#there may be more comparisons Idk but this is what I came up with

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

OKAY SO I have been having THOUGHTS about how similar the Mines of Mandalore and the Mines of Moria scenes are. And I mean beyond how satisfyingly alliterative they are. Spoilers, obviously.

So, I was watching eps. 1-2 and first I was just really amused by the surface similarities of the two mines. The whole, “This is no mine, it’s a tomb”, “behold the great dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf”, the fact that the door Din goes through trying to find the living waters looks EXACTLY like the doorways at the fork in Moria where Gandalf tells everyone “when in doubt, always follow your nose” (my brief thought before Din wandered in there was that he should have sniffed the air first and considering the DANGER he found I think that was legit).

And then I start actually thinking about this and losing my goshdarned mind over it.

You have Din who’s never been there before and Bo Katan who has and ends up guiding him through these ruins of ancient halls destroyed and desecrated not so long ago even though the wreckage looks ancient. How both in LOTR and the Mandalorian there are these ruins that show you the world used to be so much bigger and more beautiful, but so much has been lost. The contrast of Bo Katan being certain of what they won’t find and Gandalf being certain of what they will find. The goblins and the glowing-eyed cavemen. The creature that lives in the dark and will kill you if it catches you (Gollum and General Grievous’ weird cousin). Grogu and Frodo have shirts made of the strongest metal known to anyone given to them by their adopted father figures. The fact that these were mines for mithril and beskar, the strongest metals in their universes.

And then. AND THEN. The piece de resistance. The beautiful contrast between the Balrog and the Mythosaur. They’re both ancient beings that have been hidden away in the dark for thousands of years, fallen from the splendor they once had. And one is dark and evil and bathed in FIRE and the other is (presumably) good and noble and hidden in WATER. Like ?!?! were they trying to make this comparison?!? because it’s fantastic and I love it and I need more of it.

AND the whole reason Din and Bo Katan are in the Mines in the first place is so Din can have his honor renewed by bathing in the waters (and Bo Katan comes along for the ride xD) and he FALLS into the depths but he IS renewed. In Moria Gandalf FALLS when he fights the balrog but when he defeats it he is renewed.

Oh and let’s not forget the FALLEN ROYALTY from an ancient line with a MAGIC SWORD. Like, Bo Katan might not permanently get the darksaber back till later in the season but she does reclaim and wield it again in the Mines. And in the book (movies were weird about this) Aragorn already has Anduril after they leave Rivendell so he has it in Moria.

So yeah, anyway, there are just SO MANY parallels here between the Mines of Mandalore and the Mines of Moria and I am LOVING it this was so fun to think about the past few days.

#the mandalorian #lord of the rings #the mines of mandalore #the mines of moria #din djarin #bo katan #the balrog and the mythosaur comparison makes me lose it every time I think about it #there may be more comparisons Idk but this is what I came up with #someone who works on the mandalorian watched LOTR while writing this episode and either consciously or subconsciously #put in a TON of lotr references #and I LOVE it #mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian season 3

[specialagentartemis]

Would you be open to elaborating more on your statement “#Admittedly I fundamentally don’t believe that many forms of ADHD and many of the tumblr-acceptable forms of autism are materially distinct”? I haven’t heard someone else voice this sentiment, but I think I have similar feelings to you around this topic and I am curious how others have come to this conclusion as well.

Sure.

When I was eight years old, I was diagnosed with ADD—Attention Deficit Disorder. This is considered a related but separate and distinct thing from ADHD.

When I was a teenager, a new DSM came out. ADD was no longer considered a distinct thing. My diagnosis changed to ADHD-I: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Inattentive Type.

My brain didn’t change, but the professional perception of what was up with it did.

Is ADD materially different from ADHD? Can you have ADHD without hyperactivity? That used to be no, now it’s yes; answer the first question, that used to be yes, now it’s no.

I see very similar things between ADHD and autism. Lots of people do. Traits like the ability to fixate on an interest to the physical inability to pay attention to anything else; infodumping past the point other people lose interest; penchant for physical clumsiness and poor coordination; emotional dysregulation; proclivity to sensory overload; anxiety over not emoting correctly… they’re ADHD things and autism things. Is bouncing my leg an autism stim or an expression of ADHD hyperactivity? Or is it just fidgeting like people do sometimes? I dunno. Are they in fact materially different things?

Similar to ADD, Asperger’s Syndrome is no longer a thing. It’s subsumed under Autism Spectrum Disorder now. Is “high functioning” autism the same material thing as “low functioning” autism? Is “high functioning” autism the same thing as “ADD”? Idk. In some people I think it is.

Especially in mental disorders and neurodivergences, diagnoses aren't physical, material things. They're names given to commonly occurring collections of traits or symptoms. There's no virus that causes ADHD, no bacteria that can be isolated that causes autism. COVID is caused by the virus SARS-CoV-2; strep throat is caused by Streptococcus bacteria. They have symptoms, but they are primarily defined by their root cause. ADHD, autism, and plenty of other Brain Things do have neurochemical correlates - that is, there is an aspect of physical reality to them, you brain is wired a certain way - but it's not like ADHD is caused by the ADHD Virus and Autism is caused by the Autism Germ. They're names given to observable sets of traits, in order to figure out ways of treating and managing them. And I think drawing a sharp distinction between them - THIS is ADHD, and THIS is autism, and they're NOT THE SAME! - is pointless.

I like to use the xkcd color survey as an analogy for... well, a lot of things about the human experience and the way we classify it.

If you weren't around in 2010, xkcd's Randall Munroe asked the internet to help crowdsource the true names and boundaries of colors. You could sit down at the screen, colors would appear before you by random hexcode, and you typed in the name you'd call it. You could do this as many times with as many colors as you wanted. This was the resultant chart he made:

This shows the entirety of fully saturated RGB color space. Each pixel is a different hex code. Each pixel represents a different individual's brain.

I usually use this chart to talk about sexual orientation/queer identities. But it's also a great analogy for the categorizations being diagnoses.

If "Blue" is, say, ADHD, and "Purple" is Autism, you can image how one person's "purple" experience may be wildly different from another "purple" experience but very similar to a "blue" experience. But they're labelled differently, for various reasons. Maybe the doctor had recently seen a lot of blues, and this one seems more purple in comparison. Maybe the doctor has a really specific idea of what blue is, so this can't be blue, it must be purple. Which is not to say some blues aren't wildly different from some purples, that some purples match the platonic ideal image in your mind of what "purple" is more than others. There's still clearly a lot of overlap in blue and purple experiences.

That's kind of how I think about ADHD and autism.

And who knows, maybe I think this just because I am actually autistic. I've asked myself that, wondered that before. Am I? Or are these just ADHD symptoms that overlap? And honestly at this point the answer isn't super important to me. I know how my brain works and how to deal with it when it gets bad, and there's very little that pursuing a diagnosis would do for me at the point I'm at in my life.

But when I say that I suspect the two aren't as materially distinct as they're sometimes made out to be, this is what I mean.

#asks #anonymous #I'm no neurologist or psychologist this is just my observation from living my whole life with a Neurodivergent Brain of my particular type

[houseofhyde]

ii. a game of westerosi chess.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. the six chess pieces in the king’s game and how your uncle calls checkmate. read the first part here !

warnings. niece!reader, targcest, possessiveness, themes of sexual/romantic ownership, alicent slander (im sorry, i love her, but this is daemon’s pov and we all know that man wakes up every morning and makes the conscious decision to be a hater), daemon being a filthy pervert (affectionate), smut ( masturbation, breeding kink, voyeurism, dacriphilia, virgin kink- if that's even a thing-, implied bi!daemon )

word count. 11.3k

taglist. @nyctophilic0vitnir​

hyde’s input. yes, i could have just made them get married after the events in part one. no, that wouldn’t be as fun as watching daemon suffer. i went and fucked myself over a little though because i never realised how much i’d struggle to write from his point of view without the fear of making him too out of character or his behaviour feel, idk, fake? empty? idk what the right word is but yeah. i caught the flu and have had sick-brain the whole time while writing this so who knows if the writing is even comprehensible lmao :)

disclaimer: i’ve never played chess (i'm too dumb for that) so pretend any incorrect comparisons are simply because there’s different rules for chess in westeros <3

when daemon targaryen was five years old, no more than a mischievous little babe who haunted the halls of the red keep, there was no one greater in his eyes than his older brother.

his older brother who bonded with the largest dragon; who snuck wine into his cup when the adults were occupied with their political indiscretions; who stood up for him even in times where he was the culprit. 

his older brother who had the longest winning streak in the whole of the red keep when it came to chess.

from maesters to the king, and ladies in waiting down to his own mother, there was not a single person within the castle who could face viserys targaryen in the game of strategic moves and walk away undefeated.

it was an understood fact: viserys targaryen was a master at chess.

one day, after catching his younger brother, moon-eyed and fresh-faced from wondering the dragonpit in search of a dragon to claim, and now spying upon his winnings against a pretty maiden, viserys had called the boy over. with daemon captivated by the sight of the chess board, the older of the two felt the cogs in his brain turning, an idea spawning.

you see, when one becomes the best at something, there is no more challenge. no fun to be found when you’re no longer sat at the edge of your seat wondering if this person will finally be the one to best you. and, so, viserys thought if no one else was good enough to beat him, he’d need to create a worthy opponent.

enter onto the scene, daemon targaryen.

with him being but a child still, viserys began his teaching with what captivated the little boy most: the figures which sat atop the checkered board.

“this, brother, is the pawn. it’s the least worthy piece, but do not let that fool you into thinking it is weak, for anyone may wield power if they work hard enough. a pawn may become a queen, just as a fool may become a lord.”

the rogue prince, now a man of three and thirty, awakes with one thing on his mind: his niece.

he’s always been a restless sleeper, not even in dreams would he escape the havoc of his own head and the inner-workings of it. and, though he’d scarcely recall the images his sleeping mind would conjure, the evidence comes in the state he’d find himself in: sprawled diagonally across the bed, the pillows which had once provided rest for his head now scattered along the floor and the bedsheets- which scratched uncomfortably on his skin, a slick of sweat oozing from his pores and leaving him looking glazed, like a freshly cooked hog at a feast- now a wrinkled tangle around his waist, trapping his legs in the cotton confines.

he spies the familiar lick of sunlight casting through the closed curtains, affirming that dawn has indeed passed and a new day is upon him.

running a hand over his face, a disgruntled sound escapes him, sluggishly moving himself to sit up right, that familiar yet new ache in his back flaring up and begging for release in the form of stretching limbs and extended muscles. age has begun to sneak up on him, grabbing him in it’s clutches and reminding the egotistical man that he is just that: a man, not a god, much to his own displeasure.

the hand departs from his face only to pause midair. a smell, heady and musk infused, reaches his nostrils. it’s dirty and grimey in every way yet enticing him to seek it out again, to sniff out wherever the odour is coming from and bury himself in it till he suffocates.

tentatively, he retraces his movements till his fingers dance over his face once again and realisation kicks him like the hoof of a horse, hard and with a lingering pounding.

only, the pounding comes from his crotch rather than his skull.

the smell is you, in all your dribbling, soaking, honeysuckle glory, stained on his skin like the slaves of volantis are stained with ink.

another inhale floods his senses with the memories from last night, replaying the feel of your bodies pressed together in dance, and your hand squeezing his almost painfully tight as he leads the way to your chambers, and the eager spreading of your legs as he at last satisfies his hunger for you- a hunger which had started sometime after you’d first began to present the figure of a woman, all supple breasts and pouting lips and silhouettes made of dresses that hid from view the naughty parts of you your uncle’s cock ached to see.

the voice in his head, which more often than not drives him to behave erratically, this time is but a whisper, a seduction of craving and curiosity that has him slipping his hand further down, brushing over the fine line of his lips and awaiting entrance as he parts his mouth open, brushing his stained digits over his tongue.

a jolt of heat burns down his spine while the sweet tang of your taste invades his senses. like biting through a lemon, the taste should repel him in every way, flood his soul with shame and leave him disgusted in himself.

instead, he licks his tongue in a silent plea for more.

the thought of never bathing again crosses daemon’s mind, unwilling to wash away the evidence of the peak he’d driven you to with nothing but his fingers. gods help the world when he finally gets his cock in you, for he’s likely to become a deranged, dirty shell of a man too busy getting fill after fill of your pulsing cunny to ever plunder himself into the oil-infused waters of a bath.

you’d be so sweet for him, a little harlet for him to mold and bend and break into every which-way he desires you. and it’s that thought, plus the taste of your dried essence, which has the rogue prince’s cock stirring beneath the tangled sheets.

desire awakens much like a dragon would: slowly and, then, all at once, eyes wide, chest huffing and puffing, and body arising from the ground.

the prince kicks the tangled sheets off, no thought given to whatever corner in the chambers he tosses them towards, eyes and hand and mind too focused on the once flacid organ between his leg growing more solid and red in the tip as the moments pass.

“fuck...” he means to only think it, yet speaks it aloud into the solace of the room as the warmth of his hand makes itself familiar with his cock.

he gives himself a tug, dry hand meeting the movement with resistance yet the layer of skin which conceals his soon-to-be seed soaked slit retracts enough to allow the blushing head of his cock to poke through. while he’d typically prefer to wet it with a whore’s cunt, or slicken it with whatever mindless ointment he could find laying around, daemon finds himself gathering his own saliva and spitting a fat drop of it into the palm of his hand.

the glide of his digits over the organ becomes easier, allowing him to work himself into full-blown hardness, cock taking over the use of his brain and sending him into a state of restless lust, demanding to be fed and satiated with the emptying of his stones, preferably into the warm, pulsating, tight cunt of his little dove.

while the prince does debate his ability to throw on a robe- or, even, roam the halls in his nude glory- and seek out your likely sleeping form, to watch as you startle awake with the breaking of your maidenhead and cry out for your uncle to fill you with his spend till you’re swelling with his bastard, he decides he prefers the thought of making you wait a little longer, see how much he can test the limits of your impatient desires.

after all, a maiden always feels best when her cunt’s as soaked as her crying eyes and her mouth’s spewing plead after plead, begging for his cock.

while one hand works over himself, the other sneaks it’s way back into his mouth, lust bursting into bright colours as he licks over the taste of you, soaking it into his bloodstream and making you part of his genetics- just as he is part of yours.

daemon allows his eyes to slip shut, sinking into sweet fantasies and mental pictures of bouncing tits and blood stained sheets, only to reopen them within an instant at the sound of his chamber door slamming against the solid wall.

“oh my!” a young girl dressed in rags turns her back on him as quickly as she notices his naked form, as if allowing him to compose himself and make himself presentable. “i’m so sorry, my prince! i would have knocked but he said i should simply let myself in!”

daemon makes no attempt to find cover.

“do whatever it is you need to do.” he speaks with a tone far too relaxed for a man who’s still got a grip on his cock. if anything, the raggedness in his breaths comes from his frustrations of losing the flavour of you on his tongue. “don’t stop on my account.”

she hesitates upon facing him again, eyes clearly wandering off from her own commands and glancing down at his exposed crotch more times than he imagines she’s comfortable with. from the look of her, she’s young in age- likely only recently blossomed into a woman- and, at the thought of his being the first cock she’s ever seen, he feels himself grow closer to his peak, a sick and twisted satisfaction buzzing through his veins at the possibility of giving the sweet girl her first sense of visual arousal.

when the shock passes, yet still lingers in her features like a harsh cough irritates the throat, she makes her way fully into the room. in her arms, a tray with a mass of food, enough to feed a lord and his men for several nights. without a word, she lays the assortment out on the large table within his chambers, hands shaking under her own nerves.

meanwhile, daemon slows the flick of his own wrist, teasing his cock with the impending satisfaction. a smile, too faint to be seen yet present enough that he feels the slight stretch of his lips, births itself as he considers who this offering of a feast may be from.

