#to be in a queer relationship with a queer woman and to still have your gender expression and how you show up

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Lars' character has, from day one, been an insecure teenager (so, a teenager— being insecure is pretty much par for the course). We see this showcased in episodes like "Lars and the Cool Kids" and "Horror Club."

Even in "Off-Colors," the episode where Lars dies becomes pink, his moment of courage only comes after we see him internally struggle against his own fear, where he reassures himself that it's okay to be afraid... only to immediately get killed. (Side note: I wonder if Lars of the Stars will address that Lars did, in fact, die. I can't imagine that's something that he has already fully processed and made his peace with.)

Being a teenager is already a time where a lot of things are changing— your relationship with your family; the way other people see you and treat you; your position in society; your own wants and needs, hopes and dreams; even parts of your identity as fundamental as your physical body and the way that you feel and think about things. It's a time that is already wrought with so much confusion about your identity and how you fit into the world, and Lars, who was already dealing with that typical teenage insecurity, now has to completely recontextualize virtually everything about his life.

Steven Universe and Steven Universe: Future are both shows that dive pretty deep into the themes of change and the discomfort that it can bring, especially when viewed through a queer and neurodivergent lens. The episode "Alone Together," for example, does a great job at portraying how scary, difficult, and confusing things like puberty and growing up can feel— the way everyone suddenly starts treating you differently, even though you're still the same person, can be jarring and upsetting. (I know that when I hit puberty and people started treating me like a woman and expecting me to behave as such, it made me deeply dysphoric, but I tried my hardest to fit those expectations, even to my own detriment, because that's what I thought I had to do in order to maintain my relationships that were changing because of something I couldn't control.)

Point being, it would be shocking if Lars of the Stars didn't show Lars having a moment of insecurity like this: a moment where he has to confront who he is now versus who he used to be; versus the expectations he had for his own life; versus the expectations his family had for him. And I can't wait.

Theres so many things that I would love to see in the spin off, but I will be happy with it regardless of how good or bad it is, so long as it has at least one comment towards Lars' physical state.

One comment from a stranger asking what the hell he is or confusing him with a gem

Or one comment Lars makes to himself regarding his new form and how weird it is to exist like this

Just a single moment please of Lars, questioning what the hell he is anymore, discovering the new things he can do, excited for his potential or maybe even fearing it. A moment of him remembering he has a slow heartbeat. Or a moment of staring in the mirror to remind himself what he looks like whether he has accepted it yet or not. I just need an update on how he may be feeling about all this

One moment like that and I will be happy

[vsa-pieldepapel]

To give credit to suselle, while the writing might not end up being stellar, if it were to become canon it'd be an explicitly lesbian relationship in what's by all intents and purposes a mainstream game despite being indie developed. While the fans are a little annoying, that's still huge. Normalising a relationship between two girls for younger audiences is an amazing thing

(I don't disagree with your thoughts for the record. I'm just saying like. Suselle being canon might not be satisfactory for true susie appreciators but it'd be a net positive overall imo)

Man I’m not ~representationbrained~ enough to gaf about that lol. If you want a better done lesbian teenager relationship luz and amity owl house do that. Representation does not offset bland writing with flimsy bases and it feels almost patronizing to make the one relationship that is explicitly demonstrably homosexual inoffensive and lame and stagnant.

Alphys and Undyne are suselle but not shit, given at least there is the implication that undyne is aware of and considerate of alphys’ self esteem issues and suicidal tendencies, adding a layer of complexity and emotional intimacy and earnestness, and Undertale is similarly T rated.

My 1st priority is tell a good story. Rep is better when it’s backed by that rather than existing for the sake of existing. Ssa people want good stories too. That’s the reason why tumblrs woke jerkoff stories where everyone is queer trans demiflux polyamorous grey sexual with did and 3 sets of pronouns per character bio ultimately flop and have no audience. A compelling character will always defeat a maximum representationbrained one.

And like you say its a disservice to the character of susie and I will act smug and superior about it bc many people claim to love her but still clean up her harder edges, downplay her gnc and dysfunctional coping mechanisms, and are hostile to real women who share traits with her aka being rude, defensive, “masculine” which I know from firsthand experience … so like. What do I care what they think.

I (based and cultured) know in my heart kris is a very gnc female person who discovered bisexuality via a baby crush in Noelle and is potentially experiencing it again via Susie and lesbian krusie and lesbian kriselle OBLITERATE susienoelle from my bisexual woman perspective on what I want in yuri so. lol

[torontolesbian]

.

[unhingedaccuracy]

Do you ever talk to someone and want to ask. Why are you like this go meet more gay people that would probably help

[the-n109-zone]

TW: racism, ableism, homophobia, stalking, bullying, problematic developer

I didn't originally intend to publish this, but after seeing one specific post made by galacticglados, I felt it was time to speak out.

queenlilithprime / restartheartvn is a horrible person and you should not support them.

I have documented and provided screenshots of every post linked here. This means that even if Lilith deletes something, I will still have evidence. I have also screen recorded their entire vent blog, racism blog, and some of the other blogs they've engaged with for future reference. So there will be no excuse for faking screenshots if the original source can no longer be found. For even more security it might be good to reblog posts you find important to preserve them as well.

First, proof "princessofhollowness" is their venting side blog.

Here is Lilith's post talking about creating a new blog to vent on.

Most of the reblogged posts on princessofhollowness have been liked by their main blog, queenlilithprime. This proves it's a side blog since you can only like posts from your main blog. Similar to that, Lilith interacts with the same group of friends on their vent blog.

Below are screenshots of reblogged posts that have been liked by Lilith's main blog. You can find so much more than the ones I listed by visiting princessofhollowness and looking through each individual post yourself. (one two three four)

According to former friends of Lilith, many of the personal experiences shared on their vent blog can be backed up by personal events shared on their discord and main blog. Out of respect for their privacy, since these posts are personal, I will not share screenshots. But you can still find them on their vent blog.

With that out of the way I want you to remember that whenever you see "princessofhollowness" in any of the screenshots, it's one of Lilith's side blogs.

Proof "galacticglados" is another side blog.

Another thing I need to establish is that "galacticglados" is another side blog created by Lilith, as I will be referencing it periodically.

I want to highlight that Lilith's typing style and formatting are similar to those used on their second and third side blogs.

Going a step further, Lilith has previously interacted with the creators of the blog "creatingblackcharacters" on their main account and is familiar with the owners. This will be relevant later. (one two)

Furthermore, all the posts found on galacticglados align with the stalkerish intentions directed toward the creator of the blog "14dayswithyou," which I will elaborate on later.

They showed ignorance as a developer and made homophobia accusations towards the developers of Love & Deepspace.

Lilith has labeled the developers of L&DS (Papergames and subsequently Infold Games) and its fandom as homophobic and shitty without conducting any research or providing evidence of their claims. They made most of these claims on their developer accounts, which has many impressionable followers. (link)

If they did their due diligence as a developer with a published game of their own, they would know that China has significant censorship issues, especially regarding LGBT+ relationships and queer men. Games will be blacklisted and unplayable in China if they don't meet specific conditions. It is absurd to condemn an entire studio and call them homophobic simply for adhering to the laws of their country and not allowing BL content to jeopardize everything they have built.

Additionally, it's well known that L&DS is an otome game designed primarily for women. Lilith expects a massive company to violate Chinese laws by allowing BL content, which would then undermine the intent of the game and take away from a product created for women. If L&DS were a BL game instead, it would not be appropriate to make the main character a woman to be more inclusive.

They have spoken poorly about the developer of YOU and HIM behind their back.

UnknownHermit is the creator of YOU and HIM and was originally part of Florescent Red Studios, a developer studio co-owned by Lilith and @stnaf-vn. I don't have much to say except that discussing a friend's or employee's issues behind their back in a public setting is a shady practice for a developer. (link)

The second screenshot is proof that YOU and HIM had ties to Florescent Red Studios. The context of the tweet is unrelated.

They have shown stalkerish behavior regarding 14 D ays With You.

Lilith has an obsession with digging up old posts made by 14dayswithyou and scrutinizing them for any flaws. Some of 14dayswithyou's posts date back several days to over a year, yet Lilith continues to stalk their socials daily and scroll through hundreds of posts just to find any kind of infraction they can complain about. I recommend looking at princessofhollowness and any other blogs they've interacted with to understand what I'm talking about. (one two three four)

They are obsessed with the downfall of 14dayswithyou to the point where they weaponized and used creatingblackcharacters to reach their goal.

Now that I've provided evidence that princessofhollowness belongs to Lilith and highlighted their stalker-like behavior towards 14dayswithyou, it gives more context to the posts found on galacticglados.

As I mentioned above, Lilith actively criticizes everything the creator of 14dayswithyou does on princessofhollowness and has even commented on their inability to draw Black people accurately, despite two of the characters not actually being Black. It's no coincidence that they raised the same issue on galacticglados and attempted to launch a smear campaign to avoid facing backlash on their main blog. (one two three four)

Lilith has complained about the 14dayswithyou server on princessofhollowness and again on galacticglados, which is even more proof they run both accounts. They have also interacted with this post a few hours prior to posting something related on galacticglados, which is interesting. (link link)

They're a racist who assumes all dark-skinned people are Black.

Two characters mentioned in this post were mistakenly assumed to be Black despite their ethnicities never having been officially confirmed anywhere. Although they have non-Black features, such as their eye color and hair texture, Lilith still claimed they were 100% Black and submitted this information to the creatingblackcharacters blog with harmful intent.

A friend sent me a screenshot of the creator confirming that the characters are actually intended to be South Asian. So there is no excuse for Lilith trying to perpetuate racial stereotypes about Black people.

They're ableist and made a horrible joke about cancer.

Lilith jokingly remarked that people who are racist should get skin cancer. They later apologized for this comment, but in the big year of 2025, making such a joke is simply not acceptable. Ironically, while Lilith spoke about immediately calling out racism in their original post, they lacked the courage to actually do so on their main blog and instead addressed it on galacticglados. Below is the cropped and full version of the same post since it is lengthy. (link)

They're a virtue signaller who tries to get in the good graces of mainstream accounts despite being a hypocrite.

Lilith supported proshipping after reblogging a statement from @fantasia-kitt, despite stating "no proshipping" on their blog and not apologizing for banning my friend on discord for liking similar proshipper content found in fantasia-kitt's game, The Kid At The Back. (one two)

Lilith only interacts with developers who are popular or have a large following, and never smaller developers. This is seen with fantasia-kitt above as well as @sourmiiiilk. (link)

As said earlier, they also publicly shared a post that demanded better Black representation and justice for characters that were actually dark-skinned Asians.

I will add more once additional information comes forward. For now, do not support queenlilithprime / restartheartvn.

Testimonies from other people

These will be from aggrieved discord members since that is where most of my friends are active, but I can add anonymous tumblr testimonies too.

Person 1:

Person 2:

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧-𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: as handmaiden to rhaenyra targaryen, you have stood ever-faithfully by her side, through the brewing storm. loneliness seems to tether the two of you together.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.0K (not sorry)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), power imbalance (not in a bad way), age gap (legal), infidelity, mentions of rhaenicent and daemyra, rhaenyra is bisexual, internalized homophobia, lots of making out, groping, biting, dry humping, risk of getting caught, fingering (fem!rec), breast play, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), rhaenyra is a soft pleasure dom, aftercare + sweet ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first wlw fic & first time writing for rhaenyra, please be gentle! ngl I loved writing this so unbelievably much, I would love some requests for her! I hope you all enjoy, I’m really proud of this one and it’s def more meaningful to me as a queer woman! ❤️

TEMPESTUOUS TIDES RAGED WITHIN A CERULEAN OCEAN, WAVES KISSING THE CLIFF SIDES OF DRAGONSTONE, AN ANCIENT CITADEL HELD ALOFT BY ARCHAIC STONE. SALTWATER MIST HUNG HEAVY UPON THE BREEZE, A MIDDAY SUN GLISTENING OVERHEAD, BLANKETING THE SEASON IN GLITTERING RAYS OF VIBRANCY.

In the wake of usurpation, the realm was torn asunder, thrust into the wake of a war that had already consumed lives — lives that needn’t be lost. Upon the knife’s edge of chaos, Rhaenyra had felt more alone than ever before.

Loyalties were fickle; some bought, others severed. As days progressed, she had felt more frayed than ever, stretched too thin. Bloodthirst had already consumed the life of her beloved Lucerys and Prince Jaehaerys II, a needless slaughter.

