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sebastianswallows · 1 day

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The Little Death — 6. Those we oppose

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, noncon, dom/sub, dom!Feyd, bondage, spanking, the beginning of a little cockwarming

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu

We tend to become like the worst in those we oppose.

— Bene Gesserit Coda

Feyd didn’t wait for them to return to what had become their shared bedroom. With their meal half-done and cooling he got up and strode to her, his long legs reaching her in two steps and a half and grabbed her by the scruff. She yelped and reached for his wrist, but he was already pulling away at her veil. He threw it somewhere behind him.

“Not here,” she hissed.

“Why? Are you afraid?” he grinned. “Afraid of the servants hearing you?”

His white hand grabbed her by the throat and pulled her up while with the other he reached for the knife set beside her plate. He licked it clean and as he pulled her flush against his chest he set it at her throat.

“What they see doesn’t matter,” he whispered to her. “What they hear doesn’t matter… So, my dear Bene Gesserit, be as loud as you like.”

She wasn’t, of course. She was quite stoic while he pulled her to the head of the table. Her head moved back, leaning almost over his shoulder to avoid the knife. Feyd pretended to hold it quite carelessly but he knew very well where it was aimed and how close it was to her skin. He reached for his cup and drank the rest of the wine then threw it away and pushed his plates aside. Then both his hands moved just as quickly to shove forth against the table.

She cut off her own scream, exercising a control he almost could admire if his mind wasn’t on other things. He remembered in fragments his meeting with Lady Fenring. How his self-control was paused right after she spoke. How she took charge of his body with only her eyes. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he feared these witches, but —

“Measures have to be taken,” he rasped.

She clearly didn’t understand what he meant but she clenched her hands anyway, bracing for something. Feyd caressed her chest. Slowly his body came to loom above her and then she felt his knife right at her lips. He slotted it between her teeth, right on her tongue. Oddly enough, it made her calmer. At least she knew what he feared now… Losing control.

His other hand roamed across her body, pulling and tugging at the strange constraints of her clothes. The Harkonnen slaves were dressed quite plainly, he wasn’t familiar with this sort of thing at all… But he didn’t need to be.

“Let’s just see what’s inside you then,” he whispered as he started tugging up her skirts.

She stiffened, her legs tensing, shifting, breath fogging on the knife. She closed her eyes when he laid the layers of material across her waist. Feyd didn’t move at all and without being able to look at him it was impossible for her to try to read his thoughts, but she knew what he was seeing.

“Very modest,” he chuckled. “For a witch.”

He laid himself more heavily against her, pressing her into the table, making her breaths catch within her throat, and delighted in the sense of fear that grew inside her. He closed his eyes and nuzzled the back of her head, burying his nose in the rich crown of her hair, brushing his lips against it. It smelled warm from being so close to her body all day, and faintly sweet and salty, but more than anything it felt soft in a way quite different from skin. He could fall asleep with his face buried in it.

She’d relaxed beneath him, he could feel it. Even her legs were sapless and now her stomach pressed more tightly against the table as she let her feet rest upon the floor. Feyd held her waist tightly as if testing the frailty of her body, moving his hard caress from her soft stomach to the hard bone of her hip. She winced uncomfortably, but then he moved his hand away and before she could guess what he intended —

“Aaah!” she yelped through the blade, barely holding herself from moving forward and cutting herself on the edge.

He’d spanked her. Her thighs tightened protectively but she knew it wouldn’t help. Feyd chuckled as he felt her squirm beneath him and moved slightly to the side, not to get his weight off her but to make room for more.

“Sit still now,” he whispered in her ear. “I like those lips of yours.”

His hand came down on her again. She could feel her body shifting from the impact and her hips were already bruised. The sound burst like a thunderclap in the vast room followed by the whisper of her sighing. She closed her eyes and blinked the tears away. She hadn’t been punished like this since she was a little girl…

“These should get out of the way,” he muttered. “I don’t like them.”

He tugged on the undergarments that enclosed her from waist to feet and managed to do it while keeping the knife quite still between her teeth. When she started shivering he could hear the clatter of them. He chuckled.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he rasped against her ear. “What could I possibly do to you… that you haven’t done to me already?”

And as he spoke he slid his pale hand up her thigh and curled it inward. She groaned mutely, trying to hide her fears behind protestations, but Feyd merely smiled at her. She could feel the gentle swelling of his cheeks against her neck.

Then like a bolt of lightning, and just as unexpected, he struck her once again. She yelped, her body trying to curl inward, away from the blows, but the table was fixed into the floor and the blade pulled at the edges of her mouth and all she could do was breathe and try to calm herself. She thought back to her training, to the things the Sisters told themselves to drive their fears away, but Feyd’s hand was ever at her back in turn petting her skin and spanking it to blushing.

“That’s it,” he hissed between hard slaps, nuzzling the soft back of her throat. “Take it quietly… like you’re supposed to…”

He focused on one cheek and hit her again and again on the same spot until her eyes were leaking and her teeth clenched on the blade. She could no longer tell the difference between his fingers and his palm, the whole area incensed and tender, both sensitive and dull.

She nearly sobbed when he stopped and finally, with the echoes of the spanking faded, she could hear just how loudly he was breathing. There was a taste of iron in her mouth, but she knew it wasn’t blood. His chest within its leather armour moved against her back and he rested his palm on her. She winced and nearly jumped but his touch was gentle, for the moment.

“Oh…” he gasped then giggled. “You’ve made my hand all hot.”

It was, she could tell, just as warm as her skin right now. He’d hurt himself almost as much as her…

Feyd pulled the blade away from her mouth but she could hardly catch her breath before he brought the other palm to quiet her. His hand, hot from spanking her ass, was clasped tightly over her mouth and the other moved behind her. She knew what he wanted to do before he did it… He cut her clothes off from her back. However much she struggled, he pressed down against her. It was impossible to buck him off, she would only bruise herself more. He giggled when he felt her tears wet his fingers, but his hand stayed firm over her mouth.

When he tore enough of her dress away and threw its tatters to the side he finally paused and ran his free hand across her back. He caressed her in a straight straight line from the nape of her neck down her spine and to her heated buttocks.

“You’re shivering,” he rasped. “Are you cold, or is it me?”

She couldn’t speak, of course, but even if she could — what would she say to him?

“I take it you’re just cold, then. Not to worry. I’ll warm my girl up.”

His touch left her for a moment and she heard a shifting of leather behind her. Then he brought the other hand over to her mouth and with it something new. A belt.

“Hold still now,” he murmured as he gagged her, tying it behind her head. “That’s it, good witch…”

She bit at it and growled but all it got out of Feyd was giggles. With a softer belt, one of her own, he tied her wrists at her back. He enjoyed the result by caressing her body with both hands, from her fragile neck to her tense back, down toward her waist, and lower. She pressed her forehead to the table and tried to close her legs but he noticed none of it. His hands explored her like a long sought-after gift, savouring the feeling of her skin, the hint of fragile bones beneath, and the shivers he could feel that ran through her.

“You’re not enjoying it?” he asked. “Can’t have that… After all, I enjoyed you so much.”

She grumbled but he’d already distanced himself from her. Looking over her shoulder she couldn’t see him. She realised he’d kneeled behind her when she felt him bite her thigh.

“Mmmh!”

“That’s more like it,” he giggled, nuzzling her soft flesh.

He held her legs bruisingly tight as he brushed the cushion of his folds up and down, up and down, then kissed upwards until he reached her ass. She jumped when he bit into her cheek but Feyd only laughed, delighted.

