do have to go by what characters say, directly to WoL or to other characters in other scenes, each conversation cannot be taken in a vacuum; it is taken into account with their other conversations, with their actions, with other characters' input. And sometimes, the writers change direction, and new information will overwrite the old, even as it builds off of it.

The game is not consistent about Tempering and Summoning, though the double acts of Shadowbringers and Endwalker's story tries to clean that up. I just seriously doubt, from all the evidence, that the Unsundered were as entirely under Zodiark's thumb as say, one of Ifrit's over-hammered thralls and therefore not responsible for their choice and actions, the plans they made and came up with and clung to in stubborn guilt and grief and rage for so long they couldn't do anything else, even when presented proof of other options and chances to change or move forward.

Because another thing ShB and EW have shown us in both MSQ and in the Pandaemonium storyline, is who these men were, to become the Ascians we know, and how their own beliefs shaped them individually when faced with such loss--and how in each case, those past, pre-Zodiark selves would look at the eldritch beings they became by the Seventh era, and be horrified. Not because of any god's influence, but what they were capable of on their own.

...Well OK, Lahabrea already had a pretty good idea of what kind of monster he was capable of becoming. He also chose the worst way to handle it, and never seemed to learn from that. Elidibus and Emet-Selch though, while adamant in their beliefs, were also warped by what they chose to do and be, to where Elidibus even refused to remember his past to avoid the pain, tunneling into his duty with no wavering. Only Emet-Selch chose to remember, wallowing in it, acknowledging the monstrosity of his actions...and choosing to commit them anyway.

EDIT ADDITION: Relevant lore info directly from Banri Oda on Tempering and many other things.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Tempering #Ascians #Unsunderered #Emet-Selch #Lahabrea #Elidibus #Tiamat #Livingway #Banri Oda #lore #character analysis #A Realm Reborn #Shadowbringers #Endwalker

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