#delena child

[nightingale2004]

The vampire diaries next generation: Delena version

Stefanie Jenna Gilbert Salvatore

Faceclaim: Madison Beer

Stefanie is the first daughter of Elena Gilbert and Damon Salvatore

She is the oldest in her family

Stefanie takes after her mother and does her best to be a responsible daughter and older sister

She is a cheerleader and captain of the Mystic Falls cheer squad and chairman of the Mystic Falls high committee

Damon and Elena feel like she is her late uncle Stefan incarnate

Loves seeing the Saltzman twins

She is a great planner and is considered a great service to her community

She is seen as the golden girl and perfect child

She loves her family and even does volunteer work at the Salvatore boarding school (she knows about the supernatural due to an incident regarding one of her sisters)

Helps out her mom at the hospital when she has the time

She also keeps her siblings in line and babysits her youngest sister who is named Sarah Miranda Gilbert Salvatore

She also works at the Mystic grill and sings a little bit

Stefanie is often called goody goody, golden girl, and/or goody two shoes by her sister Rosabella

Stefanie also goes by Stef, or mini Stefan by her family (mostly Damon)

Damon finds it scary how alike his daughter and late brother are

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosabella Lillian Gilbert Salvatore

Faceclaim: Sofia Carson

Rosabella is the second born child of Damon and Elena

She takes after Damon.......by a lot (Alaric and Matt have expressed this many, many times)

Rose and Stefanie don't get along all that well and constantly tease and argue with each other (same thing with Elena)

Every time she and Stefanie have a fight, it reminds Damon of how he and Stefan used to fight

Rosabella is considered the "troublemaker" in the family

Rose spends time at her dad's nightclub in Mystic Falls (her and Damon have tried to keep it on the downlow)

Rose is very jealous of her older sister but would never tell her that

Accidentally got herself turned into a vampire when she snuck off to a party, and a vampire was passing by.

She got transferred from Mystic Falls High to the boarding school shortly after

She and her uncle Jeremy talk a lot, and she loves it when he comes to Mystic Falls for a visit

She likes photography and has creative writing flame. (She writes for her school paper and helps her dad get some publicity)

She lives to annoy Stefanie and tries to embarrass her

When Rose first turned into a vampire, she locked herself in her room to try and contain herself from hurting her family

When her thirst became too much, she would leave to hide in the woods of Mystic falls, but her family would always do everything they could to help her control her thirst for blood no matter what

She drinks both human and animal blood (she did go ripper once and has regretted it ever since)

Her dad calls her his little raven. She pretends to hate the Nickname, but she secretly loves it

Alaric and Matt call Rose, either a mini Damon or a she-demon (she likes it and laughs about it a lot)

`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,

Zachary Grayson Gilbert Salvatore

Faceclaim: Gavin Casalegno

Zachary takes after Damon in looks, but he is calmer like Elena and has an artistic soul like his uncle Jeremy

Zach mostly keeps to himself and never really interacts with society or the town in general

He loves his family

His older sisters often tease him but he knows it's out of love

He also babysits Sarah

He also knew about the supernatural (he knew when he was in middle school)

He found out about the supernatural by stumbling upon his late uncle Stefan's diary, and then he made connections by doing a lot (and I do mean a lot) of research

Out of his three sisters, he loved Rose the most due to them being seen as outcasts in the towns eyes

When his sister, Rosabella, was turned into a vampire, he was more distant with her at first, but he saw how hard she was fighting her "natural killer instincts," and they slowly reconnected again

Zach takes combat and hunter lessons from his uncle Jeremy whenever he's in town or whenever they talk on the phone

Has an interest in auto-mechanics and works at an auto shop (Damon sees a bit of Stefan in Zach whenever he's fixing a car or motorcycle)

He also plays a little bit of football

[ak-rye-47]

Elena : " I am a doctor who has taken an oath to help every person who needs my help"

Enzo : " You refused to take a Bullet out of my back last week"

Elena : " I have taken an oath to help people YOU! are a man stealing HOE!"

Enzo : *pretending to look at his nails while he show of his wedding ring....bitch he is manicured and ring is platinum based diamond*

" Ayi Ayi Ayi some people just jealous"

Stefan : *pulls out camera*

Damon: *very slowly backs out of the room *

[nikkiruncks]

The fact that ch*ir has a son together gives me the same terror as d*lena having a daughter

[barbiesmuse]

ᡣ𐭩 DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which simon riley decides to message you after a year of no contact!

tags: angst, romance-ish, talk of abusive parents, simon's an asshole, slight age gap (27 - 30!), cursing, very slight body image issues, simon is a wreck, not proofread oopsie! talia talks: this is my first post!! this account is inspired by @audisive, much love to this blog! if this does well a part two will be out soon!

One year. Today officially marks one year since Simon left without any warning. He didn't even leave a note. You were a wreck. No one was able to get in contact with you for a month. Simon was your first everything. You questioned yourself over and over. You often find yourself looking in the mirror. You studied your appearance in the mirror. Was it the way you looked? Was it your age?

It took almost two months for you to even begin working again. It wasn't as if Simon was your world, but he was a very important part of it. After you got yourself back on your feet life was beginning to get better. You moved to a new city, got a new job, found new friends, and left your old self behind. A change of pass, at least that's what you wanted. 

No matter how much you wanted to forget the day he left you couldn't. He was always there in the back of your mind. The sound of his voice replaying over and over again. You would catch yourself staring into space, thinking of what life would be like if he was here now. How would he touch you? Simon left a large wound, and you felt as if it wouldn't heal anytime soon. You wondered if would you be engaged or married. Simon left like you were nothing to him, but it was quite the opposite.

Leaving you was the hardest thing Simon had ever done. Simon wasn't one for crying, he despised it. Yet as he took one last look at your once-shared home he felt a singular tear slip down his cheek. The salty liquid traced the curve of his face and slipped into his mouth. The taste of his tears brought him back to himself. Crying? Pathetic.

Simon Riley grew up in a rough house. His father was either absent or drunk. His mother died when Simon was young. He grew up hardened by abuse and war, but when he saw you it all went away. You were the light of his life. He often got lost in the darkness, thoughts of trauma and PTSD clouding his thoughts. You, you were the one thing that stopped him from destroying himself. Now that he didn't have you, he told himself he had nothing to lose.

Simon had stopped going to work, he had stopped eating, and he had stopped speaking. It was as if he wasn't living anymore, like his heart stopped. Simon was staying with his godmother, she was the only constant thing in his life now. He stayed in his room, only coming out once a week to eat. His godmother, Delena worried about him. She had known Simon since he was a child. She watched him grow up, and this was not like him.

Today was the day that marked a year, and you and Simon were both a mess. You wanted nothing more than a warm embrace from Simon. You imagine the creaking in the floorboards was his large boots trudging up the stairs. You imagined he had just come back from deployment, you would smile as he walked into your once-shared room. The sound of your phone “ding!” brought you out of your daydream.

Simon.

As Delena knocked softly on Simon's door she heard the sound of Simon's heavy breathing. Delena didn't wait for confirmation to walk in. She found Simon on his bathroom floor. A bottle of Disaronno lay by his side. His phone was cracked and his balaclava was nowhere to be found. His eyes were red, his lips were chapped, and his hands were shaking. He looked up at Delena with tired glossy eyes. He stayed away for a reason, he was going to ruin you. He wasn't healthy, no part of him was healthy. He was toxic, the only good part about him was you. But he didn't have you anymore.

Simon looked at Delena as she sat down next to him, her back sliding against the wall until she hit the ground. She chuckles softly and his lips curl into a tight grin. “I texted her,” Simon says, he picks up his cracked phone and shows it to his godmother. She gives him a sympathetic look and rubs his back. She knew that you were going to text back. She wished deep down you wouldn't. He had left you, who's to say he won't do it again? But she could never say that to her godson. 

“Well, that was very brave of you, Si.” The older woman says. Her hair was a gorgeous silver color. Her nails were painted a dark red. Simon liked the way she carried herself, with class and elegance. Simon, on the other hand, was a mess. She sighed as she realized there was a slight chance he might never get better. Delena wasn't sure if she was okay with that. She was getting too old.

Your breath hitched as you read the text. Simon had texted you? Why? You didn't want to respond, you hated him. He left you, he never called or texted. Not even a letter, so why should you respond to his text? Yet as you open the message, your heart drops.

Simon. I miss you, love.

talia talks: this was fun to write!! part two will be on it's way soon! xoxo!

[annwrites]

one in the same. part six.

— pairing: otto hightower x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & otto attend the tourney, and then the ball, & things are acknowledged.

— tw: eating

— word count: 7,130

— a/n: oh , they are so darcy x elizabeth, tywin x joanna, daddy x daughter (do not crucify me—but if someone asks me to elaborate, i shall) coded omg.

totally listened to hunger by ross copperman while writing the dance scene (delena 5ever)

— tagging list: @ohsnapitzmarvelficrec

When you wake the next morn, it’s to someone gently gripping your shoulder, speaking lowly into your ear.