“So sweet,” he muttered. “Sweeter than it has any right to be. Oh, if my darlings got their hands on you…”

She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she knew she didn’t want to find out.

His hands scraped upwards and he hooked his thumbs into her cheeks, easing them apart. She muttered from behind the gag but her voice was already weak, unconvincing even to her ears. She blushed fiercely when he paused and did nothing because she knew he was simply looking at her. His breath fanned across her heated skin, tickling her almost, and however tightly she pressed her legs together she knew it was no use.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he cooed, which sounded frightening in his rough voice. “Two tight little holes and a little button to play with. How sweet…”

She bit at the belt between her teeth and moved her head every which way, trying to get it out of her mouth so she could use the Voice, but he’d tied it behind her head in such a way that it wouldn’t budge.

His thumb moved from her cheek to press against one plush lip and to her embarrassment she felt herself begin to drip right down her slit. He watched it, traced the sleek slow path with his gaze, and before the watery droplet could reach her clit he picked it up and took it to his mouth.

“Like honey,” he muttered with his lips around his thumb.

Holding her still harshly open with one hand, he started spanking her again with the other. This time it was on the cheek he had earlier ignored. He worked hard to get them both an equal shade. She yelped at the impact and started a breathing exercise to calm down, but she could not put out of her mind what was happening to her. With each slap of his hand, she clenched and he saw it, and when more wetness was pressed out of her with each clenching of her intimate muscles, he saw that too. He spanked her again and again and again until his arm grew tired.

“That’s it, take it like that,” he growled behind her, his voice breathless and distracted. “Yeah, you’ll be good now, won’t you? Be a good girl for me…”

Then he stopped quite suddenly and held her cheeks apart. He leaned in and, so quickly she almost didn’t feel it, dragged his tongue from her clit up to her throbbing hole. She yelped and tried to kick her feet, but he had already moved away. It wasn’t even an attempt to clean her up — if anything, she was only wetter from his mouth now. He’d just wanted a taste.

While she caught her breath, she could hear him fumbling behind her, moving quickly — he was taking off his armour. She struggled, expecting him to be atop her any moment, but the looming presence of his body moved away and, instead, he grabbed her.

Feyd sat back on the chair and pulled her into his lap. With a warm hand still stinging from the hits he’d given her, he held her jaw up, and with the other, he arranged her just the way he liked.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s going to hurt, but you’ll cum anyway, won’t you?”

She shivered as he nuzzled the back of her head, enjoying the softness of her hair and the warmth and the human scent of her. He moved her over his lap and spread her legs with his, bringing her to a position where she could hardly stand or fight him back or try to get away, but she still tried, struggling in his grasp that was slippery with sweat.

Feyd grabbed her tightly by the waist and caught the back of the belt between his teeth, pulling her in every way down onto him. His cock was hard and pointing toward her, leaking down its length so much it pooled beneath his balls, soiling the chair. She could only bring herself a little higher before he brought her down again and nudged his tip between her lips. She yelped and nearly slid out of his grasp, but each attempt to get away only worked her lower, lower down his shaft.

Feyd groaned with pleasure when he nudged his head inside and quickly let go of her waist to grip her breasts with both hands. He squeezed them gently as he started thrusting, steadily bullying himself into her tight and throbbing hole, and in a sudden inspiration of cruelty, he pinched both of her nipples. She gasped and cried wordlessly but his teeth tightened on the belt and pulled her lower while his fingers remorselessly squeezed at her buds.

She slid down with some difficulty. Although she was leaking all over him, her hole was tense and clenching against the intrusion. Feyd didn’t stop. She fell atop him more out of exhaustion than anything else and winced in pain. The fingers around her nipples relaxed only enough for him to slap them, punishing them for every bit of pleasure that she felt. She felt tears stream down her cheeks while Feyd purred with pleasure, his teeth now nibbling at her neck.

“That’s it, good girl, stay there,” he muttered, sounding almost drunk. “I just want to stay in you a while…”

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath #feyd rautha smut

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lorelei-system · 2 days

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Nobody seems to talk about being a little in a system who has to pretend to be a grown-up a lot. I know this may not apply to all systems, but at least for us, our child alters are a lot more like permanently age regressed adults than actual children. We can mask as adults when necessary, but that can also make us feel bad.

Sometimes I wish I was a real kid without all these responsibilities. Something as small as being praised for something that most adults take for granted makes my day. I wish I could act, and be treated, like an actual child all the time, but part of us having to stay covert and function as an adult, with an adult life, is that I have to pretend to be an adult even though I’m not.

But when I see people on here say that littles shouldn’t be on the internet at all, it confuses me. Maybe there’s some sys kids out there who aren’t mature enough to protect themselves, and take care of themselves. But for us, our littles tend to be the toughest alters. We’re the ones that have been around the longest, that had to endure some of our worst trauma. Our innocence was already stolen, so treating us like innocent children doesn’t make much sense in my opinion.

But of course, every system is different. I just find it patronizing to see random people on the internet say that it’s not good to let littles on here. Sys kids are a lot more complex than you think. We’re different because of what we’ve been through, and how much we’ve already seen.

-Sophie (she/her, little)

#did osdd #did alter #did system #osddid #actually did #osdd system #system little #sophie speaks

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 21 hours

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WIBTA for asking a mutual to make a character an OC?

My mutual (age unknown) and I (18) really enjoy this character. To avoid naming the fandom, let’s call him Cookie. Cookie is both of our favorite characters that we’ve both been obsessed with in the fandom but he’s not that popular so we only really have each other to go crazy with. However over time how Mutual began to make Cookie was very different to literally everything he is in canon.

For starters, Cookie is an outgoing and arrogant character (which is why i like him a lot. those kinds of characters are my jam) but Mutual began to portray him as having secret insecurities and anxiety, which, alright. I can see that and it’s not like it hasn’t been done before. But later they portray him unable to even talk to close friends and has crippling self esteem issues that becomes a defining part of their fanon of him. Their version of him is very shy and passive which is very different from how he is in canon and contradicts many stories he does have a role in. I didn’t want to be that guy who polices them over this (and they have a past about this from a gatcha game fandom who apparently are very vicious over what’s “out of character”) so I usually try to be open minded and it didn’t affect how I enjoy him at least at first. After a while when I wanted to talk about Cookie they would go “well MY version is like this” and begin to talk about him how they made him. I’ve told them repeatedly that our versions are different and I want to talk about my version too but they always seem to forget in a few days and always talk about their fanon when I bring him up.

Now they headcanon Cookie (who is a brunette) as a blonde who just dyes his hair and now they always draw him with his “natural” hair color. I don’t know why but this just made me give up. I really want to ask if they would consider just making him an OC because nothing about their Cookie is the same as the real one and I’m beginning to get tired of only talking about their version instead of the one I loved in the game. I would be fine with this character if they were an OC because then at least he’s not a completely different person pretending to be one of my favorite characters.

However I’d feel like an asshole if I were to say that and I don’t want to lose contact with the few people who actually like Cookie and not hate him. But I really can’t take pretending their version of him is even remotely the same anymore and that I can’t even talk about him without them butting in about how their version would be.

#aita #am i the asshole

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 3 days

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The Silver Dragon (2)

Youth

Lady Arianwyn and Prince Aemond grow up side-by-side.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: This chapter is entirely new! The old chapter 2 will be back later as chapter 3. Also, I have not been around babies or toddlers or even kids under 10 since I was that age myself, so if I got any childhood development facts wrong, just pretend that I didn't!

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Only four days after Prince Aemond Targaryen saw his eleventh moon, he took his first steps. It was a matter of necessity. His nursemaid had set him on the nursery floor too far from Aria – all the way on the other side of the rug!

