#armie hammer is innocent
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Please share this so that everyone knows the truth about what really happened to Armie Hammer.
The rush to judgment and subsequent, nearly-instantaneous cancellation of Armie Hammer without any substantive evidence of any wrongdoing, based solely on allegations from biased sources, is worthy of a much broader discussion about the media’s willingness to intentionally mislead the gullible public by societal peer pressure to promote certain specific agendas.
#armie hammer#armie hammer is innocent#support armie hammer#YouTube#james kirchick#interview#the auxoro podcast
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The truth is coming out!
#armie hammer#support armie hammer#i am here for armie#armie hammer is innocent#i stand with armie hammer#house of hammer
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“Perhaps the physical and the metaphorical meanings are clumsy ways of understanding what happens when two beings need, not just to be close together, but to become so totally ductile that each becomes the other. To be who I am because of you. To be who he was because of me.”
Andre Aciman, Call Me By Your Name
#armie hammer#timothee chalamet#armie x timmy#support armie hammer#call me by your name#cmbyn sequel#fanart#armie hammer is innocent#armie x timothee#eliver#oliver cmbyn#elio x oliver#elio perlman
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Hope you had a great birthday Armie!!
#me myself i and yours truly#appareils-futiles#armie hammer#i support armie hammer#armie hammer is innocent
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😄😄😄
#armie hammer#support armie hammer#innocent until proven guilty#supportarmiehammer#Armie come back please
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rip Patrick Bateman you would have loved Armie Hammer
#armie hammer#patrick bateman#american psycho#cannibalism#all I remember is him asking to eat some woman’s toes and it sent me into shock#rip call me by your name#innocent Timmy in call me by your name to Timmy eating people in bones and all
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Do you follow what’s been going on with Ricky Martin? Anyways, last week his nephew accused him of sexual assault and molestation. So Ricky took him to court, like, immediately, and the nephew withdrew their accusations. See, this is how innocent people react.
Yes, I was shocked when I heard the allegations as I've been a semi-fan since his Menudo days. It was such a shocking case and made my stomach turn to imagine it was true. But it quickly became apparent that it didn't seem to ring true and Ricky's quick action to rebut and fight back really made it apparent it was a false accusation. Innocent people fight for themselves. They don't hide and sit passively hoping it all blows over and everyone just forgets about it.
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The bullshitter is calling out the bullshit!!
Calgon, take me away!
#armie is innocent#armand hammer#armie hammer#armie#armand#hammer#discovery#discovery plus#house of hammer
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WHAT IS IT WITH SKIZZ AND THE NUMBER 3???
I don't get it man, this guy. THIS GUY. He just CAN'T SEEM to escape the number three. Don't believe me?
What about the fact that he's died 3rd every single series he's been in? Yep, both in 3rd life and in last life, this man died third. And in the exact same way too, foolishly charging into the enemy with no plan other than bloodshed. Which fails.
What about THIS????
LIKE YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT A LITTLE BIT SUS. IN 3RD LIFE TOO. 3RD LIFE. WHERE THE FIRST 2 KILLS WERE HIS.
What about the fact he's only ever had 3 lives assigned to him?
What about the fact that in B.E.S.T, S is the 3rd letter?
What about the fact that he missed Double Life, the 3rd season of the Life Series??
What about the fact that because he missed Double Life, he’s been apart of 3 seasons of the Life series???
AND NOW. WHAT ABOUT THE FACT THAT IN SESSION 1 OF LIMITED LIFE, HE DIES 3 TIMES IN THE FIRST SESSION????
LIKE WHAT IS HIS DEAL??? WHY IS HE SO HAUNTED BY THE NUMBER 3??? HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING????
And I mean, he's usually portrayed as an Angel in fanart. and 3 is considered a holy number. The Rule of 3, the Trinity, and its symbolism in numerology... (yes that's a thing. don't ask me how I know.) It all ties together. And it ties together to the man whose heart is too big for his head. To the man who, despite all the flair, has never killed in anything but self-defense, in the service of another. To the guy whose entire schtick so far in Limited Life is not to kill, but to appreciate the time he has and the people he's around. To the guy who's drawn as an angel.
I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE A CONSPIRACY THEORY AND IT MIGHT BE BUT LIKE, YOU SEE IT DON'T YOU??? THE PATTERNS???? IT'S INSANE. I DON'T GET IT.
Now idk what you could do with this as like a design thing. Could have like a third wing sticking out of his neck so he'd have 3 wings? Could have a halo with 3 rings? Idk man, I ain't the artist, but I feel like there's potential here.