“what’s this about, girl?” he throws the question out into the air, clear amusement in his tone.

“the king, my prince.” just as he expected. “he’s ordered this be sent to you.”

and so it begins, he thinks.

his brother is buttering him up, showing a sign of good-will to have daemon in his good graces when he orders the rogue prince betroths himself to the king’s pretty daughter, her supposed virtue now a pile of crumbled ruins in the eyes of the court. as if he needs convincing to take such a sweet young thing to wife, the perfect little bird made of blonde hair, valyrian blood, sugar-coated cum and the sweetest song of whimpers and pleas.

“then make sure you let my brother know how eager i am to receive his feast.” he can feel himself reaching the edge of his peak, tethering off the edge and seconds away from painting his hand white with wasted seed.

perhaps the serving girl will lick it clean for him.

“of course, my prince.” once finished with the arranging of the feast, the maiden straightens out some wrinkles in her skirt- though it does nothing to clean up her looks- and begins to make her way back toward the entry to his chambers. “the king will be surprised to see you so agreeable, though it will help soothe his unease, my lord.”

“his... unease?” daemon’s movements stop, the air runs dry and the girl visibly stiffens, hand curling around the door handle and clenching it as if it is the only thing giving her support.

clearly, she’s said something she shouldn’t have.

“i must go, my lord.”

“unease over what, girl?”

“you... you don’t know, do you?” she’s beginning to irritate him, speaking in riddles and shaking like a leaf in the winds of winter.

“answer me clearly or i’ll have your tongue.” the girl can not see the way he moves off the bed, nor the way he spies his eyes towards his trusted sword propped against a wall, but she certainly hears the loud thud of his feet meeting the floor, feels the darker shift of energy in the room as the rogue prince makes a threatening advance towards her.

“ser gerold royce, my prince...” he’s near certain she lets out a pathetic whimper, like a wounded doe. “he’s proclaimed himself as lord of runestone.”

the world comes to a stand still as her words flood over him.

while the prince is frozen in his spot, face an empty canvas devoid of emotion, the young girl makes a swift exit, wise enough to not wish to stick around long enough to bare witness to the hot-headed prince’s reaction. the slamming of the door on her way out seems to startle him back into motion, naked limbs striding across the room and grabbing at the door. he twists the handle and gives a harsh tug, strong enough to have the wood smash as it collides against the wall.

the door does not open.

he attempts again, and again, and again, and is met with the same resistance each time. only then does it dawn on him- the feast, the unease- this was never about his brother keeping him in his good graces.

this was about the king keeping him locked away in his chambers.

“next, you’ve got your knight. while still not a very point-worthy piece, this holds power in the way it moves, jumping over pawns like a real knight slices through his enemies with the point of his sword.”

four days pass by slowly within the confines of his chambers.

at first, he rages. pacing the floor till the plush carpeting runs thin, hacking away at hand-crafted furniture his ancestors had sat upon and broken fast at, mouth dropped open in a bellow of impassioned words of all the things he plans to do once he gets his hands on his older brother, most of which start and end with his grip on the king’s neck.

then, he tries rest.

it’s a hopeless attempt, though, as the thoughts are running far too rampant for him to ignore the fact he’s confined within his room, not a clue of what his brother has done in regards to runestone’s rebellion. then come the thoughts of you, his little dove, likely hurt, and confused, and needing your dear uncle’s guidance on how to continue onward, how to outsmart the wretched ladies within your father’s court, how to ensure you do not wind up married off to some boring oaf of a lord, with not a drop of valyrian blood in his veins.

after sleep evades him, and rage consumes him once more, he switches to pleasuring himself, hand squeezed tight around his cock and working over the sex organ till he’s completely spent, his sack drained and nothing but pathetic droplets of seed painting his skin by the eight, ninth, tenth peak he drives himself too, fuelling the fire of his lust with past rendevouz- the pentoshi whore he’d fucked in front of her own husband, the nights he’d spent in the streets of silk in rooms where cups and cunts were shared amongst the crowd, the young knight who’d sought him out after a tourney and cried out as daemon stretched the tight pink hole of his arse- and with future desires- the slapping of his stones against your pearl as he takes you from behind, your pretty eyes struggling back tears the first time he fucks his cock into your silky wet hole, the sick, and nasty, and down-right degenerate want to bend you over the small council table and shoot his seed into your womb for all those wrinkled cunts to bare witness to.

ultimately, it’s the memory of how you taste that sends him spiralling for a tenth time.

the rogue prince is a sexual deviant, that was the very first whisper that had flooded the keep about him. and oh how he’s worn it with pride over the years, a twisted joy found in watching their outrage each time he speaks of crass and acts on sin.

even so, there is only so much he can take until he reaches his limit. and, thus, with his cock feeling like it may fall off if he does not give it some recovery time, the prince returns to raging.

that is how the king finds him, sword in hand and the expensive fabrics that once made up the curtains leading onto a balcony now nothing but tattered rags on the floor.

“i must say, daemon, this takes me back.” viserys’ tone carries amusement, which licks at daemon’s ire and coaxes it back to life, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as the prince reminds himself- despite how infuriating the king may be- that he cares deeply for his older brother. “me entering your chambers and finding you amidst a temper tantrum.”

the prince is quick on his feet, turning on his ankle till he finds himself gazing upon the face of his brother. he’s dressed in his finest robes, a mixture of reds and blacks, yet daemon does not miss the green jewel on one of his fingers. the crown upon viserys’ head reflects the sun, shining offensively in the prince’s face as if to more harshly remind him of the inheritance he’ll never claim, the throne he’ll never sit.

“what is the meaning of this?” daemon bellows and instinctively raises dark sister, the tip of the blade pointed directly at his brother.

the sound of kingsguards drawing their own weapons floods the room yet the raise of viserys’ hand halts them all in their defence, calling his brother’s bluff.

“i had some business to attend to.” the king speaks so casually, as though he’s discussing the recent weather or what he’d eaten for his supper the evening before.

“so you imprison me in my chambers as if i am some ill-behaved child!” daemon means to question him yet his words come out as more of a statement, an acceptance of the matter at hand.

“yes, well, what kind of idiot would i be to let my brother wander free in my castle while i’m grasping at straws to prevent a war?” the room grows more tense with every exchanged word between the two brothers, a feat which doesn’t go unnoticed by the guards who stand by the king nor the maidens who had rushed in after the reopening of daemon’s chambers, scrambling around to tidy the place up. “a war which you started in the first place.”

it irks something in daemon, the way viserys remains level headed whilst he’s pacing the room, and gripping his sword, and releasing his frustrations in bursts of loud voices and disgruntled grunts. condescending in every way, it sends daemon into a headspace where he’s no longer a man-grown and, instead, a tear-stained child being reprimanded by his king and grandsire.

he liked to torture young daemon who, despite his best efforts, was always prone to outbursts of emotion- outbursts the old man liked to meet with calmed expressions and tired words of disappointment, dismissing his grandson to bed.

it seems to be a commonality shared among kings, antagonising daemon.

“a war i started?!” and yet he falls for the trap every time, meeting viserys’ passive with his aggressive, striding those few steps closer till he’s a hair away from touching the king with his blade. still, his brother holds off his guards. “and how do you suppose i done such a thing while being imprisoned!?”

“cool it with the theatrics, brother,” viserys punctuates his exhaustion with an eye roll and gives a single nod of his head, giving the kingsguards the go-ahead to swarm around daemon.

a pair of them, both young in their knighthood and matching in face, grab at the rogue prince’s arms and hold him in a stand-still while another guard plucks the weapon from his hand. daemon shoves against their hold and is met with more resistance.

dark sister is passed among the guards, each hand that touches it being added to a tally of people on daemon’s list of men to disembowel. finally, viserys holds the weapon, examining it like it is the very first time he’s seen it.

“daemon, it brings me no joy to do this,” the king starts up again, eyes meeting the glaring amethysts of his brother. “but with the tensions arising and war creeping over the horizon, i can not afford to risk anything going amiss.”

“get to the point, brother. you’re speaking in rhyme as if you were some bard.”

“very well. from now until i decide you are not a threat to this kingdom, your confinement will be stretched from your chambers to the red keep. you are to carry no weapon and you will step no foot out of this castle.”

“you’re a fool if you think i’ll agree to this.”

“it is an order from your king!” viserys lets the mask slip, intentionally or not, and his irritation shines through like the stars paint themself across the dark sky. “and if that’s not enough to keep you in line, you will also be monitored at all hours of the day, every move you make within these walls will be shadowed by that of a knight of my choosing.”

daemon targaryen considers murdering his brother.

“and i see no man more fit for the job than ser criston cole.”

for the first time in his life, daemon targaryen may just go through with it.

“the bishop may be similar to the knight in it’s point count, yet it moves differently. while a knight can not move three times in the same direction, a bishop must stay within the colour it started in. think of a bishop like a maester: chained to an oath it can never break”

he’d rather be forced to endure a lifetime of self-flagellation than another moment of this conversation.

“it is in your best interest, your grace, to cut this state of anarchy out from it’s roots before any other houses chose to follow in the footsteps of runestone.” the new hand of the king is certainly an improvement from the hightower cunt, daemon can’t deny it. yet a part of him feels the knife of betrayal twist deeper into his back upon realising his brother had not only ignored his own warnings of the green lord till rhaenyra brought them up too, but he’d once again given the role to a random lord in his court rather than his own brother. “we have cause to believe that the dandarrions may be next to follow, given the less than kind words your daughter had for them during her tour for a marriage.”

“then there is the matter with the lannisters and, of course, the never ending tensions with the dornish folk. they’re more weary than ever, since someone,” maester mellos has never been a subtle man, despite all his supposed wits and knowledge, and so it flies over no one’s head when he takes a glance at the rogue prince and his standing guard, the insufferable man who’s made himself daemon’s shadow. “went to war with the triarchy.”

“my apologies for riding you all of that tyrant crabfeeder!” daemon speaks for the first time since he’d been forced to sit at the small council. “i’ll be sure to stand by and allow the next one to rip you all to pieces.”

daemon drowns out the rest of the meeting, uninterested in hearing his brother grovel at ways to keep his subjects at bay, as though they are the ones that rule over him.

gifts of gold for the dandarrion, a knighting for the lannisters’ youngest lords, peace-offerings in the forms of poetic words, and sweetened fruits, and lavish silks for the dornish. each gift more empty than the last.

it’s the mention of your name that brings him back into the room.

“were she here, we could have used her as a bargaining plea for one of these stronger houses,” ser lyman beesbury is the one who speaks and, with each word, the rest of the councilmen grow wider in the eyes and stiffer in their seats.

daemon explains their otherwise odd reactions away with them simply feeling uncomfortable discussing you in his presence, everything changed and nothing the same since sometime between the night he had you pressed against your door and his confinement within the keep.

upon release back into the castle, he’d searched for you first of all, paying no mind to criston cole as the knight struggled to keep up with his rushed footfall, mind too focused on the renewed anger he wished to placate with his cock in your mouth and the further destruction of your purity, all in the name of spiting your father.

when he’d reached your chambers, however, he’d found nothing but a mess of emptied trunks and an unkept bed.

“the princess is not here.” ser criston had spoken between gasps of air, chest heaving beneath the unnecessary layers of chainmail and armor his position forces him to wear.

daemon had demanded an answer for your whereabouts, only to quickly realise the knight was none-the-wiser. it was the new hand, ultimately, that clued him in, over sips of wine and looks of caution from other council-men amid a private feast.

“driftmark, prince daemon.” he’d dabbed at the corners of his mouth with poise and composure, everything about the man seemingly perfected for politics, serving only to irritate the prince further. “the princess has accompanied her older sister and her new husband on their trip to laenor velaryon’s home.”

that was the last daemon had heard of you.

a near moon later and you were still out of reach, likely turning your nose at the smell of salt that coated the walls of the velaryon household and wondering why a certain red-speckled dragon had yet to swoop in on the island, carrying the cause and answer to all your problems upon it’s back.

“dare i say i agree, your grace,” another of the men chimes in, his words barely a whisper at first, glancing nervously toward the king. “perhaps we may write for her return and see to it that a betrothal be made.”

daemon chooses to observe viserys in this moment, eyes trailing over his features and taking note of every wrinkle in his brow, every greyed hair within his unshaven face, every upturn and scorn of his lip. there’s a wave of unease that’s fallen over his brother, and it only grows with every moment that the lords speak of you in the rogue prince’s presence, the air thick with the discussion the two brother’s had yet to have regarding the rumours of your deflowering.

“and, tell me, my lords, what you suggest we tell the princess’ current betrothed?” maester mellos, ever incapable of holding his tongue, barks across the table, deathly unaware of the looks that befall the council nor the tensing of daemon’s shoulders. “the king is trying to avoid war, not further instigate one by implying her current betrothal is not good enough, that house-”

“that’s enough!” the king rises from his chair all at once, slamming his hand down on the table and commanding the attention of everyone in the room, more so when he recoils in pain. all at once, the rumours of his declining health and the effect it’s had on his body feel all too true. “there will be no further discussions of my daughter nor the prospect of a new betrothal. what’s done is done and i will not go back on my word to appease your fear-mongering speculations. we will continue our diplomatic relationship with these houses and ensure they do good to remember who sits the iron throne.”

the men obey like sheep, each bowing their head and mumbling false reconciliations.

one by one, they all take their leave.

first, lyman beesbury, who with pale face and solemn eyes lays apologies at visery’s feet. next, the master of laws and maester mellos, neither of them wasting time with niceties and opting for a mere bow towards their king. when all the chairs lay empty, save for daemon’s and the king, silence runs thick through the room. neither brother moving, each testing their unnamed opponent and awaiting the first blow through the tension to be made.

daemon grows impatient.

“unless corlys velaryon fucked a new son into our lady cousin and had the babe birthed in a matter of days, i do wonder who you’ve betrothed my niece to on driftmark.”

“do you know what your problem is, daemon?” though viserys’ words come out with inquisitory tones, he leaves no space for the prince to answer. “you’re so busy with your own schemes and plans that you fail to see when you’re the one being played.”

daemon feels small.

for a moment, he’s no longer a man grown into a soldier, with a mighty sword and a fearsome dragon. instead, he’s frail and weak, and staring across at his older brother as he beats him once more in the game of knights and checkered spaces, a taunting look on his face as he knocks over the little boy’s king piece and declares himself victor.

when the moment passes, he straightens his posture and rises from his seat, and reminds himself of the words his mother would comfort her crying babe with each time he failed to win, whispers of how there’s always something to be gained in any loss he finds.

he settles with leading his brother further into the trap of rumours him and his niece have conjured up together.

“i hear your new wife is fond of the seven, brother.” the prince reaches to grip the hilt of his sword, only to find an empty space and the reminder that he carries no weapon as of late. “ask her to pray for your daughter, i don’t believe she tasted the bitterness of moon tea after our evening together.”

the king does not call daemon’s bluff.