You slowly blink your eyes open, still feeling tired and wishing for more rest, and then you see who is the culprit of your interrupted sleep.

You stare up at him with bleary eyes, feeling quite warm and content, and it’s only then that you finally notice your body is pressed against his own; your shift having ridden up to your thighs overnight.

“It is nearly dawn,” he whispers.

You clutch the pillow under you, closing your eyes again. “Then why are we awake, Otto?”

“Seven Hells,” you hear him curse quietly. “You agreed last night that you would be found in your own chambers come the morn. Come, it is time to rise. I will have my guard escort you.”

“I’m not putting my things back on yet again. I’m too tired to dress.”

He rolls his eyes upward dramatically. Always, always difficult. Insolent young woman.

“You cannot leave here in only your shift. Come now. I am not arguing.”

You feel the mattress dip, then rise, but you only spread your arm across his side of the bed, groaning. “Come back,” you mutter, and he pauses at the request.

He then shakes his head, coming round to your side.

Your side.

You now have a side.

He should’ve used a far firmer hand last night in forcing you to leave.

Otto reaches for your shoulder, turning you toward him, and then quickly drops his hand as you begin to stretch, back arching, soft breasts becoming visible through your thin shift.

When you settle, you merely stare up at him.

For the first time, he is thankful things no longer work for him as they once did many years ago.

“Y/N, it is time. You will obey me. Do you have any idea the consequences which would befall each of us if we were found together in such states of…undress?”

Your eyes roam along him, noticing that he is now only dressed in a long, thin night shirt and knickers. Him not wearing a tunic, cloak, and trousers, with his Hand pin placed upon his chest, is a jarring sight. It’s like he is a different man in this moment. Vulnerable. No armor—that is, dress clothes—to speak of. Even his hair is tangled, lying this way and that atop his head, his beard also unkempt.

You sit up then, shift falling lower, your shoulders bare. “Did you sleep well?”

He groans. “There is no time for discussion.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you off the mattress as he hands you your corset.

You glance at it for a moment before looking at him once again towering over you. “I told you I am not putting it back on.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, shutting his eyes, trying to tamper down his boiling temper. “Just this once can you not do as I ask?”

He stares down at you again.

You toss it onto the floor and he clenches his jaw.

Worse than a child, he thinks. Mayhaps this is retribution for all those years spent making you miserable. If he’s discovered like this, with you, he will pay with his head.

He then wonders what ridiculous songs would be written about the Hand and the loss of his head for being found abed with the king’s bastard daughter.

He leans down toward you. “And what, exactly, do you propose to wear through the halls if someone were to set eyes upon you at such early hours?”

You glance to his wardrobe.

The halls are, thankfully, empty as you make your way back to your rooms—Otto’s guard close at your side.

Otto’s robe drags across the floor behind you, the rest of it completely engulfing you. Beneath it, you clutch your clothes close to your chest, heart hammering, hoping—actually praying—not a soul happens across you before you reach your chambers.

“Did anyone see you?” Otto asks, slicing into a poached egg.

You take a bite of toast, then sip at your juice. “If they had, I would have mentioned it as soon as I came through the door.”

He clasps his hands atop the table. “It will never happen again. Is that understood?”

You glance to him with a raised brow. “We shall see.”

His gaze hardens at your flippant tone. “And I expect my robe to be returned promptly.”

You stab at a strawberry tart on his plate. “I would not hold my breath on that account.”

For the next fortnight, the Keep is abuzz with activity—preparations for the celebrations planned by His Grace taking place.

The castle is given a thorough cleaning by the servants, decorations are hung and placed about the corridors, and the cooks and kitchen staff have order after order of fine wines, cheeses, meats, salts, vegetables and fruits, and much more delivered day-by-day.

Meanwhile, you have a new gown made for the ball, and another to wear to the tourney, which will be held beforehand that afternoon.

In truth, you share Otto’s sentiments to such gatherings. They make you not just anxious, but also incredibly uncomfortable. You never feel like more of a pretender than when you are forced to put on a facade of being the king’s eldest daughter, and sister to the Princess—when people address you as ‘Lady’ and bow their heads at your mere presence.

You would rather lock yourself in your chambers and hide under the covers until it is all over. But you know what is expected of you. And so, you must play along. Even if you feel a part of you die inside each time you do.

When Otto enters his chambers—a stack of books in his arms, taken from the library—it is to the sight of you fast-asleep in his bed.

He sets the books down upon a table and studies you for a moment.

He is not entirely pleased with you at-present. After exiting the library, one of his maids had passed him in the hall and informed him that she had brought you lunch, but you had refused to wake for it. So, the dish had, instead, after an hour of sitting untouched, been returned to the kitchens.

You had been sullen lately—spending most of your time sitting in a chair on his balcony, staring silently off into the distance, or sleeping away the day in his bed. Not even his addressing you as ‘Young Lady’ more times than he could count had earned him a sarcastic reply of your name for him—’Old Man’.

And, when it came to dining together, you would only idly push food around your plate, until he was forced to encourage you to eat.

He seats himself on the edge of the bed, staring down at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with his finger. He sighs softly. Even this allowance he had made for you—allowing you back into his bed, even after stating firmly that it was to be a one-time occurrence.

But, when you had come to him one evening, upset, tears shimmering in your eyes—even if you refused to tell him what was the matter—asking if you could stay with him for just a little while, he had relented easily.

So, you’d silently padded into his chambers, clutching your cloak tightly around yourself.

It was when you dropped the item of clothing that your intentions in coming to him were made clear. You were only wearing your shift—ready for bed.

He’d watched as you crawled atop the mattress, burying yourself beneath blankets before falling asleep. He’d not said a word about it.

After that night, you began to sleep in his bed more often than even your own. Mostly during the daytime, that is. There had only been one other evening where you had shared a night together, lying next to one another.

You’d once again remained with him in his chambers reading, the hour quite late, when you’d eventually stood, nervously wringing your hands. “May I stay?”

He’d agreed with a nod, making you promise to dress come the next morning, unlike the first time you’d slept here.

You’d agreed.

And then he had lost yet another one of his robes come the following day.

He brushes the back of his fingers along your cheek. “Darling, it is nearly time for supper.”

Your face twitches, but you do not wake.

He sighs. “You did not eat lunch.”

You’re still quiet. Then, “I was not hungry.”

“Explain to me where this return to melancholic behavior is stemming from. I had thought we’d moved past—”

You open your eyes, staring out the open doors to the balcony. “I do not wish to go to the tourney,” you whisper.

He bends his leg at the knee, turning more toward you. “Nor do I. But such appearances are expected by those in our positions.”

“Do you not recall what…happened during the last one?”

His jaw feathers. So that was why. How did he not see it sooner: the clear explanation for your sudden change in state?

“Y/N…” He trails off, unsure what to even say.

You sit up, tucking hair behind your ears, taking one of his hands within both of yours. “I can’t…stop thinking about it. Everyone sitting in those stands, laughing and cheering and…” Tears sting your eyes. “All while she was…”

You begin to sob.

He then wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I will be there beside you.”

He pulls back, brushing tears from your cheeks, your eyes full of exhaustion. “We shall suffer together,” he states, lip twitching and filling with a small sense of relief when you smile slightly at his jest.

The morning of the tourney, you do not come to him to break your fast, which he allows just this once, presuming that you are otherwise occupied; being readied by your maids for that afternoon’s events.

He does, however, have a plate of fruit and strawberry tarts—a favorite of yours—delivered to your chambers, along with a small box, a note inside addressed to you.

You sit at your vanity, your room vacated of servants now that you have been made ready for spectating.

You stare down at the small box resting in your lap, finally opening it. You first remove the small bit of parchment inside—the Hightower heraldry stamped atop it, which you break—reading the hand-written note: Your ‘handsome stipend’.— Otto

You set the note aside, then gently pull out a long string of pearls, your eyes widening at the beautiful gift. You roll the small opalescent balls between your fingers, smiling slightly to yourself, a warmth blooming in your chest as tears sting your eyes at the generous gift.

You then glance to the plate of tarts and berries Otto had sent your way just that morn and pick up a mulberry, placing it upon your tongue, and slowly chewing.

There is a knock at your door, interrupting you from your nervous pacing.

You slowly open it, and are met with the sight of Otto, one arm pressed against the door-frame, the other hanging limply by his side.

He then takes in the vision that is you. Your long hair is curled, some of it gathered atop your head, small pearl pins placed throughout. You wear a soft gown that is the shade of seafoam, the long sleeves and skirt made of loose gossamer, the embroidered bodice hugging your feminine frame. Slippers placed upon your dainty feet. And then, hanging from your slender neck, is a long string of familiar-looking pearls, which you come to finger nervously as you watch him watching you.

“I look ridiculous,” you say, face heating, wishing to let your hair down.

He lowers his right arm behind his back, clutching his other, as he stands tall. “You look lovely.”

You blink up at him and he then looks behind you to your dining table—the plate of food he had sent to you practically untouched. He steps around you, picking up a tart and holding it toward you. “Eat this and then we may go.”