The day had progressed at a sluggish pace, between council meetings and correspondence with Jacaerys. Poised within an ornate chair, she remained sequestered within her chambers, lingering beside the window, left ajar.

Betwixt her fingers, she cradled the crown of Jaehaerys the Conciliator, once the emblem of a peaceful Targaryen regime — formerly placed upon the brow of her late father.

Recent occurrences had forced her to face an ugly preponderance; did the crown fit upon her own brow as it had for so many others before her?

Had her father never been so brazen as to break hundreds of years of tradition, Lucerys might still live, and the realm at-peace. Rhaenyra lived with the knowledge that a greater war lingered beyond, hidden within the shadows — the Conqueror’s dream.

With Daemon gone to play King-Consort in the Riverlands and Jacaerys determined to gain the allegiance of the Freys, it was as if she were standing alone upon an island. Rhaenys could only console her so much before such wise words lost their luster.

Even Elinda herself was away; and that left you, bound to the Queen’s side.

Raised within a lesser house who had sworn their allegiance to Viserys’s true heir, your servitude to Queen Rhaenyra had been one of the greatest honors of your lifetime.

With her half-brother now sitting the Iron Throne, conflict chafed at the realm, cruel tendrils seeking to spread across the land; an embittered war of kin against kin. Such strife was felt by all within Dragonstone, including yourself.

Tension seemed to linger within the Queen, a terse countenance interlaced with an underlying melancholy. Grief still clung to her; the passing of Lucerys, the passing of her stillborn daughter. With Daemon away and their relationship fragmented, you often felt concerned for her wellbeing.

It was expected of her, to remain headstrong — to shoulder the weight of responsibility, the curse of a crown so heavy that it nearly obliterated her. However, you were privy to her strength, a resilient determination to seize her birthright, come what may.

Summoned to her chambers, your knuckles tapped against ancient wood, iron-wrought doors groaning in protest. The creaking reverberated throughout the hall of stone, slivers of sunlight dancing across the floors.

“My Queen,” A soft cough bubbled from your throat, effectively fracturing her ruminations. Lilac hues drifted from the tarnished crown to you, sharp features bathed in the midday glow. “You summoned me.”

Rhaenyra had become something of a friend to you, if that term were appropriate for a monarch. In her own perspective, you were a shrewd maiden; comely and polite, loyal without fault. Conversation had felt effortless with her, and oftentimes, she confided in you without question.

The strife she faced was immense, and to you, she seemed exceptionally lonely, a notion that you were empathetic to. Despite the differences in histories and the lives you led, you were not bereft of your morality.

Rising from her seat, the Queen regarded you with an indiscernible expression, some amalgamation of warmth intermingled with something forlornly. A cordial smile crossed her features, fading as soon as it had appeared.

“Yes,” Placing the crown upon the window’s ledge, she smoothed her palms over her gown, a rich hue of burgundy, trimmed in draconic patterns of silver. “I wish for you to accompany me to the archives. I’ve much reading to do.”

Targaryen histories were not unfamiliar to her, and yet, it proved a worthy distraction in the face of such uncertainty. Rhaenyra hoped that it would better serve her reign, to know of the Conqueror’s Dream, of the coming war in the North.

“Of course, your Grace.” Devotion was a mere understatement when it came to that of your Queen; you admired her all the same. She carried herself with a dignified strength that you yearned for, a poise becoming of a ruler.

Stepping aside, you made a berth for Rhaenyra, allowing her to pass before you flocked to her flank. The Queensguard prepared to accompany you, causing the Queen to halt in her tracks.

“We needn’t be accompanied.” Rhaenyra’s sharp announcement was enough to rattle both men, Ser Darklyn and Ser Marbrand taking careful steps back, posted outside of her chambers. With a soft hum, the Queen continued, her gait measured as it came to slow.

Oftentimes, you were behind her, commonplace for a lady of your station. Much to your bewilderment, she had let her pace come to a leisurely crawl, keeping in-stride with you. “Your Grace, do not trouble yourself with …”

“Nonsense,” A brief sigh unraveled from her lips, hands poised before her, occasionally gathering her skirts to descend a flight of stairs. “I cannot speak with you if I am far ahead.” It was a welcome change-of-pace for you, admittedly.

Neglecting to protest her request, you nodded, allowing yourself to dutifully walk by her side. For a moment, you remained silent, afraid to speak your mind. “As you wish, your Grace. If I may inquire, what is the reason for our visit to the library?”

“You have already inquired,” A teasing lilt clung to her tone, a cadence that oozed with grace. She was ethereal, whimsical to behold, in truth. You had never glimpsed upon a woman as beautiful as she, lilac hues possessing a faint shimmer. “It is a distraction, reading; I can only stomach so much of my chamber walls.”

A peculiar heat crawled along the nape of your neck, hands folding themselves together as you made for the library. “I am sure that the constant scenery can become mundane for you, my Queen. I should hope that this venture offers you solace.”

Solace — Rhaenyra had not felt such a sensation in many years, merely a facade. For much of her life, it had been hallmarked by tragedy and betrayal, and yet, she knew what privilege she had, even still.

Lucerys’s passing had left a void within her, chipped away by Viserys, by Visenya, who never drew her first breath. Grief followed her like a haunting spectre, nipping at her heels, allowing its gnarled tendrils to wrap around her heart.

Attempting to brave the tumultuous storm of melancholy tested her at every turn, and each day, the pain only seemed to ebb and flow. This war had already taken much from her — Rhaenyra wondered how much more it would cost her.

A sheen of sadness shimmered within her gaze, drawn toward the distance, as if she were remembering. You feared that you had spoken out-of-turn, lips parting as you cleared your throat. “Forgive me, your Grace — I did not mean to offend.”

Rhaenyra seemed dismissive of your apology, as the two of you entered through arching doors, marked by flickering braziers. Dragonstone’s library was rather impressive, scaling walls filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, pieces of the past all kept within one sanctuary.

“You did not offend, sweet girl.” The warmth of her affectionate moniker made your stomach tremble with butterflies, a sensation you seldom felt.

It was not your responsibility to bear the brunt of her pain, and Rhaenyra knew this. Your words were of good intent, tidings of peace, if that were even attainable. She recalled what it was like when she was your age — times were simpler, then.

Following her into the labyrinth of parchment, it seemed that she had already made a temporary residence here. A large, ornate desk had already been organized with historical volumes and various papers, one that she had made consistent use of.

As she lowered herself into one of the numerous chairs, you curiously ogled the many shelves, wishing that you had enough time to read it all. Possessing a passion for literature, you wondered what hidden gems rest beneath the mountainous weight of parchment.

The hall remained quiet, save for the distant song of the tides, the air carrying the distinct scent of dust-laden paper. Braziers crackled with smoldering embers, daylight pooling in through stained-glass window panes.

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to you, silently wandering the numerous shelves that scaled to the ceilings. “You are welcome to read whatever you wish,” Bewilderment etched itself into your features. “Most of these texts have seen better days.”

It felt like a sin, laying your hand upon anything in this library — it was all above you, a mausoleum of Targaryen histories and beyond. “That is a thoughtful offer, my Queen, but I do not believe that it is appropriate for someone of my station …”

A soft huff tore past her parted lips, a glint of amusement heavy within lilac hues. With a dismissive sound, she shook her head. “I believe that it is appropriate. They shall find no use, otherwise.” A lighthearted lilt permeated her tone, and you promptly curtsied.

Gratitude seeped from every pore, lips curling into a gentle smile. “You have my thanks, your Grace.” Curiosity got the better of you, gaze lingering over many texts, until one in particular seized your attention.

It was a lightweight volume, riddled with dust, careworn from the passage of time. Its tattered pages contained plenty of material regarding the history of dragons, something that perplexed you to no end.

Prying it from the shelf, you moved to sit, dusting your fingertips across the book’s dilapidated cover. The color had faded, showing signs of age, but you persisted. Much of the script was written in High Valyrian, a language that you knew pieces of, a puzzle indiscernible to you.

Rooted behind the sturdy expanse of an ornate table, Rhaenyra observed you, even still. Violet hues brazenly rake across your hands; delicate yet hardened, like that of some precious jewel.

Beauty clung to your youthful features like the first breath of spring, vibrant and warm. It was your heart that oozed with a brightness, the same was your countenance. She had grown fond of you, perhaps too fond, suppressing lingering feelings.

The mass of parchment beneath her palm suddenly loses all of its meaning. It is the stare of a dragon, one that unknowingly covets something that does not belong to her. Trapped within the cage of her own thoughts, the Queen does not register the inquiry that floated from your lips.

A tendril of shame festers within her, then and there. Rhaenyra exhaled, jaw terse as she regarded you with a kindly disposition, albeit a touch strained. It was the same shame she had felt when she first held Alicent’s hand, when she had bed Harwin Strong; something forbidden.

Whatever she began to feel, she knew that it was somewhat an extension of her loneliness; her sons away, Daemon drowning in the fire of his ambition, Rhaenys to Driftmark.

“Your Grace?”

“My apologies,” With a distant smile, lilac hues briefly avert themselves, as if attempting to remain innocuous. “I have felt strained, as of-late. It is something that I should not subject you to.”

Words sizzled upon your tongue, begging for freedom as you sat straighter, your gaze tearing itself away from the book. “I do not intend to speak out of-turn, my Queen, but I would consider you something of a friend — you have not subjected me to anything.”

True, pious friendships seemed difficult to obtain for her, most having passed, others now turncoats in the wake of the Greens’ reign. A flicker of appreciation settled within her eyes, fingertips brushing across a bound scroll.

Rhaenyra had confided plenty in you, professed doubts and insecurities, spilled her heart and let it bleed onto her sleeve; there was nothing truer than that. “You have my gratitude — truly.” Her voice was gentle yet regal, a lull that often enticed you.

“You needn’t thank me, your Grace. I know that you have been pressed beneath an oppressive weight, a burden that I do not fully understand. Your strength does not go unnoticed.” Sympathy clung to each syllable, a sentiment that she clung to, heart stirring within her breast.

A brief hum escaped her, one that bordered upon sardonic as she toyed with a piece of parchment. “I do not often feel as strong as I should,” Her confession was wrought with dismay. “I know that many would view my inaction as a weakness.”

Daemon had urged her to act — to kill, to burn, to obliterate — Rhaenyra had not found it within herself to conform to such intentions. She had little desire to rule over a kingdom of ash, let alone bloodletting when so much had been spilled already.

Some sliver of her desired that — bloodlust, revenge, the heads of usurpers upon spikes.

It would always be part of her, something she had learned to acknowledge. Meeting your gaze, her jaw tensed somewhat, considering her next words before you cut through the tenuous silence.

“Strength is not always found in our actions — sometimes it is the things we do not follow through on, our temperance,” A brief pause; your hands folded together atop your book. “A sound leader considers the counsel of those around her, and herself — and you have done just that.”

Rhaenyra considered you in silent observation, mauve hues flickering over you with a thinly-veiled admiration. “If only so many thought as you did,” Her smile was forlorn, heavy with doubt. “I often wonder if the throne truly is my birthright.”

“I did not know your father, your Grace, but from what I’ve been told, he never faltered from naming you heir — it is your birthright,” Nails began to dig into the book’s fragile spine. “Despite what opposition lingers, you are the Queen this realm deserves.”

It was a satisfying feeling, to be believed in, to be beloved — Rhaenyra seldom felt such sensations in recent weeks, often undermined at each turn. She seemed to subtly preen beneath the genuine weight of your words, warmth fluttering throughout her sternum.

“You have my thanks.” With a solemn lament, the Queen’s incendiary gaze remained transfixed upon you, features blanketed by a warm smile. She found you to be comely, a young maiden who desired purpose in the world.

“Of course, my Queen,” Words stilled upon your tongue, a bout of hesitancy gripping you before you continued. “To have a woman sit the Throne would mean more than you could ever imagine to so many, including myself.”

Men had always sat upon the Iron Throne, but Rhaenyra’s opportunity to strike down a longstanding tradition was at-hand. She had often detested the roles laid before her in her youth — betrothals, marriages, stripped of independence.

She could seldom imagine what women endured, especially those less fortunate than herself. Your circumstances were something similar — serving at her side had spared you from a potential betrothal, something that you had little desire for.

Rhaenyra considered your words — what importance they held, the implications. Should the war be won and her crown reclaimed, she wondered how much it would mean to the smallfolk, to denizens like yourself.

“I should hope that I am worthy enough for it,” It was the wisp of insecurities breathing life into her words, and she shook her head. “I apologize — I do not wish for this conversation to be so dour.” She uttered, stress residing within her visage.