“this right here? the rook, worth more than the bishop or knight, yet less than the king or queen, it is an allusive piece. play the game wisely and your rook may trap the king, leaving it with nowhere to run.”

with the passing of another moon, daemon plunders deeper into insanity.

he’s always been a man of possession, the kind who owns and conquers and takes. objects, lands, people. they’re all the same in daemon’s chequebook of ownership. and, while living a rather messy and unkept life, he enjoys the pleasantness of having his possessions in his line of sight, like the sword he’s worn at his hip since the old king bestowed it upon him, or the seating he takes at every royal feast, chair angled perfectly to keep his eyes on the brother, nieces, family he possesses.

with dark sister out of reach and his most recent favoured family member out of sight- the pretty niece he’s silently layed his claim on-, destruction is imminent.

no longer does he debate with his own inner-turmoil over if he will go against the king’s orders but, rather, he questions when.

when will he redeem his previous loss against ser criston cole, beat the knight to the ground and steal his weapon as he lays unconscious?

when will he slip through the cracks in the castle walls, making use of the secretive halls built by maegor the cruel himself and slice through any guard who may attempt to get in his way?

when will he take the skies atop his fire-breathing mount, fleeing the city of whispering cunts and chees-playing fools?

the answer to each questions comes back to one thing, one person, one possession he needs to locate first.

you.

the events to follow the council meeting had lead him to several conclusions.

the first, and most obvious one, was that you clearly were not on driftmark, as lord strong had so boldly claimed. the second took him a few sleeps to fully decide upon but, remembering the words spoken of your betrothal among the council men and the apparent greater houses they could have given your hand to, daemon crossed off the possibility of you being in winterfell, the young stark lord likely too prideful to entertain the king’s earlier propositions of marriage after the way you’d left him amid a feast to go and- falsely rumoured- fuck your uncle.

with the dandarrions, the lannisters and the dornish folk already ruled off the list, it left daemon with few options.

his strongest lead is the baratheons, a long-standing connection between the two houses and a recently widowed lord who’s previous wife had gifted nothing but girls from her womb, it took no genius to assume a targaryen bride would serve him well.

daemon will soon find out he's wrong.

there’s an unease that takes over someone’s chambers the moment they notice something has been tampered with, whether it be as silly as a glass moved a few inches across a table or something as significant as a chest of drawers laying open when they’d clearly been left shut.

it tickles the back of the prince’s neck this very evening, skin rising to mimic that of a goose as he trails his eyes over his surroundings.

he’d returned to his chambers later than usual this evening, the day spent cornering council-men and threatening them- daemon had quickly discovered they feared him less with no blade to slice through them and his own personal minder at his back, that ridiculous kingsguard armour reflecting every ray of sun and every burn of candlelight.

daemon had taken to tormenting the poor ser crispin only a matter of days into their forced companionship. he figured that, if he may no longer seek joy in the streets of silk or the bloodshed of his enemies, let him at least take pleasure in the squirming discomfort of a man he loathes entirely.

“my niece,” he’d spoke as the two sat through their usual quiet supper together. “did you enjoy fucking her?”

“i did not fuck princess y/n.”

“well, of course not,” daemon pushed his spoon back and forth, passing time while he thought up his next taunt. “my younger niece has always had the more refined taste out of the two of them. rhaenyra, on the other hand, well she’d fuck a hound if it licked her the right way.”

“all this from a man who preys on his own blood for his sexual deviance. you and i both know what you done to your niece, how you seduced such a-”

“my nieces have always seemed so alike. both pale haired, both sharing the same smile, both wearing the same dresses.” the knight and the prince had long abandoned their food now, discussion heavy with daemon’s accusation of ser criston abandoning his own vows and committing what he can only imagine would be declared treason, deflowering a princess. perhaps soon the two will share something in common. “now i wonder if they feel the same. you must know, so tell me, did rhaenyra’s cunt grip your pathetic cock in a vice that threatened to ruin any other woman for you? or is that a trait only my youngest niece possesses?”

even now, hours into the late night and several more cups of wine drowning in his system, daemon can not bite back a dry laugh as he recalls the astound look upon the knight’s face, a mixture of disgust and discomfort.

he’s seated- more accurately speaking, he’s draped- upon a chaise, muscles tense and mind racing, in need of distraction. most of his nights end like this now, several emptied pitchers of wine along the floor, red staining his mouth and his own figure collapsed over whatever surface he finds first. occasionally, he’d attempt to have his way with a serving girl, ignoring the looks of ser criston as he stands guard outside his chambers and watches the prince enter with his partner for the evening, yet most were dismissed before daemon could satisfy himself, a mixture of his own drunken incontinence and their far too placid natures.

at least the whores of the silk street make him believe they want him.

letting out a groan, he sinks further into the seat, legs bent at the knee and feet planted firmly on the ground as he lets himself lay back fully. he’s contemplating taking rest here for the evening, and weighing the likely-hood of awakening with a new pain in his neck. 

it would certainly be a more comfortable sleep than the would he’d taken last night, back slumped against a wall and body sat atop the cool marbled floor.

he makes his choice, limbs too tired to make the few paces to his bed, and resigns himself for the night, twisting once more to find the most comfortable position upon the chaise and closing his eyes.

only to reopen them instantly.

something rustles. that feeling of unease creeps in once again, slow like fog over the horizon, hazy and threatening, and cold in every sense of the word. someone has been in his chambers, is in his chambers, and they’ve left something askew.

his eyes dart over the room, trying to assess every nook and corner and crevice within it in hopes of spotting a pair of spying eyes or unsettled objects. struggling due to all the blind spots his position has created, daemon heaves himself back into the upright position, figure slouched and back curved uncomfortably.

the rustling happens again.

he shoots up from his seat, wondering if his inebriated state has begun to create delusions, or if the psychosis caused by staring at the same red walls of the keep nonstop has finally begun to take over. he must be going mad, he thinks, eyes scanning over the whole of his room as he turns in place, cursing the more he notices nothing out of the ordinary.

until he sees it.

there, placed exactly where his tired limbs had been mere moments ago, lays a note.

it’s folded over and sporting a strange yellow blotch in one of it’s corners while, in the centre, written in the blackest ink so delicately and flowery it near stirs his cock in his breeches, kepus.

he snatches at the paper, near tearing it in two with the speed he unfolds it, eyes racing over every scribble and every swirl of pretty inked words.

the rain is the only thing that brings me comfort these days.

the letter begins and, while the writer has still not identified themselves, the prince is more than certain he knows who is speaking.

i’ve never been a fan of change (i’m sure you recall my horrid tantrums as a child whenever my mother assigned me a new handmaiden), yet never have i faced one so large. where in the capital i spent my days with books and needles and rides upon dragon’s back, here i am told to sit quiet as a mouse, as though i am merely another ornament within the lord’s home. where i once spent nights rolling my eyes and wishing to be excused from public feasts, here i cry and ache for a morsel of socialising outside the lord’s inner circle. where once i slept sound over the small folk screaming and cheering into the late night, here i sit awake by the window and listen to each raindrop.

i am not built for the cold, both in weather and in people. they frighten me here, which is a thing i never thought i’d need admit to. there are no whispers here, only silence. but their eyes, they speak paragraphs of hatred and disdain and ill-intentions with a simple glance. i need not worry if they will eat me alive here, but rather whom will be the one to do so. in the capital i’ve always felt untouchable, first because i was my father’s daughter, a princess of the realm, and, when that began to lose effect, you stepped in and taught me safety can be found in another, with your advice and your combat training and your inability to let me fall asleep without you on my mind.

i’ve developed a sick obsession for you, uncle, and it is entirely your fault.

he’s sunk back onto the chaise, hand gripping the letter tighter as a mixture of worry and anger stirs up in his loins. worry over the tales you tell, anger for the possibility of this being a sick game, a note written by some pathetically bored serving wench aiming to ruffle some feathers.

he decides he must keep reading to uncover the truth.

and so, now, it is with heavy heart that i must admit i’m disappointed. don’t perceive me as foolish, for i am wiser than some maiden who believes the things i feel for you to be love. but i always believed there was understanding between us, two different souls yet so completely immersed and knowing of each other’s drives and needs. even when i was a child, you were always the first to notice once i was too tired to continue with the festivities or when i craved the thrill of sneaking down to the dragonpit to spy upon the great beasts. i thought you’d understand, too, that this is not the life i wishfor: a husband with the personality of a wet piece of parchment and a life of silence and gloom.

i am a dragon, just like my sister, and my father, and our ancestors. and a dragon can not grow in a cage, so why have you let them put me in one? you agreed to help me, to ruin me for any other lord so that my father would have no option to but to wed us, leaving us both to our own devices. you, gaining that valyrian wife you always wanted while not changing your whorish ways, and i, earning the freedom i would not find shackled to some low achieving, overbearing, egotistical man. yet i now have a betrothed who’s hair is brown and who’s house has no dragon.

i will risk writing this only once, for the spiders may not spin their thread here but they still bite, and ask this of you: speak sense into my father. tell him i’m with child, tell him i’m a threat to the realm, tell him i’m plotting my own death. tell him any lie you need to put a stop to this betrothal and bring me home, to where i belong.

or, outsmart him and simply come rescue me yourself, like some knight on his white stallion (caraxes would likely singe my hair off if i ever dared call him such a thing in his presence).

i’ll be awaiting your next move, uncle. be sure you play wisely and don’t lose both your princess and your king.

coldest regards,

your little dove.

p.s. i have cum to learn that, while my fingers are indeed skilled, they are nowhere near as good as yours were, kepus.

the intensity behind the stare he holds the note under may just set it alight.

no longer does he doubt who could have written such a thing, the mentions of your joint ploy to deceive the courtiers and the wording used to describe the connection shared between you both marking the undeniable truth of the letter’s author. 

perversion brings him to reread the final sentence, mind fully registering them and flooding him with pink hued paintings of his pretty niece, as nude as the day you were born, now flushed skin and hardened nipples and honey dripping down your thighs as your dainty hands fail to fuck themselves as deeply as his had.

daemon can’t help but wonder what his little dove must think of in moments of self-pleasure, questions of whether you were depraved enough to think of men doing unspeakable things to you or if you merely blush over the memory of your uncle.

reading over the last part two more times, his eyes scatter back up the page- first, in an effort to avoid having to deal with his own impending arousal, and then because he feels compelled to read over the letter once more, eyes scanning over every detail.

it takes an unknown number of reads for him to notice a code among the words, a subtleness of ink layered to appear harsher, darker, more noticeable than the other words upon the parchment.

i’m, where, you, once, were.

i’m where you once were.

an inexplicable sense of pride comes over him, the fact his little dove has found a way to tell him something whilst, simultaneously, telling him nothing. were your worries true of spiders and the risk of one of them reading this letter in the time it took to reach him, he doubts any of them would be wise enough to notice the message, much less decipher it’s meaning.

and, while he applauds your display of wits, he despises his own inability to comprehend it. if you are where he once was, where had he been?

just about everywhere in the seven kingdoms, is the unfortunate truth.

by the time sleep at lasts takes over him, daemon has gained two things: the letter you’ve sent and the unbreakable will to move in on the king at last.

“the objective of chess is to protect your king while attacking your opponent’s. you must back the king into a corner, leave him with no way out, place him in check. only then will you be able to call checkmate and win.”

daemon nudges the knight with his foot.

as they’d sat for supper that evening, the prince had felt doubtful of the contents in the vial. he’d pinched it from the grand maester himself and, though he payed no real coins, the prince would argue he payed a grater price: feigning interest in conversing with old crone. a near three hours he’d sat, listening to the man drone on and on, till at last he’d excused himself to relieve his bladder and left daemon with a window of opportunity, his ointments and medicine all in a neat little display.

having little time, he’d grabbed at what he was sure to be milk of the poppy- a significantly smaller dose remaining within the vial compared to the rest- and tucked it in his trousers, at last excusing himself from the bore of a lifetime.

it wasn’t difficult to slip the liquid into a cup of wine, nor was it particularly hard to convince ser criston to drink from it, inviting the knight to join in on his empty toast towards the hightower queen and yet another pregnancy.

hours later and ser crispin lays slumped over outside his door.

daemon gives one more nudge for safety and, when the man merely slouches even closer to the ground, he grabs at the knight’s weapon and nestles it in his own scabbard, making use of it for the first time in two moons.

the hour is late and most of the keep have given in to the temptations of rest, yet the prince still travels the halls with caution, one eye looking over his shoulder. he half expects every guard he passes to seize him on sight, spewing some nonsense of his wrongful weapon or non-permitted solitude. with luck he reaches his destination, no one to spy upon the way he enters into the emptied library nor to witness as he shoves a bookcase aside and steps into the tunnel.

his memory serves him well, even after all these years, navigating himself through the interconnected secrets of the keep. he passes rooms of lords laid in bed with women they do not call wife, and ladies disrobing for the evening, and the still empty chambers of his little dove, till, at last, he reaches where he wants to be, not bothering with patience before barging his way out of the tunnel and into the regal chambers of the king.

“it took you longer than i expected.” daemon had counted on his brother being the one wearing shock upon his face, yet it is the prince who plays the fool, stepping into the room to find his older brother sat at a table, goblet in hand and a familiar checkered board in front of him.

it irks him to hear the king even imply he’d been expecting his arrival.

“don’t you have a wife to be bedding, brother?” he steps deeper into the chambers with caution, eyes on the empty bed and the lack of sight of his brother’s breeding mare.

“pregnancy, daemon. it works wonders on a woman’s body,” he takes a sip of his drink before reaching to pour a second cup meant for the prince. “it’s just a shame one of those wonders comes in the form of my wife snoring louder than a lion roars.”

it’s strange to hear his brother discuss details of his new bride.

daemon had never sought answers for their marriage, yet he’d forever questioned what had driven his brother to marry such a girl, childhood friend of his eldest daughter and so clearly lacking the backbone needed to stand up for herself against the injustices forced against her by her own father. were the prince a more gentle person at heart, perhaps he’d find it in him to pity her.

instead, he sees her as just another thorn in his brother’s side, waiting for the chance to poison his mind and seat one of her wretched babes upon the throne.

“come, come,” dragging him out of his thoughts is viserys once more, now half-hovering over the table and moving his limbs back and forth, hands carefully placing each piece upon it’s designated checker. “sit down! let us play!”

only as he’s seated across from viserys does he notice he’s been bestowed with playing the blacks on the board. never before was he allowed, the older of the two always insisting black was his lucky colour and refusing to play the whites.

in truth, daemon has always suspected his brother had been to fearful to play white, not knowing how to make a good first move and relying on his opponent to instead kickstart the game and give him places to move his pieces.

“isn’t it a beautiful board?” the elder must confuse his staring as a sign of fascination, gawking at the splendour of it. “it’s the very same one mother gifted me after i bested her for the first time.”

there it is, that familiar lick of envy, a sick and cruel twist in his guts as he stares down at an object viserys gets to remember their parents by, while all daemon ever got was disapproving looks and half-hearted embraces. perhaps the rumours are true and the prince has a complex which forces him to pity himself, to cast a shadow upon his own image and declare that it was a wrong forced upon him by others.

or, more likely, the consequences of watching his parents prop viserys up on a mantelpiece whilst leaving him in a corner to collect dust had lead him down the path to the destructive man he’s become.

even when he’d claimed caraxes, he could only imagine what his father’s reaction would have been, were he still alive to witness it. 

impressive, but your brother claimed the greatest dragon to have ever lived, the one who the great conqueror rode upon and forged a throne under the black dread’s flames.

