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turtleduckie · 5 years

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I have so many questions about your Queen Rhaenys AU? Who does she marry? Does she marry Viserys but they still have lovers on the side? Is dany Around. Can she marry two people? (She deserve it). Does Rhaenys discover the Mystery of Rhaenys and the letter to Aegon? DO she find Aegon Crown? How does she uncover the mystery?

I'm actually leaning more towards Rhaenys going the Queen Elizabeth I route. That does pose a lot of problems and instability in her rule but she manages to make it work for the most part. Rhaenys isn't too keen on the Targaryen practice of inbreeding and the obsession with blood purity, and as only Rhaella and her children survive of that practice, Rhaella also not encouraging it adds to her decision to not take any of her close relatives as her husband.

Factions who want to overthrow Rhaenys of course want to use Viserys, Aegon VI, and/or Jon. Some of her advisors whisper in her ear to wed any of them to solidify her rule but Rhaenys refuses. Viserys weds Arianne Martell and goes to live in Dorne, away from the poisonous whispers in King's Landing. As Jon and his mother are banished to the North and forbidden to step outside of it (as Elia decreed after Lyanna swore off any claim to the throne) that puts aside the threat of Jon for now. But the most dangerous of course is Egg.

Now as I've said before Egg has renounced his claim to the throne but that doesn't stop people who want in on the cake and who doesn't take too kindly with having a Dornish-looking woman as their queen from plotting to put him back on it. Rhaenys' advisers tell her that if she doesn't want to marry anyone from the other Houses, fine, but she has to marry Egg or he will constantly be used against her. He is the greatest threat to her rule. Rhaenys loves Egg truly but not enough or in the way that would make her want to wed him. Egg loves her as well and thinks the world of her. He still does not desire the title of king. He is loyal to her but of course one's personal feelings and allegiance are dwarfed by the plotting and scheming of everyone in the whole seven kingdoms. But Rhaenys still has to deal with the threat that Egg's claim poses and to pacify the other lords and Houses so she mulls over his betrothal prospects (with the prime candidates being Sansa Stark of Winterfell and Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden). But that is a long story that will tie back again to Jon and the North.

As for her lovers, I haven't really thought about that since I've been preoccupied with the political plotting in this AU. But you're welcome to headcanon it! (Actually everyone's free to headcanon/write stuff for this AU, my thoughts are just mine own. Don't forget to tag me though so I can read them!)

So Daenerys. I admit I'm still thinking over the trajectory her life follows with all the changes in this AU. As she is far enough on the line of succession, she is granted more freedom than the rest of her relatives. As she (and Viserys) are raised alongside Rhae and Egg, they form a close bond. Rest assured she is alive and well and mostly happy.

When she was younger, Rhaenys asked about the first Targaryen Trio since it had been her father's obsession to recreate them and she was named after the first Rhaenys. Elia and Rhaella told her the story but Elia emphasized that she and Egg (and well, Jon) are different from the Trio and will not suffer the same fate (this last one more for Rhaenys' benefit). Elia told Rhaenys that she is her own person and thus she will carve out her own mark in history.

(As for the mystery of the first Rhaenys, I'm partial to the theory that she was captured and tortured by the Ullers and the letter to Aegon said that she would be granted the mercy of death if he respects Dorne's independence. As the current Rhaenys has her hands full with managing a fractured kingdom, the mystery of her namesake doesn't way too heavily on her mind. Add to that her mother's words about being her own person, the current Rhaenys is much immersed in the present and the future going forward.)

So my headcanon about Aegon I's crown is that the Dornish have kept it in secret for generations ever since the fall of Daeron I in Dorne. When a daughter of Dorne has finally ascended to the Iron Throne, and especially someone as worthy as Rhaenys has proven herself to be, they found it fitting to crown her with it. Rhaenys has two coronations basically. The first one when she came of age, and the second when had quelled the major uprisings (and made up with Jon) and both her brothers crowning her, effectively showing that they are yielding their claim to the throne and thus solidifying Rhaenys' rule beyond the shadow of any doubt. It is for this second coronation that Dorne presents Aegon the Conqueror's crown for their Queen.