You step toward him, taking it from his hand. In truth, you had retched twice overnight just thinking about today. Food was the last thing you desired. But he knows that already. It’s why he’s asking you to eat at all—because he is aware, without even needing have been told, that you haven’t all morn.

You take a bite, then another, chewing slowly, both of you looking at the other as you finally finish it.

He then offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitate to take it, wondering why he is not instead accompanying the King, or even his daughter. Or anyone else but…you.

He then speaks again, his eyes alight. “I did promise that we would suffer through it together, did I not?”

Your lip twitches then as you come to securely wrap both of your arms around his own, holding tightly as you press your cheek against his cloak. You step alongside him as he leads you out into the hall, shutting the door to your room firmly behind him.

You look out the windows to the carriage at the passing scenery that is the streets of King’s Landing.

“You did not treat me so kindly at the last tourney,” you say quietly.

He rests his hands in his lap, clasping them together. “I know.”

You think back to it.

You’d come into the royal stands already a nervous wreck—but doing your utmost to hide it as you smiled politely and greeted those who greeted you. And then you’d gone to seat yourself next to Lady Alicent—the only empty seat remaining, on her left—until Otto had abruptly stood, grabbing the chair, and moving it far away from everyone else.

You had stood there, swallowing down the lump in your throat, feeling sick as he glared at you, returning to his own seat.

And so you had spent that afternoon seated alone, fighting back tears, praying for the jousting to be over sooner rather than later so you could fall apart in your chambers without witnesses.

Which you had most certainly done, but for entirely different reasons than initially planned.

“You humiliated me,” you say, refusing to look at him.

In truth, he had filled with guilt when he saw the look in your eyes after he had done it. That of utter sorrow. He had regretted it, but also refused to undo it, leaving you sitting there, staring down at your hands in your lap, not partaking in the festivities for even a moment as you drifted away in your mind.

“I deeply regret it. It was a cruel thing to have done.”

“You made a spectacle of me. The one person there who wanted anything but attention put on her. I did not even wish to be in attendance in the first place.”

He leans forward, taking both of your hands in his. “Forgive me, Y/N. I assure you, I will never do such an ugly thing ever again.”

He presses his lips to your fingers—the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin—before pulling back, looking at you.

You nod gently. “I forgive you.”

You squeeze Otto’s arm—press yourself closely to his side—as he leads you up and into the stands. You stare up at him—anywhere but at the gathering crowd across the way—while he keeps his eyes forward, his face unreadable.

It’s in this moment that you finally notice just how different of a man he truly is with you. His features softer, his form more relaxed, even his body is less tense when you are alone.

By keeping your gaze trained on him, you fail to notice the various pairs of eyes which take the both of you in. All filled with either shock or pleasant surprise.

Viserys halts mid-sentence while speaking to Lord Corlys, brows furrowing slightly at the two of you together in one another’s company. A sight which he has never seen before, but is pleased to today, nonetheless.

Rhaenyra turns back around from leaning over the railing, watching knights and horses being readied to tilt, smile faltering as she watches Otto retrieve a chair from the front of the stands, settling it next to his own, which you seat yourself in.

Alicent glances up to her from her own position, following Rhaenyra’s line-of-sight, turning to look behind her, and her heart drops when she sees her father seating himself next to you, smiling slightly as the two of you begin to speak quietly amongst yourselves. Your hands are wrapped around his arm, which rests between the two of you, your chairs are pushed so closely together.

“Do you ever bet on these ridiculous jousts?” You ask him, fingers gripping the soft material of his cloak.

He leans back, crossing his long legs—which are stretched out before him—at the ankle. “Never.”

“And have you ever participated in any? As you are a knight.”

Somehow, picturing him atop a horse with a lance in his hand and a helmet with a feather stuck in the top upon his head makes you want to burst out laughing. So, you instead bury the lower-half of your face against the crown of his shoulder, slightly giggling at the thought.

He looks to you with a raised brow. “Does such an image amuse you, young lady?”

You nod slightly, staring up at him.

His lip twitches. “Jousting, no. Sparring, however, a few times. Though, I preferred to do it for practice to keep my skills with a sword sharpened.” He fears they have, perhaps, dulled over time now.

You rest your chin atop his shoulder. “I should like to see that.”

He looks back ahead. “All you would see is an old man eating dirt. I am not as I once was. Not nearly as nimble; as quick.”

“I’ve never seen you use your sword.”

“If we are fortunate, I may die without ever needing to.”

He then glances to Alicent, knowing that if certain plans come to fruition, the events of today may have all been for naught. But, he fears the young Princess will not allow the traditions of primogeniture to prevent her from taking what he is sure she now thinks of as being rightfully hers: the Iron Throne.

House Targaryen’s words may very-well be witnessed in his lifetime then.

You pull him from his thoughts when you next speak. “I wanted to thank you for my gift,” you say softly, fingers sliding down your pearls.

He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Merely repayment for all your hard work.”

You slide your hand further up his arm, finally glancing to the gathering crowd across the way. “Yes, I suppose being a most constant sense of frustration for you is rather taxing employment.”

He laughs then suddenly and rather loudly, a few heads turning in your direction, while he glances down to you, shaking his head with a smile, grinning. “Indeed.”

He then rests his hand over-top your own that’s gripping his sleeve.

Rhaenyra had already given her favor away rather early-on, but yet another knight rides up, calling her name.

You watch silently, cheek resting on Otto’s shoulder—eagerly awaiting the close of events—as Rhaenyra stands, walking forward.

She then turns around, looking at you with a smile. She waves her hand for you to come.

Your brows furrow as you release Otto’s arm for the first time all afternoon, standing.

She nods toward the small table beside you. “He wishes to receive your favor. Ser Hugh.”

You smile nervously in return, grabbing your laurel of white roses, glancing to Otto for just a moment as you do—the look in his eyes cold, his jaw hard, hands squeezed tightly into fists as he watches you.

Your brows knit together briefly, an unsettling feeling coming over you as you turn, coming to stand beside Rhaenyra.

A handsome man, a handful of years older than you, with dark hair and a tempting smile stares up at you from under polished armor, holding a lance in your direction. “I would be most pleased, My Lady, to boast your favor. I’m most assured that with it, and your blessings, I will best my opponent.”

You drop the small wreath of flowers, watching as it slides down toward him, coming to settle at the base of his lance. “You now have both, Ser,” you say with a shy smile.

He winks before lowering the visor of his helm, his horse trotting away before he positions it at the far-right end of the median, which separates him and the opposing knight.

Otto keeps his eyes trained on you, blood boiling at your gallant knight having been so forward. A recurring annoyance indeed. First a marriage proposal, and now openly seeking your favor before the eyes of many. He is sure this evening he will only grow bolder; so he resolves to as well.

He cannot have you.

None of them can.

On the carriage ride back to the Keep, you’d fought against a small smile which kept working its way back onto your lips the entire journey. Otto had remained silent, glaring out the window, wondering if perhaps it wasn’t singularly-sided then. Mayhaps you instead saw him as more of a fatherly figure, as opposed to…anything else.

Who was he, at his age, to be desiring someone of yours, anyway? He tells himself such inclinations did not develop until quite recently, but he knows that to be a falsehood. They’d begun long ago. It’s precisely why, for some time, each time your father received correspondences requesting your hand, Otto had used everything at his disposal—his words as deft and polished as possible—to council him to hold onto you for as long as manageable instead, assuring him that lowly knights and third-born sons were not proper matches for the eldest daughter of the King. That to just hand you off to such men would make him look weak.

And Viserys had taken such advice, thankfully.

He prays Ser Hugh does not make an audience with the King tonight, inquiring as to the outcome of his recent written request for your hand, for Viserys never even saw it before Otto had destroyed it, tossing it into his hearth a fortnight ago.

Finally, Otto looks at you, wondering how best to inquire about your thoughts toward this new mystery knight—for you are not yet familiar with him; nor will you ever be, if he has something to say about it, and he’s most sure he will.

“He is a bastard.”

You look at him, brows furrowing. “Hm?”

“Ser Hugh.”

“Oh.” A pause. “We already have something in common, then.”

You stare at him, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see if you had been right—if that look he had given you as you took your laurel in-hand had been jealousy. Just the thought of it had kept you biting back a smile the entire ride to the Keep; the first time you had felt any form of even slight joy in days upon days.

He leans back, folding his hands. “He is the son of a blacksmith.”

You raise a brow in feigned interest. “He must be rather strong, then, no?”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “It implies that he comes from impoverished means.”

“You sound rather like a snob,” you reply looking back out the window.

His temper begins to boil.

You speak again. “As did I, before my father claimed me. At least he has made something of himself.”

What’ve you done? Read books and recited poetry and practised with your septa how best to be a dutiful wife to the right lord, which will be chosen for you by another’s hand one day? You suddenly feel an urge to get out and walk instead. You are unworthy to be wearing such fine things—in an expensive carriage being pulled by the best horses coin can buy.

And he intends to climb even higher, even further toward the throne—at the very least, the Crown, Otto thinks.

He resolves in that moment to not allow him anywhere near you during the ball. He does not deserve you.

He leans forward. “And you have not?”