“‘tis exactly the same as any other chess board, brother.” he lets petty feelings spin lies on his tongue, rolling his eyes and disregarding the clear etherealness, the intricate carvings on each piece and the extravagant linings of the board, and each of it’s shimmering onyx and quartz squares.

daemon downs half his cup in one sip, eyes trained on his brother’s first move.

king’s pawn forward two spaces, a strong start and an immediate attack to the centre.

it’s fitting, daemon thinks, for this to be the first move his brother makes while leading a game. while a powerful start, it’s rather obvious, one he’d seen viserys defeat in a manner of mere seconds. perhaps age has taken away his astute mind and skill for the game.

daemon retaliates, moving one of his bishop’s pawns forward two spaces.

with the crease that forms in viserys’ brow, daemon delights. his brother was not expecting him to move in such a way, likely expecting him to do something erratic like bringing his queen’s pawn forward.

the pair continue to move in silence, sips of wine and scratching of pieces echoing around the chambers. it’s deceivingly peaceful, nothing like the confrontation the rogue prince had geared himself up to walk into. while he’d awaited bursts of anger and scathing accusations and marks of betrayal, the two sit like children once more, moving empty objects in an imitation of politics.

the only difference is daemon appears to have the upper hand, a growing collecting of white pieces stored to the right of his long-ago emptied and refilled cup.

as always, it’s daemon who takes the first bite.

“i’m afraid i must pay you your dues, brother.” his words slip through his own smirking lips, satisfaction rolling in by the hundreds as he spies the white king, slowly losing places to hide on the board. “it’s truly applaudable how you managed to not only secure one daughter a marriage amid questions of her virtue, but two! young helaena will follow in her half-sisters’ footsteps, surely.”

viserys’ hand pauses mid-air, his remaining bishop held in his grasp. his grip tightens with each passing second. the older has always been more level-headed, that no one can dispute, but the rogue prince will forever swear up and down, high and low, that it is his brother who carries the more foul temper.

viserys’ anger is just harder to weed out from behind false niceties and calmed breathing.

“if you mean to say that helaena will be so lucky as to marry a noble man, filled with honour,” he lays his bishop down at last, not managing to capture any of daemon’s blacks. “then yes, i should hope so. both the betrothal of my eldest daughter and my middle-born were to good men, faithful lords. my helaena will be lucky to do the same.”

“you never did quite tell me about y/n’s betrothal, brother.” the king chuckles at daemon’s words, empty amusement in the obvious statement the prince makes. still, he makes no attempt to stop him, letting him string the conversation along to the dreaded topic between them: the rumours of what daemon had done to you. “last i spoke with her, she was rather... occupied with something other than the prospect of marriage. when you announced her future union to her, did she drop on her knees and kiss your feet in gratitude? or did she spit at you and-”

“did she drop on her knees for you?” the raise in viserys’ voice is minimal yet enough to have daemon smirking over the rim of his cup, amused to see his brother being led into his trap for once.

he makes his next move on the board fist, plucking his knight and moving it over one of his own pawns. if he plays is cards right, messes with his brother’s head just the right amount, perhaps he won’t notice how he’s moving in on his king.

his only hope is to keep talking about his little dove.

“so that’s what you wish to discuss, brother? how it felt to fuck your young daughter?” for the first time he speaks the lie out loud, no hiding behind innuendos nor insinuations. they need to believe you’ve stolen my virtue, kepus, were the words you’d whispered to him, face still fresh from dried tears and teeth stained purple with the wine he’d let you sip from his glass late into the night as the rest of the world had slept, they need to think that you fucked me.  he’d sworn an oath to you, to put on a show and ruin you beneath the judgement of others. he’ll be damned if viserys becomes an exception to this oath. “because i can go into detail, you needn’t beg. i can tell you of how it felt to have her squeeze around my cock, and how she arched that little back like a cat, spine curving deeper each time i pounded into her. i can tell you of how she begged for her uncle, her kepus, to shoot his spend into her aching womb and-”

a screech rings out as viserys’ chair flies backwards, the king rising to a stand and glaring down at his brother, who only sinks deeper into the velvet lined seat and allows himself another sip of his glass, face painted in pure amusement as viserys’ reflects that of an angered dragon.

“enough! i will not have you speak such atrocities about your own niece!”

“oh spear me the lecture of the seven, brother!” the hypocrisy to shun him for lusting after his own kin, it has to be the hightower cunt’s doing. feeding lies into her new husband’s head, any means to have his true-blooded targaryen daughters removed from the line to the throne. daemon at last feels himself begin to irk, a scowl engraving itself into his forehead. “your own beloved, your late wife, shared blood with you and you never once objected to bedding her. it is our family’s birthright to keep the blood of the dragon burning hot, not dampen it with that of lesser folk. i mean our parents, for gods’ sake, they were siblings! are you going to tell me it’s wrong?”

“this is not about you being her uncle, daemon. this is about you being you! and her being my sweet girl, one of the last pieces of aemma-”

daemon can’t help himself, flying out of his own seat with the slam of his hand on the table. the pieces rattle under the impact, the white queen toppling over and sending her pawn flying off the board.

“your sweet girl who you let be slandered by the same lords who break bread at your table and drink from your cups!” the prince stands taller than the king, shoulders straight and head held high as he flips positions, becoming the one staring down upon his older brother, who’s slouched and frailer than he once was, hands searching for the steadying hold of the oak table. “tell me, brother, where were you when she drank herself sick as they spoke on her fertility? what did you do when they mocked her for being scared after an attack on her life, in her own chambers!? did you even ask her what happened between us before you shipped her off like cattle to the slaughter, let her tell you it was she who asked it of me? she detested the thought of marrying some unknown lord so much she’d rather destroy her maidenhood and her honour, but you wouldn’t see that, too blinded by your own downfall into becoming a boot-licker for all these cunts who hold land in your realm.”

viserys can only stare, frozen where he stands and eyes widened in bewilderment at his brother’s own outburst, chest heaving in anger and hands shaking with adrenaline as he points towards the king.

“are you in love with her?”

no more than a whisper, so quiet the rogue prince is almost sure he imagines it.

till the king repeats himself.

"gods, don't be ridiculous!" it’s neither a yes nor a no, and daemon is so painfully aware of this, aware that he gives no real answer to your father nor himself.

the concept of love and all it entails has never appealed to the prince, at least in the way it’s presented in song and written of in history. all his life he’d heard of knights who’s lady love was a gem they sought to hold, to sing songs of faithfulness and dance around with hands entwined by marriage. of men who made themselves better, kinder, more gentle, all in the hopes of pleasing their lover and winning her hand. daemon had never experienced such a feeling.

while love is something most feel in their heart, daemon feels it in his loins.

it’s a hunger that consumes his very being, aching, and growling, and demanding to be fed with bursts of passion and shouts of anger. it’s a possession he needs to take, to mark someone as his, in every sense of the words. his to own, his to touch, his to drown in expensive gifts. his love is not kind, but brutal, and loud, and forceful, never leaving room for the rest of the world to doubt it. it makes him want to march into battle, to burn down cities, to spill the blood of any who dare harm the object of his obsession. his love is a fire that burns him from within, spilling out from his skin and scorching everything in it’s path.

the prince is not sure if he wants you to burn in its flames.

“but i could give her a greater life than any other man in this realm.” what he is certain of is that he will not stand by as your father let’s you be ruined by someone other than him. “a good man means nothing if he can not keep her safe, or even happy. at the very least, wedding her to me would mean her husband is someone familiar. she wouldn’t have to leave her home, or change her ways, or even bare a child if she does not wish to.”

viserys sighs, tired body dropping back into his chair and his mangled hand reaches up to brush over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeeze shut. the prince almost believes he sees a flicker of resignation, winning his brother over at last or exhausting him so deeply he sees no choice but to accept his words as truth, if only to silence him.

instead, the king reaches for the board once more, an airy laugh escaping him as he examines the placement of each piece. leaning over, he sits his queen back up and drums his fingers on the table.

he laughs once more.

"after all these years, daemon, you still struggle to capture my queen."

“but your queen, daemon. the queen is where you hide all your power, look for where your opponent keeps their queen and there you shall find true victory.”

the words of years ago spin round and round in the prince’s head.

his eyes, glued to the board, watch as the king moves his queen out two spaces and captures daemon’s knight, snatching it off the board and tossing it over his shoulder. viserys looks up, awaiting for daemon to continue the match, to put an end to it at last.

but he’s too stuck on the phrasing his brother had used, stubborn in his belief that it’s meaning has little to do with the game upon the table and, rather, the one that’s being played with words and whispers and undisclosed betrothals.

the prince thinks of the queen, the hightower girl who parades around the courts in green silks and upon swollen ankles, face downtrodden each time she foolishly thinks no one is looking. if ever he believed viserys held true affection for her, he’d wonder if she was who the king refers to, if otto hightower had truly been sent back to oldtown empty handed or with a new bride on his arm.

but any fool with a set of eyes can see the king loves his second wife like he loves the iron throne: through duty and obligation.

it is, instead, the late queen aemma who viserys must speak of.

and, while her maiden home, house arryn, where she’d spent her girlhood in the days before she’d been betrothed to her cousin, possesses no lord nor man awaiting a wife, a neighbouring house had just recently named a new wifeless lord.

a house which remembers, especially those who wrong it.

“no…”

i'm where you once where.

“you have to understand, daemon, that the actions you take leave me with consequences to bare. after what happened to lady rhea… after what you done,” his brother, so clearly exhausted with the secrecy and the scheming, folds like a house of cards against a gentle breeze, collapsing further into his seat and shaking his head. he does not notice as daemon moves his own queen along the board. “the vale were at an unease. threatened, was the word they used. so when lord royce staked his claim over his house’s seat, demanding i compensate runestone for the marriage agreement you destroyed and the lady you took from them, i had to give them a show of good faith. i had to reassure them of the longstanding trust between our houses.”

“so you gave her to them, sold her like some slave!”

“i made a political deal!” he attempts to defend himself in both words and on the board. in both, he fails. “one where lord rhoyce gains a bride, i avoid war and my daughter gets to finally take on the duties bestowed upon her at birth.”

“you’re a fucking fool, viserys. you would have been better delivering her to the triarchy. least they would make her death a more swift one. that rhoyce twat’ll have her head on a pike, and her tits and cunt will be hand delivered to you. they’ll slaughter her, as payment for their-” daemon swallows every ill coloured word and expression of his despise that comes to mind at the memory of his bronze bitch, giving no out for his brother to twist this conversation into a matter of his own wrongdoings. “late lady.”

with no more hesitation, the rogue prince moves his queen one last time and delights in watching the white king fall into check.

he knocks the piece over, quietly declaring checkmate.

“brother, please,” the king’s words are as fragile as his health, failing and mute against daemon’s scowling features, which refuse to play nice any longer. “do you think this is what i wanted, for my daughter to be used as a bargaining tool for peace? but there’s no going back, what’s done is done.”

“then undo what is done!”

“how can i when they threaten violence and-”

“you’re the king! who gives a shit what they threaten, they have a dozen men to your thousands. you have dragons! if the threat of fire worked on the men of the vale once, it’ll do so again. so regain your pride and write to that cunt royce. tell him to have your daughter cleaned up and sent back to where she belongs, to find fulfilment in his new lordhood and to drop this notion that he even deserves to gaze upon a targaryen princess, much less stick his shrivelled cock within her. i urge you to send this letter post-haste,” that familiar blade of his sits neatly by the entrance of the chamber, attracting the prince over till he clutches it in his grasp at last, quickly returning dark sister to her rightful spot by his side and discarding the blade he’d stolen from ser criston. he glances back at the king, now risen once more, and twists the doorknob. “and pray, dear brother. pray that it reaches gerold royce before i do.”

with the slam of the door, daemon plunders into the halls of the keep, footsteps heavy and echoing with each one he takes. jaw clenched and hands fisted, he paints the image of a man enraged, sick and fed-up with the games being played.

by the time he reaches his chambers, shoving his way past the sleeping knight at it’s doors, there’s bound to be a flurry of gossiping fools who speak of the prince and his defiling of the king’s commands, but he cares little as he straps himself into leathers and steel, hell-bent on reaching the dragonpit before day breaks and the sun paints the sky alight.

daemon is done sitting idly by, waiting for the king to see reason.

because while at the age of five, naive and easily influenced, daemon targaryen had looked up to his chess-genius of a brother, it was at age five and ten that he realised why his brother kept winning, why pawns and knights and rooks would conveniently move to the places he needed them to be.

he cheated.

#daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen imagine

[zootopiathingz]

Genuine question: Why do you ship Radiobelle? I've seen a lot of people doing it, and I'm curious as to what the appeal is!

The real question is, why do people ship anything? Why do we all see two or sometimes more characters interact with each other and imagine how cool it would be if they both had deep-seated romantic feelings for the other?

Answer: cuz we can!😌

Idk about the rest of you, but I don’t exactly have much control over what I ship and don’t ship😅 I just see the characters together and my brain randomly decides either “yes I want them to make out” or “nooo I don’t really see it”. (I am in no way a pro shipper though cuz no)

But as for Radiobelle specifically, there’s just something about them that my silly fangirl heart can’t resist. While I am fairly new to the HH fandom, I did watch the pilot around the time it came out and a small part of me did ship them back then. But I never really allowed myself to indulge in it and I just wasn’t that into the show anyway so I didn’t bother. Now, after actually watching the episodes and engaging in fandom content, I finally embraced the cringe to the full extent and let myself be consumed by the radio demon and his charming demon belle! :P

Now I’m aware that the majority of people don’t like Radiobelle, or even full-on hate it for multiple reasons. Sure, whatever. You don’t have to like every ship, nor does anyone expect you to! I can understand it’s not for everybody. The main thing that bugs me, though, is when people try to start arguments about why it’ll never be canon and why you shouldn’t ship it. “Charlie is with Vaggie and Alastor is aro/ace!” People ship Alastor with a multitude of other characters and nobody bats an eye,, why is it only when you see him being drawn with Charlie that you lose your shit and get offended about his sexuality being ‘erased’? (That’s a topic for a whole other post tbh). And people can ship Charlie with other people. Hell, they DO! I’ve seen numerous art of her and other characters.

Then there’s also the “Alastor thinks of her as his daughter!” See, I want everybody to actually watch episode 5 again and come back to me on this. No, he fucking does not. The only reason he was saying any of that was to get under Lucifer’s skin. That’s it. That was his whole intention. He doesn’t like Lucifer and wanted to rub it in his face that he has been a lousy father to his daughter, in comparison to all the ways he has helped her, with the hotel and whatever else.

Phew, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way! Onto why Radiobelle has stolen my heart!

I just love their dynamic and it all really started with the pilot. Alastor—this mysterious force of nature who can kill anyone and anything, is capable of unimaginable power and torture—randomly showing up on the doorstep of a hotel to help out. And literally no one else trusts him (reasonably so) but Charlie, the good-hearted soul she is, lets him in. She’s cautious, of course, but she’s giving him the chance to do some good because that’s what her dream is all about!

Now while I do wish they had some more interactions in the actual show, what we have so far is scrumptious✨ Alastor may have been giving an abundance of praise to Charlie to piss off her dad, but I don’t think he was lying. Deep down I’m sure he is enjoying the time they’ve spent together—even if he doesn’t fully realize it. Charlie defends Al’s sadistic behavior to her dad because he was doing it to defend the hotel (and bc he’s a cocky mf lol but it’s endearing to her in a way).

Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on episode 7 bro,, omfg the content!! The way he’s extra touchy with her even after they’ve made their deal. Her being nervous and stressed out but he encourages her anyway and verbally admits that he had faith in her the whole time. Him giving her his microphone—which is likely the main source of his power as shown in episode 8 (where he let her use his mic AGAIN!!!) which just shows how much he actually trusts her,, UGH it’s just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 give me more!!