Could also have Dove symbolism? Y'know, doves and angels, doves usually being associated with peace and Skizz having a very nonviolent and more negotiating approach. I mean he spared both Scar and Bdubs in 3rd Life, he chose mercy when really, he could have killed them together with the Red Army. And after Skizz dies is always when everything goes to true shit. After his death came the final battles of Dogwarts in 3rd life. After his death, the Wither was summoned in Last Life and everything fell into slowly decaying chaos.
First goes the canary, the first warning that time has run out. Second goes an innocent other, to hammer in that there's no return. And to complete the rule of 3, the dove follows the canary. The death of peace, a final warning. That now there will be no more.
im a little insane about skizzleman okay.
#LOOK IM JUST LOSING IT#THIS GUY#THIS MAN.#GOOD LORD WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS????#I KNOW I SOUND LIKE A LUNATIC BUT I HAD TO SAY SOMETHING#skizzleman#3rd life#last life#limited life#limited life spoilers#life series spoilers#trafficblr#life series#3rd life smp#last life smp#limited life smp#my writing#i know i sound insane EGLOESGSLH
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I know everyone loves Jaghatai's roasts of the other Primarchs, as they SHOULD, but Angron doesn't get nearly enough for his fucking takedowns of Guilliman and Russ.
“What would you know of struggle, perfect son? When have you fought against the mutilation of your mind? When have you had to do anything other than tally compliances and polish your armor? The people of your world named you "Great One". The people of mine called me slave. Which one of us landed on a paradise of civilization to be raised by a foster father, Roboute? Which one of us was given armies to lead after training in the halls of the Macraggian High Riders? Which one of us inherited a strong, cultured kingdom? And which one of us had to rise up against a kingdom with nothing but a horde of starving slaves? Which one of us was a child enslaved on a world of monsters, with his brain cut up by carving knives? Listen to your blue clad wretches yelling courage and honor, courage and honor, courage and honor! Do you even know the meaning of those words? Courage is fighting the kingdom which enslaves you, no matter that their armies outnumber yours by ten-thousand to one. You know nothing of courage! Honor is resisting a tyrant when all others suckle and grow fat on the hypocrisy he feeds them. You know nothing of honor!”
and of course
Angron had laughed, the sound rich and true. ‘Such pretty lies! We fight for the same reasons men have always fought: for land, for resources, for wealth and for bodies to feed into the grinders of industry. We fight to silence anyone that dares draw breath and whisper a different opinion from ours. We fight because the Emperor wants every world in his hands. All he knows is slavery, painted in the inoffensive cloak of compliance. The very notion of freedom is a horror to him.’
‘Traitor,’ Russ hissed.
Angron stood tall, still grinning. ‘Do we give choices to those we slaughter? A true choice? Or do we broadcast that they must throw their weapons into the fires of peace and bow down, faces pushed into the mud like beggars, thanking us for the culture we force upon them? We offer them compliance or we offer them death. How am I a traitor, wolfling? I fight as you fight, as loyal as you are. I do the tyrant’s bidding...
I am loyal, the same as you. I am told to bathe my Legion in the blood of innocents and sinners alike, and I do it, because it is all that’s left for me in this life. I do these things, and I enjoy them, not because we are moral, or right – or loving souls seeking to enlighten a dark universe – but because all I feel are the Butcher’s Nails hammered into my brain. I serve because of this “mutilation”. Without it? Well, perhaps I might be a more moral man, like you claim to be. A virtuous man, eh? Perhaps I might ascend the steps of our father’s palace and take the slaving bastard’s head.’
God, Angron could have been the true hero of 40k. Of all the Primarchs, he was the only one that truly valued freedom and saw The Emperor for what he was
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I can't imagine what it's like for Armie to sit next to that bitch... even for the sake of kids. And after all, he has to communicate with her, resolve issues, keep a face and be nice when the children are around. But essentially, she wanted to kill him, put him in jail, take away his reputation, the children and all the money. Terrible, I wish her the very worst
Hello, Anon:
It occurred to me very recently that there might be some serious mental health concerns that factor into Armie’s willingness to co-parent with someone who did something so clearly reprehensible to him.
He said he would do ANYTHING to keep his kids safe. Sad to say it, but keeping a close eye on their mother might fall into that category.