You look at him. “No, I don’t think I have.”

He frowns, watching you go back to facing the window. “You think what, then? That finding a husband of preference will be the measure of your success? The metric by which you determine how meaningful your life is?”

You would be surprised to hear him think otherwise. He is not forward-thinking enough to see a woman as being capable of making her own way, surely.

You meet his eyes. “You do not?”

He chews the inside of his cheek, thinking how best to word the things he next says. “I think that you are far brighter than you give yourself credit for. I was always aware of how you were coming along in your studies. Studies which you never faltered in endeavoring to perfect your skills in. Reading, writing, sewing, instruments, dancing—”

“Yes, because perfecting the waltz is something of any importance.”

“What, then? Children?”

You fight against a snort. You wonder if this you can trust him with. Something no woman—none of your position, anyway—is meant to admit to. You do not look at him when you finally reply.

“I do not…desire them. I have never felt an innate need to have them. I believe that—if given the opportunity—I would be perfectly content to instead live my life at my husband’s side without ever having bore any. But, in the end, it will not be my choice: whether I do or no. Whatever the man who takes me to wife wants, he shall get. That will be my lot in life. A vessel to be used at his disposal, and tossed aside when he is done with me. When I am old and grey and no longer… Well, no longer.”

You both remain quiet, only the sound of horses whinnying and wooden wheels rolling over cobblestone breaking the silence.

You continue. “And no man would ever take such a woman to wife. So, yes, I perfected my lessons. So I might be a pretty doll, who smiles and laughs and says all the right things so some lord or knight or other, may pluck me from my shelf one day and call me his property. While I wither away inside, forgetting who I am as I become, instead, whatever he wants me to be. A man chosen by other men in my life, who think they know what is best for me, without ever asking me what I may want; think.”

Otto finally speaks, his voice low, entirely serious. “And if you found a husband who also wants the same as you—who no longer—” He cuts himself short, beginning again. “Rather, does not desire children himself, and would rather treat you as his equal, because he sees you for exactly who you are?”

You look at him, expression unreadable, even if your heart pounds at what you think—rather, desperately hope—he is implying. “Then I think he should ask me for my hand.”

You look back to the window, the Red Keep coming into sight. “Before another does.”

You emerge from your chambers, ready to vomit all over the floor at the thought of someone asking you to dance. And then there is the fact that you will be announced when you enter the room, drawing all eyes in your direction.

You fidget nervously with your pearls—a newly-formed habit, as of today—not even paying attention to where you are going as you slam into another’s solid body.

You look up then, ready to begin apologizing profusely, until you fill with relief, seeing it is only Otto. You then press your forehead to his chest and groan in frustration.

He lets out a low chuckle, hands coming to rest against your back. “We share similar sentiments.”

You pull yourself closer, pressing your cheek against him then, wrapping your arms around his lean frame. “I do not wish to.”

His left hand comes to cup the back of your neck. “Nor do I. But, I am afraid, what you and I wish for today is of little consequence.”

You pull away, looking up to him then. “I would rather be dining with you in your chambers. Grating on your last nerve.”

His lip twitches and he reaches up, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “One in the same, as always.”

You cling tightly to his arm—even more-so than this afternoon—as the two of you approach that large set of double-doors, which are already open, guests wandering inside the Throne Room for the feast, and then, eventually, dancing.

You wear a dark gray gown tonight—the skirt made of tulle, which sparkles against the lit torches and braziers lining the walls. The bodice melds to your body, the sleeves long and loose, tight cuffs keeping them in-place around your wrists. You wear, once again, a comfortable pair of slippers. Your hair is down and full, a single ribbon tied in the back, holding a few meddlesome strands out of your face. On your fingers, a couple small rings, and around your neck—Otto’s pearls.

You glance up to him, thinking he looks very handsome tonight. He wears a midnight-black cloak, the neckline high and lined thinly with fur. His tunic is emerald green and the stitching is impeccable. His dark trousers perfectly fitting for his long legs, his boots polished, and his Hand of the King pin gleaming.

“You look quite dashing tonight,” you say, pressing your cheek to his arm.

He looks to you with a smirk at the compliment. “I do not believe anyone has referred to me as such in over a decade.”

He then looks down to you, your wide eyes staring up at him. “You look beautiful.”

“The Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower, and accompanying him, the Lady Y/N Targaryen,” cries the page from the doorway.

You want nothing more in all the world than to hide behind Otto, but you instead keep your chin held high, your arm casually draped over his, and a healthy distance of a few inches between the two of you as you walk between long trestle tables toward the high table at the front of the room, where the King, your father, is already seated. He watches the two of you with curious eyes, taking note of the new pearl necklace that you fidget with.

Otto pulls out a chair two seats down from your father and you sit, him pushing you in. He glances across the hall to a familiar knight—staring daggers in his direction—as his fingers brush along your shoulders.

He then seats himself between you and Viserys, immediately engaging in conversation with the King, as his right hand, surprisingly, comes to rest gently atop your left knee beneath the table.

You flush, taking it between both of your own, lightly kneading your thumbs against the back of it, so as to keep yourself occupied from the lords and ladies of the Realm staring at those seated at the front of the room.

Eventually, once the hall is filled, and it seems all are present, Viserys stands, ready to make a brief speech.

Otto leans back in his chair, his hand still between both of yours, until your fingers still and you decide to try something perhaps…foolish. Mayhaps even juvenile.

You twine your slender fingers between his own and his face remains impassive as he curls his around your hand in return.

Your eyes sting with happy tears as you focus on the feel of your hand in his, instead of the words your father speaks to the awaiting crowd.

Your hand shakes as you spear a cooked vegetable with your fork, nervously glancing at the chattering crowd before you, searching to see if anyone is watching as you take a small bite.

You swallow, stomach tied into knots, setting your fork down, deciding you will simply have to eat again tomorrow morning. Here and now is not the ideal time.

Otto leans toward you. “Just look at me,” he says quietly.

You turn your gaze to him. “What?”

He nods toward your plate. “Eat, but do not look at them. Only at me.”

You reach for your fork again, stabbing at a piece of chicken and looking at Otto as you take another bite, swallowing.

He nods. “Good.”

You do it again, each bite easier to handle as your eyes refuse to leave him.

You are filled with relief once the servants clear the room of the dinner that had been served, leaving only berries and fruit and cheeses and slices of bread for people to idly dine upon as they dance.

Rhaenyra is made the center of attention for tonight—suitor after suitor vying to be her next dance partner, while you sit silently, content to watch. But as you do, it does fill you with a sense of longing, if not forlornness.

You look down to your hands in your lap—Otto now across the room speaking with his brother and good-sister—wondering what sort of match will eventually be made for you. What he might be like. If he will, at the very least, be kind to you.

Or if he will keep you at arm’s length—will take a mistress right in front of you, which you are forced to share your household with—while you grow to feel more alone than ever. You do not know if you can bear such a fate. If you would even bother trying.

Otto glances over to you, watching as you nervously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before fidgeting with your necklace, clearly lost-in-thought. He doesn’t like the distant look in your eyes, the way your brows furrow, as if you are being asked a question you cannot find the answer to.

He then looks across the room and fills with loathing when he spots Ser Hugh, who clearly has his sights set on you. He begins to head in your direction and Otto suddenly steps away from Hobert then, without so much as excusing himself as he tries to make his way back to you, forcing himself through throngs of people, even pushing a few aside carelessly, his shoulder bumping into another’s—he knows he must seem the image of discourtesy right now—as he finally reaches the high table, Ser Hugh only a few feet away and pausing in his steps as Otto leans down toward you, offering you his hand.

“Come with me,” he says quietly.

You blink up at him, torn from dark thoughts of wasting away in a castle somewhere, your sanity slowly slipping as you lose pieces of yourself day-by-day as all sense of joy and safety leave you.

“Where?” You ask, wondering if, perhaps, he is going to escort the two of you back upstairs finally.

You would be completely content with that; sitting silently with him, perhaps draped in one of his soft robes as he lies his head in your lap—you are sure he must have a headache by now from all the excitement today has held—and the two of you converse quietly in his private quarters.

“You shall have to join me to find out.”

You slide your hand into his then, and hold securely to him as he weaves his way deftly through the crowded room, both of you slipping away with hardly being noticed.

“Why are we in the Godswood?”

The music from inside is loud enough that it carries through the walls even to out here.

Otto pulls you close, unable to even recall the last time he’d done this. In truth, it was one of the benefits of growing older—no longer being expected to partake in such foolish customs. But, if it will make you happy—he had seen the way you had watched Rhaenyra with her many dance partners, with a look of yearning—he will do it again. This one last time.

“Dance with me,” he whispers.

You stare up at him, blinking and in disbelief. Dance. He wants to dance? You then wonder if he even still recalls how. You find it difficult to imagine him ever sweeping across a ballroom floor with a woman in his arms.

“I—”

He takes your right hand into his left, then positions your own atop his tall shoulder while he settles his right against the small of your back.

He steps forward and you step back, following his lead. He does so again and again, moving the two of you across the soft grass of the Godswood, only the moon and stars bearing witness to this intimate moment.