Now, do I expect Radiobelle to become canon? No. Would it be fucking awesome if it did? Oh absolutely. But I know it won’t, and I don’t care! I’m having the time of my life shipping these two hell-dwelling idiots and I don’t care what anyone says about it!😋

#gotta love the ‘I can fix him’ ‘I can make her worse’ dynamic they got going on #anyway shout out to my fellow radiobelle shippers✌🏻 #we have impeccable taste and we know it #and uh sorry if this rant comes across as me being petty or rude #I really wasnt. I was just stating facts lol #long post #radiobelle #charlastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel ship #charlie morningstar #alastor the radio demon #asks #anon ask #lady luxo asks

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I’m the anon that asked if you write for Tekken 👉🏻👈🏻 I always like the grumpy x sunshine trope, and I was wondering if you can write headcanons for Kazuya with an s/o like that? Very soft, sweet, affectionate, I feel in a way it would also be funny 😆

Idk if this is what you wanted but I have it my best shot. 🦦

Not me back on my Brutus and Pixie agenda (seriously it’s my favourite thing to reference at this point.)

All I’m going to say is; it’s not easy showing kindness to a man who had been so vastly removed from it from a young age, and the only memory he has of experiencing such kindness was from his mother; which in of itself was merely candlelight in comparison to the suffocating darkness.

So needless to say if you keep at it, not showing agitation or anger towards his inability to see your acts of kindness towards him as just that; pure acts of kindness. Then Kazuya will slowly -baby steps mind you, extremely small baby steps- begin to believe it to some extent.

Everyday is an uphill battle but you were willing to fight it forever without ever showing an ounce of fatigue if it meant earning Kazuya’s trust. Something that he one day noticed and will- in his own unique way- show his gratitude for sticking by him for as long as you have.

Let’s hypothetically say he came back injured, you naturally wanted to help him but much like showing affection or acknowledging how he felt towards you, he will have those walls up again faster then you could blink. It’s just natural for him this way to never pay any mind to the ‘weaker’ side to himself and reject any and all notions that could possibly end up in him becoming ‘soft’ and ‘pliable’ for those who might have it out for him.

So imagine the feeling of achievement you’d get the moment Kazuya let’s you tend to his wounds, listening silently as he slowly began to open up to you, even if it was a little bit, it was still something to celebrate for the both of you; especially when going forward into this relationship where you’d gradually bear your entire heart to the other, letting them see the most vulnerable parts of yourselves and silently praying that the other doesn’t destroy you with it in the future…

And imagine how nice it was to be hugged by a pair of strong arms, held against a firm chest by powerful hands and just finding yourself melting into him…smiling softly at the fact that Kazuya wanted to hold you out of his own accord. Feeling protected from any and all harm that could come your way. It was enough to make you want to cry but instead you smiled brightly and told him how utterly proud you were of him for taking the first step, for taking a chance on something he was once so vividly against.

This man looks like he’s never be told that someone was proud of him ever in his life. So hearing someone who had nothing but the most wholesome of intentions with him say it? He’s not going to know how to react, but from the way his grip on you would tighten slightly told you more than enough as you reminded yourself to keep reminding him how proud you were.

Is it a stretch to say that he would be protective? Especially towards the person who had shown him their truest self and shown him how being in love and being loved don’t inherently make you weak or lesser than, boldly proving him -a man dead set in his ways- wrong on several occasions and him not feeling an ounce of anger but instead a weird sense of relief? So Kazuya will want to keep you away from the shadier side of things in the instance that he might not always be there to ward away unwanted attention.

He may not say it aloud but then again why would he when his actions were loud enough for you to understand their intentions, no matter how few and far between they might be but at least you knew that he would stand by you and keep you protected by any means necessary.

He just has a fear of loosing the one good thing in his life because of who he was; For if he were to loose you then everything he originally believed would then become truth, that it would become reality.

The fact that you were both opposites would be made apparent in everything that you did but that’s what made your relationship work when in any other circumstances it probably wouldn’t. However it only made your appreciation of the other stronger than before.

It’s not perfect, not that I’m saying it ever was, but ultimately the hardships are what made you treasure your relationship with the grumpy man even more. You didn’t try to change or ‘fix’ him because that was not your job, you’re not fixer and you knew that as much as he did and instead you -with your unwavering kindness and gentleness- had let him taken his time with getting to a level of comfortability with you where he knew he could relax beneath your touch instead of flinching away.

You soothed his scarred heart whilst also loving it unconditionally without feeling the need to change it to fit your fantasy.

#tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken imagines #tekken imagine #kazuya x reader #kazuya x you #kazuya imagines #kazuya imagine #kazuya Mishima x reader #kazuya Mishima imagines #kazuya Mishima imagine #kazuya Mishima x you

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

Anything But Love Part 2

AN: Hello my loves! First, I’m gonna apologize for disrespecting the sanctity of democracy, I hope you all can forgive me maybe. Love for Duties Sake Part 5 is still 150% coming, I’m just trying to be a good person, and A. Not make it a book. And B. Actually give them some peace for once in their lives (spoiler alert it’s not going well)  SO yeah here's this gem of a story while I work on that, Shuri is once again a brat but maybe just maybe she doesn't actually mean to be a brat? Idk crazy idea. Y’all asked for Y/N to have a little bit of bite to her, I hope I did that lol. Blame two of your favorites on here for this coming out this morning instead of last night-

As always this is dedicated to the lovely @pinkwright, I simply exist to write fake dating for them.

Summary: Being the head of PR for the Udaku family came with its challenges. But staying on top of public perception and answering to elders paled in comparison to your most formidable challenge, dealing with the princess.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, like BREIF mentions of sexual elements. that’s it I think.

Word count: 4,658

Masterlist.  Taglist.  Part 1.

Suggested listening: Bitches Broken Hearts - Billie Ellish 

“You can pretend you don't miss me (me) You can pretend you don't care All you wanna do is kiss me (me) Oh, what a shame I'm not there.”

“And again! One, two, three, four dip! One, two, three, four, turn!”

The feeling of Shuri’s foot coming down on yours had you pulling your hand from hers, a loud “Ow!” spewing from your lips. 

“I wouldn’t have stepped on your foot if you had it in the right place.” Shuri looked down at you smugly as you rubbed your foot. 

“Well maybe if you hadn’t skipped the first step, I wouldn’t be confused as to where we were at.” You glared up at her, wanting nothing more than to shoot up from your position on the floor and wipe that smug look off her face.

“Are you two really not over your issues, seriously? Mama gave you both a week, I thought you would have settled this by now.” T’Challa’s voice, while slightly annoying at this exact moment, was still right. 

Queen Ramonda had given both you and Shuri a week to come to some sort of acceptance of the deal you both agreed to. Banning Shuri from entering her lab and you from your office, she hoped the time away from work would give you both some clarity about the situation, leading to you putting your childish bickering to the side and finally working together again.

While this all sounded good on paper, the time away from your safe spaces seemed to leave the two of you more irritable than before. Shuri’s attitude is on full display and your patience running dangerously low. Luckily, once she noticed this the Queen called in the one favor she had left, hoping maybe she could talk sense into the two of you before it was too late. But until she showed up under the Queen’s strict orders T’Challa was to teach you and Shuri the waltz. 

“The only issue I have is that she cannot follow directions! I am supposed to be leading her in this dance yet every move she makes is contradictory to the one I have made. I step left, and she goes right. I take two steps forward, and she takes two backward. How am I to lead someone as stubborn as Y/N?” Shuri folded her arms over her chest, no longer giving you the satisfaction of looking in your direction once she finished her array of insults. Classy. 

You rose from where you had been sitting checking your foot. Where Shuri may have beaten you in height, you had her in pure intimidation. Shuri was all bark and no bite and the minute you really mouthed off back to her, she faltered. “Maybe if I had a good leader, someone who I trust to lead, maybe then I’d have no problem following them. But when she can’t even remember the order of simple steps to a waltz, how am I supposed to want to follow her mkhuluwe? (brother)” 

T’Challa tried to answer and de-escalate the situation but his sister's fiery attitude stopped him. 

“I find your continual suggesting that I am an unfit leader to be disrespectful Y/N.” Shuri took a step closer to you, looking down at you through the curls that had fallen into her face. “Some would even say what you’re suggesting is treason. Are you committing treason against the Princess?” The tone in her voice was cocky, like a cat playing with her food. What you said was not treason, you knew it, she knew it, T’Challa knew it, and everyone else in the room knew it. But still, she chose to pull rank on you, a subtle reminder that you two were not acting off of an even playing field. Another low blow. 

“You know I almost wish what I said was treason worthy Shuri, I’d gladly take whatever punishment that brings over having to continue this charade with you.” You chuckled softly. “Fifty years of solitary confinement, I think I’ll take my chances.” 

The young Princess’s fists balled and the next smart remark was just about to leave her lips when another voice cut in. One that wasn’t yours, hers, or T’Challa’s. 

“Bast! You both still fight like children!” You and Shuri both whipped around to see Nakia leaning up against the ballroom wall behind you. The sight of her had your feet moving faster than your brain could process, leading you right into Nakia’s arms. She let out a groan when your body connected with hers, squeezing you tightly. “Well hello to you too, usisi omncinci (little sister).” 

“I didn’t know you’d be here so early.” You still hadn’t removed yourself from Nakia’s body as you spoke. 

“Well, clearly she is,” Shuri’s slick remark rang out before Nakia could speak. “Now move, you’re not the only one who has missed her.” 

With reluctance, you peeled your body off of Nakia’s to allow Shuri to hug her. As you watched the two embrace you were brought back to your childhood, Nakia’s family being the other one that you lived with when you weren't in the palace. She had taught you everything you knew about being an adult and your eagerness at her return was no different now than it was when you were younger. 

When Shuri finally finished she stepped back next to you, leaving T’Challa as the only one who hadn’t greeted Nakia yet. 

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he stepped up into his girlfriend's space. Nakia smiled fondly at him, holding her hands out for T’Challa to take. 

“Hi.”

“You did not tell me you were coming back.” T’Challa’s hands rubbed idly at Nakia’s knuckles, memorizing the feeling of her skin under his. These moments between the two of them were rare, Nakia busy with her war dog duties and T’Challa with his kingly responsibilities. 

“Mm, I wasn’t supposed to be back this early but, Queen Mother called.” Nakia took her hand and cupped T’Challa’s cheek, rubbing gently on his soft skin before placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “And, I missed you mtuwam (my person).”  

The sight of the two lovers made you smile and that same smile stayed on your face as you backed away to give them some privacy. Of course however when in the presence of the Princess such a smile can only last for so long. The sight of her staring at you in disgust had you rolling your eyes at her. “What is your problem? Is your heart so cold that you can’t appreciate a couple in love?” 

Shuri let out a dry laugh. “No, I adore my brother and Nakia, she makes him significantly less lame. It is your reaction that I don’t believe.” 

“What? I am a lover of love. A certified lover girl like Drake said. Especially true love like that.” 

“Mhm if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, but that’s not what I have heard.” Shuri dismissed herself from the ballroom, seeing no need to continue the dance lesson now that T’Challa was occupied.

You followed hot on her trail, what the hell had she “heard” about you that could make her of the opinion that you weren't a lover of love. It was blasphemy honestly, defamation of character. 

“Shuri!” You grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She tried to pull out of your grasp, expecting to overpower you easily. What she didn’t account for though was your newfound muscle from training with Ayo, rendering her attempts unsuccessful. 

“Let me go.” She still hadn’t turned to face you, to you this seemed like disrespect, another time Shuri couldn’t even give you the decency to look at you. But internally, Shuri’s heart was beating a mile a minute. She hadn’t even realized how much she missed the feeling of you touching her skin. Holding hands to dance was one thing but the way you held tightly onto her now felt like a security blanket, holding her down to earth. 

“What are you talking about? What did you hear?” 

Shuri tried to pull her arm again to no avail, taking a deep breath, she turned and faced you. “When I tell you, you’ll remove your grabby hands from my wrist, yes?” 

You roll your eyes at her use of the word grabby, this was a tactic you two would use often as kids and she never had a problem with it then. “Yes, if you tell me what you’re talking about, I’ll let you go.” 

The Princess looked you up and down as she debated how to spill this information. “All I’m saying is I find it hard to believe that you are a lover girl when you so clearly have shown that you’re the opposite.” 

That got you to loosen your hold on Shuri’s wrist just enough for her to pull away, her heart finally steadying. But to your surprise, she didn’t leave, rather staying and standing in front of you almost waiting for your questions. 

“Explain what you’re talking about right now!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly under your urgency.

“Adah.” That name was all Shuri gave you as you two stood staring at each other. “Oh don’t play dumb now, you two have been doing this thing since we were teenagers.” 

You gritted your teeth, for a second time today, an Udaku child was right about something. Adah was a year younger than you and Shuri, her grandparents sat on the council so she was frequently in the palace growing up. Shuri never cared too much for Adah, saying that she was too whiny and took up too much of your time. This dislike only increased when you and Adah started casually dating as teenagers. 

While you put the emphasis on casualness, Adah could never do the same; always trying to cling to your side and attach herself to your and Shuri’s plans. This only led to the Princess feeling more confident in her ability to voice her disdain for the young girl, consistently pointing out her shortcomings. When you finally did end things with Adah, she still seemed to pine after you, even going as far as to join the Dora Milaje to maintain proximity. 

“Adah is just a friend Shuri, the same as she was back then.” This earned you a laugh from the Princess. 

“Oh I’m sure she’s just a friend to you, but she doesn't see you the same way and she makes it abundantly clear.” Shuri looked you up and down. “And you don’t seem to have a problem with that, do you?” 

You chose to ignore the second part of Shuri’s statement, instead attacking the first part. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with Shuri?” 

She scoffed at you and attempted to walk away, done with this conversation. But you had grown tired of things always ending on her word, by her command. So you stepped in front of her, blocking her path with your body. When she stepped in another direction you followed suit, leaving her nowhere to go. “Why does it matter who I’m friends with?” 

“Get out of my way.”

“Answer my question.” 

The Princess was left with a decision, attempt to worm her way around you, success rate: twenty-five percent, or answer your question. Reluctantly she chose the ladder. 

“I do not care who you’re friends with Y/N. Truly, I don’t.” She used the closeness of your bodies that you had created to her advantage, leaning over you. “But Adah, she’s not just a friend, is she? Because I remember what it was like to be your friend and I don’t recall it involving sneaking out of your bedroom at three AM every other night.” 

Fuck. 

Your eyes widened at her words and your breath caught in your chest. How did she know about that? Those were isolated incidents. The few times when you had permitted Adah into your bedroom late at night it was just long enough to make you feel something again, before swiftly kicking her out. 

“Oh don’t get quiet on me now Y/N, where's all that energy you just had?” Shuri teased you, cocking her head to the side with a chuckle.

Two options played out in your head at that moment. The first was to stick to what you knew worked with Shuri, logic, and reason. Walk away from the conversation and wait until you were both cooler-headed. The second option was to really give it to Shuri, and remind her why your attitude was just as feared as hers, with the hopes that she’d step off afterward. Two shit options but beggars can’t be choosers. 

“You know what Shuri, first off fuck you. We’re not friends, right? So, who I decide to spend my time with is none of your business.” Your words had Shuri straightening up, no longer towering over you. 

“Second, fuck you again. You ended this, you didn’t wanna be my friend anymore, so yeah maybe I decided to be friends with Adah again. But guess who no longer gets an opinion on it? You.” You had effectively backed the Princess into a wall, her having nowhere to go but to press her back up against it and wait for you to finish. 

“Third and finally fuck you. Fuck your bullshit ass entitled attitude that pushes everyone away that tries to help you. Fuck your inability to not be an asshole for once in your life. Fuck you for not even being able to be a decent non-friend to me Shuri. I mean shit, we didn’t have to be best friends but you don’t have to be such a dick.” 