Perplexed, your head cocked to one side, as if she had said something blasphemous. “There is no one worthier, my Queen,” Lips fleetingly curled into an amiable, reassuring smile. “You needn’t apologize for it, either. I know that these last few weeks have not been kind to you.”

A sharp pang of aching melancholy festered within her heart, a raw reminder of loss, of love’s rage. Rhaenyra seemed to grow distant for a moment, as if attempting to compose herself for the sake of your conversation.

Growing quiet, you wondered if you had sorely overstepped her boundaries with such words, able to feel the forlornly frustration wafting from her. In truth, you also felt more alone than ever — your father was away, family scattered to the winds.

The Queen was the only source of companionship you had, and despite being bound by duty, you thoroughly enjoyed her presence. Time had withered the tenuous air between you both, weathering away your initial intimidation until the both of you spoke freely.

Rising from her seat, Rhaenyra’s measured steps rounded the table, coming to lean against the edge as she peered at her hands. “I feel as if I haven’t had a moment’s peace to properly grieve, as if duty demands I must press on.”

She mourned who her daughter could’ve been — something fierce, someone kind, and she mourned who Lucerys was, gentle and just. Their weight within her heart felt heavy, a raw reminder of their passing.

“When my sister died, kind words seemed fleeting — everyone seemed too preoccupied with replacing her, with what came next, instead of acknowledging the void that she left,” As you spoke with such sympathy, Rhaenyra’s eyes softened. “I felt much the same, left without a moment to mourn what I lost.”

As you moved from your seat, your gaze seemed drawn to the midday sun pooling in from the windows, catching flecks of dust through the glittering rays. The book felt incredibly weighty within your hands, no longer holding the significance that it had moments prior.

“I am sorry for your sister,” She uttered, pale brows furrowing together. Dismissive of it, the Queen cleared her throat. “I am no stranger to loss,” Rhaenyra lamented, her smile a saddened one, lilac hues following you with an unusual intensity. “It does not make things any easier, I’m afraid.”

With a brief shake of your head, your head canted toward the ground, averting her stare. “It does not — I hope that peace finds you, my Queen. You’ve endured much, and yet, you remain resilient.”

Rhaenyra felt soothed by your words, a kindness that seemed lacking within her counsel as of-late. There was a semblance of ease, at your side. “I must thank you, for speaking to me — it does some good to converse in this way.”

A bubble of laughter slipped past your lips, a fleeting sound that seemed heavy with a sense of contentment. “You needn’t continue to thank me, your Grace. I value this just as much as you do — you are the only voice I’ve heard in these last few days.”

A rare smile graced the Queen’s features, hauntingly beautiful, ethereal like the rest of her. It waned as soon as it had appeared, but you clung to it nonetheless. “I’ve grown rather used to yours.” She remarked, tone bordering upon precociousness.

Tendrils of fire began to seep into your belly, skin crawling with an unnatural warmth. It was sinful to allow yourself to be smitten by the Queen, a woman married, a mother, but it became difficult to ignore the stirring within your chest.

“I should hope it hasn’t become grating for you, your Grace.” With a feeble attempt at deflecting her subtle compliment, your fingers twisted together, interwoven atop the book’s spine. Whatever sentiments surged within you, any attempt to suppress them were futile.

Rhaenyra hummed, head cocking slightly to one side. “Quite the opposite — it eases my heart.” A haze of tension permeated the space between you both, one that seemed to linger.

Swallowing the growing lump that formed within your throat, you appeared flattered, lashes fluttering and your countenance demure. “Thank you, your Grace,” A pause gripped you, and with carelessness, you continued. “I look forward to your company each day, in truth.”

Despite the innocuous nature of your statement, there was something deeper laced within — a yearning, a gnawing ache. Whatever you felt for your Queen, it was steadily transcending all bonds of propriety, a scourge upon her honor, and yours.

In the spirit of transparency, Rhaenyra felt something lurch within her, a desperation; vanquishing loneliness. Growing close to you was not a mere accident, and she felt lecherous in her own desires, not wanting to soil this nurtured companionship.

It was your candor and tenderness that beguiled her so, a gentler hand — kinder than Daemon, softer than Harwin, and lacking Alicent’s callous betrayal.

A brief hitch formed within her throat, subtle in the face of her usual poise, pale brow furrowing in contemplation. Whatever she felt for you, it began to simmer to the surface, like the violent swell of a tempestuous tide, dragging her beneath the squall.

With a steady exhale, Rhaenyra had stepped closer, well within arm’s reach of you. “As I long for yours,” She uttered. “You’ve been a spot of light in such times of darkness.” Exuding restraint, she looked to you, countenance swirling with an amalgamation of emotions, some indiscernible to you.

Longing seemed too powerful a word, something that evoked a twinge of bewilderment from you. The lull of her cadence subdued you, a rush of heat licking from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine.

The weight of repressed sin hung heavy within your heart, akin to that of an anvil. Such sentiments had plagued you for as long as you could recall, thoughts stretched thin with fantasies that the Faith of the Seven often outlawed.

Yet, when you caught a glimpse of Rhaenyra, none of it felt sinful — it was as if you were burning, basked within a pleasant heat. Her beauty was divine, a goddess swathed in dragon’s scales, violet hues seemingly boring into you, attempting to pick you apart at the seams.

“It is difficult not to feel such isolation,” The confession that spilled from your lips mirrored her own inner turmoil. “Aside from yourself, Elinda, and the Kingsguard, I’ve often felt like a stranger, a ghost shambling about within these halls.”

If you were brazen and emboldened, you might’ve continued, lavishing your Queen with sweet words. You nearly imparted upon her that she had made you feel such invigoration, no longer a spectre — and it all felt so untoward.

“You aren’t alone,” Rhaenyra exhaled, allowing a sliver of tension to unfurl from her shoulders. The silence that had passed between you was nearly exhilarating. “I’ve felt it too, after Daemon departed — more than ever before, in truth.”

Daemon was an enigma — an arrogant enigma, one that had brought both love and suffering into Rhaenyra’s life. His abandonment and ambition were sore subjects as of-late, and she thought of him as a concerned wife would; nothing more.

“You have my sympathies, your Grace,” It seemed to be some pull you had towards one another, strings of fate tethering you to her. Rhaenyra had sluggishly circled about, coming to halt by your side. “Trust that you shall always have my shoulder to lean upon, no matter the storm.”

Whatever action proceeded your words seemed wholly involuntary, as if you were acting upon the stirring within your heart. Brazenly, you had reached for her, unable to stop yourself as your hand slipped against her forearm.

Your comfort and reassurance had ensnared her long before your digits graced her arm, a fire rousing within her. Her heart stuttered, gooseflesh permeating the back of her neck at the briefest sensation, and she did not recoil.

A noticeable shift began to stir, tension simmering to life like that of an open flame, permeating the air around you. Rhaenyra gazed at you longingly, wordlessly reaching for your waist, slender digits curling into the fabric there.

Bewilderment entangled with exhilaration scrawled across your countenance, breath hitching within your throat as she stepped closer. The silence was deafening, wrought with the onslaught of something foreign, something thrilling.

Slowly, your hand began to crawl from her forearm to her shoulder, the neckline of her gown encrusted with jewels and draconic patterns. Rhaenyra did not stop you from continuing, shivering as the silky pads of your fingertips ghosted along the column of her throat.

“My Queen, I …” A sudden fear gripped you then, as if this had carried on to the point of no return. This was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and you were merely a handmaiden. All bonds of impropriety shattered, besmirching her honor; you would be executed.

Before your weak declaration of protest could be vocalized, she drew you closer still, any sliver of space fading between bodies. Words turned to ash, floating away into the dust-laden library as her lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was brief, dancing upon the thin line of restraint as Rhaenyra drew back, lilac hues half-lidded. She dared not press you further, caressing against the small of your back as you attempted to regain your composure.

It was you she waited for, gauging to see if you wished to continue. Instead of executing caution, you broke upon the blade of temptation, mouth returning to hers after a moment of hesitation. Your kiss lacked experience, sheepishly mimicking her movements.

A sharp exhale ripped through her lungs, pale brows creasing in concentration as she reciprocated your kiss, blinding you with a flurry of passion. She held you close, caging you in against her, able to smell the faint perfume that dabbled your collarbone.

A soft, trembling gasp escaped you as her palm moved to cup the nape of your neck, thumb stroking beneath your ear. Each kiss was akin to a blaze of wildfire, tearing through you with all of its heat and ardent intensity, enough to scorch your flesh.

Clamoring fingers moved to drape themselves over her shoulders, interlocking against the top of her spine, able to graze across her bare skin. Rhaenyra did not relent, grasping you fiercely, as if asserting her claim as she tilted her head, deepening your fervent entanglement.

Some dizzying haze washed over you then, bitten by desire, by devotion. Lips untethered themselves from hers as you pressed a string of kisses against the sharp line of her jaw, and then to her throat. A hum of approval left the Queen, the bridge of her nose buried into your crown.

Reverence seeped into each and every ministration, as if you were worshiping her — and she deserved nothing less. Strings of passionate kisses feathered themselves across her neck, evoking a myriad of pleasurable sounds from Rhaenyra.

Arousal began to mount between your thighs, warm and heady as friction crackled, your back digging into the ornate desk. Despite your glaring inexperience, it became easier to chase after baser instincts, belly sloshing with molten heat.

As you littered her flesh in constant kisses, you felt her palm cup the base of your skull, digits sinking into your tresses. It was her other hand that had tantalizingly danced along your spine before groping your hip, nails catching upon fabric.

Wordlessly, she guided your lips back to hers, thumb caressing your jaw as mouths collided once more. A simpering moan ripped through your diaphragm, lost within the divine labyrinth of her lips.

Deep-seated repression had festered to the surface, unorthodox desires that had brought you ruin and scorn, now laid bare before your charge. It felt wrong to indulge yourself in this way, but in-turn, you had felt so liberated.

Passion blossomed like an untamable thicket, consuming the both of you; hunger followed suit, a tempting shadow. You had not experienced a kiss like this — Rhaenyra was practiced yet unbound, showing little restraint in the face of your own hesitation.

It was then that you felt the feather-light pressure of her thigh split between your legs, briefly grazing your nethers. A sudden shiver gripped you, and you nearly stumbled in your actions, lips clamoring for hers, longing to be near her.

The thunderous groan of wooden doors intercepted the both of you, as you immediately tore away from your Queen as if you’d been scorched. Writhing from between her body and the table, you relocated towards the numerous shelves, heart beating like that of bird’s wings.

“Your Grace, there has been word from The Twins — your son has delivered a missive.” Ser Darklyn announced, standing at the top of the steps, gazing down upon Rhaenyra. Her composure hung by a mere thread as she nodded, hands clenched within her skirts.

“Thank you, Ser Steffon. I shall join you momentarily.” Rhaenyra echoed, features warmed by a shade of scarlet. Mauve hues searched for you, cowering beside a shelf before you swiftly curtsied before her.

Desiring to make a swift exit as to deal with the aftermath of your own dishonorable actions, you swallowed the lump within your throat. “Your Grace, I shall be taking my leave.” Scuttling about, Rhaenyra did not have an opportunity to get in a single word before you’d disappeared from the archives altogether.

Surely, you had misinterpreted things.

As a star-laden penumbra lingered over Dragonstone, you had excused yourself for the evening, allowing another handmaiden to assume your duties. Guilt and shame had ripped through you for the rest of midday, a torrent of sin that threatened to obliterate you.

Strewn across your bed within the underbelly of the servant’s quarters, you were faced with the raw realization of desire.

Throwing yourself at the feet of a woman whose birthright transcended you was unbecoming, untoward; a manifestation of years of seeking purpose, seeking yourself. It was wrong of you to drag the Queen into your own repressed fantasies, ones that you thought you’d buried.

Through the coolness of dusk, you hoped to find some peace in the blanket of slumber, but even that seemed to evade you. It was not yet the hour of the bat, and you felt your body cringe at the sound of the door opening.

“The Queen has asked for you.” Sera crooned, politely shutting the door behind her. Dread seeped into your stomach, and you feared that you had overstepped all boundaries, tarnished honor beyond all recognition.

With limbs like anchors, you slowly clamored from your cot, dressing yourself in your burgundy trappings. Between midday and now, you had freshened up, binding the gown around you as you prepared to make the arduous journey to your Queen’s chambers.