(Many many things still happen after this coronation, including Rhaenys' true lasting legacy though it would seem at that time to be the wrong decision that brought about the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty.)

#Queen Rhaenys AU #ASOIAF AU #draqonelle #thank you for the questions #if you have more just keep them coming #and I meant what I said about the headcanons #y'all can tag me on them!

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arielseaworth · 5 years

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draqonelle replied to your post “All men are sinners, the Fathers of the Faith teach us. Even the...”

To me Jahaerys represents the paradox of the great man theory of history. Jahaerys from a boy knew that to get what he wanted out of life he had to be well loved. How much of who he became was linked to his desire to marry his sister? How much of his own wants and desires had to be erased. Can we ever know if he was a good man? Or just a charmer like Daenerys or Renly Baratheon. We can't know him.

Is Dany just a charmer though? I don’t see it that way, to be honest.

I don’t think Jaehaerys was just a charmer. His public accomplishments were real. I just don’t think that those accomplishments, no matter how significant they were, should have the effect of erasing the damage he caused in his personal life.

#draqonelle

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dornishsphinx · 5 years

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Mirrors for Princes

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you, draqonelle ^_^ I’m your @gotsecretsanta, and here’s your gift! It focuses mainly on Baelor Breakspear and Daemon Blackfyre--I certainly have more appreciation for this particular generation now that I’ve done more research on them for the fic, so I suppose I really ought to thank you for mentioning them in your request, ahaha.

I hope you enjoy the fic--I certainly enjoyed creating it!

[AO3 LINK]

King’s Landing, 182 AC

Most bastards would not have presumed themselves important enough to pair off with the heir to the Prince of Dragonstone for a training exercise. Even fewer would have suggested it themselves with the air of someone doing someone else a favour, and, even among those brave enough to do so, there were all but none who would have dared cause him injury.

For better and for worse, Daemon Waters was not like other boys. Despite his bastardy, he was every inch Princess Daena’s son, her drive, haughtiness and pride made all the fiercer for being crammed into his twelve-year-old frame. Baelor had never known him well—Grandfather made a point of rarely calling Father to the Red Keep—but he’d always had the impression that Daemon thought himself a prince in truth as well as in his mother’s estimation.

Nonetheless, said boy was unusually quiet as the two of them stood together in one of the shadowy corners of the training yard. His violet eyes, as perfectly Valyrian as one might imagine the Conqueror’s, were fixed on Baelor’s nose and his attempts to staunch the blood as it trickled down his philtrum and onto his upper lip.

“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was careful, neutral; it was quite unlike his usual self-assurance.

Baelor swiped below his nose. Some more red came away.

“An impressive hit,” said Baelor. He brought up his sword. “Ready to go again?”

Daemon frowned. “It still doesn’t look right. It could be broken.”

Baelor laughed. Wouldn’t the other squires just love it if you could mar my oh-so Dornish face? Even Ser Ball, who was currently distracted by correcting some other boy’s hopeless stance in time for tomorrow’s mêlée, might have looked the other way; Fireball was Daemon’s primary instructor, after all, and snow was a more common sight in King’s Landing than the sons of Daeron.

“A very impressive hit, then.” He flicked his sword back in Daemon’s direction. “Ready?”

“I’m not going to fight an injured opponent.”

His expression was as offended as a septa’s after having been asked how many men she’d had. I’m the one with a mouth full of blood, but of course, you’re the wronged one here.

“I’m not so fragile.”

There had been too much talk spreading through the halls of the Red Keep and beyond on the physical capabilities of his father’s branch of the family for Baelor to avoid hearing it: slanderous talk of a soft-bellied man—the Dragonknight’s get, yet-braver fools claimed—with too-Dornish sons, by their very blood craven and duplicitous. No, though his nose stung, there was no option but to finish the training session: anything else would just be firewood for the gossips.

“Should you not still see the maester?”

Baelor swiped at him; it was a warning rather than a feint, giving him plenty of time to backstep out of reach.