This recent story in her IG looks like a flex but it’s actually a neon sign highlighting her lack of understanding about the fundamental basics of parenting, imho. The goal of parenting is to raise our kids to need us less and less as they grow. She seems to conflate neediness and insecure attachment with love. Our kids can love us without telling us constantly in lunchbox love note replies written our own handwriting or humblebrag text messages about being “missed” on an ordinary school day in IG stories*.
*this could also indicate that she sees them less than she wants people to think in her IG stories.
This is not a sign of a healthy attachment. She seems not to understand this.
While Armie might have every right to cut her out of his life, they share two children and that’s simply not an option at this time. He accepts that she will have to be a constant presence in his life while the kids are still young, but in their case, I get the sense that it’s more about ensuring their kids’ safety around her. She’s already proven to be vindictive and ruthless, capable of the worst acts of revenge.
He is, above all else, a loving father who can put his kids’ needs above his own, for their health, safety, and well-being. The same cannot be said for their mother. There are many examples of this fact on her IG account to prove it.
What choice does he have but to do what he must do, especially if she is unable to care for the children in a healthy way but not (yet) deemed unhealthy enough to deny her that right?
Armie most likely views this unfortunate situation through the lens of compassion, due to her mental instability, for the sake of their children. His love and devotion to them as their father and protector gives him the strength to co-parent as well as he does with someone who probably wanted him dead, and tried everything she could to push him in that direction.
Thanks for your comment. ✨💙👨👧👦💪✨
#hello anon#armie hammer#good man#great father#kindness and compassion#love and forgiveness#strength and wisdom#friends close#enemies closer#extraordinary mother#mentally unwell#keeping his kids safe#armie hammer is innocent#support armie hammer
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Someone on Twitter did this.
There’s links to lots of information on Liz, Effie, Paige… their lies and inconsistencies. I think it can help when you are discussing with someone who has no ideia of the facts involved in Armie scandal. Give them the link and maybe they start to realize they were fooled by gossip media and Elizabeth’s actions.
https:// keep .io / armiefacts
#armie hammer#support armie hammer#i am here for armie#armie#i stand with armie hammer#armie hammer is innocent#timothée chalamet
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No words. Just popcorn.
💙💚
#armie hammer#timothee chalamet#armie x timmy#support armie hammer#armie x timothee#cmbyn sequel#armie hammer is innocent
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dial drunk - tommy miller
fandom: the last of us (tv show and video game)
wc: 2,703
warnings: alcoholism and mentions of alcohol abuse, drunk character, maybe PTSD? pre-outbreak. no use of specific pronouns.
summary: tommy calls you in the middle of the night, hammered and asking for a favor.
inspired by noah kahan’s dial drunk. author’s note at the end.
masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi
Tommy knows the drill.
He’s been here enough times to recognize the officer pulling him over, asking after his wife and kids as he steps out of the truck on unsteady feet. He’s all Southern charm and pleasantries as he fails his breath test and is unable to walk in a straight line for the officer to see.
“Come on, man,” he says, aiming for placating and pretty much landing it. He’s not his mama’s favorite for nothing, getting out of trouble Joel would’ve been grounded over when he was his age with big cow eyes and flimsy excuses. “Paperwork’s shit, right? Lemme make a call and someone will take me off your hands for the night.”
The officer tightens his mouth into a grimace, unconvinced.
“Look, if this gets nowhere then I’ll ride with you nice and quiet,” he bargains with as much honesty as one can convey when being the youngest boy in a nice Catholic Texan family. There aren’t better credentials than those when pleading your innocence. “I’ll even play it up in front of your boss to make you look good, yeah? Just one call, promise.”
Hook, line, and sinker. The officer’s shoulders drop a little and he’s offering his cell phone for Tommy to call. “One call. Then you’re done.”
“Yessir.”
Tommy grins innocently as best as he can with double the legal limit of alcohol in his blood and a phone between his ear and shoulder. The man stands there with his arms crossed looking like he’d rather be anywhere but bringing his ass in for a DUI at two AM on a Wednesday.
“‘lo?” you call sleepily, finally picking up. Tommy doesn’t restrain his victorious grunt. “...Tommy?”
“Hey, sweets,” he slurs a little, clearing his throat. “Sorry for wakin’ you. I need a favor.”
“Tommy,” you say again, tired. If Tommy were any less drunk, he’d realize it’s not lack of sleep that has you sounding like that. He’s shitfaced and thinking about the monumental kick in the ass waiting for him at home when Joel realizes he hotwired and stole his truck to get a drink at the nearest bar.
“I know, I know, listen,” he cuts you off before you can say anything else, sneaking a look at the officer’s crossed arms and disappointed stance. “You remember the way to the precinct, right? From last time?”