The trek was perilous, as if all time had stood still, and you were left to slog through the growing storm. It was trepidation that gripped you, a gnawing worry that this was all some grave misunderstanding — you prayed that you wouldn’t lose your head.

As you stood before iron-wrought doors, bedecked in the roaring heads of dragons, you noticed the lack of lingering Kingsguard. They were posted elsewhere, further down the corridor, much to your bewilderment.

With a shrewd knock, you heard the command of your Queen from within, beckoning you to enter. Slipping past the set of massive doors, you turned to close them, posture unnaturally rigid as you awkwardly shuffled further into her chambers.

Rhaenyra sat before the hearth, pale tresses unbound from their intricate braids, spilling over slender shoulders. An evening gown of silver clung to her, rich silks from Pentos, shrouded by a robe of a dark cerulean, embroidered with a draconian motif; you had never seen anyone more beautiful.

She ripped the air from your lungs as if she had stolen it herself, poised within a high-backed seat, violet hues drifting away from the flames. The Queen turned enough to catch a glimpse of you, doe-eyed and clearly feeling the weight of nervousness.

“Your Grace, I … I have come to beg for your forgiveness,” You felt as if you were going to wretch, fingers twisting together as you watched her stand, arms loosely folded across her chest. “What occurred today was unbecoming of my station and a stain upon your honor.”

Rhaenyra regarded you with a gentle intensity, eyes swirling with a thinly-veiled adoration. You hadn’t done anything wrong — nothing that she didn’t want, hadn’t dreamt of. Neither she nor you had done anything like this, outside of mere fantasy and years of repression.

She stepped closer, hoping to dissolve your bout of anxiousness. “It is I who should be begging for forgiveness, sweet girl,” She uttered, cadence whimsically smooth, a brilliant lull. “I should have inquired if you wanted to indulge before acting upon my own desires.”

Shock rippled through you, heart hammering like the tides breaking upon rock, and you swallowed once more. “Indulge? My Queen, I — I shouldn’t, I am your servant,” Gods help you — you desired her in a way that shook the foundations of the earth. “Your husband, he …”

“Daemon is not here,” Rhaenyra moved closer, pale brows furrowing as she reached for you, palm cupping your jaw. “You are an equal to me — I would wish for you to stay with me, though I would honor your wishes, whatever you choose.”

The swell of fondness that glistened within her eyes was purely genuine, not born out of desperation or loneliness. She wanted you; craved your beating heart, longing for you like sun-warmed earth.

“It feels sinful to want to stay,” With a wisp of a murmur, you shuddered as silken fingertips brushed over your flesh. It was gentle, loving — something that you felt wholly undeserving of. “And yet I do not wish to leave your side.”

Faith had kept you shackled to misery for so long, and now, Rhaenyra saw you as you were and accepted you for it, loved you for it. She could see the war that waged within you, written so clearly upon your countenance.

It was the same anguish she once saw in Laenor, and she did not wish to see it blossom within you, either. Rhaenyra once felt as you did, with Alicent — such sentiments for her old friend had waned, but the core desire had remained intact.

Disarmingly tender, the Valyrian Queen began to guide you deeper into the comforting recesses of her quarters, a room that you were intimately familiar with. Beside the hearth, you steadily began to relax — just a sliver.

“You are not a sin, sweet girl — none of this is sinful.” Rhaenyra murmured, thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, soothing your inner turmoil. That affectionate moniker of hers had tugged at your heartstrings, uprooted you and everything you thought you knew.

Relief washed over you then, and you turned, lips pressing against her palm. Silence hung heavy, taut with a burning tension as she drew you closer as she had in the archives, lips sealing themselves against yours.

Whatever restraint you had exuded prior had begun to dissipate, splintering at the seams as you clung to her like that of a drowning woman. Your hands clumsily found their purchase atop her shoulders, able to feel her digits sink against your hips, one palm splayed across your lower back.

A moonlit gloom pooled in from stained-glass windows, procuring a glittering array of light across stone floors. Firelight danced from within the hearth, its tendrils illuminating you, blanketing her in a peculiar glow, like that of a dragon.

Two hearts grasped at one another, clawing for a shred of reprieve, of affection — you were endlessly greedy, starved of adoration.

Rhaenyra savored your taste, saccharine and one of sheer piety, a rarity in the realm’s current state. A twinge of nervousness permeated your every move, as if you were afraid to allow desire to unfurl, something that she sympathized with.

Vigor seeped into her kiss, growing in intensity as she caged you in against her, head canting enough to deepen your entanglement. A breathy exhale emerged from betwixt your lips, pitched with a desirous thrill that swallowed you whole.

Withdrawing yourself, the flush of ecstasy clung to your flesh, the first whisper of an ardent heat. Violet hues regarded you with a fondness, oozing sensuality and protection. Her palm idly circled over your spine, allowing you to take your time with it all.

“You are more beautiful than the heavens themselves — the envy of a thousand stars,” As the soft-spoken compliment slipped from your lips, Rhaenyra hummed, mouth twitching into an amicable smile. “My Queen.”

“You discredit yourself, surely,” The Targaryen pressed her lips to your brow, and then to your jaw, reveling in the quiver of your sigh. “I find you captivating, sweetling.” Warmth tore at your bones, elation rippling through you as you preened beneath her alluring words.

Gods, to be cherished, to be wanted; it transcended duty, that of infatuation. Ardor scorched your flesh, a searing fire of your Queen’s adoration, a flame that you happily burned within.

Beneath your breast, the thrumming of your heart rattled against your sternum, causing you to shiver with a thinly-veiled euphoria. Practiced digits began to map your delicate features, still alight with the vibrancy of youth, thumb stroking across your lower lip.

An amalgamation of desire and zeal glistened within lilac hues, mirroring your own countenance, doe-eyed and brimming with devotion. Gathering what threadbare confidence you had, your lips found hers once more, a bruising kiss that overflowed with passion.

Rhaenyra was no stranger to pleasure, well-adept at knowing the body of another, including her own. She handled you with utmost care, allowing you to act on your own accord, without her influence. It made her burn for you all the more.

It was then that your courage spurred onward, palm drifting from the nape of her neck toward her bosom, sheepishly cupping her clothed breast. A low hum of satisfaction slipped from her lips, approval scrawled upon ethereal features.

Guiding you toward the velvet-cushioned seat, it was Rhaenyra who lowered herself to sit, noticing the sheepish expression you bore. “Do I frighten you, sweet girl?” The Queen’s tone held a playful lilt to it, head canting to one side.

Intimidated, not afraid, you thought, stomach churning with a volatile heat. “Not at all, your Grace. I — I suppose it seems cruel of me to not focus upon your own pleasure.” With your meek confession now spilled, Rhaenyra’s lips began to curl into an assuring smile.

“Rhaenyra,” She corrected; perhaps abandoning formalities would ease the tenuous barrier still lingering between you. “Pleasure is a shared sentiment, I assure you.” Beckoning you forward, she extended her hand to you, inviting you to sit within her lap.

A heavy exhale lingered within your ribs, and you stepped forward, sinking into her lap without question. You felt smitten beneath her smoldering stare, one that brazenly admired you, absorbing every facet of your beauty.

Foreheads grazed against the other, warmth drifting between bodies as you stole another kiss from her, one that nearly dazed her. Rhaenyra kneaded into your curves, feeling your silken fingertips gently push against the front of her robe.

With renewed confidence, you palmed at her breast, able to feel the swell of soft flesh through her nightgown. A stifled sigh escaped the Queen, whose desire had grown tenfold, raging like a tempest within her.

Prying your lips away, you kissed beneath her jaw, allowing yourself to follow after instinct, planting a string of heated kisses along her neck. With your other hand, your digits twisted into the fabric beside her knee, pulling it up along her legs.

Rhaenyra shivered with a pang of ecstasy, adjusting you enough upon her lap, allowing the silken material to bunch around her thighs. With incessant tugs of your own stiff garments, she wished to see you with less obstructions.

“Relieve yourself of this,” The sultry lilt of her tone made you gasp, insides filling with a searing liquid, beginning to ooze between your thighs. “I wish to see you.” Little more than a soft purr, you were swift to obey her command.

Untethering the thick, crimson robe, you allowed the garment to flutter to the stone, leaving you in a threadbare shift, one that left little to the imagination. You nearly buckled beneath her hawkish gaze, one that openly bled with ardor and a twinge of possessiveness.

Admiration glittered upon her visage, the very image of beauty, a goddess incarnate. A shiver gripped you as she traced your spine with her fingertips, palm coming to knead against your haunch. Reverence oozed from her embrace, making you feel at-ease.

As your palm cupped her breast, threatening to delve beneath the gossamer of her nightgown, the other remained poised atop her knee. With a fistful of fabric, you allowed your fingertips to dance against the bare flesh of her thigh.

Rhaenyra looked to you, silently beseeching you to continue, allowing you to explore as you pleased. Her lips sought the delicate plane of your throat, pressing a series of kisses beneath your jaw to start, fingers sinking into your derrière.

A sharp exhale punctured your lungs, wrought with exhilaration as your hand continued its path, caressing along her thigh, seeking the warmth between her legs. Sheepish still, your touch was disarmingly gentle, as kind as springtime, yet succeeded in making your Queen shiver.

This sweetness you possessed was something Rhaenyra reveled in, your tenderness a welcome respite. A low moan quaked from her lips as your digits nimbly danced over her nethers, features warming with a twinge of excitement.

As the defined bridge of her nose grazed over your jugular, you began to touch her with more urgency this time. Delicate fingers began to slip against her cunt, ministrations somewhat unsteady as you attempted to find your rhythm.

Kneading against your derrière, Rhaenyra huffed, the sound a pleasurable one as she continued to kiss your neck. Softness had grown into the flame of desire, ardor simmering in the space between your bodies, enough to make you shiver.

“Rhaenyra,” A sigh of ecstasy tore past your kiss-swollen lips, and she preened at the sound of her name. It was heavenly, uttered with such reverence, such adoration. “Gods, you are enchanting.” You murmured.

A soft moan left you as she kissed the dip between your throat and shoulder, lips pursing enough to leave behind a token of her affection. It was etched into your flesh like a brand — and you wanted more.

It was then that her hand tangled against the collar of your shift, peeling the fabric aside, unveiling your breasts to her. The sight was a feast, a kindly beauty that the Targaryen had become rather infatuated with. Her lips were soon to follow, kissing a hot trail across your collar.

Hips urged against your hand as you stroked eager circles against her core, thumb finding its way to the sensitive bundle of nerves. A sharp, dizzying gasp inhabited her throat, a punctuated sound that nearly made you pause, if it weren’t for her soft moan.

Admittedly, she was starved for contact, having wished for a kinder embrace for some time. It was often your heavenly hand she’d dreamt of, the vibrancy of your smile, the reverence that often oozed from your tongue.

Mapping each curve of her body, each tick of pleasure, you only desired her more than you thought possible. Want only seemed to grow in her wake, her embrace leaving behind a trail of fire, smiting you to little more than wanton ash.

Kissing towards your bosom, Rhaenyra gingerly cupped your breast, able to feel your body keen into her caress. A practiced thumb flicked across your nipple, mouth continuing to blaze over your flesh, kiss after kiss until she neared your chest.

“You drive me to madness.” Rhaenyra’s utterance emerged as a breathy sigh, whispered into your flesh like some prayer. Butterflies erupted within your stomach, accompanied by a churning of molten heat. A hitch formed within your throat, features warming.

Slotting yourself atop one of her thighs, it allowed you some advantage, digits continuing to glide along her cunt. A myriad of low, sonorous moans left her, smothered against your sternum as she turned, taking one of your breasts into her mouth.

A startled whine rippled through you, torn asunder by bliss on all sides, pleasure becoming a mutual experience. Adroit lips began to pepper your breast with soft kisses, pursing around the pliant mound as she drew forth a cry of delight from your mouth.

Despite the satisfying distraction, your ministrations refused to cease, digits gaining both fervor and confidence. You continued to let your fingers rock against her nethers, thumb toying with the pearl of her cunt, enough to make her writhe.

Wanton sighs and breathy moans inhabit the space between your bodies, charged with a zealous desire. As if possessed by invisible strings, your hips lurched forward, gently rocking yourself atop her thigh. Friction simmered in the wake of your movements, arousal seeping between your legs.

Yearning lips trailed from your breast to the valley between, kissing along your flesh until she found your throat once more. Rhaenyra exhaled desire, unable to withhold the blissful noises that tore past her mouth.