He then extends his arm, you stepping outward, then pulling you back to him, holding you close as he gently dips you, then slides his fingers into your hair, holding your gaze to his as he takes you back in the other direction, gently turning the two of you as he continues your shared waltz.

You smile up at him, tears of joy shimmering in your eyes as he then twirls you around, then pulling your chest back against his own.

“You’re quite good at this,” you say, breathless.

He smiles softly down at you. “And you, My Lady, shall be the last I take in my arms like this.”

He presses his lips to your forehead then and your eyes flutter closed, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks as you continue to move across the yard.

Finally, the music slows and then quiets, leaving your heart pounding, soft breaths escaping your lips, his own now close to yours as he leans down to you.

Please.

His fingers tangle in your hair once again, his body pressed to yours, and your eyes unfocus as you wait, anticipating, hoping.

Praying. For him.

“The hour is late.”

Your heart shatters.

You stare up at him then, feeling heartbroken. Stupid girl. Always so stupid. You were young enough to be his daughter. Of course that was why he had done it. Why he has done…everything he has. Whatever this is—it is clear now, that he sees it as some sort of surrogate relationship. You, a young, hopeless girl, and him a man who has tried to help guide you back to…health? You do not know now.

In what world would he ever feel…that. And for you, of all people.

No. You will never have that. Best to accept it now. You should’ve done so long, long ago.

You step away from him then, staying silent.

“I will escort you back to your room.”

You shake your head. “There is no need. You should rejoin your brother. I will do just as well on my own. I bid you goodnight, Ser Otto.”

You turn to leave then and his face falls at you addressing him by title now. Not that he does not have himself to blame for it.

“Y/N—”

“I am tired. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening with your family, Ser.”

He watches you go, not speaking another word.

It takes everything you have to keep yourself together as you all but race back to your room. And once you are closed inside—the door locked behind you—you fall to the floor and break.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead to the floor as you sob. You had loved your birth-mother and she had died. And then Aemma, and she, too, was now gone.

Everyone leaves.

You have tried to connect with your father, but it has always been well and obvious that Rhaenyra is favored by him. And with Rhaenyra, Alicent might as well be her sister instead.

You had convinced yourself that you were contented with being alone—you had even done an experiment shortly after Aemma’s passing, when grief had overtaken every facet of you: you’d not spoken for a day. You had wished to see if anyone would notice, would bother speaking to you instead.

Not a soul had.

After that, you had decided to lock your true self away from all others. You would be polite. Would do as expected. Be whoever you needed be for anyone that you were in the company of. But you would no longer open up. Would no longer even think to share yourself with any of them. Because you finally knew the horrible truth: no one cared.

Not about you.

But then Otto had come to you—made amends. He had looked after you. Had ensured your health, your safety, even your happiness. You…you had shared a bed together. Not in that way, perhaps, but you had. Thrice. And it had meant such a great deal to you. He had begun to.

And now you see. See that you have made a grave mistake. You should’ve let things persist as they had. If only you had refused to let him in, you would not be drowning in tears now.

After you have exhausted yourself, you fall asleep like that—lying on the floor; utterly empty, knowing you are back to the way you had been somewhere over a month ago: completely alone.

The way you should have remained.

Otto sits in his chambers with his head in his hands, wondering if he should not go to you.

The way you had looked at him as you danced, smiling at him, tears of happiness in your lovely eyes… In that moment he knew that he had finally done it: made you his. So, he had pressed his lips to your forehead, knowing he felt the same.

But as you waited with bated breaths for him to kiss you… He had finally snapped out of whatever delusion he has been living in for weeks on-end and realized that this can not be.

His late Lady Wife would be his last. That was what was right—proper. He would not dishonor her memory.

It was not just your age, but also your social standing—your circumstances of birth—which had prevented him from taking things further. Not that it would have been seemly to do so in general.

Or, those are the excuses he feeds himself, anyway.

He does not much care what others say or may think of him, but he has a reputation to maintain. Carrying on with a bastard-born girl, come from a whore from Flea Bottom—he cannot stomach the thought.

But as he sits there, picturing you with another man—him never to see you again as your fears of wasting away come to life…that is what truly fills him with revulsion.

He does not find sleep this night.

[duchess-of-oldtown]

The thing about Stannis that people often forget that he was only 17 when Robert's Rebellion started. His parents are dead, his older brother who was meant to be in charge and head of the family has practically abandoned him with all the responsibilities of being Lord of Storm's End, being head of the family and raising Renly who was 3 or 4 at this time. He's seventeen and all of a sudden he has to make a choice between what he knows is the "right" thing to do which is staying loyal to the Crown or standing with his brother, who he no doubt loves despite his later declaration in ACOK. He's seventeen and there's an army outside the walls, everybody inside those walls has to rely on him when he knows that they really want Robert, he is in charge when doubtless he wants Robert back. He's the one who is meant to be in charge after all, the one with the experience, he's only 17. He has to watch Renly grow thinner and thinner, likely going without food himself just to give Renly an extra mouthful here and there. He has to see people turn on House Baratheon from inside the castle, probably knowing them all his life. He has to punish them or end up looking weak, he can't afford weakness. Not when there are hundreds depending on him. And Robert. He's depending on him too, afterall. Then comes the news that Rhaegar is dead, King's Landing is Robert's and he's King now. Weeks later, Stannis gets news that the Siege is about to be lifted. Doubtless he looks out over the walls and sees who has come to save him. It's not Robert. It's Ned Stark, who Robert went to war with, who Robert sees as a brother, far more than he's ever treated Stannis. And even then Stark has to run off for another duty, leaving Stannis to deal with Storm's Ends recovery. Then when things are settled, the Baratheons unite. Robert has a task for Stannis rather than a thank you or an apology. Stannis grits his teeth and gets on with it. He fails to capture the last Targaryens. He returns only to hear Robert's grumbles. And when comes time for dealing with succession, Renly- who is only a child - gets Storm's End. Stannis gets Dragonstone, the reminder of his failure not his achievements. It breaks Stannis's trust in Robert. In the following years, Robert becomes more and more of a disappointment. He beds Delena Florent at Stannis's wedding ruining the nuptials which are nothing more to Stannis than a political move no doubt recommended by Jon Arryn. He becomes more lazy, more distant, less and less of somebody to look up. To make matters worse, Renly who Stannis protected, starved for and practically raised, still looks up to Robert, pushing Stannis away. By AGOT, Stannis is isolated by his own House, trapped in a loveless marriage, weighed down by duties he never asked for, responsibilities that he has to shoulder because Robert won't, crushed under the knowledge of the Lannister Twincest and its repercussions and he's just been pushed aside again by Ned Stark, this stranger who Robert idolises so much. Its the last straw so he leaves. Months later, Robert is dead, Renly is at the heart of trouble and the Realm is bleeding again. Stannis declares himself King, not only because Melisandre wraps the shroud of messiah around him or he really feels any sort of higher calling or ambition. He does it because that's what he does, he cleaned up Robert's messes, he steps into Robert's shoes and does his duty. Just has he's been doing since he was just a child.

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

tag game

List five canon things you dislike so much you've decided they aren't real (so they can't hurt you)

Mine:

(spoilers ahead for hunger games, vampire diaries, marvel, and gilmore girls)

Finnick's ending in THG. Him and Annie are happily together with their child.

Toy Story 4. I love how Toy Story is a perfect trilogy and they knew Toy Story 3 was a perfect ending so they could leave it there :D

Delena endgame. I love that Stefan and Elena found their way back to each other and are living their best life.

Steve's ending in Avengers: Endgame. I loved that he stayed in the present with Sharon and him and Bucky and Nat and Sam are all besties. (Basically most of Endgame and everything post-Endgame is not real to me).

The ending of Gilmore Girls and the A Year in The Life reboot. It makes me so happy that Rory and Logan are happily together, Lorelai didn't wait years to finally marry Luke, Jackson never lied to Sookie about the vasectomy, and Dave Rygalski and Lane got married and toured the world as successful musicians.

no pressure tagging: @bouquet-of-wilting-violets @backgroundagent3 @heartandflowerball @vrakali @thstarsofsilver @nightskyye @daydreaming-optimist @burning-daylight @galactic-gamora @kanerallels @colored-pins @5omebody-else and anyone else who sees this and wants in!

[delenaisepiclove]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass it on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Hey Cosmic! Well let’s see…five fav fics that I’ve written. I’ve written a bunch on FanFiction.Net but for this post I’m going to stick with the ones I have up on ao3. First one that comes to mind is The Reunion. It’s about Faith and Buffy reuniting after her time in prison and it’s currently my most popular piece on ao3, so that makes me very happy. Not only that, it was my first time ever writing a w/w fic so to know that a lot of people liked it really meant a lot. :)

Second would have to be Partners in Crime. It’s based off of the animated show She-Ra and is centered around Catra and Adora, two of the main characters in the show. It’s another one that got a lot of attention that I really enjoyed writing. It’s very wholesome and sweet with a dash oof mischievousness thrown into it. Very very cute.