“Trying to save your own nose?”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed; he stalked back out into the sunlight and readied himself. Baelor smiled thinly and followed him, briefly entertaining the thought of smashing his nose in during the second bout to even the score. He decided against it almost immediately. Pettiness had never been one of his faults.

And even if the result had been a broken nose, it was a delight to have someone competent his own age to fight against after months sequestered on Dragonstone.

It was only after the training session was truly over and done—though Fireball had Daemon remain behind for further instruction—that Baelor went to find Grand Maester Alford. He was informed, in the sort of scolding tone only someone who’d delivered him into the world could use with a prince, that he indeed had a broken nose. The compress he was instructed to keep on it overnight had been itchy, but the lurid story Alford had relayed to him while he’d mixed the ingredients together—according to him, he had a sister who hadn’t bothered to take care of an injured nose and now had a hole in her face where it had once been—had flashed through his mind each time he’d thought to take it off.

Father, who had never been one for martial activities anyway, had despaired at him upon learning about what had happened. He’d even been hesitant to let him attend the tourney, considering that some of the court would be in attendance, but had relented when little Maekar’s disappointment was leveraged against him. Maekar had asked Baelor to recount every detail of the martial tournaments at the capital when he returned, a far easier request than Aerys’ insistence that the Red Keep’s library be scoured for a surviving copy of Barth’s Unnatural History and that it be copied for him to read back on Dragonstone, or Rhaegel’s dreamy desire for a dragon egg.

And so it was that the two of them sat together in the royal section of the stands along with Princess Daenerys, awaiting the beginning of the squires’ tourney.

The pain in Baelor’s nose was now more a dull ache, while the pleasant weather and Daenerys’ presence had lifted his spirits exponentially. The rest of King’s Landing must have been fetid, but it was hard to imagine here; servants had been hard at work during the night, bringing flowers and perfumes to protect the lords and ladies from any stench that managed to drift its way uphill. And, oddly enough, it did seem as though the entire court had turned out; some had even brought with them exotic fans to show off from across the Narrow Sea, much to the envy of their peers sweating around them.

Daenerys was sweet and soft-spoken as ever, if alarmed when she’d seen what had happened to his face; it had taken some time to fully reassure her that he wasn’t about to keel over. She’d been placed in the shaded area of the royal stands to protect her pale skin from the sun and when he’d seen her sitting there, half-shadow, Baelor had recalled the occasion a few years ago when Mother had gifted her with a fine piece of red Dornish silk, as scarlet as the Targaryen dragon and Martell sun. She’d demonstrated for her the way it was worn around the head and shoulders back in Sunspear; no dragon should fear sunburn, she’d laughed, before helping the little princess drape it around herself. Daenerys had seemed well pleased at the time, though he’d not seen her wear it since. Grandfather’s doing, no doubt. He has ever hated Dorne.

It was as the thought of Grandfather crossed his mind that the king’s herald came forth and hailed his arrival. Baelor’s heart sank.

I hoped he’d still be sleeping off last night’s feast.

He tried to school his face into blank politeness, just as Father and Mother did every time they had to interact with the King. Grandfather sank into the seat of honour, barely glancing at the suddenly silent Daenerys and himself, and outright ignoring Father’s polite greeting. At least not bothering to acknowledge our presence means he’s not likely to notice my nose. He demanded that his cupbearer bring him wine, and had already started leering at one of Lord Butterwell’s daughters by the time the tourney was to begin, trying to coax her onto his lap—or worse, the Queen’s seat—when the squires made their entrance onto the field.

Without meaning to do so, Baelor’s eyes settled on Daemon as the combatants came forward to bow before their King. It was easy to pick him out from among the rest in his Targaryen-black armour. Princess Daena had a hand in its creation, no doubt. His back was straight and his posture that of someone assured in their victory. He was near the front of the pack, and so Baelor, from his vantage point, could see how his eyes steadily moved across the stands, taking in the crowd. He looked away before Daemon’s gaze could catch onto his own.