He did not really know who Aria was.

He did not know that her full name was ‘Arianwyn,’ for everyone only called her Aria – except for the large men in bronze suits, who called her ‘Lady,’ or sometimes “Little Lady.” He did not know that she was his cousin, as he did not know what a cousin was. He did not know that she had not always been with him or that she was younger than him, for he had no memories without her there.

All he knew was that Aria was always there, and he was always with her.

But in that moment, she was too far away. He took one look at Aria’s sad and confused face, and he knew he needed to get to her. If he didn’t do it soon, she would start to cry. He hated it when she cried. It made him want to cry.

So, he started crawling toward her. Slowly, he was moving too slowly. She looked more and more like she was going to cry, and Aemond decided there wouldn’t be anything worse in the world.

He pushed his arms against the floor, bracing himself as he raised up onto his legs, as the bigger people did. When he lifted his arms again, he saw Aria staring at him, no longer looking like she was about to cry. While he was glad, he still wanted to go to her.

“Hurry, get the queen!”

Aemond remembered that last word, ‘queen.’ He heard it a lot when his second-favorite person was around. Was she here, too?

He turned his head to look at the part of the wall where people came through but didn’t see anyone. The turn cost him, though. His legs grew wobbly, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to fall. He couldn’t prevent the fall, but maybe he could control it.

His arms flailing, Aemond leaned forward and took three steps closer to Aria before he fell on his face.

Three steps were enough, though. Aria had crawled forward to meet him in the middle of the rug, a wide smile on her face as she squealed with delight. Tears had already sprung to Aemond’s eyes from his fall, but when he looked at Aria, he forgot why he had wanted to cry.

“Aria!”

“Aymmmmmuh!”

Aemond knew words now – several of them. It infuriated Arianwyn. Especially when his favorite word was her name, and she could not say his back.

She knew his name. Whenever someone said “Aemond,” she knew they were talking about him. She just couldn’t get the word out. The first part, the “ay” sound, she usually got right, but it always fell apart from there.

The worst part was seeing his frustration when she failed, yet again, to say his name. She wanted Aemond to like her – needed him to like her.

He wasn’t like Aegon, who was too big and played in ways she couldn’t, or Helaena, who barely liked to play at all. They weren’t even there most of the time. They were big enough to leave the nursery and go to different places like “garden” or “great hall.”

But Aemond was perfect. He played exactly how she liked, and though he was bigger than her, he never played too roughly. When Aunt – who Aemond called “mama” – took Aegon and Helaena out of the nursery, he stayed with her. He always stayed with her. Even when they were in their cradles, she could still see him from across the room.

“Aymmnuh,” she tried again. And failed again.

Aemond frowned and shook his head. “No.”

Another favorite word of his – Aegon taught it to him. Arianwyn huffed, the sound echoed by the hatchling dragon sunning itself in the window.

Some weeks prior, she had woken in the hour of the wolf to find that the egg that had lain in her cradle had shattered. Shards of black speckled with storm gray and ice blue were strewn across her blanket, and the comforting heat she had grown accustomed to warming herself against was gone. As she began to cry, she noticed a shape looming over her, perched on the edge of her cradle.

The night nurses screamed, shouting at the guards outside the door. Both the man in red and black and the man in bronze looked at her and the dark shape at her feet with wide eyes before running down the corridor so fast their clanging armor sounded like a thunderstorm.

The noise woke Aemond, who looked from Arianwyn to the shape that had leaned down to peer at her. “Dwa- dwagon!”

Arianwyn watched as it jumped down from its perch. She could barely make out the shape in the darkness and against the deep brown of her fur blankets. It did look like the toys they played with that the others called “dragon.” Two membranous wings, a thin, flicking tail, a long neck covered with small spines, and eyes like living ice.

It moved cautiously as it approached her until she could see the faint lines of gray and white within its blue eyes—a dragon. Her dragon.

As she now frowned at Aemond, her dragon was sprawled on the stone of the windowsill, wings spread lazily as it echoed her frustration without even opening its eyes.

“Dragon!” Aemond exclaimed.

“Muhmuhnd!” She was so close, she knew it. She had all the pieces. She just needed to put them together. “Ay!”

Aemond stared at her, a hint of a smile on his face from knowing she was about to try again.

“Ay!” Her face was scrunched in determination as she shouted. The nurses paused their work and looked at her as well.

“Ay-muh!”

Aemond started clapping. One of the nurses whispered to another before slipping out the door.

“Ay-muhn!”

In the window, Arianwyn’s dragon sat up, small clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils as it began to climb down from the window.

“Ay-muhn-duh! Aemond!”

One of the nurses pressed a hand to her chest and said a word Arianwyn didn’t know. The others started rushing around. But Arianwyn didn’t care. She was looking at Aemond, who clapped and smiled wider than she had ever seen.

“Aemond!” She shouted again, delighting in his responding laugh.

He pointed at her. “Aria!”

“Aemond!”

“Aria!”

“Aemond!”

There was a new baby in the nursery—two, actually, but Daeron had already been there for four moons, so his novelty had worn off.

Aemond and Arianwyn sat together on one end of the room, watching as he was held by his mother, Rhaenyra, who was also Aemond’s sister. That made him Aemond’s nephew, the nurses had explained.

They had also explained what he was to Aria, but he didn’t quite understand it, as it was somehow much more complicated. Aegon said he understood, and Helaena had nodded, which meant she probably understood, too. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it never made much sense.

Aegon also explained that the new babe, whose name was “Jacaerys,” but everyone just called “Jace,” was something called a bastard. It meant that Jace’s father wasn’t his father; some other man was. But that didn’t make sense. Rhaenyra was married to Laenor, which meant Laenor was Jace’s father, for the Mother only gave babes to people who were married and very much in love.

When Aemond had asked more about it, Aegon rolled his eyes and said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It was something that was often said to Aemond and Arian, and they did not like it very much. They would have to wait a long time to be older, and they didn’t want to wait.

They also did not like that they were not allowed to play with Jace as they did with Daeron. Rhaenyra said they were “too big.” But when they asked Rhaenyra if she would play with them while Jace was sleeping, she also said no, even though she was definitely big enough. She only ever came to the nursery when Jace was awake and left the moment he fell asleep.

Aemond decided he did not like Rhaenyra.

She had never come to see him, or Aegon, or Helaena, or Aria before Jace was born. Now that she had finally come, she all but ignored them. When they tried to talk to her, she seemed annoyed. Worst of all, he had seen her giving Aria a mean look several times.

His mother did not get along with Rhaenyra very well, so he assumed it was fine not to like her.

However, his father loved Rhaenyra. He came to visit her and her babe often, which would annoy Aemond if it didn’t also mean he got to see his father more.

Since his father was the king, he was very busy and didn’t always have time to see his children in the nursery. But now that the nursery was very full with six children, he made the time, Aemond’s grandsire, who was also the Hand of the King, said.

The king spent most of his time with Jace, but that was probably because Jace was the newest. He still held Daeron, played with Arianwyn and her dragon, complimented Helaena’s insects, admired Aemond's drawings, ruffled Aegon’s hair, and read them all stories from Old Valyria – the fantastical empire where their ancestors were from.

Aemond loved those stories. So did Aria. They tried to memorize them so they could tell them to each other whenever the king wasn’t there. Sometimes, they even acted out some of the stories, with Helaena, Daeron, and several of Aria’s attendants–including her lady’s maid, Brynna, and any number of her twelve guards–as their audience.