By the time you finished speaking, you realized you had said way more than you’d originally intended to. Letting some of the anger that you’d held onto from your adolescence spew out on the princess now. You two stared at each other for a moment, not sure what to say after your honest words.

Shuri tried to speak but you stopped her with a raise of your hand. There was nothing left to say here. Backing away from the Princess you ignored her calls and made your way away from her as quickly as you could. 

Once you were clear out of sight Shuri sunk down to the floor, burying her head in her knees. How did she keep doing this? Insulting and pushing you away when all she wanted to do was recreate the relationship you guys used to have. But how could she when clearly she had hurt you so badly? 

Two shadows appeared over Shuri and she looked up to see Nakia and T’Challa, locked arm and arm, staring down at her. The last thing she wanted right now was some lecture from her brother. “What do you want?” 

“We heard everything.” T’Challa rocked on his heels slightly, his nervousness apparent. He wasn’t sure how to go about a situation like this. Being king, that was easy. But being an ubhuti omdalana? (older brother) This was much harder. 

“Okay…” Shuri buried her head back into her knees, her braids shielding her face from view.  

The King looked to Nakia, hoping his girlfriend might have something to say here to help the situation. Instead, the war dog just smiled and squeezed T’Challa’s arm. “I am going to check on Y/N.” She whispered to him quietly. “You got this.” 

T’Challa held tightly to Nakia as she tried to pull away, shooting her a “Do not leave me here.” look, which only made Nakia smile. After a few tugs, she finally got her arm out of T’Challa’s hold and she bent down to speak to Shuri. “Sisi (sister), try to at least listen to what he says hmm?” She rubbed the princess’s shoulder gently, satisfied that she could go when Shuri gave her a small nod. 

When Nakia left T’Challa sat down next to his sister, pulling his knees to his chest to mimic her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.”

“Okay…” The siblings sat in silence for a little bit, T’Challa unsure of what to say. He tried to think what his Baba would do if he were still here or what kind words his mother would offer but he drew blanks. Just as he went to speak Shuri’s head popped up. 

“It is like she wants me to hate her or something.”

“Ingaba uthetha ukuthini? (What do you mean?)” T’Challa turned to look at his little sister confused by her words. 

“Y/N, it’s like she wants me to hate her. Everything she does I’m convinced she only does it to infuriate me.” T’Challa recognized the tone of his sister's voice, it was the same one that developed when she had solved a math problem or fixed a mechanical issue by herself. A tone of finality. 

“And what has she done thus far to make you hate her?” Now that he understood where Shuri’s problem lay, her brother felt much more confident helping her work through it. 

Shuri looked up at her brother as if he was crazy. “What do you mean what has she done to make me hate her? You heard the whole argument right?” 

T’Challa nodded. 

“Then you have heard just the most recent thing she’s done to infuriate me, becoming friends with Adah.” 

“And why can she not be friends with Adah?” T’Challa posed the question simply, raising his eyebrows at the Princess. 

“Because she knows I dislike Adah, she could have chosen any girl in the palace to be friends with and yet she chooses the one she knows I do not like? What kind of a friend does that?” Shuri let out a puff of air as she spoke about your behavior, but she didn’t stop there. 

“I mean really mkhuluwe (brother), do your friends treat you like that?” 

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried to stop his sister from continuing. 

“One moment, I am just saying who gave her the right to be so annoying! Friends are not supposed to be annoying-” 

“Shuri,” T’Challa tried again to interject but was shut down. 

“You came to listen to me talk, yet you keep cutting me off. Like I was saying friends are not supposed to be annoying, petulant, life-sucking-”

T’Challa couldn’t stand it any longer and finally, he fully interrupted her. “Shuri! For Bast's sake listen to me for a moment.” 

Shuri cocked her head back in disbelief, cutting her eyes at him in the process. “Did you just yell at me?” 

The King swallowed, “Yes.” 

Shuri looked him up and down before nodding, impressed at his ability to finally stand up to her. “Go on.” 

“All of this,” He gestured around her body. “Is because you’re upset with Y/N, yes?” 

Shuri faltered for a second, “Not just because of Y/N-”

“Your heart rate increases when you are lying, try again.” 

The Princess gasped, shoving her older brother. “I told you about using your black panther powers on me, it’s weird!” 

T’Challa only laughed. “But I am right, yes? All of this is because you’re mad that Y/N has made friends with someone you do not like.” 

“Yes.” Shuri’s response was quick, almost as if she didn’t wanna agree to what T’Challa had said. 

“But sisi, were you not the one to end the friendship with Y/N in the first place? How can you be mad at the way she has chosen to move on?” T’Challa’s words struck a chord with his sister. “Even if she did deliberately choose Adah to upset you, which we both know our Y/N, and I do not think that is something she would do. Why do you get to treat her poorly because of it?” 

Shuri let out a groan and turned away from her brother, but T’Challa continued. 

“What it sounds like to me, little sister is that you are jealous that Y/N has moved on and has found someone else to spend her time with.”

Shuri sat there processing her brother's words. Jealous? She wasn’t jealous… Right? 

On the other side of the palace, Nakia had finally located you. 

“How did I know I would find you here?” The older woman looked up at you in the trees. Nakia guessed that this tree, the same one you would climb up as a child, is where you would be.

“Not too much has changed hmm.” You offered. 

“Oh but so much has.” Nakia mused with a smile as she started her ascent into the trees. 

“Be careful, your body is not as young as it used to be.” You warned her with a laugh, earning a gentle shove from her once she finally got herself situated. 

“Are you calling me old sisi (sister)?” 

“I am not calling you young.” Your laughter only increased at her shocked expression. 

“I leave for a few months and you start insulting your elders? You really are just like Shuri.” Nakia meant the comment to be funny, and a few years prior it would have been. But now the mention of the princess made the smile slowly fade from your face. 

This of course did not go unnoticed by Nakia, she brushed your shoulder with hers gently. “Talk to me about her.” 

You shook your head, “Nakia, there's nothing to say about her that I haven't already said. You heard it all.” 

“Then tell it to me again. Explain to me how two girls who I watched grow up like sisters, now cannot spend a minute together without fighting.” Nakia’s brown eyes bore into your own. She always had a way about her, this energy that encouraged you to spill what had been weighing on you. And especially up here, high above the palace looking out onto the rest of the Golden City, you felt the urge to open up for once. 

“I don’t know what I did to make her so upset with me.” The words came out of your mouth quietly. “It was like one minute she was my best friend and now she can hardly stand the sight of me. Everything I do is somehow wrong in her eyes.”

“You know that’s not how she really feels Y/N.” Nakia tried to reason with you. 

“As much as you and Mama keep saying that Nakia, I think you’re wrong.” You finally pulled your eyes away from her. “She is all upset that I’ve chosen to spend time with someone else but she was the one who decided she didn’t want to spend any time with me.” 

Nakia tucked a few stray curls behind your ear. “Do you want to know what I think sisi?” 

You made a sound of inquiry, encouraging Nakia to continue. 

“I think she regrets her decision.” 

You whipped your head to face Nakia. “Intoni (What)?” 

“I am being serious, I think Shuri regrets her decision about ending the friendship,” Nakia spoke matter of factly as if she had weighed out all the options in front of her and settled on that one. 

“Yeah, and what about her behavior is saying ‘I want Y/N back as a friend.’ to you?” The question came out more comical than you intended but you couldn’t help it, the idea Nakia was pushing was laughable. 

“You and I both know Shuri, so you and I both know the last thing she can do is admit when she’s wrong. Think back to when we were kids and she didn’t want to admit that it was her miscalculations that made the hair dye ‘semi permanent’ not ‘washable’ like she insisted it was.” The memory Nakia brought up had you laughing. 

You and Shuri couldn’t have been but thirteen when she insisted that her new project was a hundred percent safe and a hundred percent NOT permanent. That of course led to you both having matching bright purple streaks in your hair for two months. 

Seeing your smile again brought Nakia some peace, she hadn’t lost you to your mind's overthinking yet. “Shuri is just hard-headed. She does not know how to say she wants you back in her life, so she doubles down on her stance.” 

You pondered Nakia’s words, it was true that Shuri did seem to double down on her dislike of you in the past three weeks. Almost as if being in increased proximity to you was making her miss you and lash out in response. 

“Promise me something?” Nakia wrapped her arm around your shoulder bringing you into her. 

“I can’t promise something if I do not know what it is Nakia. What if you wanted me to promise that I’ll jump from this spot right now? That’s not a promise I would make.” You were only rambling to annoy Nakia at this point and she knew it. She brought her other hand to flick your forehead. 

“Hush. Just promise me that you won’t shut Shuri out completely?” The older woman looked down at you awaiting your answer. “I know this is hard for you, having to be with her constantly when she isn’t the Shuri we know. But, there will come a time when she is again and I want you two to be able to rebuild when that comes.” 

You inhaled deeply debating if this was something you could promise to. 

“I’m not asking for you to lay down and let her insult you, Shuri needs someone to keep her in check too.” That got a chuckle out of you. The Princess needed more than just someone to keep her in check, she needed a full attitude adjustment. “But I am just saying, I think the more time you two spend together the more she’ll come back around.” There was a glint in Nakia’s eyes when she spoke that you didn’t recognize. 

“Okay.” You agreed quietly. 

“Okay?” Nakia squeezed you tight. “I will take an okay, I was not even sure if you were going to let me get this far!” 

The two of you both laughed in unison, knowing that it was a rare occasion when you actually took someone's advice. Your laughter was interrupted by the chirp of Nakia’s kimoyo beads alerting her that she had an incoming call. 

“Oh it's Challa, let us see what he wants.” The call went through and a holographic picture of the prince popped out of the beads. “Molo (Hello), sthandwa sami (my love). Everything is well I assume?” 

T’Challa grinned back at Nakia. “Ewe, just like you said it would.” The two just gazed at each other through the phone for a moment before the King cleared his throat. “I was um calling to see if you’d be joining us for dinner tonight?” 

“Of course, I would not miss it for the world.” Nakia’s reply came quick and you could have sworn T’Challa’s smile doubled in size. 

The soft sound of Shuri’s voice interrupted the moment. “Is Y/N with you?” 

Nakia hesitated a moment, “Yes, she is.” 

“Is she uh- coming with us to dinner?” Shuri herself seemed unsure if she actually wanted to ask the question. Peeking out from behind her brother's shoulder, showing that they were both still sitting on the floor. 

Nakia looked over at you, trying to judge your body language. When she didn’t sense anything that seemed like you were against the idea she finally spoke. “Ewe, she will be joining us for dinner.” 

Shuri sat up from her slouched position, her tone sounding more joyus. “Really? So it will be me, you, T’Challa, Mother, and Y/N. Good.” When she finished speaking she felt the eyes of T’Challa and Nakia on her, now both bearing sickeningly wide smiles. Why were they looking at her like that? As if her response was something they could have predicted. It made the princess check her attitude, returning back to her unbothered demeanor. “It is good Y/N will be joining us, for work and everything.”

“Mhm, I think so too.” T’Challa followed up his sister, alleviating some of the attention from her to himself. “Just like old times.”

Taglist:  @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright @bratydoll @blackqueengold @iheartsolo @cafehyunji @abenomeiiii @naomis-daydream @ilroachsworld @locoforshuri

#shuri black panther #shuri udaku x reader #shuri of wakanda #shuri x y/n #shuri udaku #shuri fanfiction #shuri x reader #shuri x you #shuri x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #wlw blog #WLW #wlw ship #wlw fanfic #wlw love #black author

[pepsiiwho]

Okay. Finished a checks watch 10 hour play session, without breaks no stopping.

General thoughts down below. No explicit spoilers but tone/ personality reads ahead. Long post :D feel free to respond or whatever.

One of the first things that I just wanna get out the way is, personally, the cast in this game is leagues better than the first game. And that isn’t like a “ah they’re all hotter!” (They are, don’t misconstrue what I’m saying, they very much are hotter then the first game’s cast) but the general vibe in cross roads is significantly more intresting. Which is very funny considering the set up, on paper, is remarkably similar. Hard ass, stuck up head of the place, shade mentor, emo bitch who hates you and wants to fuck you, emo boy who wants to fuck you, nebulous little thing that doesn’t serve a purpose but allows for comedic relief, hypnos, skelly— the works.

Yet the energy is wildly different. Idk I’m not like a zagreus dick rider or anything he’s cool but you really can feel how lonely the house of hades was in comparison to cross roads camp, a place not even half its size. The affection for Mel is like bursting out the seems of everyone around her (save Nem) and it goes past duty or obligation to the cause. It really feels like they all love each other dearly. I think that was so missing in the house of hades, intentionally or otherwise, but it felt so… cold? I always knew hypnos got that treatment because I’m crazy, but looking back that’s how everyone acting with zag too. They just talked to him. lol.

Ahhh to this point but a little bit to the left— hectate and Mel’s everything is incredibly compelling. Mel clearly and obviously seeing her as a mother figure, the only one she’s ever known and loving her deeply for it and frankly fighting in this war partly out of duty but more for her family she DOES have now, and then Hectate who knew Mel’s family and knew what they went through and refuses to take the place of “mother” when Mel has a mother, even if she isn’t here right now. But instead of detaching and making sure no real connection is made she’s so kind. She’s so supportive and loving and sweet and you can tell she cares about Mel so much. Zag’s mom came home and like, never gave off the vibe she cared even half as much. There’s a few moments when Mel tries to convey this love and this almost… mm… this idea that she doesn’t … need? A mom because she has one (hectate) and the witch shuts it down soooo quickly and Mel is always so dejected and it hurts but it’s sooo good. God. I want more of that. For the whole game. Please

Moros is a fucking delight. Like absolutely delightful. He’s sweet and polite and unassuming and kinda just sorry for taking up space but in the dignified way. I love everything about him. I am writing this checks watch May 6th, 2024 and at this point he is lovely. Assuming he doesn’t like, back hand hypnos he’s top 5 easy.

Nemesis is… unfortunately funny and charming. I hate emos I hate the bitchy dark thing I hated Meg for the same reason. This character shouldn’t work for me…. But it does. She’s the worst. I routinely cursed her out when she came on my screen. And yet. I think where Nem succeeds where Meg (and than) failed, is that nem genuinely is like, an asshole. And that’s endearing. She insults Mel and undermines her and talks down to her and clearly they have crazy beef. Meg and than just felt sooo put on with their back and forth with zag and it got old fast. Nem is a delight. If she doesn’t like, back hand hypnos she’s staying in my good graces.

Odess… has the least for me to say honestly. He’s sexy. Not much more than that. I adore how smitten he is with Mel, he clearly adores her.

Hypnos. Hand waves. No need to rehash that. Don’t touch me.

As for the oylmpus gods, they’re all as amazing as before. Apollo is my favorite, obviously, and he isn’t how I expected but he’s like just as wonderful in the opposite direction. This is the wrong way but it’s still took us to a great place. I’m content.

The goddess of fire is broken as hell as a boon also she’s a delight. Adore her. Same for the god of forges. Everyone is wonderful. I need more gods tho the current batch is amazing but I need ares and Athena yaknow everyone else. Idk if that’s an “add to the game later” thing or a “pepsi needs to play more of the game” thing. Either way I’m excited.

Story isn’t fully clear yet, as for what happened, it’s all just the stuff in the trailers tbh so nothing new there. All and all is having a fucking blast. I didn’t mention everyone I saw and enjoyed or didn’t because I’m tired sleepy but I have no one I don’t like RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW everyone is a delight.