Third would be an on-going fic I’m writing called Star Crossed Enemies to Lovers. It’s a vampire fic centered on two characters from the show Killing Eve. Eve is a vampire hunter focused on hunting down a vampire named Villanelle, and the two have this back and forth cat and mouse game for awhile until feelings eventually between the characters. I only have a few chapters up and am in the process of writing the third chapter, but it’s coming along nicely and I can’t wait to post it! It’s my first vampire fic I’ve written in years so I’m pretty stoked about it. :) It’s not quite as popular as my last two but I’m hoping it’ll gain more traction as I add more chapters to it.

Fourth is A Blast from the Past, my latest Delena fanfic. This one is pretty dark, and is based off of a storyline I did on my RP account with a close friend many years ago. Damon and Elena are still vampires and have settled down, and even conceived a child together. But sometime later on down the road, something happens that causes Damon to revert back to his old ways where he only cared about Katherine and nobody else. It’s another WIP of mine and I’m not sure when I’ll have the second chapter posted. I just have fond memories of writing that with my friend and wanted to share it with more people.

And for my final story it would have to be Dark Savior. It’s another w/w fic set in the Buffy series only this time it’s centered around Faith and Willow. This is takes place during the Dark Willow arc and instead of Xander calming Willow down from her plan to end the world, it’s Faith. Unusual pairing but I think it works really well here, though I’m more of a Fuffy (Buffy/Faith) person personally.

If you’re interested in reading these stories you can find them all on my ao3 page. I only have a handful up so far so it’s not hard to find the five fics I’ve talked about in this post.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialStorm/works

[anxiousnerdwritings]

lmao no Robert guaranteed knew the reader was fucking his wife and just didn’t care. but the funny thing is that no one knows until Ned pulls up with that letter after he dies and reveals that Robert named the reader his heir and the letter not might outright say that he knew but the tone is there for the Baratheon brothers to pick up on. absolutely no one is willing to argue with Ned or the letter. if anything Cersei backs Ned up alongside Renly and Stannis even if pisses Tywin off but Tywin begrudgingly accepts it because the reader has claimed Robert’s eldest child as his heir ontop of promising to marry Cersei to maintain the Baratheon/Lannister alliance and goes as far to offer to release Jaime from the Kingsguard but that’s just cause he doesn’t want any golden children coming out.

Robert pulling the ultimate plot twist after his death. The Reader and Cersei had thought they were keeping it on the real down low meanwhile Robert was the very first to know and it didn’t bother him much, if at all. Hey, he’s got his own bastards so it’s expected that his brother would have bastards too, even if those bastards were with Robert’s own wife. Honestly, Robert was probably grateful that the Reader would keep Cersei occupied so he could whore around more and be left to his own devices without her nagging and berating.

I could even see Robert finding it amusing that his younger brother was able to swindle his own wife away from him. Dare I say he has a sense of pride towards the Reader for it. Kind of like how Robert deflowered and bed Delena Florent on Stannis’ wedding night and even did it in the newlyweds bed, but the Reader ended up one upping him by bedding Robert’s own wife in his own bed and fathered Robert’s ‘children’.

As absurd as it is, I like to think that Robert leaves behind a letter strictly for the Reader basically all in good fun, telling them that he’s not mad at the Reader and doesn’t really hold anything against them and that they basically won Robert at his own game of whoring around and having bastards.

I definitely see Robert choosing the Reader as his heir over Renly and Stannis because he thinks Renly is too immature and undeserving of it and just plainly to spite Stannis. Not to mention I stand by Robert having more of a relationship with the Reader than any of his other brothers which adds to it. Not to mention the Reader already had Cersei and the kids so why not also give him the throne. If anyone should get it it should be the Reader. Also, Ned would be there too to help out and continue being Hand unless the Reader stated otherwise.

Also with the Reader in the picture the Starks wouldn’t die out and the war between them and the Lannisters wouldn’t happen. They’d get a much better happy ending. Besides, the Reader would probably be a much better father to Joffrey so he wouldn’t turn into a little bratty psychotic weirdo and Sansa mad he might end up in a much more normal and healthy courtship. But if Joffrey is far from saving and still ends up the way he is then the Reader wouldn’t allow Sansa to be forced into being with him. Not to mention he’s not going to do Ned and his family dirty like that either.

I really love the idea of Stannis and Renly being on pretty good terms with the Reader and being loyal them. Like, sure they would have betrayed Robert and usurp him if they had the chance but they know the Reader will do good enough by them. Not to mention they like the Reader better, especially Stannis. Imagine the Reader being the only one to get Stannis to laugh or let up a bit at the very least? Renly doesn’t know how he does it but he finds it fascinating. Also, the Reader totally knows about Renly’s taste in men and is fine with it. He keeps it under lock and key and has even been a wingman for his little brother on occasion. The Reader would also be pretty protective of Renly if anyone were to bring it up to tarnish his image.

Overall, Baratheon!Reader is a pretty likable person who can make friends and allies easy but will not hesitate to fuck anyone’s shit up. Not to mention he’s much more capable as a king then Robert ever was. Cersei certainly couldn’t be happier with the life she has now, thank the gods she took Robert’s life when she did. Hell, she should have done it sooner if things were going to be this good.

Imagine if Robert actually thought that Cersei was unworthy of being with the Redaer though? Like, not even as a consort. Hell, he doesn’t even think she’s deserving of birthing his brother’s bastards either. He totally thinks that his brother could do so much better than Cersei and may have even been trying to form betrothals behind the Reader and Cersei’s backs to get his brother to be with someone more worthwhile. Just yet another thing to add to the list of reasons why Cersei wanted him dead.

[secretagentboob]

I have been thinking about this all day. All of the Bestie Boos are mostly way too young for the following.

Team Brucas vs Team Leyton

Two best friends who fall in love with the same guy. They fight, they make up and then they both end up with who they are supposed to be with.

Team Logan vs Team Dean vs Team Jess

God was the shipping war with Gilmore Girls something that these Bestie Boos wouldn't be able to handle. Rory hurt each one of these men as well as each one of these men hurting Rory. It was bad but in the end she ended up with no one because she needed to find herself first.

Team Delena vs Team Stelena

This is one for the ages. If you were around for The Vampire Diaries you know the fights that people got into with who they thought Elena should end up with. I think she wound up with the right Brother. Even though Damon said she saw Stefan first it was Damon whom she saw first so I think she ended up with the right person.

Team Edward vs Team Jacob

I personally think Stephanie Meyer put Bella with the wrong character. Bella had so much more chemistry with Jacob than she did with Edward. But my god this fandom was very toxic (seems like 9-1-1 is going to be more toxic than this fandom)

Team Finchel vs Team Fuinn

Personally my best friend and I are at odds when it comes to a lot of TV shows but this one is the worst. We did not agree with who we thought Finn should end up with and it ended up in some very heated arguments. Personally I think Finn ended up with the right person. Quinn led him on to believe that he was the father to her child when in fact she did cheat on him.

If these Bestie Boos were around for any of that their shit would have been shut down so fast. There are a lot more but I don't want to bore you guys with my silly rambling but I need all of them to just sit back and really think, most of the demographic for the silly wee woo show are the Gen X and Millennials and boo boo we have been through it all.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk!

[bidonica]

👀

This is a sketch for a fanwork exchange that I put aside once I read the request a second time, oops! I might still pick it back up because I love this scene (Brienne unknowingly seeing Sandor at the Quiet isle)

Bonus: fic wip snippet from an abandoned, long-ish fic about Larys Strong’s childhood and my Alys headcanons I was writing last spring but that I lost the inspiration for once info about show!Alys started leaking 🤡 for context, this scene is set at the Harrenhal baths:

“My father knows about you,” Larys says, slowly. “He told me to be wary of you.”

Alys runs her fingers a bit deeper through her brother’s curls. “I bet he thinks I’m my mother come again. That I came here to ask for something.”

“But you did. You asked for a job and for reading lessons.”

“Fair enough. I think that’s not the kind of demand he had in mind, though.” She massages his scalp, gently. It sends a pleasant radiation through Larys’s head and neck. He’s never been touched much. “He doesn’t know I’m also giving you something much more precious than what my mother gave to him. In fact, what she gave him was pretty cheap.”

“You hate her.” Larys tries to imagine hating Lyonel, the way he hates Olyvar and his cronies. But he has no reason to. He thinks then of Lady Delena. They dislike each other, that much he knows, but they both resolved to just avoid being in the same room together as much as possible. As a consequence, his trueborn half-sisters are little more than strangers to him. Alys knows him better than either of them.

Alys’s hand stops moving. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Let us just say I am different. And I will be different.” Her fingers dig in again. “I am sorry we had a disagreement this past week, Larys mine, I really am. I want to be your friend. I think we can help each other live a better life than what has been designed for us.” She makes a fist in his hair. She doesn’t pull; her grip is still and firm. “But I need you to know. Never, and I mean never, try to abuse me for your entertainment again, you little shit. I will make you pay for it in ways you can’t even imagine.”