Her attendants also told them stories about Aria’s other ancestors, the Bronze Kings. Before there were any Targaryens or Dragons in Westeros, the Bronze Kings ruled over Runestone. One day, Aria would, too.

They didn’t know what Aemond would do. He was a prince, but he wasn’t the heir. There weren’t many stories about second sons. Whenever they asked, they were again told, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” But they never worried for long. There were lots of other exciting things to think about, like when Aemond’s dragon egg would hatch.

Arianwyn looked around the large room with wide eyes. She had never been to this room before, even though she had now been to many different rooms in the Red Keep. At least Aemond was there, so she wasn’t alone. Still, she wished she had been allowed to bring her dragon – which she had named ‘Emrys’ after a recent visit from her cousin, Ser Gerold.

Brynna was also there, but she sat in a chair by the door sewing something, so she couldn’t hold Arianwyn’s hand. Aemond did so happily. She was pretty sure he was also nervous. His eyes were moving all around the room, too. But his face didn’t look afraid.

Aegon was also there, but Arianwyn didn’t find comfort in his presence. Ever since Aegon left the nursery, he became mean. He was never very nice, but Arianwyn never thought he had been mean. He liked to make jokes that were not very funny, but he laughed anyway.

Most of the jokes were about Aemond and how his egg hadn’t hatched. It didn’t make much sense to Arianwyn, as Aegon’s egg hadn’t hatched either. But he had just returned from a trip to Dragonstone – their family’s other castle – with a hatchling from a different egg. He named it Sunfyre, because it was gold and pink and shiny.

Helaena also went, and though she did not find a dragon from Dragonstone, when she went with their father and Aegon to show Sunfyre the Dragonpit, she met Dreamfyre, who was once ridden by Princess Rhaena, their grandfather’s sister. Helaena and Dreamfyre bonded almost instantly, and the king was very happy.

Aemond and Arianwyn hadn’t been allowed to go along to Dragonstone at all. Arianwyn, because she was too little and already had a dragon, and Aemond, just because he was too little. He had been sad since then, and nothing Arianwyn did seemed to cheer him up for very long.

She squeezed his hand a little, causing him to look at her, his face still empty. “Are you excited?"

At the other end of the table, Aegon scoffed. “There’s nothing to be excited about, trust me.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. The first time she did it, it annoyed Aegon, so now she did it whenever possible. “I’m excited. I want to learn everything!”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth quirked up as if he would smile. But it fell back when Aegon started talking again. “You want to learn ‘everything?’ Perhaps you should become a maester, then.”

His tone was mocking, but Arianwyn considered the possibility. The maesters had the biggest library at the Citadel in Oldtown. Perhaps she should be a master; then, she could read all the stories she wanted. But that would require her to be in Oldtown, which was very far away from Runestone.

“Can I be a maester and Lady of Runestone?” she asked.

It went completely silent. Then, Brynna sighed sadly in the corner, and Aegon started laughing.

Arianwyn’s stomach sank. Had she said something wrong? She looked around, hoping someone else would tell her why Aegon was laughing. But Brynna just looked tired, and her guard for the day, Ser Warren, looked like he was hurting, or maybe had smelled something bad. Either way, his face was all scrunched up.

“Shut up!” Aemond shouted, startling her enough that she clapped her hands over her ears. He glared at his brother, his face reddened and angry. “Don’t laugh at her!”

Aegon kept laughing. Aemond kept shouting. Ser Christor looked like he was about to panic. Brynna abandoned her sewing and ran to calm everyone down, but it didn’t work. Tears started to sting behind Arianwyn’s eyes, so she shut them tight, ducked her chin, and shook her head back and forth. That always made the nightmares go away. Maybe it would make this go away, too.

Suddenly, Aegon’s laughing and Aemond’s shouting stopped. She lifted her hands away from her ears and opened her eyes just enough to see Maester Orwyle entering the room.

“Prince Aegon, perhaps it would be wise to keep your lessons separate from Prince Aemond and Lady Arianwyn’s.” His voice was just as gentle as when he came to the nursery when one of them was sick, but Aegon still scowled at him. “Unless you would prefer to repeat the fundamentals of the curriculum?”

Aegon pushed his chair away from the table so fast it fell over and gave a smile that made Arianwyn nervous. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Ser Christor’s eyes went wide. Brynna gasped and put a hand on her chest. Aegon didn’t acknowledge them before stomping out of the room.

After the door slammed shut, Orwyle sighed. He smiled at Aemond and Arianwyn, but it seemed fake. “I am very excited you two are beginning your lessons; you have always been curious.”

He sat at the table across from them and opened a large, messy book. “Before we begin, do you have any questions about how lessons work?”

Aemond said nothing, pouting, as he often did around Aegon, with his arms crossed.

Arianwyn raised her hand above her head. “Grand Maester, what is a ‘fuck?’”

“Just grab it!”

“It’s too high!”

Arianwyn huffed, crossing her arms as she looked up at Aemond, standing atop a chair trying to reach a large leather-bound book. “Do you want me to try?”

“No!” Aemond’s face reddened. “I can do it. Besides, you’re shorter than me – how could you reach it if I can’t?”

She thought for a moment. If Emrys lived in the Keep, she could have him pry the book out, but he was in the Dragonpit now. Even after three moons, she still woke, expecting to find him tucked against her chest, fast asleep.

But he’d gotten too big to stay in the castle, and Arianwyn had to take him to the Dragonpit. The king and Aemond went with her and helped her with her High Valyrian while she explained to Emrys that he had to stay there now. It didn’t stop him from flying back to the castle for the first fortnight, but he eventually learned to stay in his den.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Maybe I’ll have an idea if I get on the chair.”

Aemond shook his head, his brow set. “No, you could fall.” Before she could get her next argument out, he continued, “I can do it. Watch.”

He braced one hand on the edge of the shelf while the other just skimmed the spine of the book they were trying to reach, then jumped. Arianwyn called his name, certain he would fall and hurt himself or even destroy the book.

But then, Aemond was again standing steady on the chair, the book in his hands and a happy grin.

“You did it!” The very moment he was off the chair, Arianwyn hugged him tightly. He could not hug her back with the heavy book in his hands, so he just dropped his head on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go read!”

She dragged him back to the table in the small alcove, where they had already set out pen and paper. Once Aemond had set the book down and opened it to the first page, she picked up the pen and got ready to write.

“Before the Andu-Andals came to Westeros, and long before Aegon Targaryen con… conchu… um…”

Arianwyn pointed to the word he struggled with. “Conquered. Remember how he’s called ‘Aegon the Conqueror?’”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I know. Con-kerd. I was just…making sure I was saying it right.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want to correct him either, so she gave him a smile and nodded for him to continue.

“…before Aegon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with his dragons, the lands were inhuh- inhah… inhabee...”

Arianwyn again pointed at the book. “‘In-hah-bih-ted.’ I’ve heard it before but can’t remember what it means. Do you?”

“I…” He slumped, looking pointedly away from her. “No, I don’t.”

They both looked at the book for a moment before Arianwyn handed the pen and paper to Aemond. “Write it down,” she instructed. “In our lessons with Orwyle tomorrow, we can ask him.”

Aemond looked from the book to the paper, then slid the book to her. It made more sense this way, Arianwyn thought. She was better at pronouncing big words, and he was better at writing things down so they would be ‘legible,’ a word Orwyle said but had never really explained.

“In-hah-bih-ted,” Aemond said as he wrote the word down. He whispered the pronunciation a few more times before looking back at Arianwyn. “I’m ready for more.”