Fic soon…

WAIT I DIDNT EVEN SAY: MEL IS THR BEST. 3

EVERYTHING AVOUT HER IS AMAZING!! Im gonna give her a separate post tmw i adore her down BAD

#the funnies #hades 2 #spoils #hades melinoe #hades hecate

[roobylavender]

the depiction of bruce's rich trust fund kid image is really interesting to contend with over time bc i feel like at least pre-no man's land it was more of an amorphous idea where everyone knew who he was peripherally bc of his parents' murder but other than that bruce wayne wasn't necessarily anyone of much importance. he existed and the manor loomed over the city from its own quiet corner but no one was realistically discussing so and so wayne industry to make small talk in the every day bc unless they had a job with him he wasn't relevant to them. so the post-no man's land image that progressively pandered to this idea of him as a larger than life millionaire that permeates every conversation in the city to the point his children are like little celebrities has never managed to click with me. like it feels nonsensical. granted i understand the events of murderer and fugitive coupled with the testimony he gave during no man's land may really have pushed him to the forefront but what i would imagine to be only a temporary one. like what are the people of gotham going to do. at best the events of those books would evolve into mythic lore but the world would continue to turn and people would move on and certainly none of bruce's children would be relevant to any of it. so why the need to push them as microcelebrities. why the need to get them involve in his industrial endeavors when we already know bruce didn't bother to maintain much involvement in them anyway aside from assuring that all of his shares were distributed to more worthwhile causes. the development of the batman mythos alongside the military-industrial complex can contribute to this conversation but at the root i'm not sure what treating bruce's children like anything other than normal children in a civilian context really merits. maybe it's the new york setting and social strata structure that i'm unfamiliar with but at least from my own experience i can't say that children of rich people in business are that isolated from normal public school life. i went to school with a kid whose family has their own bank with multiple endorsed branches across the city (when i say city i mean a major us metropolitan city). maybe that's lesser in comparison but the point is that their kid was still normal and went to school with the rest of us. i didn't know him long enough to learn where his politics developed but the fact that he came from a entrepreneurial family didn't magically whisk him away from the ordinary life that people in at least the general middle class lived. it didn't come up more than once or twice what his family did. so why the contrasting need to attach bruce's social legacy to his children when there is little chance he has one that would actually matter to other children their age? what would they even do with someone being bruce wayne's adopted kid? make a joke or two about how he never comes out of the manor? idk. i'm rambling here but idgi like what's so hard about bruce's kids just.. going to school and that being it

#to be deleted

[rzyraffek]

I made one cute post about slashers(ghostface and yautja) finding random child in forest. Its still in my head so imma do part 2. Its pure platonic made to be cute and funny😊. (By kid i mean she can talk walk normaly already ect)

Request open

Yaujta with human child

Yall this is part 2 but I know that not everyone seen part 1 so basicly what u missed: he finds kid in forest, looks for her perents, turns out they are bab people, he temporary takes kid to his ship...

Yeaaah Temporary, thats what he thought, he rly hoped to find some good place for her but He kinda failed? Lol

He will be grumpy, well no suprise! He didnt plan having random alien kid in his ship! But he cant Just leave her too

He has No clue about perentship so he will probably fail miseribly (trying to feed kid with raw food or trying to train her isnt top tier parent stuff)

But he tires okay! He may stalk some acuall human families to see how bebis work (misspelling bebi is my job)

Wait till he finds out that humans in fact dont train their kids in hunting/killing

Duble points in cutness if kid loves aliens! Like yknow every kid has phases dinosaurs/ponies/aliens/dolls idk what else its been 11years since i was kid idk what kids do this days (I was dinosaur kid myself)

I can imagine kid being like: 🤯alien dad😊 while hes like: 👽we woo *alien noises*👽

No but He will melt if kid calls him alien dad/ space dad/ just dad. He will be suprisingly very happy and proud

Okay okay he wont train his kid🙄 but dont make him cook pls😩. As long as yall are on earth He will steal some food(he is the reason why take out food you ordered 2hours ago never came)

"How are bebis made?" "uh eh they hatch from eggs?(has No clue how to human)"

Kid is very shmol (in comparison) and the ship is verrry big. Kid gets lost a lot. Yautja panics a lot. wheWHERE IS SHE I- EE NOT AGAIN

They love playing hide and seek, tag is cool too but He never knows if he should let kid win or make them loose in 0.23 seconds

He brings her a lot of stuff, mostly paper crayons, toys(dino plushies pls), clothes ofc, stickers. He will kinda love if she draws him or put stickers on his armor. I mean she shoudlnt be in armory and she is banned from going there due to sharp objects but awwwwe cute stickers on his armor

Mostly He is too busy to multi-task (taking care of kid while doing other stuff is difficult) so he just lets kid vibe on his lap or around him overall.

Yautja is very good in learning kid how to deal with emotions (both positive and negative) and overall respect, self defence ect

When kid grows up(teenager) he is doing his best to support her and show empathy (and yautjas arent know for being very emphatic) but please on love of God do not be mean to him he will be heartbroken. As the kid grows he will kinda try to train them with sertain weapons of just simple self-defence. Its not like kid will ever be in danger but its more like dad trying to show his favorite hobbie to his kid in hope that the kid will like it too

Funfact out of context! I liked yautjas before i saw any movies and I thought they had tails :( u can imagine my disapointment

#yautija #yautja x reader #yautja #alien vs predator #slasher headcanons #slashers #slasher x reader

[1moreff-creator]

Happy Birthday Nico Hakobyan!

Meow meow! (Our favorite cat person's birthday has arrived!)

Mrow. (As always, small character analysis + fun facts + songs!)

CW Transphobia, bullying, blackmail, death threats, murder attempt

-Nico is the Ultimate Pet Therapist! This is because, as they've explicitly stated, they like interacting with animals more than humans. They feel as though there are many unwritten rules of human conversation they don't fully understand, while animals are a lot simpler by comparison. Mood.

-Their secret may also play into why they prefer interaction with animals. It was "No one accepted you for your identity. You were constantly mocked by your family, your peers, and everyone else." Basically, people made fun of them because they're non-binary, to the point apparently they threw rocks and mud at them :(

-Speaking of secrets, the quote on Mai's page associated to them is "Everyone confided in her." Presumably they came out to Mai out of their own will, instead of being essentially outed by David (which is one of the many morally wrong things with David's whole "sharing secrets" operation, but this ain't about him).

-And speaking of secret quotes, the one on Nico's page's source code is "Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?" A bit vague, and one which will probably only make sense with future context. Although, it may actually be referencing something we already saw.

-Time to talk about The Gym Incident.

-Ace got Nico's secret at the start of CH2, and because of his own set of issues, he decided to use this power over Nico to bully them relentlessly. Now, Nico also got Ace's secret, but for one reason or another never brought it up. Possibly because they had a "better" idea for how to stop the bullying: in the heat of the moment, Nico threatened to kill Ace. I mean, killing the guy is a lot simpler than the blackmail equivalent of mutually assured destruction, and we know how Nico feels about complicated social rules and norms.

-Thankfully Hu stepped in before things escalated further, although her method might have been, uh, flawed. Giving her friend the benefit of the doubt, she blamed Ace for everything and slapped him. Which, yes, Ace was horrible to Nico. But the death threat should probably be addressed, shouldn't it? Or should they "not be forced to apologize for someone else's mistake?"

-One thing led to another, and Nico tried to kill Ace in the gym.

-To be fair, the whole situation is still surrounded in speculation, but they have admitted to it. To be clear, I don't actually think this is the situation their secret quote refers to, since they did say "I shouldn't have done that" in the trial, so they presumably feel enough remorse to feel like maybe they should apologize, even if Ace is far from blameless. Or maybe I'm wrong and this is the situation the quote refers to, who knows.

-Additionally, they never denied stealing Rose's turpentine to pull this off, so it's very possible they did.

-Oh, yeah! Nico and Rose and friends :D (or at least they were before the turpentine thing). They shared an FTE, which only had a 0,4% chance of happening apparently :O

-It's a very sweet one, where they vibe for a few minutes without talking, then call each other cats, and talk about their issues with communicating their feelings. It's revealed Nico has a pet cat named Tractor (because he meows very loudly), which is pretty old, and that they miss other cats they knew before the killing game. Also, when Rose brings up she's scared of what she knows because of her memory, Nico drops this while thinking of the killing game:

Nico [thought]: Everyone here probably is afraid of themselves and what they might end up doing.

Foreshadowing is a narrative device-

-Their numeral in the the David MV is VIII (8), which is "even if I try to think, IDK!!!". Explained at 1:58:22 in this video, though it's not too complex.

-According to Color Theory they get light blue, with the words "cry, cry, idk!!!" I don't think I need to explain why this applies to Nico, who might actually have more crying sprites than the rest of the cast combined (I don't think that's true, but you get the idea). Mood.

-Their birthday, December 19th, lands on National Hard Candy Day, National Harry (yes the name) Day, National Oatmeal Muffin Day, and National Emo Day, among others. At this point I'm no longer surprised by these things.

Fun facts!

-They like cat-themed things and dislike bathtubs. Cat behavior.

-Like most of the cast, they're American, right-handed, their sexuality is unconfirmed and their hair color is natural.

-They don't have a favorite color, as they are not interested in such things, but their least favorite is white. They find it unsettling.

-Nico cuts their own hair, as stated in their FTE.

-Their favorite ice cream flavor is "the flavor." No elaboration. Mood.

-They smell like a kitty-cat.

-Their favorite food is unprocessed and natural food.

Songs!

(I was really tempted to give them some of Muu's songs from Milgram, but whether or not they work depends on what their secret quote actually means so :p)

+The Chattering Lack of Common Sense by Ghost & Pals

+Scapeg∞at by Ghost & Pals

+God-ish by PinnochioP

+Karma by CreepP, CircusP

+Nobody Makes Sense by PinnochioP

+Monster by KIRA (listen evil Nico lives rent free in my head ok?)

+The Spider and the Kitsune-Like Lion by MASA Works Design (So about the evil Nico thing-)

+And Happy Birthday! Sung by kitties of course.

(Wow I did not have a lot for them rip)

#drdt #nico hakobyan #character birthday #this one is probably too short T_T #sorry nico

[andreaphobia]

P5R Pilgrimage: I ❤️ Akechi Goro

Finding out the jazz club really exists was the highlight of this trip :)

As usual, more pics and screenshot comparisons under the cut!

First, a quick detour to talk about Penguin Sniper...

There’s actually a number of darts bars in Kichijoji, but I didn’t manage to find any that gave me Penguin Sniper vibes (do message me if you know of one, though!). In the first place, I’d always wondered why a bunch of high schoolers were allowed into a darts bar at all -- you’d expect it to have an older clientele and probably serve alcohol, fr’instance.

Then, after scrolling around the map for a bit, I noticed there’s actually a ROUND1 on the Kichijoji SUNROAD main strip. ROUND1 is an amusement store chain, kind of like an arcade that offers activities like bowling, karaoke, billiards, and darts. Since it’s an amusement center, even elementary schoolers are allowed, though I think there’s some kind of curfew for kids.

So in this particular ROUND1, the darts machines and pool tables are on the same floor...

The layout of the room is pretty close, I’d say, although the RL “bar” is actually a cashier, not a place to eat. The machines in front of the bar let you sign up for play sessions.

I thought about playing a game of darts but decided against it. x) Next time I’ll bring a friend!

Fun note: some of the dart machines make the exact same sound effects that are used in the minigame in P5R. I had a mild out of body experience hearing them go beep boop IRL xd

Anyway back to the jazz bar. XD Even the stairs down to the bar are reproduced faithfully.

The lunch menu, for interest! (I had a lunch set of an anchovy and olive tomato sauce spaghetti with a latte au lait, a slice of cheesecake, and a lime soda. Yeah ok I pigged out. I blame Akechi)

I got lucky, arriving about half an hour before the first show was scheduled, so the place was pretty empty and I got a seat at the bar. The cover charge was 1500 yen; I stayed and watched for an hour. :D

Satou Tatsuya on sax and Michishita Kazuhiko on guitar -- hopefully I didn’t butcher the romanization of their names!

The seats depicted in the game give the best view of the live performances, and are reservation only...although for reasons of needing to face the in-game camera, you will notice that they are looking at a wall instead of the actual performance. XD

(Also, in my head this means that Akechi reserved seats for them on their date there, ahead of time. It’s how it works in real life, so it must be true!)

I took a couple of photos after customers cleared out between shows. You can see the grand piano as well as the raised seated area behind the stage, and the additional restaurant seating on the right -- there’s stairs leading both up and down to more tables.

Just a close-up of the “stage”.

A funny aside that has little to do with Akechi -- while I was sitting there enjoying my food and the music, I noticed that several other customers had with them what looked an AWFUL lot like a single American dollar. Obviously the bar is in Japan so I was wondering wtf was going on; genuinely thought I was losing my mind. Or maybe it was like some kind of secret code that I wasn’t aware of...???? IDK, I was spiraling lmao

It turns out it’s actually your check. (A dollar “bill,” I suppose.............)

Even with the cover charge, the bill came to like $30. Pretty worth for the semi-religious experience of watching a jazz performance at Akechi’s favorite place.

Ending things off with an evening shot of the place lit up :)

That’s it!

 I’ve actually got more photos and videos from a couple of other places like Akihabara and the cafe that possibly inspired Leblanc, but...I’m getting tired of doing these xd So this may or may not be the last one, at least for now!

Hope y’all enjoyed the posts :D

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #akechi goro #shuake #akeshu #p5 pilgrimage #my stuff

[dangerously-human]

Still fighting for my life with tuition benefit stuff, in case anyone was wondering. I would like to submit my request for this semester, but we're still duking it out over last semester because of a problem from over a year ago and I don't want to swing at two hornet nests at once, so. Took every single dollar out of my savings account to pay tuition for this semester and am just praying I can get reimbursed before another rent check needs to go out (and Lord willing, my car won't need massive repairs at inspection this year). I'm doing an actual research study for my mixed methods class this semester, and the professor keeps saying she's fine with giving us an incomplete so we have another year to wrap it up in order to actually get something meaningful out of it. I finally talked to her last night to explain that I cannot afford to take another incomplete and ask how I could do a legitimate study on such a condensed timeline. Thankfully she was understanding and came up with an idea I think will work, since it involves basically just doing the quantitative portion under an existing protocol at work and a qualitative portion that doesn't count as human subjects research, so I don't have to deal with an IRB pissing contest between institutions, nor the debatable ethics of collecting data without compensating people for their time, given that it's unfunded research (and I really can't afford to pay people out of pocket when I'm already paying through the nose to be in this class in the first place). I'm still reworking my research plan, but I do feel a lot better about this in comparison to my plan as of last week, which would have required either submitting to both IRBs (and my work IRB is notorious for having different standards than most, and they/the data lawyers that often end up getting involved move slowly in this kind of situation) or submitting twice to my university IRB, once per phase.

Anyway, dealing with all of this today had me looking at what I really have left to do before I graduate. I'm halfway through the program now, though it feels like I've done way more. After I'm done with this class, which meets my advanced methods requirement (although round 2 of statistics probably did too), I have to eventually go back and take the foundations of the program course that was a scheduling conflict my first semester and somehow hasn't been offered since; another research apprenticeship (I'll probably write another manuscript, ideally one that's already been in progress for a bit at work - if I can get a loan, maybe I can do that this summer with my brief report I'm first authoring); plus two electives, which I was hoping to concentrate on measure design but would also happily do more advanced statistics courses if I'm allowed to take them through the school of psychology (I've tapped out the school of ed on that score). I guess I should ask if I'm allowed to say my job counts as an internship, which from the course catalog it looks like it should, but idk. Theoretically that puts me graduating... fall '25? Maybe? I could go so much faster if it weren't for the financial aspect. I do have to meet with an advisor at some point, but I still don't have one at the moment (again), which really seems like a problem for future me to figure out. But future me before May, because I think I'm still recorded as supposed to graduate this semester, even though it's been clear from the beginning that I was not a full-time student. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They really do make this grad school thing as complicated as possible, don't they?