“Do not stop,” With a poignant command, spoken through a soft exhale, you heeded the words of your Queen. Allowing your digits to dip lower, two fingers gently prodded against her core, the pad of your thumb caressing her pearl. “There.”

Her voice had often beguiled you so, whimsical and ethereal, as if it were from a distant dream. Now, it was strung-out with desire, a touch husky, as smooth as that of a crystalline dusk. She pressed a kiss beneath your jaw, her own wrought with tension as her hips urged forward.

Foreheads brushed against one another as you rocked yourself atop her thigh, the friction sending shockwaves through your belly. It grazed against your nethers, forcing a soft sigh from your lips, fingers teasing her cunt.

It was then that you dipped forward, evoking a groan from Rhaenyra, whose mouth shifted to claim yours in a dizzying kiss. A fervent flame crackled between, like that of a wildfire, seeking to consume everything in its path.

She tasted of fire, a sting of citrus and a hint of some honeyed swill, her tongue gently seeking entry into your maw. Without protest, you allowed her in, kiss after kiss being lost between you both, her palm shifting to seize the nape of your neck.

“Your Grace,” A pleading moan thrummed from your throat, tapering off into some hapless whine as she groped at your backside once more. The title had made her head spin, filled with some arduous haze as she careened into your touch. “Please.”

It was a ceaseless clash of lips, teeth, and tongues, a ballad of a blossoming adoration. Beneath your breast, your heart galloped with excitement, fingers easing in and out of her cunt, desperate to please her.

A subtle ‘fuck’ escaped Rhaenyra, muttered from beneath her cacophony of moans, and you barely caught it. Gooseflesh born of exhilaration raked down your spine like that of a tidal wave, and you shuddered within her firm grasp.

“Gods.” Rhaenyra groaned, feeling herself clench around your slender digits, grip hard enough to leave bruises against your haunch. Your thumb continued to toy with her pearl in languid circles, again and again.

For one seemingly so inept, you possessed a peculiar keenness, as if you were attuned to her physique already. She craved you as one craved for a gust of air, her ache marrow-deep, a heart’s call that echoed your name.

As she approached her climax, her teeth briefly grazed your lower lip, sealing yours in another blistering kiss. It ripped through you like talons, a bliss that nearly overwhelmed you. Ensuring that you reciprocated, you returned her kiss, lungs searing with a pleasant burning.

Bathed beneath the intermingled glow of both the moon and hearth, she appeared to you as some deity, a goddess of beauty. Never before had you seen someone as resplendent as she, the Queen, veins imbued with dragon’s fire.

A soft gasp took up residence within your lungs, emerging as a gentle tremble, one that seemed wrought with awe at the sight of her. Even through your state of wonder, your digits did not stop, obeying her command.

Violet hues were half-lidded in a state of bliss, momentarily shifting to seek your gaze, as warm as that of midsummer. Her lips parted then, body writhing beneath you as her pinnacle wracked her with such force.

As she came undone upon your hand, you nearly melted at the sight, features warming in the wake of her release. Honeyed arousal wept from her core, coating your digits in her nectar as you pleasured her even still, allowing yourself to slow down.

Tendrils of perspiration glistened upon her brow, likely due in-part to the close proximity of the waning firelight. Rhaenyra exhaled, face nudging against your own as she captured your lips in a bruising kiss, disarmingly tender.

Passion lingered still, momentarily subdued as she composed herself, feeling her thighs twitch, body caught within the afterglow. “You are rather mesmerizing,” Her regal cadence filled your belly with a familiar fire. “Sweet girl.”

“I didn’t cause you harm, did I?” For your own sanity, you hoped that she was well-satisfied and comfortable. The hint of a smile crossed her features, mauve hues raking over you, not quite finished with you yet.

“Quite the opposite,” Soothing your brow, the Queen placed a lingering kiss to your jaw, palm smoothing along your spine. “Though, I am not yet satisfied.” With a desirous lilt, her sultry purr made you clench your thighs together.

Fearing you weren’t good enough, you nearly blubbered some pitiful apology until she eased you off of her lap, gently guiding you toward her bed. A twinge of bewilderment rippled through you; you did not expect to share her bed with her this evening.

Neglecting to inquire further, Rhaenyra coaxed you to sit along the edge of her feathered bed, watching as you lowered yourself without question. She stood over you, soft palm cupping your chin as her thumb sweetly traced over your lower lip.

As if acting upon instinct, you kissed the pad of her thumb, careening into her tender embrace. She bent down, pressing her mouth to yours once more, allowing you to linger within your passionate entanglement.

“You are exquisite.” Your reverence was thinly-veiled, seeped in adoration as you sighed into her mouth. Rhaenyra cherished every word that escaped you, forehead momentarily pressing to yours before she withdrew.

“As are you,” It was then that the Queen knelt before you, an act that took you by complete surprise. Before you could attempt to refute this position, she began to inch your skirts along your thighs, fabric pooling around your hips. “May I?”

The Queen asking for this — it did not feel proper, but you were not one to interfere with her indulgences. “Y—Yes,” With a bumbling stammer, you swallowed the lump of excitement within your throat. “Rhaenyra …”

Wordlessly, her answer was emblazoned as a kiss, sealed against your inner thigh. Fire blossomed from mere contact, and you couldn’t help but gaze down at her with complete and utter ardor. This love you had for her transcended that of duty, one considered forbidden.

Rhaenyra had fantasized about this more often than she cared to admit, knowing fully well that you hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing it. There was a power she felt even when kneeling between your thighs, pressing a trail of kisses towards your aching nethers.

Her tongue raked embers over your cunt, sluggish and exploratory as she gathered her bearings. She had not done something like this before, other than what had been done to her. Rhaenyra watched you squirm, hands desperately fisting at the sheets on either side of you.

The sharp bridge of her nose buried itself against your mound, brushing along your slick petals. It was as if you were an unfurling flower, and she, the bee; your taste was ambrosial, something that filled her mouth with such sweetness.

Keeping yourself from crying out, you moaned, mouth agape as your hips involuntarily urged forward. Her tongue greeted you with a slow lap, tracing along your core as she delved further, visage slotted between your thighs.

Dexterous hands danced across your flesh, over your legs as she anchored her grip there, violet hues occasionally flickering towards your countenance. Your expression had contorted into a look of complete and utter bliss.

It felt horribly wrong of you, sitting here while your Queen knelt, but you dared not interrupt her now. Each stroke of her tongue brought you to heel, legs rattling like wind-stirred leaves as wave after wave of pleasure flooded throughout your body.

Rhaenyra shared in your bliss, reveling in the way you’d reacted so viscerally to her lips, which only served to make her confidence swell. A low hum resonated from her throat, ministrations imbued with an endless passion.

Throaty whines erupted in a cacophony from your mouth, followed by constant sighs of ecstasy. Her hands continued to smooth over your thighs, keeping your legs parted as her tongue tantalizingly raked over your entrance.

As your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing at all, you felt as if you were drowning within an ocean of bliss, eyes nearly closed. It was a sensation unlike any other, her lips peppering a string of greedy kisses to your slit.

She let your legs find rest atop her shoulders, nightgown having loosened upon her frame. Her pale flesh was akin to a canvas — unblemished, pearlescent, nothing short of perfection.

Lilac hues beseech you to steal a glance, gazes locking together for only a moment. The mere sight of her feasting upon the wellspring between your thighs made you whimper, teeth snagging across your bottom lip. The incendiary nature of her ogling fills you with a feverish heat.

Adept with her tongue, Rhaenyra hums again; a low, contented sound that causes your fingers to claw at the sheets. Lapping at your core once more, her nose briefly grazes over your pearl, causing you to shiver around her, wrought with desperation.

“Rh—Rhaenyra,” A noisy moan tears past your lips when you feel her tongue circle over the pearl of your cunt, hips lurching forward. You feel strange, begging for her mouth, but she seems to derive plenty of satisfaction from it. “Gods, do not stop!”

Melting within her grasp, you had not known pleasure like this before, never thought it possible to collapse beneath her touch. Sin had washed away, swept out into the tides, leaving only your sentiments for her — devotion, love.

Each stroke of her tongue is akin to the searing of a wildfire, volatile and burning, with enough force to send you to your knees. Hunger revealed itself like some long-hidden shadow, unfurling in the wake of your own desire and that of your Queen’s.

It felt exhilarating, to be wanted in this way, to be cherished, worshiped. Impulse drove you as one hand skittered from the silken sheets, reaching for her hand, slender digits interlocking atop the meat of your thigh.

Holding you close, Rhaenyra continued to greedily seek your cunt without pause, ceaselessly lapping over your core. It was then that her mouth sluggishly relocated, mauve hues momentarily fixating upon your countenance as her lips gingerly pursed around your pearl.

A gasp ripped through your diaphragm, body suddenly wracked with an overwhelming wave of ecstasy. As she toyed with your clit, suckling upon the sensitive clutch of nerves, you were left reeling, other arm keeping yourself afloat.

Whatever had pushed you over the brink, you were uncertain, feeling your hips jolt forward once more. Rhaenyra continued to shower your nethers in lap after greedy lap of her tongue, intermingling with brief circles over your pearl.

Buckling beneath the weight of your mounting arousal, your body succumbed, as if a barrier had been obliterated within you. A surge of heat flooded your insides, pooling between your thighs as you quivered in the aftermath.

A white-hot rush of ecstasy swarmed you, voice tapering off into incoherent praises and wanton moans, filling her chambers with your delight. As nectar oozed from your weeping slit, she teased you further, tongue slowing to a crawl.

Your chest burned with exasperated sighs as you fought to regain your composure, beginning to settle from the onslaught of your release. Perspiration lingered along the column of your spine, body bitten by the sting of desire.

Rhaenyra withdrew, pressing a string of feather-light kisses along the inside of your thigh, her grasp upon your hand beginning to loosen. Her tongue absentmindedly wet her bottom lip, rising from between your legs in order to capture your mouth with hers.

The kiss made you deliriously warm, dizzy as you clung to her as if you were drowning, able to taste yourself upon her tongue. “You are exemplary.” Her regal lull was akin to music, stroking every part of your mind as she slipped away.

High praise made you preen, happy that she seemed satisfied with you. It was a first — and it felt liberating to finally shed the shackles of your longstanding repression. You watched as she moved to drag a warm cloth over her face, ridding herself of sweat.

Exhaustion hit you then and there, and you stood enough to adjust your skirts, preparing to go and find your crimson robe.

“Stay awhile longer,” Rhaenyra’s cadence was disarmingly tender, inviting you to share her bed. The dusk was still young enough, the hour of the bat not yet upon you. “Unless you have business elsewhere.” She did not dare to interfere with your duties, no matter how much she wanted to.

Smitten, you sank back down onto her bed, growing flustered in the wake of such carnal acts. Admittedly, you half expected her to dismiss you once you were finished, but you were delighted to be proven wrong.

Warmth continued to coalesce between your thighs, a burning reminder that would likely linger for weeks to come. She noticed your sheepish behavior, crossing the threshold once more to join you on her bed, coaxing you into her embrace.

As she laid down, your cheek pressed flush to her collarbone, allowing an arm to drape around her, cradling her close. Rhaenyra welcomed your embrace, her hand finding yours, slender digits idly toying with your own.

“Your Grace, I … I hope that I satisfied you well enough,” Your nervous murmur ensnared her attention, lilac hues flickering over your worried visage. She cupped your cheek, pale brows furrowing together. “This is so very new.”

“I care little for satisfaction, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra corrected, turning just enough to prop her head up with one palm, sheets drawn around the both of you. The older woman looked upon you with a thinly-veiled affection, fondness only growing in the afterglow. “It is you I care for.”

A hitch formed within your throat, lashes fluttering as you held her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “As I care for you, your Gr — Rhaenyra,” Catching yourself, your lips twitched into a warm smile. “You’ve made me feel as if I am worthy of love.”

Untangling your hands, she reached to cup your face, thumb dragging over your cheekbone and beneath your eye. “You are beyond worthy of such sentiments,” With a soft exhale, Rhaenyra moved closer, until space had all but dissipated. “You shall have mine.”

“As you have mine own.” You whispered, garnering the courage to kiss her first, mouths seamlessly melding together, as if made to mold to one another. She savored your lips, caressing the nape of your neck as she brought you into the heat of her chest.

Rhaenyra had loved, and loved again throughout her lifetime — Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong, Daemon, and now, you. She loved Daemon still, and yet she allowed her heart to simply grow, let it bend and expand until she had made enough room for you.

[skys-archive]

I think in honor of pride month and also in general forever we should stop trying fit queer people into the identities we think they should call themselves.