Grandfather was waxing rhapsodic through his wine-haze about the squires’ future duty towards the crown and the realm, and Baelor found his attention drifting away. Why is it always those who don’t know the meaning of words that counsel others to follow them whole-heartedly? He only realised the tournament begun when the squires moved away, the first two jousters vaulting onto their horses and walking them over to the tilts. A few wore their sweethearts’ tokens. Daemon had no such token, though he destroyed every boy who rode against him nonetheless. So much for the power of a woman’s favour. With every tilt, Baelor grew more and more frustrated.

He’s not invincible, but none of them bother to find his weaknesses, let alone exploit them. If I rode against him, I could unseat him. I would unseat him.

Then was the mêlée, and there he found his frustrations turning into a reluctant admiration. He tried to pay attention to the spectacle as a whole, for Maekar’s sake if not his own, but still he often found his gaze being dragged back to Daemon’s black form. There were some slips, here and there, but he made each movement look beautiful and powerful all at once while the other combatants struggled to keep up; he might have been the Warrior cutting through a mob of smallfolk.

As Baelor found himself glancing back at him once again, Daemon slashed at one squire with his blunted sword, then swivelled and slammed it viciously into the face of another who had tried to sneak up behind him. The squire shrieked as red began pouring down his face. Daemon paused—an abrupt thing, compared with the fluid dance of destruction that he’d been weaving across the field—and his head turned towards the royal section of the viewing stands. Grandfather hummed approvingly, but it was Baelor, with the half-guilty sensation of someone caught staring at a pretty girl, who felt unseen eyes meeting his own. Somehow, even with the helm hiding his face, he could feel it when Daemon smiled at him.

The moment lasted until another squire thought to take his chance. Daemon smacked him away and moved back into the fray, not stopping until he alone was left standing amid a field of groaning bodies. The stands erupted into cheers as Daemon removed his helm, and as he did, silver-haired and beautiful, he looked every inch a scion of House Targaryen.

This was an unbalanced fight. The feeling sat poorly in his stomach as the King declared Daemon Waters the winner, all the admiration and pride he’d never bothered directing towards his own grandsons clear on his face. None here even came close to Daemon's level of skill; none had anything to counter the years of training he’d received from the best masters-at-arms in the land. The King, surprisingly energised now, declared that the victor’s grand prize would be presented to him in the Grand Hall, before the entire court, and that he was to travel back to the Red Keep with the rest of the royal family. The latter would no doubt have been a great honour to someone who hadn’t received the luxuries of royalty his entire life already, but Daemon already seemed pleased enough with winning for winning’s sake.

Together did not entirely mean together, of course; Grandfather would hardly have fit in a litter with anyone else, though he’d pulled Lord Butterwell’s daughter into his own even so. Poor girl. Thankfully, the litters were covered, so only she was witness to whatever horrors lay under his finery. Everyone was privy to the noises coming from the litter, however, and as Baelor peeked out in front, he saw that the litter-carriers were doing best they could as their burden shook and writhed in their hands. Their faces were determinedly neutral, though on occasion one would cast envious glances back at the other litters coming in procession behind them.

They deserve more gold than they’re getting. As does she.

Baelor leant back and pulled aside the curtain to his left out of curiosity: both Father and Daenerys’ curtains were still closed over. He then pulled open the right, only to see that Daemon had left his fully open. Can’t let the people forget who won, I suppose. He looked curiously pensive, even troubled, though the expression melted into his usual overconfidence when he turned his head to meet Baelor’s gaze.

“I told you that your nose was broken,” he said.

“You did. Congratulations on your win.”

Daemon grinned.

“There was nothing to it. Really, I don’t mean to sound arrogant,” he said, sounding arrogant, “But half of them didn’t even know what they were doing.”

Half of them haven’t had private lessons with Ser Quentyn Ball their entire life.

“Is that so?”

“Really, I had a harder time against you yesterday than I did during the entire mêlée.” Baelor hadn’t expected praise. He paused, trying to think of a response, but Daemon didn’t wait for one. “You know, you’re really nothing like your namesake.”

It was clear from his tone that this was meant as a compliment of the highest order.

“My namesake was a king of the realm,” said Baelor.