Last time, when Tommy got into a brawl outside a bar he was not supposed to be in, and accepted your worried fussing with barely concealed annoyance, gripping your wrists and taking your hands off his bruised face. You’d driven him to your place because he’d promised Joel to steer clear of trouble for at least a few months, and his breath still reeked of alcohol by the time you came to pick him up.
You told him then you weren’t doing this again. But you always say that. And you always come when he calls.
Your moms had grown up together in Texas and were ecstatic about the fact that their two littlest ones would come into the world so close together. You and Tommy were inseparable because the universe had dictated it– and nothing could interfere between you. Not his dad dying when he and Joel were still too young, not Tommy having to repeat fifth grade and no longer sharing a classroom with you, not you going off to college and Tommy joining the army straight out of high school.
But then he came home. And he came home different.
The shit he’d seen overseas was nasty, but that’s not what drove him to drink himself stupid every night. At least that’s what he thinks. Soon his habits began seeing the light of day; vodka mixed in his morning coffee and hidden in a water bottle during lunch with the boys at the construction site. Life became a blur when he was drinking and an agonizingly slow nightmare when he wasn’t.
Joel wasn’t the first to notice but he’d been the first to say something about it. Next time you come to my home reeking of a cheap ass bar in front of my kid I’m kicking your ass out. I’m serious, Tommy. This shit has to stop.
And Tommy had believed him. So he turned to the next person he knew that would do anything for him. You came home from college despite your dreams to outrun this town, and soon it was your number he had memorized even when his brain called it quits and left him alone in his blackouts.
“I do,” you say, and Tommy’s already thinking about sleeping it off on your sorry excuse of a couch. It’s a slow night, only a couple of drunken bums sleeping off their hangovers in a quaint police station in fucking Arlington, Texas. But Tommy would take your couch any day, even if it means fucking up his back for the rest of the week. “But I’m not coming to get you, Tommy. Call Joel.”
“Sweetheart,” he croons into the phone, low and mellow like he’d talk to pretty girls at parties in high school. The same ones you’d go to only because he begged you to come with, acting like a jealous boyfriend when someone wouldn’t leave you alone. “Please. I’ll pay you back, you know I’m good for it.”
He’d put a possessive arm around your waist, standing behind you and smiling icily at whoever was pestering you. We got a problem here?
There’s silence at the other side of the line, sheets rustling. Tommy can picture you sitting up, phone to your ear, biting the inside of your cheek nervously.
More like Joel is, but hey. He took the big brother act to heart the second Tommy was born. He’s been bailing him out of shit as long as Tommy’s been alive, why would tonight be any different?
Joel, who’s always told him, first jokingly and then not so much, that you were too good for Tommy. Too smart, too kind, with too much integrity for someone like his little brother.
The older Miller had taken a liking to you pretty soon after Tommy did; wiping the dirt off scraped knees and your tears from chubby child cheeks after placing a bandaid with gentle, unsure fingers. Giving you a ride when you insisted on walking home, leaving the back door open for you whenever being home got too rough for you.
That man knew you’d be the best thing to ever happen to his brother in his entire life. Too bad the idiot didn’t realize it, pushing your limits until you couldn’t take it any longer.
“I’m not bailing you out of jail, Tommy,” you sigh, annoyance creeping over the hesitation in your tone. You were never good at saying no to him, even when you were both in diapers and Tommy wanted your dinosaur plushie so bad he threw a tantrum until his mom took him in her arms. “When I said last time was the last time, I meant it. I’m sick of this shit.”
“Come on,” he scoffs, saying your name in a way he knows you hate, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “I’ll give you a kiss and everything. You still like that, don’t you?”
“Fuck you,” you snap on the other side of the line. He knows you well enough to know what buttons to push. Reminding you of your first kiss is a trick he’s never, never pulled on you before, though. “Don’t fucking say that, don’t use that against me.”
You’d been seventeen and without a date to the prom. The guy you were thinking about asking had laughed in your face when you offhandedly mentioned going together and Tommy had refused to let you sulk alone. He’d climbed into your room through your window and wrapped his arm around you the second your lip wobbled, tears wetting your cheeks.
Tell me who I have to kill, he’d said before you ever told him what was wrong. He’s always been like that, hot-headed and protective, especially when it comes to you. Willing to fight anyone who’s ever slightly wronged you but not realizing when he’s done it himself.
You laughed into his shirt, snotty and miserable as he tightened his grip around you. Come on, sweets, fuck that guy. Like he’s even good enough for you.