She smiled broadly before looking at the page again. “The lands were inhabited by the First Men, who had built mighty kingdoms that…”

When he was younger, Aemond used to look at the Dragonpit from the seat at the nursery window. For hours, he would dream about one day walking through its mighty doors, mounting his own dragon, and finally claiming his birthright as a Targaryen prince.

Now, he had half a mind to tear down those doors himself.

The task would be far easier with the assistance of a dragon, however, which at the age of eight, Aemond still did not have.

Aegon and Helaena did. His bastard nephews did, somehow. Arianwyn did. But Aemond did not.

Still, he was forced to attend lessons with the Dragonkeepers, watching the others and only imagining doing the same with his own dragon. It wasn’t so bad when Aria was with him. Aegon made jokes, but stopped when she snapped back at him. After that, he would target their nephews. Aemond sometimes even laughed with him.

But then, during one lesson, Dreamfyre snapped at the younger dragons as they pranced around her. She did not cause any physical harm, but Vermax refused to leave his den for days, and Sunfyre would splay out on all fours the moment he saw the mighty she-dragon and stay that way until she left.

After that, the Dragonkeepers decided it prudent to separate Dreamfyre from the younger dragons. Not entirely, for she needed to learn to tolerate them before they could all fly together. She would continue to train with only one – Emrys.

It made sense. Emrys annoyed Dreamfyre the least. And when Aegon made Aria mad, the black dragon would often snap at Sunfyre.

So, Aemond was left to face the torment of being a Targaryen without a dragon alone.

Without Aria there to stop him, Aegon redoubled his teasing. Worse still, the bastards figured out that if they followed Aegon’s lead and made their own jokes at Aemond’s expense, he would not make jokes about them.

The Dragonpit, once a source of hope and inspiration, was now Aemond’s hell.

It started with small, simple japes or whispered comments about his lack of a dragon. But over time, it worsened.

The remarks became crueler and, sometimes, included a crudeness that rankled Aemond. “It’s still good practice for you,” Aegon said. “Even without a dragon, you’ll still need to know how to ride whatever beast mother sends you off to marry.”

The jokes evolved past mere verbal mockery. Once, Aegon and his bastard lackeys had an old saddle that one of their ancestors had used brought in. For Aemond to practice his riding stance, they said. But when he took the seat, he found himself sitting atop a pile of dragon dung they had placed in the saddle and concealed with a sheet of burlap.

He never should have trusted them. He knew it.

But he wanted to.

He wanted to practice his riding stance, to finally sit in a dragon’s saddle, even if it was on the ground rather than an actual dragon. He wanted to feel reins in his hand and imagine the wind flowing past him. And a part of him even wanted to be friends with his brother and nephews.

That small, weak part of him was soon thoroughly snuffed out.

Just after his ninth nameday, Aemond was approached by Aegon and their nephews. He’d long since vowed not to trust them, but his brother’s words shot through his defenses like Valyrian steel through armor.

“Let’s go get you a dragon, brother.”

“What?” Aemond’s heart stopped in his chest. Had one of the she-dragons laid a new clutch of eggs, or had one of the eggs in the warming chamber hatched? Perhaps a new wild dragon had been spotted?

“Look, you’ve just celebrated your nameday,” there was something genuine in Aegon’s voice, unbelievable as it was. He set a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, but it didn’t reassure him as much as it unsettled him. “You’re nearly a man. And you’ve been training with the Dragonkeepers for so long that you’re more than ready to try and claim a dragon. Unless you’re still waiting on that egg?”

That egg, once a deep blue swirling with purple, green, and silver wisps, had turned to stone years ago. It still waited by the hearth in his chambers, just in case of a miracle. He shook his head.

Aegon smiled and turned toward the dragon dens. “Come on then, let’s go.”

“Do the Dragonkeepers know?”

Lucerys ran up behind them, a half-toothless smile splitting his face. “No! We –”

“We didn’t want to tell them because… well,” Jacaerys stuttered momentarily, and Aemond’s faith wavered.

“They wouldn’t allow it if they knew.” Aegon didn’t look back as he led them down the sloping entrance to the dragon dens. “I can’t understand why. Surely, they know you’re more than ready.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Just imagine the look on their faces when they see you come into the arena on the back of a full-grown dragon!”

And Aria, Aemond thought. She would be thrilled for him. He could picture it perfectly, the gleam of utter glee in her eyes as she smiled as wide as she could. And she would be able to ride Emrys soon, she’d told him. If he claimed an adult dragon, they could fly together.

The fantasy ended the moment the last of the daylight disappeared. That rush of anticipation faded, leaving him with only reluctance and fear.

Not that he had time to act on it before Aegon seized his arm and pointed into the massive passages lit only by distant torches. “Terrax makes his den down there.”

Aemond nearly choked as he named the formidable dragon that had hatched during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign and remained unclaimed since. “You want me to claim Terrax?”

“Yes!” Aegon spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you think you deserve one of the largest and most powerful dragons in the world?”

“I… I suppose so.”

Aegon patted Aemond’s shoulder, then pushed him forward a few steps, sand flying up around him. “Then get on!”

He made no move to follow. Neither did their bastard nephews.

“Are you not coming with me?” The thought of approaching Terrax was daunting enough. To do it alone was nearly unthinkable.

Lucerys opened his mouth, but Jacaerys thumped him before he could say anything. Aegon just held Aemond’s gaze. “We are but must follow behind, so we don’t spook Terrax. Too many unfamiliar scents will put him on edge.”

It made sense, according to everything he’d learned about dragons. Unbonded dragons were especially sensitive to unfamiliar people, it was why novice Dragonkeepers were always accompanied by an elder.

Still, this wasn’t something Aemond wanted to do alone. “But you will be behind me?”

“We will,” Aegon assured, a hint of annoyance entering his voice.

“You swear it?”

“I swear.”

Aemond searched his brother’s face for any hint of deception but found none. Either he had become a more proficient liar, or he was telling the truth. This was his brother, his future king. If he couldn’t trust Aegon, who could he trust?

He could trust Aria. Always. If only she were here, he would be far more confident. And braver – he wouldn’t let her see him afraid. If she were here, he’d march right into Terrax’s den and lay his claim. He remembered the image he’d pictured of her proud face when he told her he’d claimed a dragon and decided he would do anything to make it real.

One step forward. Two. Three.

It was not long before it was so dark that when he looked behind him, he could not see Aegon, Jacaerys, or Lucerys. But knowing they were there was still a comfort, even if he had to walk the shadowed distances between torches.

The dragon dens, at last, came into view. The first few – one on the left, two on the right – were empty. The next one on the left had a massive nest of straw, wood, and sand occupying nearly every crevice of the room.

A low growl echoed through the corridor. Perhaps it was simply a dragon snoring. Maybe one had already scented him. The only way to know for certain was to continue.

As he approached the next den on the right, the growl came again, louder this time. Aemond said a swift prayer before moving closer, as quietly as he could.

He pressed his back to the wall and crept forward, waiting for the den itself to come into view. Waiting to see what lay inside. He reached the threshold and slowly peeked into the den.

A large green eye met his.

Terrax whipped his massive head toward Aemond, letting out a piercing roar.

“Ly.. lykirī! Dohaerās!” Be calm. Serve.

Terrax did not. A glow began in his throat, and heat threatened to overwhelm Aemond.

He was going to burn him.

Aemond ran, stumbling in the sand. He had to get away, get out, escape.

“Aegon!” It was both plea and warning.

No answer came.

“Aegon!”

The heat was growing, growing, growing. A whooshing noise chased him.

“Aegon! Jacaerys! Lucerys! Help!”

The tunnel was bright as day now. Sweat rapidly formed and fell from his brow.

The fire was upon him.