“Your namesake was so afraid of the gods he locked princesses of the blood in a tower when he could have had them. He would rather have seen them rot than live a full and happy life, and for that, he was called The Blessed.” If Baelor thought he’d seen glimpses of Princess Daena in her bastard son before, now he could hear her loud and clear in the anger bubbling through his words. “Can you imagine such a thing? A pious fool.”

It felt wrong to agree with him out loud, and he was conscious of his father, not a few feet away. “Do you not fear the gods, then?” he asked instead.

Daemon scoffed. “You should learn to take a compliment.”

He turned his head back to the view over the city, their conversation clearly done. Baelor let his own curtain fall, and for the rest of the journey back, there was nothing but muffled shrieks and laughter, and the distant sounds of the city beneath them. Still, when they reached the Red Keep and they descended from their litters, Baelor found himself catching hold of Daemon’s sleeve.

“Don’t think you’ll win all your battles without a fight.”

Daemon’s head had whipped around the moment he’d felt Baelor’s touch, and now those violet eyes sparked with interest. “And why wouldn't I?”

“I’ll be there next time.”

Truthfully, he had no idea if he’d be there or not, considering how little Grandfather cared for his presence, but he’d be damned if he’d ever again sit idly in the stands and watch Daemon Waters walk over the competition like dragonfire against a field of wheat.

Daemon laughed, a tension Baelor hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying in his shoulders fading.

“Well, I welcome the challenge, cousin,” said Daemon, that brash confidence of his fully returned. “Now what say you we get to the Great Hall? I’m half-starved; the sooner I receive Uncle’s accolades and we can eat, the better.”

Every morsel Baelor ate that night would taste of nothing but ashes and bitterness, but since the dragon dreams, like the look of old Valyria, had never been one of his inheritances, he just grinned, clapped Daemon on the shoulder, and heartily agreed, hurrying them along the corridors of the Red Keep towards the court, and towards where the King sat waiting, Blackfyre on his lap and twisted intentions in his heart.

#draqonelle #gotsecretsanta #baelor breakspear #daemon blackfyre #asoiaf #house targaryen #it's a lot harder writing daemon than i expected considering he's basically a rorschach test #his real personality is all mixed up in pro and anti blackfyre propaganda so we only really have his actions to go off #so this is basically my interpretation of him (as a twelve year old)#also 12yo baelor is a lot brattier than his older self here haha #dornishsphinx fanfiction #valyrianscrolls

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samwpmarleau · 5 years

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I took the overblown ridiculous amount of horrific misogyny as a horror fiction. Using Excessive and Irrational amounts of misogyny to overwhelm his readers,and create a hellscape for women,as a form of social commentary on our sexist society. Using his skills as a horror writer to create a lethal misogynistic society to get us to analyze our modern sexist society.Historical accuracy has never been important to him, he turned the "dial up to eleven" to make us readers suffer. Could it be satire?

No, it’s not satire. To begin with, ASOIAF is simply not a satirical series. It’s a fantasy series based on “””real””” European history, specifically the War of the Roses. On top of that, F&B is labeled “The Complete History of House Targaryen,” it’s supposed to be an in-universe non-fiction book, just like The World of Ice and Fire is. Thirdly, do you really think he’d spend 736 pages writing satire on modern misogynistic society? GRRM?

GRRM who cares so little about “unimportant” women like Lyarra Stark to the extent that when asked her name he said, “Lady Stark. She died.” (The only reason we know her name now is because he needed to put something on the Stark family tree.)

Or the fact that when asked (just last year!) about whether Loreza Sand is named after the as-yet-unnamed mother of Doran, Elia, and Oberyn, he said, “I think you’ve given this a lot more thought than I ever did.” We know the name and backstories of every other one of the Princess of Dorne’s contemporaries, but we don’t even know her name, all because GRRM doesn’t care enough to give her one.

Or the fact that he echoed his Lyarra Stark answer in The Hedge Knight when Egg replies, “My mother’s dead, she wouldn’t say anything,” and that’s literally the only mention we have of Dyanna Dayne other than her name in the family tree, despite her being the wife of one of the central characters of that book, the mother to three more, and also the mother of Maester Aemon, who is in every book of the main series.