You confessed with a burning embarrassment how you’d seen yourself kissing him– more out of the need to get your first kiss over with than actual want– and Tommy’s face had gone through a bunch of complicated emotions before settling on something sweet, shy, resolute. He’d thumbed at your chin thoughtfully, fingers just barely brushing over your bottom lip.
Tommy had his first kiss when he was thirteen with Amy Hill behind the church his mother dragged them to every Sunday morning, but you’d never seen him that nervous. He failed to look into your eyes as he stuttered out his suggestion. If you wanna get it out of the way then maybe– I don’t know. Why not do it with someone who actually cares about you?
You’d looked at him in scrutiny as if you’d never taken a good look at him before. He self-consciously thought about his fair skin and his freckles, if his hair was still a mess from football practice, and if his breath smelled somewhat okay after having that sandwich for lunch.
You offerin’, Miller?
Yeah, he’d said instead of something stupid like haven’t you heard? I’m a catch. He murmured bashfully, finally meeting your eyes. Yeah, sweets, I guess I am.
He’d licked his lips and drew a path with his fingers from your temple to behind your ear before cupping the side of your jaw, breath hot. Just– punch me in the face or something if you don’t want to.
You hadn’t. He’d closed the gap between you and you kissed him back slowly, hesitantly, diving back in again after he drew away. He was too short of breath for a chaste kiss that had lasted a couple of seconds, and the second time around his tongue flickered past his lips. Your hands on his shirt tightened in response, a helpless sound leaving your mouth that neither of you had been expecting.
He hadn’t known about your crush then. Maybe that’s when it first started, some Tuesday night with a kiss in your childhood bedroom, but Tommy doesn’t remember ever becoming aware of it. He just knew, suddenly, and enough things had happened in the in-between from then to now for him to consider using it against you.
His drunken brain thinks differently, though.
“Don’t be like that, sweets,” the nickname had never bothered you before, born out of Tommy watching too many old movies one night the babysitter failed to show up and Joel fell asleep on the couch. You’d never questioned him when he started calling you that, probably liking it a little too much for it to be a friendly thing between you. “You can act all high and mighty next time, alright? Just come pick me up before Joel realizes he ain’t got a ride for work tomorrow mornin’.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you curse vehemently. You haven’t been to church in the years you’ve been back from college, much to your mama’s dismay. “You know what? Whatever. That’s Joel’s problem now, not mine. Call him.”
“I’m asking you for a favor,” he says through gritted teeth, suddenly irritated. His characteristic charm is gone just like that. “Why are you being so fucking difficult?”
“I’m done watching you wreck your life, Tommy,” you say with finality. He scoffs pettily. “I’m not picking up again, tonight or ever. Call Joel.”
A click. Then nothing.
He says your name and the dial tone laughs back at him. And Tommy–
Tommy can’t actually believe it. He takes the phone off his ear and stares at it, dumbfounded, like looking at it long enough will get you back on the line.
He hears the officer blow air out his mouth and the evening suddenly comes into sharpening clearness; the cold November air biting at his face, the taste of whiskey in his mouth. His hands are sweating from where he’s gripping his phone, the tag of his jacket is rubbing uncomfortably against the back of his neck.
You’ve never hung up on him before.
“That it?” the officer asks with the lack of patience that’s characteristic of the night shift.
“I– what? No, no,” he shakes his head, already dialing again. “Just– just give me a second.”
“Night ain’t young, man,” he grumbles, already reaching for his cuffs. Tommy takes a step back, suddenly out of his depth. “One call. Time’s up.”
“I’ll– I’ll go okay? I’ll go, just let me– let me call again,” the trembling of his fingers has nothing to do with his current state– Tommy feels like every single drop of alcohol has vaporized from his blood and now he’s left cold and in trouble and alone.
Fuck. Fuck, you’d never hung up on him before.
He calls again, once, twice, before the officer finally loses his patience. “Alright, kid. Whoever you’re callin’ they don’t wanna answer. You can have your one phone call at the precinct. Get someone else, though, huh?”
Tommy doesn’t want to. Tommy shouldn’t have to, a sudden rush of self-righteous anger washing over him with enough force to gridlock his entire body with tension. His jaw tightens and teeth grind together, his shoulders straighten into a taunt, painful line, holding onto the phone so tightly it shakes, the shapes of it making indentations on his skin.
How dare you? How fucking dare you? Friends since fucking birth, does that mean nothing to you? Now you’re throwing him away like a fucking dirty rag?