She pushes. Just enough for Larys to be unable to move his head, and to let him know she could drown him if she wanted. He reaches up and grasps for her arm, but she is strong from years of manual labor and he is just a skinny child.

“Stop it, Alys! Fuck!”

“Did you understand what I said?” She says, flatly.

“Yes! Let go of me, you fucking—”

“You what?” She pushes him a bit lower. His mouth is at a level with the water.

“Let go of me, sister!”

[isefyres-archive]

𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 (𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰)

Princess Shireen Baratheon: Shireen Baratheon is a noblewoman of House Baratheon of Dragonstone, and is the daughter and only child of Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lady Selyse Florent. Greyscale has left half of her left cheek and most of her neck covered in cracked and flaking, grey and black stony skin. She has suffered from nightmares since infancy. Stannis's army and retinue travels from Dragonstone to the Wall to respond to the wildling threat. At the Wall, he leaves Shireen at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea with her mother, while his army marches to Castle Black. After her father's death, she remains in the North under The North care and request to be send to Dorne to her cousin, wanting to refute her father's claims about Myrcella. Canon. Song Era.

Lord Edric Dayne: Edric Dayne, also known as Ned, is the Lord of Starfall and the head of House Dayne. His father, Gwayne Dayne is the elder brother of Ser Arthur, Lady Ashara, and Lady Allyria Dayne. Edric serves as the squire of Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven. Edric's mother did not have enough milk for him when he was born, so he was nursed by Wylla, a servant at Starfall. At some point, Edric was told that Wylla was the mother of Jon Snow, the bastard of Lord Eddard Stark. Edric attempts to befriend a wary Arya during the brotherhood's travels, and her friend Gendry is scornful of their interactions. Ned tells Arya more about his family, and he is surprised that her father never spoke of Edric's aunt Ashara committing suicide over her broken heart. Ned hesitantly tells Arya that his aunt Allyria told him that Ashara and Eddard fell in love at the tourney at Harrenhal. Edric is back in Dorne. Canon. Song Era.

Edric Storm: Edric Storm is the bastard son of King Robert I Baratheon and Delena Florent. Edric is a sturdily attractive youth, with jet-black hair and deep blue eyes. He resembles his father, King Robert I, and has the characteristic hair, eyes, jaw, and cheekbones of House Baratheon. Edric also has the large ears common to House Florent. Edric was conceived by King Robert I Baratheon and Delena on the wedding night of Lord Stannis Baratheon to Selyse Florent, Delena's cousin, in the couple's wedding bed. Stannis saw this as an insult to his honor, so he sent Edric to Storm's End to foster with the boy's other uncle, Renly Baratheon. As Delena was a noblewoman, Edric was acknowledged by his father. Edric sails across the narrow sea past the Stepstones to Essos on the Mad Prendos with Andrew and other protectors. He is hiding in Lys. Canon. Song Era.

Mya Stone: Mya Stone is a young woman serving House Royce of the Gates of the Moon. She is the eldest of King Robert I Baratheon's bastards. Mya serves as a guide on the treacherous rocky climb from the Vale to the Eyrie, leading trains of mules, such as Whitey. She also transports foodstuffs from the foot of the Giant's Lance to the Eyrie. Mya is somewhat openly known to be the bastard daughter of the king, although she was not acknowledged by her father. She has vague memories of him, as a big strong man tossing her in the air and catching her. Myranda Royce reveals to "Alayne Stone" that Mya lost her virginity to Mychel. Mya still hoped for marriage, till the newly-knighted Mychel was ordered by his father, Lord Horton Redfort, to marry Ysilla Royce, daughter of Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone. Canon. Song Era.

Gendry Baratheon: Gendry is a blacksmith apprentice for Master Tobho Mott in King's Landing. He does not know he is a bastard son of King Robert I Baratheon until later when captured by Melisandre and the truth is revealed, his blood used in a ritual. Gendry looks like a young Renly Baratheon, albeit with a squarer jaw, bushier brows, and tangled hair. He has since been legitimized and inherited all titles held by his father before Robert became king, and appointed the new Warden of the South. Gendry is not the eldest of the bastards and by all means, he supports his "sister" Myrcella for lady of Storm's End but he also reclaims his sibligns as his own, rebuilding House Baratheon under a new sigil, changing the colors to the inverted ones, considering the house is now mostly bastards. Canon. Song Era.

Joy Hill: She is the bastard daughter of Gerion Lannister. According to her cousin Jaime, Joy is a sweet child, but a lonely one since her father Gerion disappeared. As part of the pact between Lord Tywin Lannister and Lord Walder Frey concerning the betrayal of Robb Stark in the Red Wedding, Joy is to wed a natural son of Walder from House Frey once she is older. After the siege of Riverrun, Lady Sybell Spicer mentions to Ser Jaime Lannister that his late father, Tywin, had promised a bride from Casterly Rock for her eldest son, Ser Raynald Westerling. Because Sybell mentions "joy", Jaime thinks Tywin intended for Joy Hill to marry Raynald. Sybell is angered at the idea of her son marrying a bastard. Joy would prefer the handsom Raynald as a husband. Eventually, Joy is send to Dorne alongside Myrcella new sworn sword so she would become less gloom and safety. Canon. Song Era.

[chloesreality]

Delena and Steroline fans are so delusional LMAO about the asks 😂😂😂

frr heavy on delena and I would say “it’s just preference at the end of the day” but I can’t and I won’t because why would anyone wanna be in a relationship like that? I will never understand

bro even damon admits that together they are not good for eachother, not the best versions of themselves:

+ why would you stay in a relationship with someone who killed your friend because of something you did that he didn’t like 💀 like bro id be so scared to reject him or do something he’s not okay with because this is how he reacts EVERY time:

and yk what’s soooo sexy and cool? crushing your lovers hand so you get your way of course! why would it not be?! Am I right delena fans?

oh wait no, this is sexier

even though he was protecting her in this scene, after she finished squirming he still held her still and then proceeded to mock her and ask “are you done” like a child having a tantrum LIKE IM SORRY ARE YOU DONE FORCING HER IN PLACE WHEN SHES ASKING YOU TO LET GO?!

no delena fans are right about them being the better ship am I right? 💀💀

[andreal831]

Hello, just a fellow The Originals fan here. Do you think Jackson could have been a better character if the writers decided to make him part of Hayley's biological family, instead of a love interest?

I think as a brother, or even as a cousin, he would have worked better. He being so protective of her as a wolf in season 1 would make more sense, he would want to protect his long lost sister and unborn niece, instead of following her just because she's his fiancée.

Jackson would care more for Hope as he did her stepfather, maybe seeing her as a second chance, after not being able to protect Hayley in the past. Having lost his entire family as a child, he would relate to Hayley losing her child in some kind of way and definitly would not abandon her. After Hope's return, I could see him working with Elijah to make the wolves of the bayou their personal army (to avoid the wedding plot, maybe Davina o Freya could find a loophole and resolve the situation as such).

So... Sorry for possible grammar mistakes, this is not my first language, and... well, I'm waiting for your response

Hi love! Thanks for asking!

I absolutely wish we could have seen Hayley have actual family. She searched her whole life for her family and even sacrificed 12 of her friends for their location. Only to find them and essentially be rejected by them, except for when she has something to offer. I love found families, which is why I love her connection to the Mikaelsons, but I would have loved for her to build that connection with her pack. She began to have it with Eve, but after Eve was killed, we don't really see her build that bond with anyone else.

This is where the show failed to develop a love triangle. I don't like love triangles, but especially this one. Even when I don't like both ships, I can usually see why people are torn. But in order to make the audience torn, you have to make the character torn as well. We don't really see that from Hayley. She isn't torn between two men, rather torn between a man she loves and the simple life she wants. She likes the idea of marrying Jackson because he represents the life she could have had if her parents hadn't been murdered. And this is only after she is forced to even consider it in order to save her daughter. They didn't have to completely remove him as a love interest to make them have a better relationship. They simply needed to invest in the character/ relationship.

We can compare this to the other love triangle in this fandom. I liked early Stelena and can't stand Delena, but I can see why people ship them. People were shipping Delena since season 1, even when it seemed that Stelena was endgame. This is a successful love triangle. But people shipped them because we saw moments between Delena where he was vulnerable and she felt like she was the only one who could fix him. We could see them begin to develop feelings, even just familial ones. We don't get scenes like that with Jayley.

Every moment of vulnerability we see from Hayley is with Elijah or even Klaus. For Jayley to be a competitive ship, I needed to see moments where Hayley was opening up or Jackson was being vulnerable. I needed to see some connection between them other than just being from the same pack or being betrothed. I also needed to see Jackson understand that Hayley wasn't Andrea. He was so busy trying to "save" her from the Mikaelsons that he never realized how similar to them she was. They could have had her tell him about how she helped get 12 wolves killed and have him have to process/understand that, understand who she became because his grandfather killed her parents. They had a complex history and really could have been a complex ship. But we never get to see them share anything personal and develop that complexity.