Or any of a hundred other examples. GRRM just doesn’t care. He not only doesn’t create the same rich stories for women as he does for men, but he kills them off in undignified, gendered, sexualized, excessive ways for no reason. Yes, there are a handful of well-written women. But the majority of them are still subjected to needless bullshit. Arya says, “The woman is important too!” but at basically every turn, GRRM indicates that no, they’re not.

You mention historical accuracy not being important to him, but it is. His entire schtick is that he supposedly is a student of history, that he wanted historical realism. Which means either his research was shoddy, or he decided to take the Hollywood narrative in the case of women being raped and dying in childbirth and becoming afterthoughts once they’re no longer attractive, just because he wanted to.

GRRM did not write Gyldayn to be some kind of commentary on modern society’s ills. It’s not like the book is simply Gyldayn’s opinions or something, GRRM is writing facts. It is a fact in the world of ASOIAF that all these women were brutalized and died in childbirth. If he wanted to create a commentary, he’d have added in some opposing views or made the majority of the women really strong characters just like the male characters; Gyldayn could still dismiss them or whatever, but the facts would be different.

We don’t get that. We get the opposite of that.

#draqonelle

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avatarsymbolism · 6 years

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🔥 Rhaegar Targaryen.... come for his life

Not quite unpopular but:

WHY THE HELL WOULD HE NAME HIM AEGON!? THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

And on that note, “the war was built on a lie”? Are you fucking kidding me? Sure, let’s just ignore the part where Rickard and Brandon went south to demand Aerys tell Rhaegar to give back Lyanna only for them to be both murdered in turn.

And the part where Aerys demanded Jon Arryn to send him Eddard only for Jon to raise the banners against his king.

#rhaegar targaryen #aerys targaryen #asoiaf #game of thrones #commentary #commentary: other #draqonelle #ask

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jaimelannisterthings · 5 years

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@draqonelle liked this for an insult

“If that is a request, my king, I would rather not watch--”

“--surely, the less eyes witnessing such behavior, the better.”

#draqonelle #[burn them all: Aerys II]#v: Before the Whispers

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jeynewesterling · 6 years

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I believe Varys told Tyrion the truth about how he became a Eunuch. Has Varys told anyone lies about how he became a eunuch?

The eunuch paused a moment. “My lord, you once asked me how it was that I was cut.”

“I recall,” said Tyrion. “You did not want to talk of it.”

“Nor do I, but …” This pause was longer than the one before, and when Varys spoke again his voice was different somehow. “I was an orphan boy apprenticed to a traveling folly. Our master owned a fat little cog and we sailed up and down the narrow sea performing in all the Free Cities and from time to time in Oldtown and King’s Landing.

“One day at Myr, a certain man came to our folly. After the performance, he made an offer for me that my master found too tempting to refuse. I was in terror. I feared the man meant to use me as I had heard men used small boys, but in truth the only part of me he had need of was my manhood. He gave me a potion that made me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses. With a long hooked blade, he sliced me root and stem, chanting all the while. I watched him burn my manly parts on a brazier. The flames turned blue, and I heard a voice answer his call, though I did not understand the words they spoke.

“The mummers had sailed by the time he was done with me. Once I had served his purpose, the man had no further interest in me, so he put me out. When I asked him what I should do now, he answered that he supposed I should die. To spite him, I resolved to live. I begged, I stole, and I sold what parts of my body still remained to me. Soon I was as good a thief as any in Myr, and when I was older I learned that often the contents of a man’s letters are more valuable than the contents of his purse.

“Yet I still dream of that night, my lord. Not of the sorcerer, nor his blade, nor even the way my manhood shriveled as it burned. I dream of the voice. The voice from the flames. Was it a god, a demon, some conjurer’s trick? I could not tell you, and I know all the tricks. All I can say for a certainty is that he called it, and it answered, and since that day I have hated magic and all those who practice it. If Lord Stannis is one such, I mean to see him dead.”