#personal #grad life gazette

[the-meat-machine]

Im confused about Cherub anatomy

I thought it was kind of odd that they have gender? Like you could assume that they just choose one because they're trying to project an identity on the same body which sorta gives an indication that the body lacks male or female traits for this reasoning to make sense. BUT, if we look at Caliborns/Calliopes mother and father theres some clear sexual dimorphism. It makes me wonder how their bodies even get that way? I ended up theorizing that they may metamorphosize to achieve these differences. My theory 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 hold some weight, ex: in Caliborns Masterpiece we can hear that his voice is deep and snarly. Now, we haven't heard Calliopes voice to make a fair comparison after all, she could also possibly sound just like that. So maybe this isn't the strongest example but when Cherubs sleep and when the other personality takes over, the body does change. From the eyecolor, tongue color, cheek color, and blood color, as for body figure it's unclear if that changes when waking up. If we want to count how Caliborn and Calliope are drawn in Act 7, in the opening you can see Calliope has a curved figure and breasts while Caliborn has a wider shoulders, and a flat chest . But then again, Calliope is drawn differently multiple times throughout the act 7 flash so maybe not much weight either. The strongest basis i have for this is probably just how their mom and dad look. In conclusion: either their body fully transitions into the other gender when one of the personalities wakes up then swaps into the other gender when sleeping for the other personality to take over the body with their traits included OR the body has both male and female traits at all times and are stuck there until the one the personalities wins the body and the loser personality bodily traits disappear from the body so the winners traits take over. But this could also not hold weight since Caliborn apparently didn't know what boobs were when talking with Jane. But yet again Calliopes drawings featured boobs so idk. Feel free too tell me everything i got wrong not even i know what the fuck im talking about I've been listening to karkalicious for like 6 hours today (newer version)

So I came into this ask fully intending for my answer to be "cherub sexes make no sense, just throw them out". But then as I was writing out why they make no sense, I accidentally came up with an explanation that makes them (sort of) make sense. Whoops. I'm going to post that as its own separate thing, 'cause it got long, and I probably should edit it to include a clearer explanation of isogamy, ha ha… ha.

But anyway, that aside, some of the details you brought up still don't really make sense - especially alt!Calliope's appearance in Act 7. Because the thing is, alt!Calliope shouldn't look like an adult cherub at all. Even if she predominated "correctly", she still died young, before she could fully mature. If she was truly fully grown, she would have wings, but she doesn't. And during the conversation where she and alpha Calliope meet, the two of them appear to have the same height and build.

The simplest explanation for her Act 7 appearance is that it's just art weirdness. But if we wanted to come up with an in-universe explanation, two possible ones come to mind:

She's a ghost. Ghosts are shown to be able to change their appearances, either consciously or subconsciously. So she's given herself a more adult body that matches her adult mind.

She lived long enough after predomination for her body to partially, but not completely, mature. Thus, she has a somewhat adult-like body, but doesn't have wings and doesn't look as large as the adult female cherub we see depicted elsewhere (because even the females are pretty darn ripped). In this case, it's during the conversation with alpha Calliope that she's altering her appearance, perhaps choosing to make herself look younger to put Calliope and/or Jade at ease.

As for Caliborn seeming to have broader shoulders in Act 7 than Calliope does, we could say that maybe it's just that Caliborn has more muscle mass there by virtue of being more physically active.

I do like to imagine (when I accept that cherubs have biological "sexes" at all) that young cherubs have undifferentiated bodies, and they only develop into "male" or "female" forms after predomination. This fits in with what Aranea says about how the only way to tell the two young cherubs apart is by the color of their cheeks (though as you note, there are a few other differences too).

But that's still kind of complicated, because what makes one of the personalities definitively "male" and the other definitively "female" when their bodies are identical? My best theory is that there's some sort of hormone or something in their blood that differs between juvenile males and females, since the blood seems to be the main thing that physically changes when they swap bodies.

As for Caliborn not understanding what boobs are while Calliope does... that's probably just because Calliope actually pays attention to humans, whereas Caliborn is willfully ignorant about them.

(p.s. I didn't notice until this ask that alt!Calliope appears to have boobs in Act 7. I always assumed cherubs didn't have them, since during Aranea's explanation, the art is ambiguous enough that you could interpret the female as being flat-chested. But no: act 7 says cherub boobs. Argh. Why. I am rejecting this from my personal headcanon and assuming that it was just some weird folds in alt!Calliope's robes that made her look like she had boobs.)

#homestuck cherubs #meatmeta

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

HELLO - BEFORE YOU READ THIS ASK IDK IF YOUR ENG ONLY SO DELETE THE ASK IF YOU DON'T WANT FUTURE EVENT SPOILERS BUT IF YOU'RE CAUGHT UP WITH JP SERVER EVENTS/DON'T MIND THEN! THAT'S AWESOME! SORRY FOR THE BRAINROT!

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR MONSTER AU ('tis the one who left copious tags on your humans is weird thing starring cater, call me fluff) AND I FIGURED ID SEND IN AN ASK BECAUSE. I LOVE YOUR AU. AND YOUR BRAIN IS AMAZING.

Anywho

I'm thinking about some of the events like the Scalding sands event (or even the Harveston event) where some of the students go out away from the college and stuff - specifically the Scalding sands one because that's the one I know most about

But, like, Jamil being EVEN MORE STRESSED! Because! Not only does he have to keep an eye on Kalim, and some other classmates, but he was worried about Malleus getting into a bind... And having to bring along a HUMAN?! He'd be returning to NRC with a headache for sure lmao

Anyways I just wanted to share the fact that that was on my mind and see what you thought of it lol

- Fluff

I appreciate the spoiler warning, but while I do play the English version of the game, I am very much caught up in all the Japan server events and the shenanigans that have happened! :D Feel free to scream all the brainrot ideas at me! ÒwÓ

Thank you so much, Fluff anon~! (Though I know who you are~ >w>) It makes me so happy knowing that so many people love this AU so much, I can’t even begin to thank you all for all the love and support! QvQ

Ahem! Now then, on to the chaotic musings~ UvU

You actually touched up on a very good point: Twisted Wonderland’s events! Now, we know in the normal game that Yuu tends to get dragged into the thick of each event’s shenanigans in some way, shape, or form. However, in the Monster AU, the stakes and risks are much higher being the only human around whether they’re normal Yuu or mini!Yuu.

Halloween was even more of a nightmare for Yuu and the staff once the Magicam monsters began terrorizing both versions to post to their accounts, with several being arrested and charged by the school and research institutions for “threatening a critically endangered species” and stressing them out unnecessarily (serves them right though when they broke into Ramshackle like in the game. >.>) When it came to mini!Yuu though...let’s just say that Crowley and the rest of the school showed those Magicam monsters that it was unwise to make a scared toddler cry. Say goodbye to any social clout they had online or in real life once Mom Vil is through with them, let alone once big brothers Ortho and Idia upload crystal clear videos of their selfish and cruel disregard for the child’s comfort! >:V

Both Yuu’s are going to be very well protected and cared for once all is said and done, and they're going to get so many treats! I did, however, get a very interesting ask involving Yuu and the Halloween event, so I’m gonna play around with that idea as a scenario of sorts, as it sounds fun being “Home Alone” if you catch my drift~ >w>

Anyway, ghost Marriage, Beans Day, Fairy Gala, Harveston’s Kelkkarotu, and even the second half of the Halloween event? Yup, each one winds up being twice as chaotic than the original as it is definitely going to be hard to ignore a human walking around. Harveston will likely be the least stressful by comparison, as I’d imagine the village would be warm and welcoming to both Yuu’s as they celebrate the event together!

The Scalding Sands’ Al’ab Nariya (or “fireworks”) event, however, is going to be three times as difficult to the point it’s seriously considered that they get a bodyguard for extra security. Think Kalim’s family gets targeted a lot? Imagine a lone human in a place where thieves and criminals may be lurking in the shadows looking for a fortune! So Jamil having to worry about Malleus and Yuu? If he wasn’t stressed before, he certainly is now!

Mini!Yuu though has a much easier solution: a child harness and a carrier! The carrier would be one that can easily be swapped and worn by anyone of the group (minus Grim of course). They’ll be extra vigilant though, but rest assured they will be the safest child in Twisted Wonderland! (Also, can you imagine Malleus carrying a tiny human in a carrier on his chest or back? Adorable!)

Jamil is more than likely going to get a stress headache afterwards until they get back to school, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have fun in the end. UvU

So yeah, any ideas for chaos or just fluff or silliness, send them my way and I shall see what I can come up with! ÒvÓ

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #twisted wonderland events #twst events #fluff anon #faun speaks

[queenharumiura]

It's just me screaming about the primaniac perfume that came in. Ignore me.

Ignore the fact that I can never seem to get the lids back on properly where it isn't slanted. ANYWAYS!

IT CAME IN!!!! This is the Gokudera perfume where reviews have stated it smells like smoke and hospital. After reading that, you know my ass had to buy it -- for science.

In comparison to the TYL Hibari perfume, you REALLY smell the musk in this one. I think I can somewhat understand the 'smoke' smell that people were referencing. It's definitely not cigarette smoke, but it doesn't have that charred smell from a burning fire either.

To me, it has more of a subtle smell that you may get from the ashes of say-- incense sticks being burnt? Perhaps because perfumes are alcohol based, I can pick up on something that smells a bit antiseptic, which could be where the 'hospital' smell is coming from that reviews talked about.

The top notes are lemon, orange, and bergamot, which are all citrus smells, and I do smell it, I think. There is a quick tart/sweet kind of smell and then you smell the secondary notes which are floral, which gives it a more pleasant and soft scent. I think the first notes being citrus gives it a harsh kick at first which then gives way to the softer notes of the florals. It say last notes be musk and i'm like bruh--- it's mostly musk what you mean. LOLOL

The last notes are Amber, Sandalwood, Patchouly, and Vanilla and I might smell the sandalwood, not sure about the rest.

I think the reviews also said that it has a masculine and tough kind of smell to it. Harsh, but still a nice smell. It is very fitting for Gokudera, and I agree.

-

I'm too lazy to look for the previous post, but let's go over Hibari again using pictures I took last time.

As noted, this one has wayyy less musk than Gokudera's lololol. It's definitely more on the subtle side. I find it kinda funny because it's almost like Gokudera wants to assault your nose and then be calm. (Eye of the storm? NAY nose of the storm in this case). Hibari's is very soft and subtle.

The reviews be like: it smells of Japan. These are Japanese reviews, by the way. One said that it smells of high quality joss-sticks, and I can definitely pick up what they're talking about. It has a very similar smokey kind of smell to Gokudera's, but it's a lot subtler. It's very soft. To me, it gives me the vibe of smelling clean, and fresh air of an open field. Just- freedom.

Top notes are Lime, Mandarin, Eucalyptus, Pear. I def pick up the eucalyptus and I think pear. There is the most subtle sweetness to the scent, but it's also got a spicey kick to the scent as well. Which is likely coming from the middle notes: Cedar Leaf, Nutmeg, Clove, Lily, Heliotrope. I do smell a bit of floral, which is probably where the lily came in. The last notes are Sandalwood, Amber, Cedarwood, Patchouly, Oakmoss- and sandalwood, amber, and cedarwood was in Gokudera's as well, which is likely why i'm picking up a similar 'smoke' kind of smell to it. Which, cloud... smoke... I get it.

So the reviews basically say it's a calm and cool kind of scent. A smell that could totally seduce you on a busy train and LOLOLOL I'M NOT GONNA LIE BY DISAGREEING!

-

The Haru perfume. Now, I have to preface this is a perfume bottle from someone who bought it likely years ago because as far as I know, the Haru perfume didn't restock from initial release. This means that a lot of the scent from the perfume may have gotten weaker.

Still, I can try to smell it. Top notes are: Lemon, Cassis, Bergamot. You REALLY do smell the citrus in the lemon for sure and the bergamot. Cassis if I recall was like an alcohol, which- I won't be that surprised by considering perfumes are mostly alcohol based so.. yeah... all of them will have a scent to it. Middle notes: Rose, Jasmine, Muguet, Lavender.

After the initial hit of the lemon/bergamot, you are met with all the floral scents. I don't think I smell much lavendar (idk what muguet smells like) but I do get the rose and jasmine. Last notes are: Musk, Amber, Woody, Peach. I do think I smell the peach, which makes the lemon smell a bit less punch-y in comparison to the way it was used in Gokudera's perfume. (both have lemon and bergamot as top notes)

So overall, Haru's has a feel of smelling of flowers and also citrus, which fits the general vibe of what I HC'ed for her. I do like to think that sometimes she's got vanilla if she was baking as well. It's a soft smell, and it's got a clean kind of smell to it for a lack of better terminology.

Hibari's was also a clean sort of smell as well. Gokudera's def is not a 'clean' smell. NOT to be understood as it being a dirty smell, no, it's more so... that a lot of the scents kinda mesh and almost fight for dominance? Kind of hard to pick out what a dominant smell is or pick out what it is that you smell. So, as it's not so easy to pick apart, it's more... cluttered of a scent?

Yeah

I got the perfumes for vanity and science. Oh, this is also for: so this is basically how I envision how Gokudera and Hibari smell if I ever thread with them AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

#Muneo talks #About Haru

[hydriotaphia]

Hello!

After reading the bit about the Antwina-issance in the recent 2023 fic year in review post, I went to have a nosy at your previous asks (sorry if I spammed your notifications lol).

I came across this one from a while ago, and enjoyed your Kate insight! Wondering about the headcanon PS section at the end. If you remember what it was at that time (or even if it's changed); would you share some more of that headcanon?

Hellooo and please don't apologise. I re-read that part about the Antwina asks and it was slightly more melodramatic than I was intending - perils of a midnight post! I loved getting the asks though was a little bemused it was for a side-pairing I occasionally write😆 This ask was equally lovely to see - thank you! I enjoy sharing headcanons and characterisation.

My headcanon at the time was that Kate would struggle with the shifting identities of trying to hold on to who she is, navigating the new vulnerability and demands (and happiness) of her marriage, while also navigating the Ton as one of them and as a the head of a highly individual family.

It sounds less obvious now because the s3 synopsis seems to be going somewhat in this direction but most early fic and even current fic have Kate excelling in her new role, whereas I think rewriting one's entire world view and planned future, no matter how much in love one is, is difficult and a source of dissonance until you finally feel settled.

Additionally, Kate wasn't emotionally prepped for this at all. I wrote a scene in Beloved (IDK if you've read it) where Kate and Anthony fight about her penchant for riding unaccompanied as a way to navigate what it means to go from being an independent woman whose attitude to any constraints is 'fuck this, fuck you and fuck off' to having to actually represent the Bridgertons in the Ton (and while Violet is still around as a very well-regarded comparison).

The other downside of having the kind of love that poets sing of is that you may find yourself more wrapped up in your spouse than in your family, and there's a chance they'll overcompensate in that direction. They're also very demanding and critical people - pushing themselves and their siblings hard to achieve their measure of success, but I do note that most of s2 is about how Anthony realises he can't keep stomping around making his siblings afraid of/avoid him and Kate realises she does not always know best and barely knows herself.

[God, I love s2 for giving us such relatable protagonists while showing them with all their flaws!]

#asks #bridgerton season 2 #kate sharma #headcanons