Call Joel, you had said, and Joel is enough of an asshole to keep Tommy in the can overnight to teach him a lesson, but you? You two have always looked out for each other, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go–
“I don’t have all night, buddy,” the officer gets his hands on him to take back his phone and beckon him to the car. Tommy flails as an automatic response, fighting back against the unwanted touch. But whether he feels like it or not he’s still drunk and in the blink of an eye he’s got his face against the hood of a police car, red and blue lights hurting his eyes, and a tight hand around the back of his neck keeping him somewhat still.
The officer mumbles something about Tommy causing more trouble than he’s worth and ain’t that a popular opinion tonight? “You’re gonna cause yourself any more trouble, son?”
Tommy snorts. Son, like the guy’s not just a couple of years older than him. He’s pretty sure they crossed paths once or a hundred times back in high school.
The ride to the precinct is as uncomfortable as it gets. The heat in the car isn’t working so Tommy’s freezing his ass off in the back of the car, handcuffs digging into his wrists. His nose is bleeding all over his clothes, and hurting like a bitch where the officer had to punch him when Tommy’s fight response wouldn’t quit.
And you, in the back of his mind. He pictures you asleep after his little interruption and his anger is enough of a fire inside of him to drown out the disbelief, the blatant hurt that threatens to kill him more than his broken nose does.
He’ll pop the thing back into place later in the cell but this? You? As the hours pass by and clarity regains its home in his awareness, he doesn’t see a way around this. A scenario in which he calls again and you listen, where you talk to him and he doesn’t feel like you kicked him to the curb over fucking nothing. A few drinks. A favor. Best friends, his ass.
He’ll keep calling, though. Even if he has to spend the night in jail because you don’t pick up. He’ll dial drunk until he dies, just for you.
______
tommy u silly little goose
since noah’s album came out last week i’ve had this song on repeat and i desperately wanted to write a fic about it. idk why my mind instantly went to tommy. i’m thinking of a post-outbreak sequel but i won’t confirm anything until it’s actually in the works.
thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! the lack of tommy fics is astounding to me, especially since gabriel luna is one of the most beautiful and talented men i’ve ever seen.
reminder that commissions are open and support is always appreciated!
<3
#tommy miller#gabriel luna#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#reader insert#leo writes#tommy x reader#tommy miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal
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On Daeron
Daeron "The Daring" Targaryen is often heralded as being the most stable of Alicent's children and even fairly well adjusted. I disagree with this idea. We know very little about Daeron from the book, and what we do know doesn't paint a very stable picture.
We know Daeron was born around the same time as Jacaerys, making them the same age. Viserys hoped raising them together would help heal the rift between the two families, he was wrong. Daeron grew to have a great rivalry with Jace, and the forced proximity only grew his and his older brothers' hatred of the Velaryons. He was sent to Oldtown when he was twelve to squire for Lord Ormund Hightower, and there he stayed until the Dance began.
So already we've debunked one of the popular headcanons I've seen written in fics. Daeron wasn't the "nice brother", he hated the Velaryons just as much as Aegon and Aemond. We also know that he didn't get away from Alicent and Otto's plotting when he got to Oldtown, if anything it was exacerbated. Daeron was now in the snake's nest, his life now completely devoted to the anti-Rhaenyra ideas his mother was devoted to.
Once the Dance began, Daeron helped win some battles for the Greens, but was purely the puppet of Ormund, never leaving his army. Then came Tumbleton. When Daeron came Lady Caswell and her husband's land, he mercilessly burned it to the ground and massacred the people. He did try to get Lord Hobert Hightower, who had succeeded Lord Ormund when he died during this battle, to stop the brutal sacking of the town, but he was ineffective.
After this, there was much turmoil in the ranks of the Hightower army, as Aemond was dead and Aegon was missing. There were arguments over succession and Daeron supported a plot to kill Ulf White and Hugh Hammer. Before this could happen, Ser Addam Velaryon attacked and killed Ulf and Hugh along with their dragons, dying in the process with Seasmoke. Daeron was killed when his tent collapsed on top of him when it caught fire.
Now what do we learn from these events? Daeron can be just as cruel as his siblings, raining fire down on the innocent smallfolk of Tumbleton. We also know that at sixteen, he had less control over his troops than Jace did. Daeron is not any better than the rest of TG, yes he's younger, but he committed atrocities and hated Rhaenyra and her family simply because he viewed them as inferior.
#daeron targaryen#anti daeron targaryen#daeron the daring#anti team green#house of the dragon#team black#asoiaf
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