Tyrion X - A Clash of Kings

I have to say I agree, I don’t think Varys was lying. Most significant evidence of this to me is the fact that Tyrion notes the change in his voice. He’s a mummer by trade and training and we’ve seen him use those skills numerous times. The notion that his tittering persona is just another disguise is a solid interpretation, if not outright canon. He’s playing the role of The Spider, Master of Whispers, moving the pieces while concealing his true motivations. However, this, indicated by the voice change, feels like a crack in that facade. This isn’t Varys talking about The Realm or any of his political plots. As far as I understand this passage, none of this hints towards any of his goals regarding the fate of the realm or who will end up as king or anything like that. This is 100% personal, which is rare, if not outright unheard of, from Varys.

I suppose it could very easily be a “Do you wanna know how I got these scars?” Joker-esque type move on Varys’ part, and if someone has that interpretation, I’d love to hear it.

But to me, this comes across as the closest thing Varys has to a moment of honesty and vulnerability.

#draqonelle #varys #asoiaf #meta #ish

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calamity-guild · 6 years

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draqonelle replied to your photoset “I have only one otp.”

Wouldn't it be adorable if Helper left his house to visit with Helper? All the way to New York city. Only to die thanks to someone misinterpreting his helpfulness in the way that humans project and think everything is about them

lemme live, dawg.

#draqonelle #fanworks don't have to be that deep

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lesbianhanguangjunji · 5 years

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23. Unpopular character you love?

honestly in this fandom, i think renly counts as an answer to this question

#asks #draqonelle

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cirilee · 7 years

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My aesthetic: You ever see that scene where the tough mean little guy is standing behind the strong nice guy, and the nice guy is making a scary face, but the little guy thinks he scared the bully away. This is the essence of Fentonald. It has only failed once, but Darkwing Duck is a crack pot and you shouldn't cut a line to the movies. Also, I yearn to see Gizmoduck pick Donald up by the shirt collar stop a fight. As only a GIzmduck could lift the mighty DONALD DUCK like a kitten. a Kitten!

that is a cute idea :’D

#cirileeart #duck avenger #gizmoduck #fentonald #draqonelle #cirileeanswers

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donaldtheduckdad · 7 years

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How about Launchpad McQuack?

Launchpad was taken by Deepie but I still want to talk about my precious pilot boy! (I’m not over the fact that you kinda ship Delpad, too @heythatsdeep)

Thanks for the ask btw! I’m gonna answer your other one later

1: sexuality headcanon

Bi. Bi. Definitely Bi.

2: otp

*coughs* I think I mentioned *a few* times that I really, really ship Launchpad x Della? DELPAD IS LOVE. AND LIFE.

3: brotp

I have so many! LP and Dewey. LP and Donald. LP and Drake. LP and Fenton. (and platonic Delpad, too) He’s everybody’s friend.

4: notp

LP x sadness/depression/angst/not allowed to pilot a plane

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

He’s secretly planning on making Dewey his pilot successor.

6: favorite line from this character

Almost everything he says? “I’m a pilot!” for example. I couldn’t stop laughing (also I love his voice)

7: one way in which I relate to this character

He’s passionate about what he loves to do… and he’s a dork.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

Uhm. Sometimes LP… does things. The mole monster incident. And… I just recall a silly lil dance he does in the OG series and I was between second embarrassment and awe.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

CINNAMON ROLL.

#ddd answers #launchpad mcquack #draqonelle

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peachhoneii · 7 years

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How about Ludwig Von Drake?

Sexuality headcanonI suppose he’s straight, but I never really thought about his sexuality. He’d only have a romantic connection when an emotional bond has been formed.

OtpMatilda McDuck. I blame Don Rosa for this one, and one fabulous, unfinished fic.

BrotpLudiwg and Scrooge. It’s hilarious. He’s kind of a motor mouth, and Scrooge is so very, very tired.

NotpNot really? I never really thought of notp with the ducks. I guess any…way off field like Donald and Ludwig? But really, do you peeps.

First headcanon that pops into my headWas Scrooge’s Head of Research Technology in the past. He was the first one and was Gyro’s mentor.

Favorite line from this character“Because he was stupid! That’s why.” His voice is to die for. I love his voice.