Which brings me to your point. If Jackson had been related, it would have really changed the dynamic. Hayley would still feel torn between her family and the Mikaelsons but it wouldn't have been so difficult. We don't really see Hayley taking Jackson's romantic interest in her into consideration in season 1 at all. She really only mentions it to push Elijah to act. Other than that, we don't see any romantic connection. They basically were just family. But the real shift would be the hierarchy of the pack.

One thing I've mentioned that I hate about the Crescent pack is the confusing hierarchy. Part of this is due to the fact that the pack actually split in two and developed two different "royal" families. My other issue is the monarchy aspect. Packs are meant to be led by the strongest members, members who are chosen or earn it, it doesn't matter what family they come from. This is something they seemed to ignore in TO because they wanted to position Hayley and Klaus and King and Queen. I hated this. Hayley was always referred to as a queen, even having the pack kneel for her (ew), while Jackson is referred to as the alpha, not the king.

If they were related, theoretically, one of them would have a better claim to the pack rather than being from rival families. To me, Hayley or Aiden should have been alpha. We don't see Jackson ever step up for the pack the way we see Aiden and Hayley. In a normal pack, if the alpha runs off and someone else steps up, they would challenge that position. But here, Jackson just comes back and resumes his position. I would have liked to see a challenge. This is why monarchies are bad. They are allowed to rule no matter what they do, they don't have to improve or even try.

You're definitely right about the protective as a wolf thing though. I was always confused by what level of understanding the pack had as wolves. We are told in TVD that the wolves don't remember when they turn and don't have control. This is what makes hybrids different. But the Crescent Wolves seemed to remember their time as wolves and even control it. Maybe this is due to the curse or just one of many plot holes, who knows. But we already know that the wolves naturally are drawn to family. Ansel was drawn to Klaus as a child and then to Hope in his wolf form. That would have made sense for Jackson to be drawn to Hayley as his family and his wolf being protective. I don't think it would make sense to say his wolf was protective simply because of an arranged marriage.

It also would have shifted Jackson's motivations. To me, it felt like every interaction between Jackson and Hayley was motivated by Jackson's desire to fulfil his childhood dream of marrying his lost Andrea. It broke my heart for Hayley that the first chance she gets to meet her family, Jackson tells her he is disappointed by it and the rest of her family just ignores her. I would have loved Jackson to hold off on the obligations and just get to know Hayley. Maybe ask how she's feeling about being pregnant or offer her some stories about her (their) family. If he was biologically related to her, this would have been more of her focus. And to your point, he would have been more interested in the baby since it was his family. It would have been more impactful to see them bond over losing their family, of being forced out of their homes. They really did have a lot they could have bonded over but the show just didn't let them.

It would have made him take Hayley more seriously as a political leader of the pack, rather than just a potential wife. The pack was terrible at politics and part of this could have been because they lived most of their lives as wolves. They should have welcomed Hayley's experience and intelligence and even her connection to the Mikaelsons. Ironically, the pack had the arranged marriage because they understood it could help create peace between the warring packs. You would think they would understand Hayley's connection to the Mikaelsons could do the same thing. Hayley even bonds with Davina and could have gotten the witches on their side. They could have worked with the Mikaelsons and even the witches to come up with a better solution.

Another issue I have is that the unification ceremony gives the pack the power of the alphas, but why wouldn't Hayley just taking over the pack and them swearing their allegiance to her give them her power? The magic just felt so forced. There seemed to be a lot of better options.

Essentially, he didn't need another story line to be a better character. He needed better writing or more time.

Sorry this was so long but I hope I answered it all!

[ladystoneboobs]

@atopvisenyashill, oh, i don't blame you for the slip-up, just thought if we're trying to get into prince of melancholy mystery's head best to know when he was alive and when he was dead.

personally, i think any rhaelya wedding was more likely at her initiative, not his. being a wife instead of a mistress is the only sure way to escape an unwanted marriage, whether with robert or anyone else her father tried to give her to, possibly someone even worse. a lady known to be "soiled" can still be married off (eg, lysa tully, delena florent & ami frey), but there's less precendant for bigamy involving two husbands, forcing the wife to take a 2nd man. the practice of targ polygamy with 1 man and multiple wives may have died out but that's still a real precendent. (idt elia wouldve welcomed sharing her husband just bc she was dornish, and i hate that fandom assumption, but also idt it's unforgivable for lyanna to think something like that or want to believe the arrangement could work. she was a 15/16yo feeling desperate and her great judgment of character was only proven with people she'd actually met. who knows what, if anything, rhaegar told her about elia.)

the idea that the kg were only doing what they had to save baby king from kinslaying is frustrating not just bc they were escalating the conflict with every word looking for a fight while ned clearly was not, not just bc they couldve and shouldve known the risk of kinslaying by just talking to lyanna, but also bc yeah they shoulve just fled with infant and wet nurse if that were the case. why even risk ned killing them all and getting his hands on rhaegar's last child, as did happen, despite these legendary knights killing most of his men? if the baby's welfare was their top concern, either make him a king in exile, or try to assess ned's actual intentions toward his nephew. staying glued to the toj really is just asking for an ~honorable~ death above all. even if arthur had killed ned and howland, he couldn't stay there at his post forever just bc "kg do not flee" (false, somebody hadn't studied his white book covering the dance). sooner or later robert would find out and come with more than 6 other men, and then lyanna's baby really would be in danger. so, c'mon, like, what's the endgame for a living baby targ king there? ik i'm not buying they couldn't move yet while lyanna was still alive/dying, confined to her bed, not just bc their own words show no concern for her but bc they'd already proven with rhaella that duty to a king overrides duty to any of his female relations. if they really cared about saving rhaegar/lyanna's son rather than just dying for rhaegar, then they should have tried to actually live for that royal baby, not just kill in his name during a glorious last stand.

[kiss-my-freckle]

I'm gonna cover the Klaroline/Steroline issue because, while fans can ship who they want, they can't ignore what the writers wanted for their characters.

Caroline didn't belong with Klaus. Had they taken them beyong a romp in the woods, they would've ruined Caroline's character in the process.

Delena and Steroline have a shared parallel as it pertains to control. It obviously starts with Damon because Stefan doesn't fall in love with Caroline until later. Damon has a conversation wtih Andie about it in 2x13. He tells her he's in love with Elena, but frustrated in the fact that he's not in control. Elena basically renders him powerless, that's why he was nearly dying in a basement fire in 1x22.

Aside from destroying Caroline's character had they taken Klaroline further, Klaus wouldn't put himself in the position to lose control the way Damon does with Elena. Klaus sacrificed Elena for the sake of becoming the most powerful creature on earth, so it won't be just any girl that renders him powerless.

Stefan's loss of control has to do with vampires. We're talking about a person who's pure at heart, so he'd have a problem falling in love with a predator. When he fell for Valerie, she was human. When he fell in love with Katherine, he had no idea she was a vampire. He believed she was human. He had to be compelled to continue. Whatever you feel of his relationship with Rebekah in the 20s, his humanity was turned off. He wouldn't care that she's a vampire with his humanity turned off. That's aside from his 145 year relationship with Lexi, which never crossed the line of friendship. I guarantee it never crossed that line because Stefan can't love vampires. All of these relationships take place pre-pilot.

When the show picks up, he starts dating Elena. She's everything that Katherine wasn't. Human. When Elena becomes a vampire, he's desperate to fix her because he can't love her as one. When Stefan and Rebekah reignite, it's after she pushes him into this "I don't care" attitude that is very much Ripper. So even though his humanity is on, he's pushed to not care that he's sleeping with a vampire.Jump over to season 5, and he's having sex with Katherine, only she's human because she was force-fed the cure.

Caroline is everything as we hit the Ivy/Valerie of it all. Stefan is a lot like Elena. He doesn't wanna love Caroline just as Elena didn't wanna love Damon. But Stefan started falling for her before he lost Damon to the prison world. He used Damon's death as an excuse to remove himself from Caroline's life, to stop himself from crossing that line with her because she's a vampire. Because it's one thing for him to be friends with Lexi, and another to fall so deeply in love with a vampire that Stefan allows her to have that control over him. Control that Katherine once took by force via compulsion.

So, Stefan takes off to start over in a new life with human Ivy. Once Enzo turns her into a vampire, Stefan drops her on Caroline's lap. He has every intention of leaving town and starting over - again. Should he stay, he'd have to face what he feels for Caroline. Even though Valerie is a vampire, she acts as a distraction from Caroline. A vampire to distract him from the vampire he's in love with, much like Damon has a human Andie to distract him from a human Elena.

Caroline was the only vampire Stefan loved despite her being a vampire, that's how much control Caroline had over him. It's more realistic for the writers to have Stefan surrender control to a vampire than to have Klaus surrender control to just any woman. Klaus needed a love worthy of it, and they gave him one when they created Hope's character. The love of a child is worthy of Klaus' power. A power that Caroline would NEVER have over him. Keep him in check? Sometimes. Change him? A little bit. Him willing to die for her? Absolutely not. Had Stefan survived, he and Caroline would've been forever. She'd never end up with Klaus. They have a term for what Klaus is to Caroline. It's called a sugar daddy. "I'm too smart to be seduced by you." Sex is as far as she'd go with him, and they went there already.