And I know no one is going to see this because no one ever does but I'm going to talk about it anyway because this is important.

Bisexual doesn't mean you don't date trans people, it doesn't mean you like men and women, it doesn't mean you can't have a preference. Someone can identify as polysexual or bisexual or omnisexual and have no preference and you don't get to say that that means they're pansexual. Because no, if they don't identify as pansexual then they're not pansexual.

Transmasc doesn't mean you use he/him pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a man. Transfem doesn't mean you use she/her pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a woman. You can be nonbinary or genderqueer or agender or any gender that isn't binary and not use they/them pronouns. You can use any of those labels and still identify as a man or a woman. You can use different pronouns than is typically used for your birth sex and not consider yourself transgender. People can be gender non conforming and not he trans. People can be trans and not gender non conforming.

A trans man can be fem. A trans woman can be masc. Nonbinary people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people are people, they deserve way more attention than a way to one up transphobes. Intersex people face discrimination and body altering surgeries without their consent and then are only ever talked about to say "some cis women have penises" or "some people have an extra x chromosome" and then we never talk about the struggle they face as part of the queer community.

Asexuality and aromanticism is a spectrum. Some aces like sex, some aces are repulsed, some aces only experience sexual attraction to one person or once in their life, some aces need a deep emotional bond, some aces their attraction changes. Some aros change identities. Some aros are repulsed by romance unless it's a fictional character. Some aros have romantic feelings until they get to know someone. Some aros crave a romantic relationship but never have romantic feelings. You don't get to say someone isn't asexual or aromantic enough.

Asexuality and aromanticism is having a unique relationship with romance or sexual feelings and impulses. Someone who is transgender has a unique experience with gender. You don't get to decide that they don't have a unique experience. But guess what? You don't get to decide if they do either. Someone can have a unique experience and still not identify as asexual aromantic or transgender. You can cross dress and still fully feel like a man. You can use he/him pronouns as a cis women. You can have trauma around sex and not identify as asexual. You can never have a romantic relationship and not identify as aromantic.

You can have "contradicting" labels. I don't know as many of these because I don't personally identify as any but please fell welcome to add in reblogs. There are trans men lesbians and gay women. There are sex loving asexuals. I know there are others I just genuinely am not educated enough.

YOU DONT GET TO CHOOSE SOMEONES LABELS

ANYONE CAN EITHER IDENTIFY OR NOT IDENTIFY AS QUEER

Please feel welcome to add anything in reblogs. I'm sure there's things I've missed. I haven't talked about neopronouns I haven't talked enough about "contradicting" labels. I haven't talked about queer platonic relationships or kink or polyamory or enough about intersex people or pronouns vs gender. There's so much important things but at the end of the day it's just so important to not choose other people's labels.

[mr-ribbit]

something fascinating to me about egg discourse is how often tme people Also joke about or question their friends potential to be trans, and it's literally never talked about like this.

my cis and tme nb friends routinely joke about celebrities or characters that have big "nonbinary energy" or who otherwise exhibit behavior we would associate with ourselves. i have tme friends and acquaintances who have approached me or my wife and straightforwardly said "something seems trans about you, have I asked for your pronouns recently?"

similar friends have even talked about other still-cis friends in our circle this way, or joked about "when are you going to transition like the rest of us?" or "yeah cis people are a minority in this group, just give it time" or "no wonder you have queer friends with how comfortable with being gnc you are" or etc etc examples like that

even the actual examples of people in my life that I can think of as being the most "invasive" or presumptive about gender have been tme people:

it was my cishet friends who outed me and my wife as trans to everyone at their wedding, including their boomer parents and hundreds of strangers, and called it "the most queer wedding party ever"

it was my tme nb friend who kept saying they could "always tell" her transfem cousin was trans before she came out, and then proceeded to randomly give us extremely personal details about her bottom surgery

it was my transmasc friend who refused to call me and my wife anything other than "little enby beans" after we met and introduced us with our full genders+sexuality labels to every single person one by one at a party

it was my transmasc nb friend who kept insisting my wife could "still be nonbinary" when she was first considering identifying as a trans woman instead, and it was THAT idea that actually slowed her down from making changes to her life that she wanted

it was my cis friends who approached me arm and arm and cornered my outside of a bathroom at a party right after I took a piss to suddenly ask me what my pronouns were because they "heard something" at the party

like, transfems deserve robust support against this trash so a lot of our defensive discourse has ofc been about how it IS okay for transfems to talk about eggs and be jokey about it and non-invasively approach others about being trans

but i swear to god none of these weird people have even stopped to make their discourse ABOUT anyone BUT transfems. it's so clearly targeted!!

no one has EVER approached *me* as a tme nb person and suggested i was pressuring gnc people with my egg jokes. never. nothing even remotely similar. i joke about other people being trans all the time and no one has ever treated me the way you all are treating transfems over this issue.

important note: my examples are all things I recall as being invasive and awkward, and I'm sharing them to make a point about how often rude behavior comes from the same tme people pointing fingers over this. but I still don't think any of them are worth the crucifixion people are treating transfem egg discourse with.

even when my friends were weird to me in the above examples, my reaction was either to confront them about it as friends who I trust to be able to communicate with, or to cut those individuals off after they proved not worth a relationship in the long run. at no time did I desire to make a call-out post or spread rumors about them or publicly declare all of their gender as a screeching menace to society.

my point here is that even when I do think about moments where others crossed a line, acting like this is a "issue trans women have" is blatantly transmisogynistic garbage that only exists to serve the woman-hating machine at the heart of our society. fucking cut it out

[lukolathoughts]

Miss Nicola - supporting LGBTQI rights

Dearest gentle reader,

I have been itching to write a blog post now for a few weeks, but not really knowing where to begin. There have been frenzied weeks and days of activity, but then silence and the fandom meanders like a lost boat at sea. We are often rudderless without the reassuring presence of our ship captains - Luke and Nicola. This also tends to get the sub fandoms spouting nonsense claiming to have seen Nicola in Birmingham or some ridiculous crap. I didn't want to bother her by asking for a photo! No photo, no proof my friend.

I'll talk about me for a moment. I had a week from hell last week. There was something so upsetting for me to deal with, I couldn't go into work as I was crying that much. Try to explain this to your manager: that nasty comments on YouTube made you late for work. Luckily, she is an understanding person and I have told her about my YT channel. Saying some things out loud to real life people make me sound barking mad. But it is the price you pay for being public on YouTube. It also makes me an easy target. I am used to online trolls and people who hate me for saying that Jake is gay and believing in Lukola, but when the stab in the back comes from a supposed friend, it really is the ten of swords. My phone blew up that much, I opened my eyes that morning genuinely thinking Lukola had launched. My hope turned to ash, when I saw what was really happening. I share this with you all because, I have had to have a reckoning with myself the last week. My online life and my real life are not the same. My real life is way more important and I actually need my job, so messing it up because I've got people I don't really know online saying mean things about me, that are not true, shouldn't matter. But it still hurts. But I also realise, they are trying to stop me sharing and trying to ruin my credibility and reputation in order to send me off into my discord crying never to return again.

Well think again. No one tells a Sagittarius woman what they can and can't do. I am made of stronger stuff. Love will always conquer hate. No one puts Baby in the corner, and I will not stand for it. I have scaled back most of my online life now. It had helped me cope with the last year and losing my friend, but sometimes you have to go back into reality. I'm never leaving the ship though. You'll have to chuck me overboard and I'll still jump back on like Rose from Titanic. "I couldn't go, Jack! You jump, I jump, right?"

Anyway, enough about me. Let's talk about Nic. I love Nicola by the way and nothing I say here is a criticism of her or her choices. I see what you're doing though, miss Nicola. I said in my last blog that the shit would hit the fan when Jake has to start press for his new upcoming BBC3 drama What it feels like for a girl. I will admit I have not read the book. Regardless of who Jake is playing, it is reportedly an all queer cast, a queer director and at least one queer writer that I know of. Why would the director of an all queer cast hire a straight man in a homosexual role? If this show is as big as It's a Sin, that aired on Channel 4 a few years ago, then there will be press and a lot of it. There will be press from queer magazines also. Jake is currently in an awkward position, because some press believe he is in a romantic relationship with Nicola Coughlan, a woman who is also 14 years his senior. So, what will Nicola and Jake do?

Jake is holding onto his cash cow with both hands and Nicola needs Jake to continue to pose as her boyfriend to stop the media digging. But honey, they know. It was clear all the press at the SAG awards knew exactly what was going on and they were not afraid to say it. The 'happy ending' comment levelled at them directly by a reporter, had Nicola stunned and Luke smiling like all his Christmases' had come at once.

Nicola knows what is going on. She knows there is a deadline and she knows if she doesn't extricate herself from the narrative she is dating a gay man, she is screwed basically. What is she doing? She's getting out her, I love gays!! T-shirt, hats, scarfs, sunglasses, whatever. She is doing it. Look at me, I love queers! I love her for this and I already know she is an advocate for LGBTQI rights. She has a ton of gay friends. The fandom knows this of course, but do the general public?

At the Neutrogena event on 27th March 2025, there was a very tall drag queen doing some MCing. We know Nic loves drag queens and has been to many shows, so this is nothing new to us. I'm not being overly cynical that the drag queen might have been there for a reason, right? Neutrogena is a product that is targeted at women mostly for their skin products. What has that got to do with a drag queen? I just found it odd.

Next up we have Nicola's Pink Pony Club Post that she shared to both her Instagram stories and grid last Thursday 10th April. The song by Chappell Roan is synonymous with the gay community and one that Jake danced to at her concert last year in a pink cowboy hat. "You guys, remember when my old flat was a gay hotspot!" Nicola, posts 4 polaroid's of her looking fabulous in pink and lays them on a pink blanket. What made you feel so nostalgic, Nic? Or are you sending a message? Look at me, I have loved my gay besties for donkey's years. Prominent gay friends such as JVN and Jack Rooke commented all in agreement, that indeed, Nic's flat was the place to be. And, no I do not think Nicola is coming out herself as gay. Get real, she is supporting her friends and peers.

Then there was yesterday's selfie of Nicola wearing her black - 'I just wanted to say if you are trans and reading this, I love you and so do all my mates' T-shirt. There a few other details in that post that other bloggers such as @toriaaniin have covered beautifully, so I won't go into it here. My eyes sprung wide when I saw this post. I know she advocates for the charity Notaphase.org and I commend her for doing this, but two queer posts in a few days seems to be a lot for Nic, when lately she hasn't been posting at all.

There is also the male hairdresser Halley Brisker in her Opalex video on her Instagram, They make a big deal of letting us know he flirts with male makeup artists. Nicola is clearly good friends with Halley and it is an endearing watch. But to me this seems like a lot of overkill in the last few days for the general public to look at her Instagram and instantly know, yes Nicola does love the girls, the gays and Luke Newton. (FYI Halley Brisker is married to a woman and has children, but to the general public this conversation is implying Nic is comfortable with these conversations).

This, in my opinion, is setting the stage for the final act. I can see Nicola doing some sort of article or interview where she clears a certain narrative up. If you notice, Douglas has also been quite forceful again in implying certain things about Jake and Jake himself does not stop others from posting suggestive posts and videos of him. Nicola must remove herself from this mess in order to move forward with her own career and life. Hanging onto old connections are no longer serving her personally and professionally. Her engagement on Instagram is down by a lot, so I'm told and she is losing followers. She has done all she can career-wise for Jake now, he has to make his own way.

If this does not happen and we remain in this weird heteronormative bubble, I fear the press for What it feels like for a girl, will be a shit show. The truth will come out eventually and it will drag both Jake and Nicola down with it.

[lunarsilver]

What are their kinks?