One way in which I relate to this characterI tend to ramble too when excited about something.Thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character.None. I can’t think of a single thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about Ludwig Von Drake.Cinnamon roll or problematic faveCinnamon Roll from top to bottom.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #asks #ludwig von drake #draqonelle

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ladymalchav · 5 years

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1. I literally tagged it ‘arrested development’

2. it’s the repeated viewings from the internet that has embedded it so deeply in my mind

bold of you to assume I don’t know what I’m talking about

#meme #replies #draqonelle #tlw

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samwpmarleau · 6 years

Text

draqonelle replied to your post “draqonelle replied to your post: Do you ever think...”

Well she did suffer abuse at Dragonstone and Kingslanding from everything from culture shock to straight up beatings. It might be in the spirit of the question. One of the gravest crimes Rhaegar commits on Elia, is letting his Father take her. His father who is a monster who hates her. I think that is really understated by the fandom. Would you leave your post-partum wife in a bear cage? Why would you leave her with Aerys, after pissing off Aerys by being an idiot?

Beatings?? When was Elia beaten?? Unless you’re referring to her rape and murder, which I would term far more than a beating. Also I wouldn’t term living in a culture different from your own as abuse. That’s certainly not any one person’s doing. If anything, being far away from the poison of King’s Landing and running her own household was pretty good, given the circumstances.

Elia is only post-partum when Rhaegar leaves initially, and that was on Dragonstone, not King’s Landing. It was many, many months later, perhaps even close to a year, afterwards that Aerys commanded her to come to King’s Landing and I think it’s safe to assume he didn’t run his plan of taking Rhaegar’s wife and kids hostage by his son beforehand. By the time he left for the Trident, I wouldn’t call Elia post-partum anymore (unless you’re using the term simply to mean she had given birth at one point).

But like I’ve stated before: Rhaegar simply didn’t think they were in danger, because he thought they--just like himself--were integral to the prophecy. Not even the gods could harm them, or so he opined. Rhaegar was delusional and his miscalculations disastrous, but he wasn’t some psychopath who delighted in leaving Elia (and everyone else) in harm’s way.

and as for TYrion I doubt SHE was ableist... but there was a lot of bad blood between the grieving Tywin and the Princess, if TYwin ignored Joana's wishes to pair off their childre, (TYwin was supposed to be pussy whipped according to the text, why wouldn't he listen to her wishes) Its not her sole motivation but a mild irritant on both sides.

I don’t believe it was Joanna’s wish to pair off both children to Martells. That’s just poor planning no matter which way you slice it. You don’t commit the future of your house to one other house, that’s silly. Especially when the broader plan was to make Cersei a queen. Queen is a far cry from a Dornish princess who would never ever rule anything, which is what the case would be if she’d married Oberyn.

I also object to the term “pussy-whipped” both on the grounds that it’s derogatory and gendered, and the fact that it’s simply illogical. Tywin was his own person. Just because he had a partnership with Joanna and they shared the same worldviews doesn’t mean she was his puppeteer.

The bad blood was completely on Tywin’s part. He refused what seems to have been a pretty iron-clad verbal betrothal--the ship the Martells came in on had a spare room primed for Jaime--which is a Big Deal in this series and in real medieval times. Not only did he refuse, in exchange for the Princess of Dorne’s highly eligible, only daughter, he offered his 16-years-younger, disabled child that he himself despised. That’s a serious insult, especially given what the original plan was.

Yet instead of making any individual reprisals, the POD simply continued on her quest to find Elia the best match in the realm. And she found it in the crown prince. Ain’t her fault Tywin wasn’t able to lock that down. The fact that Tywin was so self-centered as to think everyone’s actions revolved around him is not her fault either. It also ain’t her fault that despite Tywin’s assertions that Elia would surely die in childbirth--she didn’t.

It was a completely one-sided feud. Tywin didn’t get what he wanted, so he took it out on an easy target then couched it in patriotism.

BUT YET AGAIN--

None of that has jackshit to do with Rhaegar, which is what the original ask was about, so this is wildly off-topic.

#draqonelle

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