He had one last prayer.

“Aria!”

Aria was waiting in the library when Aemond finally escaped the thorough scoldings he’d received from both Elder Dantis, the leader of the Dragonkeepers, and his mother. “Aemond! Come look what Ser Gerold sent from Runestone!”

He should have been thrilled, should have felt excitement rushing in his veins at the prospect of new books directly from Aria’s home. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even heartened by the fact that she’d waited for him for so long. He felt… nothing.

“Aemond?” As he came closer, she seemed to finally notice his disheveled appearance. The ends of his hair had been burnt away, and soot and sand clung to his clothes. “What happened?”

“I…” He took his seat, keeping his gaze on the blank parchment before him. This was what they always did: sit together while Aria read, and he wrote down new words or questions they had. It was his favorite part of the day.

Why did the prospect now make him want to cry?

He shook his head.

Aria exchanged a glance with her guard – Ser Christor always seemed to be on duty while they were in the library. She moved her chair closer to his. “Lēkia?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her voice always soothed him and made him feel happy and safe. But right now, it seemed to echo Terrax's horrible roaring.

A small, gentle hand came to rest on his. The touch… felt good—soft, safe, and cool.

But then she spoke again. “Please, are you alright?”

Aemond managed a slight nod. Terrax’s fire went above him, so he managed to escape without any burns, but his clothes and pride were ravaged. As was his faith in his brothers and nephews.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Damn it all, she was about to cry. He could not stand to hear anyone speaking right now, not even her. Yet he could not stand making her cry, either.

He picked up the quill she’d laid out for him, dipping it carelessly into the inkwell. He wrote, “I am well, but I really badly don’t feel like talking.”

“Oh…” Aria frowned but nodded. Aemond knew not talking would be hard for her; she always had so much to say. But she was willing to be silent for him. He could have kissed her for it.

She moved the book between them and began to open it before shutting it again, reaching over it, and grabbing Aemond’s parchment. There was little ink left in the quill, but she just managed to squeeze out, “Tap my hand when you want to turn the page.”

It felt like everyone in the whole world was looking at Arianwyn. It was certainly everyone in her world.

The king and queen. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. Ser Criston Cole. All her guards from Runestone. The Grand Maester and Orwyle. The other lords of the Small Council. Countless other lords and ladies that Arianwyn had met but did not remember well.

Ser Gerold had arrived only the day before with several lords and ladies from Runestone and their bannermen.

Even Rhaenyra was there, though she didn’t look very happy about it. Ser Laenor was next to her, Jace and Luke in front of them, their dark eyes wide as they looked at Arianwyn and Emrys. She tried not to look at their eyes for too long – it felt rude, considering those eyes were quite the source of gossip.

“Emrys umbā, āeksio.” Elder Dantis motioned toward her now-saddled dragon. “Īlos pradagon?” Emrys is ready, lady. Shall we begin?

“Issa,” Arianwyn replied. She wasn’t quite sure whether she was really ready or not, but she couldn’t disappoint all those who had come to watch her first flight. So, she approached Emrys, stroking the smooth black scales of his snout.

He had grown impressively, now nearly twice as large as the King’s wheelhouse. According to the Dragonkeepers, it was unusual for a dragon to grow this fast away from Dragonstone or Valyria. There was much speculation about why, but Arianwyn didn’t care. She would love him no matter his size, though it did help that he was already large enough to ride.

He grumbled slightly, his icy eyes glancing at the crowd and the scales and spikes along his spine flaring. In many respects, she thought, he was quite like a spoiled cat.

“Hae urnēbosy pōnte daor gaomās,” Arianwyn whispered. Try to act like they aren’t watching us.

His grumbling turned to whining.

“Sepār zūgan,” she admitted, “yn kesir kosti. Īlon kosti gīmin. Ao kostā gīmin.” I’m nervous too, but we can do it. I know we can. I know you can.”

Emrys huffed a warm breath onto Arianwyn, a gesture of affection and conceding, before nudging her toward his side and the ropes that led to the saddle.

He did not like the saddle. That much was evident from the claw marks nearly covering the worn leather and how he would roll over on his back whenever the Dragonkeepers tried to put it on. It always took Arianwyn herself to talk him into letting them. But he was getting better about it. Slightly.

The saddle was not hers. It had been passed down in the family for generations, meant for young dragons who were still growing rapidly. Still, as Arianwyn settled into the ancient, worn leather, she could not help but think it fit her perfectly.

She dared one more glance at the crowd. The king was beaming. The queen looked as though she were about to faint. Ser Gerold and her Runestone guards looked to be somewhere between the two. Rhaenyra wasn’t even looking, though her husband and sons were.

Arianwyn looked last at her cousins. Helaena wore the same dreamy expression she always did, though her lips seemed to be moving slightly. Aegon was harder to read. She had expected him to look at her disdainfully or mockingly, but he didn’t. He looked happy, though it didn’t make much sense.

And Aemond. Her heart ached to look at him. She knew he was happy for her – more than happy, even. But being here today must also cause him such pain, driving home the fact that he still had not claimed a dragon. Guilt stung in her chest. She should have told him she wouldn’t mind if he stayed behind at the Keep.

But then, he smiled. There was still longing in his eyes for his own mount, but he smiled so brightly that Arianwyn soon smiled back, suddenly anxious to show him what she could do. She straightened her posture and grasped the reins.

“Emrys! Sōvēs!”

By the time Emrys again landed in the courtyard of the Dragonpit, he had entirely shed his dislike of his saddle. As he flew over King’s Landing, he had trilled and hooted his delight for all to hear. Arianwyn had as well, shouting and hollering with every move – rising on an air current, diving so low Emrys’ wings skimmed the surface of Blackwater Bay, and pitching around the towers and spires of the Red Keep.

Neither had ever felt so alive. But it was time to return to the ground.

Arianwyn was swarmed the moment she dismounted.

The king reached her first, clapped her on the back, and told her how proud her father would be if he were there. It was meant to be a comfort, but she flinched at the words. If he were there. But he was never there. She was nearly ten years old, but she had never met Prince Daemon, or even received a message from him.

Fortunately, the queen noticed her discomfort and subtly pushed past her husband to embrace her. “You were brilliant, Aria,” Alicent said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Not bad at all.” Aegon, to her surprise, had also approached. He smiled at her. “Might even call it good.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “How generous of you.”

He smirked. “I’m known to be sincere on rare occasions.”

She didn’t have a chance to snap back at him before she was lifted into the air and spun around. Ser Gerold held her close to his chest, and she swore she heard tears in his voice. “A dragon riding Royce! Who could have ever guessed? Oh, if only your mother could see this.”

“Would she be happy?” Arianwyn was suddenly gripped with fear that her mother would disapprove of her riding Emrys. Perhaps it was too far from Royce tradition for the late Lady of Runestone to tolerate.

Gerold lifted her so she could look directly into his dark gray eyes. “If your mother saw you now…” He really was crying now, but he smiled. “She would be so happy, Aria. She would be so thrilled that she might even ask to ride Emrys herself.”

Never able to resist his smile, Arianwyn smiled back. “Emrys isn’t quite large enough for two right now. But I would take her the moment he was.”

He finally set her down, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “I’m so proud of you, Aria. But I think there’s someone who also wants to say so.” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around.

Aemond was standing precisely where he was when Emrys had taken flight. He held his hands behind his back and looked away when Arianwyn met his gaze.

She had to push through more admirers – her guards, the Small Council, and other adults she couldn’t recall the names of. But they didn’t matter right now.