18+, minors do not interact

A tarot reading regarding your (sexual) partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

Pictures are from Perfect Blue.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2

3 ~ 4

PILE 1

The Hanged Man R - Knight of Wands - Five of Swords - Back of the Deck: Ten of Cups R

What popped in my mind when looking at the Hanged Man in reverse is that your person may like light bondage and/or pleasant to the touch fabrics. Some sensual undergarments, maybe. Moreover, the character on the card in this position brings a person having an orgasm to my mind, with their head thrown back and the general body position, which makes me think your person may like to look at their partner when they climax. I also feel like they may like to be in control; they don’t enjoy “hanging down”, doing nothing, being passive. When it comes to Knight of Wands, the meaning is pretty clear. They love experimenting. They most likely have high libido and treat sex like an adventure. Next, when I looked at Five of Wands, it came to my mind they can be into people crying, like when someone cries a little from overstimulation, for example (the card shows an eye, and it looks like a teardrop runs from it). They may also be into SM or makeup sex, as the card is often about disagreement, conflicts, winning at all costs, or defeat. For some, they may be even into CNC, though this obviously is a pretty specific kink. Lastly, there is a bottle of vodka on the Ten of Cups card (in this position of the card it is turned upside down, as if something was about to be poured from it), so they can like going at it while drunk. The card may suggest your person finds non-traditional relationships appealing. For some, the card is about how this person is into these different things I mentioned but doesn’t really act on it. As a last note, I think that for quite a lot of you, this is ONS or FWB. There’s also a chance your person can be kinda self-centered when it comes to sex. That won’t be the case for everyone, obviously, but I’m writing it down. Overall, this person looks like someone who likes having fun with sex and experimenting, and most likely is rather dominant.

PILE 2

The Devil R - The Empress - Knave of Wands - Back of the Deck: The Magician

So many Major Arcana, as well as many female/feminine-presenting characters. It makes me think that, first, they fantasize about this wonderful, life-changing sex, and second, they either are very into femininity or like to lean into it themselves. I also feel like I have a lot of queer people here, especially sapphics. And if they aren’t a woman, your person still either presents feminine (and they do so out of their own choice, as a form of expression) or they wish they could. Cross-dressing may be a kink of some here, I think. There is at least one guy here (bonus points if cis and straight) who would love to be called a princess or a babygirl lol. I don’t know, I get pretty light, positive, maybe even a little playful vibes from this pile. Like, there are some himbos here, or people who hope for something good, and there’s something pure about the way they see the world. But okay, let’s stay on topic! This person of yours for sure wants to release limiting beliefs and rules, they want to experiment with sex and have fun, the Devil in reverse says it all. The Empress is all about feeling powerful in one’s femininity, and it’s either about them wanting to feel like a princess or queen or about having a partner like this. Your person is a Knave of Wands, looking with a smile into the future, free-spirited and having so many ideas they aren’t sure where to start. The Magician at the back says they manifest all this and are ready to try the whole new world that opens up to them. For most of you, this person isn’t really experienced, or maybe they were always vanilla until recently. Your person here isn’t as dirty as some other piles, they’re most likely still in the phase of finding out what exactly they like, but oh, they’ll have fun with it.

PILE 3

The Fool - The Lovers R - Queen of Pentacles R - Back of the Deck: Nine of Wands

The Fool in this deck is so flamboyant that I instantly thought “Someone’s into twinks” lol. The Fool in the card winks, looks as if he were sending a kiss to the viewer, and dances confidently, proud of his body. The Fool is the card of new beginnings, of having the power of freedom to experience the world. The Lovers in reverse look to me like people hugging and cuddling while lying on the ground, on grass. Actually, all the cards show some place outside (aside from one card, which has a one-color background), and especially with the way The Lovers look here for me, I think your person may like the idea of outdoor sex. Moreover, because the card is reversed, your person may fantasize about having many suitors and having the ability to choose - or to not choose at all. The card also suggests imbalance, so your person can be into sexual power dynamics where one person is stronger than the other - so some BDSM dynamics, or some other role play. Moving on, we have the reversed Queen of Pentacles. The card presents a woman with long, glorious hair in bold but sensual attire. Actually, with the way The Fool and Queen of Pentacles look in this deck, I believe your person may find it hot when someone has revealing clothing or some nice undergarments. I think it’s sexy for them when not everything is visible or visible well, they find it tempting and alluring. With the reversed Queen of Pentacles, I think they are into independent people who know their value. Nine of Wands suggest they want to do it long. They also want something to be left after the experience: either just fatigue, or bite marks, or bruises, or red traces (think slapping someone’s ass, either with a hand or a toy, like a paddle). And now that I think about it, for quite many of you this is about a (sexual) relationship they would like. The reversed Lovers in the center describes the power-dynamic, and The Fool and the reversed Queen of Pentacles show what kind of lovers we talk about. There’s this Queen of Pentacles who has seen some shit, and despite that, or maybe especially because of that, they find something very alluring about the Fool being an enthusiastic, confident novice. The character of Queen of Pentacles actually looks older than The Fool. Your person may like age-gaps, or like to call someone/be called “mommy” (other variants of the name, based on the gender of people involved, are also possible, of course, “mommy” simply is the strongest here). Think about which description you fit more (either in life or just in bed) - The Fool or the reversed Queen of Pentacles. Your person is the other one.

PILE 4

The World - Nine of Swords - Four of Cups - Back of the Deck: King of Wands

The World is pretty straightforward here - they fantasize about this perfect sex, which is an almost spiritual experience; one that brings the feeling of completion, of being happy. For some reason I also think about this kind of sex where you extend the experience, having long, calm pleasure (like a person with vulva sitting on the dick of another person and just squeezing and relaxing their muscles, maybe sometimes moving a few times, just to keep it hard - that’s just an example, of course). Tantric sex. Next, with these Nine of Swords, I think your person likes the idea of someone dreaming about them or not being able to sleep because they think about them (maybe because they’re touching while thinking about your person), they find it hot. Your person may really love the idea of someone finding them so attractive, they get anxious or shy about it. The image also shows handcuffs, so maybe your person is into that. This card in the deck I used for the reading looks happier and more peaceful than its most traditional imagery, and when I look at it, I’m thinking about some romantic gestures like giving flowers. Color-wise, this card and The World both are pink and purple, and have this peaceful vibe about them. It kinda looks like the person portrayed in Nine of Swords dreams about this fantastic sex life, but they’re just lying alone in their bed. On the back we have King of Wands, which represents a passionate lover, and a good one at that. Not just good. Exceptional. For some of you, this is who your person aspires to be, but I think that for more of you, your person fantasizes about someone like this. Your person gives me the vibe of someone who dreams big; they’re into these romantic, maybe a little obsessive scenarios. Of course, it is still just a scenario they like to think about, it doesn’t mean they want to actually be with someone obsessive. Overall, I think that for most of you, this person is more on the submissive side, and they like all these classic scenarios from romance/romantasy/smut books or fics. Another thing for most of you which I see, is that your person probably doesn't have a lot of experience, but they definitely think about sex and romance, and hope for a chance to experience them.

[lakeofsilverpike]

The ongoing squabbling about whether Siuan's death falls into a bury your gays trope or is racist ignores the fact that ultimately there were stories the writers decided they were not interested in telling.

The story of an older queer couple who survives, changed and traumatized, but together and devoted to each other. What it would be like to feel changed by stilling or lifetimes of trauma in another universe, but to look at your partner of decades and see that she still accepts you. To feel changed, different, but still so loved. The story of a long life together. A story we almost never see for queer people. The story that is the reality of so many queer people's lives but is almost never depicted on screen.

The story of people who experience profound trauma and what it means to survive and rediscover who you are with a partner who loves you and supports you. Older people who survive trauma. Who have experienced it again and again and are exhausted and hurt, but who in the end still are able to be happy. Traumatized people who are still happy. That is important to see.

An interracial, intercultural couple who navigates making a life together in one of their homelands. The complex relationship of that woman to a home that rejected her for who she is, and what it means to love a culture that also hates something fundamental about you. A story that surely speaks to many queer people's experiences.

The way that Siuan as a character so deeply connected to her culture resonates in a particular way to audiences because the show cast a Black Jewish actor. The way seeing her feel so proud of her identity in the face of obvious prejudice simply does resonate differently because of the casting.

I think the posts that argue for how narratively right Siuan's death felt, continue to miss that the audience who are really sad about that choice are largely people who watched for Siuan's story. Audience members who watched because we wanted to see Siuan survive, who were excited about the potential mentorship arc between two women of color, to see Siuan find a new purpose in helping Egwene find her power after her own story of trauma. To see a story about stilling as disability, and seeing the story of someone who survives and lives a whole fulfilling life after being stilled, who finds a purpose and a new way to do good in the world.

We were excited for Siuan's story. And for Siuan and Moiraine's story together. There are stories to be told about trauma and disability and culture and class. Stories about older queer people in a long-term loving relationship with all the complexity that a marriage of decades holds. There are audiences who liked seeing stories that resonated with us.

And I think it fundamentally misses the point to argue about whether it makes narrative sense to kill Siuan. A good writer can make any death make narrative sense. I wish the writers had spent the time though thinking about how to write Siuan a compelling story of living rather than dying. I wish the writers had felt that these were stories worth telling.

[alphacentaurinebula]

wot relationship status: it's complicated

I have been agonising over Siuan's death pretty much nonstop, but I have come to a sort of detente with it and I want to share my thoughts in response to some of the common fan responses I've seen.

Was Siuan's death simply for Moiraine's character advancement? No, I really don't think so. Her speech was a beautiful, powerful scene. I have seen fans who feel she was dehumanised and denied dignity and that it was a degrading death. I really don't feel thats what we saw on our screens.

Yes, Siuan was subjected to dehumanising treatment; yes, her killers tried to degrade her and remove her dignity. But she was not bowed; she was not broken. She did not beg for her life, or try to appease her captors, or do anything to suggest that they had succeeded in their attempts to remove her dignity. Instead, she fought back. She stood proud, despite their treatment (treatment that reflected much more on them than it did on her). Her strength and bravery made them into the villains even in their own eyes, and her into a hero and a martyr.

The thing I haven't seen talked about is that she almost won. Deposed, stilled, sentenced to death, she still managed to almost talk the Hall down. She managed to instil fear and doubt in Elaida, a woman who never doubted herself a day in her life. We didn't get to see the Sitters present and their stirrings of doubt (I imagine mainly for production reasons so that they can be cast next season) but we absolutely see it on Elaida's face. The only person unaffected is Alviarin, who can see power slipping through her fingers, who can see that any moment the Hall is going to change its mind, which is why she acts when she does.

I liked that Siuan talked about Moiraine - that was part of her being able to finally tell the truth after all these years, to claim Moiraine publicly as she'd never been allowed to do. Anyone who's spent time being forced to hide a queer relationship will recognise the joy and relief she felt in that moment, which I could certainly see on her face. And I don't think the fact that she spoke of Moiraine, the fact that Moiraine gained a desperate determination from her death, means that her death was simply to serve Moiraine's story. I think to only see Moiraine in her death robs Siuan of the dignity and heroism she displayed, and of the triumph of her character.

But that's my in story world response. Do I think they should have done it? Fuck, no. The writers live in the real world; this show is being watched in the real world. I don't think all queer stories should have to be happy - they shouldn't be limited by previous failures in representation. I don't really feel this is a bury your gays moment, not with so much other queer rep on the show. But we all need happy queer stories. Especially right now, in this moment of dire attack on queer and trans rights. Goodness knows I watched the episode at a terrible time in the UK - literally the day before, a horrific court ruling attacking trans rights was announced, the latest in a series of attacks on trans lives in this country. I needed my happy queer WoT world, and my happy queer WoT fandom.

And whilst there was nothing racial about her death within the world of the show, once again we are living in THIS world, and in this world, it feels problematic at best. (though I stand by my point above that Siuan's role was NOT just to further her white girlfriend's story)

I've seen multiple responses, including from the showrunner, saying that Siuan's plot in the books after the coup was a step down for the character. And whilst sure, I can agree that many elements of her plot are shit - they could simply have changed them. NO ONE needed Gareth Byrne, fuck that entire situation, but the writers could simply have changed that. She could have been in Salidar briefly and then gone off to rescue a doorwayed Moiraine. The writers are the ones making the decisions. They could have made different decisions.

I do think that her death will make Egwene's time in the Tower even more meaningful and triumphant; I do think it will make the Salidar storyline feel more poignant; I do think it will haunt Elaida for the rest of her reign; I do think Siuan as a martyr will add to the narrative tapestry of the rest of the show; I do think they're going to kill Moiraine permanently not doorway her and that this makes more sense with Siuan already dead. I just don't feel any of that is enough reason to lose her from the show.

I also understand the production considerations. I am professionally familiar with tv production - I know how crucial cast availability is, especially with a production this size and with the budgets involved. If it was me, I would simply have had Elaida send her off somewhere to be imprisoned. They could have kept her off screen until she was available/could become relevant to the plot.

Does this mean I don't want to see the "end game" that the writers have planned for Siuan and Moiraine? I ABSOLUTELY want to see it. I want them to make this better. I want my fishwives to have as close to a happy ending as they can get. Life is a dream from which we all must wake, and I want them to have time together in that waking, and for us to see them get it right, to see them happy as they have absolutely earned. Whether the show will manage to get that ending right? I have no idea. But I really want them to. I really want to see it.

So basically - I'm still angry, sad, and very very hurt. But I also don't want this to ruin my love of this show. Sometimes I feel we are the harshest to those who actually try. The show is flawed, but it does have a large and diverse cast, people of colour in many key roles, queer people of all varieties, a mix of talent in front of and behind the camera. It might fail sometimes but at least it tries.

I want the show to continue. I want to see my other favourite characters live their stories. I want to see Egwene come into her own, I want to see Nynaeve be the badass she is, I want to watch Elayne figure out how to do things no one had done in 3000 years, I want to see where they are going with Show Min, I want more of perrin, I want Mat to sleep with a dude, pretty please.

I think I'm most angry that this has stripped a lot of the joy of fandom from me, and caused so much pain to so many people. I wanted to be shouting about WoT from the rooftops at the moment - I wanted to be campaigning for renewal. But whilst it has robbed me of that fervour, I still want to see the show survive and thrive. I do want it to be renewed. And I do want my Siuriane end game.

[shaniacsboogara]

jojo siwa claiming she's revitalizing gay pop and releasing 'karma' on the same night as conan gray's 'found heaven' and chappell roan's 'good luck babe' is so poetically ironic. it's like the universe WANTS to draw a comparison between jojo and queer pop artists.

the thing that makes queer pop compelling as a genre is the unique storytelling and experiences of queer artists told through their music. that doesn't necessarily mean every song by a queer artist has to be about their queerness. they don't have to scream "hey i'm gay!" in every single song they write. but claiming to be "reinventing gay pop" should mean you're telling interesting stories about your queer experience, right???

'found heaven' by conan gray is about growing up as a queer kid with religious guilt and disapproving parents. he equates being in love in an authentic way to "finding heaven", and the piece as a whole resonates with a TON of queer people in different stages of their lives. some people can look back at their childhoods and how much they've grown since then, some can relate because they're currently going through what conan's written about, and some people can sympathize with the way some queer people are treated, even if they aren't necessarily queer themselves.

'good luck babe' is a song about queerness and compulsory heterosexuality. chappell sings about a woman she was in a relationship with who decided to settle down in a conventional marriage despite being queer. the song reflects the denial a lot of queer people go through (specifically regarding the lesbian experience) and the unfortunate way a lot of them end up repressing who they are to conform to societal standards. it's fun, it's campy, but its message is still poignant.

as for karma… there's nothing inherently queer about that song. the music video for the original version, ‘karma’s a bitch’ by brit smith, featured a heterosexual storyline. jojo buying the rights to a song she didn't write isn't inherently a bad thing, a lot of mainstream artists do that all the time. however, if you're claiming to be a pioneer of the “gay pop” genre and your music doesn't reflect any queer themes or experiences, is it really “gay pop”? again, queer artists don't have to write exclusively about their queerness, but if you try to present yourself as a voice for the queer community without telling any of their stories, you're not going to be lauded as some revolutionary figure. if any of the songs on jojo’s album are actually about her experience as a lesbian or contain any queer themes, then i think she'd qualify as a “gay pop” artist. but so far, she's given us a faux edgy, generic pop song and tried to market it as some insane never-been-done-before feat. and honestly, if her entire album is like this and she continues to market herself this way, it's a slap in the face to all the genuine artists and storytellers in the queer community.

but let's stop talking about jojo siwa and start talking about the incredible queer artists who are truly breathing life into the "gay pop" genre: chappell roan, renee rapp, ben platt, conan gray, girl in red, kevin atwater, baby queen, mitski, clairo, dodie, and SO MANY MORE (feel free to add on some of your favourites because there are so many wonderful artists out there <3)

also: if you have a different perspective on this situation i would absolutely love to hear what you think and if you agree / disagree with this! i love discussing topics like this so feel free to reblog with your own take

[gritandoengay]

I only come on this app like once every two or three months to reblog fan art of whatever wlw ship I'm currently hyper fixating on and then dip. I'm Old TM by fandom standards and have spent way too much time in the trenches of fandom discourse to have the energy for that again, I've done my time. I'm not here to write a lengthy essay defending Caitlyn and/or CaitVi - no, I'm here simply to share an observation:

Many of you Caitlyn and CaitVi haters are super predictable.

Y'all have been regurgitating the same talking points since fucking 2014. Might not be the same people (god I hope it's not), but it's the same. thing. every. time. Doesn't matter the genre of the show or what happens between the characters, y'all will trot out the same reheated arguments.

"Caitlyn is a fascist dictator and you are a N*zi if you support her"

Is just reheated "Lexa is a fascist dictator" and "Catra is a fascist dictator" and "Edelgard is a fascist dictator." I would argue that Caitlyn is actually the least morally grey of that group, but anyway, it's "curious" how all these properties have equally (or even more) morally grey male characters that get rehabed by the fandom while the wlw are irredeemable fascists that only N*zis would like.

"CaitVi is a toxic relationship, Caitlyn is a domestic abuser that physically beats up Vi all the time and/or manipulates her"

None of these points are supported at all by the text imo, but anyway, it's the same language used to describe Clexa and Catradora and god knows how many other wlw ships in shows with popular non-wlw ships that have very similar dynamics. Even compared to other popular Arcane ships, this accusation is super hypocritical given how TimeBomb beat the shit out of each other in season 1 and Jayce literally blasts a hole in Viktor's chest for plot reasons. I would also like to point out that the super harmful stereotype of lesbians being domestic abusers was born out of wildly misinterpreted statistics of domestic abuse in real life.

"JayVik and/or Timebomb is actually more queer than CaitVi"

Is just badly reheated pasta made from the same ingredients as "Makorra is actually more queer than Korrasami" and "Bellarke is actually more queer than Clexa" and "Hordtrapta is actually more queer than Catradora" and "Dimileth is actually more queer than Edeleth" and "Huntlow is actually more queer than Lumity" , the arguments are always just as nonsensical because there's just flat out no such thing as a same sex ship being "less queer" than any other ship.

CaitVi literally fuck, on screen, in a sex scene that has literally won a god damn award and went on to become the most captured moment in all of godman Netflix. Regardless of your opinion on the ship, that visibility is important. The fact that a whole theater full of people started screaming as loudly as a jet engine with executives from Riot to hear it all is important.

The final scene of the show is literally them snuggling in front of the fire place and promising to always be together. That's gay as fuck. So, stop embarrassing yourself with this regurgitated "X canon wlw ship isn't as queer as -" nonsense, which btw, is just an extension of real life same sex relationships between women not being taken seriously because society overall still centers men in romance and can't fathom a romantic relationship not involving a man. Y'all know you can't even debate me on this in fandom spaces because all I have to do is point at the number of mlm and f/m fics on ao3 vs the crumbs that big fandoms give wlw ships.

Now on to the excuses and disclaimers that are trotted out.

"I can't be misogynistic I'm a woman-" Yes, yes you can. If you think that only conservative women can suffer from internalized misogyny, boy do I have years of working in leftist organizing spaces to dispel that notion. If you think that fandom spaces are somehow immune to misogyny- lol. Lmao. See the above point about mlm and f/m fics on ao3.

"I can't be lesbophobic/biphobic I'm literally queer -" Yes, yes you can. Both intersect with misogyny, and see the above point about misogyny. You can be a biphobic lesbian, you can be a lesbophobic bisexual, you can even be a biphobic bisexual and a lesbophobic lesbian. Wild, I know, thank the cis- heteropatriarchy.

"I can't be racist because I'm a POC -" Yes, yes you absolutely fucking can. I also have other news for you - despite how much some of you fuckers want to pretend Caitlyn isn't East Asian because of racist assumptions of what East Asians should look like and/or be depicted like in media, she is, and she's important rep, especially in a time when anti-East Asian (and Asian in general) bigotry has been rising in Western countries. No amount of "ACAB BLM Free Palestine" tags in your profile will make you immune from being racist. This leads me to a related point -

Y'all love to scream about wanting more rep with sapphic woc, but then when that rep comes, you tear it down or center other ships. Korrasami is toxic, CaitVi is toxic, Tanthamore is boring, Lumity is fine but I prefer Huntlow, etc.

Furthermore, the only, and I mean only time that black sapphic characters will be mentioned will be to prop them up as good rep vs whatever wlw you hate, but then when I go to those black sapphic character's/ship's Tumblr and ao3 tags, nothing! It's a ghost town! Those characters get paid dust by both wlw fandoms and the people using them as props to hate on other wlw characters! This is definitely a call out to wlw fandoms too btw, I have yet to see a ship with a black sapphic character explode in popularity, and that's on us too.

So, what is the purpose of this rant? Well, I know that most people that read it will dig in and further entrench themselves in their hatred of Caitlyn and CaitVi, but I'm hoping that at least one person genuinely re-examines that hatred and where it might be coming from. You don't have to like Caitlyn or CaitVi, you can criticize the ship and the characters. But if your criticisms and hatred are almost beat for beat the same accusations that have been thrown at wlw ships in even wildly different shows and contexts, and/or you excuse male characters and non-wlw ships with similar dynamics, then it's time to do some soul searching.

Anyway, this has already been long enough. I'm doing policy advocacy with local LGBTQ organizations and will go back to working on that. Whatever your opinions of Caitlyn and CaitVi are, there are fascists out there in the real world to fight.

[rinsfanfics01]

The funny thing about the queerbating argument for this fandom is that even if Buck or Eddie were women, they wouldn't be good together. Like at all.

If Buck were born Evelyn Buckley, and met Eddie the same way, when would a good time be? In season 2? No, Eddie was with Shannon. So either Buck would be portrayed as a home wrecker or Eddie would actively be trying to cheat on his wife. Season 3 wouldn't be any better but the whole grocery store scene would make Eddie extremely abusive. Anything after that point you'd have to address that scene and the fact that Eddie basically had his female best friend become Chris's mom. Which would basically downgrade Buck's place in the story. This show has a hard time balancing their female characters place between work and motherhood to begin with. Add to the fact that Buck's storylines tend to be romantic base and their relationship would crumble within a season or two.

If they made Eddie a single mom we wouldn't have the abuse issue. As this show ignores any abuse that happens to their male characters. However, with Buck coming off of Abby from season one he wouldn't want to persue that relationship in season 2, plus again Eddie was married. Then in season 3 he feels bad because he lost Eddie's kid then up and disappeared. Come season 4 fem!Eddie over there clearly isn't interested in making him Chris's dad. So Buck wouldn't try to start anything and Fem!Eddie would probably be given a whole lot of single mom storylines. Trying to push a relationship between them would feel wrong.

So no, if either of them were a women it wouldn't work. Funnily enough though, turn Buck or Tommy into a woman and their story still works.

Fem!Buck overly flustered by Eddie's new friend? Tries to get his attention by showing off? Also maiming your friend to get a guys attention is totally something a girl would do.

Fem!Tommy trying to fit in a macho line of work turning into more of an asshole to blend in? It's already canon. Fem!Tommy getting to fly a helicopter and save everyone? We saw it with Lucy, why not? Female Tommy leaving Buck at the restaurant because he's kinda being a jerk but taking him back cause he's sweet and apologizes? Amazing. Seeing how much Buck has grown in the past and trying again with an older woman would also be pretty cool.

Point is: The BuckTommy storyline isn't the show queerbating the audience. It would work with or without the queer elements. Buddie just doesn't work period.

[1mlostnow]

HEY! Hey. hey. hey..

If you’re an mlm shipper. Listen to this…

It is blatantly homophobic. To always make. One of them. The twink. And one. The bear. It is homophobic. To always make. One of them. Feminine and sub. And one masc and top. Quit doing that. It’s. Just. Homophobic. To always want one to be the ‘woman’, and another to be the ‘man’.

Yk how most gays hate being asked “who wears the pants in the relationship?” Yeah? Think about it. That’s exactly what you’re doing. This goes out to many different communities. And also applies to wlw/gnc relationships.

Will Graham is not as feminine as fics and Art like to make him seem. Neither is Castiel. Or James Wilson.

There doesn’t always have to be a ‘man’ and a ‘woman’ in queer relationships. That’s the whole fucking point. RB if you agree because I am so mad rn.

An edit to the original post : please check out all additions and reblogs. I have made multiple edits and adjustments through rbs after receiving feedback on this post :))

Another insert : key word is always. We see it less recently, but it’s still prevalent and still a harmful stereotype to push queer relationships into.

Third and hopefully final addition : please don’t explain your kinks to me. I’m a minor.