Yet when she stopped in front of Aemond, she didn’t know what to say. Talking about her flight might make him feel bad, but she so badly wanted to share her joy with him. Impulsively, she threw her arms over his shoulders and hugged him.

After a moment, he hugged her back.

“You’re amazing, Aria,” he whispered.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulders. “You are, too.”

Aemond laughed almost disdainfully. Arianwyn held him tighter. “It’s true! One day, you will have a dragon, and I know you will be the fiercest rider our family has ever seen. Then, we can fly together, you and me.”

He let out a shaking breath but held her tighter, too. She could hear the faint smile in his voice. “You and me, Aria. Forever.”

“Forever.”

Taglist: @heartb8k2 @queenofshinigamis @leptitlu @xxxkat3xxx @malfoycassimalfoy @lokiofasgard12

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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whoblewboobear · 2 days

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They’re not children, they’re Teenagers that live in a world and go to a school where violence and death are highly normalized.

However, underaged doesn’t excuse you from killing your fellow party member to sabotage other students. Being a “kid” doesn’t excuse you from pulling up to your teacher’s grave with a bulldozer to A. Force her hand to find you or B. Cease to exist if she doesn’t reward you for trying to disturb your final resting place. (IMO this is the most chilling and cruel thing KipCop has done that we know of. I paused the episode to breathe and calm down from this bc holy shit?) Kipperlily is old enough to understand right and wrong. She saw the rogue teacher loop hole as a badge of honor to be proud of. She is a teenager, she is not a baby or an infant or a child. She knew exactly what she was doing.

If we’re applying real logic to these fictional teenagers, real teenagers that commit horrific acts of violence or crimes get tried as adults because they were (usually) old enough and coherent enough to understand what they were doing. They were not babies that didn’t realize what they were doing.

If you are a minor and you do something violent and awful to another person or group of people, you don’t just automatically get to go “oh boy- b-but I’m just a child!” You have to face the consequences of your actions, it’s a massive part of growing up. That’s not something that just doesn’t kick in until you’re 18.

The bad kids are pretty much the same age as the rat grinders. They probably went to the same middle and elementary schools, were taught the same things when they /were/ children. In game, they were thrown in jail for their crimes in season 1. Aelwyn was taken to high elven prison. If Penelope or Dane weren’t killed, they sure as fuck would’ve been tried or worse too.

Like- I cannot tell, nor do I care enough to start checking accounts to see if adults or teenagers are making the “they’re just kids!!!!!!!!” Posts but I feel like I know where it skews. Either way, doesn’t matter. Do better. There’s a reason why children and teenagers are not lumped under the same age and developmental umbrella. There are differences.

Pretending that they’re innocent little babies so you can continue to love your villains guilt free or dumbing them down so it’s easier to defend them is a skill issue. Love your villains and all their nasty evil behavior with your whole chest.

#we have been told MULTIPLE TIMES that Kipperlily made a calculated move or intentionally chose her wording a specific way #children don’t do that shit they will say whatever comes to mind #they’re not babies #they’re not children #they are minors yes #but they also know wtf they did/are doing #someone said the thing about not infantilizing sch**l sh***ers and yeah #like to me this is the same as babygirl-ifying serial k*llers #that rogue teacher stuff firmly put 4dogs in the rotten category like that’s so fcked #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fhjy

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mattodore · 1 year

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i hit 3k pins on the oc boards last night without even noticing 🥺

#river dipping #what’s funny is i just deleted like forty pins from theo’s board that didn’t represent him anymore and i STILL have 3k 😭#theo’s board is years old and i cleaned it out a few times before but i finally was like okay no.#some of these pins just don’t make sense for him at all you need to delete them even if you’re attached to them atp.#i need to do the same with some of matthias and dionte's early pins too but i've been putting it off #anyway <333333333333333!!!!!!!!!! i'm going to read for an hour or two and then it's back in cas to start on theo's mom #i finished his dad last night i just didn't post abt it #theo's parents are gonna look much younger than matthias's but they're probably close in age. theo's are maaaybe a little younger...#ALSO...... i realized when i was making theo's dad that like. theo and matthias aren't close in age like matthias and imani.#like there's a 2-4 year age gap there... so like. for the edit i'm just gonna make them both fifteen anyway and say Oh Well!#like just pretend there's no age difference #me being like 'i don't wanna give exact ages at the current spot in the story' is fine until i wanna do something like this kdfjgnk #theo's in his early twenties and matthias is in his mid-twenties #theo's like..... somewhere between 22-24 and matthias is somewhere from 25-26... no more than 27 that's for sure #theo's still in university is the thing... like i've always been like theo's 24-ish but realized like hang on... he should be younger #he's very studious and his course load is STACKED so if anything he should be out of university by 22... which is where i've hit a snag #i was thinking oh maybe he could've taken a gap year but like. his parents wouldn't have allowed that at all.#and then i was like okay... maybe he went to rehab for a year so he's behind...?#but again........ his parents wouldn't have allowed him to disgrace the family name publically like that by admitting he has problems #so like... i'm just sort of covering my mouth and mumbling whenever i talk about ages lmao #i just don't want theo to be really young and i don't wanna budge on matthias's age either #idk idk i'll think of something. maybe it can relate to the breakdown he's meant to have...#...anyway. out of the oc soup and into this book <3

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quietwingsinthesky · 14 days

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sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.

#and also ill hit you on the head with a brick #posts that. im not going to say theyre about destiel. im not going to say that.#and im not gojng to say it because. i dont need to. you already know <3 #and to be clear: its not the interpretation thats a problem here. thats the fun of shipping. its then taking what youve interpreted and then #trying to backread that onto the media itself as intentional. as intended.#dismissing the actual themes and story for evidence of a ship is the problem. u get me?#shipping brainrot is not ‘oh i think these characters would kiss for this reason’.#its ‘this show is and has always been about these characters kissing no matter how much i have to ignore about the show to make that true or #pretend is completely different than its actually presented or straight up make things up to make my ship be a part of the intended reading’#thats the brainrot. the brainrot is when u step off the train of reality.#this is not true about the best piece of art ever made Captain America and the Winter Soldier. btw. that movie IS about bucky and steve #kissing alsjfdjskdjg #(<- okay im being silly here but id like to make a real point here too. the thing about TWS is that. it is genuinely enhanced by a romantic #reading. its not *better* than a platonic one. its just different. being able to see it through that lens does make a lot of the original #movie’s ideas even more complex. case in point like: steve struggling with his dating life. because what shared life experience does he have #with other people who look his age. and the movie is. about. someone who has his shared life experiences. and his mission to get bucky back.#you can see how that lens would be beneficial to the original movie rather than fighting it to prove the ship works in opposition to the #author’s original intent.)

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edgarallanpoestan · 10 months

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sometimes i think abt how charlie started adopting some of the eggs body language after playing gegg for a while. like very exaggerated movements and jumping more to get his point across and his in game character just generally being more expressive. idk where im going with this but i DO this its cute

#bee buzzes #qsmp #honestly it makes me think of like #how animated kids are #in my mind the eggs are just like #kids #so they use BIG gestures and are very exaggerated #and so charlie gegging it up made him do that more #intentionally or not #like when im around kids a lot #i find myself using bigger movements and different phrasing even when im around people my age #so my hc is that thats basically what happened w charlie #except a bit more bc he was pretending to be an egg #so. that parts still weird if i think abt it too hard but

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socialbunny · 10 months

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#ts4 #darleen dreamer #skip broke #(shoves them in ur face) LOOK. loooooooooooooook #i just wanted 2 post this b4 i went back 2 sleep. like it was a necessity #originally i wanted to do a younger skip and darleen makeover right but when i de-aged them there wasnt much of a difference but i didnt #want to bet on it considering how sims 4 genetics are so weird for no reason. + my sliders #also convulted it thinking too hard abt there ages. technically theyr nowhere near the same age as eachother but im pretending im capturing #this in like. their early 20s or wtv not tryna get to specific with it. even tho i was 😭#BUT THEY LOOK LIKE THIS ANYWAYS even in whatever time capsule i have them trapped in where they r alive in my head <33333 #also hiiiiiiiiii if u read all this 💵 go buy urself something nice

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queenofthursday6599-blog · 1 year

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You know as much as I hate Flynn Fenton it would have been interesting if the backstory Hartman proposed in that lame video was true, and he did exist in the canon timeline. Just because of how the math works out and how it would have affected the show’s story.

Because if he did exist in canon, we the viewers and Danny would have encountered, met, and learned about what happened to Flynn without anyone ever mentioning him, or Danny even encountering him in the Ghost Zone as Exodus*.

*Which is another dumb thing I hate and I’m getting rid of. No Exodus only Flynn.

The thing is that Flynn is 8 years older than Danny. Danny got his powers at age 14, which is the same year as his parents and Vlad’s 20 year collage reunion. Flynn would have been 22 at the time Danny got his powers.

Meaning he would have been alive, well, and 2 years old at the point of the proto-portal accident that turned Vlad half-ghost.

Implying one thing:

Flynn is biologically just Maddie’s kid, from a previous relationship back in her hometown, where Flynn is staying with her family while she goes to collage. [Flynn’s green eyes, the fact that he’s nowhere to be seen at the collage.] She meets both Vlad and Jack at the same time and become friends, and she and Jack eventually start dating and get married after collage, and Jack adopts Flynn as a Fenton.

Vlad and Jack were roommates, and Jack is the kind of man to never shut up about his kids in canon unless he’s ranting about ghosts. So if Flynn was Jack’s kid by blood, Vlad would have known about him, and Jack’s relationship with Maddie with in an hour of knowing him.

I also don’t think Jack and Vlad would have been roommates if Jack was already with Maddie in some kind of capacity before collage. So Jack can’t be Flynn’s biological father.

So if Flynn existed in canon, we and Danny would be introduced to Flynn, even if indirectly, in the episode Masters of All Time. Where Danny goes back in time to change the proto-portal accident, and stop Vlad from becoming a Halfa, leading to Jack becoming a Halfa instead, and Vlad and Maddie end up married.

Remember Flynn would already exist and be 2 years old by the time of the proto-portal accident, irregardless of the accident itself and who ends up half dead in the aftermath of it. So in a timeline where Jack ends up as Jack Plasmius and Maddie ends up as Maddie Masters, Flynn is still in the picture irregardless.

Danny would have at the very least encountered pictures of a redheaded green eyed boy, teen, and eventual adult scattered through out Vlad’s castle. He would have heard about Flynn going off to collage, about Vlad adopting Flynn as Flynn Masters after he and Maddie married.

About Flynn being born from before his mom met Jack or Vlad, meaning he would be his (Danny) and Jazz’s older half brother. Who Danny had no idea even existed for some reason.

Heck, Flynn could have very well been home visiting, or live at home with Maddie and Vlad. Or Vlad or Maddie could have called him back home after a strange young boy showed up on their doorstep calling Maddie mom.

Danny could have physically met Flynn, could have even found himself enjoying his company. Finding things in common with this strange older boy, who was supposed to be in his life, but isn’t for some reason. Things that Flynn did that reminded Danny of himself, reminded him of Jazz.

Maybe it’s Flynn who believes Danny when he says he comes from a parallel timeline, and he accepts this nervous kid as his baby brother. Maybe it’s not Maddie or Jack who tell Danny he has to fix the timeline back to how it used to be, it’s Flynn.

Because how could Maddie ask this boy she barely knows, even if he is her son from another timeline, to change the timeline. From one where she knows that her first born son, the only child she’d gotten to have in this life, is safe and healthy, and if not happy is at least alive. And change it to one where no one knows what happened to him, and she’s gone so far as to hide his very existence from her youngest son.

Even if she’s somehow, in spite of the loss of her oldest son deliriously happy and in love with her husband, doing what she loves. Even if she has a daughter she wants to meet, and a younger son she wants to get to know.

How could she trade the life of the child she’d loved and raised for 22 years, for a boy she barely knows, and the concept of a daughter? No matter how angry she is at Vlad for lying to her and manipulating her into staying with him for years, or how much of a missed opportunity everything with Jack feels like, she can’t bring herself to ask this strange boy who is also somehow her son to change anything at all.

Flynn who’s 22 years old and lived a life full of secrets and subterfuge looks this 14 year old kid in the face, who’s so obviously used to hiding things from everyone around him. And he says, “You do what you have to do to get things back to how they’re meant to be. Don’t worry about me Kid I’ll be fine, no matter what happens. You worry about yourself, and Jazz, and your friends. In that order, alright. Trust that I can handle myself, and we’ll find each other, alright.”

[”You shouldn’t tell Daddy about Mommy’s hobby Sweetie, he won’t like it. And well I’m not hurting anyone now am I?” as his mother toiled away for hours in a secret room he’d been asked to lie to his father about existing.

“Well Champ sometimes we have to keep things from the ones we love to protect them,” as his new (at the time) father burned the letters from an old collage friend named Fenton asking if he could meet up with his parents and talk.]

And when Danny, frantic, asks, “But what if we don’t? What if I never find you!?”

The red haired man smiles, shrugs and bitterly says, “Then that’s just how it’s meant to be. If you had to change the entire timeline for me to be here, then chances are I’m not where I’m supposed to be anymore than you are right now.”

So Danny does go back to the proto-portal incident, and makes sure Vlad Masters is the one hit by the portal. He learns the cause of ecto-acne and goes back to his original timeline. With the ecto-acne situation resolved Danny has something else he has to focus on.

What happened to Flynn, and how exactly was he going to find him and bring him home?

[I also like to imagine that Danny has a picture with the Flynn Masters version of Flynn. Something he shows Jazz when he inevitably confronts her about the whole “Older brother no one in the family thought I should know about” confrontation that would obviously happen at some point.

Danny can’t exactly confront their parents about Flynn, they have information on him locked down tighter than anything else in their life, and Danny didn’t even have a hint of Flynn’s existence before crossing into another timeline.

So trying to learn more about Flynn and possibly how he disappeared falls to Jazz in this case.]

#Danny Phantom #flynn fenton #dp au Flynn Masters #flynn is a mess of a character but inserting him into canon can be so interesting if you do it right #Misery vex doesn't exist in this au #Flynn still ends up growing up in the GZ from age 10 beyond though #he do be liminal and spoopy and awkward #absolute racoon of a man Flynn Fenton is by the time Danny meets him #lots of differences and a surprising amount of similarities to the Flynn Masters Danny bonded with though #Also if you couldn't tell by the post Flynn Masters is also really discontent with his life just like his parents #even if none of the Masters family will actually admit their unhappyness #so if he seems weirdly alright with possibly being dead he's just really depressed and emotionally repressed from his weird homelife #I mean he was raised by Vlad (who is Vlad) and Maddie (who seemingly decided to pretend to be a stepford wife)#so Flynn Masters has capital I issues #Flynn Fenton also has capital I issues of a completely different variety #That version of Flynn is far more feral and awkward than he is depressed or repressed though #Flynn what's a human social cue Fenton vs. Flynn conceal don't feel Masters #which version was/is more screwed up in the end? who's to say #danny phantom masters of all time

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